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 No.12343[Last 50 Posts]

There is far too little non-con snuff on this board, so I decided to post some stuff and hopefully inspire and/or attract some non-con fans here. I'd also like to say that violence against women and sexual assault are very big problems in society, and these fantasies are not meant to condone or perpetrate those issues in any way.

Julie is a character that embodies just about everything I enjoy in my fantasy victims, and although her personality may vary slightly from story to story, she remains fairly consistent. I've penned quite a few of her demises, and hopefully some of these tales you'll also find enjoyable. Some are reposts I've shared here previously, and some are new.


Julie and the Lizards

Somewhere in the New Mexico desert...

"We're fucked."

"Yeah, I imagine we are."

"You don't think maybe you miscounted?"

"I can count to three."

"Maybe it was hiding?"


"God damn it, do you know how fucking fucked we fucking are?"

Mario nodded, but Henry didn't think he knew. Mario wasn't there when they tested the prowess of the lizards by sending a young woman into the feeding area, with eighteen of the fuckers. If they didn't find this lizard and contain it, it would only be a matter of time before both them and their families met a similar fate.

The thing had fed just yesterday, so it would lay its eggs within twenty-four to forty-eight hours. That was how long they had to contain the situation. If it laid eggs inside their facility, the offspring would devour them as slowly and methodically as their kin had the young woman. If it escaped their facility and laid eggs in the wild, it would only be a short while until news of the horrific deaths they inflicted spread, and then Mario and Henry would be liabilities. GCM didn't tolerate liabilities.

And it would lay eggs, of that there could be no doubt. The things were asexual, only needing to feed to reproduce, and they were designed to multiply rapidly.

The alarm sounded and the old man rose like clockwork. It was 6:00 AM, and soon his incredibly stunning fifteen-year-old neighbor would begin her morning run. He already had morning wood, something he had rarely experienced in the twilight of his life, at least until his recent discovery of his neighbor's exercise routine. Now, just the anticipation was enough to get him hard. He went to his window and waited, binoculars at the ready.

It was around 6:12 that the goddess appeared, her soft brown hair pulled back in a pony tail that bounced when she moved, her firm round buttocks scarcely contained by her dark blue volleyball shorts. Her budding and perky breasts were bare, as usual, and her brilliant young face was alight with the sanguinity and vivaciousness of youth. Her belly was smooth and flat, but still soft, which was probably one of her reasons for this early morning routine, although Bill liked the softness to it. Her most radiant feature of all, her playful and mischievous blue eyes, looked across the street and seemed to bore a hole right through him. For a moment he forgot to breathe, but then she looked away and Bill felt his heartbeat even out.

The girl's pale skin appeared to glow with a life of its own in the early morning light, and she began to stretch, contorting her spectacular body in ways that drove Bill mad with lust. He watched until she laid tracks out into the desert and eventually disappeared amidst the dunes and the cacti and the mesquite. Then he returned to bed and began to masturbate.

It was a beautiful June morning, the sun rising early and turning the eastern sky into a masterpiece. The air was temperate and moist with dew, and Julie loved the way it felt against her skin. It was one of the reasons she ran topless, although had she known about her pervy old neighbor she might have reconsidered her lack of attire.

As it was, she had no idea the seventy-three-year-old man who lived across the road was spying on her, nor did she know what awaited her in the desert, so she woke, put on her shorts and high tops, and looked disapprovingly at her soft, flabby belly. "Stupid baby fat," she muttered. She was no longer chubby, but when she outgrew that affliction another had taken its place - she was beautiful.

Beauty was a thing most girls coveted, but Julie often found it less than desirable. All anybody seemed to care about was her appearance. It was as if she no longer held any actual value, aside from being eye candy. Granted nobody bullied her anymore, but everyone's eyes were constantly on her, sizing her up, judging her, undressing her. Not to mention all the awkward advances and unwanted groping she had to endure.

Yet she rose at dawn to run, to eliminate that pesky belly fat that bulged over her waist line when she buttoned up her Levi's, and despite the frown she wore as she criticized her reflection in the mirror, Julie was happy to be alive. In spite of all her problems, life was good and full of promise.

She walked outside and inhaled deeply of the fresh desert air, expanding her modest but shapely bosom, then put her hands on the small of her back and stretched, unwittingly putting on a show for her horny neighbor. Once she felt fully limbered up, she took off.

The first few steps were always the toughest, but she quickly fell into a rhythm and running felt less like work and instead became strangely therapeutic. The air on her face and against her bare, gently bouncing breasts was refreshing, and her mind was free of any of the burdens of the social hierarchy or academic pressures that school imposed. She was free to day dream about the more pleasant aspects of life, such as the prospect of playing varsity basketball in her upcoming sophomore year. It was very plausible. She had been working hard on her handles, running drills up and down her driveway, and going to the park to practice free throws and join in pick up games every chance she got.

And so she ran, her mind ambling from one pleasantry to the next, until twenty minutes into her run and a little over two miles into the desert, Julie encountered her first genetically engineered lizard. The thing was little more than five inches long, with a short stubby tail and an oversized head, and it scurried up her leg with surprising quickness. She had barely enough time to register its presence before it sunk its long, hook-like claws into her soft tummy and took a bite out of her. A quiet little shriek escaped her lips and she grabbed the thing and ripped it off her. The long hooking claws ripped her skin, and a tiny strip of raw meat lay bare to the left of her navel where it bit her, blood trickling down.

"Jesus fucking Christ," she whispered as she flung the horrid creature back into the desert. She was wondering what kind of shots she was going to need now to guard against disease when another of the fuckers scurried up her leg, and another. She managed to pluck one up before it took hold in her, and she squeezed it between her fingers, meaning to kill the thing. It was like squeezing a scaly coin purse, and as far as Julie could tell the little monster was unhurt. She dropped it when its cohort took another bite out of her belly, drawing a pained squawk from her. Looking down she was alarmed to see there were now three of them clinging to her midriff, chomping away, and two more were climbing her legs to join them. The ground seemed to have come alive, as at least a dozen more swarmed to her.

She noted that they ran on their hind legs, almost like miniature dinosaurs, but God they were so fast. She sprinted at top speed while plucking another of the bastards off her belly and tossing it mindlessly aside, but the fucking things were faster than she was. There were now four of them on her midsection, ripping her to shreds, and in no time three more were scurrying up her thighs to join the fray. She kicked at one of them and saw it tumble into a cactus before picking itself up to rejoin the chase as if nothing had happened. She stomped on another and it didn't even seem to notice. Meanwhile there were several tiny chunks of meat being torn from her tummy, and a steady flow of blood was beginning to spring from the wounds.

It began to sink in that she would not be able to outrun them, and fighting them off was almost equally unlikely, so she would need to get help. The problem with that was she was more than two miles from home and any semblance of civilization. "I'm going to die," she muttered to herself, but the thought was too horrific to entertain, so she stopped running and turned around. The lizards were all congregating on her abdomen, as if they understood Julie wanted to be thinner and they were here to accommodate that wish. She counted at least twelve of them on her belly, and she began peeling them off as quickly as she could. It seemed as soon as she removed one another took its place, but she plucked them off just the same, and she began to run again, this time back in the direction from whence she came.

It was much more difficult to run with her stomach being savaged by over a dozen miniature monsters, but Julie was nothing if not tenacious. Gritting her teeth, she managed to continue at a decent clip for nearly five minutes, but when she pulled away a lizard and a rope of slippery pink guts came with it, she stumbled. She caught her balance at the last second, avoiding a complete spill, and when she straightened out she now had a loop of intestines dangling between her knees, with a lizard swinging from the end like Tarzan.

Unwilling to forfeit any part of her innards, figuring they would be necessary to keep her alive, Julie entered a bizarre sort of tug-o-war. With one hand gripping her slippery guts, she grabbed Tarzan with her other hand and began to pull. When she finally succeeded in separating the lizard from her digestive tract, the exposed bowels had attracted two newcomers. As they pulled her viscera in two new directions, several more mouths latched on, and Julie could see it was a lost cause.

Instead of fighting for her dwindling entrails, she went back to just picking as many of the beasts off her stomach as she could. Her thighs were painted red with gore, and her shoes were spattered with blood. The sheer agony of having her belly slowly devoured by so many tiny mouths was more than she could bear, but she couldn't stop. If she stopped she was finished. Her gait had slowed to little more than a stagger, but she pressed forward.

With each pained step, a lizard was culled from her abdomen and another took its place, and her hopelessness grew. She wondered how much farther it was to her home and the main road, and if she could make it that far. She wondered if these things would have their fill of her and leave her before they had done irreparable damage. As the next few harrowing minutes passed, she increasingly thought the answer to these questions was 'no'. Each yard felt like a mile, and she wasn't sure how much distance she had covered, or how much time had passed, before another of the things breached her abdominal wall, but she was sure it was not nearly as long or as far as it seemed.

The creature had burrowed particularly deep in her, only its bottom half visible, protruding obscenely from her tummy, so Julie grabbed it by its tail and pulled. It was a horribly unpleasant feeling as her small intestines shifted and uncoiled as another glistening rope was pulled free into the sunlight, trailing from the jaws of this vile creature coated with her blood. This time she decided not to bother fighting for her spilled guts and just released the lizard, letting it dangle amidst its still famished brethren. She watched with a rather peculiar detachment as the loop of viscera was slowly ingested, and continued to pick the lizards who were more interested in her flesh off, one by one, and continued to take her lumbering steps forward.

A quick glance at the horizon revealed that her home and the highway were still nowhere in sight, and she was likely more than a mile from any hope of a reprieve. "Please stop," she whimpered to the lizards gorging themselves on her midriff, as if these beasts could care or understand her wish to live. She noted that one of the things had opted for the tougher, yet previously untouched meat of her right thigh, and another had made its way to the fatty meat of her left buttock, but the rest seemed content with continuing to battle for her tender belly. "Oh God, I don't want to die," she murmured forlornly.

Her will to live drove her forward, even though she understood now that nothing short of a miracle would save her. Her hands continued to pluck away the lizards, whose resolve had not slowed. Not one of them had given up on the feast. Nearly ten minutes and two hundred yards later Julie's entrails were spilled in earnest, a veritable smorgasbord of tasty pink sausage links bursting free, slopping against Julie's blood-soaked thighs. She sighed quietly and sunk to her knees, as the strength went out of her.

"No," she whispered, realizing that this was it. She was lost. The damnable lizards went to work gobbling up their prize with unrelenting eagerness, and Julie's soft plump buttocks came to rest in the dirt. Crushing grief and despair came with the knowledge that she would never stand again, and there was nothing left for her to do but sit and watch these things eat.

It occurred to her that someone could drive down this deserted and abandoned dirt road, at this exact moment, and that person might somehow be able to fight these things off and rush Julie to a hospital, and that thought helped her keep her sanity as she saw her innards ripped apart, but when a pair of these horrid creatures pulled something plump and shiny from deep within her tummy, even that crazy idea no longer held water. Her stomach, a most decidedly vital organ, was torn to pieces and consumed by half a dozen lizards, right before her eyes. The process took more than a couple minutes to unfold, but Julie watched it all in unmitigated horror.

Next came her liver and what might have been one of her kidneys, cleaved from their rightful places inside her abdominal cavity and drug through the mess of savaged intestines still strewn about her lap. Julie dug her fingers into the ground, gripped the dirt tightly, gnashed her teeth together, and bore it as best she could. After a few more minutes of this hell, she lost the strength to remain upright and her shoulders slowly lowered to the ground. Her legs remained bent at the knees, her heels beneath her butt cheeks, stretching what remained of her belly taught, and providing her killers a clear, unobstructed path to their meal.

Julie stared up at the morning sky, amazed at the beauty and the blueness of it. It was a tranquil morning, a truly lovely morning, and a wonderful time to be alive, which made it all the more horrible to be dying. As she lay on her back, contemplating the vastness of eternity and the finality of death, she heard the hum of an approaching car engine, and somehow found the strength to lift her head enough to see her neighbor's truck rumbling towards her down the deserted road. It was the ultimate insult. A miraculous rescue when it was too late for a rescue.

The stupid old man clamored out of his truck and gawked at her. "What are these things?" he asked, although it was unclear if he was asking her or himself. Julie was unable to answer, either way. She simply tilted her head to look at him, and felt a great deal of hate and envy that this stupid man had lived to the age that he had, while she was lying there dying at the age of fifteen. There was no justice in the world.

The man apparently had no interest in rescuing her anyway, as he only stood and watched as she slowly died. She felt the awful pain begin to subside, and her sight began to fail. No! No, not yet! I'm not ready! She understood she would never be ready, but it didn't matter. She died there, alone in the desert, her short fifteen years of life amounting to nothing more in the end than sustenance for a bunch of freakish lizards.


The Babysitter

The phone rang at 2:14 PM on a Thursday afternoon. It was July 23rd, the final day of Julie's short life. She was just sixteen years, five months, and thirteen days old, and she was lying on her bed perusing a Seventeen magazine, an age she'd sadly never reach. Of course she had no idea she was going to die that day, and Seventeen seemed as inevitable as the changing of the seasons.

Her spirits were high, as they usually were, and when Mr. Barnes asked if she could baby-sit Henry she happily agreed. Henry was a sweet kid, and Mr. Barnes paid a flat rate of one hundred smackeroonies whenever she watched him, so it was easy money and she could use the cash to get her mom a necklace for her birthday, which was just around the corner.

After a quick shower, Julie slipped on a cropped white tee and some ripped denim shorts, then walked down the street to Mr. Barnes's house. He was sitting in the yard on a lawn chair, with a scantily clad blonde doting over him.

"Julie, you're a life saver," he called out as she approached.

"Got yourself a hot date?" Julie asked, raising an eyebrow at his female companion.

"Maybe. Julie, this is Jenny. Jenny, this is Julie."

"Hey, sugar! You think I'm hot?" Jenny asked, with an insipid little giggle. She leaned over to show off her cleavage, and Julie tried not to cringe.

I think you're an airhead, Julie thought, but aloud she said, "You're fucking sexy." It wasn't fair to judge the woman. After all, it was society that drilled it into their heads that their self-worth was dependent upon their looks instead of their brains, so this poor creature was simply a product of her environment. Julie tried to bear that in mind when she forced a smile and shook the woman's hand, awkwardly avoiding the hug Jenny seemed intent on sharing. "So, what time are you two love birds heading out?" she asked, addressing Mr. Barnes.

"We're just about to leave. I left some ground beef thawing in the sink, and Henry's inside watching cartoons. If you need anything you got my cell phone number, and we should be back around ten or eleven."

"Sounds legit." To the ditzy blonde Julie added, "Make sure this guy pays his own way; he's loaded." Then she went inside. The house was one step down from a mansion, with an expansive foray that led to an oversized family room. Plush leather sofas flanked a seventy inch flat screen, with speakers in every wall, and a marble coffee table was the center piece.

Henry was lying on the couch watching Sponge Bob, and when he saw her he cried out, "Julie!" and rushed over to hug her leg.

"Hey kiddo," Julie grinned and rubbed his head.

"You're gonna stay with me?"

"Yup. We're gonna have some fun. You watching Spongebob?"

"Uh-huh. I got some new Supersoakers. You wanna see?"


Henry ran down the hallway to his room, and when he returned he held a pair of water guns that were each nearly as big as he was. Julie laughed and put her hands in the air. "Don't shoot." Henry made machine gun noises with his mouth and pretended he was pumping Julie full of lead, and Julie groaned and clutched herself, falling backwards onto the couch. "Oooohhh, you got me."

Henry cackled with joy, ran over and jumped on Julie, put both gun barrels against her head and made more gunfire noises. "I'm already dead, you silly goose, now you're just wasting your ammo."

"If you're dead you can't talk."

"Good point," and with that Julie lay back and rolled her eyes up in her head and remained perfectly still.

She held that pose even when Henry started poking her in the ribs and playfully slapping her cheeks, but when he licked his finger and stuck it in her ear and cried, "Wet Willie!" she pushed him away and giggled.

"Alright, alright, I'm not dead. You wanna have a watergun fight later?"

Henry nodded.

"You wanna finish watching SpongeBob first?"

Henry nodded again, and so they spent the next hour watching back to back episodes of the yellow cartoon character with the buckteeth. Julie was able to laugh nearly as often as Henry, and she thought there were certainly worse ways to spend her afternoon.

When Rabbids Invasion came on they switched the TV off and took the Supersoakers to the bathtub to fill them up, before heading into the back yard for a duel. Julie set up camp behind the swing set and Henry hid behind the jungle gym, and they let each other have it. Julie got the better of the exchange, but she still ended up with her hair drenched and her tee shirt soaked through. She momentarily regretted her decision to go without a bra, as her nipples were clearly visible, but Henry was just a five-year-old kid, so she wasn't overly conscious about it.

They goofed around on the monkey bars and Henry chased Julie up the climbing frames and down the slide until they had mostly dried off, and once they were back inside Henry went to his room to play with his toys and Julie channel surfed and browsed Facebook and Twitter and a few blogs on her phone. At around five o'clock PM she went into the kitchen and started cooking the ground beef with some taco seasoning and frying up some corn tortillas, and that was when she heard the gun shot.

The sound was deafening, and the burning pressure in her abdomen came as a kind of afterthought. She was standing in front of the stove and saw the splash of blood hit the oven and the handle of the frying pan in front of her. A short sqauwk escaped her lips, and she looked at the exit wound in her bare belly.

The slug had entered her body towards the rear of her right side, travelled diagnally through her abdominal cavity, wreaking havoc on her digestive tract, and exited to the left of her navel. She slapped her left hand against her tummy and turned away from the stove, and there was Henry standing in the hallway, pointing a revolver at her. "Henry, sweetie" she said, as calmly as possible, "that's not a toy. You really hurt me." She reached her right hand out to him and said, "Give me the gun."

"Eat death, Julie," Henry said as he squeezed the trigger again. Hot lead hit her in the stomach like a load of bricks, punching through the right side of her midsection. Julie looked at the fresh hole in her gut and pressed her right hand against the wound. Blood welled between her fingers and spilled down the front of her jean shorts, and Henry squealed with laughter.

"Henry," Julie gasped, but she was answered with yet another gun shot. This time the slug caught her in the right shoulder and spun her around so her back was to the kid. He thinks this is a game. He's not going to stop shooting me. Julie took a few stiff steps away from the five-year-old terror, then caught a fourth round in her left buttock. It bulled through her hip and left a gaping hole in the hollow spot where her thigh met her pelvis, and Julie fell to her knees.

She put her right hand on the island next to her for balance, and tried to pick herself back up. She was stopped by yet another bullet, which bit into the center of her back and laid waste to her liver and her stomach, then exited her upper abdomen. Blood spattered across the tiles in front of her, and the girl fell face first on the kitchen floor. She tasted the metallic, coppery flavor of blood and bile in the back of her throat, and spat crimson. "Oh fuck," she groaned.

Unable and unwilling to give up, Julie drug herself across the floor, glancing over her shoulder to see Henry stalking her, pistol in hand. She flipped onto her back and propped herself up against the fridge, then pleaded with the kid. "Henry, don't. Please." Henry popped her in the right breast, knocking the wind out of her.

"Hummpphh," Julie grunted, and more blood spilled over her soft, lush lips. "Oh God, Henry, I think you really killed me."

Henry laughed and pulled the trigger again, but this time the hammer fell on an empty shell. "If I killed you, how can you talk?"

Julie smiled wanly, showing blood-stained teeth. "Touche. But I'm hurt bad, Henry. For real this time. This isn't make believe."

"You have a lot of blood," he told her.

"Yeah, I do, but I'm losing a lot of blood," she responded. "I don't have much time. Henry... you're going to be in a lot of trouble for this. I need you to promise me something."

"Are you gonna tell my daddy on me?"

"No sweetie. I'm... I don't think I'm gonna get another chance to talk to your daddy. But listen. You hafta promise... you won't ever play with guns anymore."

"But I just got my Supersoakers."

Julie managed to giggle. "No, not those guns, silly. Those guns are fine." She winced as a terrible stabbing pain went through her tummy. "This gun." She pointed at the revolver. "Don't play with guns like this. It's not nice."


"Promise me."

"I promise."

"Good boy. Now... I need you to turn off the stove. If we... if we leave it on we cuh... could burn the house down."

"Aren't you going to make me tacos?"

"Oh baby, I can't make you tacos anymore."

"Because I shot you?"

"Yeah. Because you shot me."

"Does it hurt?" Henry reached out and lightly poked one of the holes in her bare belly, and Julie grimaced.

"Ah, don't touch it. Yeah... it hurts."

"I'm sorry," Henry told her, sounding genuinely remorseful.

[I]A lot of good an apology does me now.[/I] "That's okay, sweetie. Now turn the stove off." Henry did as she asked, and when he returned to her she said, "Good job, kiddo. Now... I left my ph... my phone on the night stand. By the back door. Can you do me a favor... and bring it to me?"

Seeming to finally grasp the gravity of the situation, Henry did as she asked without question this time. [I]Thank God for small favors.[/I] "Thanks," she told him when he handed over the cell phone. She put it on speaker and dialed 9-1-1. When the operator answered and asked what her emergency was, she told him, "I'm dying. I've been shot... six times. There's a little boy here. He needs someone to watch over him. Six... two... four... Fern Street."

"Okay, try to relax. We're sending someone over. Do you know who shot you?" the operator asked.

"The kid I'm supposed to be baby-sitting." Julie chuckled sardonically. "Epic fail, huh?"

"Where were you hit?"

"Once in the chest. Three times in the stomach. Once in the shoulder. Once in the hip. I'm pretty sure he blew out my lung. And my liver. And maybe some other vital organs. Quite the little sharp-shooter."

"Are you-"

Julie hung up. It didn't matter where she was shot. She was done for - there was no question about it - and she still had a couple more calls to make. The blood smears on her phone complicated things, but she managed to find her Mr. Barnes' number on her contact list and dial it. After three rings he picked up.

"Julie, what's up?"

[I]Looks like I'll get to talk to Henry's father at least one last time after all.[/I] "Hey, Mr. Barnes. We had a bit of an issue here."

"What happened? Is Henry okay?"

"He's fine." Julie glanced at the boy. "He might be a little uh... rattled, though. There was an accident. He didn't mean any harm. I... I kinda told him I wouldn't tattle on him."

"Is he there? Put him on the phone."

Julie already had it on speaker, so she looked at Henry and said, "You're up, kiddo."

"Daddy?" Henry called out.

"What's going on, Henry?"

"I shot Julie. She's bleeding a lot."

"WHAT!? Julie?"

"He's telling the truth. He did a number on me." Julie answered.

"Did you call an ambulance?"

"I called nine-one-one," Julie replied, declining to mention that a hearse would have been more appropriate.

"Okay, I'll be there as soon as I can," and with that Mr. Barnes hung up.

Julie tried to search for Mom in the contact list, but there was too much blood. Her hands were dripping with the stuff, and she had nowhere to wipe them. Her shirt and shorts were soaked, and the floor was slick with gore.

"Henry, sweetie, could you wipe my blood off the screen?" The boy used his shirt to do as she asked, then handed the phone back to her. "Thanks," she muttered. It went straight to voicemail, but Julie was somewhat relieved; she didn't think she could bear speaking with her mom without breaking down. "Mom. It's me. I love you. Thanks for always being there." She touched the end call icon, blinked back her tears, and lamented, "This sucks. I wish you hadn't done this, Henry."

"I'm sorry, Julie."

"I know, kiddo. So am I." What could have been if I hadn't answered the phone this afternoon? If I had said I was busy? If I had never met Mr. Barnes? How long would I have lived? What would I have experienced in my life? Why did I let him out of my sight? Why didn't I check on him to see what he was up to? There was so much to be sorry for. "I guess now we wait," Julie said, setting the phone on the floor. She let out a long, rattling sigh, and felt the ice cold terror set in. I'm just waiting to die now. I wonder how long I have left? She could feel the world swimming away, and it was all she could do to remain conscious.

After nearly half a minute of silence, she opened her beautiful blue eyes wide and gaped as she felt death's bony fingers stealing her away, and stark panic washed over her. "Henry," she gasped. "I'm so scared."

"Aren't you going to Heaven?"

There's no such thing. "I don't think so, sweetie."

"Why not?"

"I... I duh... I don't know if... Henry. Huh..." She suddenly found it impossible to form words, and simply sat there opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water, her eyes bulging in their sockets. Soon after that she was dead.

Henry poked the ribs of what was once a vibrant and animated girl, then lightly slapped her soft cheeks, but she sat still, her mesmerizingly beautiful face frozen in perpetual horror. He licked his finger and stuck it in her ear and cried, "Wet Willie," but this time he was not rewarded with a cheerful giggle. Instead Julie remained motionless, never to laugh again.


This was... incredible!

I loved both of them! Please keep going!


"You just about done? I need another beer."

A couple of neglected bites of chicken and a few straggling fries were resting unattended on Julie's tray. She was slurping the last bit of coke through her straw, and she nodded at Tom. "Sure. Let's bounce."


Perhaps it was the ecstasy kicking in, but Julie was feeling adventurous, and wasn't quite ready to call it a night. "You wanna try getting into a club?"

"I'm down. The bouncer over at Felini's is a customer of mine. He'll let us in."

"Let's do it."

Nearly an hour later, true to Tom's word, they were waved inside Felini's without question, and Julie followed the drug-dealer into a swarming mob of twenty-somethings, most of them standing around trying to talk over the thumping beats of Sublime's What I Got, others bobbing their heads and moving to the music, while still others were brushing past each other, on their way to a table, to the dance floor, to the bar, to the restroom, or perhaps just wandering aimlessly. Different colored lights flashed brightly overhead, but the club still managed to look dim and seedy.

Tom pushed his way to the bar, Julie close in tow behind him, and slapped a twenty down on the counter. In no time at all a tall, serious looking fellow leaned over to take his order. After handing him a bottle of Budweiser and a cup filled with a colorful concoction, the bartender snatched up the twenty, thanked Tom, and turned his attention to one of the other dozens of patrons patiently awaiting his services.

"Let's get a table," Tom shouted above the roar of the club.

Julie nodded, and again followed Tom through the horde of party-goers. The bar and the restrooms were on the eastern side of the club, the tables and booths on the west, and in between them was the dance floor. Plowing through bodies while trying to remain cordial, Tom and Julie circled the center stage, where drunkards and dance fiends alike shook what mother nature gave them, until Tom apparently caught sight of an acquaintance of his.

"Sammy!" Tom began to bull his way in a new direction, calling to his friend. "Sam!"

Searching for recognition on a boy's face, and wondering if he'd be cute, Julie scanned the crowd, but as it turned out, Sammy was a woman. A blonde who appeared to be in her early twenties smiled at Tom and raised a hand, waving emphatically. Tom smiled back, raised a hand in return, and continued in her direction.

The two embraced, smiling and exchanging salutations. Then Tom intoduced Julie to his friend, and Julie blushed a bit as the bouncy blonde took her in her arms and hugged her warmly. "We're gonna get a table. Come sit with us," Tom shouted to Samantha.

"I'm here with Liz and Adan, follow me." Now Sam led the way as they once again parted the crowd. Back in a booth sat a tubby, unattractive young woman with her arms around a slender, unattractive young man. They both smiled politely and shook hands with Julie and Tom as they were introduced, but they seemed to be lost in each other's charms, barely aware of the world around them. Julie thought it must be a wonderful feeling.

"So where's Jacob?" Tom asked Sammy.

"He started shit and took off with his friends, so fuck 'em."

"That's why I stay single."

Sam rolled her eyes. "You wanna dance?"

Tom shook his head; he wasn't a dancer. "I'm here to drink," he answered, raising his glass.

"That's why you stay single," Sammy told him. Then she shifted her dark, hazel eyes to Julie. "How 'bout you?"

Julie raised her eye brows in surprise. "You wanna dance?"

"Sure, why not?" Sammy called back. The blonde possessed a sexy air of confidence that Julie admired, and she was intrigued. Glancing at Tom, who nodded as if to say go ahead, Julie slid out of the booth and took Sammy's hand.

"So how come I've never met you before?" Sammy asked as she led Julie to the dance floor.

Julie shrugged. "How do you know Tom?"

"How does anybody know Tom? He's the man."

Julie nodded, not quite satisfied with Sammy's answer.

Seeming to sense this, Sammy confided, "He sells weed to my boyfriend." She paused before adding, "And sometimes we go skiing." Familiar with the lingo, Julie knew this wasn't the type of skiing that involved strapping long, wooden planks to your feet.

"I don't go out with him much, usually we just talk on the phone or I stop by his pad for a while," Julie said. "We're from the same neighborhood."

Sammy nodded. "You like to party though?"

Julie gave her a sheepish grin. She rarely smoked, and this was her first time partying with molly, but she wanted to impress this older girl, so she answered coyly, "Sometimes."

"You sure are something to look at, I'll tell you. How old are you?"

"Eighteen," Julie lied. She didn't know why, or perhaps maybe she did. She was straight, and did not feel any real attraction to this woman, but she could see that the feeling was not mutual, and it may have just been the molly influencing her, but she was curious to see where things would lead. Tupac was singing his rendition of How Do You Want It, and Julie began to twist and grind against the sexy blonde girl, her inhibitions fading into the musky air.

Her hips pistoning, her groin rubbing against Sammy's sleek buttocks, her perky breasts jiggling gently in her bra, Julie worked all her charms for her older companion. She ran her hands down Sammy's body, feeling the young woman's firm muscles flexing, as Sammy twisted her torso to the rhythm of the music. They moved about each other, sauntering boldly in a rhythmic ritual as ancient as the cavemen, and the girls locked eyes. Julie's impossibly blue gaze transfixing Sammy's sultrous stare, a primal, unspoken energy passed between them. Something unseen and inexpressible, but just as real as a bolt of lightning. In that moment Julie knew Sammy wanted her as badly as a person can want another, and she felt strangely powerful in this knowledge.

The dance ended, and the girls returned to their table, where they made small talk and sipped their drinks, but their eyes kept returning to each other, each of them sizing the other up. Tom made a joke and they all laughed, but Julie didn't even catch the punchline. Her attention was on Samantha. Samantha, with her smooth, mountainous breasts bare and thrust upward as she lay on her back, her hands tied to her bed posts, awaiting Julie's touch. Samantha, dancing and twisting around a pole, her every move choreographed for Julie's pleasure, tight latex hugging her voluptuous curves.

It wasn't so much the girl she was attracted to, but the feeling of power she held over her. This older, gorgeous woman was practically eating from the palm of her hand, and it was every bit as much of a drug as the molly. An hour after reaching the club Julie slipped another dose into her drink, tossed it back, and a short time later, when Quad City DJ's hit, Come On 'N' Ride It came blasting through the club's speakers, she couldn't stop her body from moving. She got up and tugged on Samantha's hand. "Come on, we gotta dance to this one."

Samantha laughed and followed Julie back to the dance floor, both girls light of heart and fairly intoxicated. This time their dancing was slightly less erotic and a bit more playful, but the flirtation between them was still easy to detect. As the song faded out Julie placed her hands on Sammy's shoulders, and without thinking, pulled Sammy's body against her own and pressed her lips against the older girl's. Sammy responded with eager receptiveness, their lips parting and tongues darting into one another's mouths.

When they finally separated, Sammy looked at Julie with burning hunger. "Let's get out of here. Go back to my place."

Her breath short, her heart pounding in her chest, Julie nodded slowly. It was crazy, she was straight, she was Catholic, she was underage, she had just met this woman, and the woman had a boyfriend. She shouldn't be going home with her. Everything about it was wrong. Still, Julie said yes with hardly a second thought. She had her whole life to do the right thing. Tonight she wanted to do something bad.

Samantha rented a house in a run down neighborhood south of I-10, where the buildings were all dark and forboding. Chipped paint, crumbling roofs, and shoddily kept yards were the predominant traits of the area. Although her home was slightly better maintained than those surrounding it, Sam's pad was no prize.

Deterioration could be detected on some of the corners of the outer walls, but most of the exterior appeared to be in tact. The front door was a rotting piece of oak with peeling white paint, and inside the floor was composed of wooden planks which creaked when you walked on them, covered in places by cheap white rugs.

The house was tidy enough, the type of order one would expect to find in a single female's residence. Things were in their proper places, the floor and furniture relatively dust free. While there were no precious trinkets or pricey knick knacks to be found, the place was well furnished.

Wasting no time with these trivial observations, Julie and Sam made a bee line for the bedroom, sucking face and tearing at each other's clothes. By the time the pining tandem had breached the boudoir, Julie was topless and hitching her fingers into her jeans, sliding them down her legs. Her wonderful tits peaked upward, as if her nipples were asking Sam to suck them.

Samantha's blouse was open in front, her bra removed, and her lovely round breasts bounced gently on her chest, perky and firm despite their considerable size. Her flat, firm belly trembled with excitement, and she dropped her skirt at the foot of the bed.

Julie stepped out of her jeans and moved towards her, putting her hands on those magnificent jiggling globes. Her fingers squeezed and caressed, playing with the nipples, feeling them stiffen under her touch. A soft moan passed over Julie's lips as Sam slipped her fingers into Julie's warm, moist womanhood.

They fell on the bed together, Julie's thick, curvy body covering Sam's slightly firmer, trimmer, figure. Brown hair dangling over her brow, Julie's sparkling, vibrant blue eyes gazed playfully at the girl below her, perky breasts hanging from her chest, sashaying gently between them. She gasped as she felt Sam's teeth biting into her left nipple, gnawing gently at the skin. Her hand went to that breast, clamping down on the base, pushing the fat towards its tip, creating pressure.

"Oh God," Julie sighed, rolling on the bed, clutching herself in rhapsody, while Sam's fingers rubbed all the right nerves in her clitoris. After a while Sam went down on her, doing things with her skillful tongue that Julie never dreamt possible. Pleasure continued to build in her nether regions, gaining momentum like a snow ball tumbling down a hill, until Julie thought she would burst with ecstasy. Her cries of delectation grew in volume and frequency, her hands clawing frantically at her pert, firm bosom. When at last Sam was finished Julie was weak in the knees, completely out of breath, and indescribably satiated. She had never expected this to feel so good.

Dreamy, euphoric blue eyes gazed at Sam from behind her tousled bangs, and Sam smiled at her. Sam had all the experience in this department, it seemed, and Julie was surprised to find herself a little embarrassed that she could not aptly return the favor. She opened her mouth as if to say something to this effect, but Sam stopped her with a finger to her lips.

"Don't worry, you did fine." Sam winked at her. "I've got my trusty vibrator and a freshly filled spank bank. Just sit back and watch."

So Julie sat on the bed while Sam dug a pink, plastic device, an inch and a half in diameter and perhaps ten inches long, out of her underwear drawer. Big, perfect white teeth glimmered in the dimly lit room as Julie grinned sheepishly. A switch was flipped and the little device sprang to life, buzzing robustly in Sam's palm. Sam laid down on the bed next to Julie, looking up at her with ravished eyes, and inserted the toy in her vagina.

It was incredibly stimulating to watch, and as Sam worked Julie began fingering herself and pinching her nipples with renewed zest. Before long both girls were moaning, climbing the summit of human elation, Julie for the second time that night. Their business concluded at roughly the same time, and for a while after they only stared into each other's eyes, both of them spent and out of breath.

"You wanna stay the night?" Sam finally asked, smiling gently at her newfound lover.

Christ, what am I doing? Julie thought. She was already in shit up to her neck with her parents, and she had just committed a grave sin by laying with a woman, if she believed that shit they taught her at the church. To make matters worse, she was compounding that sin by fucking a girl who was already in a relationship. Still, she knew she was going to stay even before she opened her mouth to reply, "Yeah, if that's okay."

"Sure, I can give you a ride home in the morning. I've got some shorts you can wear." Sammy tossed Julie a worn pair of blue cotton shorts, which Julie slipped into, and deciding to sleep topless, she didn't bother with her shirt or bra. She received no arguments from Sam on that count. "Are you sure you're eighteen?"

Julie's seventeenth birthday was more three weeks away, but she nodded.

They climbed into bed and Sam switched off the bedside lamp.

"Good night, Julie." Sam was smiling as she closed her eyes. For some time Julie just lie awake, watching Sam doze off, remembering how wonderful this woman had made her feel. Life was a beautiful thing. Her head was still spinning from the alcohol, she had just experienced her first sexual encounter in a way she had never imagined, her emotions were tuned up thanks to the MDMA, and she was lying in bed next to a drop dead sexy woman. Who would have thought her night would end with such bliss? As her eyes finally closed, she focused on Sam's steady breathing, and tried to stop smiling.

Julie's conscious thoughts were just beginning to trail off when there came a noise at the door. Her eyes popped open, reality cruising back, washing away the dream world where she had been telling Tom something nonsensical, something she could no longer put her finger on, and she distinctly heard the sound of a key turning in a lock.

"Sam," Julie whispered as she heard the front door swing open. Sam rolled over in the bed they shared and rubbed her eyes. "Someone's here." The floorboards creaked as someone, someone heavy, walked across them.

Sam's eyes widened in fear. "Jacob?" she called out.

"He lives here?" Julie asked.

Hastily getting out of bed, Sam whispered back, "No, but he has a key." She was pulling on a pair of warm ups and running a hand through her hair.

Fuck, Julie thought. What did I get myself into? While Sam rushed to meet her boyfriend at the door, Julie searched for her blouse, but realizing she had left it in her wake on the way to Sam's bedroom, she opted for one of Sam's shirts instead. It was a white, button down thing, all the buttons currently undone, and just as Julie slipped it around her arms she heard shouting outside the bedroom door.

"Who's here with you?!"

"No one. Jacob, please, you're drunk!"

There was a crashing sound, followed by a timid cry from Sam, and in her mind's eye Julie saw Sammy trying to stop some drunken brute from entering her bedroom, the drunken brute tossing her aside like a ragdoll. She didn't realize how painfully accurate this actually was. She glanced at the window and considered trying to escape, but would there be enough time to fumble open the locks, wherever they might be, raise the window, and scamper out?

Fuck, what did I get myself into?

Deciding she had to try, Julie hopped over the bed and threw open the curtains, but was dismayed to see that the window was barred to prevent break-ins.

Julie briefly entertained the idea of hiding under the bed, but when she turned around she saw Sam's angry boyfriend towering in the doorway. His face was red as a cherry, his eyes bloodshot from the booze but brimming with rage, and a plump purple vein throbbed on his forehead. If he was a cartoon there would be steam rising from his head. Frozen in fear, Julie looked at the behemoth blocking her escape.

"Look, I'm sorry, I didn't know," she lied, "I thought she was single." It immediately occurred to her that she might be making things worse for Sam, but it was the only defense she could think of.

"Sammy, you slut," Jacob roared. "This is what you do when I'm not here? You fuck ditzy little high school chicks?" He moved towards Julie, and Julie scooped up Sammy's cell phone from the night stand, waving it in front of her like it was a magic relic that would ward off evil.

"I'll call the cops," she threatened.

Jacob roared with laughter. "You can try."

Realizing the bastard would be on her before should even dial nine, Julie chunked the useless device at him, but he ducked and it sailed over his head, smashing into pieces against the wall behind him. Rising back up, he smiled at her, but there was not a shred of good-nature in that grin.

Oh God, this is bad. Attacking the beastly man head on without any sort of weapon was madness, so Julie leaped over the bed and scrambled for the closet, hoping to discover a golf club or a baseball bat or a machine gun. Despite his size and apparent inebriation, Jacob moved with surprising nimbleness. He met her at the closet door, took hold of her shoulders, and pinned her against the wall.

"Sammy!" Julie cried.

"She's had a little accident," Jacob told her, almost regretfully. "But now you and I are gonna have some fun." A gorilla sized fist slammed into her stomach, knocking the wind out of her. It felt like she had been hit by a truck.

"Fucker," Julie grunted, mustering up her strength and refusing to be a victim, she seized Jacob's crotch in her right hand and squeezed with everything she had. The fucker's jaw dropped and his facial muscles tightened. The grip on Julie's shoulders was suddenly relinquished as his hands went to his groin, hoping to liberate his privates from her ironclad grasp, and she pushed him back, letting go of him as he crumbled to his knees.

She darted around the bastard and headed for the door, no longer concerned with her purse or her bra or even Sam's safety, but it was not to be. Jacob, with one hand on his johnson, fell to the floor and stretched out a long, thick arm. His reaching fingers found purchase on Julie's right ankle, and she went sprawling. She clawed frantically at the floor boards as Jacob hauled her in.

Keep fighting him. Don't give up. Kicking wildly, Julie's left foot connected with Jacob's jaw and she broke free. Jacob reeled from the blow, but he was quick to recover. As Julie scrambled to her feet so did he.

"Sammy," Julie shouted again as she reached the doorway. Then she was yanked back by her blouse, twirled around, and slung into the bookcase against the eastern wall.

She lost her footing and went tumbling head first, but managed to raise her right arm to protect her face as she crashed into the shelves. Sixty pounds of polished wood and an army of hard cover books came toppling down on top of her, crushing her with its weight.

"You bitch!" Jacob shouted.

That's me, Julie thought, dazed. She struggled against the toppled shelf, but with little success. Just as she prepared to double her efforts, Jacob lifted the book case off her with surprising ease, then pulled her from the clutter. Julie's feet barely touched the floor as she was lifted into the air, then went hurtling into the doorway. Her back smacked against the hard wooden frame, and a line of flesh seemed to raise up where she made impact. Groaning in agony, before Julie could recover Jacob was on top of her, this time lifting her by her hair.

It felt as if her scalp would be ripped off her head, but somehow it remained attached. She was hoisted off the ground until she was eye level with Goliath, then the titan unleashed a whistling left handed roundhouse, smashing Julie's right cheek and knocking her senseless. Bright light replaced her vision for an indefinite period of time, and when she regained her senses she was on her hands and knees, hair hanging in her face.

She rose up, not sure where she was or how she got there, and felt a foot plant itself in the center of her back. She stumbled forward, out of control, until her left thigh collided with a small cabinet and she went tumbling. Julie rolled onto her side, feeling the hard wood floor beneath her, and as she looked at her surroundings she recognized Sam's living room. There was a couch near the cabinet that had tripped her up, a TV on the far side of the room, a recliner beyond the couch, a few potted plants here and there, a glass coffee table, and in a corner lie Sam, her head twisted at an impossible angle and her eyes blank and glossy and staring.

"Sam!" Julie cried. Sam's dead, she told herself. It didn't seem possible. Not thirty minutes ago she'd had Sam's talented tongue in her snatch, awakening nerves Julie never even knew existed. An hour ago they had been grinding against each other on the dance floor, the blonde woman's lithe body so vibrant and alive it was easy to believe she'd never die. But there she was, crumpled and lifeless in the corner.

There was no time to grieve, however, as a foot came blurring into view, and Julie just caught sight of it before it connected with her jaw, snapping her head back and bloodying her lip. She raised her hands to shield her face from further blows, and her savage assailant delivered several bone crushing kicks to her body instead.

With two of her ribs cracked, Julie rolled away from the impact and got to her knees. I've got to get away. I can't let him kill me like he did Sam. Can't. Her mind was racing as she struggled to find her feet, the couch at her back seemingly conspiring against her, making it difficult to rise up. A powerful kick caught her square in the stomach, and then she was being lifted off the floor again. Before she could find her bearings she came crashing down through the coffee table, shards of glass slicing up her arms and her back.

Julie rolled groggily onto her stomach and half-crawled, half-ran for the kitchen, until she found herself in front of an island with a kitchen block stocked full of knives. Suspended above the island was a rack from which at least a dozen shiny pots and pans dangled like giant wind chimes. No sooner than did Julie's fingers brush against the handle of a butcher knife, did a pair of hands snag her from behind, one lifting her up from her firm round buttocks and the other tugging on the collar of her borrowed blouse, a blouse that now belonged to a dead girl. Before she could react she was flung forward over the island, crashing through the pots and pans and smacking against the cabinets beneath the kitchen sink.

Sprawled on the floor, she felt the scattered cooking ware poking her in the back. She hauled herself back to her feet and brought the heaviest skillet she could get her hands on with her, aiming to slam it into the side of the bastard's head, but Jacob was ready for her, and he caught her wrist before she could brain him. Her left hand, which was empty, reached for the bastard's face, hoping to put out an eye, but she faltered when she felt a heavy fist slam into her belly.

Instead of putting out an eye her nails dug furrows in the bastard's cheek, but she lost her grip on the skillet. Her wind was just beginning to come back to her after the crushing blow to her gut when Jacob's right hand clamped down on her throat like a vice. She clawed frantically at an arm built like a tree trunk, but it earned her no reprieve. Her already tightly constricted trachea became nearly closed off completely when Jacob lifted the teen in the air, her bare feet kicking uselessly at empty space.

So this is what it feels like to hang, Julie thought with horror. How am I going to get out of this? I can't let him kill me, but he's so strong. Maybe if I can reach his face again. But before Julie could make another go for his eye she was slung through the air and slammed down on her back atop the stove. The clenched fist still remained tight around her throat, however, and her astonishingly beautiful young face was turning an alarming shade of purple.

She soon had new problems to worry her aside from a lack of air, as Jacob switched on the burners. It was a gas stove, so hot flames quickly set Sam's blouse alight, and Julie began to burn. A shriek died in her constricted throat, and all she managed was a choked grunt, but she bucked and kicked with renewed vigor in an effort to escape the fire at her back. With a twist of her powerfully built torso Julie finally managed to gain some leverage, wedging her leg between herself and Jacob, and with a shove of her foot she was free.

She rolled off the stove and ended up back on the floor amidst the scattered pots and pans, and with pained gasps she shook the charring blouse from her shoulders. Black and red skin blistered on her back, but she had managed to free herself from the flames. As she struggled to find her footing and make a run for it, she felt those hateful fingers snatch up a handful of hair and lift her off the floor.

"Stop," she pleaded, her voice tired and cracking, but Jacob did not stop. Instead he stuck a steak knife into her lower back, and Julie's eyes went wide and her jaw dropped. In a flurry, the knife moved in and out of her three more times in the space of about one and a half seconds, and Julie struggled to get away.

Jesus, he's poking me full of holes. This is bad. This is so fucking bad.. She finally managed to pull free of his grip, losing a few strands of hair in the process, and turned to face him, just in time for him to slip the knife into her again, this time entering her soft tummy to the right of her navel. Julie squealed weakly, then groaned as the blade was removed and reinserted in her midriff twice more. Spurts of blood splashed across the kitchen floor, spattering her toes, but she reacted valiantly, seizing the bastard's ears and slamming the crown of her head into his nose. There was a satisfying crunch, and when she let go of him, Jacob staggered backwards, cupping his face in his hands, and Julie saw that she was no longer the only one bleeding.

"Bith, boo boke by bose!" Jacob whined, and Julie couldn't restrain a snort of laughter, even though it caused a jarring jolt of agony in her ravaged belly.

With one hand pressed against her stomach, Julie scooped up one of the pots that had dropped on the island. Jacob was injured, but not badly enough. If she tried to run he'd be on her in no time, and she wasn't interested in being carved up any further, so she swung the pot with everything she had, even though it felt like she was tearing her insides apart.

This time she was rewarded with considerably more success, as Jacob tried to dodge the blow too late and the left side of his face was crushed. The big guy went down, and Julie took that as her queue to run.

She had seen horror movies where the victim has her killer on the ropes and fails to finish the job, and she had mocked them for their stupidity, but in that moment she remembered none of that. All she knew was that she was hurt badly, maybe even dying, and she needed to get away. She needed help, and with Jacob down, this was her chance.

So she turned and ran, as best a person in her condition could run, and made it out the front door. Once in the cool night air, she opened her mouth to scream for help, but her voice was too hoarse from nearly having her windpipe crushed, and all she could muster was a meager squeak.

Having no vehicle in which to escape, she staggered down the driveway and into the street. Someone would come. Someone would help. They just had to. She looked up and down the block and saw no one, no lights, no signs of life whatsoever, then glanced back at Sam's front door, half expecting to see Jacob come charging out after her. She breathed a sigh of relief when the fuck stick was nowhere in sight, and cast her incredible blue eyes down to her belly, where she was clutching herself with both hands. Gouts of blood spurted through her fingers and spattered her toes, and Julie was beginning to feel light-headed. I've gotta get help. I can't die like this. I'm not ready to die.

Barefoot, bare breasted, bruised, battered, brutalized and bleeding, Julie padded down the middle of the street, her beautiful blue eyes searching frantically for a friendly face. When she reached the end of block she cast another look back, again expecting to see Jacob hot on her heels, but it seemed she had really given the bastard the slip. "Oh thank God," she whispered hoarsely, and she turned left.

Halfway down the adjacent block she finally saw lights. Headlights, no less, of an approaching vehicle. She scampered towards it and waved her hands over her head, ecstatic when it slowed to a stop. Thrilled to have narrowly escaped what she feared was certain death, she climbed hastily into the passenger seat. "Thank you," she squeaked, her voice barely audible, "I need he..." It was all she managed before an iron fist smashed into the side of her head, and everything went dim. She retained just enough of her senses to perceive her temple being slammed into the dashboard, and then she lost consciousness.

When she came to, she was slung over a muscular shoulder, being touted back into Samantha's house. As she was tossed back into the kitchen, Julie began to understand that she had unwittingly climbed into Jacob's car as he pursued her. Just like those idiot girls in all those horror movies, she thought to herself. The small of her back collided with the edge of the kitchen island, bending her over backwards before she dropped to the floor. She struggled to find her footing, and just managed to stand before Jacob clouted her with a right hook.

She ended up with her head dangling over the sink, spitting blood into the basin. [i]I was out,[i] she thought in frustration. [i]I can't believe I'm back here, doing this again. I was fucking out![i] She pushed off the counter and turned back towards Jacob just in time to see him lunge at her with a butcher knife. Dancing away and raising her left arm in defense, Julie received a deep cut along her forearm, then screamed, "Wait!" Fighting her way out was becoming increasingly difficult, but perhaps she could reason and bargain her way out of this. "You need me alive!"

Jacob's jaw was shattered, his mouth hung open grotesquely, so he did not respond, but Julie could see the intrigue and puzzlement on his face, so she went on. "I can testify for you. In court." Jacob tried to smile, twisting his mouth into a horrifying misshapen grin. "The cops are gonna know you were here." Julie said hurriedly as Jacob lunged at her again.

There was nowhere left to run. Julie was backed into a corner, the kitchen sink to her right and a kitchen counter at her back and to the left, so she tried to catch Jacob's arm as he thrust at her with the knife. It was like trying to stop a BMW. The huge blade slammed into her midsection, slightly left of her navel. She felt the sickening sensation as the steel cut deep, severing muscles and intestines as it went clean through her. She knew immediately that the wound was much worse than those left by the steak knife. This blade was five times as large.

She barely had time to grunt before Jacob pulled the blade free and jammed it back into her upper abdomen, slicing through her solar plexus. This time the pain hit her like a tidal wave, beyond anything she imagined possible. "Ooooo," she moaned miserably, her eyes bulging in their sockets and her mouth yawning in shock and disbelief. So many thoughts flitted through her pretty head, all of them tarnished by the horrible realization that she was cornered, helpless, and this man was killing her. STOP HIM!

Julie wheezed as the knife was messily retracted, slicing downward through her guts in the process, and just managed to catch her breath and squeal, "Stop," before it plunged into her again, this time a little lower, and Julie felt the steel scraping against her spine as it made its way through her tummy. "Please, I didn't know," she gasped. Jacob twisted the knife, slicing sideways as he withdrew it, then slipped it back into her, to the right of her navel. Julie cried out softly, then added, "You can fuck me." Another twist and pull, and the knife was free again. Julie winced as the blade ran her through a fifth time, a little higher and farther to the right this time, and she babbled hurriedly, "We can have sex. I'll suck your dick." The heartless bastard answered her by pulling the knife sideways through her belly, slicing her wide open before finally retrieving the steel from her flesh.

Glistening pink tubing began to uncoil and slide out of her, and Julie tried to clutch at it as it fell, but her coordination was leaving her. She spared a quick downward glance to see a torrent of bloodshed and a few loops of entrails draped over her fingers, then looked back up into her killer's eyes as he ran her through a sixth time, a couple inches above her belly button. "Flaaauuulp," she gasped, and droplets of blood spattered from her lush lips.

She saw nothing but cruel rage in her killer's eyes, not a shred of humanity, and understood her pleas were falling on deaf ears. Her heart went cold as she realized she was going to die. Nothing would stop that now.

As the knife left her flesh for the sixth time, Julie slid down the cabinets until her butt touched the floor. She remained in that position, sitting with her guts in her lap, blinking away tears and trying to cope with the awful realization that this was truly it. Her reality was coming to an end. "I'm so scared," she said meekly, looking up at Jacob, who stood stoically in front of her, watching her die. The knife that had ended her remained clutched in his grasp, her blood dripping from the blade. "I don't want to die." Her lower lip trembled, and Jacob did not answer. "This is so stupid," she whined. "Why did you have to kill me? You were already gonna go to jail for killing Sam. I didn't even know you. You could have just let me go."

Jacob knelt beside her and almost loving caressed her left breast, before slipping all fourteen inches of the giant butcher knife into it. Julie thought he meant to stab her in the heart, but she felt the steel slicing through her lung instead. When he removed the blade a wheezing cough brought more pink blood to her lips, and Julie whimpered, "Ohmagawd, ohmagawd, ohmagawd, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck." Her chest filled with a crushing pain, and her breath drew short. "I'm dying." *gasp* "I don't." *gasp* "Idoanwannadie." Jacob guided the blade back into her chest, between her fifth and sixth ribs, just below the swell of her left breast. Julie saw it disappear inside of her, her eyes bulging with disbelief, and saw it come back out. "Nonononono. Nononononono." She moved her left hand to her wounded tit and kept her right hand on her belly, grasping at her liberated bowels.

When Jacob slid the knife through her right nipple, destroying her last good lung, Julie lost it. It's impossible to describe what she was thinking, because her thought processes had broken down at this point and she was nothing more than a panicked animal. She elicited a wordless moan. "Aaaaoooommmaaaaaaallllluuu," too terrified to actually speak, or even form a coherent thought. This seemed to please Jacob, as he stood up, leaving the knife buried in Julie, a broken smile trying to form on his ruined mouth. They remained that way, Jacob watching Julie wallow in indescribable anguish, for the next twenty-two minutes and thirty-seven seconds, before Julie finally died.


Julie Plays Ball

"Come on, Andy, if I watch one more of Grandma's fucking novelas I'm gonna fucking die."

"Ay ay, pinche drama queen. You're like one of those fucking characters and shit." Andy put the back of his hand to his forehead and pretended he was the star of Lo Impernodable. "Voy a morir, que lastima!"

"Fuck you, I'm serious. If I don't go brain dead from boredom, I'll blow my fucking brains out." Julie had been in sunny Southern California for four days, and it felt like four decades. They hadn't gone to a baseball game, an amusement park or even the beach. All she did was sit around the house while her tia, grandma and mom gossiped and played cards.

"Look, Julia, I'll take you, but these vatos are the real deal. They're fucking g's, a'ite, so no fucking around. Tienes respeto ayi, entiendes?"

Julie smile at her cousin's concession and happily agreed. "Of course, cousin. I always have respect."

"Ay dios mio, what am I doing?" Andy sighed.

They both knew Julie had a mouth on her that often went unchecked, but Andy was acting like LA was the only place in America with cholos. Julie had been around thugs and gang-bangers before, and she knew how to handle herself. It was nothing special really, just don't show them any weakness. Guys like that respected ganas, and she had that in spades. "Relax, cuz, I'll be fine. I think you're just scared I'm gonna show you up with my sick skills."

"Yeah, whatever prima, I know you got moves, but you can't get past the tower of power, esa." Andy jumped up and swatted at an imaginary ball.

Julie rolled her eyes and laughed. "Okay, dude. We'll see."

When they arrived at the park, Julie saw there was a game already in progress. While she wore black basketball shorts, hi-tops, and a sleeveless tee shirt, nobody else appeared dressed for the game. The players wore Chucks and Cortezes, wife-beaters and over-sized tees, and baggy khakis or denim shorts that sagged below their knees. Half of them wore no tops at all, and Julie understood it was a skins versus shirts game.

When there was a break in the action, one of them noticed her and her cousin and whistled. "Hey, what's up, holmes, who's the ruca?"

"She's my prima. She thinks she's gonna take all you putos to school."

One of the others spoke up then, clad in a tank top and locs, with a shaved head and at least a dozen tattoos up and down his arms. "Orale. That makes it five on five. You're with us, Puppet. Tell your cousin to take off her shirt so she can be a skin."

Andy looked at Julie and Julie looked back at Andy, then she flashed with anger. "Bullshit, motherfucker, you take off your shirt and join the skins."

"Oye, chica, that's not how it works. I get first choice, and I pick your cousin Puppet. You wanna play on our court, you gotta play by our rules."

Julie saw the apologetic look on her cousin's face that told her this is the way it is, and she knew she either had to roll with it or go back home. Julie stripped off her shirt indignantly, then glared at the tattooed punk, "You happy now, perv?"

"Chale, that sports bra tambien, esa."

"Are you fucking serious?"

"We can't be getting confused and shit," Tattoos told her with a half-smile. "I need to see that skin to know you're not on my team."

Julie hesitated for just a moment before deciding to go through with it. She wasn't going back to the house to sit on her ass another day, not when she could spend the morning playing five on five. There were a couple spectators sipping on quarts of beer, and nine other players including her cousin, but nobody else would see her. The park was otherwise deserted, and the court was surrounded by a chain link fence and towering oak trees that provided shade. She pulled off her sports bra, freeing her springy, small, budding breasts to bounce in the warm summer air. "Alright, fuck it, let's play"

"Orale, now we got a game!"

Julie felt self-conscious at first, her flesh hot with embarrassment, but she shrugged it off. She knew everyone was looking at her with lust in their eyes, but what could she do? It was no secret that she was a very attractive girl. She pulled a white head band from her pocket and pulled back her chocolate-colored hair, stretching her soft stomach taut, then held her hands behind her head for a moment and jiggled her titties, showing them off. "You fuckers got a good look? Can we fucking play now?"

"You got some fire in you," Tattoos told her. "What's your name, homegirl?"

"Julie. What's yours?"

"I'm Flaco. You're with Smiley, Payaso, Guero, and Chino over there. Fucking skins. Your ball. Bring it in." Flaco tossed her the ball and Julie flipped it to Chino, whom she quickly learned was the best ball-handler on the court, excluding herself of course. Payaso could shoot when she got him the rock with an open look, and Smiley and Guero were mostly useless, although Guero had enough size to grab a few rebounds and set a few picks. Still, Julie and Chino ran the court for three games, weaving around defenders and scoring almost at will, occasionally kicking it out to Payaso for an easy jumper, and all three times the skins won by a sizable margin.

During the fourth game Flaco's frustration was beginning to show, and Julie smirked at him. "Maybe you should have picked me and made my cousin a skin, huh?"

"Maybe I should have, but then I wouldn't have got to see these titties," Flaco reached out and pinched Julie's left nipple, and without thinking she slapped him hard across the face. She saw the quiet rage behind his eyes and knew she had crossed a line, immediately regretting her lack of self-control. She wouldn't apologize, because the bastard deserved to get slapped, but she timidly backed away.

"Thanks for the games," she said to no one in particular, knowing it was time for her to leave, with or without her cousin. She turned to go pick up her shirt and was met with a knife in her belly.

At first she thought she had been punched, but when she looked down she saw the handle sticking out of Payaso's hand and her blood beginning to spill out of her gut. Her stunning blue eyes opened wide as sand dollars, and her perfect lips yawned in an O of shock and horror. Five minutes ago she had been fist-bumping this kid after he nailed a three-pointer. Was he really now on the other end of the knife buried in her belly?

As quickly as he had inserted the blade, Payaso retracted it, and Julie shoved him away, only to feel the sharp pain as another knife slipped into her lower back. She arched forward and reached around with her left hand to feel the wetness of blood on her back, and again the knife was removed almost as soon as it had entered her. She turned to see Flaco holding a bloodied switchblade, and when she looked at the other players on the court she saw they had all produced butterfly knifes, switchblades, or some other version of a flip-out pocket knife. Even the pair of spectators had put down their brews and were hustling onto the court, brandishing blades of their own.

"Wait," Julie stammered as Li'l Sniper stepped forward and jabbed at her. She managed to catch his arm and stall his attack, but she was forced back a step and she felt three blades slip into her flesh from behind - one in her lower left ribs, one near the center of her back, one below her right shoulder blade. With Julie weakened by the pain and surprise of these three fresh stab wounds, Li'l Sniper was able to drive his blade home in the right side of her abs. Before he could retreat with his knife, however, Julie slammed the palm of her right hand into his Adam's apple, crushing his wind pipe and causing him to collapse, his knife still buried in her gut.

Julie yanked the blade from her body and took a swipe at Smiley, who darted out of harm's way, and then she felt a pair of arms envelope her from behind. Her wrist was snared and the blade was plucked from her fingers and her hands were pinned behind her head, while Guero and Payaso stepped forward and perforated her outstretched and vulnerable belly with a flurry of thrusts. In and out, in and out, in and out. A horrified Julie watched helplessly as she was savaged, grunting with each piercing. Eleven fresh stab wounds opened in her midriff while she worked out her next move.

Stamping her heel on the toes of her ensnarer afforded enough wiggle room to toss her head back and connect with something considerably softer than the back of her skull. There was a satisfying crunch and suddenly she was free. She caught the wrists of both Guero and Payaso, and she disabled Payaso with a knee to the groin. Guero was too strong, and when he drove his blade into her tummy again, this time he began to carve her up.

Cold steel moved in a curve, working up through her bowels, until Julie reached up and pressed her thumb into Guero's left eye socket. The bastard screamed and backed away, withdrawing his blade and clutching his wounded eye. She thought she saw blood pouring through his fingers, but she didn't have time to look closely.

Smiley was back, sliding his knife through the third and fourth ribs on her right side, then narrowly avoiding her elbow when she threw it at him. "Stop!" she screamed, with enough force to give pause to the boys grouped in front of her. Behind her someone jabbed a blade into her lower left dorsal and someone else stuck her in the right shoulder blade, but then there was a brief moment where they all just looked her, this beautiful dying animal, and time stood still.

Julie looked down at herself and splayed both hands across her belly. Blood squirted and gushed, and a loop of intestines was squirming through the moon-shaped laceration Guero had left in her, and when she looked back up at her assailants she was out of breath and her bangs dangled messily in her face, her pale skin was pallid and waxy, with the exception of her cheeks, which were still flush from her workout, and she was perhaps more beautiful than ever. "Please. Stop. You don't have to kill me," she panted, and then the moment passed.

A hand clasped her on the shoulder and a knife slid into the center of her back. "Sorry, prima, you should not have disrespected mi familia." It was almost a whisper, right next to her ear, and Julie thought it was the stupidest thing she had ever heard.

"[I]I'm[/I] your familia," she hissed, and her cousin stabbed her a second time, steel scraping against her spine. [I]That asshole disrespected me,[/I] she thought, but lacked the strength to say aloud. A shove sent her stumbling, but she caught herself and held her arms out for balance, while Smiley, Chuco, and one of the beer-guzzling spectators closed in on her.

"No," she cried, as the spectator attacked first, and she met his knife with her left hand, stopping the blade as it punched through her palm. Chuco's blade came unmolested and found her firm right breast, piercing the outer areola, and she got a hand on Smiley's blade but only managed to slice open her middle finger before it poked into the right side of her ribs, just above her stomach. All three boys pulled back, knives in hand, leaving Julie reeling, and the second spectator came next, but Julie managed to catch him in the gut with a sidekick.

The boy doubled over, but he held onto her foot and a crowd closed on her outstretched leg like jackals. Knives stabbed into her thigh in three different places, another found her calf, and a fifth poked her in the right buttock. She glanced over her shoulder and complained, "Seriously, you stabbed me in the ass?", and she managed to pull her leg free, losing her shoe in the process.

A knife punctured the small of her back, to the left of her spine, and another got her in the back of her ribs, off to the right. Julie spun around, hobbling on her one good leg and swinging wildly. She got a good look at the next bastard to come at her, Cholo, she thought his name was, and she caught him in the jaw with a solid right hook. Nevertheless, he slashed at her as he was hit, and he opened up the left side of her belly with a gaping diagonal gash, spilling even more of her intestines.

Faces began to blur together at that point. Here was Chino, sticking her in the left side. Here came Guero, his eye blood red, and she just managed to get her right arm up between them before his knife came slashing forward, sinking deep into the muscles of her forearm. Flaco and his busted nose came from the left, and she flailed at him, catching his knife with her upper triceps. Her cousin jabbed her in the left breast, Payaso in her right. Someone poked a new hole in the small of her back, and someone else poked a couple more a little higher up. One of the beer-guzzlers stabbed her in the right shoulder. Chuco or Cholo or some damned thing stuck her below her left breast, then above her left breast. Chino was back, stabbing her three times in the right side of her chest. Julie raked at his face, digging her fingernails into his cheek, and he backed away, but then there was Guero again, jabbing her in the upper left abdomen, and her cousin stabbing her just below her sternum. She tried to stop another attack from Flaco and sliced her fingers to the bone, cut the webbing between the third and fourth digits of her right hand, and still got stuck in the upper swell of her right tit. A figure on her right slipped a blade through her ribs, and another on her left ventilated the back of her torso, below her shoulder and near her underarm.

Julie grunted and gasped and cried each time cold steel found her flesh, and in between she tried to beg, plead and reason her way out of this, but the onslaught was coming too quickly, so all she could manage was the occasional, "No!", or "Stop!" or "Please!"

A knife gouged her in the right side of her neck, and another sunk into her back between her shoulder blades. A knife came at her chest, it might have belonged to Chuco/Cholo, [i]were they the same guy?[/I], and she slapped it away, earning another deep cut across her left palm. She raised her right arm to fend off one of the beer-drinking spectators, and someone seized it and there was suddenly a knife in her forearm, then another, and then another in her biceps. While she was wrenching her arm free she got stabbed two more times in the left breast, and twice more in the left side of her back. Someone else buried a blade in the base of the left side of her neck.

Julie continued to fight for her life, but she was running out of steam and her flailing was becoming increasingly ineffectual. Boys no longer needed to stick and move, and as evidence of this, Guero came forward and took hold of her right arm and just began poking holes up and down the right side of her body. Once, twice, three times, four times, five times, his blade sought out her soft teenage flesh, and she was helpless to stop it. Three wounds ascending up her abdomen, another in the ribs, another in the outer curve of her breast.

Meanwhile, Chino was holding her left arm and jabbing away. Two quick thrusts around her navel, a third off to the side and slightly higher up, in the upper left quadrant of her tummy, then a fourth in the same area, two more in the side of her ribs, one through her left nipple, and another above her breast.

While Guero and Chino were assaulting her front, she was simultaneously being stabbed in the back. Five fresh punctures spread across her lumbar region, then six more were gouged in her upper back, from shoulder to shoulder. Having sustained eighty-seven stab wounds, her struggles all but ceased, and she was released. Julie slumped to her knees as her attackers circled around her, pausing to see if she would fall.

Her hair hung in front of her brilliant blue eyes, her breathing was labored, her shoulders were heavy, and occasionally a harsh wheezing cough brought blood to her lips, but Julie remained upright, refusing to drop. She knew if she went down she'd never get back up, and she wasn't ready to die.

"Puta!" Flaco hissed, and he kicked her in her gorgeous face. Julie's lower lip split open and she reeled from the blow, placing her palm on the pavement to brace herself before bobbing back up like a free-standing punching bag. Someone kicked her in the ear, and again she kept her balance. Then she was donkey-punched in the back of the head, and her world went black for a moment.

When she regained her senses, she was on her hands and knees, trying to crawl. She didn't know where she was going. Clearly she wasn't going to crawl all the way back to her grandma's house, and it was painfully apparent that these boys had no intention of letting her escape, but what could she do? So she crawled, and kicks rained in on her from all sides, pummeling her ribs and stomach.

Her intestines dangled grotesquely from her tummy, and more than once a shoe got tangled in her viscera and gave them a nasty tug, but Julie persevered. A knife sank into the left side of her back, and another in the right. Someone jabbed her three times in her left buttock while cackling, "You stabbed me in the ass," mocking her, and still Julie crawled. Someone planted a foot on her side and gave her a shove, toppling her over, and Julie picked herself back up and continued crawling.

It wasn't until she reached the chain link fence that surrounded the court that she stopped, realizing the exit was on the opposite end. She put a hand on the fence and tried to claw her way back to her feet, struggling to her knees with someone shouting obscenities and insults in her left ear, and someone else sticking a knife into her right side over and over, adding another six wounds to her badly perforated body. Just as she was starting to think she might stand again, a group of fingers grabbed a handful of her hair and gave it a yank.

Julie tumbled and went sprawling on her back, looking up at all the hateful boys who were jeering and cat-calling and scowling at her. Too exhausted to continue her struggle, Julie finally gave in to her fate. [I]So this is it,[/I] she thought with a shudder. [I]I'm done for.[/I] She remembered telling her cousin that she would die if she had to watch another novela, and she almost laughed. How wrong she had been. She'd give anything to be back at her grandma's house right now, even if it meant watching a marathon of novelas.

[I]I just wanted to play basketball![/I] Julie tried to shout, but panic made it impossible to speak, and she lacked the strength to shout anyway.

"Vamanos, that bitch is toast," Flaco announced, and her tormenters left her to die. One by one they filed through the exit on the opposing side of the court, occasionally pausing to hurl unpleasantries at her, and Payaso even spit on her as a parting gift.

Once she was alone, her mind turned on her, and doubt and fear clouded her thoughts. She remembered a time not so long ago when she would have claimed unshakable faith in God, and thought death was nothing to fear, but now she understood death was the only thing to fear, and her faith in God was fleeting. She made one final attempt to pick herself up off the ground, lifting her head enough to see the mess that had been made of her hot young body, and she saw that Li'l Sniper still lay on the court, several yards away. His lips were blue and he did not appear to breathing, and Julie realized she must have killed him when she collapsed his wind pipe.

It was something in which she would have thought she could take solace - a sixteen-year-old girl had been ambushed and attacked by eleven older boys, all of them armed, and the unarmed girl had managed to kill one of them and injure several more - but as her efforts to stave off death failed, she found nothing could console her.

Her head dropped back to the concrete, and she stared up at the warm summer sun and wondered if there really was a God, and if she might have damned herself by killing that boy. [I]I can't believe this is over. What could I have accomplished? What would my life have been like? I wonder what Andy will tell my mom.[/I] Those were the final thoughts to flutter through her pretty head.


GCM - GuroChan Ministries I presume :)

I just read your first few stories. They're pretty good, I could learn a thing or two about writing from you. Sadly I'm not into young teens so the stories didn't arouse me, but I found the one with the lizards to be pretty funny.


I don't suppose she could be stabbed or shot in the pussy? Perhaps the ass again? Maybe lose her breasts?



Love all these so far! looking forward to more!


Never ever stop writing BloodLust. After a life time of PG-13 stories on this board, its nice to see your stuff again.


Always one of my favorite authors


Thanks for the encouragement!

I honestly don't remember what GCM was supposed to stand for anymore. It was over a year ago when I came up with that acronym. All I remember is the G was for genetic or genetics. The back story was that Mario and Henry worked for this black market company that was creating genetically designed organisms to be used as weaponry, and I even toyed with the idea of writing about how GCM deals with Mario and Henry's families, namely the female members of said families, but the inspiration never really stuck.


Julie's Road Trip

"Brenda and Julie are coming," James said.

Benny could hardly believe his ears. It was too good to be true. They had originally planned the trip as a guys' getaway, but James decided it would be a great opportunity to put the screws to Brenda without having to worry about parental interference. The problem with that was she wasn't too keen on traveling across the great state of Texas with a bunch of boys, so Benny had suggested she bring her pal Julie. He hadn't really expected the idea to stick.

Trying hard to conceal his excitement, Benny casually replied, "Really? Right on. I guess it won't be a sausage fest after all. You sure they're coming?" It would be a cruel joke if they backed out last minute, but James reassured him on that front.

"Yeah, Brenda pitched it to Jules and she was all about it. They're down like James Brown."

The conversation continued for a bit before the two friends hung up, but Benny had checked out. All he could think about was Julie Huerta. She was the most stunning thing he had ever seen. Sunsets and mountains and waterfalls couldn't hold a candle. Neither could any of the girls he had seen on the internet or in the movies; photoshop, liposuction, silicon breasts, facelifts and all. Julie blew them all away.

It wasn't just the way she looked, either. She had them beat in looks alone, sure, but Julie was also smart, witty, kind, down to earth, and had an awesome sense of humor. The way she moved, her cute little girlish voice, everything about her just drove Benny wild, and he would be spending an entire week with her. This was a fucking miracle. He wondered if he'd get to see her in a bikini. They would be camping on the Nueces River, after all, and there would no doubt be swimming at some point. God, he hoped she'd bring a bikini. One of the sexiest things about her was her soft, smooth tummy.

Her stomach was flat, but she was not a skinny girl. There was a healthy amount of meat on her, and although she was very athletic, her muscle definition was hidden beneath her softness. Some guys were critical of that fact, but Benny thought they were crazy. He loved her soft physique.

That night he was too excited to sleep. He did manage to stroke his cock a record thirteen times, however. He figured it was a record he'd likely break after next week.

The day of the trip Benny was like a kid on Christmas, and Mark's old van couldn't get to Julie's house soon enough. Despite James' promise that the girls were in, and despite the fact that Brenda was already in the van, her bags stowed behind the seats, Benny kept telling himself Julie would say she couldn't go when they arrived to pick her up. There was just no way he was going to be sitting next to the hottest chick in the world for the next nine hours as they trekked across the country.

But she did not disappoint, bounding out the front door with a duffle bag over her shoulder, clad in white lowrise jeans and a frayed white denim vest that stopped just short of her waist and parted at the bottom, revealing her adorable belly button, a vertical slit in her soft pudgy flesh that reminded Benny of a coin slot. Her tiny feet were attired in white high tops, and she was as beautiful as ever. The duffle bag put a slight arc in her back so her vest rode high on her perky breasts, revealing several inches of her creamy belly, which couldn't help but catch Benny's eye.

Julie stashed her bag in the back with the rest of their luggage, called out, "What's up, bitches," to James and Mark in the front seats, then climbed into the back, behind Benny and next to Brenda. She gave Brenda a hug and offered a cheerful, "hey you," to Benny.

"Hey Julie, thanks for joining us," Benny answered, trying to sound cool but failing.

"Yeah, well, Brenda said she needed some back up against all you boys, and that's my sister from another mister right there. I couldn't leave her hanging."

Mark chimed in from the driver's seat, "James is the one that should be thanking her. You're not gonna get no ass outta this, Benito."

Brenda rolled her eyes and told Julie, "You see what I have to deal with?"

"How do you know Benny and I aren't gonna shack up?" Julie asked, her eyebrows raised provocatively. Benny's heart stopped dead in his chest.

"Really?" Benny and Mark asked almost in unison.

Julie giggled and pinched Benny's cheek. He almost fainted. "No silly. Not really."

"Dude, that's messed up," Mark told her. "You know the kid has a sick crush on you. Now you at least owe him second base, or flash your titties at him or somethin'. Fucking with him like that."

Benny felt all the blood in his body rush to his head, and stammered, "Nuh. Nah. No I don't. You don't have to flash your titties. I mean, you know, if... Mark, you're such a douche."

Julie was still looking at him with those mesmerizing blue eyes of hers, a playful smile on her soft lips, a lock of rich brown hair dangling over her right brow, and Benny was certain he was going to die. Then she giggled again and said, "I'm sorry, Benny, I was just fucking around, didn't mean to mess with your head," then to Mark, "We gonna get on the road or sit here bullshitting all day?"

"So no titties then?" Mark asked.

"Dude, don't make me kick your fucking ass before we even get out of the driveway," Julie answered, still smiling.

"Alright, alright," Mark conceded. "I tried, Benny." He threw it in reverse and backed onto the street.

Benny was still frozen with embarrassment. How was he supposed to talk to Julie now? Hell, how was he even supposed to look at her? But his dream girl seemed to sense his unease, and she somehow made it all better.

"So, Benny, you ever been fishing before?" she asked disarmingly, as if the previous conversation never took place. After some hesitation Benny met her hypnotic gaze and saw she was completely unconcerned about spending the next seven days with a weird creepy loser who may or may not be obsessed with her. There was nothing in her expressive, lively blue eyes but kindness and good cheer. Benny felt his admiration for her grow even stronger.

"A couple times, yeah," he answered, beginning to relax. Mark and James had started their own conversation in the front seat. "There's nothing to it really, you just put the bait on the hook and throw it in the water. It's more of an excuse to drink beer while telling yourself you're doing something active". Benny added air quotations for the word active, and Julie giggled sweetly.

Brenda smiled and added, "Well, we already got an excuse to drink beer. It's our last summer together. We're gonna get fucked up."

"Bitch, it better not be our last summer together. If you don't stay in touch I will track your ass down and fucking cut you," Julie told her.

"Yeah, okay, maybe, but you know what I mean. It won't be the same, like it is now, with all of us still living at home and stuff. And college changes people."

"It might change your bitch ass, but I'm gonna be a bad ass motherfucker for life," Julie retorted, and her and Brenda both laughed at that. That was how their road trip began, and as the highway peeled away beneath them, Benny was able to loosen up and truly enjoy the company of his companions.

They were three hundred miles down the road and just outside of Sanderson, Texas when they fired up the first blunt.

"Would you let someone shoot you in the stomach for a million dollars?" Julie asked. They had been discussing inflation, and how a million dollars no longer held the same prestige it once did, when Julie decided to pop that one on them.

"Hold the fuck up," Mark announced suddenly. "Before we get into one of those debates... it's time to get lit," He produced a re-rolled Swisher and a Zippo lighter from seemingly thin air, and proceeded to spark up.

"You're lighting that shit while you're driving down the highway?" Julie asked him.

"Girl, I give no fucks," he called back in between drags.

"Yeah, well, just don't kill us," Julie answered. "I have a few more fucks I'd like to give."

Mark just laughed at that and passed the blunt to James. He took his hits and handed it to Benny, who hit it and passed it to Julie. Julie said she didn't smoke, but Brenda egged her on. "Come on, Jules, give it a try. You'll like it."

Julie still balked, but when Mark called out, "Yeah, don't be a pussy, Julie, it's just weed. Cigarettes are more dangerous than that shit," she narrowed her eyes and took a drag. They all watched as she blew out a cloud of smoke, then went back for another puff, but Benny thought he was the only one who noticed the way her lush lips curved as they pursed on the tail end of the blunt, or the way she licked them when she was done, leaving them slightly moist and glistening.

The blunt was passed to Brenda, who happily took her turn, and then it rotated back to Mark. It took them nearly ten minutes to finish the thing off, and then they circled back to Julie's question.

"I'd let someone shoot me in the stomach for a million bucks," Mark boasted.

"Bullshit," Julie told him. "You wouldn't be able to deal with the pain. You'd fucking cry like a bitch."

"Maybe, but I'd still do it. Fuck it. Cry like a bitch but I'd be a rich bitch. Would you do it?"

Julie appeared to consider it for just a second, but then quickly shook her head. "I read somewhere that gunshot wounds to the abdomen are fatal like twenty-something percent of the time. That's like a one in four chance of dying, and a million bucks isn't worth shit if you're dead."

"I'd do it," Brenda said. "I'm an optimist. Seventy-five percent chance of survival, I like those odds."

"You're fucking nuts," Julie said. "What if you had to get on a plane, and there were four planes, and I told you one of them is going to explode in mid-air?" Brenda didn't reply.

"What if it was a billion dollars?" Mark asked.

Julie smiled but still shook her head, and Benny noted the way her hair brushed over her bare shoulders when she did it. "I like being alive too much, I guess. Not worth the risk."

"Hold on, you didn't say what we're being shot with. A twenty-two, a pellet gun, a fucking air soft rifle," James chimed in. "Hell, what if it's an arrow with a target tip. That wouldn't mess you up too bad. But if it's a hollow point or large caliber round, forget about it. Count me out for that shit."

"Man makes a good point," Mark confessed. "A hollow point just goes into your guts and expands, tearing everything to shreds. That shit would fuck you up." Julie grimaced and put a hand over her tummy. "The type of round makes a huge difference."

"And how close is medical attention?" Benny added, trying to capitalize on James' clever line of thought. "Are EMT's standing by? Am I in a hospital when I'm shot?"

"I like where your head is at," Julie said with a beaming smile. Benny was just beginning to feel proud of himself when she added, "It's blocking the sun," and then she burst into laughter, and Benny couldn't help but grin. It was exactly the type of quirky sense of humor he found so endearing in her. "Alright, alright, wise asses, new question," she continued. "Would you agree to go into solitary confinement for ten years for a million dollars? And before everybody starts getting smart, no internet access, no books, no TV, no outside interaction at all, just you in an empty room for ten years."

"Ok, anybody that says yes to that just isn't thinking clearly," Mark told them. "You'd literally have nothing to do but jerk off all day, and that'd get old after a day or two. Then what're you gonna do the other three thousand six hundred and forty-nine days?"

"Look at Mark, with the math skills," Benny said, impressed.

"It's not skill you 'tard, three hundred and sixty-five times ten. All you do is add a fucking zero," Mark told him.

"Except there'd be at least two leap years," Julie said. "Maybe three depending on when you went in. So if you jerked off all day the first day, you'd have at least three thousand six hundred and fifty-one days left." Julie stuck out her tongue, and Benny felt faint with lust. "Who's the wise ass now?"

"Whatever," Mark said, "it's a fucking eternity. It might as well be ten million billion bajillion days. It'd sure as fuck feel like it. You'd go insane."

"I might do it," Brenda said.

"You're outta your mind," Mark told her.

"Okay, five years," Julie said. "I might do five years. When I get out I'd still be twenty-three, and I could just travel the world and have fun. I wouldn't have to work some shit job."

"Nah, you'd be wrecked. Your mind would turn to mush in there," Mark protested. "Have you read The Jaunt?"

"The who?" Julie asked.

"The Jaunt," Mark repeated.

"The fuck is that?" Brenda asked.

"It's a story by Stephen King. People figure out how to teleport but there's a catch - the trip is instantaneous for your body, but for your mind it seems to take forever. So they have to put you to sleep before you do it, but this kid thinks it'd be cool to experience eternity, so he doesn't inhale the sleeping gas and just pretends he's asleep. He comes out the other side a raving lunatic and claws his eyes out."

"Whoa, fucking spoiler alert, dickhead," James cried out.

"Bitch, you weren't gonna read the fucking story. Shut the fuck up," Mark said, before continuing, "The point is, you spend too much time in your own head, you fucking lose it."

Julie looked thoughtful. "I wonder if people go crazy in Heaven. I mean it's basically just your consciousness for eternity, right?"

"Dude, don't get me started on Heaven. It's such a crock of shit," Mark said. "There's no fucking way. Imagine the thing you love the most. Imagine doing that shit a zillion fucking times and a zillion more times, would you still like doing it? And that wouldn't even be the beginning. I mean forever is fucking forever. Besides, you don't get to do the shit you like the most according to the Bible. You can't flick your bean or play Grand Theft Auto or watch fucking Game of Thrones. All you fucking do is praise God. If there's a Heaven everybody's going fucking insane with boredom, believe me."

"But what if we don't see time the same way we do when we die?" Julie asked.

"Bullshit cop out. Time is part of our universe, part of our stream of consciousness. If we didn't perceive time, we wouldn't be who we are, so if there's some other plane of existence where time doesn't matter or exist, and somehow our life force or some shit crosses over, whatever ends up inhabiting that place, it's not us."

"I'm not saying it doesn't exist, just that it's different when you're dead. Like maybe you don't notice it passing? Or you experience all moments at once?"

"Not sure what the fuck that even means, but that doesn't sound like time to me, and you're still changing a fundamental part of our conscious thought, so again, whatever is experiencing this Heaven bullshit, it's not us."

Julie looked concerned. "Well, if there's no Heaven, that's just another reason not to get shot in the stomach," she said, and something about the way she glanced at her tummy and pressed her hands against it right then just drove Benny mad.

"I don't think you'd go to Heaven anyway if you die gambling with your life, trying to win a million dollars," Brenda told her.

"What if you have a family member with cancer, and you're giving the million dollars to them for medical bills? Or you're donating it to charity?" Julie asked her.

"Well, okay, maybe," Brenda conceded, "but who the fuck would do that?"

Julie cackled. "Well not you, obviously, you evil bitch. But seriously, that's like a totally new question. Let's say there is no Heaven, but you're able to save the world by sacrificing your life. Like Bruce Willis in Armageddon. Would you do it?"

"Well, if you don't, you die anyway, right? I mean if you don't save the world, and the world ends, either way you're fucked. Might as well die saving everyone," Benny pointed out.

"Fuck. Alright, well let's say you can end world hunger and create lasting peace on Earth, but you hafta die."

"I would," Benny said, not sure if he really would but he figured it was the answer Julie would want to hear.

"Would you?" Julie asked.

"How selfish would you have to be not to? Every time someone died of starvation or fighting, it would be your fault. They'd be dead because you're alive. Imagine the guilt." Benny pled his case.

"Yeah, but you'd be alive. What's worse, living with constant guilt or not living at all? Like what good is world peace if as far as you're concerned there is no world? You sacrifice yourself and there's nothing left for you. How do you reconcile that?"

Benny shrugged. "So you wouldn't do it?"

"I'm not saying that," Julie answered, "It'd just be hard. I'd like to think I would, cuz I'd be a terrible person if I didn't, but it wouldn't be that easy. Like it's more than just doing the math. What if we changed the math, though? What if it was three people you had never met on the other side of the world, but if you gave up your life you would save theirs. Would you do it?"

"Jesus, Julie, why are you so philosophical and shit all of a sudden?" Mark butted in.

Julie laughed. "I'm fucking high, asshole. Remember that blunt you passed around and told me to hit?"

"Yeah, bitch, I hit that shit every damn day but it doesn't turn me into a morbid fucking wanna-be Socrates."

"Well maybe I'm just more intellectual than you."

"Fucking buzz kill is what you are. All this talk about dying," Mark retorted.

"You're the one that started talking about death," Julie said, "talking about how there's no Heaven."

"Bullshit," James told her, "you brought that shit up, remember? Asking if you can go insane in Heaven. I was just answering your fucked up question."

Julie's beautiful cheeks flushed red and she was at a loss for words. Benny didn't think he had ever seen her flustered before, but it was a good look for her. It brought so much color to her face. "Yeah, well, maybe I did," she finally managed. "I'm just trying to keep the conversation interesting. Fucking dick."

"I got a fucking dick for you," Mark told her.

"Bring it back here and I'll chop it off and you can find out if there's a fucking Heaven, puto!" Julie seemed to have regained her cool, however, because although her words were vitriolic, her perfect lips hinted at a smile and her usual joviality had returned to her voice. When James began to laugh they were all able to join in.

Seeing the buildings sprawled on the horizon, Benny decided it was time for a new topic and asked, "What town is that we're coming up on?"

"Sanderson," Mark told them. "If anybody's gotta take a piss, this'll be the time. I gotta stop for gas."

"Yes, mother," Julie answered.

"Damn, Julie, you came on this trip just to break my fucking balls, didn't you?"

Julie met Mark's gaze in the rear view mirror and blew him a kiss, then giggled sweetly.

Benny wanted to melt when she puckered her lips, and his heart sang out when she laughed, her shocking blue eyes dancing with merriment. "Julie's a fucking savage," he said awkwardly. He thought it would be a witty comment, but it fell flat and he was the only one who laughed. He looked to Julie for approval, but she looked back with bemusement, then she giggled out of pity and tussled his hair.

"Oh, Benny," she sighed.

"Well, I can't wait," Brenda said unabashedly. "I've been holding it since Van Horn, and I feel like I'm about to burst."

"Whoa, TMI," James said.

"Oh shut the fuck up, asshole," Brenda said, not without affection. "It's not like you didn't know I piss. It's basic biology and shit."

"Yeah, well, I didn't need that mental image."

"Then don't picture it."

"Too late, I've already imagined you taking a whizz. Next time you try to seduce me all I'll be able to think about is a bunch of urine spraying out of your vagina."

Julie and Brenda both laughed at that, before Brenda finally told him, "Urine doesn't come out of my vagina, doofus. And don't say TMI. It's not my fault if you don't understand the female anatomy."

"Yeah, whatever, your pee-hole then," James said, smiling good-naturedly, "and I understand enough about the female anatomy to make you scream, mamacita."

"James!" Brenda cried, blushing brightly.

"Yeah, that's what she said," Benny joked, and laughed alone again.

"Dude, what the fuck?" Mark asked.

"I mean that's what James makes her scream," Benny clarified, and floundering, he tried to save the joke by mocking Brenda and screaming, "James!"

"Dude, just fucking stop," Mark said, but at least he was chuckling now.

Brenda punched Benny in the arm, and Julie suddenly broke into an uncontrollable bout of laughter for no apparent reason. Benny wanted to believe she was laughing at his joke, but he could see that she was high as a kite and going on a trip. Either way it warmed his heart to see her so giddy. "What's so funny?" he asked, but she was laughing too hard to reply. It was infectious, and soon Brenda and Benny joined in.

"I think they've lost their minds back there," James told Mark, and that just made the three of them laugh even harder. They were still laughing when they entered Sanderson's city limits.

It was little more than a wide space in the road. They had traveled nearly halfway through town in the space of about fifty seconds when they came to what may well have been the only gas station in a sixty mile radius, with a sign that proudly announced the cheapest gas in town. Except they were missing the "g", so when Julie, who had stopped laughing long enough to regain the power of speech, read it aloud, she read, "The cheapest ass in town. No wonder you wanted to stop here, Mark, now you can finally get laid." This sent her into another fit of laughter, and again Brenda and Benny joined her.

"I don't know what you motherfuckers are laughing at. Everybody knows you and Benny are the only virgins in this van," Mark retorted, before getting out to pump gas.

Julie didn't appear the least bit affected by Mark's scathing retort, but she was a virgin by choice. Every guy in school had practically thrown themselves at her, and she somehow stayed single. Benny just didn't seem to have much to offer the fairer sex, but he still appreciated being lumped in with Julie. It was nice to think they might somehow lose their virginity together, no matter how far fetched that idea might be.

Brenda climbed over Julie and staggered from the van, clutching herself. "Oooo, you're gonna make me piss my pants, Julie, you bitch," she complained, laughing like a loon. With that she headed for the convenience store.

James hopped from the passenger seat and said something about needing a drink, leaving Benny and Julie alone in the van. "You don't need to piss?" Benny asked.

Julie's laughter was tapering off to a few sporadic giggles, and she shook her head.

"Yeah, me neither. I got an iron bladder," Benny said.

Julie raised her eyebrows. "What about rust?"

Benny was puzzled for a moment, then he understood. "Uh, yeah, I have to drink a quart of oil once a month." Julie guffawed loudly at that, much to Benny's delight.


"So is it true? You're really a virgin?"

"Yup," Julie said, unflinching.

"Why? I mean, do you think you won't like sex?"

"I dunno, I guess it's just too much drama, you know? Like who needs it. And there's the religious thing, but now Mark's got me questioning that. Why are you a virgin?"

It stung a little that she didn't even have to ask if he really was one, and he wondered if she was just trolling him. It should have been obvious why he was a virgin. He gestured to himself and gave her a look that said,[i] really?[i]

"What? You're not bad looking. You're telling me you can't get anyone to shack up with you?"

"Julie, I know you're a really nice person, but come on. Be real. I'm short, I'm chubby, my nose is too big, my teeth are crooked, and I have no game."

"See, that's your problem."

"Yeah, that's my problem."

"No, silly, I mean you're too insecure. Insecurity is unattractive. All that other shit only matters if you think it matters."

"Yeah, whatever. That's easy for you to say. You're perfect. I mean look at you." Benny realized he was making Julie uncomfortable, so he retreated a little. "Sorry, it's just, you know, it's different for you. You don't know what it's like."

"Maybe," Julie smiled and squeezed Benny's shoulder, "but try not to be so hard on yourself. Besides, being a virgin isn't so bad. Who needs sex, anyway? We got our hands." She winked and giggled, and Benny's cock nearly exploded.

"Yeah, we do," he said awkwardly.

"Aha, so you admit you jack off! Who do you spank it to?"

Benny's tongue went dead in his throat, all the blood rushed to his head, and he had never been so terrified. What was he supposed to say to that? At least ninety-nine percent of his fantasies involved Julie, and he couldn't remember the last time he had masturbated to anyone other than the spectacularly beautiful bubbly brunette sitting across from him.

He was still trying to come up with a name when Julie cackled gleefully and slapped her thigh. "Relax, I'm fucking with you, Benny." Cracking up, she said, "Holy shit, you should have seen your face. You went red as a tomato."

Benny laughed nervously. "Fuck you. That was fucked up."

When Julie was able to get her laughter under control, she looked genuinely contrite. "Aww, I'm sorry. That was pretty fucked up," she conceded.

"What was pretty fucked up?" Brenda asked, returning to her seat.

"I was asking Benny who he thinks about when he chokes his chicken."

"Why is that fucked up?"

"Because he thinks about Julie, dumbass." It was Mark now, climbing into the drivers' seat.

"God damn it, Mark, what the fuck?" Benny complained.

"What? It's true. No sense denying it. The truth will set you free," Mark said sanctimoniously.

"What about you?" Julie asked Mark. "Who do you think about?"

"I'm like a fucking monk," Mark answered. "I'm clean. When I'm not getting laid, that is."

"The truth will set you free, my ass," Julie sneered.

"And you?" Mark asked. "Who's your muse, Miss Perfect?"

Julie smiled and blushed a little before replying, "A lady never tells."

"Get the fuck outta here with that shit. You ain't no fuckin' lady," Mark called back.

"Alright you bitches, who wants a beer?" James had now returned, and he held up a case of Bud Light.

"My man," Mark said, and offered James a fist bump before accepting a brew.

When James turned and tossed a can into the back seats, Julie snatched it from the air with surprising deftness, then handed it to Brenda and raised her hand to call for another. She caught the second with equal ease, and popped the top and took a swig.

"Julie, you're the coolest," Benny said, before turning to James and accepting a beer of his own.

"Julie?" James asked, feigning offense. "What the fuck, I'm the one who brought you the beer!"

Benny laughed. "Alright, you're pretty cool too."

"You just don't have a pair of knockers," Mark told him.

"Whatever. Julie's tits aren't even that big," Benny blurted out, immediately regretting it.

"Oooohhh, burn!" Mark shouted.

Julie, to her credit, was completely unfazed. "I thought you said I was perfect," she quipped, a half smile on her lips and an eyebrow raised.

"You are," Benny blabbed. "I mean, you're well proportioned." And you have an amazing ass, he nearly finished, but he bit his tongue.

"Good save," Julie said with a giggle.

"Benny, you just need to stop talking," Mark advised. He put the van in gear and pulled out of the parking lot. "And we're off," he called, and raised his beer in a toast.

"To being young, dumb, and full of cum," James added, and raised his own beverage.

"To being well proportioned," Julie said.

"To beer and weed," Benny toasted.

"To lifelong friendships," Brenda finished.

They sipped their beers in relative silence for a few minutes, and once they were well outside of town, Mark cranked up the volume on the radio as Pink Floyd's Comfortably Numb started to play. "It's time for round two," he called out, and he produced another blunt like a magician. They resumed their previous rotation, only this time no one needed to coax Julie into taking her turn. Each of them smoked without speaking, enraptured by the unique sounds of what many consider to be rock's greatest artists.

The blunt was over halfway gone and had returned to Mark's possession when the song ended. He was fiddling with his phone, looking for more music to maintain the ambience while holding the burning Swisher with his other hand. He held the wheel steady with an elbow, and just saw the dead buck in the road before running right over the top of it. Both his phone and the blunt went flying as Mark struggled to correct the fishtail they were suddenly in and regain control of his van. After a bad moment, where it seemed they were about to roll, he succeeded.

"Goddammit!" Julie shouted. "You almost killed us, you fucking asshole!"

"There was a motherfucking deer in the road," Mark said defensively.

"Dude, the blunt," James cried.

Brenda burst into laughter. "I nearly shit myself and James is up there worried about the blunt," she said.

"Fucking priorities," James told them.

"Pull the fuck over before you go looking for that shit, please," Julie insisted.

"Aye aye, captain," Mark agreed.

As the van slowed and moved onto the shoulder, Benny spared a glance at his crotch to make sure he hadn't wet himself. His heart rate was through the roof, and it was all he could do to keep his composure. He wasn't even entirely confident he hadn't screamed like a little girl when they went over the animal carcass.

Julie chortled and asked, "You worried that iron bladder failed you?"

Benny looked at her like she was a wizard, and found himself speechless. How did she know that's why I looked down? he wondered.

"Relax," she said. "We all probably pissed our pants a little bit."

"Speak for yourself," James told her. "I'm chillin. Just wanna get back to hitting that blunt."

"Yeah, right, you're such a badass," Julie said sarcastically.

The van had rolled to a stop, and James was focused on finding the smoke. "There," he told Mark, pointing. Mark reached between the seat and the side panel and after a brief struggle came back up with their stogie. He gave it a quick puff before handing it to James.

"Alright," Mark told them, "now we can resume our fantastic voyage," and he piloted the van back onto the highway.

It wasn't until 3:30 in the afternoon, a little over two hours after hitting the deer, that the engine died. They were about thirty miles from Camp Wood and their intended destination, on a sparsely traveled Ranch to Market road.

"What are you doing? Why are you stopping?" James asked.

"I'm not. We're fucking breaking down," Mark answered.

"Are you serious?" Benny asked, his heart sinking.

"Shut the fuck up. Don't even play with that shit," Julie added.

"I'm not playing, I'm dead fucking serious."

"Unbelievable, we're like forty-five minutes from the camp grounds," Julie complained.

"We were forty-five minutes from the camp grounds," Benny corrected. "Who knows when we'll get there now," he said miserably. This was it. He had been so sure something would go wrong. He had known there was no way he would be able to spend a week with Julie. They would go home early - no camping or swimming in bikinis or drinking all night.

"What're we gonna do?" Brenda asked.

"Does anybody got a cell signal?" Mark asked.

"Jules and I left our phones at home," Brenda said.

"Yeah, we didn't want any distractions," Julie confirmed.

"Same," James told them.

Benny had brought his phone, because he wanted to snap a bunch of pictures of Julie, but when he pulled it from his pocket and looked at it he saw zero bars. "I got nothing," he said.

Mark glanced at his own phone, then asked, "Does anybody know anything about fixing cars?"

"Do I look like a fuckng mechanic to you?" Brenda responded. They all exchanged looks after that, but nobody offered any help.

"Well, I guess we're walking back to Del Rio," Mark decided.

"We my ass," Brenda said. "It's your van, and this is probably because you ran over that fucking deer when you weren't paying attention. You walk your ass back. We'll wait here with the beer."

"Babe, we might not find anybody to come work on it today," James said.

"You want me to walk forty miles down the road, because this asshole doesn't know how to drive?" Brenda asked.

"Relax," Mark said. "It's just until we get a signal, or we might even hitch a ride."

"What happens when you get a signal? Who the fuck are you gonna call? And if you think I'm getting in some stranger's car, you're crazy," Brenda said.

Mark looked at James, and James only shrugged. "Let her stay with the van. My .357 is loaded and under my seat, and she knows how to shoot. Besides, somebody should stay and make sure we don't get jacked anyway."

"Alright, fine, stay here and get fucked up," Mark conceded. He looked at Julie and Benny and asked, "You two love birds coming?"

Julie looked at Brenda apologetically and said, "I'm sorry sweetie, but I'm not down to sit in a van on the side of the road with a bunch of empty beer cans, a bag of weed, and a loaded pistol. If a trooper drives by that's a felony waiting to happen."

"Don't worry, gorgeous. I'll be fine," Brenda assured her.

"Wudduya say then, love bird?" Julie asked Benny with a smirk.

Benny knew it was sarcasm, but he felt a tingle when Julie called him 'love bird'. "Let's do it."

Julie and Benny climbed out and stretched for the first time in hours. First Julie pressed her palms against the small of her back and leaned backwards, then she held her hands high above her head, doing wonderful things with her white denim vest. Her breasts expanded and thrust forward, the fabric rising up and exposing the entirety of her of soft white belly, which was now pulled taut, stretching out her vertical slit of a navel. Benny couldn't help but stare, and he didn't even care that Julie caught him.

Mark and James vacated the front seats and evidently felt compelled to take at least a cursory glance under the hood. "Well?" Julie asked when they were done.

"It definitely looks like there's an engine in there," Mark said with a shrug, and Julie giggled at that. Benny found himself in love with her ability to laugh at their misfortune, her good cheer remaining stubbornly resilient.

Mark gave the key one last turn, and they could hear the engine cranking but never catching and running. Julie commented that, "It's a good sign. It means the battery and the starter are working, at least, so it's probably not electrical."

*continued in next post*


Julie's Road Trip *continued*

Benny wondered why that was a good thing, but he didn't want to sound ignorant so he held his tongue.

James went back to the van to talk to Brenda, and after a short, muffled conversation, he told them, "I'm gonna stay here with Brenda. Y'all go on ahead."

"Yeah, sure, why not?" Mark said, trying to sound aloof, but Benny could tell it bothered him more than he wanted to let on. His best friend chose the company of a girl over him.

"Bye, slut! Make sure you use a condom!" Julie smiled, waved, and blew her friend a kiss, in stark contrast to Mark's thinly veiled bitterness.

"Don't get murdered by a serial killer!" Brenda called back.

And with that, Julie, Benny, and Mark headed down the road. In fifteen minutes of walking, only two vehicles passed them. Mark stuck his thumb out both times, but neither of them so much as tapped the brakes. "Why don't you flash your titties at the next one?" Mark suggested to Julie.

"But my titties aren't even that big, remember?" she said teasingly, giving Benny a wink and melting his heart.

"That's true, but some guys prefer well proportioned to big," Mark countered.

"How about I just stick out my thumb and shake my ass a little," she compromised.

"Give it a shot," Mark agreed.

Nearly five minutes passed before a shiny red F350 came cruising toward them, and Julie did as promised. Her cute little thumb jutted out from her tiny fist and she arched her back, again flashing a bit more of that pale skin on her soft, perfect midriff, and very subtly pushing out her flawless, round buttocks, which she gave a glorious wiggle. Benny never even glanced at the truck; his attention was fixed solely on Julie, all the blood rushing to his pecker.

Her strategy seemed to work, as Benny noted when Julie broke her pose and started trotting along the shoulder. The F350 had pulled over. "Fucking score!" Benny shouted, his spirits lifted. Perhaps their trip could be salvaged after all.

In the cab of the truck was a young man with messy black hair, tanned skin, and sharp green eyes. He wore jeans and a tee shirt that said "kiss my ass". Beside him was a lovely blonde with dark blue eyes and pale skin, sporting cut-off jeans and a plain white tank top. They both looked to be in their early twenties and were exceedingly attractive.

"Y'all have some car trouble," the man asked them when they approached.

"My van broke down like a mile up the road," Mark answered.

"Let's go have a look," the man offered. "Hop in back."

The three teens happily complied, none of them suspecting any nefarious intentions. The man did not betray their naivety, taking them to the van and stopping to inspect it, as agreed upon. When they pulled up and exited the vehicle, the man introduced himself and his girlfriend. "I'm Jeremy, and this here's Beth."

Julie, Mark, and Benny all took turns shaking hands and stating their names, and James popped out of the van looking a little flustered. "You guys came back quick," he muttered.

"Hope we didn't interrupt anything," Mark said, sounding a little too satisfied with himself. "This is Jeremy. He's agreed to lend us a hand. Grab him a beer, will ya?"

James nodded and did as Mark asked. He didn't even seem to mind too much that his privacy had been disturbed. He appeared as encouraged as Benny was to have found help so quickly.

Jeremy popped the hood and asked Mark to crank the starter. The engine responded much as it had previously, and Jeremy just nodded and laid down on the pavement to look at the undercarriage. Whistling, he said, "Holy hell, if I didn't know any better I'd say you hit a deer."

"We sorta did," Mark told him. When Jeremy stood up and looked quizzically at the mostly unblemished bumper and radiator, Mark clarified, "Well it was already dead, we just sorta ran over it."

Jeremy nodded again. "Well your fuel line's busted. I got some tubing back home that'd likely do the trick." He took a swig of beer, then asked, "Y'all like to party?"

"Fucking A right we do," Mark confirmed. "You wanna smoke a blunt?"

"I guess I probably do. Why don't y'all hop in and I'll take y'all back to the ranch. It's about a forty-five minute ride. We'll have some drinks, smoke some bud, snort some coke, then I'll bring y'all back here and fix you up."

Mark was beaming, as if he'd found his soulmate. "Now you're speaking my language," he said.

Julie flashed an easy smile and agreed readily enough, "Sure, why not?"

James looked torn, but he ultimately chose pussy over drugs, deciding, "You all go on, I'll wait here with Brenda." Mark no longer seemed to care, nodding absent-mindedly.

Benny was going wherever Julie was, so he quickly confirmed, "I'm in."

They once again loaded into Jeremy's pickup, but this time they all sat in the cab, with Beth riding shotgun and the three teens filing into the back seat. "So where y'all headed?" Jeremy asked as they drove away.

"Nueces River," Mark answered.

"It's our last summer before everybody goes off to college, so we're taking a road trip," Benny added.

"So y'all are all eighteen?" Jeremy asked, eyeballing them in the mirror, and Benny saw something familiar in the way he looked at Julie.

"Yeah, old enough to vote and to get shipped overseas to die a horrible death, fighting so that rich people can get richer," Julie said with ironic cheerfulness.

"But not old enough to have a sip of alcohol," Mark said resentfully.

And old enough to fuck twenty-something-year-old guys, Benny thought.

Perhaps Beth also picked up on the way Jeremy was eyeing Julie, or maybe she just hated liberals, but she spoke up in an icy tone, "Our troops are fighting for our freedom. Don't believe any of that bullshit leftist propaganda you see all over the media."

Julie's cheeks reddened, and for a moment Benny thought she was going to sass back, but she held her tongue long enough for Jeremy to say, "Beth's brother is in the military. Marine Corps."

"I'm sorry," Julie said grudgingly. Benny supposed it was out of respect for Jeremy, who was doing them all a huge favor. "I meant no offense."

Jeremy flashed a wide smile oozing with Southern charm, and told her, "Now that's exactly the type of bipartisan olive branch extending this country needs."

"Well I got a fucking olive branch for your ass," Mark said, and produced a blunt and his trusty zippo. "You mind if I smoke in here?"

"Light it up," Jeremy told him, and so he did.

He passed it to Jeremy first, and Julie couldn't help herself. "Just make sure you don't run over any deer, okay?"

Jeremy was unvexed, and he simply smiled his easy, charming smile and replied, "Yes ma'am," before putting the blunt in his mouth and inhaling.

They didn't hit any deer, and the conversation continued cordially enough until they arrived at the ranch house almost exactly forty-five minutes later, as Jeremy had promised. It was a beautiful piece of property, with a sprawling yard and a generous two-story Victorian style home. An elevated deck with a porch swing and a shade stretched out towards the car park.

"This is your place?" Mark asked, sounding impressed.

"It will be. Eventually. It's my parents', but I help out a lot on the ranch. Earn my keep. They're actually on vacation right now. Just like y'all. It's the season, I reckon."

"Yeah, I reckon," Mark grinned.

"Come on," Jeremy told them, and led the group into the house. They congregated in the living room, a spacious area with two couches and two recliners aimed at an eighty inch TV mounted on the South wall. Where the North wall would have been, instead there was a bar fully stocked with dozens of spirits, wines, liquors and liqueurs, as well as tumblers and shot glasses stacked high. Beyond that was the kitchen. Beth and Julie sat down on separate couches, and Benny sat next to Julie, of course.

Mark followed Jeremy to the bar where they poured five shots of tequila. "Bottoms up, bitches," he shouted, helping Jeremy carry the drinks back to the rest of their party.

Julie knocked hers back without hesitation, then grimaced and swiped at her lips with the back of her hand. Beth looked at her like it was a challenge, then followed suit. Mark gave an enthusiastic, "Yeah!" and downed his shot alongside Jeremy. Only Benny hesitated, taking a whiff of the stuff and feeling his stomach turn, but he didn't want to seem weak in front of Julie, so after a few beats he slammed his back too, immediately regretting it.

It felt as if his entire esophagus was suddenly coated with warm syrup and it was all he could do to not immediately upchuck, but nobody else seemed to be struggling as he was, so he pretended nothing was amiss. A conversation started about a liquor store in Del Rio, and how much this particular bottle had set Jeremy back, but Benny could barely follow. He was too focused on not losing his lunch, and he was becoming convinced it was a fight he would lose when Jeremy offered him a beer.

Benny waved it away, and rising to his feet, he managed, "Where's the bathroom?" Unaware of the urgency of the situation, Jeremy calmly pointed to a hallway and instructed Benny to take the third door on the left. Benny was off before he finished.

For a bad moment he thought he wouldn't make it, his gorge rising while he was still hurrying down the hall, and as he pushed through a partially closed door he wondered what would happen if this was the wrong room. Luckily it was not, and he kicked the door shut behind him and lifted the toilet seat, narrowly avoiding spraying it with puke. He was thankful that the retching was not too loud - it meant there was hope he might be able return to the living room without everyone knowing he tossed his cookies. There wasn't any mouth wash in the medicine cabinet, so he had to settle for toothpaste and water, and when it felt he had everything under control he made his way back down the hall.

When he returned he found Julie hunched over the coffee table, snorting coke through a rolled up dollar bill. Her perfect, juicy, round ass was to him, and he was still staring at it when she stood up and smiled, "I guess today is my day for losing faith in God and experimenting with illegal drugs."

Beth appeared angered by this announcement, and Jeremy looked alarmed, but Mark simply cheered. "Whoa, whoa," Jeremy said, holding up his hands in a halting gesture. "You don't have to give up your faith just to have a good time now and then."

"Yeah, Jesus saves," Beth said admonishingly, "He'll never give up on you, you shouldn't give up on him."

Julie giggled loudly before realizing they were serious. "But doesn't the bible condemn drunkards?" she asked, her eyes wide and shining.

"It condemns vices," Jeremy said. "If you let drugs and alcohol control your life, you've lost God and you're worshipping false idols, but if you just partake when it's time to relax, there ain't nothin' wrong with that."

"The bible condemns all sorts of shit, and then in the next chapter it endorses the shit it just condemned. It's all bullshit," Mark told them. "No disrespect."

"None taken," Jeremy assured him. "We're open to all viewpoints. A good theological discussion is always healthy, but first," he looked at Benny. "You want a bump?"

Benny feared another bout of vomiting, so he declined as politely as possible, "No thanks."

Jeremy nodded and then declared, "Another round of shots!"

"I'll sit this one out, I'm pacing myself," Benny said quickly.

"Suit yourself," Jeremy agreed, then he collected their shot glasses and went back to the bar. "So what verses do you think are contradicting?" he asked Mark as he poured.

"Thou shalt not kill, render unto Caesar, honor thy mother and father, for starters. There's all sorts of shit in the bible that runs contrary to those rules," Mark answered.

"I think the Good Book is more nuanced than you give it credit for, sir," Jeremy replied, carrying four freshly filled shot glasses back to the coffee table. "Some stories are parables, we take lessons from each of them, and it speaks to us in different ways. You can't take everything in it at face value."

"Yeah, well it's pretty worthless as a set of instructions for life then, isn't it?" Mark swallowed his shot alongside Jeremy, and the girls followed right behind them, before Mark continued, "Why is this God of yours so difficult to understand, if what he wants from us is so damned important? I mean if what hangs in the balance is either an eternity of paradise, which is a paradox in itself, or an eternity of suffering, you'd think the rules ought to be pretty damned clear, dontcha think?"

"Yeah, well, there's a fine line between guiding us to the light and removing our free will," Jeremy countered.

"Free will," Mark scoffed. "No such thing."

"What's your take on all this?" Jeremy asked Julie, who had been listening intently.

"I dunno. I mean it is kinda confusing. If God was fair, it seems He'd make things a little more clear, you know, and Mark made a good point about the afterlife earlier, so I kinda think that maybe there's a god, maybe, because how did all this shit get here, but it doesn't give a shit about us. And it's kind of liberating to think that, you know? Like don't get me wrong, it's scary to think that when we die that's it, forever, you know, like there's no coming back. There's nothing ever ever again. Like, shit. But at the same time, I feel like a weight's been lifted, because now I can stop trying to be perfect and just enjoy myself. I feel like I'm gonna have a lot more fun on this trip now, you know? I'm rambling, aren't I? I think it's the coke."

"Yeah, it's the coke," Jeremy assured her, "but no worries. You're young. You've got time to figure it out, but at least you got part of the truth - how does all this exist if not for God? An even better question is why. Why does it exist? Why are we here?"

Mark scoffed. "Religion likes to pretend it has the answers to why, or how, but God is a non answer. Why did God create us? How did God come to exist? You pursue either of those questions far enough and you'll get some dodgy, shifty shit like, 'no one knows the mind of God,' or, 'the Lord works in mysterious ways'. Truth is there's a lotta shit we don't know, and goddidit is just a cop out."

"Sounds to me like you're just pissed at God," Beth said. "What happened to you?"

Mark busted up laughing. "Jesus Christ, woman. Are you listening? I mean I guess if God was real I'd be angry at Him, sure, because an almighty creator throwing us on this fucked up rock just for shits and giggles would be a dick move, but THERE IS NO GOD."

"I'll pray for you," Beth said patronizingly. "You need to let go of your anger."

"That's some passive aggressive bullshit right there," Mark answered.

Benny sensed the rising tension and blurted out, "Welcome to every religious discussion on the internet, ever."

It seemed his attempts at humor had finally struck a cord, as everyone roared with laughter at that. Even Julie. Perhaps Julie most of all, and that warmed Benny's heart.

"Good call, Benny," Mark said, and then to Julie he added scornfully, "Why do you keep getting us into these religious discussions? Motherfucking buzz kill."

Julie smiled meekly, "I'm sorry. Good talk though, y'all," and she rubbed Mark's hair playfully. "I gotta go use that restroom now, if that's okay?"

Jeremy nodded hospitably, and Julie made her exit. Benny found himself wondering if he had left any chunks on the rim of the toilet bowl, and blasted himself for not lowering the seat when he left.

"I'm gonna go get that tubing, and we can be on our way," Jeremy told them, before exiting through a back door. Beth and Mark found different spots on the walls to examine, and the silence was palpable.

"So, Beth, you two married?" Benny asked, trying to break the ice.

"We're engaged," she replied amicably. "Been together since our senior year. Jeremy's a big softie, as you can tell."

"Yeah, he seems like a good guy," Benny agreed.

Meanwhile Mark muttered, "Living in sin," and this time it was Benny's turn to do the shushing.

"Mark, shut the fuck up."

Beth just looked at Mark with a scornful glare, but did not take the bait. Then she turned to Benny with a much softer gaze and asked, "Are you dating Julie?"

It was the second time that day it had been suggested he and Julie were a couple, and it played havoc on his sensibilities. If only, he thought wistfully, before answering, "No, we're just friends." And that was the dagger in the heart.

"Oh," Beth said simply. "Well it's probably for the best. I've seen the way you look at her, but she's an odd duck. I think you can do better. You seem like a nice boy."

"Thanks," Benny answered, not daring to take this conversation any further. A short time later both Julie and Jeremy returned, the latter carrying a roll of tubing and a toolbox.

"Let's hit the road, folks," Jeremy suggested, and they returned to his truck. When he inserted his key and gave it a turn, however, the truck did not respond. After a couple tries, he turned to the teens in the backseat with a concerned look, and Julie busted up laughing. Beth looked sorely irked as Julie struggled to control herself.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said, "I'm not laughing at you. I mean it sucks, your truck won't start, right? But I mean, come on, look at it from our point of view, it's pretty fucking funny. We broke down and hitched a ride with you so you could fix our van, and now you..." she laughed herself to tears before continuing, "You broke down too. You gotta fucking laugh." Mark and even Benny found it hard to share in her amusement this time, and Beth only continued to scowl, but Jeremy had enough good will to chuckle with her.

"Well, shit, I'm real sorry about this, y'all, let me have a look at 'er." They all waited in the cab, and he was only under the hood for twenty to thirty seconds before he slammed it shut, and the expression on his face was troubling. "Son-of-a-bitchin' cable's been cut. We been sabotaged." He looked around at the surrounding ranch, which was mostly flat land, but with enough mesquite brush and cacti to hide a prowler. "Y'all best get outta there. Let's go back in the house and call the cops."

They followed him wordlessly into the house, everyone on edge now, and when Jeremy lifted the handset to his cordless phone, his face went pale. "They cut the phones," he said flatly.

"You're fucking shittin' me," Beth told him.

"What the fuck?" Mark asked, visibly alarmed, and Benny felt his stomach knotting up.

"Alright, everybody cool it," Julie told them, her voice remarkably calm. "We're gonna be fine. Jeremy, you got any guns?"

Jeremy nodded, "A thirty-ought-six and a fourty-four mag."

"If somebody wanted to kill us, they would have done it when we stepped out that front door," Julie continued. "Hell, they had us all bottled up in Jeremy's truck and didn't do shit. They're just fucking with us. Probably want us to hide in here like bitches so they can wait until night and scare the shit out of us or something. So here's what we're gonna do," she looked around the room and saw that everyone was with her. She was setting their fears at ease. "We're gonna take Jeremy's guns and his tools and walk out the front door like we run this shit, and we're gonna walk back to the van, fix it up, and then we can take Jeremy and Beth to town so they can call someone."

"I think she has the right of it," Jeremy agreed, and he bounded off with determination, returning in under a minute with both guns and a couple boxes of ammo. He stashed the ammo in the toolbox and tossed in a bullet of cocaine for the road. "I'll take the rifle." Looking at the three teens he asked, "Do any of you shoot?" Mark raised his hand and stepped forward, and Jeremy handed him the pistol. They all exchanged glances before Jeremy finally said, "Let's go."

Jeremy and Mark led the way, taking the vanguard and sweeping the horizon for signs of a threat. For five minutes they moved forward in this manner, Mark and Jeremy with their guns at the ready, and all of them nervous wrecks. Benny kept expecting a bullet to come whizzing out of nowhere and shear off the top of his skull, but it didn't happen. In fact, nothing happened, and after ten minutes they all began to relax, suspecting Julie had been right all along - some bored teenagers had decided to play an elaborate prank, but backed down when they saw the guns.

Conversation eventually resumed, with Jeremy giving voice to this exact sentiment. "Damn, Julie, I guess you had it pegged. If it hadn't been for you we'd probably all still be back in the house, shakin' in our dang boots and wastin' daylight."

Julie smiled coyly and shrugged. "I'm just as relieved as you are. I was shitting bricks there for a minute." She was a wiz at accepting praise gracefully while remaining humble. After all, she'd had a ton of practice.

"Who do you think did that shit? Did you piss off any high schoolers recently?" Mark asked.

"Probably some little pervs that have a crush on me," Beth answered, and Jeremy seemed to mull it over and nodded in agreement.


"What a bunch of twats. Now it's gonna be way too late to set up camp tonight. Guess we're gonna be sleeping in the van," Mark whined.

Julie giggled, "Awww, is Marky Warky afraid of sleeping in the van?"

"Fuck you, slut," Mark snapped, but Julie laughed even harder.

"Could be worse, I reckon," Jeremy noted.

"How much longer do you think it'll take us to get to the van?" Benny asked.

"Two and a half hours, mayhaps," Jeremy answered, "if we keep up the pace."

"We should get there before sunset then," Mark commented. "How long will it take you to fix the fuel line?"

"Not long," Jeremy told them. "Anybody want another bump?" He took the bullet from his toolbox and gave it a snort. "All that excitement kinda killed my high."

Never one to turn down narcotics, Mark accepted the offer and took a sniff. "Wish you'd brought some of that tequila too."

Jeremy grinned and pulled a flask from the back pocket of his jeans. He took a swig and handed it to Mark, and Julie took a pull off it after him. Benny waved it away again, still not trusting himself to keep it down, and Beth was evidently no longer in the mood to party.

"Did you play football in high school?" Mark asked. "You're a big dude."

"Fullback and linebacker," Jeremy answered, and so they talked and walked for the next forty minutes, discussing high school and college and that awkward and scary transition they were in, kids trying to become adults, until they had almost completely forgotten about the scare back at the house.

The subject had happened upon rent and the cost of college courses, and Mark was telling Jeremy and Beth how lucky they were not having to deal with all that.

"Hold on," Beth said, seeming to take offense. "Jeremy works hard for his living. He earns his keep."

"And you?" Julie asked. "What do you do for a living? Keep Jeremy's bed warm at night?" Julie giggled, but as usual, Beth didn't join in her laughter.

"I'm a hair dresser in Del Rio," she answered icily.

"I mean that's respectable and all," Mark acknowledged, "but it's hardly setting the world on fire."

"Burn, from the guy who's gonna study English in college," Julie teased, still giggling.

"Point is you and Jeremy got this ranch gig all set up," Mark continued, ignoring Julie, "so you don't have to strike out on your own and..." He trailed off when he heard the gunshot.

Benny was watching Julie, something he did a lot of, so he saw the neat little hole appear in her denim vest, just above the frayed bottom and about a couple inches to the right of her navel, and he could have sworn he heard the sickening smack of the bullet hitting her flesh a split second before the report of the shot. He saw the expression on her face go from cheerful laughter to confusion to shock to horror in the space of a second, and he saw the first splash of bright red blood spurt from the hole and stain her perfectly white outfit.

"Aaaak!" Julie cried. While everyone else was looking around, trying to find the source of the shot, Julie was gawking at her wound, her right palm pressed against the hole in her gut, and Benny was gawking at her. When she looked up and exclaimed, "I've been shot," it spurned Benny into action.

He charged forward and tackled Julie, being careful to cushion the landing, and shouted, "Stay down." Mark and Beth were already on the ground, and Jeremy took a knee, still searching for any sign of the shooter. "What do you see?" Benny asked in a whisper, but Jeremy just shook his head.

"I can't see anything. How is she?"

Benny looked down at Julie, and she looked back up at him and called out, "I'm fucking shot, so not good."

"Can you move?" Jeremy asked.

Julie eyed Benny again. "If Benny gets off of me, I think I can."

"Do you want to head back to the ranch house?" Jeremy asked.

"The ranch house is a dead end," Julie peered at her gun shot wound again. "I need a hospital. We've gotta keep moving forward."

"Okay, everybody stay low, and let's move," Jeremy commanded, keeping his voice down.

"After you," Julie whispered to Benny, and he rolled off her.

"Thanks," she muttered, and she gingerly rolled onto her hands and knees, and after pressing her palm against her belly one last time, she began to crawl. They all began to crawl, and they kept it up for as long as they could manage.

It was Beth who finally broke cover, complaining, "I can't do this shit anymore." To her credit, they had covered more than three hundred yards without hearing or seeing anything, so she stood up. Jeremy stood up beside her, scanning the surrounding brush and coming up empty.

"We can probably walk from here, but stay alert," he said.

"Yeah, if you see a bullet, duck," Julie quipped, climbing miserably to her feet. She chuckled a little, but it clearly caused her a great deal of discomfort.

Mark and Benny got tentatively up on their haunches, scouting their surroundings as well, but Benny was quickly distracted by Julie. The hole in her gut was still leaking, and the bright red blood stood out in stark contrast to her white clothing and pale skin. Her right hand was mostly coated with the stuff, making it look like she wore a red glove, and he wondered if she'd be able to make it all the way to the van, and if she made it that far, would she manage to hold on long enough for medics to save her?

Noticing that everyone was looking at her, she lifted her top to show them the wound. "What do y'all think? Am I dying?" Benny thought the hole was relatively small, and her belly was still otherwise flawless, but it looked like a lot of blood to him.

"I heard that gun shot wounds to the abdomen are only fatal like twenty-something percent of the time," Mark told her, grinning.

"Thanks, asshole," she answered.

"Actually," Beth chimed in, "they're only fatal about twelve percent of the time in civilians. Although that's mostly due to a swift medical response."

"She's right," Jeremy agreed.

"Guys, please, I was being sarcastic. Now can we stop trying to figure out the odds of me dying and get our asses to the van?"

"Yes ma'am," Jeremy said, and they all continued down the road.

"Does it hurt?" Beth asked, looking at Julie with a squinched up nose.

"There's a hole in my belly, created by a burning hot chunk of lead, which is now buried deep inside my guts... Yeah, it fucking hurts."

Beth flinched, but didn't respond.

"It's crazy though, right, that you were talking about getting shot in the stomach earlier today and now you've been shot in the stomach," Mark commented.

"Yeah, crazy," Julie agreed unenthusiastically.

"You know what would be really crazy, is if it was an accidental shooting and Julie ends up suing and winning a lawsuit for a million dollars," Benny noted.

Julie smiled wanly at that. "You know, that might almost be enough for me to start believing in God again."

"Don't start with the religious shit again, Jules," Mark groaned.

"I feel like we're missing some context here," Jeremy said.

"Julie asked us earlier if we'd be willing to take a bullet in the belly for a million bucks," Benny clarified.

Jeremy raised his eyebrows, interested. "What'd you say?"

"I guess I said it depends. How close are the paramedics? What type of bullet is it? Stuff like that," Benny answered.

Jeremy nodded thoughtfully. "Makes sense, I reckon."

"I said fuck yeah, I'd do it," Mark spoke up. "But Julie said she wouldn't. She was pretty much the only one who said no, and now look at her."

"Yeah, look at me," Julie muttered.

"I think that's the first thing I agree with you on, Julie," Beth said.

Julie nodded, and acknowledged, "Even a broken clock is right twice a day."

"Cute," Beth said, "but are you the broken clock, or am I?"

Julie giggled briefly, then sighed and blew a stray lock of hair away from her cheek. "Don't make me fucking laugh, it hurts like a bitch."

"So who do you think shot Julie?" Benny asked. "Do you think it could be an accident? Like, do people do like, target practice or whatever out here?"

Jeremy shook his head. "Not normally, no, although it's possible it was an accident, I reckon."

"If they were taking target practice, they didn't get much practice in," Mark noted. "I only heard one shot, and it ended up in Julie's gut."

"I'm sure it was just some asshole," Beth said.

Julie snorted. "They probably shot me 'cause they have a crush on you, huh?"

Beth eyed Julie coolly. "Maybe it's not the shooter who's the asshole."

Julie smiled thinly. "Nice."

Before anyone got another word in, Benny heard that sickening sound of lead hitting flesh followed by the report of another gunshot, and Julie went rigid for a moment before reaching for her hind quarters. They all hit the deck again, and Benny quickly swiveled his head so he could see his dream girl. She appeared to be both laughing and crying as she dropped to the ground, writhing in pain, and after a few seconds she settled down a bit and joked, "How's that for some asshole, huh, Beth?" She was lying on her side and pointing at her butt, and Benny noted that her perfectly round right buttock had a hole in it. When nobody laughed she added, "Get it? 'Cause there's a hole? In my ass? No? Nothing?"

"Jesus, Julie," Benny murmured. He couldn't believe she was able to joke about this. She had to be in horrible pain and going out of her mind with terror, but she was as cool as a cucumber.

"I know, right? Tough crowd." They were all still staring at her, everyone's mouth agape, while she struggled back to her hands and knees and started crawling forward again. "You fuckers coming?"

The other four in the group exchanged glances, then they all fell in with Julie, all of them crawling again. This time they only crawled about thirty yards before Beth stood up, "I don't know why we're even crawling. We're not gonna crawl all the way to the highway, are we? Whoever's out there is clearly following along with us, taking potshots at us. We can crawl twenty feet or two thousand, that asshole's still gonna be waiting for us when we stand up again, and we either need to be able to return fire or just keep moving."

Julie stood up then, and she told Beth, "I told you, a broken clock is right twice a day. I guess you met your quota."

"You really make it hard to feel sorry for you," Beth said.

"What a shame," Julie lamented, "I don't know what I'll do without your pity." The rest of the group had risen to their feet, and they all continued walking down the road, and although Julie stepped gingerly with her right foot, she kept the pace. "So I guess accidental shooting is out, which means I don't think I'll be getting my million dollars."

"Yeah, at this point I'm just hoping to survive," Mark said, his eyes frantically darting around the surrounding brush and desert. "What we should've brought are fucking binoculars."

"That'd 've been useful," Jeremy agreed. "That's my fault. I should've thought o' that."

"Oh, babe, it's not your fault. You couldn't have known this would happen," Beth said soothingly.

"You at least thought enough to bring that flask," Julie commented. "Mind if I get another swig?"

"Be my guest," Jeremy said, and passed her the tequila. "You know, you might want another snort. I think the cocaine can numb the nerves even better than the liquor, and keep your motor going."

Julie nodded, "Sure, why the fuck not?" and took the snuff bullet from Jeremy and gave it a big sniff. Julie grunted and swiped at her nose with her left hand, which was still mostly clean of blood, and handed the two items back to Jeremy. "Thanks," she muttered.

"I never thought I'd be saying this, but maybe you shouldn't be drinking right now," Mark told her. "Liquor thins the blood, making it hard to clot."

For just a moment Benny saw the fear in Julie's eyes, and then her unimaginably strong will hardened them and she simply said, "Thanks for the tip. So who's next? You think whoever's out there's gonna shoot me again, or will it be one of you all?"

There were a few uneasy glances exchanged, followed by an awkward silence, before Beth finally spoke up. "Maybe this is God's wrath for your loss of faith. Maybe if you repent..."

"Oh shit, here we go," Julie said, with a roll of her incredible blue eyes.

"Your eternal soul is at stake," Beth warned.

"I don't know what that means, exactly," Julie countered. "I don't think I'm going to exist eternally, not anymore, and I'm not really sure I'd want to, but right now I wouldn't mind existing for at least another eighty or ninety years."

"Wait. Hold up," Mark interjected. "Are you saying God's out there hiding in the bushes, shooting a gun at Julie because she stopped believing in Him?"

Julie snorted laughter at that, then winced and clutched her tummy.

"Not God, but maybe a messenger of God," Beth clarified.

"Wouldn't it be easier for God to come down here and just tell us to believe?" Mark asked.

"That would impede with your free will, if your Creator commanded you to believe. He already sent Jeremy and I as messengers, and you refused us."

"But if He sent you, didn't that impede with your free will?" Mark asked. "And what about the free will of this 'messenger' out there shooting at us?"

"We chose to be His messengers. He did not command us."

"You fucking lost me," Mark said.

"Yeah, well, if God sent someone to shoot me because I'm having trouble understanding eternal life, that's pretty fucked up," Julie commented. "I'll tell you what though, if the next bullet makes its way into your pretty little ass, I'll fall to my knees and beg for forgiveness." Beth frowned at that, and Julie stuck her tongue out at her.

"Shhh, I think I see something," Jeremy whispered, staring intently into the distance. He raised his rifle, and Benny was hopeful. Their trip was surely ruined, and he wouldn't be seeing Julie in a bikini after all, but at this point he just wanted to be safe. They all did.

"Shoot him," Beth whispered harshly.

Julie giggled cutely. "Oh, now you wanna shoot the messenger?"

"It's a goddam coyote," Jeremy muttered in frustration, and they all let out a collective groan.

"Fuck!" Benny cried, a little more high pitched than he'd have liked.

"Don't worry, Benny, the coyote won't hurt you," Julie cooed. Everybody but Beth managed to chuckle at that, and then Julie caught her third bullet of the day. Same as when she was shot in the stomach, Benny was looking at her and saw it all unfold. He saw the hole appear above her left breast, he heard her grunt prettily, he saw the shocking red blood spill down the gentle swell of her bosom. He saw the momentary crack in her facade, the unbridled panic contorting her face before she regained her composure. Her perfect lips parted briefly and her baby blues opened wide, and Benny was sure in that moment Julie knew she was going to die out here. Then her cool confidence returned, and she calmly noted, "Oh, well, I guess that answers that question."

"What question?" Benny asked.

Julie looked him dead in the eye, and he was amazed at her tranquility. "Who's next, silly goose. It was me, of course. I guess I forgot to duck."

"Did anybody see the bastard?" Jeremy asked.

Mark and Beth shook their heads, and Benny was still staring at Julie. "Well?" Julie asked, as if she didn't already know Benny hadn't seen anything but her getting shot for the third time that day.

His tongue seemed to be glued to the roof of his mouth, but he finally managed, "No. I guess I missed him."

"Fucking wish he'd miss me," Julie added.

"Wait, how come we're so sure the shooter's a dude?" Mark asked.

"Well, statistically speaking, most killers are males," Beth said.

"Hold on," Julie spoke up. "He hasn't killed anyone yet, and I wanna keep it that way. Let's keep moving." And they did. There wasn't much conversation for the next few minutes, and Benny's eyes kept returning to Julie, even more so than normal. Her dogged determination was impressive, and he wondered if it would be enough. There would no doubt be another shot fired soon, and he felt certain the shooter would continue to target her. It was no accident that all three of the previous bullets were buried in her perfect flesh. He wondered if Julie understood this too, and if she did, how the hell was she coping with it?

"How are you holding up, Julie?" he asked.

She gave him a half smile and answered, "Just trying not to die, thanks, but do you think you could try spotting the guy who's trying to kill me instead of staring at me?" Even though she was reprimanding him, and she had every right to do so, she managed to sound kindly doing it.

Benny felt his cheeks flush brightly, and Mark cackled, "Busted!" Slapping Benny on the back, he added, "Go easy on him, Jules. This might be the last time he gets to look at you." Mark winked at Julie and she glared back at him.

"You're a fucking asshole," she spat, and Mark was still chuckling when she was shot for the fourth time. Once again Benny saw her take the bullet, but he didn't see the hole appear this time. Her back arched and she planted her left hand on her dorsal, pulling her vest up high and laying her midriff nearly entirely bare, and she squawked loudly before craning her neck around to get a look at her latest wound. "You've gotta be fucking shitting me!" she cried, as she examined the fresh hole near the middle of her back, just slightly left of center.

"Got ya again, did he?" Jeremy asked sympathetically.

"Yup. He sure did. Please tell me you see him," Julie answered.

Jeremy scanned the horizon carefully and shook his head. "He's a slippery bastard."

"Fucking fuck. Well, keep looking," Julie said miserably, and she straightened her posture and continued walking as if nothing had happened.

"Maybe you should lay low. Leave Mark or Benny here with one of the guns to cover ya, and we'll come back for ya. Bring the cavalry," Jeremy suggested.

Julie looked at Mark for a moment as if she was considering it. "Shit, tell loverboy there to stay behind," Mark said abruptly, but Julie shook her head.

"I need to keep going. If I stay here I'm buzzard meat, and so is whoever you leave behind."

Beth looked at her with a mixture of disgust and despair and said, "You're buzzard meat either way."

"Fuck you," Julie muttered, and then more to herself than anyone else she added, "I'm going to make it."

Mark's words rang in Benny's head. This might be the last time he got a chance to look at Julie, and he wanted to take full advantage of that if it were in fact true, but if there was a chance she could survive, he had to try. He knew Julie's only hope was spotting the shooter, and soon, so he decided to make a concerted effort to do just that. If he was successful he might very well save Julie's life, and his imagination ran wild with that potential reality. For the next several minutes it was Jeremy and Benny scouring the desert, and Beth and Mark staring at Julie the way people might stare at a train wreck. Meanwhile Julie just kept her eyes fixed squarely ahead, her expression one of grim determination.

"Still not seeing anything?" Benny asked.

"Nothing," Jeremy answered.

"Motherfucker's a ninja," Mark added.

"Maybe you'd see him if you stopped watching me bleed out," Julie grumped to Mark.

"Or her," Mark answered, "and maybe I would, but I doubt he... or she's anywhere near as nice to look at."

"Jesus," Julie sighed, "You're such a douche."

For the first time in Benny's recollection, Mark appeared contrite. "Look, I'm sorry. I'm just busting your balls a little, that's all."

Julie smiled wanly at him. "A pussy and a douche. You going soft on me, Marky?"

Mark laughed then, and told her, "Jesus, you're such a bitch."

Julie's smile widened, and she even managed a chuckle, then she said, "Thanks. Now please, pretty please, try to find this fucker before he puts any more holes in me?" As if in response, a bullet smacked into her right thigh, and another gun shot report tore apart the quiet of the desert. "Aaaauuurrrrrggh," Julie cried, hobbling on her good leg. Benny watched as expressions of pain, fear, and frustration battled for control of her bewitching face, her eyebrows arching up adorably, and he was once again too distracted to look for the shooter.

"Too late," Julie mumbled, still finding her balance, "but maybe before he puts any more holes in me." She looked around in apprehension, as if she expected to be answered with yet another bullet.

Instead of looking for her shooter as requested, her companions all looked at her with a mixture of horror and pity and sadness. Benny could see now that all of them understood Julie was doomed. All of them except Julie, that is. Her will to live was still as evident as ever. "Come on, you guys. Don't give up on me. I can make it, I promise. Just don't give up," Julie pleaded.

"You've been shot five times," Beth told her.

"Thanks, but I learned how to count on Sesame Street," Julie answered. She gingerly tested how much weight she could put on her leg, and amazingly, she continued walking down the road. "Come on. Let's get back to the van." Benny saw Mark and Jeremy exchange glances, then Mark shrugged and fell in line behind her. The rest of them fell in as well, and Benny noticed that they all kept their distance from Julie, for fear that the next bullet might go astray. He wondered if she noticed it as well, but if she did, she gave no sign.

"I'll make you all a deal," she said, "if you're the first person to spot the shooter, I'll give you head."

"Hey, I see him," Mark called out, and everybody immediately tried to follow his gaze, Jeremy with his rifle at the ready. "Shit, I lost him again." There were a few groans, and Benny saw the devastating disappointment that appeared on Julie's face for a millisecond, although Mark seemed oblivious, as he continued, "So are you gonna suck my dick now, or...?"

"God, you're such a douche," Julie muttered. Mark laughed and winked at her, and she continued, "but I see you're now on board with the whole, 'the shooter's a male' thing."

"Pronoun's are a bitch," Mark explained.

"What if I spot him first?" Beth asked.

"You won't," Julie answered.

"Why not?" Beth asked indignantly. "I can see better than any of these fools."

"Not saying youcan't, just that you won't."

"Why not?" Beth asked again.

"I dunno. You're not trying. I think you're enjoying this a little too much."

"Enjoying it?" Beth asked, pretending to be taken aback, and doing a poor job of it.

"Never mind," Julie said. "I can eat your pussy, if you want."

Beth gasped, but before she could give voice to a retort, Mark interrupted, "You know what, I'll settle for just showing your tits, right now."

Julie rolled her eyes, "Why are you such an asshole?"

"Well, it takes a lot of practice. How about this? We can take bets on where the fucker will shoot you next. I say it's in the tit. If I'm right, you gotta show me your tits."

"Why are you so obsessed with my tits?"

"They're well proportioned."

Julie smiled. "Which tit?"

"Well they both are. If not they wouldn't be well proportioned, duh."

"No, doofus, I mean which tit do you think he'll shoot me in? My right or my left?"

"Ah, your right."

"Alright, I say he puts another one in my belly. What do I get if I win? Are you gonna show me your dick?"

"I'll give you fifty bucks when we get back to the van."

Julie and Mark shook on it, and then Julie added, "My previous offer still stands, though, if you legitimately spot the bastard. I'm serious." Benny noted the way Mark fell back a few steps, resuming his cautionary distance after shaking Julie's bloody hand.

"Earlier you wouldn't take a bullet in the stomach for a million dollars, but now you're willing to take one for fifty bucks," Benny commented.

"I wouldn't call it willing," Julie argued, "but if the fucker's gonna shoot me, might as well make some money out of it."

"I can't believe you two are betting on that," Beth said.

"You want in? I could show you my tits too."

"Repent," Beth replied. "Accept Jesus. It's not too late."

"Fuck off with that shit," Julie grumbled.

"I say the next bullet hits you in the back," Benny spoke up, feeling a little guilty for taking advantage of the situation, but if there was a chance he might see Julie's tits, he was unable to pass up the opportunity. Besides, Julie wasn't going to come out of this alive - he was becoming more and more certain of that.

Julie looked at Benny and raised her eyebrows. "Okay, Romeo. You got fifty on it too?"

Benny nodded. "Sure do. If I'm right... you'll show me your tits?" He never would have dreamed of suggesting such a thing half an hour ago, but he found it somehow easier to objectify Julie when he understood she was dying.

"Upper back or lower back?"

"Upper," Benny answered.

"Right or left?"


Julie held out a blood-soaked hand and shook with Benny. "You're on," she agreed.

"What if it's in the center?"

Julie smiled grimly. "If he shoots me in the spine, I think I'll be paralyzed. I don't think I'll be able to show you my tits if that happens, but I guess I won't be able to stop you from looking either."

"Fair enough," Benny agreed.

"Now remember," Julie said, and Benny could see the sick desperation in her stunning gaze, "If you spot him, I'll blow you. I mean it."

Benny nodded, feeling uneasy. He wasn't going to look for the shooter. Julie was dying, and he couldn't take his eyes off her. In fact, it appeared Jeremy was the only one still on the lookout, and Benny was certain he wasn't interested in a blow job. He just wanted to do the right thing. Again he wondered how much of this registered to Julie. Did she know he and Mark had given up on her? Was there at least a part of her that knew she was dead meat, even though she continued to fight it?

Remembering Mark's words, this might be the last time he gets to look at you, Benny whipped out his phone and pretended to be trying to find a signal, but actually just snapped several photos of Julie, and he wondered if she noticed. He figured the ruse was mostly unnecessary, either way. After all, she was dying, so there was no need to worry about what she'd think of him, and it wasn't long after Benny placed his bet that the shooter provided him with a gift, and he had an answer to his question.

They all seemed content to have Julie in the vanguard, and as Benny was lingering slightly behind her and to her right, he saw the sixth bullet hit home. It struck her in her right shoulder blade, near the edge where bone gave way to flesh. Julie's eyes bulged and her mouth gaped wide in a silent scream of pain, and after a few seconds she looked back over her shoulder at Benny. "Six. Six gunshot wounds. Muah... ha... ha...," she said, doing her best impression of The Count from Sesame Street. "Looks like you called it." She tried to sound calm, but the tremor in her voice and the expressions of terror flickering to the surface of her astonishingly beautiful face betrayed her. "A bet's a bet," she said, facing Benny, "you wanna get your phone back out so you can take another pic?" Benny fumbled for his phone as Julie winced and gripped the bottom of her denim vest. "Close your eyes, Mark, this show's not for you."

Benny didn't look to see if Mark complied. How could he? His dream girl was about to flash him. True to her word, Julie lifted up her vest and her fingers deftly found her bra on the way up, lifting that article of clothing as well, revealing the most perfect, perky, young eighteen-year-old breasts Benny could have imagined. Her areolae were larger than he anticipated, and her nipples pointed upward as if asking to be sucked. He snapped seven or eight pictures rapidly, and made eye contact with Julie before she lowered her vest again. This clearly caused her pain, evident by the grimace on her face when she moved her right arm. Benny imagined her shoulder blade was probably cracked. "Thank you," he managed, his throat dry and his mind racing with what just happened. His pecker felt like it was about to burst from his pants and explode.

"Don't mention it," Julie said sweetly, then looked over at Jeremy, "You seem to be the only one still interested in spotting this fucker. Any luck?"

"I'm sorry, Julie. I can't see 'im."

Julie sighed. "It's not your fault. Keep trying though, please. How much farther to the highway?"

Jeremy looked solemn. "Maybe five or six miles."

The desolation on Julie's face was never more apparent then, but she smiled sadly and said, "Okay. Let's do it."

Once they were on the move again, Mark asked, "Double or nothing?"

"Double or nothing? We both lost. You can't go double or nothing if you're not in the hole."

"You know what I mean, bitch. Give me another chance to see 'dem titties."

"Is your money still on my right tit?"

"Yup. You still betting on your belly?"

Julie nodded and shook Mark's hand.

"Hey, Benny, let me see those pic's," Mark said, and Benny looked up at Julie to judge her reaction.

"Don't look at me, they're your pic's," she said. Her resignation suggested she'd rather he didn't share them, but it wouldn't be worth the effort to fight over it. "What about you?" she asked Benny as Mark snatched away his phone. "You wanna try to call the next shot too?"

"Dude, hell yeah. You gotta text these to me when you get your signal back," Mark blabbed, as if Julie wasn't right there listening to him.

"You're going to flash me again?" Benny asked, ignoring Mark.

"If you guess right again, sure, why not? If I'm shot in the belly, you'll pay me fifty bucks?"

"You're on, but if I win I want to see your butt next time."

Julie thought it over for a brief moment, but in the end she agreed and shook with him on it. "So where do you think I'll be shot next?"

"In the side."

"Which side, right or left?"

"Hold on, how come you don't have to call which side of your belly you're gonna be shot in?" Benny protested.

"Because I'm the one eating fucking lead here, asshole," Julie answered. "Cut me some slack."

"Fair enough. Left side."

"Alright, let's see if you can go two for two. You know what would be really awesome though, is if one of you peckerheads spotted this fuck ass and saved my life."

"Pretty sure it's too late for that," Mark said.

"Too late to spot him?" Julie asked, and Benny thought she was being deliberately daft.

For a moment it looked like Mark was going to tell her the horrible truth - she was bleeding all over the place and they were at least five miles from the highway, and another sixty from the nearest hospital. There was no way anybody would be saving her life. But Jeremy caught Mark's attention just long enough to give an almost imperceptible shake of his head, and Mark just muttered, "Yeah, too late to spot him. By the way, why haven't you spotted him?"

"Because I'm busy trying not to die."

"Yeah, you're doing a helluva job there," Mark said sarcastically.

"You try walking with six bullet holes in you and see how easy it is," Julie spat.

"There's no questioning your toughness," Jeremy butted in, and gave Mark a look that said that was enough.

Mark seemed to get the hint, and he agreed, "Yeah, you're definitely the toughest bitch I ever met."

"Thanks. And I don't see how it's too late to spot this guy. I'm not ready to give up, but if he does manage to take me out, he's probably gonna move on to one of you next."

"What do you mean?" Beth asked.

"I mean you don't still think this all because someone has a crush on you, do you?"

"It's God's wrath."

"Fuck off with that God's wrath shit. This asshole's shooting me for sport. Anybody that would do that is just as likely to start shooting one of you next."

"I think if this guy wanted to shoot all of us, he'd have done it already," Beth answered.

"She's right, Julie," Mark agreed. "This fucker has a hard-on for you. Maybe you should show him... or her your tits."

"Come over here so I can slap the shit out of you," Julie said, with a hint of a smile on her face. Her cheery playfulness was still there, underneath all the terror and pain.

"Fuck that, what if your shooter misses and hits me?"

"That'd be the first thing to go right today."

Mark feigned insult, placing a hand to his cheek for dramatic effect. "What have I ever done for you to treat me with such disrespect?"

"Well, if you hadn't run over that deer, we'd be camping on the river already," Julie pointed out.

"And if you hadn't talked us into walking to the highway we might be partying our asses off at the ranch house. If you had agreed to wait in the van you'd be drinking beer with Brenda. If Brenda had never asked you to come on this trip you'd be watching TV on your living room couch. If, if, if. Nobody's responsible for those holes in you but the motherfucker that put them there."

"Easy there, boy. I was just fucking around," Julie said, seeing she struck a nerve. "Don't get so worked up."

"Your mom's worked up," Mark muttered.

"He's probably feeling a little guilty," Benny said, "To be honest, I feel a little guilty too."

"You? What are you feeling guilty for?" Julie asked.

"It was my idea that you come on this trip. I suggested it to James."

"Aw, is that because you have a crush on me?"

Benny never would have admitted it to her before, but now that she was dying he found it somehow easy, "Yes."

Julie walked over and kissed Benny on the cheek, causing all the blood to rush to his head. Both his heads. "Aw, sweetie, it's not your fault. Mark is ri-uuuhhhhnnnn." Beneath the sweet sound of her voice Benny heard that familiar smack of lead hitting flesh, succinctly followed by the report of another gunshot. This time she went to her knees, unable to remain standing, and Benny watched her facial expressions transition from border-line panic, to extreme discomfort, to mind-numbing terror, to mild amusement. She looked up at Benny with a grin and said, "Seven. Seven bullets," again impersonating the Count, then she winced and looked at her left side before looking back at Benny and telling him, "Looks like you called it again, dude."

"How the fuck, Benny?" Mark asked, astonished.

Benny shrugged, equally astonished. "Guess it's my lucky day," and the look Julie gave him made him sorry for saying it.

"Okay, lucky motherfucker, help me up, will you?" Benny took Julie's hands and helped her to her feet, and he noted the hole just beneath her ribs on the left side of her body, and felt a pang of guilt for calling that his good luck. "I guess you get to see my butt now. Get your phone ready."

"You're actually going to show him your butt?" Beth asked.

"A bet's a bet," Julie answered.

"You all are sick," Beth said with disgust.

Ignoring her, Julie carefully unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans and began to shimmy them down her hips. Benny's phone was already out, and he was recording this time, not just snapping pictures. "Close your eyes, Marky," Julie cooed, and again Benny didn't bother to check if Mark was complying. Julie's jeans stopped just above her knees, and she managed to bend forward slightly to accentuate the plump roundness of her buttocks. Even with a hole in the right cheek, Benny had never seen such perfection. The fullness of her thighs and the curve into her thick but well shaped waist was all just so... perfect. She looked seductively back over her shoulder to spy on Benny, and when Benny made eye contact she smiled and blew him a kiss. Then it was over, and Julie was pulling her jeans back up.

Once she was fully dressed she took another look at the hole in her left side, concern etched across her lovely face, and muttered, "Ooooo, fuck, that one is bad." She was walking again, but her pace had noticeably slowed.

"I think we should leave her," Beth spoke up suddenly. "She's right. This bastard out there will probably target one of us next. We need to put as much distance as we can between ourselves and her before she dies."

"Beth," Jeremy said quietly.

"You losing your faith?" Julie countered. "I thought this was God's wrath?"

"I could be wrong. What if I'm wrong? Is it worth risking everyone else's lives?"

"Why don't you stay with me then, and let everyone else go on. I mean if you're wrong and you die, you get to meet Jesus, right? You have nothing to worry about."

Beth scowled but did not reply, and Jeremy spoke for all of them, "We're not leaving anyone behind."

*continued in next post*


Julie's Road Trip *continued*

"So, Miss Cleo," Julie said, turning to Benny, "where am I gonna be shot next?" She pointed to her left shoulder, and mouthed the words, 'my shoulder,' secretively. Benny was puzzled, but when Julie's fierce, expressive blue eyes deliberately darted around the surrounding desert and then focused back on Benny, he began to understand. Julie suspected the shooter could hear them, and he was placing his shots precisely where Benny predicted he would. It was a solid hypothesis, and Benny decided to play along.

"I'll say... your left shoulder."

"Ok, I'll still say my tummy," Julie answered with a wan smile.

"Ok, if I'm right, I want a kiss... On the mouth... With tongue."

Julie's eyes widened. "Ooh, raising the stakes, are you? Alright, you're on, but if I'm right I want a hundred buckeroos." They shook hands, and continued walking down the road.

"What about me?" Mark asked.

"You want a kiss too, or you still just want to see my tits?"

"I just want to see 'dem titties. I'm going to keep calling that right tit. Sooner or later he... or she is going to pop one in it. I can feel it."

Julie nodded grimly and shook hands with Mark, and Benny thought he could read her thoughts. She was wondering if the shooter might decide it was time to make Mark the winner instead of Benny. A shot in the tit might very well be the end of her. Her right hand was pressed firmly against the hole in her belly, which was bleeding more profusely than her other wounds, and her left held tight to the hole in her side. The streaks of blood stood out in bright red on her clean white outfit, and Benny was amazed by how much of it she had already spilled.

They walked for a bit in silence, and Benny continued to snap photos of Julie, no longer concerned that she might know what he was doing. She would occasionally look at him judgmentally, but she said nothing. He supposed her reasoning was the same as when Mark asked to see the pictures of her bare breasts - she might not have liked it, but she had to pick her battles at this point. It was interesting to watch her expressions vary from stoic determination to stark, unbridled terror, and he wanted to capture it all. It would be intriguing to go back through the pic's later and try to guess what she was thinking at each moment. Mark and Beth appeared to share in his curiosity, and they also could not take their eyes off the dying girl. Jeremy continued to scour the desert for the shooter, but Benny thought that was a lost cause.

After several minutes of awkward silence, Julie spit up a mouthful of blood. A bit of it clung to her soft lower lip and dribbled down her chin, and she noticed everybody staring at her. "I guess that bullet in my side ripped a hole in my stomach," she said with a wavering, high-pitched voice. "Don't worry, I'll be fine," she added. Then, looking at Benny, she smiled, showing off her blood-stained but otherwise perfect teeth. "Are you still gonna wanna kiss me?" When neither Benny or anyone else responded, she said, "Somebody fucking talk or something."

Benny no longer wanted to kiss her, although he still found her incredibly attractive, and he didn't know how to tell her this, so instead he asked, "What do you want to talk about?"

"Fucking anything, this silence is making me crazy."

"Alright, well, I've been wondering. What's going through your head right now? I mean, you've been shot seven times and you're basically just waiting to get shot again. How the fuck are you dealing with that?"

"It's nerve-wracking, to be honest. It's kind of why I wanted to talk. I need a distraction. Of course you chose to talk about the thing I want a distraction from, so..."

"Shit, my bad, but you did say 'anything'."

"No, my fault, you're right. I should have been more specific. Can we talk about something else, though? Anything else?"

"Who's your crush? Who do you flick your bean to?" Mark asked. "You didn't want to answer earlier."

Julie sighed. "Alright, fuck it. I like Kyle. Also, ironically, I'm into peril, so, like, this whole scenario, I might have found erotic as a fantasy, except instead of me being shot a bunch of times Kyle would save me. Then we'd fuck or something kinky." She looked around at her audience and grimaced. "So, who's next? Benny, what's your fantasy?"

Again, the fact that Julie was dying somehow made it much easier to share, so he did. "Well, I guess it's no secret that I like you."

"Duh," Julie said, with a pained smile.

"I've imagined saving your life too. You might be kidnapped by terrorists or drug dealers, and I rescue you and we kiss. I've imagined doing you in the ass before."

Amazingly, Julie didn't seem to mind. "Well, you know, it's not too late to save my life. I might even let you do me in the ass. Find this shooter before... uhhnnn." Her spectacularly blue eyes went wider than Benny had ever seen them as she was interrupted by a hole in the dead center of her right breast, followed promptly by the sound of a gunshot. Julie wobbled slightly and then fell on her perfect butt. A wheezing cough brought more blood to her lips, and she struggled to remain upright. After a few seconds of watching her squirm, Benny offered her his hand, and she took it and somehow managed to get back on her feet. "Goddammit Mark, I guess you called it this time," then to Beth she said, "How many is that now, eight?" Her voice was weak and raspy, and Benny knew she had a punctured lung. "Jeremy, I think I need another bump."

Jeremy handed her the bullet without a word, although Beth admonished him for it, "You're wasting your coke on a dead girl."

Julie ignored her and took two deep snorts, then offered the bullet back to Jeremy. Jeremy waved his hand and told her to, "Keep it," despite Beth's glaring look.

"Thanks," Julie muttered, stuffing it in the front pocket of her jeans. Then she wiggled her nose, sniffled a few times, and turned to Mark. "Alright, you bastard. Are you ready?"

"Hell yeah." Julie moved slowly, clearly weakened and in a tremendous amount of agony, but she managed to lift her vest and her bra, exposing her pert young bosom to Mark. "Damn," Mark yapped. "He shot you in the nipple. That's fucking crazy." Benny positioned himself so he could share in the view, and he even took his phone out to capture more video. He was filming when Julie caught her ninth bullet, less than a centimeter to the upper left of her navel.

"Ooof," Julie grunted, her vest still lifted up around her neck.

"Oh shit," Mark shouted excitedly. "Did you fucking see that shit? There's that second gut shot you kept expecting." He reached out and squeezed her still-in-tact left breast before Julie slapped his hand away.

"That's assault, you asshole," she cried.

"What do you care? You're dying," Mark argued as Julie lowered her vest and covered herself back up.

"Thank you," Beth said, "Finally. Can we all just acknowledge that she's dying now and move on? We need to distance ourselves from her before it's too late."

"Dude, she might be dying but she's a fucking bullet sponge. I think we're better off with her around," Mark disagreed.

"I can fucking hear you guys," Julie complained, just before she was shot in the left shoulder. The bullet tore clean through her, the only shot so far to do so, and a spurt of blood spattered her left cheek. "Jesus," she stammered, "Okay, so whoever's doing this can clearly hear us too. He just shot me in all three spots we predicted."

"Everybody be quiet," Jeremy ordered, his eyes fixed on something up ahead, his rifle raised.

"Do you see him?" Julie asked, her voice almost giddy with hope.

Jeremy shushed her, then lowered his rifle and shook his head. "Can you still walk?"

Julie nodded, and started down the road to prove it.

"As long as she's on her feet, we're not leaving her behind," Jeremy said sternly, and fell in behind Julie.

Julie looked at Beth and stuck out her tongue. "Ten now, right? I guess the question now is... how many shots can I take before I go down? Maybe he'll run out of ammo." Julie chuckled a little and spit up more blood. Then, in a much less cheery tone, she murmured, "Fuck, I really don't want to die."

"You are dying though. If you're too stubborn to accept it and stay behind, at least do us all a favor and pick up the pace," Beth said.

"Do you ever get tired of being a colossal cunt?" Julie asked. "Jeremy, seriously, what do you see in this bitch?"

"I love her," Jeremy answered plainly.

"I guess love is blind," Julie mumbled.

Beth rolled her eyes and started walking more quickly, taking the vanguard from Julie. As they went forward it was Beth leading them, with the trio of boys in the middle of the party, and Julie limping along bringing up the rear. Benny continued turning back, snapping more photos and making sure they didn't leave Julie too far in their wake. It made conversation impossible, so they did nothing but walk for nearly five minutes, until Beth had put around fifty yards between herself and the badly flagging Julie.

"Jeremy, we're losing her," Benny said, worried that he might soon have to choose between sticking with his healthy companions or his dying dream girl.

"Beth, slow down a little," Jeremy called.

"Why don't you tell her to speed up a little?" Beth asked, but she did relent just enough so the gap between them was no longer widening, and Benny slipped back to be alongside Julie.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

"Lovely," Julie whispered, severely winded. Her breath came in harsh, wheezing gasps, and her right leg was stiff and wooden. Her lower lip trembled and her chin quivered, and both were red with the blood that spilled from her mouth. "I don't suppose you could carry me?" She giggled faintly to show it was a joke.

"How much longer do you think you can keep this up?"

"Shit, I can do this all day. You aren't getting rid of me." She smiled at him, but her eyebrows arched and he could see the misery and torment in her eyes, and he knew not even she believed it. The shooter chose that moment to plug her for the eleventh time, targeting the right side of her lower back. The lead hit her with a dull thud as Julie grunted softly, "Ooof," and the sound of the rifle cascaded through the desert. She wavered ever so slightly, then continued resolutely forward. "I'm okay," she said, just before another shot hit home in the left side of her upper back. "Hmmmph," she squealed, and Benny heard those familiar sounds again - the thwak of the bullet against her nubile young flesh, and the boom of the gunshot.

This brought a jagged cough and a spray of blood from Julie's mouth, and she stumbled to her knees. Her perfect, lush lips formed a wide O, and Benny's warped mind couldn't help but wonder if those lips might have reacted similarly during an orgasm. After only a second or two, Julie was already fighting to get back on her feet. "Help me up," she panted, and Benny obeyed. He could not believe she was still able to stand, much less continue to walk, but she did just that. He noted that Jeremy had stopped and was looking back behind them, still searching relentlessly for Julie's killer. Julie, meanwhile, fished out the cocaine from her pocket and took a couple more snorts.

"I think he just got my other lung," she huffed. "I wonder how long I can breathe with two punctured lungs?"

"Probably not very long," Benny said tentatively.

"Yeah, you're probably right. Remind me never to go on another camping trip," she said, managing another burst of laughter that quickly tapered off into a coughing bout, bringing more blood to her lips. Once her fit was under control, she called ahead to their companions, "I'm coming, don't worry, I'm gonna make it," and she soldiered on, with wounds that should have left her down for the count, and Benny found an even greater admiration for her. She was not only the most beautiful, sexy, charming, witty girl alive, she was also beyond any doubt the toughest. Of course she wouldn't be alive very much longer, no matter how determined she was to fight it.

"So talk to me, Benny. How long have you had a crush on me?"

"Seventh grade, I guess."

"Yeah, I lost a lot of weight then. I was a bit of a porker before that. How come you never asked me out?"

"Come on. You're out of my league. You never would have said yes."

"How do you know I wouldn't have said yes?"

Benny laughed. "Because you're not blind?"

"You're too hard on yourself. We need to work on your self confidence when we get home." Julie paused, as if she was daring Benny to tell her she wasn't going to make it home. Perhaps she wanted him to, so she'd have one more reason to persevere, but Benny stayed his tongue. "Tell me about these fantasies. Tell me about how you saved me from terrorists."

"Well, sometimes I imagine that our school is taken hostage. Like a swarm of guys with guns come in and they're holding us all at gunpoint, and they start executing people."

"Do they execute Mark?" Julie smirked.

"Sure, maybe they do, I dunno."

"I like this story already."

"Yeah, well, anyway, I manage to catch one of the guys off guard and take his gun, and I blast everybody in my class."

"So you're a mass murderer in your fantasies?" Julie cocked an eyebrow.

"Not everybody. You know what I mean, all the terrorists." Julie sniggered at him, and again he was amazed at how buoyant her quick wit and good cheer still remained. "But you're not in my class."

"Good thing, 'cuz you just blasted everybody in your class."

"Shut the fuck up," Benny said, laughing. "Anyway, I run into the hallway, like, 'I have to find Julie,' you know, and I know what class you're in, because it's a fantasy or whatever, not because I'm a stalker or anything."

"You're totally a stalker. You've been taking pictures of me almost non-stop for the past half hour." Benny froze for just a moment before Julie laughed and coughed up more blood. "Relax, I'm fucking with you. Keep going. I'm digging this."

"You doing okay?" Benny asked.

"I'm doing great."

"I can delete the pictures if you want."

"Dude, I'm over it. Self confidence, remember."

"Do you mind if I take some more?"

"Sure, whatever. It's a little weird, but whatever." Benny took out his phone and snapped a few shots, and Julie raised her eyebrows inquisitively. "No time like the present, huh?" She bit her lower lip, and Benny memorialized it, then she licked the blood off her teeth and Benny memorialized that too. "You think you can continue this story now?"

"Yeah, sure, sorry." Benny put his phone away. "So I run into your classroom and they've got you up against the wall. Your hands are behind your head and you're wearing something like what you have on now, so I can see your belly. I think you have the sexiest belly."

"Thanks. It's gonna have some nasty scars on it now, though."

"I still think it's sexy." Benny realized a little slowly that for her belly to scar, first it would have to heal. "You really think you're going to make it out of this?"

"I have to. Death isn't an option, is it? Dying? Can you even imagine?" Another wheezing cough left her spitting up more blood, and her pearly white teeth were stained red again. "Life is too much fun."


"I'm good. I'm fine. I'm gonna make it."

"Julie, we're falling behind. Can you walk any faster?"

"I'm just giving them a little bit of a head start before I show off my closing speed." Julie winked and grinned and caught her thirteenth bullet of the day. It slammed into her gut, erasing her smirk and replacing it with a stunned, horrified expression, and a new hole opened in her denim vest a couple inches below her ribs and to the left of her middle. Julie pressed her palm against the latest wound, then looked at Benny. "Another scar for my sexy belly," she told him, her voice small and full of trepidation. As was the case with the last few rounds, the shooter followed one shot up with another in quick succession, catching Julie in her left thigh.

The poor teen sunk to her knees, both her legs now wounded, and she looked up at Benny with desperate, pleading eyes. "I can still walk," she blabbed. "Help me up." Benny reached down with both hands and again helped her rise to her feet. It was much more of a struggle this time, and in the end Julie draped her right arm around Benny's shoulders, leaning on him for support. "I can walk," she called ahead to Jeremy, whom was now more than thirty yards away, and Beth was perhaps another forty yards beyond him. "I can walk," she repeated to Benny, her gorgeous face a mask of dread. "Don't leave me behind, I can walk."

"Can you?" Benny asked, taking Julie's arm off his shoulder and stepping away. He still did not trust the marksmanship of Julie's shooter enough to walk with her arm around him, but Julie surprised him yet again. She took one shaky step forward, then another, and she smiled nervously.

"I'm okay," she called ahead to Jeremy, her voice little more than a whisper, but Benny could see that Jeremy was no longer able to corral Beth. She was moving forward at too brisk a pace, now nearly a hundred yards ahead, and Jeremy would choose his fiancé over his newly acquired acquaintances, and Mark would follow. They were already fifty yards from Jeremy's position; certainly out of earshot of Julie's assertion that she was okay.

Julie pretended not to notice, however. She took another sniff off Jeremy's coke bullet and kept taking her shaky steps forward. "You come in and I'm up against the wall and you can see my belly. What happens next?"

"Well, you're about to be killed. They've got their guns pointed at you and they're just about to shoot you when I come in, and everybody turns towards me. They open fire and I dive to the side like an action star, dodging bullets like a badass and returning fire. I take out three of them like nothing, bam bam bam."

"Oooo, Benny the badass." Julie giggled, which again resulted in her coughing up blood, but she didn't seem to care. "I like it."

Benny wondered about her sanity, but continued his tale. "So now there's three of them left, and they scatter. I'm behind a desk, taking cover, bullets flying at me from all directions. I pop out and take out another of them, then another. There's one left, and he grabs you. He's holding you out in front of him, a gun in your back. He yells at me to drop my weapon. What can I do?"

"What can you do?" Julie agreed, watching him with wide-eyed attentiveness, still taking her wobbly steps down the road.

"I can't risk losing you, so I lower my weapon. I put the gun on the floor, and this asshole smiles at me. He pushes you aside and shoots at me, but I drop, pick up my gun and roll under his shot, then pop him right between the eyes. Bam."


"Yeah, it's nice. Then I take you in my arms. You're so grateful that I saved your life, and we kiss."

"So when do you do me in the ass?"

"That's a different fantasy."

"Yeah, I bet it is."

Benny looked ahead and saw Mark and Jeremy were almost around a bend, out of sight, and Beth was nowhere to be seen. "I think our friends have left us."

"Fuck 'em. It's you and moooooof." A bullet smacked her squarely in the midsection, two inches below her sternum and just right of center. "Uuuhhnnn, that fucking hurts. Fifteen. I think that's fif-fucking-teen." Shot number sixteen clipped her in the left hip, and Julie dropped to her knees again. "Aaakk! Suh. Sixteen?" Julie was trying to get back to her feet when she was shot for the seventeenth time. The bullet drilled her beneath her right collar bone, and she rocked back on her haunches, steadying herself by planting her right arm on the ground. Seconds later a shot punched through her right bicep, and Julie collapsed in the dirt. "Oh. Oh my God. Help me up. I've gotta get up." But Benny didn't help her this time.

"I think the shooter is becoming less cautious now that our firepower left us," Benny told her, watching her squirm on the ground.

Julie finally stopped struggling and just lay on her back. "Oh God, look at me, Benny. Shot eighteen times." She lifted her head to look at herself, then looked at Benny. "I don't fucking believe it. I'm gonna fucking die. Fuck. Fucking fuck, it's not fucking fair!" Then, looking hopeful again, she said, "Maybe you can carry me? That would be romantic, wouldn't it?"

"I can't carry you, Julie." Looking at Julie lying helpless on her back, dying, Benny felt an overwhelming desire for her. He could fuck her and nobody would care. If her killer didn't dispose of her body, the forensics team would find his DNA in her, but that didn't matter. There would be no one to claim rape, and he clearly did not kill her. There would be no questioning that. He raised his hand and looked out at the empty desert. "Don't shoot. I just need a minute with her, and then I'll leave her to you."

"Who the fuck are you talking to?"

"Your killer." Benny knelt beside Julie and started unbuttoning her vest. "Julie, I love you."

"Lucky for you that's bullshit. I bet it'd be pretty awful to watch someone you love... die the way I'm dying."

"You don't want to die a virgin, do you?" Her vest was open now, and he could see the full length of her torso. He placed a hand on her soft, warm belly, paying no mind to the blood pouring out of her.

"I just don't wanna die. Sex isn't really a priority for me right now." Benny removed her bra and fondled her tits, even the wounded one, bringing a grimace of pain to Julie's face. "Benny, what are you doing?" Benny didn't speak. He simply unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, pulled them down her thighs, did the same with his own jeans, and began poking her with his throbbing penis. It took him several tries, but he eventually found an opening down there and slid himself inside it. Julie gasped quietly, and she whimpered a bit as he thrust himself in and out, but she looked him in the eyes. He was staring into those startling blue eyes, seeing all her emotions welling up at once, so much liveliness and expression even now, on the brink of death, and he climaxed.

It hadn't taken him long. Surely less than a minute. Once his seed was spent and his apex was over, he climbed off Julie and put his dick away. Julie was looking at him with the most desperate, wistful eyes, and she begged him. "Please don't leave me, Benny. Please. Help me. I can still walk. Don't leave."

He looked back on his dying dream girl, and for the last time he let her alarming beauty knock him flat. She was just perfect. Beyond perfect. Even now, with blood spilling from the corners of her mouth and so many holes in her, with her skin turning waxy and pallid yet still managing to glow, her small breasts and soft belly bare and bleeding, her sweet adorable face contorted in agony and melancholy. "I'm sorry, Julie, you don't deserve this." Then he turned and ran before he could start to grieve for her. He never saw Julie Huerta again, but he had his pictures, and his memories.

*epilogue in next post*


Julie's Road Trip *epilogue*

She couldn't believe he had left her. After all that talk of saving her life in his fantasies, after telling her that he loved her, he had pumped her full of cum and left her in the road like a used condom. And she couldn't believe she had been shot eighteen times. It seemed there was nothing left to do but die, but no matter how many times she tried to wrap her head around it, she couldn't do it. An eternity of nothing. She would never have another chance to laugh, to tell a joke, to feel, to remember, to think. How was she supposed to come to terms with that?

I can't give up. I have to keep trying.

Julie pulled up her pants and began to shift her weight left then right, and she somehow managed to prop herself up on her right elbow. I can do this. I can make it. She imagined the looks on everyone's faces when she showed up at the van, against all odds, and asked them to drive her to the hospital. Rolling onto her stomach, Julie began to shimmy forward down the road, dragging her wounded body along. After covering several yards in this fashion, she realized she was going the wrong way. She was crawling back to the ranch house. Or was she? She couldn't be sure anymore.

Deciding she needed to pick herself up and get a better look at her surroundings, Julie began to push against the ground. Everything hurt. Her normally fit and lithe muscles rebelled, telling her they lacked the strength to lift a tennis ball, much less her hundred and thirty pound frame. Still she pushed, and slowly she began to rise. It took a monumental effort, but she managed to struggle to her knees, at which point she was promptly shot for the nineteenth time.

The bullet punched into her left hamstring, causing her to reach back for the wound. Her balance was lost and she ended up with her buttocks on her heels, but she remained upright. Turning her head she saw a man standing in the road, perhaps sixty yards from her location, aiming a rifle at her. "It's him! I see him! Jeremy!" She looked around for Jeremy, excited to tell him the news, but he wasn't there. Where the hell is Jeremy? He's the one trying to save me. He's been looking for this asshole, and now I see him, so where the fucking hell is Jeremy? Then she remembered something. Didn't Benny tell her she was falling behind? Maybe he was up ahead. Either way, she needed to get away from the asshole with the rifle, so she had to keep moving.

Julie leaned forward and put down her hands, and she began to crawl. Five feet went by, then ten, but it was slow going. If that wasn't enough, another shot was fired, and the bullet found its way into her back. It caught her an inch and a half to the left of her spine and slightly below her center, and she nearly collapsed on her face. Somehow she did not go down, and instead rose back up on her knees. I'll never catch up like this. I've gotta walk. I have to. Light-headed and dizzy, she found energy she didn't know was there and placed her left foot down in the dirt. Pushing off with her right, she wobbled and fell. Lying on her side, unsure how she even got there, she went right back to work picking herself up.

After a hellish struggle, Julie was back on her knees, her left foot planted, and she pushed off again with her badly wounded right leg. This time her balance held, and, a testament to her young body's phenomenal resiliency, with twenty bullet holes in her, she stood. Alright, now I just need to walk. I've gotta walk faster than that bitch Beth. Julie took her first step, then her second, and then she was shot again. It was high in her back, just below the right side of her neck, and Julie stiffened and paused for a moment, then carried on as if nothing happened. Left foot forward. Right foot forward. She focused on just putting them down. But then she noticed something. Her blood. Her blood was on the road, leading up ahead as far as she could see. There was a trail of it, which could only mean one thing. She was backtracking. Going the wrong way. I'm still going the wrong way!

A bullet whizzed through her left arm, up near her shoulder, and she muttered, "Fuck." Julie spun around to face the road she had just painstakingly trodden, and saw the bend off in the distance, where her companions had disappeared. The man with the rifle still stood in her way, however, and he was closer now. Thirty-five or forty yards away, perhaps. "Okay. Fuck. Okay." She would just have to walk past him. He'd put some more holes in her, but she already had twenty-two of them. A few more wouldn't kill her, surely.

She removed the coke bullet again from the pocket of her jeans and took a snort. Then she took another one, and a bullet struck her beneath her right tit. Jeremy's bullet slipped from her fingers as her killer's bullet slipped between her ribs. "Oh. Fuck. Okay." She took one step forward, then another. Picking them up and putting them down. The shooter watched her come, and when she was around ten yards closer he shot her again. This one took her in the gut, a little over two inches left of her navel. "Oh fuck me." She looked back at the shooter and scowled, and she continued walking. Left foot forward. Right foot forward. She never knew walking could be so difficult. So exhausting. Left foot... Her foot was too low, her toes drug in the dirt, and her flimsy balance was spoiled. For the final time that day, Julie fell to her knees.

She was within speaking distance now, just under thirty feet separating her from her dastardly killer, and he had his rifle raised again. "Please don't," Julie murmured, just before she was shot for the twenty-fifth time. The bullet punctured her left breast in the upper ring of her areola, which Julie and her killer could plainly see since her vest still hung open. I've gotta get up. I've gotta keep going. Julie tried to plant her foot again so she could push herself to her feet, but her limbs no longer seemed to respond to her brain's commands. She was still trying to will her left leg forward when she was shot in it, a second hole opening up in her once smooth and healthy thigh. That was enough to topple her.

She was flat on her back, engaged in the gainless labor of trying to pick herself up, as her shooter approached. "So, Julie, this is finally it, isn't it? It appears your friends have abandoned you. Raped you and left you for dead. I must say, however, you were one tough bitch."

Was one tough bitch? I still am! Just wait until I get off the ground and kick your fucking dick in. Julie managed to lift her head just enough to look upon her shooter.

He was now very close, a Caucasian man average in appearance, in his mid to late thirties, with dark hair and dark eyes. There was nothing remarkable about him, although his rifle was peculiar. The type of weapon one would expect to see in an old Western movie, but not something seen in use anywhere else. He held it up in front of him, as if she had asked about it. "A Winchester 1873 repeating rifle. How the West was won. I'm using custom made .32 rimfire shot, so it doesn't pack too much of a wallop, but still, it took twenty-six shots to bring you down." He whistled. "Impressive."

"Help me up," Julie squawked. "I can still walk."

"No, Julie, you won't be walking anymore, I'm afraid." Seeing the futility of her efforts, Julie let her head fall back in the dirt and wondered if he was right. Would she never walk again? Was this spot where she would die? The man squatted beside her and casually introduced himself. "It's truly a pleasure to meet you, by the way. My name's Henry. I'm your murderer, and I must say, you did not disappoint. You're even more incredible up close."

"Why?" Julie asked. "I don't even know you."

"A common question, although I don't fully understand why you ask it. Does it really matter to you why you're dying? Would dying be easier if it served some greater purpose, I wonder?"

Julie found herself wondering the same things, but she still wanted to know. "Curiosity, I guess," she answered.

"Fair enough. As good a reason to ask a question as any, I suppose. There are so many answers, I'm not sure where to begin." He thought for a moment before continuing, "I enjoy watching people die, Julie. I especially enjoy watching beautiful girls die. You just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, I'm afraid. I've been stalking your friend Beth for more than two months. She was my target today."

"She's not my friend."

"How unfortunate for you, then, that you ended up in her company. When I saw you today, I was overwhelmed. You are easily the most breathtaking girl I've ever seen, and I knew immediately that I had to have you. If you hadn't been with Beth today, we never would have met, and it would Beth lying here right now, breathing her last gasps. If it helps, I suppose your death enabled her to live. You've essentially given your life for hers, which might give you some sense of purpose."

Julie rolled her eyes in exasperation. That somehow made it worse. She was reminded of her thought experiment earlier that day, when she asked her friends if they would give their lives for complete strangers. Well, Beth wasn't quite a stranger, and during the short time they knew each other, Julie had come to hate the bitch, and now she was dying in Beth's stead. This was even more unfair than she had previously imagined. "It doesn't help," Julie croaked.


"Am I your first?"

"My first kill?" Henry laughed at that. "Oh no, dear. Not even close. You're my forty-third victim."

"Fucking Jesus." Julie chuckled a little then, blood coming out of her mouth and nose as she remembered Brenda's last words to her.

"That's funny to you?"

"No. It's just... my friend. The last thing she told me was, 'don't get murdered by a serial killer.' I can't believe it actually happened."


"Yeah, interesting. So don't you feel any remorse? You've killed forty-three people, well, I mean, if... when... I die, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. I mean I'm young... I'm innocent... I wanna live so fucking bad."

"People like you die by the thousands every day. There are more than five billion people in this world, and every day there's more of us. Your life means nothing. Even your friends have almost forgotten you. They left you here not ten minutes ago, and all they're talking about is when they're going to eat, and how you fucked up their buzz."

"How do you know that?"

"I thought you were the one who figured out I was listening to you. How do you think I knew your name? I planted a bug in Jeremy's boot." Henry pointed to his ear, and Julie saw the ear piece there, and it all made sense. She wasn't sure if he was telling her the truth about Mark and Benny and the rest, but the thought that she could be so easily discarded stung her more than she thought it should.

"Yeah, well, they're not my friends. Brenda's my friend. She's gonna miss me."

"For a while, I suppose she might. But then she'll get over it. Your parents will move on, and eventually they'll die, and your life will have meant nothing to anyone."

"I still wanna live." God, she wanted to live so bad.

"Most people do. I've found even those..."

"Shut the fuck up!" Julie interrupted. "I don't need your wisdom bullshit. I'm fucking dying! Oh God, please. I can't fucking believe you did this shit to me. I need to get up. I need to get to the van. Help me up."

"You're not going back to the van, Julie. You are most definitely going to die, right here, in this spot, and the vultures and the coyotes will begin picking at your flesh before anybody finds you."

Julie lay back and sobbed. She knew he was right, but she couldn't stand it. She couldn't accept it. Her mind began to reel and turn on her, and as her cocaine high turned into a down, her despair grew. Lying on her back, her lungs began to fill up with blood and breathing became impossible. Her heart began to stutter and her brain cells began to die from blood loss and oxygen deprivation. Her beautiful blue eyes stared sightlessly up at nothing, and she made a few final rasping, choking sounds, somehow found enough strength to say, "No!" in a hoarse, barely audible whisper, and then she was gone.


that road trip story was one of the best things ive read on here


Julie Goes on the Lam

It was a beautiful late summer night in West Texas, the air cool and moist in the aftermath of the earlier thunderstorm. It was one of those storms that dumped buckets for twenty or thirty minutes before vanishing as quickly as it had appeared, and now the stars were out. Julie garbed herself in some light cotton pajama bottoms, colored with blue and white plaid, and a snug plain white tank that stopped just short of covering her midriff, and stepped into the backyard.

Her feet were bare, and the wet grass felt pleasant between her toes as the fresh night air lapped coolly at the exposed skin around her navel. It was hot inside, as her parents had decided there was no need to use the a/c after dark anymore, never mind that it was the middle of August and temperatures still regularly soared into the high nineties, so she enjoyed the chill. She plopped herself down in her comfy outdoor recliner and stretched out, relishing the dampness at her back. Staring up at the starry night, she let her mind wander.

Her thoughts were mostly positive, as one might expect from a bright and beautiful seventeen-year-old girl. Her senior year of high school was less than two weeks away, and she had already been accepted into UTEP, UT, Texas A&M, and Texas Tech, and all but UT had offered her a basketball scholarship. Still, she was holding out hope that Georgetown, her dream school, would reply later this year. Her major was undecided, although she was leaning towards business. There was also her final year of high school basketball to look forward to. The culmination of all her hard work on the hardwood and three years of building team chemistry was bound to pay off, and she just knew they'd win state. Not to mention the NFL's preseason was underway, and she was eagerly anticipating tomorrow's game between Oakland and Denver. Would her Raiders finally give her something to cheer about this year? Anything was possible, she supposed.

Then, without any discernible segue, Julie began to contemplate the vastness of the universe. There was no end to what she saw up there, but yet it was less than a grain of sand on the world's largest beach. It was too much to wrap her head around. Was there a God, she wondered, who had created all this, and if so, why? She believed there was a God, or perhaps she only wanted to believe, but she often had doubts, and this night was no exception. What if there was no God? What would death be like? Would she just be gone, forever? That thought scared her more than she cared to admit. Luckily she was young, and she needn't worry herself too much over the answers to those questions for quite some time.

After nearly thirty minutes of allowing her thoughts to meander aimlessly, drowsiness began to set in, and Julie went back inside and threw herself on her bed. It was a quarter after eleven.

At 3:43 AM on the twelfth of August, Julie woke to the sounds of the Spice Girls. It was Jessi's ringtone, one of Julie's best friends and her teammate on both the girls' basketball and softball teams, and even though Julie was extremely perturbed at having her sleep disturbed at this ungodly hour, she answered the call. She'd later have time to contemplate how things might've turned out if she had just ignored it and gone back to sleep, but at the time she was thankful that she did answer. Jessi clearly needed help.

"I can't do it," Jessi said, her voice cracking with tears.

"Whu... Jess, what are you talking about? It's fucking three in the morning."

"I'm sorry. I can't..."

"What do you mean? Jess, what are you sorry for? What can't you do?"

"I just... I can't keep doing this. I don't know what else to do."

Julie furrowed her brow in befuddlement, then smirked, thinking she had it figured out. "Are you drunk?" There was no response. Only sniffles. "Jess?"

"No," came the tiny voice from the other line, more pained than before.

"Jessi, baby, you're scaring me. What's going on? Talk to me."

"I'm sorry, Julie... I shouldn't have called." Then the line went dead.

Well fuck. There's no way I'm going back to sleep now, Julie thought, and she climbed out of bed and slipped on her white flip flops. She had an old Honda she had bought just six weeks earlier, after pinching pennies from her part time job at Whataburger for the better part of a year, and she snatched up her keys and headed out.

Jessi lived just five blocks away, walking distance, and Julie had walked that distance on many occasions, but this morning she drove, because if there was ever a phone call that screamed urgency, it was the one she had just answered. Ninety-seven seconds after losing the connection, Julie pulled into the driveway where Jessi lived with her father.

The front door was out of the question, because Jessi's father was a grade A asshole, and Julie didn't feel like explaining to him why she was visiting his daughter at a quarter 'til four in the morning, so she went round the side of the house to the backyard. The laundry room window had a faulty lock, and if you jiggled it just right it would fall open. Julie had done it more than a dozen times through the years, and on this fateful morning it took her less than twenty seconds. She removed the screen and climbed inside.

The laundry room connected to a hallway, and at the far end was Jessi's bedroom. The door was closed, but Julie didn't bother knocking. Jessi barely even seemed to notice when Julie entered the room, completely unannounced and uninvited. Jessica Connors was sitting on her bed wiping away her tears, her cheeks were red, her brown eyes were bloodshot, and her chestnut hair was tussled and tangled. On the bed beside her was a Glock nine millimeter; her father's.

"Jess," Julie began, careful to keep her voice low and steady. "I'm here for you. Let's just talk, okay?"

Jessica looked up at her and rubbed a finger under her nose. "He raped me, Julie." Her voice was small and trembling, and the words broke Julie's heart.

"Who raped you?" she felt compelled to ask, although she was certain it was that rotten bastard she called a boyfriend, Ronnie.

Instead of answering the question, Jessi just said, "He shouldn't have raped me."

"Of course he shouldn't have, sweetie." She felt cold inside. How was she supposed to comfort her friend after something like this? No wonder the poor thing was suicidal.

"Why did he do it?"

Julie didn't have an answer for that. At least not one she felt comfortable saying out loud. Because Ronnie's a self-centered, egotistical asshole who only thinks of himself, she thought. "I don't know, Jess, but you need to report it to the police. I'll go with you. Shit, I'll fucking drive you there right now."

"I can't."

"Yes you can, Jessi. You have to. I know it's hard but you can do this."

Jessi was shaking her head and the tears had begun to flow again. Her hand went to the pistol resting by her thigh, and Julie took a step towards her.

"Jess, don't."

"You don't understand," Jessica said, and she raised the gun, giving Julie pause.

"I do understand. I mean I don't. I mean I haven't been raped, but... Jess, come on. You're gonna get through this."

With the barrel of the gun now resting against her temple, Jess continued, "No, I mean you don't understand. He's my dad."

Mortified, Julie hoped it was that last sentence she didn't understand, but she could not find a response.

"He's supposed to protect me. He's supposed to be the one person I know I can trust. How could he do this to me?"

Breathless, Julie managed, "Jesus, Jessi, I'm so sorry."

"How am I ever going to trust anyone? How am I going to feel safe?"

"You will, Jess, you gotta believe me. There are billions of fathers in the world, and some of them are great, some are not so great, and some are real pieces of shit. So you didn't win the father lottery, Jess, but you're smart and you're young and you're healthy and you got your whole life ahead of you. You're gonna get through this, I promise you. And I'll be beside you the whole way." Julie carefully and methodically advanced as she spoke, until she was standing within arm's length of her friend.

"I won't though. I can't. I have to do this." Julie saw that Jessi meant to finish this conversation with a bang, and she reacted.

Her reflexes had always been sharp, her coordination top notch, and her hands moved with a blinding quickness. It was one of the reasons she averaged 4.6 steals per game her Junior year. Before Jess could squeeze the trigger Julie grabbed the barrel of the gun and snatched it away. It wasn't a clean swipe, however, as Jessi lunged forward and tried to reclaim her father's piece. Both pairs of hands ended up on the barrel, until Julie shifted her right hand to the grip to improve her hold on the weapon. That was when disaster struck.

Their reckless tug-of-war with a loaded sidearm resulted in the gun going off, and the discharged bullet struck Jessica just below the hairline over her right eye. The mortally wounded girl flopped back onto her bed while Julie let out a startled shriek. She hadn't noticed touching the trigger, but had she? Maybe her finger had slipped during the struggle? Whatever the reason, in a cruel twist of fate her efforts to save her friend's life had backfired.

Amazingly, Jessi was not dead, but Julie could see the rapidly expanding pool of blood under her friend's head and knew the outlook was grim. "Jessi!" she screamed, and looking into Jessi's wide brown eyes, it was evident that the girl no longer wanted to die. Apparently a bullet in her brain had caused her to reconsider. But what could Julie do but watch the life fade away before her?

While Julie watched her friend die, Jessi's father decided to grace the girls with his presence. Julie's back was to him, but stealth was not within the man's skillset, and she knew he was coming well before he got there. Turning to face him, she could see the binge this man had been trying to sleep off as plainly as the nose on his face. He swayed slightly, his eyes were blood red, and there was too much color in his cheeks, but not even his drunken stupor could keep him entombed after the gunshot and Julie's scream.

Cradled in his arms was a twelve-gauge shotgun, and Julie knew instinctively what came next. She threw herself to the floor as the large gun bucked, and she felt a sting in her left shoulder, but she landed on her side and returned fire. Two well-placed shots struck Mr. Connors in the chest, and he dropped his shotgun and staggered backwards out of the room.

The threat neutralized, Julie turned back to her friend and saw her big glossy brown eyes staring wide at the ceiling, completely sightless. There was no life left in them. "Jessi! Oh my God, Jessi!" she cried, tears streaming down her smooth soft cheeks. "I'm so sorry!" Then she remembered Mr. Connors, and her grief turned to rage. Why should she be sorry? This was his fault. He was the asshole.

Julie turned back toward the doorway and saw the shotgun lying unattended. She glanced at her shoulder, and her tank top gave her a clear view of the three small holes left by the shotgun's buckshot. A fourth had left a groove in the left side of her neck, but none of her wounds appeared serious. Her bleeding was minimal, considering she had just been shot with a shotgun. Most of the shot had missed her, and she had her lightning quick reflexes and Mr. Connor's lingering inebriation to thank for that.

She stepped lightly to the door, found the hallway empty, and scooped up the twelve gauge. There was a doorway to Jessi's bathroom just a couple yards down the hall on the right, and across the hallway to the left was the guest bedroom. Julie swept the bathroom with the shotgun, emulating every cop she had ever seen on TV, and saw nothing awry. Turning her attention to the much larger bedroom, she hadn't even crossed the hall when she heard the boom of Mr. Connors' .357, and she felt a magnum slug punch into her lower back, barrel through her intestines, and leave an exit wound the size of a quarter to the right of her navel.

In spite of her grave injury, Julie's reaction was swift and deadly. She took a knee, pivoted one hundred and eighty degrees, and immediately found Mr. Connors behind the shower curtain. The barrel of the shotgun bore down on him and the kick nearly knocked Julie flat as she pulled the trigger. The bastard's head shrunk by half as brains and bone spattered the shower wall, and Julie felt her shredded innards lurch uncomfortably with the recoil.

Julie rocked back onto her buttocks, set down the shotgun, and peered at her tummy. As with her shoulder wounds, her skimpy tank top afforded her a clear view of the hole in her gut, but unlike her shoulder, her belly was bleeding much more profusely. She pressed a hand to the wound, hoping to stem the blood loss, and grimaced as her life poured out through her fingers. I'll be okay, she told herself, but she had bigger problems than being gut shot.

She had snuck into the Connors' home uninvited and killed both of its inhabitants. It was not a story she wanted to tell the police. Texas still executed people, and she was old enough to be tried as an adult. Am I going to die? "No," she said aloud, answering that dubious voice in her head. "I'm not gonna die." Badly frightened and not thinking clearly, Julie made the most critical decision of her young life. She decided to flee.

Figuring she would need firepower if she was going to be a fugitive, and seeing as how the recoil from the shotgun had nearly torn her apart, Julie got to her feet and went to where Mr. Connors lay in the bathtub. Gingerly bending over, one hand still clutching her belly, Julie plucked the revolver from the dead man's fingers. Checking the cylinder, she confirmed the other five chambers were live, then gave Mr. Connors' remains a kick in the groin before heading back to where she had left the Glock, and she tucked that pistol into the waistband of her pj's, the grip resting against the small of her back.

She cast one last lingering glance back towards Jessi's room, whispered, "I'm sorry," and walked out the front door.

There were no lights on at any of the neighboring houses, but Julie didn't trust that as a firm indication that she was slipping away unseen. There could easily be a concerned citizen hiding behind the blinds of any number of windows, peering out at her. She kept her head down and held Mr. Connors' magnum low as she slid behind the wheel of her old Honda. Once she was driving she began to breathe a little easier, and the question became where she should go.

The gas tank was nearly full, the only stroke of luck afforded to her on this ill-fated morning, so she had plenty of options. Mexico's border was tauntingly close, but there were checkpoints there, and she was a bloody mess. There was no way she would pass through without raising suspicions, and who knew how long it would be before the cops had an APB on her. She decided to head north, into New Mexico, and take the farm roads through the desert, since the main highways were also blocked by checkpoints. Once she made it far enough to avoid law enforcement's net, she would seek medical assistance.

When her wounds were stitched, she decided, she'd make a call to Joaquin, who ran a local street gang and knew people who could set her up with a new state ID, social security card, and even a birth certificate. One of the perks of being the hottest chick in school was all the guys kissed your ass, even if they did only want one thing from you. After a little over half an hour Julie was out of the city and off the pavement, traversing through dunes and mesquite bushes, and the bleeding in her belly had noticeably slowed. Her optimism began to return, and she saw a new future ahead of her. Perhaps college was not in the cards, or a state championship, but she would live, she would grow old, and that's what mattered.

It was around 5:30 in the morning when the light of dawn began to break, and Julie was beginning to worry once more. Her bleeding had slowed, but it hadn't stopped, and she had spilled an unhealthy amount of blood already. The entire right pant leg of her pj's was soaked through, and her car seat was starting to feel squishy from the wetness. She was also lost, and her cell phone was back home on her night stand. She wasn't sure she'd want it anyway, since the cops could use it to track her, but she was sorely in need of google maps at the moment. That nagging voice of doubt in the back of her head began to wonder if this might be the last sunrise she would ever see. No, she thought stubbornly, I am not going to die!

She needed medical attention soon, however, and she had no money, and that full tank of gas had dwindled to just around the one quarter mark. If she didn't happen upon a town in the next hour or two, she might be stuck out here in the middle of nowhere, slowly bleeding to death. That was not an encouraging prospect. A fork presented itself before her, and she bore right, keeping the light of dawn to her right. If she kept moving north, sooner or later she was bound to hit pavement.

Twenty more minutes passed and the sun began to peek over the horizon, but still Julie saw only empty desert. Her worry grew, and that nagging voice in the back of her head spoke more and more frequently, asking if she was going to die. "I can't die," she murmured to herself. "I won't die." Eventually the road ended in a T, but still no pavement and no sign of civilization, and Julie was presented with another choice.

East or West? Right or left? Julie went West, heading deeper into New Mexico, and praying for a change of luck, asking God to help her elude the law and preserve her life, and in return she promised... what, exactly? She wondered. Living a lie, dodging justice, even if her sentence might not be just, could not be considered godly. Why would God, if He did exist, help her? But she asked nonetheless, because she was frightened and desperate, and maybe God did offer a bit of help after all, or maybe she was just due for a turn in luck, but at 6:42 AM, with less than an eighth of a tank of gas, Julie reached pavement. A sign told her the town of Pinon was thirty-three miles ahead, and she felt a knot in her chest loosen. She could make it. Just barely, but she had enough gas to travel another thirty-three miles.

Sure enough, as the needle dipped below the e, she started to see buildings. Rundown and downtrodden homes dotted the land, with rusting farm equipment and junked cars decorating lots overrun with weeds, and on the far side of the town, which amounted to little more than a few homes and a post office, was a small mom and pop operation with four pumps and a liquor store. The lot was cracked and cheatgrass poked its fingers through where it could, the store a shamble of a building, with siding crumbling and paint peeling. It made for foreboding scenery, but a happier sight Julie could not recall.

Rolling into the parking lot, she had to decide, once and for all, what she believed. If there was a God, as she had been told all her life, then she should turn herself in, and no matter the verdict, she could face her maker with a clear conscious and nothing to fear. Although there was that pesky thou shalt not kill commandment - there were varying interpretations about whether or not self defense got you off the hook for that one. And what about accidental kills, like when you were trying to save your friend's life but you ended up blowing her brains out? Julie just didn't know, but she did know that if she went ahead with what she had planned, it would fly in the face of everything she had been told God wanted from His children.

So, should she stop running and risk the rest of her life on the chance that God was real, and her reward in the afterlife was far greater than anything she'd encounter in this world, or should she fight for her life and her freedom, using any means necessary? It surprised her how little faith she actually had, and how easy this decision ended up being.

She pulled up alongside pump number one and clamored out of her car. There was a moment of vertigo when she almost took a nasty spill, the blood loss and hours of cramped muscles colluding against her, but she held tightly to the driver side door until she found her balance. She left the bulky revolver on the seat, checked to make sure the Glock was still tucked into the waist band behind her, and then lurched across the parking lot.

The store was mostly deserted, excepting an elderly woman behind the register, and a similarly aged man taking stock of the liquor bottles. When Julie entered they both turned their attention to her, and their concern was immediately apparent. She supposed it wasn't every day that a teenage girl covered in blood limped into their store.

"Mercy, honey, let me help you," the woman said, stepping out from behind the register. The man appeared to have an entirely different concern, eyeballing Julie with cautious suspicion. Julie immediately proved his instincts correct, as she pulled the pistol from behind her back and waved it at them both.

"You, on the ground, now!" she shouted at the old man, and then to the woman, who had already begun retreating, "Turn on pump number one, and empty the register." The woman looked ready enough to comply, and the old man got grudgingly to his knees. His scowl could melt the ice caps, but he moved too slowly to be a threat. Julie's real concern was what was happening outside. The last thing she needed was some do-good customer cruising in, sticking their nose in her mess. As the woman punched some buttons and began stuffing bills in a plastic bag, Julie's stunning blue eyes flicked back and forth, sparing nervous glances at the parking lot, constantly expecting a car to roll up, or even worse, a sheriff or state trooper deciding to check in on his favorite haunt, maybe to pick up some coffee and a bear claw.

She never saw the old man pull a .32 out of his boot, and when she did catch motion in her peripheral vision, by the time she had turned in his direction he already had a bead on her. She opened her mouth to give voice to some sort of objection, but the pistol shot cracked loudly in the confines of the store, and Julie just managed to grunt as she caught the bullet in her gut. Much like her reaction to being shot the previous two times that day, Julie retaliated with swift and deadly force. The Glock was leveled and spit lead with pinpoint accuracy, striking the old man's dome and knocking him dead.

With the old kook out of the fight, Julie looked down to see a fresh hole in the upper left side of her stomach, spilling rivulets of blood down her belly. "Motherfucker, are you fucking serious?" She looked at the old woman and complained, "This is just not my fucking day."

The woman looked at Julie like she was the devil herself, then threw the shopping bag full of dollars and turned to run. The old woman was slow, she was scared, and she was not a threat, but Julie felt herself go cold as she shot the woman in the back. Who knew what would happen if the woman ran screaming into the street, so Julie did what she must in the interest of self-preservation. When the old woman went down, Julie staggered over to her and put another shot in the back of her head, just to be sure.

With that done, she took a moment to gather her thoughts. She had begun the day an honest girl, trying to save the life of a friend, and now she was a cold-blooded murderer. It was almost funny, if it wasn't so desperately tragic. Again she wondered if there was a God, and decided she was surely damned if there was. There was no time to dwell on that now, however. There were now two holes in her midriff instead of one, and she had a crime scene to conceal.

She drug the woman's carcass across the floor, leaving her hidden between the snack and candy aisles, then pulled the remains of the man deeper into the store, so that neither of them could be seen from the front door or windows. She found a mop in a storage room behind the counter and mopped up the streaks of blood marring the tiles, then took a roll of toilet paper and pressed it to the fresh wound in her abdomen. The keys to the store she found in the old man's jeans, and she pilfered a liter of coke before flipping the sign on the door around to say closed and locking up. The soda she used to splash away the blood she had left on the pavement outside, and when she was back at her Honda she removed the gas cap and hoped - she no longer saw any point in praying - that the old woman had done as she asked.

When she squeezed the handle the pump sprang to life, and Julie let out a deep breath. Still, as the gas flowed she couldn't stop herself from looking up and down the road, constantly expecting someone to come running to see what all the commotion was, and they would find her, bleeding like a stuck pig while casually filling up her tank. How long would it be before they discovered the carnage in the liquor store?

But no one came. Apparently the town was too spread out and too sparsely populated for the gunshots to be heard. With a full tank of gas, Julie plopped back into the driver's seat and closed the door.

She looked at the roll of toilet paper, which was now completely soaked through and beginning to drip, and tossed it aside. God, there was so much blood. She felt around on her back and right side, trying to find an exit wound, and realized the old man's bullet was still buried deep within her bowels. That not only meant it had expended all its kinetic energy ripping through her guts, but it also meant she'd need someone to dig that hunk of lead out of her, and she'd have to endure it, conscious and alert. She couldn't trust anyone putting her under, or she'd no doubt wake up in police custody.

"Lovely," she whispered. This was a grim prospect, but there was no use worrying about it now. First she needed to get the fuck out of town, and then she could find a secluded ranch or farm house, where she would persuade whomever dwelled there to help her out of this predicament. She left the gas station, wiping away a few tears that she shed for the elderly couple left dead in her wake, and continued west, deeper into New Mexico.

For a couple of hours she did nothing but drive, not stopping to use the restroom, not stopping to rest, not even slowing when she passed a state trooper thirty miles outside of Hatch. She was fiercely thirsty, but hesitant to take a drink on account of the hole in her stomach. Time passed and the road peeled away beneath her, and she bled. Jesus, there was so much blood. How much of it could she afford to lose, she wondered? With nothing to do but drive and think, her mind kept returning to her own mortality, and the very real possibility that she might be dying.

"I'm not gonna die. I'm going to live," she muttered at least three dozen times during the course of those few hours, until at last she felt she could drive no farther. She had become so light headed she feared she might lose consciousness and end up in a ditch, so she turned down a long dirt driveway that led to a farm house hidden amongst several orchards. It had the look of a family home, which would suit her needs just fine; a two story house with a patio, a tire swing, white trim and a fine upkeep. She only hoped its inhabitants weren't armed, but given this was rural America, she knew that was a long shot.

Parking just out of sight and sneaking stealthily up to a bedroom window would have been ideal, but she lacked the strength, so instead she simply drove right up to the front porch steps and pulled herself from the blood-soaked car. The bulky revolver she left on the floorboards, not trusting her strength to wield it, and kept the Glock tucked up against the small of her back. Climbing the steps to the patio was like scaling Mount Everest, but she persevered. Her conspicuous approach had evidently not gone unnoticed, as the front door flew open before she could cross the porch.

It was a woman in her late thirties, wearing a worried frown and a yellow summer dress, and much like the woman in the liquor store, her concern for Julie's well-being was immediately apparent. Julie felt a pang of guilt as she drew her pistol and stopped the woman in her tracks. "Who else is home?" she demanded, exerting all her effort just to hold the Glock steady.

"Just me and my husband," the woman told her, and Julie felt the knots in her stomach tighten. The way this day was going, the husband was probably already armed and about to plug her, hiding behind some window somewhere.

"Where is he?" Julie growled, shocked at how desperate she sounded.

"Sweetie, you don't have to do this. We'll help you. I know you're in trouble, but..."

"You don't know shit," Julie interrupted. "I've been shot three times and killed four people today, so don't fuck with me right now. Where's your husband?"

The woman was taken aback, her mouth just hanging open for a moment, and then she answered hoarsely, "He's in the kitchen, eating lunch."

"Take me to him."

They went inside and found a middle-aged man with a mop of graying black hair and leathery skin eating a sandwich and reading a book in the kitchen. He scarcely seemed to notice when his wife entered the room. "Honey," she told him, and he looked up, his expression that of a man who hasn't seen excitement in nearly twenty years, and then he saw Julie and went white as a ghost.

"What's this?" he asked, his eyes on the gun Julie wielded.

"Come into the living room," Julie told them. "Bring two of these chairs." She motioned at the wooden chairs surrounding the kitchen table. They did as she bid, and once in the living room she asked the husband if he had any rope. He said he had some in his truck, and she told him to retrieve it. Standing in the doorway watching him, she held his wife in front of her, a gun at the woman's head, and yet she still expected him to come out of the truck with a rifle in hand, blasting away. It was just one of those days. But instead of a rifle, he came out of the truck with a neatly coiled length of rope and a survival knife to cut it, and they all went back into the living room without incident.

Julie instructed the woman to tie her husband to one of the chairs, and she complied while Julie watched closely, testing the knots for tightness and providing further instruction when needed. She then had the woman, whose name she learned was Carol, sit in the other chair and went to work securing her. She started by tying Carol's ankles to the cross bar that connected the legs of the chair, then went to work fastening the woman's hands to the backrest. The work was nearly complete when Julie was shot for the fourth time that day.

She was bent over at the waist, her back to most of the living room as she worked on the knots, when she heard what sounded more like a firecracker than a gunshot, and felt something sting her in the back of her right thigh. Julie stood up, reaching for her hamstring, and she was shot again. This time the bullet entered the far right side of her back as her torso was partially twisted around, and it traveled diagonally through her body, narrowly missing her spine. Her pistol was resting on the sofa to her right, and she quickly scooped it up and turned to face her shooter, just in time to catch another round in her stomach, beneath the left side of her rib cage.

She saw her target for only a split second before she fired, a small boy no older than eleven, and for the first time that day she missed. It might have been the boy's age that affected her aim, or maybe her diminished health, but the bullet smashed through the dry wall behind his head. He was wielding a .22 air rifle, which he promptly dropped at his feet.

"Oh my God, you're beautiful," the boy said.

Julie gave him a tired smile, and quipped, "Thanks, kid. I guess you might say I'm disarmingly beautiful."

"Are you dying?" the kid asked.

Julie wasn't sure how to answer that. There were now three bullets lodged in her torso that someone would have to dig out. Was there any hope it could be done without a visit to the emergency room? She thought it extremely unlikely. "I might be," she managed after a moment. Then that stubborn voice somewhere in the back of her head whispered to her, I can't die. I won't.

What Julie didn't know was that this kid had already effectively killed her. His second bullet had torn a hole in her liver, and his third had ruptured the lining of her stomach. Even with a trip to the emergency room, without an organ donor and an exceptionally skilled surgeon, she would die, and her earlier exploits would ensure she'd never make it onto an organ donor recipient list.

Of course even if she had known this, Julie would have likely proceeded in much the same way. It just wasn't in her to give up and die. "Sit down, kid," Julie commanded weakly. She had used up all the rope tying the kid's parents, so she'd just have to hold him at gunpoint. Then she remembered why she had undertook this home invasion in the first place. "Who has a cell phone on them?"

"There's a land line in the kitchen," Carol told her.

"Even better, is it a cordless?"

Carol nodded.

To the boy, Julie said, "Go get the handset and bring it to your father." The boy jumped up and did as she asked. Then, to his father, she gave instructions. "Call your family physician. Tell him your boy accidentally shot Carol. Tell him you need him to make a house call, and you don't want the police involved. Tell him it's urgent."

"Her," Carol said.

"Excuse me?"

"Our physician is a female. Dr. Theresa Cordero."

"Her. Tell her it's urgent," Julie conceded.

She watched as the boy dialed and held the phone for his pa, and after a brief pause the old man spoke into the receiver, "Yes, this is Darrell, I need to speak with Dr. Cordero please... Sure, no problem, thanks." There was a considerable pause here, the silence in the room drawing out way past the point of being uncomfortable. Julie was about to remind them all she was dying here when the man spoke again, "Yes, Doctor, hi. It's Darrell. I have an emergency, but I really need to know I have your discretion... My boy, Billy, shot Carol with his rifle. I think it was an accident, but I really don't want the police involved. Do you think you can make a house call?" After another brief pause he said, "Yes ma'am," shortly followed by, "No ma'am," and then, "Thank you so much, and please hurry, it's urgent."

Julie breathed a sigh of relief as the boy punched a button and set the phone on a night stand. It was done. She could now relax a bit and wait for her much needed medical attention, and she began to actually believe the voice in her head that kept assuring her she would live. As the minutes passed, however, she began to feel the effects of her damaged stomach and liver. Her abdomen had been a steady source of throbbing pain ever since the .357 slug had ripped through the middle of her, but now the pain became unbearable, and the taste of warm saltiness filled the back of her throat. Sometime after she turned her head and spat out a mouthful of blood and bile, she lost consciousness.

She had no idea how long she was out, but when she came to the boy was straddling her, her shirt raised above her breasts, and he had the survival knife in hand. "Like what you see, kid?" she asked him.

"I thought your tits would be bigger," he said matter-of-factly.

"So did I," Julie answered sardonically.

"Why did you tie up my parents?"

"I needed help. I needed their help."

"They would have helped you. You didn't have to tie them up."

"Baby," Carol whispered, "come here."

Julie saw the kid was readying the knife in a stabbing position, and raised her eyebrows. "What're you gonna do with that, kiddo? You gonna stab me?" She didn't really think he'd do it, but she had apparently forgotten this was the same kid who shot her three times with a .22 air rifle. Instead of answering her question verbally, the boy slipped the knife into her belly just above her navel in one fluid motion. He pushed the blade all the way in, until the hilt was flush against her soft creamy skin. It happened so smoothly that Julie took a couple seconds to realize there was now twelve inches of steel buried in her gut.

"Oh. Wow," she muttered, "this is really not my day," and then she remembered she was still holding the Glock. Staring the boy dead in the eyes, she pressed the muzzle underneath his chin and squeezed the trigger. She saw the top of his skull fly off and his young, curious eyes go blank, and felt his little body go stiff In her lap. When she pushed him off her she heard the woman's blood-curdling scream, and saw that the boy's father had gone a sickly shade of gray. He seemed to have aged twenty years since his wife tied him to that chair. The knife handle jutting from her tummy held her attention, however, and she clutched it in both her hands and slowly pulled it from its fleshy sheath. A jettison of blood followed the blade out of her belly, as if she had buckets to spare.

Julie tossed the knife aside and clutched her belly tightly, and only then did she become consciously aware of the poor woman's screaming. I just murdered her only child, of course she's screaming. It amazed her that she had begun the day trying to save a life, and now she had murdered a fleeing old woman and a child defending his family, but that wasn't important right now. What was important was what the woman was screaming.


Just that one name, over and over. [i]Who the fuck is Paul?[/i} Julie wondered. The woman's husband was named Darrell, and their son was named Billy. She had heard the phone conversation clearly. Then it hit her. Their son was named Paul, and the man had given his doctor a fake name to tip her off, which meant the doctor surely knew something was awry, and there was no medical assistance coming to save her. Which meant...

Julie pulled herself up off the couch and staggered over to the front window. She peeled back the curtain to peer outside, and barely had time to register the cop cars with their overhead lights flashing before a .762 millimeter bullet punched neatly through the pane of glass in front of her and zipped through her chest. She took a step back and looked at herself. She hadn't bothered to pull her tank top down, so her breasts were still bare and she could plainly see the hole where her right nipple had been.

"Oh shit," Julie remarked, the woman's screams tapering off at the sight of Julie's latest bullet wound. "They shot me in the nipple. My nipple's gone." She gave a stunned look to her captives and then laughed, although she couldn't have said why. The parents of the child she had just murdered did not share in her humor, and only glared at her unsympathetically, although the woman, Carol, seemed almost pleased that Julie had lost her nipple to a high caliber rifle round. When Julie's laughter transformed into a cough and blood sprayed from her lips, she could have sworn she caught the faintest of smiles on the woman's face.

"I guess I am gonna die, huh?" she finally admitted, although that stubborn voice in the back of her head still insisted, NO! YOU CAN'T DIE!. "I really don't want to die," she said calmly, and staggered forward through the living room. "Do you have a back door?" As she shuffled along she unwittingly passed back into the sniper's line of sight and she was shot for the eighth and final time that day. "Uh," she grunted, and looking down with wide blue eyes, she saw the exit wound on the inner curve of her left breast. "I think that took a piece of my heart with it," Julie remarked solemnly, and she fell to her knees. She looked back at the couple whose home she had invaded and offered an apology. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to help her."

She then collapsed face first on the floor, and after a brief struggle as she tried to crawl forward to some unknown destination, Julie finally died.


Is that a no then?


Sorry, Pussy Shooter, I didn't mean to ignore you. Debreasting is a turn off for me, so I won't be writing about that. Ass shots are in a few of my stories - I think Julie was shot twice in the ass in the Road Trip story. Pussy shots and stabs don't really do much for me, so they're not in any of my existing stories, which is what I've been posting thus far, but I'm not really opposed to them. I could probably work a few pussy shots in to one of the next stories I write, if you're interested. Any suggested scenarios?

In the meantime, here's Julie getting raped by a werewolf.



It was a beautiful summer afternoon for soaking up the sun in her backyard. Julie wore a white cotton tee, with the sleeves and the bottom half cut off, leaving her arms and her tummy completely bare, a blue pair of jersey shorts that stopped mid thigh, and nothing else. She hadn't bothered with underwear or socks, as her parents were out of town and it was just a lazy day with no one to see and nothing to do, and the cool grass felt good beneath her toes. She was reclining on a lawn chair with a cup of iced cool-aid beside her, and her iPod on shuffle.

Bruno Mars was singing about making love like a gorilla when a loud growl startled Julie out of her seat. Her heart was in her throat before she even turned around. She caught a glimpse of something large and furry as she glanced over her shoulder, then her world was a blur of motion.

When her vision steadied, she was sitting on the rock landscaping in the front yard. There was a hole in the wooden fence that separated the front yard from the back, the hole apparently created when her body flew through it. Julie's lower lip was busted, and the right side of her head felt wet. She touched it and saw red on her fingers. There were scrapes and bruises up and down her arms and legs, but that was all forgotten when she peered through the fence and saw what was in her backyard.

A fearsome creature, which by all accounts should not have existed, was coming at her. It was the size of half a dozen men, with a chest as wide as a car and biceps the size of her torso. Its body was covered in fur, and its hands and feet were capped with long, razor sharp claws, yet it stood on its hind haunches, like a human. Its head was that of a canine, with a long, snarling snout lined with vicious fangs, and the savage eyes of a hunter. It lept through the fence with shocking agility, tearing chunks of wood away as a football player might tear through a paper sign, and Julie scrambled to her feet.

It was pointless to run. Her bare feet hindered her mobility, and this beast was faster than Julie could dream of being even on her best day, but thousands of years of genetic coding could not be ignored. She had barely taken two steps when the thing caught her, its massive, furry hand wrapping around her waist, its claws biting mercilessly into her hips. Julie cried out as she was lifted her off her feet and struggled to free herself, but she might as well have tried to bend hardened steel. The creature needed only one hand to hold her, and with its free hand it plucked her shirt from her chest like it was a tired old rag, the seams coming apart around her.

Her perky young breasts bounced free in the warm summer air, and as an act of habitual modesty Julie covered them with her hands. It was foolish to worry about indecency at such a time, but old habits die hard. Julie's priorities quickly changed when she felt something hard and wet pressing into her crotch, and she wasn't sure if the ripping sound that she heard was her shorts or her cervix. She felt the thing's member deep inside her, much too deep, pushing against her guts, and screamed as the beast began to move her up and down his slimy cock like a pump.

Its claws raked across her belly, and when she looked down she saw her intestines poking through broken skin in seven different places. Jesus, it's ripping me to shreds. It moved its hands up to her chest, engulfing her pert little bosom and torturing her breasts. Her ribs snapped beneath the creature's fearsome grip, and bits of bone poked holes in her lungs. Blood gushed from her lush lips as she tried to scream, and she felt the crunch as her pelvis shattered from the beating it was taking.

Despite all the pain and damage being inflicted to her body, her private parts were becoming lubricated with her gore and natural juices, and she began to take pleasure in the sexual act being forced upon her. Her soft cries shifted from those of excruciating anguish to the grunts of a woman in the throes of ecstasy. She noticed Brett, the creepy neighbor kid, had come outside to watch, and she could only imagine the show was putting on for him. How humiliating. You like what you see, Brett? The little sh*t had an annoying habit of staring at Julie when he thought she wasn't looking, even though she had caught him half a hundred times. She had a feeling this little scene would fill his spank bank for a good long while.

But she couldn't think about that. All she could think was, Oh God, I'm dying. This thing is killing me and it feels so f*cking good. The creature's claws left deep furrows on her right breast and down her back, and suddenly it felt as if a hose had been turned on inside her midriff. The beast was making an odd noise behind her, and Julie realized it was coming. She saw its seed spurting through the gashes in her tummy, and felt it oozing down her thighs. No! I'm not finished. She was left unsatisfied and pining for more when the creature pulled out and tossed her aside like a used condom.

Julie tried to crawl away, dragging her broken body across the rocks, but she needn't have troubled herself. The wolfman had lost interest in her, and bounded up the street. Seeing an opening, Brett took the opportunity to approach her and roll her onto her back, apparently to get a better look at her mangled t*ts.

"Julie, holy sh*t, Julie," he babbled.

For reasons she could not explain, Julie replied with, "I got raped by a werewolf," followed by a burst of choked laughter. Then, in a more sobering voice, she added, "It tore me up." It was a completely nonsensical conversation, and the last thing Julie ever said.

"Yeah, it did," Brett agreed. The kid just knelt beside her, staring at her while she died. It evidently never crossed his mind to call 911.


I just can't seem to get enough of your work! More!


AWWWW! Aww aww aww! My hero! That's the very kind of stories I absolutely love! The victim being very deliberately murdered. Dieing. Knowing they're dieing. Still fighting for their lives in despair and losing the fight. Please write more!


Oh, okay. And yeah, actually. I have a few ideas. I'm just not the best at writing, so I have a thing for my ideas being realized to their fullest potential by someone with skill.

First, she gets assassinated at her wedding. Her and her female fiance both suffer bullets to the bag through their wedding dress. As such, everyone ends up seeing their cunts

Another good scenario is she gets shot there by her ex while enjoying a hot bath.

Yet another where she's playing with herself, preferably anally, and gets shot in the cunt either just before or just as she cums, ruining her orgasm.


I love all of these stories. Thanks! My favorite was The Babysitter. The part where she knows she's going to die and makes those phone calls. So sexy.


Pussy Shooter, I kind of like that last idea, so I'll try to write it. It reminds me of this next story I'm about to post. Just keep in mind I'm a slow writer, so you might have to wait a little while.


Julie's Birthday Party

Looking down at Julie's bloody corpse, Carlos wondered how things had ever gotten so far.

One week earlier:

It was in the books. The trip was planned, the plane tickets were non refundable.

Julie's eighteenth birthday was fast approaching, only two days away, a Tuesday, and her parents were going to take her to dinner at Applebee's. The following morning, before Julie even woke for school, her parents would be taking a cab to the airport to catch a 4:30 flight to LAX, where they would spend the week with her grandparents in Los Angeles. Their return flight was scheduled to arrive at 3:15 PM the following Monday. In the meantime, Julie would have the house to herself. To a teenager, this could only mean one thing. It was not just a golden opportunity to party, it was in fact her civic minded duty as a senior of Calcutta High to host the wildest, rowdiest, most outrageous party possible. Julie would not disappoint.

Of course, for a girl of such epic beauty, it was really a cinch. There were plenty of guys falling all over themselves to do the work for her, and Julie was more than happy to let them. Juan had a fake ID and volunteered to pony up for the kegs, and Luis said he could get a great deal on about a dozen bottles from Juarez on Wednesday. Sammy and Enrique would spread the word around school. Manny agreed to watch the door and collect fees from underclassmen and anyone who was not part of the "in" crowd. She could even get a few of them to help clean up if the aftermath was too severe. All Julie had to do was open the doors.

Bubbling excitement welled up inside her as she fabricated her preconceptions of the coming weekend. Maybe Thomas would be there. And maybe he would finally make a move.

It's been said that sometimes the most beautiful people in the world are the loneliest, and for Julie this cliche had a ring of truth to it. While on the surface she was cheerful and care free, always ready with laugh or a smile, deep down she longed for a real connection with someone. Despite having an abundance of companionship, Julie had very few true friends. Most of her relationships were shallow and insignificant.

Thomas clearly liked her - she frequently caught him staring at her in class - and he was such a sweet heart. His feelings for her were at least partially reciprocated. Julie wasn't sure what she felt for him, but it was something. He was brilliant, mysterious, and handsome in a rugged, unpolished sort of way. He wasn't like the other boys in her school. He was deep, and thoughtful. The potential was there for something magical between them, but his shyness was maddening. Everytime he was around her he would clam up like a mute.

So for now, all Julie could do was hope and dream. That Sunday afternoon she did plenty of both, and if you had told her she had less than a week to live she would have crowed with laughter. How could she know the party she was planning would lead her to a grisly end?

It was Marty who found the crossbow. Carlos wondered what might have been if they never found that damned thing. What if Marty, searching in his drunken stupor for the restroom, hadn't ventured into Julie's parents' room? What if he hadn't inadvertently stumbled into their walk-in closet and seen the Titan HLX Crossbow propped up against some old boxes stacked in the back? Who the fuck hunted with a crossbow anymore, anyway? Jesus.

There were three carbon bolts, fitted with razor sharp hunting tips, bundled together on the floor beside the weapon. All three bolts were now jutting out of Julie's soft flesh. Could you even call it Julie's flesh anymore? Julie was, for all intents and purposes, gone. What lie here on the floor was just a lifeless sack of guts and slowly coagulating blood. It was still a very attractive sack at that, but the life that animated it had been cruelly snuffed out. Carlos felt a sudden urge to vomit.

Ten hours before Julie's death:

Juan arrived early, as advertised, toting three barrells of beer in the back of his pickup. It was just after 6 PM, an hour or two before any guests were expected. Jon was with him, and together they humped the kegs into Julie's kitchen, dropped them in buckets of ice, and tapped them. They each helped themselves to a cup of the brew, congratulating themselves for getting a headstart on the party.

The liquor was already stocked and ready - despite Julie's warnings Luis had made good on his offer and returned to the States with his life, as well as three bottles of Jack, a bottle of Wild Turkey, a couple bottles of Smirnov, some Hindricks, three different varieties of Jose Cuervo, and a bottle of Captain Morgan. These came with assorted mixers and sodas, from which Juan offered to pour Julie a gin and tonic, but Julie didn't join them in their suds. She didn't drink much as it is, and wanted to remain mostly sober tonight. Sure, she would have a few rounds, but it was important that she keep her senses. Rape was one thing to worry about - a girl as beautiful as Julie had to be vigilant at all times - but she also had to make sure things didn't get too far out of hand. It was her parents' house, after all, and if property was damaged it would be her ass.

There was some protesting when Julie politely declined their invitiation, but thankfully the boys didn't badger her much. They let her be and sucked down their beer together in the kitchen while Julie plopped herself down on the plush, cream Elliot sofa her parents had picked up from Macy's a few years back and clicked on the TV. The DVR was stocked with old episodes of Jersey Shore and Keeping Up With the Kardashians, and Julie managed to finish viewing an episode of each before the first of her guests began to shuffle through the door.

Manny, the doorman, was late, showing up at nine with an excuse and an apology, and by that time both the living room and dining room were thriving with kids guzzling alcohol and shaking their lithe bodies in rythm with the music. Julie had a Yamaha TSX-140 blasting out tunes from her iPod in the living room, and so far it had been a crowd pleaser. When Manny began babbling about his brother's basketball game and his sister's conundrum and some other bullshit, Julie just waived her hand non chalantly. Manny's tardiness didn't concern her. If they didn't recover enough money from the guests she wouldn't be out a dime. Juan and Luis would be the ones to complain, and they could take it up with Manny if they chose to do so.

At 10:30 Julie's heart leaped, as in through her front door walked Thomas. He was accompanied by Jaime and Barry, and he was high as a kite. Julie, who was now nursing her third beer of the night, greeted them with a hug and a smile, but casually moved on. If Thomas had any balls he would be hitting on her within the hour.

It had been Carlos' idea, he couldn't shirk his responsibility in that regard. Marty had showed him the crossbow and his mind went right to work. Of course this is not what he had envisioned. This was all wrong. Terribly wrong. He had planned on a free show and nothing more. It would have worked too, should have worked, if not for Ruben's itchy trigger finger. And Marty's bloodlust.

Three hours before Julie's death:

"You ever just look up at it and wonder?"

Mesmerized, Julie looked up at the night sky through a thin veil of smoke.

"I mean, goddam, it goes on forever, doesn't it?"

Julie almost choked, then exhaled and a plume of grayish white vanished into the chilled desert air. "I guess," she answered, feeling the THC take its hold in her.

"Life's a trip, Julie, you know. Like sometimes I just look at people, and like, I wonder what it would be like to be that person. Like what's it like to have their thoughts. What do they do when no one's around? What are they thinking right now? You ever do that?"

Julie just looked at Tom, fascinated, and shook her head. He took the joint she passed him and pressed it to his thick, lush lips. She wondered what it would be like to kiss those lips.

"For instance, right now, I'm wondering what's going through your pretty head," he told her as he sucked air and illegal toxins into his lungs. "What are your hopes and dreams? What are your fears? What do you think about late at night when you're all alone?"

Julie felt strangely calm, completely at ease with this boy with whom she had only just begun conversing. There was a connection here, something real building between them. She could feel it.

"I guess I want to feel love, you know? True love. Sometimes I fantasize about being in danger; like really scary mortal danger. People are chasing me for some reason, trying to kill me, and then the man of my dreams just swoops in and saves me and we run off together."

No one else was around. They were completely alone, lying on their backs on Julie's roof, staring up at the stars. The party seemed to exist in some other plane of existence, in some other universe. Tom looked at her and she looked back at him wistfully. "And then we live in some other country, on the beach somewhere, and we walk along the beach at sunset holding hands and just stare into each other's eyes."

"Sounds romantic," Tom said, and Julie could sense his earnestness. He was not just placating her, he was really listening. Unlike most boys, he was genuinely interested in her, not just in what was under her clothes.

"And at night, I guess I think a lot about death," she continued.

"Ah yes, that's a motherfucker. The only drawback to life, is that you have to die."

"I guess it's pretty scary." Julie would never admit this to another living soul, but with Tom it was different for some reason. "I mean, do you believe in God?"

"That might depend on how you define 'god', but I guess the short answer is no, I don't." Julie was a little surprised by this. She supposed it was because religion was so prominent, it was odd to meet someone who was openly atheist.

"Well, the way I see it, there has to be a God, because how else can you explain all this? Like the planets, how they're all perfectly round. That can't just happen. Something had to make it that way."

"That's called an argument from ingorance, Julie. You can't explain something, so you insist it must be God's doing. Physicists may have an explanation for why the planets are spherical, probably something to do with gravity and orbits and shit, or they may not, but that doesn't mean we can just choose whatever explanation we want and insist it's the truth."

"I dunno, I can't think of any other explanation that makes sense."

"Well, maybe you're right. Maybe there is some all powerful being that created everything. Personally, I don't think such a being would be sentient in the way humans are, or that it would resemble the god or gods of human religion. All that shit they teach you in church on Sunday, it's all just a bunch of bullshit people in ancient times came up with. I mean, these are people who though the Earth was the center of the universe."

"But why would they just make this stuff up? There's gotta be some truth to it."

"Shit, there's all kinds of reasons to make this shit up. There might have been pure intentions behind some of it, but all religious books are really just words written by men, men who are just as fallible or corruptible as you or me. Some people use it to gain money and power, for some it's a cop out to explain the unexplainable, and some of it's just a comfort for people who can't face the reality of death."

"So what do you think happens when you die?" Julie asked.

"You're just gone. Forever. It's just like before you were born, but you don't have life to look forward to."

"Fuck," Julie felt light headed just trying to comprehend it.

"Think about it this way - we may not know what caused the universe, or if the universe was caused, but we do know how the human brain works. Everything I am, all my thoughts, my memories, my feelings, even the way my heart rate triples when I look into your eyes, it's all just electrical impulses running through my brain. Chemical reactions, and shit. Once my brain shuts down, all that's gone."

Julie's eyes were wide, the starlight glistening in the deep, brilliant blue of her irises. Fear and passion burned feverishly in her belly. "That's pretty terrifying," she whispered.

"I hear ya. Sometimes I almost wish I'd never been born, cuz at least I wouldn't know what I'll be missing when I'm dead."

Julie giggled. "That almost makes sense."

"Yeah, I guess it's kinda stupid really. What it all boils down to, is the past is gone - we can never get it back - and the future is uncertain, so all we really got is the present. So we oughtta just do what makes us happy. Make the most of it, right?"

"If you always just do what makes you happy you'll end up regretting it, sooner or later."

"Nah, regret's for suckers. Life's too short for that shit. Just live and don't look back."

Julie giggled again, and Tom thought it was the sweetest sound in the whole world. "You're crazy, Tom."

"I'm the sanest person you know." And just then he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. She felt his hand on her cheek, felt the firmness of his teeth with her lips, and then his tongue was darting into her mouth. She kissed him back with every bit of passion in her soul, meeting his tongue with her own, and if a bolt of lightning had chosen that moment to shoot out of the sky and strike them both dead they would have believed it was a death of their own making.

When they finally pulled back, both of them breathless and wild eyed, Julie looked at Tom with an animalistic hunger. Taking his hand in hers she placed his palm on the swell of her firm right bosom. Tom squeezed the breast in his fingers, feeling its springiness, its pliancy, so soft and firm and young and full. He wanted to feel the bare skin against his fingers. He pinched the nipple, felt his cock throbbing in his boxers as Julie moaned softly, and then he was on her.

As their bodies pressed together and their kisses burned on each others necks and faces, he slipped his hand up her shirt. His fingers brushed along her flat, smooth, soft belly, over the flesh packed tightly against her rib cage, and met the resistance of her bra. Flustered, he pulled back, and with his eyes he told her what he wanted. Julie understood him completely, and without hesitation she lifted her shirt over her head, mussing her soft brown hair and not caring in the slightest, tossed the garment aside, and reached behind her back with both hands to fumble her bra loose. It was quick work, and in no time Thomas was gazing upon her spectacular bare chest.

"I was wrong," he told her. "There is a God." Julie smiled devilishly at him.

He cupped both breasts in his hands, kneading them, admiring their ductile flesh and the way they jiggled as she moved. Julie's breath quickened and her fingers went to her crotch. They began to pepper each other with sultry kisses, Thomas breaking away just long enough to gently bite and suck on Julie's gloriously bare bust.

When Julie began to unbutton Tom's jeans Tom put his hand over hers. "What are we doing here, Julie?"

"I think you were just about to round second. Should I stop?"

"I dunno, I'm not sure if I can stop. I'm about to explode over here." Tom helped her get his pants down, exposing his giant, pulsing organ. "Just want to know how far we're taking this."

"I don't think I wanna go all the way yet, but how about I suck it for you?"

Tom couldn't believe his ears. He nodded slowly, and did everything in his power to hold back his wad. He wanted to enjoy this as long as he possibly could. With his pants around his knees, Tom rolled onto his back and Julie went down on him. It was heavenly.

Marty had agreed with the plan immediately. Ruben took a bit more convincing.

At first Ruben had told them they were crazy. Out of their minds batshit fucking insane to try something like this. Carlos did his best to soothe Ruben's nerves, telling him it was a simple plan really. Nothing could possibly go wrong. They wouldn't lay a hand on Julie, no one would get hurt, and they would leave no evidence of any wrong-doing. It would just be Julie's word against theirs. It was perfect.

In the end Ruben grudgingly agreed. The poor bastard. If only he had stuck to his guns. Maybe Carlos and Marty wouldn't be in this mess either. Maybe they would have called it off if Ruben hadn't fell in line.

Twenty-five minutes before Julie's death:

Shortly after the final group of stragglers made their way out the front door, with Adan drunkenly blabbing about getting some breakfast at Village Inn, emphatically begging Julie to join them - a request which Julie refused, much to her own detriment - Julie sat down on her bed and sighed. She was worn out, a little buzzed, and still high from the bud she and Tom smoked. It was the first time she had ever indulged herself with the reefer - and it would be her last - and it really hit her hard. Tom said it was chronic, the best stuff around, and Julie was not one to differ.

After kicking off her shoes and stripping off her socks, jeans and blouse, Julie slipped into a pair of pink pajama bottoms speckled with white hearts, and a loose fitting, plain white halter tee shirt. She didn't bother with underwear - she had the house to herself and it was much more comfortable this way. Then she lay back on her bed, closed her eyes, and in her mind's eye she saw Tom's aberrantly handsome face grinning at her. She slid her fingers under her PJ's and gently began rubbing the warm, burning cleft between her legs. After several minutes she was working herself into quite a frenzy. That's when she heard the voice in her doorway.

The first thing Julie felt was embarrassment, having been seen fingering herself in her bed by one of her classmates. But embarrassment soon gave way to indignant anger. What the fuck was this asshole doing in her room? Why hadn't he gone home with the rest of the assholes? Anger quickly fizzled into fear, as she saw what the asshole was holding.

It was her dad's crossbow, loaded and ready to fire, and it was pointing in her direction. Ruben, a freshman from Calcutta High, wielded the weapon, and as she stared at him Marty and Carlos filed into the room, Marty holding her father's hunting knife and Carlos brandishing a butcher knife from the block on her kitchen counter.

"Huh," Julie gulped, unsure of just what was happening.

"I said, don't stop on account 'uh' me." It was Marty speaking. Marty, the short little fuck of a freshman who nobody invited. The little shit probably crashed the party and got by without paying, thanks to Manny's unreliable ass. Now he and his runt friends were holding her hostage or God knows what. What a nightmare.

"I'm calling the cops." It was a tenuous threat, lacking any real conviction. Julie just wanted to gauge their reaction. See how serious they were. Nobody moved. Nobody flinched. They were apparently pretty serious.

"Try it," Ruben told her, moving his finger from behind the trigger guard and dangerously squeezing the trigger.

Julie gulped. "Look, whatever you guys want, it's yours. I don't have much cash on me though, Manny was collecting - "

"We don't want no cash. We just wanna watch," Marty interrupted.

"Watch me... masturbate?"

Marty and the others nodded. "Come on, Julie. We're not going to hurt you." Now it was Carlos who spoke. "Nobody's even going to lay a finger on you. I promise. We just want to watch."

Julie's cheeks flushed bright red, but she took a deep breath and steadied herself. Maybe it wasn't so bad. They weren't going to rape her, rob her, or kill her. They just wanted a cheap show. If that's all they wanted, maybe she would give it to them. Things could be a lot worse, after all.

Julie slowly relaxed, closed her eyes, and just as she began to pick up where she left off Marty spoke up again.

"Take off yer shirt."


"You heard me."

Oh, this is too much. Julie considered making a break for it, but only for a split second. Ruben and Carlos seemed timid enough, almost frightened, but Marty had an aggressive feel about him, as if he was just hoping she'd screw up, do something stupid, and give him a reason to hurt her.

There were three of them, and while she was fairly sure Ruben had no intention of pulling the trigger on that crossbow, if she made them nervous who knew what could happen. At the moment they just wanted a show, but piss them off and then what? Rape, assault, battery? Things could get ugly real quick. It was best to just cooperate.

Julie slowly pulled her shirt over her head. Her perfect breasts perked up from her chest, free and bare for her visitors to ogle. Now kneeling on her bed, topless, Julie leaned back and began stimulating herself. Her breasts bounced and jiggled beautifully as she massaged her clit.

At first she envisioned herself on the roof with Thomas, their bodies pressed together, his warm breath on her neck. She could feel his thin, hard muscles as he folded her in his arms. Then she pictured herself on her bed, Ruben aiming his crossbow at her, and saw Thomas barging into the room to save her, knocking Ruben on the floor with his shoulder. She imagined the crossbow going off, the arrow punching through her soft, tender belly, her blood spraying and her life slowly ebbing from her body. Oddly, she found the danger of the situation incredibly erotic, and electric ecstacy pulsed through her body. Forgetting herself, Julie gasped, "Oh yes!" Her audience's cumulative jaws dropped.

Putting on the theatrics, Julie moaned and cried as though she were the star of a raunchy porno. She was really getting into this, and thought if things worked out with Thomas she might want to role play some deadly scenarios with him sometime. It wasn't long before a crippling orgasm blasted through her, every nerve ending in her body lighting up with intense pleasure. Julie screamed with delight, and that's when it all went to hell.

As Julie climaxed all the boys in the room felt a powerful yearning in their groins, but Ruben actually came, semen coursing from his balls in generous spurts. The heightened sensation caused his muscles to tense, and his finger tightened ever so slightly on the trigger of the Titan HLX. This minute increase in tension launched a deadly bolt into Julie's thick left thigh. It struck her up near her hip and sliced through her flesh with ease, the tip protruding from the meat of her hamstring.

The pain was immediate and intense. Julie fell back onto her butt and cautiously clutched at the muscle surrounding the puncture. "Ohhh, you fuckers," she spat. Her blood was spilling over her fingers, dripping onto her bed spread, turning the dark blue an even darker purple.

"You fuckin' shot 'er, dude," Marty said.

Ruben was dumbstruck. "Shit. I'm sorry, oh fuck, I'm sorry. My finger slipped." In the back of his mind he was still hoping the wet spot in his crotch wasn't visible. "Are you okay, Julie?" It was a stupid thing to ask a person when you had just shot them the leg with a crossbow.

"Wuddaya think, numbnuts, you just fuckin' shot 'er," Marty said, and yanked the crossbow away from Ruben. "Gimme one of dem arrows. Hold dis." Marty swapped his hunting knife for the bolts Ruben held.

"Awwww, sonofabitch, it fucking hurts," Julie squealed. "Okay. Okay," she gasped while she tried to catch her breath. She grabbed her shirt and slipped it over her head. "I need an ambulance. Show's over." Julie pulled the shirt down over her breasts and looked at her attackers with authoritative eyes. Get me an ambulance, that look said, and Carlos stepped back as if to comply with this command.

"Wuh... where's your phone?" Ruben asked.

"On the nightstand," Julie moaned, pointing at the small table a few feet from the head of her bed. Ruben started in that direction, but stopped when an arrow whizzed past him and struck Julie in the right side of her chest. The poor girl grunted and spun backwards with the force of the bolt, bracing herself on her bed with both hands. She looked at the projectile buried in her breast with wide, disbelieving eyes. How did this happen? Then she looked up at the author of her distress, Martin Vincini. Marty glared back at her with a chilly smile.

"What the fuck?!" Ruben shouted. "You shot her in the t*tty!"

"Get me 'er phone," Marty said quietly. He was already loading up the third and final bolt on the Titan.

"You really fucked her up, Marty. I think she's dying." Julie was struggling to sit up, her eyes fixed on her wounded t*t, her hands wrapped around the shaft's point of entry. Blood was bubbling over her lower lip, and Julie swiped at it absently.

I'm okay, she tried to tell them. [/i]I'm fine, don't worry,[/i] but her mind couldn't form the words. Fear clouded everything, gumming up the gears in her head. Was she dying? Was she really?

"We gotta kill 'er now, you twit. We can't let 'er go no more, not after you shot 'er." Those words turned Julie's blood cold. At the drop of a hat her chances of survival had gone from very good to almost nil. All because Ruben's finger slipped.

"Wait!" she cried. "I won't talk. I swear." Julie knew it would do little to reassure them, but she had to try. "You don't have to do this." Then, struck by sudden inspiration, she added, "I can be your girlfriend."

Marty laughed heartily. "T'anks for da offer, dollface, but we do hafta do dis. You'll go squealin' as soon as we're outta your sight, sure as shit."

It was no use. There was no talking Marty out of it. That's when something hard inside Julie spoke up, something like iron forged in the fires of hell. Fuck that, I'm not dying here like this. Not me. I'm going to get the fuck out of Dodge. To hell with them.

"Now get me dat fuckin' phone, f*cktard!" Marty swatted Ruben in the back of his head.

As Ruben stepped over to the night stand and collected Julie's cell phone, Julie bit down on her lower lip and managed to stand, placing most of her weight on her good leg. Without looking any of them in the eye, she limped toward her bedroom door, brushing shoulders with Marty as she hobbled past him.

"She's making a run for it," Ruben blabbed.

"Gimme da phone," Marty growled. Ruben handed it over. Marty smashed the phone on the floor, then continued fighting with the loading mechanism on the Titan. "Stick 'er, Carlos," Marty hissed as Julie stumbled by them.

Carlos hesitated, picturing himself rotting in some dark, dreary cell. "Do it, 'Los!" Marty bawled. Spurned by Marty's violent anger, more afraid of him than the thought of any prison sentence, Carlos lashed out, suddenly jamming eight inches of his wide, sharp butcher knife into Julie's abdomen.

Julie groaned, but didn't even look in Carlos' direction. The blade entered her soft belly at an angle, sliding into the left side of her midsection and slicing through fat, muscle, and thick coils of warm, slippery intestines. Carlos yanked the blade free and Julie just kept on hobbling, placing her left hand on the wall to steady herself, still clutching her right breast in her other hand. It was then that the boys saw the tips of the bolts protruding from Julie's backside.

"Holy shit, those things went all the way through her," Ruben said with awe.

Carlos stood back and watched her limp away, his jaw slack and his knife dripping with Julie's blood. He couldn't understand how she could still be walking away from them.

Having won the battle with the loading crank, Marty raised the crossbow and fired. The third and final bolt plunged into Julie's lower back with a thud, then Julie rounded the corner and was out of their sight.

Julie accepted the third arrow with a grunt, and looking down she could see the four-sided, razor sharp blades which comprised the arrow head poking several inches out of her midriff, above and off to the right of her navel. This left an ugly wound in her belly, and gouts of blood coursed down from the shaft, soaking into her pajama bottoms. The right side of her shirt was already a bright, gleaming, wet reddish color, and as she wondered how much blood she could afford to lose, she staggered around the corner into her living room.

Across the parlor, only forty feet from where she now stood, was the front door. Beyond it, her neighborhood. Civilized, rational-minded, sane individuals lived in that world. Individuals who did not shoot you with arrows. Individuals who might help her survive this nightmare. It was mockingly close, yet so far away.

Julie started for it, but she had only taken a few shaky steps into the parlor, away from the support of the wall, when she felt the hunting knife sliding into the small of her back. It sank into her flesh once, twice, three times, poking holes in her both to the right and left of her spine. Julie gasped and screamed as she was stabbed, and her big blue eyes rolled wildly in her head. Her back arched and her hands groped behind her, trying to stop the frenzied attacks. Beside her Carlos and Ruben shuffled by, watching with cold indifference.

Her situation seemed hopeless, and Julie felt despair wash over her, threatening to break her will, but again it was that hellacious iron inside of her she drew upon. Fight them. Don't give up, just keep fighting.

The fourth time the steel sank into her, Julie managed to collar Marty's wrist, holding the shank in place inside her flesh. Her fingers were lacerated in several places from warding off the attacks, but her grip was steel tight. Meanwhile, Carlos handed his butcher knife to Ruben and raced off to the kitchen in search of another weapon.

"Stick it in 'er, Ruben. Don't be a snatch." Good ole Marty, egging on his friends. Ruben obeyed.

Julie held fast to Marty's wrist with her right hand, but swung her left around to stave off Ruben's frontal assualt. Her fingers were splayed out in front of her as Ruben brought the butcher knife down toward her chest. The knife cut through the webbing between her third and fourth fingers, then poked a shallow hole in the meat below her left breast. The blade grinded against her rib cage, denied access to the vital organs in her chest cavity.

"It won't go in," Ruben yelped.

"Stick 'er low, where she's soft," Marty replied.

Ruben tried again, jabbing the length of the knife straight into Julie's tummy, less than an inch from her navel. She tried to grab the blade as it entered her, and only succeeded in slicing open her palm.

"I'm sorry, Julie," Ruben told her.

For one brief moment they looked deep into each other's eyes, and Julie could see Ruben for what he was. A scared, cowardly little boy in way over his head. She wondered if he really knew what he was doing. Did he fully grasp what it meant to take a life? Julie didn't think he did. Without warning, she suddenly thrust her forehead into the bridge of Ruben's nose.

She felt a satisfying crunch against her skull as the cartiledge crumbled, and Ruben stumbled back, holding his ruined beak in his hands. Blood streamed from both nostrils, and Ruben looked at Julie with accusatory eyes. Yeah, right, I'm the bad guy, Julie thought. Were her situation not so dire she might find the irony chuckle-worthy, but as it was it hurt too much to laugh. Instead she offered Ruben a grim smile, closed her fist around the knife handle jutting from her stomach, and screaming in agony she yanked the blade from her belly.

Spurts of Julie's blood hit Ruben in the crotch, concealing the moist spot of which he had been so self-conscious earlier. Julie ignored this. Now armed for the first time since her ordeal began, she swung her arm up and across her body, succeeding in doing to Ruben what none of them had been able to do to her. She sliced open his jugular, effectively killing the boy. It was not an instant death, far from it, but it was an undeniably fatal wound. A geyser of blood sprayed from Ruben's neck, painting the floor and the coffee table with shocking crimson. A wide-eyed Ruben slapped a hand against the wound and tumbled backwards over his own feet.

Marty, unmoved by his friend's mortal injury, finally succeeded in freeing his knife from Julie's back. Julie still clung to his wrist, but Marty had gained leverage over the weapon. Before he could drive the blade back home, however, Julie swung her left elbow up into his mouth, smashing his lips against his teeth. Marty took a few steps back, reeling from the blow, and Julie turned on him.

She slashed at Marty's face with the butcher knife as she spun on her heels, and Marty couldn't get out of the way in time. Cold steel slit open his cheek, from his ear to his jaw line, and the white of his teeth was visible through the torn flesh. Screaming in rage and agony, Marty grabbed Julie by the arm and jammed his blade up into her belly, just above her navel.

"Oooooooooo," Julie moaned, her lips parted in an O of surprise. Miserable, unspeakable pain raged in her ruined midsection, but, remarkably, Julie's intense desire to live still burned strong. Ignore the knife in your belly. You're winning. You're doing damage and you're winning.

Marty had a hold on her left forearm, but she maintained a slight margin of wiggle room with her wrist. Julie gritted her teeth and swiped at Marty's lower arm, severing his extensor muscles with her blade. His grip spoiled, he shoved her back, using the hunting knife in her gut for leverage. Marty clamped down on his wounded arm with his one remaining good hand and watched Julie tumble back into Carlos' awaiting arms.

Carlos had returned from the kitchen with a sixteen inch carving knife in one hand and a meat cleaver in the other, and as Julie fell backwards into him he plunged the carving knife into the center of her back. He felt some resistance as the steel cut through Julie's flesh and organs, but it slid clean through to the handle, the tip jutting from Julie's upper abdomen beneath her sternum.

Julie's mouth gaped and her brow crinkled. Her stomach was pierced, spilling digestive juices all over her insides. As the acid burned and ate away at her organs, Julie vomited a mouthful of blood.

"She got Ruben," Carlos remarked, seeing the boy lying on his back with both hands pressed to his throat.

"Yeah, bitch is a scrapper," Marty agreed.

Carlos yanked on the carving knife, pulling it part way out of Julie's body. It seemed to get hung up on something, and Julie was twisting on the blade, making it difficult to retrieve. Another rough tug freed the knife from her flesh, and he jammed it back into her, up in her right rib cage. Eight inches of steel progressed into Julie's chest, puncturing her already damaged lung, but Julie was turning around to face Carlos as he stabbed her, and in the process her ribs closed on the blade and snapped it off inside her.

Carlos dropped the now useless knife handle and backed away just in the nick of time as Julie swiped at him with her butcher knife. The blade slashed through the air mere centimeters from his face, and he had to bend backwards to avoid being cut. But Julie was fading, and her legs were unstable. The attack caused her to lose her balance, and she stumbled forward and fell to her right knee, placing her right hand on the floor to brace herself. Hoping to finish the girl off, Carlos swung his meat cleaver in a downward arc, and Julie just managed to raise her left arm in defense. Instead of her chest or neck being split open, the cleaver cut through her forearm and bit into her ulna. The blade wedged into the bone, and when Carlos yanked on it Julie's arm came with it.

Using the momentum to her advantage, Julie rose to her feet and pistoned her right arm forward. Her fist struck Carlos' adam's apple, closing his wind pipe. Had she a bit more strength, the blow might have been fatal, but instead it dropped Carlos to his ass, leaving him choking and gagging for breath while he swiped tears from his eyes.

Julie took hold of the meat cleaver now buried in her left arm and pried it loose. I don't think we've ever used this thing before. Who'd have guessed the only meat it would cut would be mine? she thought with sick amusement. She had just dropped the meat cleaver and was switching the butcher knife to her right hand when Marty slammed into her like a linebacker blitzing on a quarterback's blind side.

The pair went down, Julie twisting so she could land on her side and avoid putting pressure on any of the numerous projectiles in her body. The impact dislodged the butcher knife from her grip, and when her shoulder met with the floor she saw stars. Her awareness returned with gut wrenching agony as Marty tore the hunting knife from her midsection, where it was still imbedded. He twisted the blade viciously as he withdrew it, carving up her abdominal wall, and Julie wailed through a mouthful of blood.

Marty made to stab her again in the stomach as Julie struggled against him. "No," she gulped, placing her hand in front of the blade, but it was a thin defense. Marty mercilessly pushed the knife through her left palm, and then into the tender belly behind it. It punctured the lower right quadrant of her middle, below her navel, eliciting a low cry of despair.

God, he's killing me. Julie's desperation grew as her chances of survival dwindled. Acting on an impulse, when Marty wrenched the blade free of her guts Julie clamped her perfect teeth down on Marty's shoulder and bit down with everything she had. Soft flesh came loose in her mouth, blood spurted into the back of her throat, and Marty howled like a banshee. Julie turned her head and spat out a chunk of meat, grimacing at the thought of having any part of this vile creature inside of her, then wiped her lips with her blood soaked hands and pushed Marty away. Freed from the bastard's deadly embrace, Julie scrambled to her knees and searched for her knife.

While Marty grappled with Julie, Carlos was busy recouping from the blow to his throat. Wiping away tears and sucking in breath in ragged, harsh, gasps, he looked on in amazement as Julie took a chunk out of Marty's shoulder. God that girl was a fighter. It wasn't until Julie rose to her knees, leaving Marty a sobbing, mangled wreck, that Carlos realized he had to act, and act now. Julie was looking to arm herself, and given the opportunity she would do to Carlos what she had already done to Ruben and Marty. Carlos lunged forward and scooped up the meat cleaver, which he promptly buried in the side of Julie's right thigh.

Julie cried out and moved both her hands to the damaged leg, not quite touching the torn flesh or the instrument impaling it. Carlos didn't wait for a reaction. Instead he grabbed the fallen butcher knife and drove it into Julie's lower back, running it right through her until the point emerged from her belly an inch below her navel.

For Julie this was her breaking point. It suddenly sank in that she was dying. Her world caved in on her, everything collapsing in one massive avalanche of shit. All her mental toughness and iron clad will melted away like a dusting of snow on a warm Spring day, and she gave voice to a haunting sound. It wasn't quite a wail, it wasn't quite a scream, it wasn't quite human. It sounded foreign even to her own ears, something her vocal chords couldn't possibly have produced.

As she sat wallowing in terror, Carlos removed the butcher knife from her flesh, but before he could stick it back in her, Marty lunged forward and back handed Julie with all the force he could muster. Although he was still in the early stages of puberty, not yet fully grown, his rage fueled a walloping blow, and Julie was knocked flat on her back, driving the bolts protruding from her flesh up through her body.

"Ya cunt," he barked.

Julie didn't care. Her bowels defecated and her bladder emptied, creating a foul stench, but this didn't concern her either. They say you shit yourself right before you die, she thought. You're just gone. Forever. Tom's voice echoed in her head - It's just like before you were born, but you don't have life to look forward to. This thought consumed her, eradicating all other would be comforts, making rational thought impossible.

Marty knelt over her, staring down with sadistic hate, and Carlos knelt behind her, watching her life fade away with awestruck horror. As if her pain and suffering were not up to his liking, Marty repeatedly plunged his hunting knife into Julie's belly, stabbing her four more times. Each time he brutally rammed the blade home, pushing it in as far as it would go, Julie jerked and spasmed beneath him, her toes curling, her blue eyes wide with shock, her lips red with blood.

"Marty, stop," Carlos murmered. "She's dying. Just stop."

Marty's hard, brown eyes glared up at him, and for a moment Carlos thought Marty meant to jump on him and cut his throat, but then his shoulders slumped and resignation set in. Marty began to relax.

"The bitch," Marty breathed, and then they both just looked at Julie as her life wound down to its horrible conclusion.

When it finally ended, Julie's eyes bugged out and she grabbed hold of Carlos' shirt. "Carlos," she said clearly, then her eyes turned glassy and distant, her arm fell by her side, and she lay still.

"Holy shit, did ya see the look in 'er eyes?" Marty said excitedly.

That look, coupled with Julie's last words, would haunt Carlos for the rest of his days. Right up until he fried on the electric chair, several years later.


I don't suppose you could do all three? I have more ideas, those are just the main ones.


I don't think I'll do all three, sorry. I might do the bath tub scenario if I get around to it, but for now I'll try to do the interrupted masturbation story.

Here's a story I posted around a year ago. One of my most sadistic tales.


Julie Tortured

Awakened by a splash of cold water, Julie took a moment to get her bearings. Her wrists were fastened by leather straps attached somewhere above her, pulling her hands out and high over her head, and her ankles were similarly strapped to the floor, granting her no wiggle room. And she was naked. These were the first things she noted as she clawed her way up to consciousness. Then she recalled how the previous night had ended.

She had just pulled up outside her house after a long night of work at Planet Fitness, and she had wondered at the dark van parked next door, but hadn't paid it enough attention. Had she been more cautious, perhaps she wouldn't have been caught off guard when a shadowy figure cloaked in black appeared from behind a bush and shoved a rag in her face. She had tried to struggle, but her attacker had been twice her size, and the element of surprise had yielded the advantage. Her body was enveloped by powerful arms, she couldn't get an angle to free herself, and the fumes from the rag had quickly put her to sleep.

Horror dawned as the peacefulness of sleep faded and Julie realized whatever was in store would not be pleasant. A man stood before her, stocky and tall, and in his hands he held the bucket with which he had just doused her. The water was freezing, and the temperature in the room was far below comfortable.

"Ah, you're awake, good. Now we can begin."

"Yeah, I'm awake, I'm soaking wet and freezing. What the fuck?"

"Yes, you do look cold." Julie realized she was shivering, although whether it was from fear or frost she could not be sure. The man reached out and flicked one of her nipples, which were hard as bullets. "I have the air in this room set to thirty degrees."

Julie was now noticing her surroundings for the first time. The room was more like a cell, with a low ceiling and steel walls on all sides. A reinforced steel door was bolted shut on the far side, and to her left was a stainless steel table with an array of pernicious devices spread out on top of it. Below her was a drain, and there were a few curious contraptions scattered here and there, whose functions Julie could only guess. She had a bad feeling she would learn what some of them do soon enough.

The man wore leather gloves, a leather jacket, thick jeans and heavy boots. He looked quite comfortable, and his sick smile seemed to confirm this. His face was blocky and brutish, with huge grey caterpillars over his dancing blue eyes, a jutting chin, and thin harsh lips. Creases lined his cheeks, and his black hair was speckled with patches of ash, indicating the onset of middle age. Julie hated him instantly.

"Of course you do," she replied sarcastically.

The man laughed at that. "We're going to have great fun, Julie," he told her.

I somehow doubt that, Julie thought. "What are we gonna do, play checkers?"

The man laughed even harder. "Maybe we will. For now I'm just going to soak in your beauty and let you get comfortable." He pulled up a metal stool and took a seat.

After several seconds of awkward silence, with the man staring at her with his creepy smile, Julie felt compelled to ask him, "You're gonna kill me, aren't you?" She tried to keep the fear out of her voice, but she thought it crept in just the same. The man gave no reply. After a time, Julie then asked, "How do you know my name? Have you been following me around and shit?"

The man continued to stare, continued to smile, and just when Julie thought he wouldn't answer, he said, "You caught my eye approximately six months ago, at Pinewood Mall. I've been preparing this arrangement ever since. Have you any idea how beautiful you really are?"

Julie knew she was beautiful - she heard it often enough. What she hadn't realized was that her beauty would land her in such a harrowing predicament. "You know, if you wanted to play a game of checkers with me, all you had to do was ask." Julie flashed a nervous smile.

"Poor, sweet girl," the man said, sounding almost sad.

For several minutes after that neither of them spoke. Julie shivered and trembled, her fair, smooth skin breaking out in goose flesh, and the man watched. After ten minutes of this, the man stood up and found a baseball bat lying on the floor. He took a full swing at Julie's flat, soft stomach, knocking the air from her and leaving a colorful bruise on her pale creamy flesh. Before she could recover, another powerful blow struck her right side, cracking several ribs. The man moved around to her flank and pelted her in the back several times, and then finished with a crushing blow to her left hip. Julie screamed in agony as her ilium fractured.

The man then retrieved his bucket and dipped it in a trough, which Julie saw was filled with ice water. "I'm going to wet you again," he said unsanctimoniously, and he did as he said.

Julie gasped for breath as the water hit her like a thousand knives. "Oh fuck! Holy shit, that shit's fucking cold."

"Yes, I imagine it is. Fear not, my girl. I won't allow you to die of hypothermia. In fact I have just the thing to warm you up." With that the man pulled a pair of industrial sized heat lamps over to where she was strung up, aimed one of them at her breasts and belly and aimed the other at her backside, and fired them up. He then went to the thermostat by the door, and Julie saw him raise the needle as high as it would go. Next he went behind her back to attend some unseen task, and Julie thought she heard the roar of a furnace.

The sudden warmth was a welcome change at first, but soon the heat went well past soothing and it began to burn. The man returned to his stool and removed his jacket and gloves. He watched Julie squirm as her torso began to redden and cook and sweat poured from her pores. "This is your idea of fun, huh?" Julie asked him with a grimace.

"Indeed, but we've only just begun."

"Oh joy. I can't wait to see what's next." Julie's sardonic wit was the only thing keeping her sane, as she became more and more certain the man intended to murder her. She hoped to make the most of whatever time she might have left.

"Soon enough," he told her, and she saw he had begun to sweat himself, although he was spared the intensity of the heat lamps. He waited five more minutes, and when Julie thought she could actually smell her own meat cooking, the man removed the heat lamps and lowered the thermostat. He went to the table and found a tray of pins and meat skewers and brought them over.

Her breasts were pliant and springy, perhaps slightly below average size for a sixteen-year-old girl, but gravity held no visible sway over them. They stood high and perky. The man cupped one, then slipped a pin into the upper areola of her left nipple. Julie winced but held her tongue, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of hearing her cry out. The man added another pin in the bottom section of her areola, and one to the left and the right. Then he lanced one straight through the nipple, from left to right. Julie chewed her lip and bared it all in silence, and the man provided similar treatment to her right nipple.

Glancing at the skewers, Julie asked, "Now you make Julie kabobs out of my tits? Is that right?"

"You catch on fast, but first..." The man went to the table and returned with a pair of welding gloves and a blow torch. He set to heating up the skewers until they were glowing red, then inserted one into the side of Julie's left breast and and pushed it through. Julie's mouth yawned in a silent scream. The pain was tremendous. She watched helplessly while the man did the same thing to her right breast.

When she was able to speak without screaming she said, "Because you gotta have symmetry, right?"

The man smiled his creepy smile, and then pushed a third piping hot skewer into her belly. He stuck her just above her navel and ran the tip clean through her back. The heat cauterized the wound even as it was opened, so little blood trickled from her impromptu piercings.

"Oh wow," she gasped. "I wasn't expecting that."

Still smiling, the man stabbed another skewer through her belly, below her navel this time. He then added one to the left and right of her navel, running her clean through each time. "For symmetry," he told her. "Now don't move, I'll be right back."

Julie waited as she was told, stunned into silence. She no longer had any doubts as to the man's intentions. Her brief young life was going to come to a gruesome end here, and it terrified her more than she had ever thought possible. Without warning, she felt the warmth of her urine spraying down her thighs and realized she was pissing herself out of fear.

"What happened here?" the man asked as he returned to her side. "Couldn't hold it?"

Embarrassed and humiliated, Julie could only mutter, "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it. That's why I have that drain."

Julie didn't know why she had apologized. The man was murdering her, for fuck's sake. Who cared if she got a little piss on his floor? Old habits, she guessed. Well, that and the maddening delirium of terror. She soon had something to take her mind off it, however.

Scorching hot iron pressed into the arch of her right foot, blistering her flesh. No longer concerned with dignity, Julie screamed shrilly, and when the iron was pulled away she thought she felt some of her skin go with it. Next she felt the red hot metal pressed against her firm left buttock, and she smelled the sickening aroma of her own burnt flesh. When the man moved around to the front of her she got a look at his latest instrument, and saw it was little more than an iron rod, heated to the point of branding cattle. He pressed it against the inside of her thigh and Julie heard her skin sizzle. "Ahhh," she gasped, and when the iron was removed she thought about the unseemly scars she would now have. You won't live long enough for it to scar, silly.

The man then rammed the iron up her anus, pushing it deep inside her. Julie cried and groaned in agony, writhing as much as her restraints would allow. The man watched her struggle for a moment, then relented. "Alright, alright, let's get all this metal out of you." He yanked the rod from her rectum, and then carefully removed the skewers from her tits and belly, and finally he removed the pins he had inserted in her nipples. "That better?"

Julie smiled tiredly and admitted, "A little, yeah. Can we not do that again?"

"I won't do that again, I promise. Now let's get you out of those restraints." Julie could scarcely believe her ears. Was he actually going to let her go? To her disbelief, he reached up and released her left wrist, then did the same for her right. She quickly realized her naïvety, however. He kept hold of her right arm after freeing it from its binding, and twisted it behind her back as she raked at his face with her left. She had no leverage and was easily brought to her knees, and her left arm was quickly snared and pulled behind her back alongside her right. "Feisty little bitch, aren't you."

"People say I have spunk."

"That you do."

Julie felt him wrapping and fettering her forearms together with rope, and when he finished he moved on to unstrapping her ankles. He freed her right ankle, but before freeing her left he tied her calves together. More rope than she thought necessary was wrapped and knotted around her limbs, and in the end her feet and hands were tightly bound together behind her back.

"I enjoy girls with spunk."

"Glad you like it." Julie managed a wry smile to accompany her sarcasm.

The man pushed her onto her stomach and lifted her like a suitcase, then carried her over to a system of pulleys next to the trough of ice water. "You're going for a dip." He fastened a clasp to the ropes that bound her and hoisted her into the air. Once she was positioned over the trough she saw drops of blood from her belly spoiling the crystal clear integrity of the water. Then she was submerged.

Although she had taken a deep breath before going under, the freezing water stole it from her in an instant. She struggled against her constraints and tried desperately to raise her head above the surface, but it was in vain. In a panic, she soon began to swallow water, and she became certain she was going to drown before the man even realized it. After forty-five grueling seconds, the man raised her out of the trough and she gasped deeply at the beautiful air, filling her lungs.

"Ready to go again?"

"Don't," Julie pleaded, "I'm gonna dro..." She was under again, without the benefit of a preparation breath this time. Again she struggled to keep her head above water, and again she failed. Her lungs burned, her whole body ached, and when she thought she was going to pass out she was pulled up once more. Hacking and wheezing, Julie spat out water and slurped at the air. The man looked at her, as if waiting for her to plead with him again. Remembering how well her pleas had worked last time, Julie switched tactics, "You wanna join me? It's not that col..." The man dropped her back into the trough before she could finish her quip, and this time he left her down so long she was certain this was it. Her bladder somehow found more urine to dispense, and indescribable terror stole through her entire being.

When at last she was pulled back above the surface, Julie was amazed at her relief. Although she would soon be dead and she had nothing but agony ahead of her, she realized that any sort of existence, no matter how bleak and painful, was better than non-existence. This time when the man looked at her, she kept her mouth shut.

"I suppose you've had enough," the man said, and he detached her from the pulley apparatus and carried her to some sort of warped bench, which bent upward in the middle at an awkward angle. He untied the rope that bound her ankles to her wrists, and instead bound her ankles to the legs on one end of the bench and her wrists to the other. This put a painful arch in her back, stretching her soft belly taut, and the wounds in her midriff expanded. It was not a comfortable position to be in.

The man asked her, "Are you a virgin, Julie?"

Realizing what came next, Julie blurted out, "I have aids."

The man chuckled. "No you don't. I believe you actually are a virgin. We'll see soon enough." He pulled down his pants and unsheathed his throbbing member, which he promptly inserted in her womanhood. There was no foreplay, no natural or artificial lubricants to ease the entry, so Julie's cunt was dry and rough, and she was a virgin, as the man had guessed. The sudden invasion of her most private of orifices was brutally painful, and she could not contain her gasps. The man was in her for nearly ninety seconds before he removed himself, his penis dripping with her blood. "I was right. I popped your cherry."

Speechless, Julie watched him wash himself off and pull up his pants. "Alright, let's get you back up in your harness." The man unstrapped her from the bench and put her back in her original restraints, so she was stretched out into a human X once again. Caressing her smooth, flawless cheek, he asked her, "Did you enjoy your first fuck?"

Humiliated, violated, horrified, and infuriated, Julie somehow maintained her composure and replied, "As a matter of fact I did. If you let me go, maybe we could do it more often."

The man smiled sadly, and moved away to his table. "I'm afraid your first fuck... will also be your last. But fear not. We still have some time together before we must say goodbye."

It was the first time the man had outright stated he intended to kill her, and although Julie had already deduced as much, it chilled her to hear him say it. She sent up a silent prayer to a deity in which she no longer had faith. God, please, I don't wanna die.

The man had retrieved a bull whip from the table, and he stood before her, brandishing it. "What are you, Indiana Jones or some shit?" she asked him. The whip lashed out, and with expert precision it struck her across the belly. The injury stung, but compared to what she had just endured it was child's play. It wasn't until the tenth lashing that she began to realize how the pain mounted, and by the fiftieth she was grunting with each successive strike. A patchwork of whelps and raised flesh lined her breasts and belly, and the man had even given her a few lashings on her pussy and thighs before he finished. Julie counted every time the man reared back and struck her, and she had reached one hundred when at last the man moved around behind her. "For symmetry," she panted.

And as the man went to work on her back and buttocks, he agreed. "For symmetry." True to his word, he dealt one hundred more lashes to her backside. For symmetry. Exhausted, the man returned to his stool with a bottle of water and drank heavily. "I must say, you are my toughest victim yet. All my other girls were a blubbering mess by this point. Your endurance is commendable."

"Thanks," Julie told him, maintaining her wry humor. "Are we gonna play checkers now, or what?"

The man chortled merrily. "Once I've rested, I'm going to electrocute you."

Julie grimaced. "That sounds... less fun. But you're not gonna kill me. Not yet, at least."

"Not yet," he agreed.

Julie wondered how long he would toy with her. How many different methods of torture were at his disposal? She supposed she would gladly endure anything he could throw at her, if the only alternative was death. As the man caught his breath, she decided she might as well try to talk her way out of this. "You know, if you really enjoy torturing me, you don't have to kill me. I mean, you could just keep me here, you know? Why fuck up a good thing?"

The man looked at her and said nothing.

It was maddening. Was he considering it? What was the bastard thinking? "What do you say? You can even fuck me, however you want. You want to rape me again, or you want me to be submissive. I'll suck your dick if you want." Julie heard the desperation creeping into her voice, and she hated it. Perhaps the man had spoke too soon. She was beginning to blubber after all.

The man was quiet for a time, and then he spoke. "I'm going to electrocute you now." He went to the table and returned with what appeared to be a car battery on a cart, to which a pair of steel rods were connected. He inserted one rod in her anus, which drew a whimper from Julie as her burns there were fresh and raw, and the other he inserted in her vagina. He then adjusted some nobs and Julie felt the current begin to course through her body, mildly discomforting at first. He soon moved the nobs again and mild discomfort escalated to jolts of throbbing pain. Before long he upped the voltage again, and Julie felt her body go tense as she began to fry. Everything burned. Her lips burned, her eyeballs burned, the webbing between her toes burned. She clinched her teeth as the nobs were adjusted once more, and her experience with pain reached heights which had she had previously thought unfathomable.

Not for the first time that day, Julie felt certain this was the end, despite the man's promise of holding more in store for her. This was too much punishment for her body to endure. No one could survive this. But as those thoughts fluttered through her head and she began to panic, the man turned the nobs down and it was the current that died, not Julie. Her teeth were still clinched, her body still terse, but she was alive. She looked down and saw tendrils of smoke rising from her orifices, and wondered just how badly she had been hurt. How close to death had she actually come. As she slowly began to relax, she wept uncontrollably. The man had apparently found her breaking point.

"Do you still want me to torture you every day? Would you be willing to go through that several times a day in exchange for your life?"

For Julie, it wasn't even a question. No matter how excruciating that had been, life was too precious to her. She sniffled, looked the man in the eyes, and gave him an emphatic, "Yes!"

"Impressive," the man said, with a raised eyebrow. "Do you enjoy being tortured?"

"I enjoy being alive."

"Pity," he told her, "that life is so fleeting, is it not?"

"Yes," she cried, "it is."

"You are quite the stalwart girl, Julie. I'm going to continue now."

"Are you still gonna kill me?"

The man didn't answer. Instead he retrieved a tray of needles and a pair of pliers from his table of tools, and he began inserting the needles beneath each of Julie's fingernails and toenails. It was painful, but meek in comparison to what she had already endured. It was worse when he began peeling off her nails with the pliers. Once all her fingernails and toenails had been removed, the man picked up a sledge hammer and pounded it against her spine. Julie yelped and arched her back, pushing her tortured young breasts out and up.

The blow was measured and restrained, so as not to break her back, but Julie felt a disc slip. She was trying to cope with this excruciating new pain when the hammer shattered her right kneecap. Julie screamed, and the man smashed her left foot, then put the hammer down. It took a minute for Julie to stop sobbing and regain her composure, and the man waited patiently. She wondered if she'd ever be able to walk again if the man were to let her go, but that was a moot point. She was going to die here, no question about it. When she blinked away her tears she saw that he now held a pair of gardening shears.

"Things are going to get a bit messy from here on out," he told her.

This time Julie held no witty response for him. She sensed her end was drawing near.

The man moved behind her and took a snip at her ear. He didn't sever anything, but he left an inch long gash in the cartilage and flesh. Julie felt the tackiness of her blood in her hair and the warmth of it trickling down her neck. The man took off her left ring finger at the second knuckle, then shortened her right index finger at the first knuckle. He cauterized both wounds with a welding torch, then removed her pinky toe on her right foot and did the same for it.

"You having fun yet?" he asked her, setting aside the shears.

"Great time," Julie gasped miserably.

"Well before I go any further," the man said as he picked up a butt plug lined with cruel metal barbs, "I have to make sure you don't shit yourself."

"Naturally," Julie answered. She felt the plug slide inside her ruined anus, and the barbs took hold. It would not be easily removed. The man then picked up a straight razor and made a few cuts on Julie's left forearm, then a few more on her right. He made three horizontal lacerations on her left breast, then her right, and six more on her belly, three on each side of her navel. He left four similar cuts on each of her thighs.

"Gotta keep that symmetry," Julie told him with a grim smile, neglecting to mention the lack of symmetry with her severed digits.


"What's next?"

"Next I'm going to open up your belly and show you your intestines."

Julie gulped. "Sure you don't wanna do something else?"

The man wheeled a machine over in front of her, and told her, "I'm afraid not."

"What's that thing for?" Julie asked, eyeing the contraption he set before her. It was a simple rig, with a bar about waist high and a small engine at the base.

"You'll see." Without warning, the man shoved a knife into Julie's tummy and began slicing through the skin and fat and muscle of her abdominal wall. He made a vertical slit just to the right of her navel, not too wide. He then inserted a hooked metal pole through the incision, and Julie could feel him prodding around in her bowels before he retrieved a slippery pink snake from her gut.

Julie watched it all unfold with her blue eyes wide and her mouth agape. "Oh fuck," she muttered. "Fuck fuck fuck. Those are my intestines." Her voice rose shrilly, and for just a moment she felt her mind slipping into a bottomless pit of panic, but she reeled herself back in.

The man took the loop of loose viscera and slipped it over a nail on the machine he had brought over. He then flipped a switch and the bar began to turn, ever so gradually, and it wasn't long before Julie felt the tug on her plumbing. "This machine will slowly disembowel you." The man had spatters of her blood all over him, but he spoke with as if he was addressing a classroom of pupils instead of his murder victim. "It can take up to forty-five minutes for it to completely remove your colon."

"Nice," Julie replied wryly, "So what will we do while I..." Julie winced, "spill my guts?"

"I can think of a few things." The man went back to his table and retrieved a battery powered drill.

"Oooo, you're gonna drill me." Julie was still trying to maintain her sanguine spirit.

The man squeezed her firm, round right buttock, and the drill bit went into the meat with relative ease, chewing up her finely toned flesh and causing the girl to writhe in her restraints and arch her back slightly. Then the bit came out of her as easily as it went in.

"Drilled me right in the ass," Julie told him with a rueful smile, teetering on the edge of hysteria.

The man moved on to her right foot, punching a hole right through the center of it. Next was her left shoulder. Then her left thigh. Meanwhile, nearly four feet of intestines had wrapped themselves around the pole in front of her. The man paused to look at her.

"You done?" Julie asked.

"With the drill, I think so."

"Good. So forty-five minutes, huh?" Julie eyed her loose bowels, "I must have a lot of plumbing in me."

"Surprisingly so. Women have a slightly longer colon than men. You keep a good twenty-five feet of intestines coiled up in your belly, perhaps more."

"Yeah? Not anymore. I'd say I'm down to about twenty feet now."


"So, can we watch me get disemboweled in pieces now... I mean in peace?"

The man smiled creepily. "I like you Julie. You're the most interesting girl I've ever killed."

"Well you haven't killed me yet. Wudduya say you put my guts back inside me and drive me to a hospital? Then we can be besties."

"We won't be doing that, I can assure you."

"Darn. You know I keep trying to come to terms with this dying thing, but it's harder than I thought."

"That's too bad."

"Yeah, too bad," Julie agreed. They were quiet for a time after that, murderer and murder victim, each watching as more and more of Julie's insides came unraveled. When nearly twelve feet of guts were out of her, nearly half her colon, Julie spoke up, "God this is so nerve-wracking. Maybe we could talk or something?"

The man only stared at her, as if he were mute.

"Come on, you can't be a creep all the time. Lighten up for a minute and just talk to me."

The man continued to stare.

"Tell me something about yourself. Have you always been turned on by shit like this?"

The man remained silent.

"Are you gonna jerk off all over my dead body when this is over?"

The man didn't reply.

"No? Nothing? Is it tough? Being into snuff and shit, I mean. I bet everyone thinks you're weird and it's hard to fit in."

No response.

"Have you killed a lot of girls before me?"

Still the man held his tongue.

"Yeah, alright, good talk." Julie paused before adding, "Fuck, this fucking sucks so bad!"

The man watched and waited.

The silence was unnerving - the sounds of her blood dripping on the floor, the motor quietly turning the evisceration machine, the soft squish of her intestines sliding out of her tummy and wrapping around the bar in front of her - so Julie continued to blab. "I shouldn't have bothered with Mr. Dryers' research paper last six weeks. And all that studying I did to get an A in Advanced Algebra. For what? So I could end up like this?"

The man finally spoke up, "You got an A in Advanced Algebra?"

"You surprised? I'm a smart girl. I had a good life ahead of me. Who knows what I could've accomplished if you didn't murder me."

"This is the greatest purpose you could have possibly served."

Julie scoffed. "What, helping you get your rocks off? I don't think so. No offense, but my life is more important than your orgasm. This is a total waste. I might've cured cancer, or maybe I'd have just worked in an office somewhere, but shit, anything would be better than this."

"Human beings are a cancer. Your death helps prevent it from spreading."

"It was tough on you, wasn't it? Being ostracized. Always feeling like a freak or a misfit. People can be real assholes, but we're not all assholes."

"Easy for you to say. People are always nice to the pretty girls."

"That's bullshit. Boys are only nice to me as long as they think there's a chance we can bang. Girls... they're either jealous bitches or they just kiss my ass so I can introduce them to the boys they like. And we always have to be on the lookout for guys like you."

"You're not doing a very good job of making your case."

"What case?"

"That people aren't all assholes."

"Oh yeah. It's hard to stay focused when you're being disemboweled. So look," Julie chewed her lower lip, she was probably down to about eight feet of intestines left in her belly, "people can be shallow and insensitive and ego-centric and self-centered, sure, but they can also be generous and courageous and honest and kind. It's not totally hopeless." She thought she might be reaching him. Perhaps there was a spark of humanity left in the man, and it might not yet be too late for her.

The man moved toward her, and Julie felt a glimmer of hope, until he picked up a skewer and plunged it into her right breast. She watched as her chest devoured the stainless steel, and it went so deep that she knew it had punched clean through her back. Before she could get a word out he did the same for her left breast, and drawing breath suddenly became extremely difficult.

"Up until now your wounds were not fatal. If left untreated, they would certainly kill you, but you were not beyond help. I've now punctured both your lungs, and you are dying. We're a hundred miles from civilization, and twenty miles from the nearest paved road. This is the point of no return. Nothing can save you now. Would you still like to tell me how great people can be?"

"People suck," Julie managed with a grim half-smile. "But what are you, some kind of medical expert? People have survived punctured lungs before."

"True, and if the puncture isn't too severe it might even heal on its own, but both your lungs are pierced, and this is not a minor breach. You require immediate medical attention, but we're hours from the nearest hospital, and I highly doubt any paramedics will come bursting through my door right now."

"Did you do that because I was giving you hope in humanity? You were afraid I might change your mind about killing me?"

"You continue to amaze me, Julie. Not only is your fortitude remarkable, you're truly the wisest sixteen-year-old I've ever encountered."

"Told you I was a smart girl. So I guess that's a yes?"

"I'm going to remove those skewers now. Your lungs will begin to deflate and fill up with blood."


The man did as he said, and it felt as if her chest was being crushed. She let out a harsh, wheezing cough and saw droplets of blood spray from her lips. "So, in your expert opinion, will I live long enough to finish watching my guts get yanked out?"

"I expect you could survive the next hour, maybe longer, although I'll be inflicting more injuries in that time."

"Great. Can we keep talking for a minute? Oooooo, maybe not." Julie grit her teeth as she felt extreme discomfort in her abdomen. "I think we might be reaching the end of my digestive tract. Something large is about to be dislodged."

The man flipped a switch and the motor died and the bar stopped turning. Julie estimated there was at least twenty feet of her entrails wrapped up in front of her. The man loosened the coil by rotating the bar in the opposite direction, and unhitched her from the nail. Then he wheeled an IV machine over and inserted an IV into her intestines. "This is Drano. It's going to cause irreversible damage to your gastrointestinal tract." He paused, as if expecting a witty retort, but Julie couldn't muster the strength to reply this time. She had been so close to reaching him, to breaking through the monster to the man inside. If only she had more time. "I'm going to need to open you up a bit more now."

The man took his knife to her belly and slit her wide open. Julie gaped at her exposed organs as gouts of blood and gore spurted from her stomach. The man went to work sealing off blood vessels with surgical string and his welding torch, and when he was finished he retrieved a funnel and a jar of finely crushed glass shards. He stuck the funnel into her stomach and poured some of the shards through it.

Julie was left marveling at this new level of cruelty as the man hefted her intestines from the bar and stuffed them back into her open abdominal cavity. He then used a staple gun to close her back up.

"Jesus," Julie gasped, once she had regained her powers of speech. "What did you do to me?" Blood filled the back of her throat and spilled over her lush lips, dribbling down her chin and trickling from the corners of her mouth.

"I filled your stomach with broken glass," the man told her as-a-matter-of-factly.

"That's some sadistic shit. How do you come up with this stuff?"

"Do you wonder why this is happening? How, out of all the people in the world and all the possible outcomes in life, I ended up with you in my dungeon?"

"You mean it's not fair, right? Life's a bitch, I guess," Julie answered, "and then you die. I wish life was a bitch a little longer though. How much time have I got now? Five minutes maybe?"

"I think you're underestimating your body's resiliency."

"I think my body's been pretty resilient, but goddam." Julie curled her lower lip and blew a lock of soft brown hair from her eyes.

"Your mind has been extraordinarily resilient, but aside from its appearance your body is not exceptional. Physically, you're holding up just as well as one would expect from a healthy sixteen-year-old girl. I've been careful not to exact any instantly fatal damage, although I still intend to test your durability."

Julie wondered what else he could do to her. Her entire body was a bright blinding light of pain. Her back was on fire, her belly burned like the worse cramps she had ever experienced magnified a thousand times over, her severed digits screamed at her, her knee was a ball of agony, her smashed foot ached, she had lacerations and abrasions and punctures too numerous to count that plagued her nerves, yet the man still had more in store?

Soon she no longer had to wonder, as the man turned a crank and Julie felt her bindings tighten, stretching her limbs and lighting a fire in her joints. Her broken hip and shattered knee cap plagued her the most, but the pain in her back seemed to intensify and the hole in her shoulder ripped open, splashing her cheek with fresh blood.

The man turned the crank again and Julie felt herself being ripped apart. She wondered if her arms and legs would separate first or if she'd come apart at the waist in a spectacular shower of gore. She grit her teeth and waited to see which would give first, but neither did. Instead several endless minutes passed and the man returned slack to her restraints.

Without permitting her any recovery time, the man made a noose appear from thin air, although Julie quickly realized it had been dangling above her head all along, and he slipped it around her neck and with a flip of a switch it began to tighten, closing off her windpipe. Her blue eyes bulged and her throat burned and her bladder loosened for the third time that day, and the man watched with silent amusement.

Time passed and her vision began to blur, her face turned purple, and she realized this was truly the end. Her final test. The world went gray, and then dark.

She did not expect to wake again, but she did. She was able to draw hoarse gasps of air into her ruined lungs, and after a moment she noticed the noose was gone. She wondered how long she had been out. Her tummy clenched and burned with all the fires of hell, and blood filled her mouth. The Drano in her bowels doing its work, or the glass in her stomach, or both.

As awareness gradually returned, she saw that she was no longer restrained. Rather, she was flat on her back, and the man was on top of her, raping her again. Has he noticed I'm awake. Julie didn't think he had. He seemed lost in the throes of his sexual experience. Perhaps he even believed her to be dead. It was the best chance she would get. Likely the only chance. With a twist and a lunge she was able to grasp the iron bar that had violated her anus earlier, and before the man could react she bashed in his temple.

He dropped like dead weight, and Julie wondered if she had killed him. It was entirely possible, but either way he was incapacitated. Julie drug herself across the floor to the man's stool, where he had sat and admired her beauty and watched her suffering, and she used it to pull herself to her knees. In an inhuman display of willpower, she pushed herself to her feet. It should not have been possible, but she took a step forward, and then another. Her knee was shattered, her foot was smashed, her hip was fractured, but still she walked. Pain was all she knew - torturous, agonizing, horrible pain - but her will to live overruled it all, and she staggered to the exit.

Five bolts secured the door, and removing them all was arduous and tedious work in Julie's condition, but she eventually managed, and when she was finally able to swing it in on its hinges, she was bathed in warm glorious sunlight. Stepping outside, she saw that she was surrounded by barren desert, and as the man had indicated, there was no sign of civilization in the immediate vicinity. A dirt road led off into the distance, and although there was no sign of the dark van she had spotted outside her house the previous night, a jeep was parked not twenty feet from the compound. Would the keys be inside? She could only hope.

Sharp rocks and thorned twigs gouged the soles of her feet, but after all she had endured it was like the tickling of feathers to her. I think I might actually make it. I could actually survive this. If the keys aren't in the jeep I might have to go back and search the man's body, but I can do this. I'm going to drive the fuck outta here. She was several feet from the front door when she was shot in the back.

The bullet drilled clean through her, leaving a neat circular exit wound to the left of her navel, and Julie paused to examine it. A second round quickly followed the first, and she saw the second exit wound open up in the right side of her belly. I guess I didn't kill him. I should have made sure to finish the job. Julie managed another step forward before a third bullet chased her, leaving an exit wound closer to center but a little above her belly button.

Just keep moving and you're home free. Another step followed by another gun shot wound, and yet another hole in her smooth soft tummy. Her feet got tangled and she fell to her knees, and another slug bit into her back below the right shoulder blade, exiting her firm right breast. Where she found the strength was beyond her, but somehow she rose again to her feet. Another step and another gunshot wound, this time in her left buttock.

The jeep was a mere ten feet away, almost close enough to touch. Julie lurched forward as a bullet tore through her left thigh. Then she cringed as she caught another round with her left calf. Teetering, her balance abandoning her, Julie threw herself at the jeep... and caught the handle. A press of the button and the door swung open, and in the ignition, dangling like a beacon of light, were the keys. Oh thank God. Julie no longer believed in God, but she thanked Him anyway. Perhaps her lack of faith was well-founded, however, as a hand clamped down on her left elbow when she tried to climb into the driver's seat.

"No," she cried as the man yanked her away from salvation and dragged her back to the compound. Blood was trickling down the side of his head and one of his eyes looked murky, but he was strong as ever. Julie ended up back on his concrete floor, the man straddling her, and he went to work on her with a knife.

With a stab and a slash he opened her belly again, with much less care this time, and he began squeezing and pulling on things that Julie was certain she needed to live. When he wrangled her intestines, which were already dissolving thanks to the Drano IV, Julie felt the shit literally being squeezed out of her, but her butt plug prevented its escape, making for quite a discomforting feeling. After a time he tired of this activity and found a vial to funnel through the new slit in her gut, which he later explained contained a powerful sulfuric acid.

Julie was now vomiting thick black globs of blood and glass, and blood poured from her nostrils, so she was unable to immediately offer up any witty replies.

"How does that feel, you crazy cunt?"

The man then pinched her left nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pulled it upwards into a cone, and sliced it off with his knife. He did the same for her right nipple, and Julie managed to croak, "For symmetry." It was the last thing she ever said before the man clamped onto her tongue with a pair of pliers and carefully cut it out of her mouth.

"I was wrong about you," the man told her. "Your physical resiliency is astounding. Improbable and astonishing. But this is the end. The coupe de grace." He took a can of gasoline and splashed some across her belly, then spilled more inside her abdomen to mix with the acid. She watched in horror as he struck a match and dropped it on her, setting her tummy ablaze. While she burned the man knelt down and stabbed her thrice in each breast, guiding the knife through her ribs to the tortured lungs beneath, but when the flames died Julie still lived.

Smoke billowed from her lips while she opened and closed her mouth like a fish, and her stunning blue eyes were wide as she stubbornly staved off her inevitable death. "You incredible bitch," the man told her. "How are you not dead?" But Julie felt herself slipping. Her brain and her heart were the only vital organs that weren't irreparably damaged, and one willed the other to keep pumping life blood through her ruined body - never had anyone of so strong a will wanted anything more than Julie wanted to live at that moment - but it was no longer enough. Her heart was stuttering and her brain was shutting down. No! No, I don't want to die! She looked at the man and the man looked back at her, and her final seconds ticked away.

When she was finally dead the man sat down and slipped into a coma from which he never awoke. Julie had concussed him, and although it did her no good, she effectively ended his reign of terror.


These stories are utterly fantastic. Please keep them coming!


Incredible. I love your character of Julie and the way you write. The situations and stories you come up with hit everything I love in Guro

Personally however I like to imagine she is a little older than what you write. However the all context is the same. Keep writing. Im always going to look forward to whatever you do!


Julie's Anatomy Lesson

Julie was eight years old when she had her first encounter with death. A boy in her class named Vinny had failed to make grades, and one day he was there, picking his nose and playing tag in the playground, and the next he was just gone. Since he failed honestly and was thus spared a public execution, Julie did not witness his death, nor did any of her classmates, but they were all duly informed of his execution, and her instructor was quick to point out that it had been painless. This, however, did not dampen the poignancy of his absence in her classes, and the finality of death made its impression on her.

She obsessed over it for months after that, her mind continuously returning to an interaction she had with the boy in the second grade. Julie had been a portly girl at that age, not fat but chunky, and most of the other kids ridiculed her relentlessly, calling her thunder thighs or tubby or bubble butt. Had she been born fifty years earlier, she might have been spared this torment. In those days students attended school from home and interacted with each other as they would a teevee. The system worked beautifully until a hacker known as Quantom developed software that "attended" school for you, aced your tests, did your homework, and allowed you to play hookie and still pass with flying colors. Alas, virtual classrooms were scrapped in favor of traditional schooling, and students had to trudge off to schoolyards where bullies were given free reign.

One day, after a particularly nasty confrontation that left Julie steaming with hot red cheeks and tears in her eyes - eyes which were as enchanting and captivating as ever; sparkling blue jewels that shimmered with intelligence and vivacity and expression - Vinny had taken her hand, wiped away her tears, and smiled at her so sweetly that she was instantly filled with good cheer, her troubles forgotten. That boy, who had been so warm and kind and thoughtful, was now gone forever. She found it simultaneously terrifying, fascinating, and strangely exhilirating.

Her next encounter with death came at the age of thirteen. A fifteen year old blonde girl from Parker High, a school across town, had been caught cheating on an exam. They said her name was Taylor Henning, but that no longer mattered. Once they caught her cheating, she was nothing more than dead meat walking. They put her in the pit, and the event was broadcast in Julie's school as a warning against immoral behavior.

Taylor was a well built girl, her waist trim and lean but with a strong core, wonderfully bouncy, budding young breasts bulging from her chest, and thick, well-toned legs that culminated in firm, shapely buttocks supporting her base. She was sent into the pit naked, as was custom, and a pack of five dodgerines, an aptly named genetic invention that took most of its traits from bulldogs, badgers, and wolverines, was set loose on her. They stood just over one foot tall and measured twenty inches in length, and the brutal inefficiency of the creatures was both horrifying and astonishing. They were bred and trained to not outright kill their prey, but rather to focus the brunt of their considerable wrath on their victim’s soft underbelly.

They converged on this poor girl and did what they were designed to do. In the blink of an eye they had ripped her midsection open and spilled a feast of guts at her feet. Although there was no hope, Taylor fought them for her insides with admirable pluck and grit. As she tried to scoop up bits and pieces of her entrails she received vicious bites and deep gashes on her arms and hands, but she didn't stop until she lost a couple fingers to the cause. Blood sprayed and spurted grotesquely, soaking these vile engines of death in gore. Eventually losing the strength to combat them, Taylor sat and watched helplessly as her insides were gobbled up, and Julie saw it all unfold in 3D technicolor. It took over thirty minutes for the blonde girl to finally die, and it was horrific.

No one spoke out against the violence; Julie and her classmates all pretended that what they saw was just, for fear of arousing suspicion and earning a similar fate. Life was cheap, particularly at their age when they had yet to contribute anything to society, and they could be frivolously disposed and discarded.

It hadn't always been this way, but ever since the human race's mastery of the genetic processes responsible for aging, the government of Pandora had taken prohibitive measures to maintain a sustainable population. All female residents were required to partake in a procedure that would halt their menstrual cycles indefinitely, and when the population reached a certain level women were allowed to apply for the right to procreate. A predetermined number of offspring would be permitted, and at the appropriate age they would begin schooling. In order to ensure these children became productive members of the community, those with incurable birth defects were killed outright, and any who failed to make grades were quietly and efficiently eliminated.

This presented an obvious problem, in that death was a particularly undesirable condition, especially since religion had gone the way of the dodo, and children were prone to do whatever was necessary to avoid it. Thus, a deterrent even more unappealing than the death that awaits failure was needed to combat cheating. It was left up to each school district to resolve this issue as they saw fit, resulting in some imaginative, and excruciatingly painful methods of execution, and in most cases these inventive killings were performed in public as an example to others.

That aside, life in Pandora was surprisingly pleasant. People remained youthful and in good health - the oldest known resident was well over seven hundred years old, and had the appearance of a man in his twenties - and modern medicine had conquered cancer, heart disease, brain damage, and all sorts of less serious illnesses. Violent crime was rare, and poverty was non-existent. It was a wonderful time and place to be alive, provided you made the cut. Fortunately, Julie needn't worry. She was no genius, but she was a bright girl, her father owned a chain of thirty-seven restaurants, and her mother was a world renowned actress. They were an exceedingly wealthy family.

This provided solace in the coming nights when she repeatedly woke from horrid nightmares in which she was brutally slaughtered in a variety of fashions. Invariably, upon awakening she would masturbate until reaching the most intense orgasms. Julie never could understand why, but the image of that blonde girl dying in gruesome agony not only haunted her dreams but fueled her libido immensely. She would imagine herself in that situation, facing the horror of imminent death and prolonged amounts of pain, and it drove her mad with lust.

Julie’s third and final encounter with death came at the age of sixteen, and it is this encounter with which this tale concerns itself.

"God, you're beautiful."

"God's a mythological construct, no more real than fairy godmothers or vampires."

"Funny how certain phrases stick with us, even after the meaning behind them is outdated and obsolete. You are beautiful, though."

It was true, Julie’s baby fat melted away with the arrival of puberty, and in its wake stunningly sensual, feminine curves were formed. Her face developed into a mesmerizing spectacle of such extraordinary radiance, most of the boys in her school could not peel their eyes off her. Never-the-less, Julie remained humble and grounded, remembering her younger years when she had been ostracized and targeted by bullies. It was this humility, coupled with her appreciation for the plight of the disfavored that led to an unlikely friendship with this short, unfortunately proportioned boy named Philip.

Julie giggled and blushed. “You’re sweet.”

“I’m tired, let’s take a break,” Phil said.

“Okay,” Julie agreed, and she tossed the basketball through the hoop one last time, then let it bounce and roll up against the wall of the gym. Her father had built this gym for her because she so loved the thrill of sinking jump shots, and she and Philip were just wrapping up a friendly game of one on one. A game dominated by Julie, naturally. “So what do you wanna do?”

“Let’s go back to your room, watch some teevee or something.”

For Julie, "watching teevee" meant strapping into a chair equipped with cybernetic goggles and neuro censors, and immersing oneself in a virtual world that was almost indistinguishable from reality. One could either become a part of this deceptively authentic existence, or simply be a silent observer. Julie usually chose to interact, preferably with an environment packed with action and brimming with extreme peril. Today, however, she deferred to Philip. "What do you feel like watching?"

"I don't know, you feeling adventurous?"

Julie beamed, "Always!"

"How about one of those classic Westerns?"

Genuinely delighted, Julie agreed, "I love it."

Part of the interactive experience involved signals transmitted neurologically to the participant’s brain, thoroughly immersing them in this fantasy life. While subconsciously the mind was aware that what it was perceiving was not true, thus preventing the participant from suffering any physical damage, the experience was practically seamless. The participant would be furnished with a full set of memories suitable to the program they’ve chosen, superseding their real life experience, although their personal quirks and feelings would remain. Julie found herself transformed into an orphan girl turned outlaw, forced to rob banks and turn the occasional trick to make ends meet. Phil was her childhood friend who chose to cut ties and run with her when she struck out on her own in this cold, harsh world. And so their program began.

“You ready?” Julie wore her hat low on her brow, shielding her angelic face when she tilted her head, a creamy white corset accentuated her ravishing figure, and a beige skirt hung down to her knees. Twin colt revolvers dangled from hips, and a menacing smile played upon her lips.

“Let’s do it,” Phil nodded, his boorish stature clothed in rigid jeans, hardened by dust, a beige shirt and a tan leather duster. He wore his hat in similar fashion, and he had a Winchester rifle slung over his shoulder and .45 at his waist. The pair strolled into the First National Bank of Tombstone as fearless and bold as a pair of honey badgers, and Julie pulled leather on the teller before he even knew she was there. She tossed a couple of burlap sacks through the window at him.

“Fill ‘em up,” she demanded, a command that went unquestioned. The only other patron in the bank was a middle aged woman whom Phil held at gun point, and she did not appear too keen on causing them any trouble. This is going perfectly, Julie thought, her heart thundering in her chest. While she knew stealing was wrong, it gave her a certain thrill, the articulation of which was difficult to pin down. The closest she could come was that it made her feel... alive.

The teller passed back two bags filled with gold bars, which Julie tossed to Phil, who in turn slung them over his shoulder. The teen bandits fled the bank, mounted up, and rode out of town without meeting any resistance. It was no coincidence that the sheriff was tracking a gunman who had killed two men in a card dispute the previous day, leaving his deputy in charge of keeping the law, a man noted for his honesty, not his bravery.

The next scene took place the following morning, at a creek fifty miles out of town where Julie and Phil made camp. For the viewers, this jump in time was fluid and indiscernible, as the program filled in the gaps in their memories accordingly.

"I'm going down to the creek to wash up," Julie remarked, stretching her hands over her head and arching her back in an awesome display of her exuberant young physique. Phil was cooking a breakfast of bacon and eggs over a small fire, and he paused to cast a hungry eye in her direction, then nodded stoically.

Stripping down naked once she was out of Phil's view, Julie waded into the cool, refreshing water and rinsed the dirt from her body. She dipped her neatly cropped, soft brown hair under the surface and combed her fingers through her silky locks, then splashed water in her face. Once she felt cleansed of the dust, she made her way to the creek bank and, without drying off, she slipped on her skirt, put on her boots, fastened up her corset, which was the fashionable sort, not the sort that sought to alter a woman's shape by squeezing her waist like a ripe piece of fruit, and fixed her holsters on her shapely hips. The intoxicating aroma of sizzling bacon wafted on the morning breeze, and Julie's stomach growled as she climbed the embankment.

"Is breakfast ready?" she called out just before breasting the acclivity, and immediately wished she could recant those words. Deputy Johnson, from the good town of Tombstone, and a posse of six men, occupied her camp site, and Phil was already fettered with ropes. The attention of the seven lawmen was now fixed squarely on Julie, thanks to her big mouth. Surrender was not an option, as that would surely result with her dangling at the wrong end of a rope, so she stood sharp, her pistols at her finger tips, and steadied her nerves. She had been in gunfights before, or so the program told her, and the key to coming out alive was to stay calm, keep a cool head, and pick your targets wisely. Sizing up the opposition, Julie focused her attention on a hard looking man saddled up on her right.

Fast as greased lightning she drew down and banged two shots through the man, knocking him off his mount. The response to her attack was faster than she had hoped, men on all fronts going for their guns. She turned to the man closest to her and put a bullet in his noggin, just above his right eye. This instilled doubt in at least two of the men, as they cut tail and ran, finding the sanctity of cover more appealing than a shoot out right here in the open. Encouraged, Julie picked out her next target, but as she pulled the trigger a slug punched through her right shoulder, spoiling her aim, and she only winged him. Still, her courage and accuracy had apparently spooked her opposition, as the next two shots they fired whined past her, missing their mark.

Wounded but not shaken, Julie put down two more men with a couple quick shots, one in the chest of Deputy Johnson and one in the cheek of the man next to him, leaving only Julie and the man she clipped in the clearing, but before she could finish him off she caught a round in the left side of her belly, succinctly followed by another in the right side of her belly. These shots did not come from the wounded man, but from the pair of cowards that had taken refuge when things got hairy. They now fired at her from behind a dune and behind a stone, leaving her without a clean shot to return fire.

Recognizing that she was outmaneuvered, Julie stumbled back and allowed herself to tumble down the embankment, coming to a rest beside the stream. "Shit, I can't believe I've been gut shot," she muttered as she drug her bleeding body into the water. Drawing a deep breath, she went under and let the current take her downstream. From somewhere far behind, the sound of gunshots could be heard, muffled by the creek, and then all she could hear were the sounds of the water rushing through the river bed, eroding the rock. Her lungs screamed for air, but she stayed down, not daring to surface. When it felt as though she would pass out from extreme oxygen deprivation, she forced herself to count to ten, then finally came up to breathe.

Looking back, she saw no sign of her pursuers, and the section of the stream in which she had bathed only minutes ago was nearly one hundred yards behind her now. Julie decided to ride the current for a while, as it was easier than walking and harder to track.

Again, the program skipped ahead, picking up with Julie pulling herself to her feet, some five miles down the shore from where she stood her ground against the lawmen. She peered down at the two holes in her stomach; both continued to spill blood down the front of her at a worrisome pace. The pain spawning from that region had originated as a numbing pressure, then slowly graduated to a dull ache, and now had escalated into something more akin to an unbearable, fiery furnace flaming in her guts. Back in reality, there were settings on her chair that adjusted the amount of sensory input one can feel while interacting with the teevee, and although the instructions strongly advised against it, Julie kept hers on par with real world sensations. This was due to her masochistic tendencies, as once she returned to her true reality she brought with her the memories of this pseudo existence, and the authenticity of her experience made her ensuing orgasms all the more pleasurable. Oblivious to the pleasant life and the pinnacle of sexual experience that awaited her, Julie was left in agonizing pain and hopelessly terrified.

Sloshing in her boots, she clutched herself and headed south, away from the stream. She had no horse, no hat, and she was likely bleeding to death, but she did not give in or give up. The town of Sierra Vista was some thirty miles from Tombstone. Perhaps there she could hide out and seek medical attention for her wounds. Her previous route, prior to the disastrous confrontation with Deputy Johnson, had taken her fifty miles west of Tombstone, which put her approximately fifteen or twenty miles north of Sierra Vista. She could conceivably reach town by nightfall. Something of a montage followed, tracking Julie’s arduous trek south through the desert. In a matter of minutes Julie travelled six miles, although to her manipulated mind this was equivalent to the passage of several hours wrought with suffering.

She had fallen to her knees for the umpteenth time and was struggling to rise back up, when an arrow whizzed through the air and embedded itself in her firm left buttock. Julie fell forward, bracing herself with her hands, and glanced over her shoulder. At least three Indians were fast approaching on horse back, two of them with arrows notched and their bows drawn. "Oh shit," Julie mumbled. She scrambled to her feet with a bit more urgency and limped forward as fast as she could, but she didn't get far before two more arrows stuck in her, one in her left hamstring and one in her lower right back. Arching her spine and reaching for these latest projectiles jutting from her flesh, Julie once again sank to her knees.

Still refusing to halt her inane attempt to flee, she shuffled forward on her knees. The clip clap of hooves thundering across the ground gained volume by proximity, and seconds before the horses galloped past an arrow struck her near the center of her back, just a little high and to the left. "Ahhhh," Julie cried out, her eyes widening in fear. The mounted natives circled their horses around in front of her, Julie noting that there were in fact four of these heartless killers, and two of them loosed arrows that found their mark in her soft, young teenage body, one narrowly missing her navel and the other thudding into her chest, just below her right breast.

"Please stop," Julie gasped, and a harsh cough sent blood spraying from her lips. Heedless of her pleas, another brave shot an arrow into her belly, then another. As the third arrow pierced her midsection, Julie drew iron with her right hand. She thumbed back the hammer and squeezed the trigger, but the pistol misfired. The damned ammunition was wet. "Huh," Julie grunted as she accepted an arrow in her upper abdomen, then another in her right breast. Squeezing the trigger again, Julie was rewarded with the crack of a pistol shot and one of the braves bit the dust.

It was little deterrent to his companions, who stood their ground and reloaded their bows. Julie tried the trigger again, and was met with another misfire. Further misfortune ensued, as three arrows thumped into her torso in rapid succession, two in the left side of her chest and one a couple inches above her belly button. Her strength left her and she slumped over, coming to a rest on her back, forcing the arrows in her posterior up through her body. She managed to lift her head high enough to watch the arrow tips poking their way through her abdomen and thigh, but the one in her upper back jammed up against her rib cage and the tail end snapped under her weight.

The three remaining braves seemed content with the damage they had inflicted and rode off for the horizon, leaving Julie to die. The next fifteen minutes were extremely unpleasant for her, choking on blood and wallowing in unimagineable mental anguish - she wasn't actually dying, but the program tricked her into believing she was. Vultures circled the sky, anticipating a bountiful banquet, and when they finally roused up the courage to land and begin picking flesh from her bones, Julie was not yet fully gone. Her consciousness lingered, rendering her alert enough to know that she had effectively been reduced to buzzard meat.

Then, from out of the blue, the report of a rifle shot carried across the desert, one of the buzzards exploded in a spray of feathers and blood, and the rest took to the air, chased from their meal. Julie was unable to lift her head and spot her rescuer, but she knew it was Phil who rode over to where she lie and dismounted. As he knelt beside her, Julie murmured, "They got me, Phil." Her body was a pin cushion, her belly had been pulled apart by hungry scavenger birds and a loop of intestines lay in the dirt, pecked from her guts.

"Sweet Jesus, Julie," Philip gasped.

Julie tried to speak, but words would not come. Instead she coughed up some blood and felt the focus go out of the world. I'm dying, was the last thought she had before the program ended and she awoke in her teevee chair back in reality.

"Holy shit, that was intense," Julie remarked, her shocking blue eyes peering over at Philip. She smiled, feeling tremendous relief wash over her as she realized that she was still alive and well, with very little possibility of any change in that condition for at least the foreseeable future.

"Fuck, that was crazy. Are you alright?" Philip answered her, genuine concern evident on his face.

Julie looked down at herself to confirm that she was in fact in one piece, even lifting her shirt to examine her smooth, flat belly. "Looks like it," she said. Mindful of the hungry look in Philip's eyes, and the warmth spreading through her loins, Julie pulled her shirt all the way up over her head and tossed it aside. Her breasts remained tassled beneath her sports bra, which she proceeded to liberate from their binding. "I'm nipply," she said with a giggle, and flicked her left mammilla to demonstrate this fact. With the coinciding decline of religion and STD's, modesty had decreased in importance while promiscuity gained popularity. Julie didn't give a second thought to offering up her body to this young friend of hers, despite the fact they were not engaged in a formal relationship.

Philip was equally lacking in restraint, as he lowered his trousers to expose a full erection.

Without a word, Julie followed suit and pulled her shorts down, inviting Philip to mount her right there on the teevee chair. There was no foreplay, no planning or questions asked, Philip climbed on top of her and slid inside her warmth, where she was already dripping wet. Julie moaned in delirium as she accepted his pulsing meat, her astonishing eyes rolling back in her head with transcendent rhapsody. Her hands went to her breasts, squeezing the flesh and pinching her pert nipples, and together their hips found a rhythm.

“Ahhh, ahhhhh, ahhhhh!” Julie cried with each thrust of her pelvis, the mounting pinnacle of human elation growing ever stronger, until her entire being seemed to explode with uncontainable delectation. “Oh fuck, oh fuck me!” Julie screamed, while Philip grunted with content satisfaction. They came in tandem, as so rarely occurs, and collapsed in each other’s arms. After some time, the teens awkwardly separated and dressed themselves.

“Wow,” Philip said breathlessly.

“That was… also intense,” Julie remarked, smiling.

“Right." That's when Philip noticed the position of the knob on Julie's chair. "Fuck, Julie, you had your teevee sensory input set to real life equivalency?”

“I can handle it, I’m a tough chick,” she told him, shrugging nonchalantly.

“I guess you are,” Phil replied. “So you know how that blonde chick felt, you know the one who got caught cheating?”

“Taylor Henning.”

“Was that her name?”

“It was.”

“How does it feel, fucking animals eating your insides, thinking you’re gonna die?”

“It’s hard to describe." Julie searched earnestly for the right words, "The pain is crazy, worse than you can imagine, but that’s nothing. The worst part is knowing that you’re dying. It’s just, so… utterly hopeless. It’s literally the end of fucking everything. You’re lying there, trying to wrap your head around the fact that each second you’re getting closer to your last, scared out of your mind. It’s enough to drive you insane. But then when you wake up in this chair, it’s such an incredible feeling, you feel so… so… sanguine. So alive!”

“Yeah, sanguine,” Philip said, smiling out of the corner of his mouth. “If that's what you wanna call it.”

Julie giggled. “Shut up, you fuck.”

Philip's smile faded as his mind drifted. “So I guess Taylor will never get to experience that, “sanguine,” feeling.”

This sobered Julie up. “No, I guess not.”

“Would you ever consider cheating?”

“If I knew I was gonna fail, I don’t wanna die, so sure,” a confession Julie wouldn’t dare make in the company of any other living soul. “I’d risk it... to at least have a shot at living.”

"What about cheating to help someone pass?"

"Would I risk my life for someone else?" Julie almost replied with a hasty hell no, but the thought of Vinny stopped her.

"Damn, well I guess it depends on who I'd be helping, and how sure I am that we wouldn't get caught."

"Okay, then let's say I'm failing Calculus, and I have a surefire way for you to send me answers on a quiz without getting caught."

"Then I'd say fuck yeah, I'd help you. We're still just talking hypothetically here, right?" Julie raised her eyebrows. "You're not gonna suddenly disappear on me, are you?"

"Yeah, hypothetically."

"You know, it's ironic. They make us pass their tests so they can be sure we'll be productive members of society or whatever, put the community first and all that bullshit, but then they punish us for helping each other out."

"Well, the tests are useless if we're allowed to cheat."

"Maybe there's more than one way to gauge a person's value. Vinny, for instance. Vinny was a sweet kid, he would have given his right arm if it would help the community. He was the perfect example of what we're taught to be, but they killed him because he didn't score high enough on some stupid test."

"That's true, Vinny was a good kid."

"You're fucking right he was.”

"Soooo, you'd risk your life for me, huh?"

"I don't know about that, in your hypothetical situation you said you had a surefire way to avoid getting caught. Not much risk there. What about you, would you help me cheat if I was failing?"

“Sure, I guess, I mean it’d be kind of a dick move to say no, especially after you said you’d help me.”

“Aww, you’re so sweet, so you’d risk your life for me?”

“Well, I dunno, I mean…”

"Ha, you totally love me," Julie cooed.

“Shut up, no I don’t. I wouldn’t want you to die is all. Does that mean you love me? Cuz you’d help me cheat?”

"Ewwww, no, you spaz." And with a giggle, Julie signed her own death warrant.

The day of her death Julie awoke much like she did any other – full of good cheer and optimism for that day and all the days she was sure would follow. She slipped on a pair of faded and tattered jeans, pulled a white halter top tee over her head, and applied some lip gloss. Her hair was neatly trimmed in a cute bob cut, which required very little maintenance, and she had no use for makeup. It would be impossible to improve upon the radiance of her already stunningly perfect face.

She went happily to the transport that carried her to school, without any of the angst she once felt when bullying and torment were familiar foes. These days, everyone was nice to her. A result, she supposed, of her blossoming beauty, which could speak poorly for humanity. On second thought, however, such was the way of nature. In a wide variety of species, animals with desirable traits received preferential treatment. It was even a basis for the law of evolution, as Julie understood it.

Bearing this in mind helped absolve the guilt she felt as the recipient of undue kindness, as did her attempts to balance the scales. Julie's unwavering friendship with Philip, for example, despite the fact that lately he had been... awkward... around her. The poor kid had it rough, and anything Julie could do to ease his passage in this world was an endeavor she would happily undertake.

This included surrendering her body for his enjoyment, which she had done a total of eight times since they became intimate months ago. For Julie, there was no pleasure in sex with Philip, obviously because he did nothing to stimulate her. Their first time together had been inspired by an incredibly erotic and romantic death in teevee-land, but each engagement henceforth was spurned on by Philip's insatiable hormones and nothing more. Julie suspected Philip picked up on her lack of enthusiasm, and it was this failure to connect on a physical level to which she attributed his recent awkwardness.

Still, she stood loyally by his side, and when she arrived at school on the last day of her life to find Henry Jergen and his gang of hooligans harassing Phil, she rushed to his defense. They had him hemmed up against a wall, four of them in a circle, employing all the old familiar taunts.

"You're such an ugly fuckling," Henry was telling him, "why don't you just do everyone a favor and kill yourself?"

"Fuck you," was Phil's tentative reply.

Henry slapped him on the side of the head, grabbed his ear, and yanked and twisted it.

"Ouch, stop it!" Phil cried.

"Ouch, stop it!" Henry repeated mockingly. His lackeys stood around chortling, yucking it up at Phil's expense.

Julie stormed up to the group, took hold of Henry's hand and wrenched his arm behind his back.

"Ah, hey!" Henry cried indignantly.

Julie let him go and gave him a little shove as an expression of her displeasure. "You're such a dick, Henry, why don't you go fuck off?"

Retaining his cocky demeanor, Henry looked at Phil and sneered, "You gotta have a chick fight your battles for you, queer boy?"

"He didn't ask me to step in, dick weed," Julie fired back at him.

"What do you see in this loser, Julie. You ought to be with a stud like me."

"Unlike you, Phil has personality. And he's sweet." Julie grabbed Phil's crotch before adding, "and sexy."

With a snort and a dismissive wave of his hand, Henry turned away and left, his gang in tow.

"You don't really think I'm sexy," Phil said, almost a question.

"I think you're sweet," Julie answered him.

"And you don't love me."

"I like you, as a friend... and right now you're creeping me out a little, so just be cool, okay?"

"I'm sorry, Julie. You've been a good friend to me."

"I'll always be your friend, silly."

*continued in next post*



Three hours later, at the start of biology class, Julie’s world came crumbling down around her. As she strolled nonchalantly into the classroom her instructor, Mrs. Darcey, surveyed her with guarded attentiveness, and a security guard stood by the door raising suspicions amongst the students.

Once they had all taken their seats, Mrs. Darcey addressed her class. “Today we have a very special treat for you. You will be learning about the human anatomy in detail through the process of vivisection.”

There was a collective intake of breath in the class, the realization dawning that one of them was about to die, and before any of them could bolt from their seats the security guard raised a pistol and fired a micro dart into Julie’s left breast. Julie wailed in surprise, her eyes lowering to her chest where the dart was imbedded, and quick as a fox she grabbed the projectile and ripped it from her bosom. The effects were nearly instantaneous, as she felt her strength abating even as she plucked the dart from her flesh, but she managed to rise shakily to her feet and stumble towards the exit. On the way she lost her balance, clutched Henry Jergen’s desk and pulled it to the ground with her. She was struggling to pick herself up when another dart bit into her left buttock, definitively knocking the fight out of her.

Henry cackled gleefully. “Looks like you’re in deep shit, Jules!”

Mrs. Darcey and the security guard converged on Julie, removed the dart from her ass, flipped her over, and stripped off her T-shirt. With her glorious bust bare for all to see, there were several cat calls from the class. Appalled by her peers' complete lack of empathy, and powerless to resist, Julie watched as her captors continued to disrobe her. Once fully nude, she was drug over to a steel table equipped with leather straps, which were then fastened around her wrists and ankles, fixing her to the metal slab with her appendages fully extended. The table was slanted forward at a thirty degree angle, so she was not staring straight up, but rather she could see the eyes of everyone in the class fixated on her naked body.

"Julie has been found guilty of conspiring to commit academic fraud, and will be our subject for today's vivisection," Mrs. Darcey announced. Julie could scarcely believe her ears. Her instructor produced a syringe and before injecting Julie she explained it's purpose to the class. "This will cause the specimen's brain cells to retain an excess of oxygen, which they can then draw upon once the specimen's vitals begin to fail. It will keep her alive long after her body ceases to function." There was a pinch in her shoulder, and Julie knew the shot had been administered. Then Mrs. Darcey produced a second syringe, and again she provided an explanation. "This will influence the specimen's nervous system, countering the muscle relaxant previously introduced by the darts, and will ensure she remains alert and conscious for the duration of the vivisection. It also induces nervousness and paranoia, and will greatly magnify the specimen's perception of pain, making this a most decidedly uncomfortable experience for her."

The class murmured in the appropriate amount of respect as Mrs. Darcey administered the second injection.

“Ok, so who would like to make the first incision?”

Philip’s hand shot up like a rocket. “I would, Mrs. Darcey.”

“Very well, come on up, Philip.”

Henry loved this. “Hoho, sweet little lover boy Phil is gonna cut open his girlfriend,” he sneered. Philip ignored him and made his way to the front of the class.

Julie was just beginning to put it all together. Philip had turned her in for agreeing to help him cheat in his hypothetical situation, most likely because of a perceived slight Julie had committed against him in the past couple of months. This would explain his recent discomposure in her presence, particularly the peculiar exchange he shared with her that morning after she came to his defense.

"Mrs. Darcey," Julie managed. "I'm innocent. I can explain."

"You are a lot of things, young lady, but innocent is not among them," Mrs. Darcey replied.

"I wasn't gonna cheat, I swear. Phil and I were just bullshitting around."

"That may be, Julie, but if so, you should have chosen your words more carefully. Now keep quiet or we'll remove your tongue."

Julie's head was spinning, she couldn't believe this was happening to her. She wished she could convince herself this wasn't real, that it was just another teevee episode ending in her demise, but she knew better. In all her teevee interactions, she never had any memory of her previous adventures in the virtual world, but strapped to this steel table, Julie could recall each of her seven fantastical deaths in vivid detail. There was no doubt about it, this was reality.

"Before you begin, Phil, put this in the subject's anus," Mrs. Darcey handed Phil some steel cotton coated with petroleum jelly. "It will prevent her from fouling the table." The table had a run off that began at Julie's crotch, and beneath this Mrs. Darcey placed a pan designed to catch her urine.

"I'm potty trained," Julie joked lamely, but she was too horrified to laugh. Were they really going to slice her apart like she was an insect or a bug or something? She felt the coldness in her rectum as Philip inserted the oily butt plug, then sucked air over her teeth as his fingers brushed over her clitoris.

"I think she's turned on by this, Mrs. Darcey," Philip remarked, and to demonstrate his claim he caressed her nipples, feeling their stiffness. "Her tits are hard."

Up until now the terror had superseded her sexuality and Julie hadn't realized how insanely horny she was, but Philip's touch reminded her of her intense arousal at the thought of her untimely death. As she blushed brightly in shame and embarrassment of her deviant lusting, Mrs. Darcey explained it away.

"Yes, Phil, death is a powerful aphrodisiac for most people." She took Phil's fingers and returned them to Julie's crotch. "Feel how wet she is down there," and Julie's biology instructor slipped her fingers inside her vagina, and Phil joined her. Against her will, Julie gasped and moaned in ecstasy, but it was short lived. Mrs. Darcey removed her fingers and those of her pupil abruptly, then declared, "We won't be providing any sexual service to our subject. She deserves no pleasures, however petty and insignificant they might be."

And without further ado, Mrs. Darcey handed Philip a paring knife and told him, "Let's begin." Then, to the class, she said, "We won't be using lasers for this project, so things might get a bit messy, but we do not want to spare our subject any amount of pain. We will start by examining the abdominal cavity. Philip."

Phil took just a moment to feel Julie's soft, flat, smooth belly, holding his palm against it to enjoy her warmth.

"Oooooo fuck. Fuck fuck fuck," Julie whined in anticipation of the sting of the blade.

"Here goes, Julie," Phil said and he slid the knife into her tender midriff.

Julie’s jaw dropped and her mouth yawned in a silent scream. The pain hit her like a tidal wave, immediate and forceful, far worse than she had expected, evidently a result of the drugs Mrs. Darcey had administered. All her tortuous encounters in virtual reality had not prepared her for this.

The knife had pierced her roughly two inches above her navel, and Philip pulled the instrument downward through her guts, slashing her open. The blade passed neatly through her belly button and continued its progress down to her groin. It did not feel as if the knife cut her, but rather as if it violently ripped a furrow through her flesh in a hellish blaze. Julie was only able to articulate her agony through a series of guttural grunts, her wonderfully blue eyes bulging in their sockets.

Once he was finished, Philip withdrew the knife from her belly and looked at the gaping wound it had left in its wake. A few coils of intestines were already squirming their way through the incision, and gouts of blood sprayed Phil, soiling his clothes.

“Oh, God, Philip, what did you do?” Julie gasped.

“God’s a mythical construct, no more real than dragons or fairy tales.” Julie’s own meme, thrown back at her by her best friend.

“I wish that weren’t true,” Julie replied.

“If there was a god, it would take no pity on your soul, my dear,” Mrs. Darcey chimed in. Then, addressing the class, she remarked, “As you can see, the jejunum has already begun to spill from the specimen’s abdomen. However, it will not completely dislodge from her belly because it remains mostly held in place via the mesentery. Philip, make two horizontal cuts at the top and bottom of the incision so we can further expose the specimen’s abdominal cavity. We will then cut through the mesentery and remove the full extent of both the large and small intestines.”

Julie whimpered, bracing herself for the additional carving of her flesh, and Philip did as instructed, stabbing her in the upper left side of her stomach, then slicing sideways through her body, traversing the initial wound, until he had left a six inch laceration perpendicular to the vertical gash in her midsection. He then did the same to her lower abdomen, the finished product being a pair of flaps that could be lifted to reveal Julie’s insides. A steady pulse of blood continued to spurt from her belly, soaking Phil, but he didn't seem to mind. Mrs. Darcey, however, decided it was a problem that should be addressed.

"It appears the superior mesenteric artery's been cut," she remarked, and she proceeded to tie the blood vessel off with surgical string.

Julie was amazed to discover there were still new levels of pain previously unreached, and wondered how much worse it could get. How would she bear it when they began fumbling around inside of her, ripping her apart?

In the name of education, Mrs. Darcey pointed to the severed edge of one of the flaps of Julie’s dissected abdomen. “Look here. There are three layers of abdominal fat, the first being this dense layer here, which is packed with nerves and blood vessels. Just beneath it you have the extra-abdominal fat layer, which as you can see, although the specimen is only slightly overweight and her stomach is flat, this layer of fat is relatively thick. The third layer is called visceral fat, and its function is to protect and cushion the abdominal organs.”

"I'm not overweight," Julie breathed.

"You are just a little pudgy, Jules," Philip told her. "But it's a cute pudgy."

"I guess I'll be a lot thinner when this is over," Julie quipped, eliciting a chuckle from several of her classmates, and she forced a weak smile for their benefit. Her sense of humor was the only thing keeping her sane.

"Let's get to work on that, shall we?" Mrs. Darcey declared, pulling back the flaps of Julie's serrated flesh. "Does anyone else want to take a turn with the knife?"

Henry practically jumped out of his chair at the opportunity. "I do, Mrs. Darcey."

"Very well, come join us."

Henry bounded to the front of the class and rudely claimed the knife from Philip.

"Now we're going to be cutting through the visceral peritoneum, but be careful not to cause too much damage to the intestines. We'd like them largely in tact before we begin examining their interior." Mrs. Darcey instructed. Henry went to work on Julie with savage enthusiasm, manhandling her organs and sawing through tissue like a dog chews gristle. Again Julie marveled at the seemingly limitless amount of pain she was capable of experiencing, suffering through agony that was heretofore unimaginable. She strained against her restraints and gnashed her teeth as bits and pieces of her were stripped away, until at last Henry held a fully liberated tangle of slippery guts.

"Still feel like calling me a dick weed?" Henry sneered with a grin.

"Dick weed," Julie croaked defiantly.

"Thank you, Henry, now help me spread them out," Mrs. Darcey said, ignoring Julie and Henry's antics.

Philip, Henry, and Mrs. Darcey unraveled Julie's intestines and stood away from each other, allowing the class to look upon the full length of her bowels.

"So as you can see, the small intestine, although generally longer in females, is on average between 6 and 7 meters in length, almost half of which is comprised of the jejunum, which is this middle section here. This is where most of your body's nutrients are absorbed. This section here, which connects to the large intestine, is the ileum, which is where vitamin B12 and bile salts are primarily absorbed, and this short section here which leads to the specimen's stomach is the duodenum." Mrs. Darcey pointed to each bit of Julie's entrails as she identified it, and Julie looked on with morbid fascination.

"If you look closely at some of these lesions in the serous membrane, you'll see some of the specimen's fecal matter seeping through. Before the medical advances of the twentieth century, stomach wounds were very often fatal because of the infection that would result from a ruptured intestine." Henry's overly aggressive surgical procedure had left dozens of nicks in Julie's plumbing, and there were multiple examples of what Mrs. Darcey described.

"Moving on to the subject's colon, or large intestine, which appears to be of average length, generally about one and a half meters, you have the ascending colon here, which connects to the ileum and is located on the right side of your body, and this leads to the transverse colon, and here you'll see more of the specimen's feces leaking through a laceration Phil appears to have made as he was slicing our subject open."

"I have a name, you know," Julie murmured from the table.

"You are living meat, no longer worthy of human treatment, and will be referred to as however I deem fit," Mrs. Darcey snapped back at her. Then, without skipping a beat, she continued, "Now this segment on the left side of the body is the descending colon, and it leads to the sigmoid colon, which in turn connects to the subject's rectum. The colon's main function is to extract water and salt from your excrement before it is eliminated from the body.

"With the subject's bowels and much of the peritoneum out of the way, we can see the stomach, liver, spleen, gallbladder, and pancreas, and down here you can see her bladder and her uterus and ovaries, which is where she would produce ova, or eggs, were she to be granted permission to reproduce. Obviously that won't be happening. Henry, cut through the specimen's jejunum and let's take a look at a bisection of her small intestine."

Henry was happy to comply, and Julie discovered there were nerve endings in her intestines that when severed triggered pain from within her belly, even when they were outside of her body. It was a bizarre experience.

"So here, this canal through which the specimen's food travels as it completes the digestion process is called the lumen, and it is surrounded by the mucosa, sub mucosa, muscularis externa, which are the muscles that propel your food through your gut, and the serosa. One of the great things about a vivisection is that, although we have removed the intestines, you can still see them at work, and you'll notice that the specimen's muscularis externa continues to force her chyme, or partially digested food, forward through the lumen."

"Great, very educational," Julie remarked, "but now that we've all seen what my insides look like, what do you say we put them back inside of me and stitch me back up?" Of course this was sarcasm, but Julie wasn't entirely joking. She still had not completely come to terms with the fact that she was dying.

"Oh no, dear," Mrs. Darcey answered earnestly, "we're far from finished, but don't worry, once you've expired and we're done examining your body, we'll sew you back up and let some of the boys have some fun with you. It'd be a shame to let such exquisite beauty go to waste." Henry's face lit up at this revelation, and Julie envisioned him pounding away inside of her corpse. It took some work to avoid vomiting as the mental image formed involuntarily in her head. Mrs. Darcey winked at her, then got back to business.

"Next I'd like to remove the subject's stomach and have a look inside. Any volunteers?"

When no one spoke up, Henry said he'd be happy to continue carving Julie up, and Mrs. Darcey approved. They piled Julie's intestines in a waste bin that had been positioned next to the table for the purpose of storing her discarded body parts, and continued their mad operation.

"You'll need to cut through the duodenum and the esophagus, but put these on before you begin." Mrs. Darcey handed Henry a pair of rubber surgical gloves. "The stomach contains powerful digestive acid, primarily hydrochloric acid, and it can burn your skin upon contact."

Henry eagerly snapped on the gloves, and asked, "What'd you have for breakfast, Julie?"

"I guess you're about to find out," Julie told him.

Henry delved into Julie's abdomen with reckless disregard, cutting right through her duodenum and esophagus just as instructed, and plucked the bulky organ from her body. Julie realized that everything up until this point was mere child's play, her body wracked with ferocious pain well beyond anything she had yet endured. Blood flooded the back of her throat and she found herself gagging on the stuff. Bright crimson passed over her fine, sensuous lips and spilled down her chin and her pale, velvety cheeks. "Hyyyyaauuuhhhhh," she gasped as her insides were violated in ways nature never intended.

"No more cheeseburgers for you, Julie," Henry said with a sadistic laugh.

Spurts of blood sprung from several ripped blood vessels, and Mrs. Darcey used her surgical string to tie them off one by one. Once this task was completed, she swiped blood from her face and said, "Nice work, Henry, now let's cut it open and have a look inside. Hold it over the specimen's abdominal cavity so any spillage runs off onto her innards."

Julie watched with wide-eyed, self-deprecating interest as her stomach was opened up in front of her, and felt the sting as acids meant to be contained within the organ spattered on her exposed guts. The last meal she'd ever eat - eggs over easy, bacon, sausage and hash browns - was mostly gone and unrecognizable.

The lesson plan continued. "Okay, so this part here that was attached to the esophagus is the cardia, this upper curve is called the fundus, the main, central area here is known as the body, and this tail end here that leads into the duodenum is the pylorus." Mrs. Darcey went on to explain the functions of each section, and break down the cross section of her stomach lining as she did the small intestine earlier.

This procedure was repeated with her liver, her gallbladder, her spleen, and as her organs her were methodically destroyed right before her eyes, Julie was finding it increasingly difficult to maintain her sanity. Mind-numbing fear continued to swell in her heart, and she was beginning to understand that the damage being done to her was irreversible. She was actually dying, and it was a terrible thing to come to grips with.

While the class was learning what the inside of her kidneys looked like, Julie gurgled, “Phil… Phil… I… I’m scuh… sc… scared. I duh… d… doh… don’t… wanna… duh… die. Heee… huhh… ah fu… uck… ah fuck… I… I’m… duh… dying…”

“Yeah, of course you’re dying, most of your organs are in the trash can, what do you want me to do about it?” Phil answered coldly.

Julie truly didn’t know what she expected him to do, but she wished with all her being that it wasn’t so. “Huh… hole… hold muh… me…” was what she managed to stammer. It was her final plea for mercy, for some small, meager act of kindness and humanity, and it would go ignored and unanswered.

“I’m not gonna hold you, you crazy bitch.”

Julie couldn’t understand his hostility. She had been nothing but nice to this boy, had gone out of her way to please him and make his life a little more enjoyable, and in return he had betrayed her and he now spoke to her as if she was less than dirt. She would have asked him why, but the ability to speak eluded her just then and Mrs. Darcey was determined to proceed with her lesson.

“As you can see, delirium is setting in as the grim reality of death looms large for our subject, and it can inspire one to make all sorts of absurd requests. But don’t let her rambling bother you, let us press on.” Julie's bladder and ovaries were removed and dissected, then the sadists moved on to her thorax, slicing open her rib cage with a bone saw.

She was amazed that she still clung to both her life and her consciousness when her beating heart was removed from her chest and held up in front of her. It's the drugs, she thought, keeping me alive. Still, the pain was finally fading and she could feel herself slipping. It wouldn't be much longer, and Julie fought with everything she had for each passing second. No matter how terrifyingly bleak and painful her existence might be, she knew that it was better to exist than to not exist at all. This fierce resistance to her inevitable ending carried on for ten more minutes, long enough for her chest to be hollowed out, leaving her entire torso empty of all vital organs.

When she was finally gone, Mrs. Darcey held true to her word and had Julie sewn back up with filling for her insides, and then let the boys take turns banging her lifeless corpse.

Like Julie, Philip found the death of Taylor to be surprisingly erotic, and it left a permanent imprint on his life. He no longer fantasized about women in sexual situations, something with which he never found much appeal anyway. When he suggested he and Julie watch the teevee that fateful day, when Julie confessed her willingness to cheat, he had very specific hopes for their program, and his hopes were surpassed in ways he had never imagined possible. While his concern for Julie as his friend was genuine and heartfelt, he could not help but feel incredibly aroused when he found her dying in the desert, her body full of arrows and her guts strewn about in the sand. The sex that followed was beyond his wildest dreams, something likely akin to the heaven of which the ancients used to preach.

He then had secretly recorded his conversation with Julie, in which he meticulously posed his question with regards to cheating. Julie had provided precisely the answer he sought after, but he had not yet made up his mind to use the recording for his ultimate goal. After all, he had very real feelings for Julie and they had enjoyed some great times together, but when she laughed at the idea of loving him, and she offered him her body but not her heart, he eventually made the decision to betray her in order to watch her die.

It meant the end of a wonderful friendship. He would never again be able to spend time with her or laugh with her, but the look on her face when she finally expired was worth every lost second.


Love these non consent stories!


Love these non consent stories!


What a fitting post number.


I know, I'm patiently awaiting the ones they're working on now.


The Webseries

"Julie, tie your shirt up in the front so we can see your belly."

Julie wrinkled her nose, feeling uneasy about the whole thing.

"Come on, sex sells. That's how we're gonna get the hits and subs so we can start making that ad money," Tony urged her.

After some hesitation, Julie undid the last few buttons of her blouse and tied the two ends together, revealing several inches of white, creamy skin around her navel. "So are you gonna make James take off his shirt, too?" Julie asked with a smile. James looked at her with uncertainty, and Julie egged him on, "Let's see those big pecs, James." Then, with a giggle, she added, "Sex sells."

"Alright, f*ck it," James said, playing along, and he stripped off his tee shirt.

Julie was mildly impressed with his sculpted chest and chiseled abs, and she oohed and put her hands on him, making sure she wasn't the only one being objectified.

"Nice," Tony chimed in. "Julie, you wanna go topless too? I'll make sure to edit out any boobage."

Julie laughed. "Nice try, perv."

"Okay, fine, let's get filming, shall we?" Tony pointed at Todd and signalled for him to start rolling. Todd responded by lifting the Canon XL1 and aiming it at Julie and James. "Action!" Tony shouted, before ducking behind James' F150. Julie leaned back on the old ford and let James press himself against her. She kissed him, hesitantly at first, then with more passion. His arms enveloped her. His hands stroked her back, her ribs, her breasts, and then suddenly he was holding her by the head and sucking fiercely on her lips.

Julie went with it, wrapping her legs around James' waist and grinding against him with her pelvis. A hint of a smile touched her face when James moaned involuntarily, and she could feel his erection bulging in his jeans. She couldn't help but feel somewhat cheated when Tony stepped up behind James and raised his machete. She pulled away from James, her mouth agape in terror, and James spun around in her arms.

"Cut!" Tony shouted from behind his hockey mask. "That was perfect, great job! Julie, you looked terrified. I love it."

"You sure you don't need another take?" James asked, his face flushed red as he adjusted the crotch of his pants to accomodate his boner. Julie smiled slyly at him and Tony slapped him on the back.

"You nailed it, bud," Tony said, side-stepping James' obvious ploy for another go with Julie. "Now we'll edit in the shot where I split your skull later. You lie down there, and we'll keep shooting. Julie, you're up now."

Julie cast a nervous eye on the machete, and wished it wasn't real. Tony said it would be more believable this way, and suspension of disbelief was paramount to quality entertainment. "Be careful with that thing, I don't want any scars on my belly," Julie told him.

Tony snapped his mask into place and swung the oversized knife at Julie's midriff, cutting the air bare inches from her skin. "I got this, yo," he boasted.

Julie rolled her eyes. "That's reassuring."

"Okay, ready?" Julie leaned back against the truck, as she had before, Tony stood over her with the machete held out menacingly, and James lie down in the dirt beside them. "Action!" Tony called.

Julie gave Tony a rough shove, knocking him back a few steps, and turned and bolted around the side of the truck. She reached into the bed and pulled out a tire iron, which she raised over her head as if to brain the masked killer hot on her trail. She held the would be weapon high, stretching her stomach taut, but made no effort to strike Tony as he approached. The hockey-mask-wearing, machete-wielding director was supposed to call "cut!" just before he reached her, but instead he rushed forward and drove the point of his blade straight into Julie's breadbasket.

Julie gasped as the cold steel sliced through her innards, her stunning blue eyes opening wide with astonishment. As his right hand continued shoving the machete through Julie's belly, Tony's left hand caught Julie's wrists and relieved her of the tire iron. "I'll take that, thank you," he said cheerfully.

Oh sh*t, he actually stabbed me, Julie thought stupidly. Once the blade had run her completely through and its momentum had stopped, Tony asked her, "How does that feel, you c*nt?"

Julie could only gape at him in shock, unsure how to respond, and instead of answering she looked down at James, who had rolled over on his back so he could see the action. James seemed as stunned by this turn of events as Julie, and Julie managed to croak, "James, he really stabbed me."

"Yeah, he really did," James told her.

Tony gave the blade a cruel twist, then pulled it violently from Julie's flesh. A spurt of blood and a loop of intestines accompanied the machete's exodus from her belly, and Julie slapped both hands against the wound in an effort to stem the flow. Tony promptly shoved the pointy end of the blade through Julie's midriff again, again running her clean through.

Julie's eyes bulged in their sockets and she grunted her discomfort, "Oooooof." Then, in a strained voice, she quipped, "I said I didn't want any scars."

Tony laughed. "Don't worry, you won't have any. Your wounds have to heal before they can become scars." Julie immediately understood his implications. He means to kill me, she thought. And he's off to a great start.

Tony withdrew the agricultural tool from her guts, much more smoothly than he had the previous time, leaving another steady stream of blood in its wake. Still clutching her stomach, Julie brushed past him, walking away from the truck. There was nowhere to go; they were at the pit, a make-out spot frequented by teens due to its remote location, but Julie went anyway. The going was tough, however, because every step seemed to take a tremendous toll on her quickly evaporating strength. She had only managed to cover a few meager feet before a hand clasped her on the shoulder, and the blood tainted steel of the machete emerged from her belly.

Julie arched her back as the blade sliced through her for the third time, and just as quickly as it had found its way into and through her, it found its way out of her.

"Are you getting this?" Tony asked, and Todd, who was still standing in front of Julie and pointing his camera at her, gave him a thumbs up. Julie looked at the camera, her face a mask of horror, despair, and defeat, and slowly dropped to her knees. Her wide, shell shocked eyes found their way to the coil of viscera slipping through her fingers, and she thought of the breakfast sausages her mom used to make her when she was a kid. It was a strange recollection to have, as her own guts did not bear a close resemblance to the sausages from her childhood.

I'm losing my mind, she thought.

Tony and James circled around to have a look at her face, and she met their gaze with as much courage as she could muster. "I guess this was just for that realistic effect, right Tony? This is why you insisted on using a real machete?"

"Suspension of disbelief," Tony replied.

Julie gave Tony a rueful smile and sighed, "Yeah, well I can't believe I'm dying." Discussion dissipated after that, with Julie on her knees bleeding, and the three boys watching her in silence.

Without conversation to distract her, her mind began to wander. First she focused on why she was here. When Tony had asked her to be the opening girl in a horror-themed webseries for Youtube, she had pounced on the opportunity. It had been her idea to be run through with a machete, as she had fantasized about being stabbed or shot in the stomach for as long as she could remember, and she couldn't wait to see the end result of the digital editing. Never had she dreamed the proposed fictional scenario would become a reality. Actually being stabbed in the gut and coping with the excruciating pain and the mind-boggling fear of her inevitable death was nothing like her sexual fantasies.

Her thoughts then shifted to what awaited her when she died. If her church and parents and preachers were to be believed, an eternity of torment in Hell was all she had to look forward to, since one of her last acts on this earth was to dry hump a guy in an effort to earn a few bucks and get herself and others off on a youtube video. On the other hand, if death was truly the end, then nothing at all awaited her, a prospect she found even more frightening than Hell. "Julie, tie your shirt up in the front so we can see your belly."

Julie wrinkled her nose, feeling uneasy about the whole thing.

"Come on, sex sells. That's how we're gonna get the hits and subs so we can start making that ad money," Tony urged her.

After some hesitation, Julie undid the last few buttons of her blouse and tied the two ends together, revealing several inches of white, creamy skin around her navel. "So are you gonna make James take off his shirt, too?" Julie asked with a smile. James looked at her with uncertainty, and Julie egged him on, "Let's see those big pecs, James." Then, with a giggle, she added, "Sex sells."

"Alright, f*ck it," James said, playing along, and he stripped off his tee shirt.

Julie was mildly impressed with his sculpted chest and chiseled abs, and she oohed and put her hands on him, making sure she wasn't the only one being objectified.

"Nice," Tony chimed in. "Julie, you wanna go topless too? I'll make sure to edit out any boobage."

Julie laughed. "Nice try, perv."

"Okay, fine, let's get filming, shall we?" Tony pointed at Todd and signalled for him to start rolling. Todd responded by lifting the Canon XL1 and aiming it at Julie and James. "Action!" Tony shouted, before ducking behind James' F150. Julie leaned back on the old ford and let James press himself against her. She kissed him, hesitantly at first, then with more passion. His arms enveloped her. His hands stroked her back, her ribs, her breasts, and then suddenly he was holding her by the head and sucking fiercely on her lips.

Julie went with it, wrapping her legs around James' waist and grinding against him with her pelvis. A hint of a smile touched her face when James moaned involuntarily, and she could feel his erection bulging in his jeans. She couldn't help but feel somewhat cheated when Tony stepped up behind James and raised his machete. She pulled away from James, her mouth agape in terror, and James spun around in her arms.

"Cut!" Tony shouted from behind his hockey mask. "That was perfect, great job! Julie, you looked terrified. I love it."

"You sure you don't need another take?" James asked, his face flushed red as he adjusted the crotch of his pants to accomodate his boner. Julie smiled slyly at him and Tony slapped him on the back.

"You nailed it, bud," Tony said, side-stepping James' obvious ploy for another go with Julie. "Now we'll edit in the shot where I split your skull later. You lie down there, and we'll keep shooting. Julie, you're up now."

Julie cast a nervous eye on the machete, and wished it wasn't real. Tony said it would be more believable this way, and suspension of disbelief was paramount to quality entertainment. "Be careful with that thing, I don't want any scars on my belly," Julie told him.

Tony snapped his mask into place and swung the oversized knife at Julie's midriff, cutting the air bare inches from her skin. "I got this, yo," he boasted.

Julie rolled her eyes. "That's reassuring."

"Okay, ready?" Julie leaned back against the truck, as she had before, Tony stood over her with the machete held out menacingly, and James lie down in the dirt beside them. "Action!" Tony called.

Julie gave Tony a rough shove, knocking him back a few steps, and turned and bolted around the side of the truck. She reached into the bed and pulled out a tire iron, which she raised over her head as if to brain the masked killer hot on her trail. She held the would be weapon high, stretching her stomach taut, but made no effort to strike Tony as he approached. The hockey-mask-wearing, machete-wielding director was supposed to call "cut!" just before he reached her, but instead he rushed forward and drove the point of his blade straight into Julie's breadbasket.

Julie gasped as the cold steel sliced through her innards, her stunning blue eyes opening wide with astonishment. As his right hand continued shoving the machete through Julie's belly, Tony's left hand caught Julie's wrists and relieved her of the tire iron. "I'll take that, thank you," he said cheerfully.

Oh sh*t, he actually stabbed me, Julie thought stupidly. Once the blade had run her completely through and its momentum had stopped, Tony asked her, "How does that feel, you c*nt?"

Julie could only gape at him in shock, unsure how to respond, and instead of answering she looked down at James, who had rolled over on his back so he could see the action. James seemed as stunned by this turn of events as Julie, and Julie managed to croak, "James, he really stabbed me."

"Yeah, he really did," James told her.

Tony gave the blade a cruel twist, then pulled it violently from Julie's flesh. A spurt of blood and a loop of intestines accompanied the machete's exodus from her belly, and Julie slapped both hands against the wound in an effort to stem the flow. Tony promptly shoved the pointy end of the blade through Julie's midriff again, again running her clean through.

Julie's eyes bulged in their sockets and she grunted her discomfort, "Oooooof." Then, in a strained voice, she quipped, "I said I didn't want any scars."

Tony laughed. "Don't worry, you won't have any. Your wounds have to heal before they can become scars." Julie immediately understood his implications. He means to kill me, she thought. And he's off to a great start.

Tony withdrew the agricultural tool from her guts, much more smoothly than he had the previous time, leaving another steady stream of blood in its wake. Still clutching her stomach, Julie brushed past him, walking away from the truck. There was nowhere to go; they were at the pit, a make-out spot frequented by teens due to its remote location, but Julie went anyway. The going was tough, however, because every step seemed to take a tremendous toll on her quickly evaporating strength. She had only managed to cover a few meager feet before a hand clasped her on the shoulder, and the blood tainted steel of the machete emerged from her belly.

Julie arched her back as the blade sliced through her for the third time, and just as quickly as it had found its way into and through her, it found its way out of her.

"Are you getting this?" Tony asked, and Todd, who was still standing in front of Julie and pointing his camera at her, gave him a thumbs up. Julie looked at the camera, her face a mask of horror, despair, and defeat, and slowly dropped to her knees. Her wide, shell shocked eyes found their way to the coil of viscera slipping through her fingers, and she thought of the breakfast sausages her mom used to make her when she was a kid. It was a strange recollection to have, as her own guts did not bear a close resemblance to the sausages from her childhood.

I'm losing my mind, she thought.

Tony and James circled around to have a look at her face, and she met their gaze with as much courage as she could muster. "I guess this was just for that realistic effect, right Tony? This is why you insisted on using a real machete?"

"Suspension of disbelief," Tony replied.

Julie gave Tony a rueful smile and sighed, "Yeah, well I can't believe I'm dying." Discussion dissipated after that, with Julie on her knees bleeding, and the three boys watching her in silence.

Without conversation to distract her, her mind began to wander. First she focused on why she was here. When Tony had asked her to be the opening girl in a horror-themed webseries for Youtube, she had pounced on the opportunity. It had been her idea to be run through with a machete, as she had fantasized about being stabbed or shot in the stomach for as long as she could remember, and she couldn't wait to see the end result of the digital editing. Never had she dreamed the proposed fictional scenario would become a reality. Actually being stabbed in the gut and coping with the excruciating pain and the mind-boggling fear of her inevitable death was nothing like her sexual fantasies.

Her thoughts then shifted to what awaited her when she died. If her church and parents and preachers were to be believed, an eternity of torment in Hell was all she had to look forward to, since one of her last acts on this earth was to dry hump a guy in an effort to earn a few bucks and get herself and others off on a youtube video. On the other hand, if death was truly the end, then nothing at all awaited her, a prospect she found even more frightening than Hell.

"Okay, look," she said at last. "It's not too late. I think I can survive this. Just take me to a hospital, and we'll tell them this was an accident. I'll tell them you thought it was a prop."

Tony knelt beside her. "Poor Julie," he said, as he tore off the buttons on her blouse. "I want you to know, I really do feel sorry for you." He undid the clasp on her bra and removed the garment, then untied the bottom of Julie's blouse and opened it up to reveal her breasts. "I'm sure this hurts," he told her, brushing his fingers against the gaping wounds in her belly, "and I can only begin to imagine what must be going through that pretty little head of yours. But you are going to die. You see, my uncle knows some people. Rich people. And some of them have some... peculiar tastes. We showed them some photos of you, and they're willing to pay us ten million dollars to watch you die."

"You showed them photos of me?"

"They asked who the best looking girls in our school were. Your name was the first to come to mind."


"They loved you."

"I'm flattered." Tiring of conversation, Julie put a hand on Tony's shoulder and pushed herself to her feet. She decided suddenly to walk home, even if it meant trudging four miles through empty desert to reach the nearest paved road. Her shirt fell off her shoulders, and she let it drop. She didn't care about modesty. All she cared about was living.

Todd stayed ahead of her, still filming his damned snuff video, and Tony let her go a ways before taking a swing at her back with the sharp edge of the machete. The blade embedded itself in the tender flesh to the right of her spine, and then it was pried free. "Aaaaaaa," Julie cried, her back arching and her breasts jiggling beautifully on her chest. Tony then planted the blade in the left side of her back, again hacking instead of stabbing, and Julie wailed in distress, blood flying from her lips. She fell to one knee, swiped at her mouth, and then stood back up, shaky but determined. Tony smiled and took another hack, this time slicing into the right side of Julie's midsection.

"F*ck, please stop," Julie pleaded.

Tony moved out in front and smiled at her. "This is actually kind of fun, in a sick way." He laughed and took two hearty swings at Julie's midsection, slicing her wide open and spilling a massive pile of guts at her feet.

"Ulllllllkkhhh, NNnnnnnggggg" Julie grunted.

"Holy sh*t, did you see her f*cking insides come out?" James explained excitedly. He joined Tony in front of Julie, and reached a hand towards the girl's exposed entrails.

Julie tried to continue onward, but her feet wouldn't move and her knees buckled. Her buttocks came to rest on her heels, and she sat there, staring at her ruined belly and holding her intestines in her hands.

"What do they feel like?" James asked, genuinely curious. He squatted down next to Julie, picked up one of the loose coils of her colon and rubbed it between his fingers.

"You wanna hold my sausage?" Julie asked him, and giggled in spite of herself.

"This bitch has f*cking balls," James remarked. "Is it weird that I still want to f*ck her?"

"Dude, I'd f*ck the sh*t out of her like this," Todd agreed.

"Nobody's fucking anybody," Tony interjected. "You numb nuts wanna leave your DNA all up in her cooch? You'll get pinched in f*cking no time, and then you'll be singing to the pigs. And I'll tell you right now, you pussies rat me out and I'll f*cking kill you."

"Calm your sh*t," James told him. "Nobody said they were gonna f*ck her, we just said we still think she's f*ckable, even with her sh*t hanging out like that."

"You guys are sick," Julie chimed in.

"Yeah, and you're dying," James said, and he slapped her in the face with her intestines. "What do you guys think, should I strangle her with her own guts?"

"I don't care, as long as she dies." Tony replied.

"You hear that, bitch?" James told Julie as he wrapped her intestines around her throat. Her blue eyes bulged in their sockets as he tightened his grip and squeezed off her windpipe. "Ha, she's actually f*cking choking! You still want to grind on me, slut?" Julie slapped weakly at his hands, but she was powerless to free herself. Her strength was all but gone, and in less than thirty seconds sparkling clouds of white began to blot out her vision, and she felt certain she was going to pass out. Just before she lost consciousness, however, James released his death grip and she began gasping for air. "Bah, she's not getting off that easy," he said. "Let's just let her die slow."

Although this was meant to be punishment, Julie was relieved and thankful for any time she might still have left. Five minutes passed in relative silence, and then ten, and Julie's blood spilled out in droves, soaking through her slacks and wetting the ground around her. Her mouth was dry, her lips were turning blue, and her fingers felt like icycles, despite the scorching desert air. "I'm thirsty," she said at last, "and cold."

"You're bleeding to death," Tony told her, indifferent.

"I... need to rest," she said quietly, almost as if she hadn't heard him. She then slumped backwards until she was lying on her back, staring up at the sky, and took her final few breaths. All three boys leaned over her, Todd still wielding his camera, and she blinked at them in bewilderment as her life left her.


Any updates on my story?

((Not rushing, just generally curious on how you feel it's turning out))




Sorry, like I said, I'm a slow writer. The last couple stories I wrote took me close to a year to finish. I have the concept worked out, like who the characters are, what plays out, and how to begin the story, which is usually the toughest part. I'll probably start writing it down today.


No need to rush it, I understand it takes time. Was just curious is all. I'm glad gurochan is back again though


Hi bloodlust
Thousand thanks for your wonderful stories about Julie's Many Deaths. I especially liked "The Webseries", how Julie's belly is attacked with a machete and "Julie and the Lizards", where lizards eats her belly. THANK YOU VERY MUCH. I love Julie !!


Hi bloodlust
Thousand thanks for your wonderful stories about Julie's Many Deaths. I especially liked "The Webseries", how Julie's belly is attacked with a machete and "Julie and the Lizards", where lizards eats her belly. THANK YOU VERY MUCH. I love Julie !!


These are the best series of stories on this board. I love how your Julie is defiant, but in such a realistic way. She is different every time, but familiar, like an old friend you killed once.

Here's a request from my own interests, if you don't mind. If Julie were pregnant, she would fight even harder to live, or perhaps die to save her unborn baby. I could see her cutting her little girl right out of her own womb to rescue her from death. Then we would be dying ourselves to know whether Julie's sacrifice was in vain?

Requests are like assholes, everybody's got one, some have a collection in a box in the closet. Thank you for these great stories.


I appreciate the high praise, and I am open to suggestions for future stories. Unfortunately I like a soft but flat belly on my victims, so I won't be writing about a pregnant Julie. I'm also not really into the mom angle. I am more turned on if the victim is fighting for her own life, not the life of her child.


Hi bloodlust
How about the following idea: Julie goes with some of her friends in the urban sewer, because one of the girls has heard that tonight apparently a gothic scene should take place there. Julie does not like it at all because she's so scared of rats.
In the end, she lets herself be persuaded and goes with them into the stinking tubes, which means death for her and her friends. Because it actually turns out that deep down in the sewers not only rats live, but also creatures that feed exclusively on intestines. But since Julie is so afraid of rats, her belly should be eaten by them.

I have already written a similar story, but in German. My English is a disaster, so it's out of place in this forum. I use a translation program.


Hi bloodlust
How about the following idea: Julie goes with some of her friends in the urban sewer, because one of the girls has heard that tonight apparently a gothic scene should take place there. Julie does not like it at all because she's so scared of rats.
In the end, she lets herself be persuaded and goes with them into the stinking tubes, which means death for her and her friends. Because it actually turns out that deep down in the sewers not only rats live, but also creatures that feed exclusively on intestines. But since Julie is so afraid of rats, her belly should be eaten by them.

I have already written a similar story, but in German. My English is a disaster, so it's out of place in this forum. I use a translation program.


I personally just like the idea of her pussy being destroyed or removed, perhaps her asshole and breasts as well.

How's the story coming?



I think that's an awesome idea. I really would like to read your version, but you've got me thinking of a plotline around that scenario.

@ Pussy shooter, it's coming along, slowly but surely.


Excited and I can't wait


Been a fan of your stories for some years now BL. On other forums that is. Fun to see you posting here as well. Always looking forward to new stories from you. Julie is a real treat. :-)


Still here bloodlust?


Yeah, I'm still here. Good to see the site seems to have stabilized a bit. I'm still working on the story Pussy Shooter asked for. Maybe a little less than halfway through it. Then I have a bunch of different plotlines floating around in my fucked up head that I'd like to get to.


Yay! With all gurochans down time lately, I was worried I'd lost that story. Any chance you could give me a preview via email?


Well, here it is. I hope it came out okay, I had to sort of power forward at times when the inspiration wasn't there, and some things just showed up and others I had planned didn't, but it's finished.


Julie and the cucumber

"Have you ever tried the shower head?" Jenny asked, her eyes wide with excitement, as if she was trying the shower head herself right now.

"We don't have a removable shower head in my house," Julie answered.

"Dude, my grandma's got one, and fuck yes, it's the fucking shit," Olivia affirmed.

"Yeah, you're missing out," Jenny told Julie.

"Is it better than your dildo?" Julie asked.

Jenny paused to think it over, then answered, "It can be. At times."

"You wanna hear something sick?" Yadira asked them.

"Spill it, bitch," Olivia spat.

"Megan told me she sticks a cucumber up her ass. She said it gets her off."

"That kinky bitch," Olivia gasped, her mouth agape for dramatic effect, then she cackled loudly.

"She's probably on to something," Jenny commented. "I've heard that one of the best ways to climax is through anal stimulation."

"Yeah, for dudes," Yadira put in.

Julie giggled, then asked, “Does she eat the cucumber after she’s done?”

That got a laugh out of all of them, and Olivia chided her, “Ew, bitch. You’re disgusting.”

Julie smiled and replied, “What? It’s a sin to waste food, you know.”

“Speaking of wasting food, are you gonna finish those fries?” Olivia asked.

Julie’s smile widened. “You want me to stick them up my ass first?”

“Bitch, I’ll stick my foot up your fucking ass.”

Julie laughed and handed Olivia her tray of fries. “They were a little cold today.”

“Girl, you’re trippin’. McDonald’s fries are always the shit.” Olivia told her, already cramming some in her mouth.

“Julie, don’t look, but there’s a creepy old dude over there checking you out,” Jenny murmured quietly.

Ignoring Jenny's advice, Olivia not only looked, she shouted out, "Hey, perv, she's fifteen!"

Since subtlety no longer mattered, Julie leaned forward to have a look at the source of this commotion. She saw a middle-aged man in his mid to early forties, with graying black hair, a full salt and pepper beard, a soft face and timid green eyes that flicked from Olivia’s scornful glare to Julie’s more inquisitive glance. Her dreamy blue eyes met his for a brief moment, and she saw a deep yearning in him before he quickly averted his gaze, nervous and perhaps ashamed.

Although mildly creeped out, she couldn’t help but pity this man, and so she spoke up to offer some sort of comfort, “Excuse my friend. She’s also only fifteen, and she hasn’t learned how to use tact.” She offered him her most disarming smile, and she thought she saw the slightest hint of a smile in return before Olivia retorted.

“Bullshit, bitch, this motherfucker keeps creepin’ on my friends and his ass is gonna be a tact.”

Julie laughed loudly at that, then grabbed Olivia’s arm and pulled her out of the booth they were in. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

“I haven’t finished my fries,” Olivia objected.

My fries,” Julie corrected. “And you can take them to go, come on.”

Jenny and Yadira followed them, murmuring something quietly amongst themselves. Once they were all outside in the parking lot, Jenny spoke with reproach, "Olivia, you crazy cunt, he could have been a serial killer!"

"So what if he was, serial killers don't kill people in public. They stalk their prey, and that fuck stick's still sitting in there eating his fucking cheeseburger," Olivia jerked her thumb at the huge glass window they were walking past. Julie peered through it and saw the man still on his stool, casting a furtive glance out at them. At her.

That creepy feeling returned to the pit of her stomach, but she shook it off. "She's right, and besides, you have better odds of being struck by lightning than being murdered by a serial killer," Julie added. "If you're gonna get murdered, it'll most likely happen by someone close to you. Like your boyfriend."

“Not me,” Jenny said. “Todd would never hurt me.”

“That’s what they always say before they’re brutally butchered,” Julie returned, grinning devilishly.

“Maybe Michael will brutally butcher you,” Jenny answered, with a grin of her own.

“Michael’s not my boyfriend, silly bitch.”

“Not anymore, but you’re even more likely to be killed by your ex.”

“He never was my boyfriend. We made out a couple times, and went on a few dates. That’s it.”

“Unrequited love is a huge motivation for butchery,” Jenny clapped back.

“Bitches, please, nobody’s getting butchered. If anybody tries to fuck with my girls, I’ll kick their fucking ass,” Olivia told them, and they all climbed in to Yadira’s BMW.

"So, where to now," Yadira asked from the driver's seat.

"Let's go to the pool," Jenny suggested.

"Fuck yeah, it's hot as fuck. The pool would feel bomb right now," Olivia agreed.

"Then I've gotta drive you all to your houses so you can change, and Olivia lives way over on Miller," Yadira complained.

"She can borrow one of my swimsuits," Jenny rebutted. Jenny and Olivia were both tiny. Barely five feet tall and no more than ninety pounds dripping wet. Julie sometimes wondered if they'd even hit puberty yet. At five foot five and just over a hundred and twenty-five pounds, Julie's tits were still a little underdeveloped, but she had the rounded ass and curvy figure one would expect in a post pubescent girl.

She would never fit into one of Jenny's suits like Olivia would, so when Yadira looked back at her she said, "Fine with me, but don't worry about going by my pad, I'm not gonna swim." She wasn't much of a swimmer anyway, and she always felt overly exposed in a swimsuit. Too many prying eyes.

"What are you gonna do then?" Jenny asked.

"I'll watch," but Julie was already thinking about catching a ride home and picking up a cucumber from the grocery store.

For a while she did just as she said, watching as Jenny and Olivia took turns jumping off the diving board and squealing, while Yadira treaded water in the deep end. It was one of those summer days where a fifteen-year-old kid could just relax and marvel at her own existence, at an age when it was easy to believe she had an eternity sprawled out before her, and everything in the world existed just for her. She had no idea she wouldn’t live to see the sunset.

The pool was outdoors, with a chain link fence surrounding it. There was a kiddie pool where toddlers splashed and mothers watched attentively, and the main attraction was large enough, starting off at three and a half feet deep, and spanning thirty yards in length and twenty feet in width, and deepening to nine and a half feet down where the diving board jutted out over the water like a stiff prick. Julie had paid her dollar fifty to get in, even though she wore basketball shorts and a tank top and had no intentions of jumping in.

Instead she lounged on one of the lawn chairs set off to the side and enjoyed the scenery. There was a muscular young man, perhaps twenty-two or twenty-three, swimming laps and throwing the occasional gainer off the board. He gave Julie warm feelings deep in her loins, and she did her best to imprint an image of him in her brain that she could call upon later. In her mind she saw him naked, caressing her smooth soft body with his chiseled hard one, then throwing her on the bed and pulling her hair as he stuck his giant cock up her ass.

She hadn't even noticed when Yadira got out of the pool, but when her phone sprang to life and she pulled it from her pocket, she saw the girl's face on the screen. As she touched the screen to answer a hand suddenly snatched it from her grasp, and she was lifted out of her chair from behind. A scream escaped her lips even as she began to understand what was happening. Yadira was a big girl, five foot eight and weighing close to a hundred and seventy pounds, and when she wrapped her arms around Julie and ran for the pool, Julie went with her, like it or not, until they both plummeted into the chilly depths.

"You bitch!" Julie shouted when she surfaced, but not without enough joviality to indicate she wasn't truly angry, then she splashed water at Yadira and began swimming for the edge of the pool in awkward strokes. Yadira splashed her back, but Julie didn’t engage further. It required her full attention to paddle to relative safety. Despite her soft body, Julie was an athlete, and on land she felt a sense of control and grace that vanished in the water. She was a capable enough swimmer to keep from drowning when thrown in the pool, but she was out of her comfort zone.

"Don't get out, slut. You're already in, just swim with us," Olivia pleaded.

The cute hunk of a man paddled past just then, and lifted himself from the pool like an aquatic god, droplets of water casting his well-toned muscles in a glistening light. As he padded barefoot to the base of the diving board, his sea-colored eyes met her sky blue ones, and butterflies fluttered in her stomach. "Fine, I'll stay in for a while," she conceded, tearing her gaze from this finely sculpted specimen so she could look at Olivia.

“I saw that, you whore!” Olivia squawked.

“Saw what?” Julie asked coyly.

“You just eye fucked Thor over there. You horny little ho.”

Julie feigned shock. “I did not!”

“I eye fucked him,” Jenny said unabashedly, climbing out of the pool and making her way to the board.

"I've been eye fucking him for the past half hour," Yadira admitted quietly, as they watched the man turn a double front flip with easy agility. Jenny followed him off the board, but instead of her usual jumping and squealing, she appeared to be trying to pull off a trick of some sort. It was difficult to tell, because her feet flew forwards as she managed only a feeble bounce, and as momentum took her legs out from under her, the back of her head came crashing into the board with a sickening crack, and she went limply into the water.

"Jenny!" Julie cried, and without a moment's consideration for her poor aquatic skills, she began swimming towards her friend. Before she was even relatively close to reaching her, the hulking hunk of a man had the unconscious girl in tow. He lifted her from the water like a ragdoll and placed her gently on the concrete. It was the part of the story where he would resuscitate her and she would wake up locking lips with him, but this wasn't a movie.

Instead he stood up, looked frantically around, and asked, "Does anybody know CPR or something?" It might have been comical if the situation wasn't so grim.

"Call 911!" Julie cried out, trying not to swallow water as she paddled pathetically across the pool.

"Right," the man said, as if this thought had never occurred to him, and he ran to a bench where his towel and clothes and other small items lay. He found his phone and began dialing.

Oh God, don't die, Jenny, Julie thought, making painfully slow progress through the pool. Somehow she still made it across before Yadira or Olivia, although she knew they were both better swimmers. Perhaps it was due to adrenaline, or her quick reflexes, or perhaps she wasn't as bad a swimmer as she thought and she just needed the proper motivation. No matter the reason, her friend was lying on her back, eyes closed and motionless, and Julie needed to reach her.

She lifted herself out of the pool and scrambled to her friend’s side, where the lifeguard on duty, a pretty seventeen-year-old brunette who took this job expecting to soak up some sun and shout at unruly kids every now and then, stood gawking stupidly. Julie placed a hand on Jenny's chest and a finger under Jenny's nose, and to her tremendous relief she felt the girl's ribs lower as she exhaled, and felt the soft expulsion of air on her finger, and then felt the expansion with the succeeding intake of breath. "She's breathing!" Julie called out to no one in particular. "She's breathing," she repeated in a softer voice, laughing and sobbing at the same time.

Yadira and Olivia arrived beside her, and they all exchanged nervous glances, none of them quite knowing what to do next. Julie looked over at Thor, who was walking towards them, talking on his phone. "She's breathing, she's alive," she told him, wiping the tears from her soft, pink cheeks.

"Yes, she's breathing, her friend says,” Thor said to his phone. “I think she just knocked herself unconscious."

"Come on, wake up, you stupid cunt," Olivia murmured.

Julie looked from her friend to the man, who continued the conversation with the 911 operator. "Jonathan Gates... yes G-A-T-E-S." Then he rattled off a series of numbers that Julie understood was his phone number, and she found herself trying to memorize it. Even as she told herself she was much too young for this guy, she imagined calling him up late that evening and having a lengthy, flirtatious conversation with him, blissfully unaware she would be dead before evening fall.

Wow, I'm a terrible person, she thought. My friend is lying here unconscious, maybe in a coma, maybe dying, and I'm day dreaming about guys.

Olivia kept telling Jenny to, "Wake up, goddamit, wake up you fucking cunt," and Jonathan continued talking on the phone, rattling off facts, and Julie sat there in a daze, feeling utterly useless. This went on for perhaps a minute or two, or perhaps an eternity, before Jenny's eyes slowly fluttered open.

"Stop calling me a cunt, you whore," she told Olivia, and Julie, Yadira, and Olivia all laughed hysterically at that.

“Oh thank God,” the lifeguard muttered in the background.

"She's awake," they heard Jonathan announce excitedly, and the girls all cast their eyes his way. He was still on the phone with the 911 operator, sharing the good news.

"This is Jonathan. He saved your life," Julie told Jenny.

Jonathan looked confused. "Have we met?" he asked, covering the receiving end of the phone.

[I]Oh shit![/i] All the blood rushed to Julie's face, turning her adorable visage a bright shade of red as she realized her blunder. Unable to come up with a convincing lie, Julie just admitted to eaves-dropping. "I... heard you on the phone. Jonathan Gates, right?" She smiled nervously.

"Yeah, that's right," he acknowledged. Then, to the phone he said, "Yeah, I'll tell her, thanks." Looking at Jenny he said, "They advise you not to move too much. An ambulance is on the way. You might have a concussion." Then speaking to the phone again, he thanked the operator and ended the call. Extending a hand to Julie he smiled charmingly and said, "Jonathan."

Julie eagerly took his hand and shook it, then with a big goofy grin she replied, “Julie, nice to meet you.”

“Olivia,” Olivia told him with a little wave.

“I’m Jenny,” Jenny said dreamily.

“Yaya,” Yadira offered.

“Nice to meet you all.” Then to Jenny he added, “You scared the shit out of me.”

Jenny gave him a bashful look. “Yeah, well, thanks for saving my life.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m sure your friends would have saved you anyway,” he looked at Julie. “I just got there first.” With that the man walked back over to his stuff, picked up a towel and began drying off.

“Did he give me mouth to mouth?” Jenny asked, looking hopeful.

Julie giggled. “Nope, sorry.”

“Yeah, Julie fucked that up for you. She told him you were breathing,” Olivia added.

They all smiled and laughed, and Julie offered an apology for fucking up Jenny’s chance to French kiss Jonathan, and when the ambulance came Jenny got a ride to the hospital. The EMT’s concluded that she did in fact have a concussion, and it was better to be safe than sorry.

With their desire to swim quelled, Julie had Yadira drop her off at her neighborhood grocery store, where she carefully picked out a perfectly sized cucumber before walking home.

Stripped of all her clothes, Julie admired her reflection in the full length vanity mirror next to her closet. It was hard to believe only a few years ago she had been a pudgy and unattractive tween. She ran her hands over her perfectly rounded buttocks, up along her shapely hips, splayed them against her soft flat tummy, feeling her warmth there, then moved them up and cupped her perky and budding young breasts. She pretended they were Jonathan's hands, and jiggled her tits before squeezing and pinching her nipples.

With a soft sigh she moved to her bed and lay down, cucumber in hand. Here goes nothing, she thought, and she began to shove the phallic vegetable up her ass. In her mind it was Jonathan's huge cock invading her, and at first it brought nothing but discomfort. After a bit of prodding and maneuvering however, she felt the first pangs of pleasure. It was a peculiar pleasure, as it was accompanied by dull pain, but that somehow made it better. She pushed the cucumber deeper, and found a way to rotate and massage it against a wall of flesh deep inside her that must have been connected to her clit.

Her titillation intensified, and soft moans began to emanate from her plush lips. Her hips gyrated and she plunged the cucumber deeper still, sucking air over her teeth. Explosions of ecstasy ravaged through her, and she began to cry out. Her parents both worked until the late afternoon and her brother was away at summer camp, so she had no reason to hold it in. Delectation washed over her in waves, and she felt a culmination of epic proportions coming, and fought to stave it off. Not yet. Let me enjoy this a little longer. She bit her lip and moved the cucumber ever so slightly, trying to delay the coming apex of stimulation, but she needn't worry - she would never achieve an orgasm, not now or ever again.

It was at that precise moment that a bullet smashed into her vulva, barreling deep into her innards, glancing off her spine and coming to rest after bursting through the lining of her stomach. Her immense pleasure was almost immediately stolen from her, replaced instead by a horrible pressure cascading from her abdomen to her groin. A second bullet quickly followed the first, again punching into her vagina and carving a path through her cervix and uterus and wreaking havoc on her intestines before coming to a stop beside her spinal column.

Julie had her back arched and her hips raised in the air when she accepted those first two slugs, and as she dropped her butt on the bed, shoving the cucumber all the way inside her anus, she was shot a third time. This time the bullet entered her pussy but took a slightly different trajectory, shearing off the tip of the cucumber that was buried in her colon, and exiting her body near the top of her lumbar region.

"Oh fuck," Julie gasped, sitting up and spotting the man in the corner of her room. Who was he and how long had he been there? Why had he shot her in the snatch? Would she still be able to have kids? Could she still pleasure herself? Was she dying? So many questions swirled in her mind, but aloud she simply said, "You shot me in the cunt."

With one hand pressed against her belly and the other holding her vajayjay, trying to stem the massive flow there that was pouring down her thighs, Julie stood up. Blood from the hole in her stomach welled up through her esophagus and spilled over her lips and down her chin. "I think I need a tampon," she said sullenly, and she headed for the door.

The man watched her with attentive eyes, but she barely looked at him. She noticed the silencer on his pistol, but quickly looked away. She wanted to believe he wasn't there, that this wasn't real. So she walked out of the room and into the hallway. There was a foray leading to the back yard not thirty feet away, and she was determined to make it there.

A few steps into the hallway she was shot again. The bullet bore into the small of her back and exited to the lower left of her navel. Julie squawked, placed a hand against the wall to steady herself, and looked down to examine the exit wound. As she was staring at her smooth soft tummy, three more holes opened up around her navel in the space of about a second. "Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck." Blood spurted and streamed from her belly, and Julie glanced back over her shoulder at her shooter and offered him a thin smile. "Nice shooting."

I can still survive this, she told herself, and she faced forward and continued down the hall. A couple steps later she was shot a little higher up, the bullet tore through her liver, and the exit wound opened in the right side of her upper abdomen. “Christ on a cracker,” she muttered, and when she tried to continue walking she lost her footing and fell to her knees. The foray was still a good twenty feet away.

Her left hand remaining on the wall, her right hand clutching her midsection, Julie shuffled forward on her knees, then caught her ninth bullet of the day. It entered to the right of her spine and cut a groove through some blood vessels and tissue before exiting beneath her right breast. Her back arched, she grunted in pain and leaned forward, and finally fell face first on her stomach. I’ve gotta keep moving. I’ve gotta get outside. If someone had asked her why, what she expected to happen once she was outside, she wouldn’t have had an answer, but as long as she was moving, she wasn’t dying.

She picked herself up on her elbows and knees and began a broken version of a military crawl. She hadn’t covered more than a foot or two when she was shot in the left hamstring. She cried out softly, but didn’t stop. Two more rounds quickly followed, both striking her in the left buttock, chewing through fat and muscle before lodging themselves against her pelvis. “Ooooo, fuck my life,” she murmured, and continued to crawl. The foray was maybe fifteen feet away when she was shot in the asshole. The cucumber shattered, shards of the ruined vegetable shooting up into the tangles of her intestines, and the bullet ripped out of Julie’s body a couple inches above her navel.

Her hips fell to the ground, but she continued pulling herself forward on her elbows. She was becoming more and more certain that she was dying, but she still couldn’t stop. In fact she was shocked to discover how badly she wanted to live, and that her faith in an afterlife was so superficial it had completely abandoned her now. Even as she saw the man standing over her in her peripheral vision, and the foray was still at least ten feet away, she didn’t give up.

It wasn’t until she was shot for the fourteenth time and her right nipple disappeared, sheared away by a chunk of expanding lead and bits of flesh, lung, and bone, that she finally stopped. She lay in agony and exhaustion, with her left cheek against the floor, then flipped herself onto her back, her sensual lips peeled back in a snarl as blood sprayed through her gritted teeth. She wanted to get a better look at the man who was killing her.

“You,” she said, recognizing the soft face, the graying hair, and the green eyes that were no longer timid. It was the man from McDonald’s, whom she had tried to comfort. So he had been stalking her. He was a serial killer after all. Julie couldn’t believe it. Life truly was stranger than fiction. She managed a pained giggle, then told her killer, “Olivia would never believe it. I've been serial killed. I had a better chance of getting struck by lightning.” She laughed again, but her laughter trailed into a sob, and her killer shot her in the left breast, destroying her other nipple and puncturing her other lung.

She lifted her head to look at her ruined body, remembering how hearty and hale she had looked just minutes earlier when she had been eyeballing herself in the mirror, and she marveled at how quickly things had changed. Less than a minute ago she had been feeling the greatest pleasure of her young life, and now she was in more agony, misery and anguish than she ever imagined possible.

As she laid her head back on the carpet, blood streaming from her nostrils and pouring from the corners of her mouth, she met her killer’s gaze for the second time that day and saw how much he was enjoying this. It made her consider the terrible injustice of a kind, caring, innocent fifteen-year-old girl dying so this graying old man could get his kicks. Life was so unfair.

Her final minutes wound down there, on the floor of her hallway, blood pooling under her naked body, sharp pain stabbing through her midriff and her mind in the grips of panic as she grappled with the finality of death, before she eventually suffocated on her own blood.


I guess nobody cared for this last story? Any feedback about what I could do better?


well, it was fine, but you already wrote a story about a serial killer shooting her many times. and that one was better imo. but keep up the good work nonetheless !


Nothing wrong with it, just not as engaging as the others. The murderer is silent and an uninteresting killer, and Julie doesn't even get a fighting chance.


Thank you both for your feedback. Those are valid points, and I definitely had more fun writing Julie's Road Trip, which is probably why you liked it better. I had to force myself through this story at times because I wanted to finish it for Pussy Shooter, who seems to have vanished. *shrugs*

I'm working on a few different things now, and I'll try not to be too repetitive. I gotta be honest though, I love writing about Julie fighting against her death, but sometimes I like it when she doesn't even get a fighting chance, and at least one of the stories I'm currently writing is similar in that regard.


if there are times you feel like you have to force yourself to finish a story, might i suggest writing some shorts? she's banging a dude and he cuts her throat suddenly before climaxing, or like she's in a horrible car accident and wakes up from a coma after months to realize the doctors have all been using her but they give her a lethal dose to keep from getting caught when they notice she's awake. etc. idk, short little stories like that to keep your own excitement going


I liked this story, well written. I liked the end myself. It showed a very confused Julie, one who was not able to put her thoughts together, which I think was good. The only thing I might have done is cut out the part at the pool. I wasn't sure how that connected, but the mcdonalds part and the part at her home I thought were good. The swimming pool part was well written, just wasn't sure what purpose it served in the story. Good job though!


It was a good story. I still enjoyed it, but it is one of your weaker ones.

I prefer when Julie has to fight for her life while being fucked up personally.

Actually, if you don't mind bloodlust. Could I try my hand at making a story with Julie? I feel inspired reading your stuff and thought I would as as she is essentially your OC.



Absolutely, I wouldn't mind at all. In fact, I'd love to read it if you could let me know when it's finished.


With the durability she shows in these stories, she would be absolutely terrifying if she was the killer.


I like your stuff. The name of the victim as well as many of the ways she is hurt drive very close to home for me, in a good way.


Well here's a short, older story that I'm not particularly proud of, but I rewrote a few lines and completely rewrote the ending to stick with the theme of Julie fighting for her life while being fucked up, and it shows off that legendary durability.


Julie vs. the Terrorists

"Is it me or is this day dragging ass?" Julie asked.

"Oh I know, right? When is this shit gonna fucking end?" Erika agreed.

Two periods remained before they earned their afternoon reprieve, and Julie couldn't wait for the bus ride home. She had received a curbside basketball goal for her seventeenth birthday the previous weekend, and had spent hours on end wearing out the net. In her head she was already there, dribbling up and down the street outside her house, draining jumpers, raining down threes, and sinking free throws. In reality, sixth period Chemistry had just gotten underway, and Mrs. Phelps was lecturing them about protons and electrons or some tedious bullshit which Julie could not be less concerned with.

"You wanna come over and shoot some hoops today?"

Erika frowned. "Dude, I wish, freaking Garcia loaded us up with a freaking shit ton of homework."

"Sure, sure, you just don't want me to school you, bitch."

Erika opened her mouth, feigning shock, and replied with the hint of a smile, "What-ever, bitch."

Julie giggled. "It's okay. You don't have to be ashamed. Nobody likes getting their ass handed to them."

"Puh-lease, girl. You don't even want none."

"Yeah, okay, so is that a yes?"

"I really can't."

"Just come over for an hour or two and do your fucking homework later."

"Julie, you don't understand, this shit is gonna take all damn night."

"Ladies!" Mrs. Phelps shouted at them. "Do you have something to share with the rest of the class?"

Julie's cheeks flushed red, and Erika replied, "No. Sorry about that, Mrs. Phelps."

"No more interruptions, please." Before she could resume her lecture, however, she suffered one final interruption. Three men clad in military style fatigues stormed into the classroom unannounced, their faces hidden behind ski masks. One stood well over six feet tall with broad shoulders and a husky build and an AK-47 cradled in his arms, one was unremarkable except for his tan ski mask, which contrasted with the black masks of his fellow intruders, and the submachine gun held at hip level and the pistol strapped to his back, and the third was a bit on the portly side and carried a tripod and a movie camera. The big guy and Tan Ski Mask Guy promptly opened fire on the Chemistry teacher, riddling her with bullets.

Things seemed to slow down for Julie at that point. She heard the distinct cries of each of her classmates as they screamed in horror, the screeching of chairs as they were hastily emptied, the clatter of shells falling on the marble floor tiles. She could hear the rattle of gun fire outside, in the hallways or other classrooms throughout the school. She heard Erika gasp, "oh shit," as she clamped her hand around Julie's arm like a vice, and she smelled the bitter odor of urine as someone pissed his or herself.

When the shooting stopped, Mrs. Phelps stumbled back against the dry erase board and toppled over backwards. Amazingly, despite being shot dozens of times, she still managed to lift her head and babble something incoherent to the class before lying back down and dying. A few more sporadic gunshots rang out from various locations in the school, and then all that could be heard was the whimpering of Julie's Chemistry class.

In the relative silence the big guy stepped forward to address them. "Everybody return to your seats and keep quiet. If your government cooperates, this will all be over soon." Julie hadn't even bothered to vacate her seat, as she had seen little point in cowering in a corner that offered no escape or protection. Erika had risen to her feet, but she had remained at Julie's side, her hand latched firmly around Julie's right forearm. When she loosened her grip a red ring remained, marking the flesh she had squeezed.

Julie sat calmly as her peers returned shakily to their chairs, and Erika eased back into hers. "Julie, what the fuck?" Erika whispered, but Julie quickly shushed her. Their captors had instructed them to remain quiet, and so she would. She had no desire to end up like Mrs. Phelps.

"Julie!" Erika said again, and this time it wasn't Julie who shushed her, but rather their unwelcome guests. Erika heeded their warning. Aside from a few sniffles and sobs from her classmates, an uncomfortable silence filled the room, palpable enough to choke on.

After nearly half an hour of quiet time, another masked stranger entered the room and said something to the other gunmen in a language Julie didn't recognize. They acknowledged him with gruff noises and nearly imperceptible nods, and he disappeared back into the hallway. The tallest of the three then approached Erika's desk and pulled her to her feet. The girl squawked and struggled but she was easily handled by the well built henchman, and he tossed her against the wall and drilled her in the her chest with several rounds from his AK while the portly man filmed it.

This was enough to elicit a startled cry from Julie, and there were several screams from the rest of the class. It got Julie thinking that obedience and patience might not pan out, and perhaps it was time to take action. Her gaze met Erika's, and looking into the eyes of her dying friend she saw the terrible hopelessness of death. It was not an experience Julie wanted to share.

While the three men's attention was focused on the fatally wounded teenager, Julie slipped out of her chair like liquid lightning and swiped the big guy's pistol from his back holster. Before he could completely turn around she had put a bullet in his brain, and he dropped like a sack of potatoes. She turned the gun on the guy in the tan ski mask and fired just as he squeezed the trigger on his SMG, and while her shot struck her target in the face, his rounds went wide, two of them barely managing to clip Julie in her left shoulder and upper bicep. She twisted with the impact but quickly recovered, then took aim at the camera man.

The portly man who had appeared to be unarmed found a small revolver in the pocket of his trousers and was in the process of raising it when Julie plugged him in the chest. He went down, but as he fell he returned fire, putting a hole in Julie's right thigh. Julie cried out and rattled off four more shots into the fallen camera man, neutralizing the threat.

"Holy shit," she grunted, then bent over at the waist and vomited on her shoes.

"You got shot," Barry told her. Barry was a shy kid who always sat close to Julie when they had class together, so he could ogle her.

Julie looked at him, then looked at her shoulder and her leg and nodded. She wore faded and bleached blue jeans, which provided a stark contrast for the scarlet blood trickling down her thigh, and a sleeveless white cotton half shirt, leaving her softly sloping square shoulders, smoothly rounded arms, and soft, flat tummy bare, so the wounds were clearly visible. "Yeah, three times."

"Doesn't it hurt?" Barry asked.

"Fuck yeah, it fucking hurts. So who wants to get the fuck out of here?" When nobody made a move to join her, Julie stared at them all in bewilderment. "Seriously? Nobody wants to escape?"

"There's more of them out there, Julie," Gracie told her.

"Yeah, and if you stay here they're gonna find you."

"If we go out there they can find us, too, and they'll kill us."

"You think staying in your seats will protect you? Look at Erika, for fuck's sake." Erika was still breathing, although she was fading fast. Her mortal wounds were not enough to garner Julie any followers, however. "Whatever, I'm not waiting around for these fuckers to kill me." Julie cast a scornful glance around the classroom, then hobbled out into the hallway.

The halls appeared to be deserted, which was a stroke of luck for Julie. Leaning against the wall for support, she was able to limp along while keeping most of her weight off her right leg. Eighty yards separated Mrs. Phelps' classroom from the front doors of the school, and Julie had just passed the halfway point when a gunshot boomed behind her. She felt the slug punch into her left buttock and rip out the front of her left hip, and she sunk to her knees. Another round quickly followed the first, this time striking her in the lower back, an inch to the left of her spine, and exiting to the left of her navel. An alarming amount of blood sprayed the wall and the tiled floor ahead of her, but Julie just bit her lip and twisted around to shoot back.

Her attacker was only about twenty feet behind her, and the first time she squeezed the trigger she drilled him square in the chest. Unfortunately the Beretta she wielded lacked stopping power, and she suffered another gun shot wound just below her right collar bone before she emptied out the clip, putting eight more rounds into the poor, hapless soul who made the ill-fated decision to fire on her.

Having vanquished her fourth foe, Julie leaned back against the wall and sighed, "Shit." Shot six times. I've been fucking shot six fucking times! The good news was that most of the wounds did not appear to be life threatening, except for the gaping hole in her tummy that was spurting blood like a water fountain. If she could somehow slow the bleeding though, maybe she'd be alright. Nothing vital had been damaged. She might need her intestines stitched up a bit, but that was doable.

She was clutching her belly and working up the courage to stand when she heard another gunshot ring out down the hallway and felt a sudden pressure in her upper abdomen. A fresh bullet hole had appeared just below her rib cage on the left side of her body, and she spotted the person responsible twenty yards away and closing. Although she knew it was hopeless, she lifted her gun and squeezed the trigger, the firing pin falling on an empty chamber. Hearing the dry click, Julie tossed the gun and pleaded for mercy. "Please, help me! I don't wanna die." Blood spattered from her lips as she spoke. So much for keeping my vital organs in tact.

Instead of help her pursuer gave her another bullet hole in her gut, plugging her a couple inches above and slightly left of her belly button.

"Oooof," Julie groaned. She rolled onto her hands and knees and started crawling away, and she caught another round in the back, just below her left shoulder blade. "Ahhh." She reared up and another bullet bit into the left side of her back. "Uhhnn." Julie reached awkwardly around behind herself with her left hand, and ended up leaning back against the wall again.

Her beautiful blue eyes looked up to find the hollow end of a gun barrel hovering in front of her face, and she squealed quietly. "Please, I'll do anything. I'll suck your dick, just don't kill me."

"Alright. Suck it, bitch." When the terrorist grabbed a handful of her soft, brown, shoulder-length hair and exposed his throbbing, erect penis, Julie didn't hesitate. Surprisingly, she felt no shame for her begging, or for granting sexual favors in exchange for her life. Evidently her need to live far outweighed her self respect. Perhaps the shame would come later, but she could live with a bit of shame. She couldn't live with anything if she was dead.

He kept the pistol pointed at her temple, and her every movement brought her excruciating agony, but as the man attached to the penis in her mouth grew closer and closer to climaxing, his focus was lost. Julie surprised herself with her quickness as her left hand moved faster than the blink of an eye, gripping the barrel of the gun and pushing it away, and her perfect teeth clamped down hard. With a ripping motion, turning her head and grinding her teeth, she severed the man's cock.

She spat the grotesque piece of meat out and saw that she now held the pistol, as the dickless man screeched in horror and gripped his crotch. Julie put him out of his misery with a bullet in his forehead. She swiped the blood from her face and mouth with the back of her hands, then went back to work trying to stand up. The exit was only thirty yards away. Outside there were no doubt law enforcement officers and emergency personnel waiting to assist. She could make it. She had to.

It was incredible how much effort she had to exert, how sapped her strength was, but she pushed against the wall and drew upon every ounce of her considerable will power, until at last she was back on her feet. Now she just needed to walk. She thought the first step would be the most difficult, but she soon found the second to be just as trying, if not more so. As she contemplated the third step, she had to fight a bout of dizziness. As if simply walking with ten gun shot wounds in her body wasn't enough, her situation quickly worsened.

There were three classroom doors along the hallway prior to her intended destination, two on the left and one on the right. To her horror an armed man came out of one on of the doors on the left and another from the door on the right, almost simultaneously. The man to her left carried an uzi .9 mm, and the other held a rifle like the one that had been used to kill Erika. Julie targeted the man on the right first, and thanks to the element of surprise she caught him unawares and took off the top of his skull.

The rattattattat of automatic gunfire erupted from her left, and a bullet made it's way into the left side of her midriff, but the man's aim was sporadic as he shot from the hip, and she could hear the impact of numerous bullets striking the wall behind her, and she felt the sting of chips and debris flying off the tiles and pummeling her soft flesh. She turned towards him, raising her gun, and three bullets punched into her tummy before she could fire. One just to the right of her navel, another about an inch further to the right, and the third about an inch and a half above the second.

Her aim was spoiled, and her bullet grazed the man's left shoulder. The submachine gun continued to jump in the man's hands like a living thing, and two bullets found their way into the right side of Julie's chest, and another took a piece of flesh off the right side of her neck. A split second before another slug struck Julie in her right shoulder, she got off a well aimed shot that hit her foe center mass.

This knocked him off balance and his bullets went far wide of her, but as he slumped to the floor he managed to reposition his weapon and send a burst of lead into Julie's right thigh, four shots in total ripping into her. "Bastard!" she cursed him as she leaned against the wall, clutching her leg with her free hand and struggling to remain upright, and then she shot the fucker in the face.

As things quieted down and the stench of gunpowder and blood hung in the air, Julie took a moment to compose herself and assess the situation. She looked down at her bullet riddled torso and realized she had been shot so many times so quickly that she had lost count of the wounds, but her heart was still beating and she had breath in her lungs, so she had to keep fighting. Walking had an added challenge now, with her left hip in ruins and her right quads punctured in five different places, but she used the wall as a brace and stumbled towards the exit.

She kept expecting someone else to come out of the classrooms ahead of her, and because of that she tried to keep the pistol at the ready, but when she cleared ten feet and that didn't happen, she began to wonder if she had thinned their ranks so much that they were running out of men to send after her. That was an encouraging thought. "Fuck with Julie, you get the horns," she muttered to herself, and giggled. What she didn't expect was for the doors she was fighting so hard to reach to suddenly spring open, and a SWAT team to come pouring through them.

A huge sense of relief washed over Julie, and she pushed off the wall and held out her arms to accept her saviors, forgetting she still held the pistol. Instead of saving her, four of the cops that came rushing into the school opened fire on her. Two MP5 submachine guns, a Colt M4 carbine, and a Remington 870 12 gauge lit her up all at once, very quickly turning her torso into a human sieve.

Two 12 gauge shells were expended, all twenty-four of the balls striking her first in the stomach, then in the right breast, most of the shot making its way clean through her body. Twelve 5.56 mm rounds stitched her from the belly up to her left shoulder, and twenty-one .40 caliber Smith and Wesson bullets punched through her gut, her chest, her shoulders, and her upper arms. Julie dropped the gun she held and fell to her knees, her blue eyes wide and staring.

Her soft buttocks came down on her heels, and she watched, dumbfounded as the SWAT team moved smooth as silk through the hallway, sweeping the rooms and delivering their brand of swift justice to whatever terrorists still opposed them. A team of eight streaked past her with barely a second glance, and she guessed they'd soon be in the room she had cleared all by herself. She wondered if it was too late to save Erika, and figured it probably was.

As she finally collapsed on her back and stared up at the ceiling, she wondered if the SWAT team would have still come in when they did if she hadn't tried to fight her way out. Would she have been safe if she had just stayed in her seat? Could she have been saved if she hadn't been so careless with her gun? She'd never know the answers to these questions, but they plagued her as she faded off into an eternity of nothingness.


Ahhhh~ Another wonderful death ^_^ Must say I really enjoy your stories where Julie gets packed with bullets over time. When there's hope of surviving, but with each new wound that hope thins.


I remember reading that story with the terrorists a few years ago somewhere, perhaps it was on Deadskirts.

I certainly love this rewriting you did with it, and how you handled Julie in it, like you said yourself; fighting hard and showing off her legendary durability.
That's definitely my favorite aspect of your Julie. She's such a damn tough cookie, impossibly so, it's always fun to read about her fighting and struggling through the most impossible situations.

I was almost hoping for one of the SWAT guys to notice her still barely alive as the rest of them swept the building, and being amazed by her tenacity to live as he emptied the rest of his magazine into her... No, wait... still moving; Make that two magazines.


Yeah, it was deadskirts. I haven’t posted stories there in a long time because I think my style is a little too brutal and blood-thirsty for that crowd, and I like to imagine adolescent girls biting the dust sometimes (DS has rules to “protect” fictional characters under the age of 18, or something). The idea of someone who is emotionally immature and just starting to come into their own having everything taken from them strikes a cord with me.

I’m glad others appreciate the buckets of bullets approach I often take with Julie. Sometimes I start a story thinking she’ll just be shot once or twice or three times, but I can never stop there and I often feel like I overdo it.

That said, I’m working on a story that goes in a slightly different direction, where she doesn’t fight back and she doesn’t take multiple clips before going down. Hopefully there is still an audience for that here.


Sounds fun to me, but you know what I'm gonna ask for lol


I'm all for it.


Julie Gets Culled

Julie was three years old when the final rebel states fell to the Global Order, and the world was united at last. She remembered none of the atrocities committed during that time of strife, and her history classes and news programs conveniently omitted that information.

All she knew was humanity had finally achieved world peace, and for nine years life was calm, easy, and prosperous in her region. In fact, in many ways it was a wonderful time to be alive. Medical breakthroughs had completely eradicated disease and illness, and even the aging process had been defeated with genetic engineering. The oldest known human had lived one hundred and seventy-eight years, and showed no signs of stopping. Barring a violent end, people had no reason to believe they'd ever die.

The downside to that was over population. Advancements in the food industry had made feeding the masses easier, and water was being purified at amazing rates, but a lack of housing and clothing made living conditions in some regions nearly unbearable. To combat this, even petty crime often carried a death sentence, and more severe sentences involved wiping out entire bloodlines, so that lengthy life expectancy could be cut terribly short for those struggling to make ends meet. Fortunately for Julie, her family and her region were well off.

When she was twelve years old, that security suddenly changed. Executions for petty crimes were no longer enough to cull the steadily increasing population, so new culling laws were passed. A select group of citizens would be issued culling cards, and they would be responsible for culling five people of their choosing each year. They were permitted to use any execution method they wished, but the executions must be public, with plenty of witnesses so there could be no doubts as to what took place. Interfering with a culling meant a brutal end to you and your entire bloodline, all the way down to second cousins.

There were also laws protecting cullers and their families from other cullers, laws protecting government officials, laws protecting children under the age of sixteen, and laws preventing cullers from using their power for extortion. This meant a culler must complete a background check on anyone they planned to cull, or risk the ultimate punishment. A culler would also be executed should they fail to complete their civic duty of five cullings per year.

The night these laws were passed, Jack stayed over at Julie's house. They were next door neighbors and had been best friends since they could walk. The news sent a chill into both of them, and as they lay in their sleeping bags with the lights out, Jack asked, "Julie, do you ever think about dying?"

"Dude, fuck yes. I think about it a lot when I'm alone."

"Does it scare you?"

"It's pretty much the only thing to fear now, isn't it?"

"It's hard to imagine, everything just coming to an end."

"Forever. I know. Like, you never get to come back. You never get to do anything or think anything or remember anything. Ever." Julie trembled slightly just saying it out loud.

"How did people do it, back when they died after just seventy or eighty years?"

"They believed in an afterlife," Julie answered. "I guess they didn't worry about death, because they believed they'd still live on. Even after they died."

"That sounds stupid. I wonder if they really believed that."

Julie shrugged. "Yeah, I guess it does sound stupid, but if I knew I was gonna die, I'd wanna believe it too."

"I guess."

"I kinda hope that if I die, it's quick. Like super quick, like I don't even wanna know it's happening. You know? Like what could be worse than just sitting there, knowing that you're dying, and there's nothing you can do about it? It really fucks with your head."

"You don't think we'll get culled, do you?"

"Fuck, I hope not. Can you imagine?" Julie looked over at Jack and saw him looking at her with wide, fearful eyes, as if he was imagining that very thing.

"Will you apply for a culling card when you're old enough?" he asked her.

"I don't know, I mean killing someone? That's fucking intense."

"But you'd be protected. You'd be safe."

"Maybe my dad will get a culling card," she said, feeling hopeful at that thought.

"Maybe," Jack said thoughtfully. "I think I might apply."

That put an idea in Julie's head. "Jack?"


"If... Will you promise to marry me if you get a culling card?"

Jack appeared to consider it for a moment. "Then we'd be family, right? And you'd be protected."

Julie nodded.

"Okay, yeah, sure," Jack agreed. "But what if I don't get a culling card?"

Julie smiled. "You still wanna get married?"

"Maybe, I don't know."

"We'll see then." Julie began to feel better about the whole situation after that, and besides, she still had almost three years before anybody could cull her, and three years was a long time.

Julie's first experience with the new culling laws came a little over a year later, when she was just over fourteen years old and a freshman in high school. She and Jack had been outside their school, waiting for the first bell to ring and commence the start of their day. The band hall stood between the parking lot and the rest of the school, and they were hanging around that vicinity when Jack spotted the hit squad and pointed them out to Julie.

It was three people; they were clearly not high schoolers and they walked at a brisk pace, but they otherwise appeared to be ordinary people. Adults in plain clothes, who did not appear threatening in any way until they reached Alicia, a pretty junior in denim shorts who was leaning with her back against the wall, talking to a couple of boys. That’s when their purpose became clear, as all three made Glock 19 9mm's appear, and the one in the middle produced a badge that she held up in front of her.

"Alicia Belle?"

Alicia's dark brown eyes widened, as she seemed to notice for the first time the two women and one man who had come to kill her, and she answered cautiously, "Who wants to know?"

The woman in the middle continued as if Alicia’s response was unimportant. "As second cousin of Lou Bodella, you are hereby sentenced to death for his crime of culling interference. Have you any final words?"

The two boys who had been chatting her up mysteriously vanished, leaving Alicia alone and boxed in, an assassin to her left, an assassin to her right, one directly in front, and the band hall at her back. Alicia seemed flabbergasted. “I don’t even know who that is,” she managed, just before all three killers opened fire. Bullets struck her in the belly, bullets peppered her breasts, and bullets ripped through her upper arms and shoulders.

There were too many shots to count, but Alicia remained standing when the gunfire ceased, her thick and powerful legs shockingly resilient. Her killers nodded to each other, put away their weapons and walked off as briskly as they had arrived, leaving Alicia in tattered ruins, her back still against the wall, her pretty face speckled with blood, her brown eyes staring and shell shocked.

Alicia took a step forward, looking around for help, and Julie resisted an urge to run to her. The girl was clearly beyond help, and she was condemned. Attempting to save her might be seen as a criminal act, and Julie liked living, so she watched as Alicia took another step, her brunette pony tail bobbing cutely, her blood spilling from dozens of holes, and nobody moved.

“I flulphsss” Alicia said, blood spraying from her soft lips, her sweet brown eyes accusing every one of her spectators, and she finally fell to the ground. Julie expected that to be the end of it, but the spectacle continued for some time. Alicia tried to crawl for a bit, but she was mostly unsuccessful, then she flipped onto her back and let loose some truly harrowing sobs, lifting her head to look around every so often. She held on for an astonishing amount of time before finally lying still, her eyes hauntingly vacant.

When it was over Julie leaned over and vomited, as did a few others who had witnessed this massacre. It was alarming to think about how unexpected and how undeserved this poor girl's death had been. A man she had never met, Lou Bodella, Julie remembered, had apparently tried to interfere with state sanctioned murder, and because of that Alicia paid with her life. Before they left the yard and began what would be a very grim day at school, Julie used her phone to snap a couple photos of Alicia's corpse.

As soon as she got home she looked up all her relatives online, men and women she had also never met, some she had never heard of, and she emailed them. She sent them pictures of herself, and she sent them Alicia's picture, along with a brief synopsis of what had happened at school that morning. She pleaded with them to consider her promising young life should they ever be a witness to a culling, and to not do anything that could lead her to the same end as Alicia.

It took up most of her afternoon, and at night as she lie in her bed, Alicia was all she could think about. She kept returning to the photos she had snapped on her phone, and staring at them. Alicia's dead eyes. Beautiful brown eyes that had been so kind and sharp and alert were now just empty and lifeless. It was oddly captivating, and while it filled her belly with dread, there was something else there as well. As midnight neared and sleep didn't come she snuck out her bedroom window and crept next door.

After a few taps on Jack's window, she saw that he was having just as much success as she was at finding sleep. He lifted the window and Julie climbed inside.

"Can't sleep?" he asked her.

"Fuck no. I'm still creeped out. I emailed everybody in my family. I thought it would help me relax, but fuck. She didn't even know him, Jack. Can you believe it? Can you imagine?"

"I know, it's a mind fuck. That was smart though, Julie, emailing your family. I should have thought of that."

Julie grinned at him. "What are you trying to say, you're supposed to be the smart one?"

"No. I mean... it's a good idea. I'm going to..."

"Shut up, you idiot," Julie giggled. "I'm fucking with you."

"Yeah, well you're right. You're the smart one. I'm going to look up my family tomorrow and get in touch with anyone I don't know. Make sure they know whose lives they'll be fucking with if they interfere in a culling."

Julie nodded. "You know what's strange though? I keep looking at her photo. Her dead eyes. It's creepy, but... It makes me feel..." She was hesitant to say it out loud.

Jack looked at her intently, and she thought he could read her thoughts. Perhaps it was obvious what she wanted to say - she had been told she had a very expressive face. Either way, he finished her sentence for her, "like you want to fuck?"

Julie felt a slew of words die in her throat, and she nodded again.

"I've heard death can be a powerful aphrodisiac," Jack added.

"Does it make you horny too?" she asked him, her blue eyes wide and inquisitive.

"No," he answered, and she felt her heart drop for a second, but then he continued, "but you do."

Julie sprung forward and kissed him. It was their first kiss, the first time either of them had kissed anyone romantically, but there were no reservations in that kiss. Nothing held back. Julie felt so much passion flowing through her, she couldn't stop. She pushed Jack onto his bed, and as they sucked each other's faces, they began clawing at one another's clothes. Very soon they were naked, lying together, and Julie took Jack's throbbing penis and slid it inside of herself.

There was no worry of pregnancy. All teen girls who were well to do received a shot after their first period, which provided a genetic altercation that halted ovulation and greatly increased the blood supply, making teen pregnancy a poor person's problem, and as an added bonus it made death from traumatic injury much less likely. There were some who had regenerative abilities so great they were nigh impossible to kill, such as the hit squads that delivered the type of justice Alicia suffered, but such genetic enhancements were illegal for the general public. The best someone like Julie could hope for was genetic birth control and an extra quart or two of blood.

She groaned loudly as Jack pushed through her hymen, and she bled on him, surprised at the amount of pain she felt. After what couldn't have been much more than a few agonizing thrusts, each eliciting a soft, pained cry from her, it was over much too soon, Jack grunting as he climaxed, and Julie feeling sadly disappointed. Jack rolled over and sighed, an expression of euphoria on his face, and Julie lay on her side and studied him. She supposed it would be unkind to let on how unsatisfied she was, so she smiled and played with his hair.

"Holy shit, that was incredible," he told her.

"Thanks," Julie cooed.

"You didn't like it?"

"It was nice. I think it's just harder for girls to enjoy our first time, you know?" She hugged him, savoring the feel of his naked flesh against hers, and they lay in relative silence for a short time.

"Why do you think they don't just kill all the poor people?" Jack asked. "You know, instead of these culling laws. It's the poor people that are taking up too much space."

"The rich need the poor," Julie answered somberly. "Without them, they couldn't distract the middle class from the imbalance of wealth. The poor keep the middle class content."

"That's some bleak shit."

"It's life. It works, I guess, and it's better than no life at all. You're not thinking of starting a revolution, are you?" Julie winked and giggled.

"No. Fuck no. But I do think we better clean up a little," Jack said, motioning to the blood and semen sticking to their thighs and the sheets, and Julie agreed. Jack brought a couple of wet wash rags and a clean set of sheets, and they wiped themselves off and made the bed, both of them still in their birthday suits.

With another passionate kiss and a grope of Julie's firm, round ass, they parted, Julie slipping on her shorts and nighty and hopping out the window, and Jack returning to his freshly made bed.

Back in her own room Julie still struggled to sleep, so she held her phone in one hand, pulled up the photos of Alicia, stared into those dead, glassy eyes, and slipped her other hand between her legs. Very soon she had an orgasm of her own, and soon after that she dozed off.

In the coming weeks and months Julie made frequent late night callings through her neighbor's window, and the sex got better. The key to improvement was communication, and Jack and Julie were great at that. Jack told Julie what he liked, Julie told Jack what she liked, and they asked questions and answered honestly.

For example, after a frank discussion one night, Jack agreed to let Julie project an image of Alicia's corpse on the TV, and the sex was fantastic. Julie also discovered that she enjoyed being choked, and she had Jack rough her up a little sometimes, with slapping and spanking and twisting of her nipples, and she loved it when he pulled her hair. She needn't worry about him ever taking things too far; he was always kind and respectful of her, and they had a safe word - coffee.

Well over a year passed before Julie's next encounter with the culling laws. It was a Saturday, and Jack's sixteenth birthday. She had bought him the latest VR game that he'd been ranting and raving about for the previous six months. It had finally released only two weeks earlier, and she had dropped plenty of hints she was going to buy it for him so he wouldn't go out and buy it himself. It was a crime saga, and the protagonist was a detective - perfect fodder for civic-minded Jack.

Julie wore a green dress and a green ribbon in her hair, looking extra cute, and went next door at nine in the morning. Jack’s dad greeted her and let her in with a welcoming smile. The foyer branched off into a hallway leading to the bedrooms, a living room, and a kitchen, and Jack was in the latter, sitting on a stool at an island. "Julie," he exclaimed when he saw her, dropping his fork on a plate of unfinished eggs and sausage and rushing over to give her a hug. "What's this?" he asked, taking her gift and ripping at the wrapping paper.

"Happy birthday, motherfucker," Julie said coolly. Jack's reaction when he finished unwrapping his gift was as she expected - thrilled but not at all surprised.

"Thanks, Julie, you know I'm gonna love it."

"Yeah, don't mention it."

"So... I got some big news," Jack told her.

"I know, you're sixteen."

"No, dork, I mean this," Jack opened his wallet and pulled out a chip that produced a hologram declaring Jack a registered and official culler.

"Dude, no way. Shut the fuck up." Julie's jaw dropped. It was fantastic news. Her father had refused to apply for a culling card, saying it went against his principles, and her mother was so meek she couldn't hurt a mouse, so Julie had been very concerned about her life expectancy, especially since she would turn sixteen two months later. This was the answer.

"Yup, it's legit."

"That's incredible. How'd you do it?"

"I started the application process almost six months ago. I had to take a firearms test, an IQ test, a personality test, I had to see a few analysts and psychologists, but they said I passed them all. I'm a certified killer."

Julie laughed at that, “That doesn’t exactly inspire faith in our government,” but then she quickly sobered up and led Jack to his bedroom. "You know this means we'll have to be more careful. No more public displays of affection. I read that the girlfriend of a culler has a mortality rate of like almost fifty percent. If you kill someone and they want to get back at you, the only way they can do it is through me, since we're not family."

"Yeah, well, you turn sixteen in two months, and you remember our pact?"

"Yes!" Julie said, a little more excitedly than she had intended. "Oh God, I was hoping you hadn't forgot that. Yes, I remember, and yes, I'll marry you."

"Easy," Jack said laughing, "I haven't even proposed yet."

"Propose then, asshole," Julie cried.

"Alright, alright fine, let's get married."

"Can we do it on my sixteenth birthday?" By law they weren't allowed to get married until they were both sixteen, but Julie didn't want to wait one day longer than she had to. She wanted that security.

"Sure, you got it."

"But we can't tell anyone. It has to be a secret. I don't want to be killed walking down the aisle or some shit, you know?"

"You're kind of bossy, you know that? We're not even married yet and you're bossing me around." Jack smiled.

"Fuck you," Julie hit him in the shoulder and laughed.

"Just tell me one thing, Julie," and she could tell by the look on his face he was serious now. "Do you love me?"

There was only the slightest hesitation, as Julie wondered if she did love him. They were best friends, they got along famously, she enjoyed no one else's company more than his, he was great in the sack, but did she love him? In the end she decided the distinction was unimportant. She cared very deeply for him, she liked him about as much as anyone could like another person, and if the marriage grew stale there was always the option of divorce - it was an expensive and arduous process to prevent sham marriages, but it was an option, and she would remain safe, as even ex-wives and ex-husbands were protected under the culling laws. "I do," she answered.

Jack's expression brightened, and his reply was warm and kindly, "I love you too."

They spent the day goofing off and taking turns on Jack's new VR game, which he was thoroughly pleased with, and in the evening Julie let Jack tittie fuck her and cum on her face. Her breasts were high and perky, and not the gently sloping melons that were more conducive to such activities, but Jack still seemed to enjoy it. Afterwards, as they lay in bed, Julie asked him, "Have you started on your list?"

"What list?"

"Your culling list, silly. You have to kill five people this year, surely you've thought about it if you applied six months ago."

"I mean I've thought about it, but I don't have a list."

"Don't you think you need one? I mean you're not gonna just randomly kill five people. Who's gonna be your first?"

"Any suggestions?" Jack looked to be at a loss.

"Holy shit, Jack, you're the culler, not me." But she did have a suggestion. She had been thinking about it all day, she just wasn't sure if she wanted to say it out loud. If she told Jack who to kill, and Jack killed that person, wouldn't that make Julie just as culpable? Could she handle that on her conscience? She wasn’t a killer, which was why she hadn’t applied for a culling card of her own.

She finally decided that five people had to die, whether she said something or not, so she might as well have her input. "Okay, how about Sarah?" A chill went down her spine as she said it, but she reminded herself that if she said nothing her inaction would just as surely condemn someone else, so did it really matter?


"Yeah, Sarah Rivers. She likes you, Jack. She's borderline obsessed. She doesn't like me though. Might even say she hates me."

"Sarah Rivers," Jack said thoughtfully. "You think she might try to hurt you?"

Julie thought Sarah was a sweet girl, truthfully, and Julie had told a small lie. Sarah wasn't obsessed with Jack, she was in love with him. Sarah might even be able to make Jack happier than Julie could, and if Jack realized that and hooked up with her, well then Julie wouldn't only lose out on being the wife of a culler, Sarah might then be having the same conversation with Jack about Julie that Julie was having about Sarah right now.

"I mean she's sixteen. If she gets a culling card, I think she'll try to kill me. Or get someone else to do it. Even if we get married on my birthday, there's still a window of opportunity there." And there it was, Julie's greatest fear put to voice. "I don't wanna die, Jack, and you gotta start somewhere, right?"

"Maybe. Let me think about it."

"Sure, it's up to you of course, but if you don't have someone else in mind already."

As it turned out, Jack didn't need to think about it too long. The following Monday as the two teens walked to school, he showed Julie his .44 magnum revolver and said, "Third period. Today."

“So you decided?”

“Yeah, fuck it. Sarah’s as good a mark as anyone. It’s like you said, I have to start somewhere. I just need to pop my cherry and stick my dick in there.”

“You’re gonna stick your dick in her?” Julie gave Jack the side eye and scrunched up her nose.

“No, it’s a figure of speech,” Jack said awkwardly.

Julie giggled then. “I know fuckstick, but it’s kinda morbid, doncha think? Making an analogy between fucking a girl and killing her.”

“You’re one to talk, putting up that image of Alicia when we fuck.”

Julie looked around nervously, then shushed Jack. “Dude, keep that shit on the DL.”

“Relax, nobody heard me.”

“I hope not,” Julie was less concerned with people knowing about her fascination with the dead than she was with people knowing she and Jack were fucking. Sarah was a cute and popular girl, and Jack would surely make enemies by killing her, which would put a target on Julie’s back. Especially if word got out she and Jack were romantically involved. “So, you’re gonna do it during class?”

Jack nodded.

“Are you nervous?” Julie asked.

“Yeah. It’s weird, there’s no risk, you know, but I’m going to kill someone. It’s...”

“Fucking intense,” Julie finished for him.


“Well, let me know before you do it. I wanna prepare myself.”

It felt like an eternity before third period arrived, and a weird knot of excitement was building in Julie’s stomach. Someone was going to die, and she was going to watch. When it happened to Alicia it was nauseating, but Julie hadn’t been expecting it then, so she hoped this time would be different, and the anticipation was killing her.

She spotted Sarah in the hallways before class, laughing with her friends and completely carefree, and felt a pang of guilt. The girl really didn’t deserve to die, but then again none of them did. It was just something that had to happen.

As they began third period history and took their seats, Julie’s eyes were glued to Sarah. She and Jack sat near the back of the classroom, so Sarah was ahead and to their left, and for fifteen minutes Mr. Hammond lectured and Julie heard none of it. She kept watching Sarah, a pretty young girl in the prime of her life who was completely oblivious to her coming doom. She tried to imagine what Sarah was thinking about, and how those thoughts would change when the first bullet struck her.

When she finally tore her eyes away long enough to look at Jack, she saw the torment the poor guy was going through. She couldn't read him the way he could read her, but his pain couldn't be more obvious, and she didn't envy him. A culling card sounded like a great idea on the surface, but now that he had one, he had to use it. There was no turning back.

She looked into his sea green eyes, and was taken aback by how handsome he was becoming. In her mind he was often still little Jacky, chasing her through the backyard with a water hose and a bucket of balloons, but he was almost a man, and he was about to make the most difficult decision of his life.

All Julie could do was offer her friend some small token of comfort, so she reached across the aisle and let him take her hand, and she gave him a look that said it would be okay, that she would support him no matter what, but he was going to have to kill someone sooner or later and it wasn't going to get any easier than it was now. The fact that she could convey all this without uttering a word was a testament to their lifelong friendship, and the message was received. Jack smiled sadly, and she knew he was going to do it.

He released her hand, removed the .44 from his backpack and his culling card from his wallet, and he stood up. "This is a culling!" he announced, holding up the hologram produced by his card, and he began walking deliberately towards Sarah. There were shrieks and shouts, but Julie tuned them out. She had her phone out and she was recording, her attention focused entirely on Sarah.

Sarah had turned around, and when she saw Jack approaching she got out of her chair and backed away, her hands held out in a pathetic attempt at defense. "Jack?"

"I'm sorry, Sarah," Jack told her, raising the gun.

"Jack, wait!"

Jack didn't wait. He fired his pistol, and the first shot made contact with Sarah just beneath her sternum. The magnum was deafening in the enclosed classroom, and nobody heard Sarah grunt as the bullet penetrated her. She had been seated in the row farthest to the left, and Julie saw her blood and guts spatter against the wall behind her. Although the shot was dead center, it apparently did not sever the girl's spine, because she remained on her feet.

"Jack," Sarah said, blood spattering from her lips, just before Jack shot her again. This time she was struck in the center of her right breast - a large and rounded melon that was much better suited to tittie fucking than Julie's perky little tits. Jack quickly shot her again, leaving little time for a reaction. The third shot struck the inside curve of her right breast, near her breastbone, and Julie felt certain that took out the girl's heart. It was fitting, she supposed, that Jack broke Sarah's heart both literally and figuratively.

It was the last shot Jack fired, and they all watched as Sarah slid down the wall until her butt touched the floor. The class was silent; the only sounds were the ringing in their ears from the gunshots and Sarah quietly gurgling on her blood. Sarah held herself upright with her arms pressed against the wall, but Julie could tell she wouldn't be long for this world. Unlike Alicia, whose killers had seemingly intentionally left her heart in tact, Sarah's ticker was wrecked, but before her eyes lost focus she looked up at Jack and told him, "I love you."

When Sarah was still and her blue-gray eyes vacant, Julie stopped recording and leaned over to puke.

That night the sex was the best it had ever been. Julie had considered playing the video while they fucked, but discretion won out and she decided not to. Both she and Jack were on edge, and Jack seemed in need of a little escapism. She sucked his dick and let him tittie fuck her, and afterwards she rode him as he choked her and beat her, and in her mind's eye she kept seeing Sarah's sweet young face and dying gray eyes, and she heard her final words over and over. I love you

She let Jack choke her longer and harder than usual, until she began to see spots, and when at last she came her orgasm exploded with a rage that was almost unnerving. She thrashed and screamed loud enough that Jack's parents were sure to hear, but she didn't care. Her man had killed for her, and although the death of Sarah ended up being even more traumatizing than Alicia's, it was also strangely romantic.

Afterwards, as they lay in bed exhausted, Jack asked, "Julie, do you think she really loved me?"

Julie looked at him and saw the heaviness weighing on his heart, and in an effort to put him at ease she repeated her earlier lie, "She was obsessed with you. It's different."

Julie's third and final encounter with the culling laws came on her sixteenth birthday. It was a day she had long dreaded, but now it came with a certain sense of promise. It was her wedding day after all, and once married she'd no longer have anything to fear. Her family members had all replied to her emails, assuring her they would never endanger her life by interfering in a culling, and with the introduction of the culling laws there were no longer any other crimes that called for the elimination of an entire bloodline.

Her spirits were high, and life was as good as it had ever been. She had parents who loved her, a kind and caring best friend who doubled as an adept sexual partner and soon to be husband, she was in excellent physical and mental health, she was young and witty and beautiful, and aside from the off chance that she'd be culled in the next eleven hours, there was no reason to think any of that would change.

She picked out blue skirt that highlighted her eyes and a plain white tee that teased the flesh around her navel, and slipped on a pair of clean white tennis shoes. It was an ordinary outfit, to disguise the fact that she had a wedding to attend. There wouldn't be a big ceremony or bridesmaids or groomsmen or any other family or friends there. She and Jack were just going straight to the courthouse after school to finalize the paperwork. They could have a ceremony another time, if they felt the need.

She applied a layer of clear lip gloss to her perfect lips, but she wore no makeup because she really didn't need it. She met Jack on the sidewalk and they began their morning commute to school.

"Happy birthday, beautiful," Jack said sweetly.

Julie beamed at him. "Thanks! So what'd you get me?"

"You'll see later," he answered coyly. "You know, I'm not sure you thought this through. Having our wedding the same day as your birthday, you're going to be missing out on gifts."

"Bullshit, you still gotta buy me a birthday gift and an anniversary gift, there's not gonna be any two-for-ones going on, motherfucker."

"You think so, huh? We'll see, bitch."

Julie laughed and slung her arm around Jack. "I love you," she told him, and for the first time, she thought she really meant it.

"I love you too."

During lunch they snuck off to the janitor's closet, stripped off their clothes and had quick and wild sex. She bounced topless on his dick, her modest breasts jiggling beautifully, and Jack smacked her in the ass, punched her in the stomach, and wrapped a cord around her neck and pulled. For the briefest of moments she realized he could legally kill her and it added that extra element of danger, but then she remembered cullings must be carried out in public.

She came before he did, and when she was done she got on her knees and sucked him off. She let him spatter her face with his semen, since it was what he liked to do, and she even slurped a bit of it off his dick, despite the fact she thought it tasted disgusting. The whole thing took less than ten minutes, and they both had time to eat their lunch before heading to fifth period trigonometry, a class they shared.

As Miss Moore began her lecture, Julie sat giddily, unable to stop smiling at Jack. Only three periods remained before school was out, and then they would be married, which meant she was less than four hours from securing her future.

Twenty minutes into class when Miss Moore called on her to solve for sine, she floated up to the board, ready to conquer any challenge thrown at her. She had almost completed the equation when she heard the boom from behind her, and her blood sprayed the dry erase board, covering part of her work.

Confused, she began wiping her blood away so she could finish the problem when another boom sounded, and more of her blood splashed onto the math problem. Someone doesn't want me to finish this equation, she thought, and she looked down at the pair of exit wounds in her belly. She sighed and turned around to face the class, then simply remarked "Oh."

Jack had his magnum out, and a tendril of smoke billowed from the barrel. In his other hand he held up his culling card. As Julie looked at him he shot her again, and she felt a terrible pressure in her abdomen as a third bullet tore through her guts.

"Miss Moore, I think I need to be excused to Nurse Carr's office." Julie winced. "My tummy hurts."

Miss Moore sat speechless, almost as stunned at this turn of events as Julie, and Julie started towards the door at the back of the class. After only a couple of shuffling steps Jack shot her a fourth time, again targeting her midsection. Julie stumbled as bits of flesh and guts flew out her back, and she caught a desk as she fell. She and the desk toppled, and the boy who had occupied it, she thought his name was Doug, stood up a split second earlier and stepped back.

“Sorry,” Julie told him with a nervous laugh, and she picked herself up and continued towards the back of the class. Her path took her straight to Jack’s desk, and she stopped to tell him, "Coffee," then she giggled at him and mussed his hair. Jack responded by pressing the barrel of his gun against the bare flesh of her belly and squeezing the trigger. Julie grunted softly and sighed, “Oh, Jack,” before moving on.

It was beginning to sink in, everything crashing down around her, by the time she reached the door. She would not be getting married, she would not live beyond her sixteenth birthday, she wouldn’t even see the end of the school day. There was no escaping it, nowhere to go, but Julie at least wanted to feel the sun on her face one more time. As she reached for the door handle Jack shot her again.

The exit wound opened in her upper abdomen this time, and Julie tasted blood in the back of her throat. She glanced over her shoulder and scowled, rolled her eyes, and fumbled the door open. When she stepped into the hallway she saw that the gunshots had attracted a small crowd, and a murmur went through them.

“Julie!” a boy, she thought he was a freshman, started towards her.

Julie was clutching her belly with both hands, but she held up a bloody palm to halt the kid. “It’s okay,” she told him. Nothing about this was okay, but she didn't want anybody else losing their lives on her account. “I’m being culled. I just need to go get some air before I die.” Blood was beginning to spill over her lower lip and dribble down her chin now.

“Oh,” the boy answered. “That sucks.”

“Yeah, it does,” Julie agreed, thinking that was a massive understatement.

“Aren’t you scared?”

“Yeah, I’m scared.” Another massive understatement.

“I don’t want you to die.”

“Me neither.”

“You’re the hottest chick I’ve ever seen.”

“Thanks,” and with that Julie concluded this bizarre conversation and continued on her way. Luckily Miss Moore’s classroom was just outside the administration's office, which was only twenty feet from the main entrance. Julie crossed that threshold without much difficulty and stepped outside.

It was nice to feel the warmth of the sun on her skin, and she wondered how many times she had taken that feeling for granted. As she started down the main steps she began to feel light-headed, and she sat down. So this is where I die.

As Jack watched Julie practically skip to the board to work on a math problem, he knew this was it. He had to do it now. He hated it, but this was the responsibility he had taken on. Sarah hadn’t deserved to be culled, but Julie most certainly did.

He watched her firm round buttocks move beneath her skirt, and it was almost painful. She was beyond any doubt the most beautiful girl he’d ever know, and she was fucking him. She might go on fucking him for another ten years, or maybe twenty, but she’d eventually tire of it and move on to find some other man to use and manipulate, and then she’d ruin that man's life too, and on and on it would go.

It wasn’t even her fault really, she was easy to love, but she couldn’t love anybody other than herself. Jack loved her, but he couldn’t marry her, and if he was being honest as a culler, he knew he had to kill her. Julie had been the one to suggest he make a list, and soon after that she had ended up not only on that list, but at the top of it.

With a heavy heart he took out his culling card and his .44 magnum, and he took aim. Julie was working diligently, oblivious to the danger behind her, and Jack targeted center mass as they taught him in firearms training. The sites hovered over Julie’s lower back, where her loose white tee was lifted just enough to show off her creamy skin, with a tiny bit of baby fat bulging over the hem of her skirt. The magnum exploded and spit lead.

Julie squawked and inexplicably began to wipe her blood off the board, and Jack shot her again. When she turned around he saw the pair of exit wounds, one on each side of her navel, about three inches apart from each other. Her shirt hadn’t fully settled after she had raised her arms to write on the board, so a couple inches of her midriff were bare, and both wounds were plainly visible.

“Oh,” Julie remarked nonchalantly, but her stunning blue eyes and the expression on her mesmerizing face belied her unconcerned tone. Jack could see she was terrified. He promptly shot her a third time, and the bullet left a hole slightly up and towards Julie’s center in relation to the exit wound left of her navel. “Miss Moore, I think I need to be excused to Nurse Carr’s office. My tummy hurts.”

It was an adorably cute thing to say, and it might have been funny if the situation wasn’t so grim. Blood was streaming from her gut and she was clutching uselessly at herself, trying to stem the flow. Her blue skirt was turning maroon, and Jack saw trickles running down Julie’s bare shins and dripping onto her clean white shoes. She started walking and Jack let her take a couple steps before plugging her again.

The bullet tore into the right side of her belly, a little to the right of the exit wound on that side, and Julie lost her footing. She tried to avoid falling by grabbing onto Doug’s desk, but Doug stood up and backed away, letting both Julie and his desk go crashing to the floor. Julie laughed goofily and actually apologized, then she picked herself up and staggered over to Jack.

He kept his expression cold and distant, not wanting her to talk him out of what he had already begun, but she just said, "Coffee," and then giggled cutely and tussled his hair a little. He nestled the barrel of his pistol under the bottom of her shirt, which was still a couple inches above her cute little coin slot belly button, and angled it just enough so the shot wouldn’t hit her spine before pulling the trigger.

Julie grunted prettily, then sighed and simply said, “Oh, Jack.” He watched her with a certain admiration as she walked away - it was clear that she had not seen any of this coming, but she was maintaining her composure far better than could be reasonably expected - and again he found himself staring at her marvelous buttocks as her glutes did their work, every contour easily visible against the soft fabric of her now blood-soaked skirt.

She reached the door and nobody else had so much as gotten out of their seat, including Jack. He gave her one final parting shot, expending all the shells in his revolver, and Julie cast him a dirty look before leaving the classroom. Once she was gone, all eyes turned to Jack, and he just shrugged and said, "Well shit, she's one tough bitch." He chuckled, and there was some nervous laughter from the class. "Miss Moore, you can continue, I'm sure there's enough witnesses out there. I just need to follow her and make sure she dies."

Jack slipped on his backpack and headed for the door. When he reached the hallway, Julie was already pushing through the main entrance and stepping outside. There was a small crowd stagnating outside Miss Moore's classroom, and Jack asked, "Do any of you want to witness Julie's final moments?"

"Why are you wasting her?" a kid asked him. "She's so hot."

"I thought you two were friends," another girl said. Jack recognized her as Teri.

"You wouldn't understand," Jack muttered, "but I need at least a couple witnesses."

"I'll go," the first kid said, "It's the last chance time I'm ever gonna get to see her."

A couple more guys elbowed each other and one of them said, "Yeah, we'll go too."

And so the three boys followed Jack outside, where Julie sat bleeding to death. "Julie?" Jack said as he approached.

Julie looked up at him and smirked, "Culled on my sixteenth birthday. I wonder how often that happens."

"And by your best friend," Jack said as he sat down next to her.

"By my fiancé," Julie corrected him. "You know if you didn't want to marry me, all you had to do was say so."

"I did want to marry you, at least at one point," Jack admitted. "But you never loved me. It wouldn't have worked."

"Is that why you did this?"

"You're a taker, Julie. You used me to kill Sarah because you didn't want to lose me, but you didn't really want me. You just wanted my protection."

Julie smiled, punched him in the shoulder and rolled her gorgeous eyes. "You dummy. I do love you. Or at least I did, before you blew my guts all over Miss Moore's class."

Jack was taken aback. He could tell when Julie was lying, and she wasn't lying now. "The first time I asked if you loved me, you said yes, but I knew it was bullshit. I pretended it wasn’t, but I knew. I had hoped you would love me when I killed Sarah, but you didn't. When did that change?"

"I dunno, today maybe?" Jack remembered Julie telling him that she loved him that morning, and it had seemed somehow different, but he had chalked it up to wedding day giddiness. "You know, if you keep killing every girl that falls in love with you, you're gonna be pretty lonely. Just some free advice."

"That's part of it too. You lied about Sarah. She did love me, and she wasn't a threat to you."

"You got me there," Julie conceded. "It was a rotten thing to do." She chuckled sadly. "It's ironic, isn't it? I suggested you kill Sarah and marry me because I didn't want to be culled, but it's exactly those things that got me culled."

"Life's a trip sometimes."

"Yeah, I wish my trip lasted a little longer though." He looked into those charming blue eyes of hers, saw her blinking back tears and chewing her bloody lower lip, and a flood of memories fluttered through his mind. Julie chasing him around her backyard, playing tag. Julie jumping off the roof of their house and landing in a pile of pillows and blankets they had built on the ground. Julie spending hours at a time playing Blood Dragons with him, his favorite two-player video game. Julie's smile. Julie's laugh.

He gently brushed a lock of soft, chocolate-brown hair away from her face and caressed her cheek. "I'm going to miss you, Julie."

"You bet your ass you are," she told him. "So... I was wondering... why'd you shoot me in the belly?"

Jack shrugged. "Center mass."

"Center mass my ass. Sarah gets three bullets in the chest but I get gut shot six times?"

"I was closer when I fired on Sarah."

"Dude, I was standing next to you, saying coffee, and you put the fucking gun against my tummy and fired."

"Yeah, well, you already had four bullet holes in your gut by then, I figured I should be consistent."

Julie squawked with laughter, blood spewing from her soft lips. "Don't make me laugh, asshole. It hurts too much."

"Well, why do you think I shot you in the gut then?"

"I think I turned you into a sadist," she said with a sly smile. "All that time in the sack, you liked treating me rough."

"I don't know, I never really thought about it. Maybe." He suddenly realized he had a raging boner, so perhaps Julie was right. Had he been following his civic duty, or was he subconsciously just following his cock?

"Yeah, you like watching me suffer, you fucking dog. You remember when I said that if I had to die, I hoped it would be quick?"

"Oh shit, you did say that!" Jack had completely forgotten about that conversation.

"Yup. I said dying slow would be like the worst thing imaginable. And here you are, killing me slowly."

"Is it as bad as you thought?"

"It's worse. So much worse."

Jack began fumbling in his backpack for his box of shells. "You want me to finish it?"

"No!" Julie said, reaching out and grabbing his arm. "Fuck no, please."

"Why not?"

"What I never considered was - if you go to the doctor and the doctor says you have six months left to live, what do you do? Do you just kill yourself and be done with it?"

Jack thought about it. "I guess it might depend on how much pain I'm in."

"Yeah, well, not me, and I'm in a fuck ton of pain, let me tell you. For me, I would just try to enjoy every second I could, because the only thing worse than dying a slow and painful death... is nothing. And that's what death is. It's nothing."

“That’s an interesting point of view.”

Julie smiled and swiped some blood from her mouth, “So how long do you think I have?”

“I’m not sure.” Jack looked at the puddle of blood around Julie, the trail of blood leading back to the school, the stream of blood running down the steps in front of them, the blood on Julie’s clothes and dribbling down her chin. “Ten minutes maybe?”

Julie frowned. “Alicia almost lasted that long, didn’t she? Don’t sell me short, Jack, I’m planning to make it another thirty minutes. Shit, maybe an hour.”

“I think Alicia only lasted a few minutes, and she wasn’t shot with a .44 mag. This thing’s a fucking hand cannon.”

Julie spat blood and stuck out her lower lip in a pout. “Way to kill the mood. So if I’ve only got ten minutes left, what are we gonna do with that time? You got any cool games in that bag of yours?”

“Nothing fun, school issued stuff. Educational stuff,” he said.

“Figures. Well. I guess we could look at the sky. I never paid attention to how beautiful it is. So many beautiful things in the world, you know? We don’t even notice them until it’s too late.”

Jack thought it was a poignant observation, but looking at Julie he realized it was never more true than when it came to the girl herself. How many times had he looked at her and thought she was hot, or cute, or sexy, without fully recognizing her beauty? “Nothing’s more beautiful than you.”

Julie smiled at him, and he felt his heart breaking. “Oh, Jacky, why’d you have to kill me?”

Jack didn't have an answer for that. It had seemed to make sense not so long ago, but now it felt all wrong. Why had he killed his best friend, a girl he loved and who had actually loved him in return? This was so fucking bad. Instead of responding to that impossible question Jack simply stared at Julie, who was looking wistfully up at the sky, and he basked in her hypnotic beauty.

After a minute or two Julie winced, clutched tightly at her stomach, and an alarming amount of blood gushed from her mouth. She looked at Jack, two big tears rolling slowly down her cheeks, her lower lip quivering, and she told him, “I don’t think I’m gonna make it to that half hour mark.”

“I don’t think you will. No."

"I'm losing my fucking mind here. Talk to me, tell me a story or something. Tell me a fucking joke."

“You said not to make you laugh.”

“You asshole, I also said I didn’t wanna be shot to death, but that didn’t stop you, did it?” Jack frowned. “Come on, Jack, don’t be a wiener, I don’t wanna laugh, I just wanna smile. Make me forget I’m dying for just a second, yeah?”

“I’m sorry, Julie, I can’t think of any good jokes.”

“Tell me a shitty joke then.”

Jack thought for a moment, then said, “Okay, fine, in memoriam of your sexy belly, how about this: where do you go to learn to belly dance?”

“I dunno, where?” Julie asked.

“The navel academy.” Julie actually did smile at that, and Jack continued, with a bit more confidence now. “What did the policewoman say to her belly button?”

“I hope you don’t get pierced today?” Julie guessed, glancing at her own bullet-riddled belly for extra effect.

“Good guess, but nope. You’re under a vest.”

Julie snorted. "Fuck, that's bad."

"You think that's bad, your momma's so fat, she has an echo in her belly button."

Julie crowed with laughter, albeit briefly, before covering her mouth to stop an onslaught of blood. After a moue of pain her smile returned, "Okay, enough jokes. I think I just ruptured something. Tell me a story." Blood was coursing steadily from her lips now, and her chin was completely coated.

"Julie, I'm so sorry. I can't believe I did this to you."

"Me too, Jack, but please. I'm trying really hard not to think about dying, so... tell me a fucking story."

"Well, when I was four years old, I was outside in my front yard playing with my Global Commando action figures when this chubby little girl saw me from across the street and came over to ask me what I was doing. I told her I was fighting off these rebel terrorists, and she sat down next to me and joined in."

"Chubby? You fucking asshole, I wasn't chubby. I was big boned."

"Julie, come on, you were a fucking chunkster."

"I was maybe a little tubby."


"Jack, don't be an asshole. I'm dying."

Jack smiled, "I'm kidding, I'm kidding, you know I think you're the most beautiful girl ever."

"But not back then. Back then you thought I was tubby. But I guess you didn't care, because we did spend that entire afternoon playing together."

“Yeah, we took out those terrorist bastards, and then you chased me around pretending to shoot me.”

Julie smiled sadly. “Well the tables have turned now. If I’d known how that relationship would turn out..." Julie coughed and gurgled, then whimpered meekly before continuing, "I’d have stayed the fuck on my side of the street.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Jack told her, thinking it was romantic, and immediately realizing it was insensitive. He wasn’t the one dying.

“Fuck you,” Julie said wheezily. “You’re such a dick.” Her voice was cracking.

“I’m sorry, Julie, I didn’t mean...”

“Fuck off with that shit.” Blood was spurting from her lips like a fountain. “I’m fucking dying, Jack. I’m fucking dying. You being sorry doesn't help. Oh fuck, I’m so fucking scared.”

“You know, it was only about a hundred years ago when our ancestors believed there was a God, and that after you died you got to live forever in paradise. Some people still believe it.”

“Oh, I wish I could believe that shit. I really do.”

“Maybe it’s true.”

Julie gave Jack a look that said, Come on, Jack, you’ve known me my whole life, you know I’m not falling for that.

"I guess you're right," Jack conceded. "We know it's not."

"Jack," Julie said with a sense of desperation, her blue eyes suddenly wide. "Jack... Jack, I don't... this is it!" Those were her final words, and with that she laid back on the stairs, her perfect mouth yawning in terror, and he watched the life go out of her spectacularly beautiful eyes.

"Can we see her tits?" one of the boys who was witnessing asked. When Jack looked at him in anger he appealed, "What, she's not going to care."

"She was my fiancé," Jack replied, stricken with grief.

"Why'd you kill her then?"

"I don't know."


Waaaaaaa! My hero! *_*


Great new story. Thanks!


Jesus Christ


Captivating stuff, BL. The new story, that is. I did not stop to do anything until I had finished reading it all.

Really good stuff. As always, I do enjoy Julie's tenacity and personality throughout the stories.


Nice, I'm glad at least a few people liked it. I flip flopped a few times on the ending. Originally I planned for another boy who Julie had rejected or who just obsessed over her to kill her, I briefly considered the idea of a jealous female culler, and then I decided Jack should be the one to do it. My worry was that it would be too similar to Julie's Anatomy Lesson, and I'm trying not to be too repetitive, but I just really like the idea of Julie's best friend and lover betraying and killing her.


It def worked out best this time


Bloodlust, I've got an idea. In your stories Julie is usually an atheist. What if you make her a firm believer an kill in such way that dying she thinks of how god has failed her, allowed her to be killed, did nothing to stop or even to punish the killers? Make her despair over her broken faith and wasted time and the prospect of not going to heaven.


I appreciate the input, but Julie doesn't normally start out as an out and out atheist except when her story is set in a dystopian future. She usually starts out as a Christian, or at least someone who wants to believe, or believes she believes, but then she has a crisis of faith along the way and by the time she dies she's basically an atheist. I've thought of a more extreme version of that crisis of faith scenario, which might be similar to what you're suggesting, but in the end she still dies an atheist.

I like to explore her faith, or lack thereof, because it's important to me that the victim doesn't believe in an afterlife. If death isn't final, it sucks all the drama out of it and ruins the fantasy, and to be honest I'm not entirely sure how to write someone that really, truly believes in God, but then blames God for her own death and doesn't believe she's going to heaven. I am an atheist and I try to be respectful to those who are religious, but it seems to me that if someone truly believes Heaven is the ultimate paradise, death is the best thing that could happen to them.

That said, it might be possible to work that angle into the story I'm writing now, but we'll see how it goes.


I have had an idea for a story for a while now, but im just awful ad getting motivated to write. And when I do, im never satisfied with it. Putting ideas into words just seem to not really work with me.
So if you're looking for input and inspiration for a future story im happy for you to take from my idea. It would be interesting to see your take on it.

But the basic premise is based off these Mexican/Brazilian cartel executions. My main character (in this case however, Julie) and some of her friends would get caught up into a bit of trouble while on a girls holiday or a business trip. Something like getting asked to smuggle some drugs in for a high price in which they stupidly agree, only for them to loose it or have it taken off them maybe?

Then after a long and pretty brutal game of cat and mouse (one of the friends here would die. A short video then being sent to Julie and the remaining friend of her torture/death), the cartel would catch them finally and then execute them slowly brutally, so they can use the footage as a "message" for anyone that tries to fuck with them. No sudden headshots or instant beheadings, but instead stuff limb removing, eye gouging, slow disembowling, stabbing and slashing, debreasting ect. All to really get that shock factor for the recording before leaving them to finally die.

I think with Julie's seemingly unbreakable mentality, it would make for quite the plot. Her going through and taking everything they throw at her. Outlasting her other friend, and surprising the cartel members with her resilience, while they try to figure out more brutal ways to break her body, but more importantly her mind.

I tend to look at those low quality executions that get posted online every so often, and it got me thinking about this. As much as im not really into real gore, I do use it to get whatever creative juices I have flowing.

I hope you like it. Its all yours to play with if so.


I like it! It’s an intriguing idea that I can hopefully work on soon. Right now I’m writing something that should be quite a bit shorter than the culling story, and I want to get through it before starting anything new. I also want to fill Julie with arrow shafts, and I’ve got a couple stories where I started down that road, but they’ve sort of sputtered and stalled.


Yes on the Arrow shafts, I always get excited when I see an update here. Your probably one if my favorite authors :3 personally I'd live to see some fucking and stabbing like internet dating gone wrong, fuck her while you gut her I love that stuff.


I can't wait to see. Hopefully one of those shafts buries itself in Julie's snatch~ Just to cause max pain


Thank you, TastyMonk, and this story I've been working on sounds like it will be right up your alley.


Hope to hear more from your fiascos with Julie, BL. Hopefully the recent downtime and moderation neglect of Gurochan hasn't stopped you from posting your excellent writing online.


Hey, thanks for bringing the thread back from the dead, Malesor! I didn't have a link saved and I thought I might have to post everything all over again. If the site stays up, I'll probably keep posting stuff as I write it. If it goes down for good, I might end up posting on DS again.

So this next story I don't think is one of my better ones, but it ticks several boxes that people here had asked for. Hanneko wanted to see Julie die a firm believer, lamenting over her wasted faith, and this story does that. TastyMonk wanted to see some gutting while fucking, and this story does that too. Before the massive spam attack a girl had asked for stories involving a lesbian serial killer/serial rapist, and this has that as well.


Julie Gets Drugged

When Carla saw her, she knew immediately she was the one. Everything about her was perfect. Her full figure with curves in all the right places, her pubescent skin glowing with a supernatural vibrancy, her sparkling smile, her thriving vivacity, her body language expressing an air of both innocence and sexuality, the warring factions somehow brought to peace within her exquisite features, her soft and rich brown hair caressing her bare shoulders, her strong jaw and full cheeks, and the real kicker, what really took your breath away, her piercing blue eyes.

The more Carla watched the girl, the more enchanted she became. When she pointed the vixen out to Luis, he was equally captivated. How could he not be? He had eyes, after all. They were completely in agreement that she would be the one, so Carla stalked her. She watched the girl laughing and joking with her friends as they sipped their drinks, watched her deftly send would be suitors away with a giggle and a few kind words, watched her flirt and dance, her sleek black dress hugging tightly to her supple teenage body, and when the girl was alone at her table, her two friends on the dance floor, Carla made her move.

She strolled casually by, glanced in the girl's direction as if by chance, and then, as if this was all on a whim, suddenly said, "Oh, hey, I'm Rose," and extended her hand.

The girl took it and gripped it with her own soft and tiny fingers, and replied, "I'm Julie," flashing that beaming smile.

"So that guy you were dancing with, is he with you?"

"Oh no, we just met. He just asked me to dance."

"You planning on going home with him?"

Julie giggled. "No, I'm with my friends." She pointed to the dance floor.

"Ah, you're from the U.S., aren't you?" Carla had known Julie was a high school kid who crossed the border to take advantage of Mexico's legal drinking age as soon as she saw her, but she played coy.

Julie nodded.

"Alright, well I just didn't want to step on anyone's toes, you know? I was thinking of asking your dance partner if he'd be interested in a one night stand."

Julie made a flippant gesture to indicate she was fine with it. "Be my guest. You want me to introduce you?"

"Oh would you? You're a doll!"

"Of course, no problem. Come on." Julie stood up and led Carla across the club, ducking and weaving through the crowd with a simple, almost clumsy grace, and Carla wondered if the roofies were already beginning to kick in. "David," Julie called as they arrived at another table.

Carla noted the four local boys and another high school girl from the States seated there, and she recognized the boy with whom Julie had danced among them. The boy stood up, truly a strapping lad, with broad shoulders and an aw-shucks smile, and she could see he was trying to be cool as he reciprocated Julie’s greeting. “Hey, Julie!”

“I want you to meet my friend, Rose.”

David smiled good-naturedly at Carla and embraced her warmly. “Hey, Rose, nice to meet you.”

He was cute and all, but really not Carla’s type, so she had to feign interest. “Hey, David, so how do you know Julie?”

“Oh, we just met tonight, actually. Why don’t you join us?” David looked at both Carla and Julie as he extended his invitation, but his eyes lingered a bit longer on Julie. Carla could hardly blame him. Julie was even more exquisite up close, which in Carla’s experience was a rare treat. The old adage about sitting too close to the stage almost always rang true, but Julie seemed to defy even the laws of nature with her beauty.

Carla eagerly accepted, taking a seat on David’s side of the table and ogling him with false hunger in her hazel eyes.

Julie flashed that adorable smile, her innocence shining through, and politely declined. “I’ve gotta get back to our table and keep an eye on my friends’ drinks, but we’ll catch up later.” Carla smirked at the irony of keeping an eye on drinks that were already drugged.

“So, you’re a friend of Julie’s?” David said, returning to his seat.

“Yep, I told her I wanted to talk to you so I could ask if you wanted to fuck me, but I’ve seen the way you look at her. I know when I’m beat.”

“You did? You have?”

“Shh, relax. I mean it’s kind of obvious, but it’s okay. She’s an amazing girl.”

“She is something, isn’t she?”

“She really is.”

“But wait, if she introduced you to me so you could, you know, try to fuck me, doesn’t that mean she’s not interested?”

“She’s into you, she just wants you to take charge. Be assertive. She wants a guy who knows what he wants and is willing to fight for it.”

“You sure? What about all that shit about respecting boundaries?”

“Yeah, I mean that’s important with some chicks, but not Julie. She’s a traditional gal. Just go over there and tell her I tried to steal you away, but you’re only into her. Tell her she’s the only thing you care about, and you’re going to make her yours. You’re going to take her home with you, no matter what it takes.”

“You really think that’ll work?”

“Trust me, I know Julie. I know it will work. Just don't tell her I put you up to it. It'll ruin the magic.”

Once David had set off on his fool's errand, Carla went to work on his buddies. One of them seemed preoccupied with chatting up the high school girl at the table, but the other two were restless. They nursed their drinks, eyes skirting the club for potential mates. Their attention turned to her as she scooted towards them.

"You're looking for some company?" the one closest to her said. He was tragically short and his nose was broad and flat, and she guessed he sought to make up for it by being the brashest of the group. That would work in her favor.

"Sorry, champ, you're not my type, but I got some good news." She pointed to Julie's two friends, who were dancing with each other at the moment. "Those two are looking to get laid tonight, and they’re not as selective as I am. They said they’ll go home with whoever buys them the most drinks and is still hanging around at the end of the night."

“No bullshit?” the short one asked.

Carla shook her head.

“Come on, Jerry, let’s give it a shot.” He led Jerry off to the bar, and Carla leaned back and smiled. It was too easy. She’d give things a few minutes to develop, and then go rescue Julie from David.

Jerry and the short kid were apparently not completely incompetent, because very soon they were dancing with Julie's friends and sharing drinks. Julie, meanwhile, appeared to be every bit as uncomfortable as Carla anticipated, and David showed no sign of relenting. It was time to take action.

She meandered back over to Julie's table, where David was laying it on thick. "I don't think you realize how beautiful you are, baby. I'm never gonna be able to forget you. You're in my head forever now. You have to give me a chance here. I swear you won't regret it."

"Rose," Julie said, seeing Carla approach. The poor girl looked overcome with relief. "David seems to be... really taken by me."

"Can't say I blame him," Carla admitted.

"Like he's crushing hard," Julie continued, and Carla could detect a slight slurring in her speech. "I was just telling him it won't work, and he should just shack up with you. Maybe you can help me out?"

Carla shrugged. "I mean, I can't say I didn't tell him the same thing, but the kid knows what he wants. What can I do?"

"Tell her, Rose. Tell her I need her, and she just needs to roll with it."

"Honey, I think it's time to read the room," Carla said in her most soothing voice.

"But you said..." David protested.

"I know what I said, but take a break. Go get us some drinks."

"Rum and coke," Julie said, knocking back what was left in her cup.

"Gin and tonic for me," Carla said, and David, although exasperated, obeyed.

"I think I'm getting fucked up," Julie admitted, once David was out of earshot, "and that dude's starting to creep me out."

"I see what you mean. I'm a little glad he rejected me now."

"Right? You're lucky. Motherfucker can't take a hint. Do me a favor. Looks like my friends like..." The slurred speech was becoming more pronounced. "My friends are dancing, or I'd ask them, but make sure this asshole doesn't take advantage of me." Carla found herself swimming in the girl's eyes - she was just incredible. It didn't seem real.

"You got it. Sisters before misters."

Julie giggled at that, and held out her pinky. "Pinky swear?"

"Pinky swear," Carla agreed, and she interlocked her own pinky with the girl's tiny finger. It wasn't difficult after that to convince Julie that David had drugged her, and Julie's friends were soon too out of it to notice or care when Carla helped Julie out the front door of the club and into a black 2002 Ford Taurus.

When Julie clawed her way back to consciousness, the first thing she noticed was the shackles around her wrists and ankles keeping her hogtied. She tested their fortitude and found she had at least enough wiggle room to move her hands to her hips and rise up on her knees. That's when she realized she was naked.

She saw she was on a bed in a windowless room, and judging by the lack of furniture and the staircase on the far end, she guessed it was a basement. There were two people looking at her, a man and a woman, both of whom were oddly familiar.

"Good morning, sunshine," the woman told her, and she knew that voice. Everything was groggy, but...

"Rose?" Julie asked. Rose was chunkier than this woman, and had long black hair, and green eyes, but somehow...

"No dear, Carla. Rose is simply the identity I adopted last night. I'm impressed you could recognize me without the body suit, wig and contacts."

"And he's the bartender." Julie nodded to the man.

"Luis," Carla added. "He's the one that slipped you and your friends the mickey. That poor boy David was just our fall guy, I'm afraid."

"What did you give me? I still feel weird." The truth was, despite being tied up and naked in some stranger's basement in a foreign country (was she still in Mexico?), she felt good. Damn good.

"Last night, Rohypnol. About an hour ago we dosed you with MDMA."

"What are you gonna do to me? Rape me?"

"We're going to have sex with you. Whether or not you consent is up to you. But if I may make a suggestion - fight us and you'll be miserable, but relax and let the narcotics in your system do what they were designed to do, and you might just end up having the time of your life."

Julie pondered it for a moment. She knew it would be a sin to willingly participate in lesbian sex, and sex out of wedlock, and a threesome couldn’t be godly, but what was the use in fighting it? Besides, she had the rest of her life to repent. "So you're going to have sex with me whether I want to or not. That sounds a lot like rape, but I guess I'll play along. Can I at least be untied?"

"Sorry, dear, your restraints are necessary."

"Fuck. Alright. Well, how do we get this shit started?"

"Ooh, look at you, raring to go." Carla ran and jumped onto the bed with Julie, and immediately began feeling her up. Her hands started with Julie's face, caressing her cheeks, then moved down her shoulders and over her breasts until they reached her belly. They lingered there, and the woman purred. "Mmmm, so soft and warm, mmmm, I just love tummies." Carla worked a finger into Julie's navel and prodded gently around.

"I'm seventeen," Julie said tentatively. "Not sure if it matters, but full disclosure." She didn't think it mattered.

Carla only giggled, then moved her fingers down to Julie's slit. She did something magical down there, causing Julie to have a sharp intake of breath. "You like that?" Carla asked.

Julie nodded. She liked that very much. Carla continued her magic trick on Julie's snatch while moving one hand up to massage the girl's tits. She kneaded the buoyant, pliant flesh that composed Julie's modest bosom, giving the nips a twist now and again, and Julie lost herself in ecstasy. She barely even noticed when Luis stripped down and climbed on the bed behind her.

Her gaze was held by Carla, whose eyes had been green last night but now were brown. The woman was staring intently at her and wearing a creepy smile, but she was so good with her hands, and as Julie felt an orgasm building in her loins one of those skilled hands moved away to grab something. "Don't stop," Julie moaned. "Oh God, please."

A double headed dildo appeared from underneath the pillows, and Carla eased one end into her own wet cunt, then guided the other end into Julie as she carefully slid beneath the teen girl. Julie's gasp was one of both pleasure and pain as her hymen burst, and blood trickled down onto Carla.

"Oh, a virgin. Mmmm. You're really something, Julie."

"I'm... ah... ah... sorry," Julie grunted in between moans as they found their rhythm together.

"Don't be," Carla said through clinched teeth. "I like virgins."

Julie responded with a series of girlish cries that suddenly became squawks when Luis' throbbing pecker was crammed up her ass. It was painful at first, then mildly unpleasant, but soon after she found it only added to her pleasure. For several minutes they fucked like this, the two adults creating a teenage sandwich, and Julie was panting in immeasurable delectation. She never dreamed anything could feel so good.

She was in the midst of what was either her third or fourth orgasm when she felt an acute discomfort in her belly pushing its way through all the pleasure. When she glanced down, she was appalled and amazed to see the glint of a steel blade protruding nearly six inches from her midriff. She had been stabbed! Luis had run her clean through.

Carla continue to be impressed by how perfect Julie was. In the nude the girl was even more beautiful. Her breasts were just on the small side of average, but they were wonderfully perky and went well with her body shape. Her hips were curvy and her ass was plump and round and her stomach was the best part of all. It was a delectably smooth, soft, slightly pudgy wall of flesh, but there was no bulge to it - her tummy was completely flat. Her navel was a vertical slit squeezed in the middle of a spectacular sea of moon-colored flesh.

And she was a virgin. That little revelation had done wonders for Carla’s libido. Julie's voice, so cute and high-pitched and girlish, her virginity, and her sweet, adorable visage all painted a picture of innocence that was countered only by her bright, daring eyes and her subtly sexy body language.

Watching the girl ride the dildo, working herself into a frenzy, her incredible teenage body glistening with sweat, was the greatest thing Carla had ever seen. That is until Luis' bowie knife emerged from the poor girl's belly. The face Julie made was priceless. Her blue eyes widened in shock, her lips curled into something akin to a sneer, and her sexy moans became deeper and more throaty.

The blade disappeared and left a wide vertical slit about an inch to the left of Julie's belly button, and a spurt of blood jettisoned from Julie's tummy and splashed onto Carla. Luis wasted no time in shoving the knife through Julie again, and this time it punched through an inch and a half to the right of the girl's navel, again running parallel to her natural slit.

"Wait, stop," Julie croaked. The blade disappeared as it was withdrawn from her flesh again, and they continued to fuck. Julie's blood ran down to her crotch and mixed with her cunt juices, making for a different kind of lubricant. The girl tried to reach her belly so she could cover her wounds, but her hands stopped short around her hips. "Stop. I need... I need help."

Carla scrunched up so she could lick the girl's tummy, dipping her tongue into the crack of her navel, then she laid back and fumbled under the pillow until she found her hunting knife.

Julie's eyes fixated on Carla's weapon and she managed a meek protest, "No, wait, please," just before Carla plunged the blade into her soft flesh. She began thrusting in and out, matching the rhythm of the knife to the rhythm of her hips pumping against Julie's crotch. Her flurries were all focused in the center of the girl's abdomen, in between the two gaping wounds Luis had left.

Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. In and out. In and out. She savored the gentle resistance the knife met each time it moved forward into Julie's guts, the soft grunts the cute teen made each time her belly was pierced, and the quiet squishing sound of the blade parting tender teenage flesh over and over. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Some of the wounds began to overlap, and pink tubes began to press through the gaps in Julie's beautiful skin.

Carla paused, then planted the knife in the left side of Julie's abdomen. This was Luis' cue to run the girl through again, and his bowie knife poked through high in Julie's stomach, only an inch and a half below her ribs. Her perfect lips formed a wry smirk as her eyebrows furrowed, and a spray of blood spewed between her gritted teeth. Luis pried the front of his blade downward through Julie's tummy, and Carla pulled her blade sideways, slicing the girl open.

"Awk," Julie squealed helplessly, as more and more of her digestive tract spilled out of her belly. A massive tangle of glistening pink tubes drooped from the eight inch vertical slit Carla's knife made, tracing from the left side of her gut to just beneath her navel. So much more gore and blood along with a bulging mess of her large intestine made an exodus from the gaping wound Luis had just left in her.

"Oh fuck, my guts! I can see my guts!" Julie's cute, girlish voice had grown even more shrill and incredibly small, and her terror gave Carla a massive surge of pleasure. In a frenzy, she savaged the poor teen’s belly six more times with her knife. Julie wordlessly articulated her devastation with a sound that wasn’t quite human, and when she regained enough of her wits to speak, she blabbed, “Fucking fuck. Fuck my guts. Oh fuck, those are my intestines.”

Carla hadn’t even noticed when Luis had removed Julie’s restraints, but the girl’s tiny hands were free and clutched uselessly at her spilled entrails. Meanwhile, Luis had stood up, his formidable pecker standing at attention, and he set aside his Bowie knife and helped himself to a loop of Julie’s small intestines, wrapping them around his throbbing penis. “Fuck your guts? Don’t mind if I do.”

It was the first time since they had awoken Julie that he spoke, and Carla bleated with laughter. Julie seemed less amused.

“You fucked me up. You really fucking butchered me. I can’t believe it.” Julie’s strength was gone, and with Luis no longer behind her she slumped backwards until her shoulders touched the bed. Her feet were still pinned beneath her buttocks, so this stretched her stomach taught, pulling some of the gashes in her belly open even wider. Blood was spilling from her mouth as she spoke, and she lifted her head just enough to look at the mess they had made of her midsection.

Both hands splayed across her breadbasket, trying to cover as many wounds as possible and perhaps stave off death a little longer, she offered one final plea to her captors. “Please, help me. I don’t wanna die. Please take me to a hospital.”

Luis grinned demonically and looked at her with wide, psychotic eyes as he stroked his cock with her bowels, but he did not reply. Carla only laughed and bit her lower lip as she continued to fuck her dildo and watch Julie intently. Julie understood then that they were sadists, and her begging was getting them off. It’s what they wanted. She was going to die on that bed, and no one was going to help her.

The MDMA made the emotional impact of this realization all the more powerful, and there are no words to express the turmoil and devastation Julie felt. Her God had tested her, and she had failed. All the years she spent praying and going to church and practicing abstinence and trying to do the right thing, and in the end God had put her in an impossible situation just to see if she could overcome the drugs and the peril of her own life to fight off sexual deviance.

Of course she had failed, because it wasn’t a fair test. It was an act of a cruel and uncaring God, and the reward of eternal life would not be hers. She would not even live to see the tender age of eighteen.

Julie wrestled with these thoughts as Luis finally climaxed, and he pointed his one-eyed willie at Julie’s stunning face, spurting his seed onto her cheeks and her mouth and her eyes. It was the ultimate insult, and all Julie could do was blink at the salty semen and try not to cry.

It occurred to her that these two had done this before to other girls, and they would continue to do it many more times without suffering any consequences. Who knew how many innocents would lose their lives and their chance at Heaven because of these two? God wouldn't stop them, clearly, but perhaps Julie might. There was a Bowie knife within her reach, and she was no longer restrained.

Summoning all her remaining strength and all her will power, Julie suddenly shoved herself off the bed, and in the process she managed to snag the Bowie knife that had spilled her colon. She ended up on the floor, fighting off severe disorientation, and she somehow rose to her feet. Her vision was spotty and her head was spinning, and she had no idea how she was standing, but she could see that her actions had caught Carla and Luis off guard.

She tried to lunge forward but her legs were wooden and her balance was shaky, and she slipped on her own ropy guts and went mostly sideways. Carla was still on the bed, still pounding her snatch with that double-headed dildo, her eyes wide and intrigued, but not fearful. Meanwhile Luis' initial surprise had subsided and he pulled up his pants and found a Ruger LCP .380 in his back pocket.

Julie tried again to close the distance between her and this hateful bastard, hoping to bury that huge knife in his black heart, but before she could, Luis raised the pistol and put three holes in her right breast. The gunshots were frighteningly loud in the confines of the basement, and the impact stole her breath from her.

Her right lung was in tatters, and her forward motion stalled before it had even rightfully begun. Instead of charging ahead as she had intended, Julie took a wavering half step, then slumped back and sat down on the bed again. She peered at her wounded tit and saw two neat holes in her areola, one of which had consumed a small portion of her nipple, and the third hole a little farther towards the inner curve of her breast.

“Of course,” she sighed, blood beginning to flow more freely from her mouth, and now also trickling from both her nostrils. She looked up at Luis and told him, “Fuck my life.” He smiled at her as she let the Bowie knife slip from her fingers and rattle on the floor, and he put the Ruger back in his pocket.

All she had earned herself was a quicker death, and although she was suffering greatly, she wanted to cling to every second of her life. When it was over she either had Hell to look forward to, or possibly just an eternity of nothingness, but she was not eager to experience either of those things.

She lay back on the bed and just tried to breathe - a task that used to be so simple and automatic but now required a great deal of labor. This is it, she thought. This is where I die. She still managed to spend nearly ten harrowing minutes lying on her back and thinking about her death before her life finally ended.


Could Julie eventually get hung?


Great new story. Interesting combinations of elements in it.

Personally, I'm more for the excessive and long-winded shooting scenarios, but either way it's always fun to read about Julie's tenacity, no matter the situation.

In any case, just fun to see you posting more.


Thank you, Malesor. I’m not sure what I’ll do next. I’ve had a couple suggestions in this thread that I like, including the failed drug mule scenario where Julie’s apprehended by a cartel, and the idea of rats eating Julie’s belly, but I really want to finish a story where Julie gets arrowed to death.

To the anonymous poster asking for a hanging, it’s possible I suppose. I’m not nearly as big a fan of asphyxiation as I am of shootings and stabbings, hence the screen name, but I do enjoy a good hanging now and again. I have one fantasy that’s been floating around in my fucked up head for quite a while that ends with Julie being hanged, but there’s so much shit up there that I never get around to writing, so we’ll see.


You could satisfy both the blood lust and the hanging with a scene like the death of Judas. See what you can do with hanging (Matthew 27) and disembowelment (Acts 1:18). You may as well review the source material of my faith before you dismiss it, right? It's easier than you might think to be a Christian guro fan. Just read some Old Testament. (Oddly, though, crucifixion doesn't turn me on.)


I was actually raised to be a Christian, and spent countless hours in church; it just never made sense to me. I didn't just dismiss it off hand, I had to go against everything I was taught from a very early age. Anyway, I don't want to turn this thread into a religious debate, and I'm not trying to bash Christianity with my stories. It's really not my intent. Like 95% of the people I love most in this world are Christians.

My one fantasy that does involve hanging also involves disembowelment, so we're on the same page there.


You're writing one with arrows? That'd probably be fun to read, you've used them before in a different scenario, and I did like it then.
The one you currently have in your head, is it all arrows? Or are more methods involved? In any case, any story from you sounds great.


Hi bloodlust,
I like to read that you think about writing a story about rats biting and eating Julie's poor belly. THANK YOU!!!!


Yes, Malesor, I keep picturing her just full of arrows. I don’t know what I’ll end up writing right now, though.


Bump to save from faggot spammer


Your stories don't feel like Christian-bashing at all. Except of course when there is literal bashing involved. What good is faith if it is never questioned? I love the stories, on many levels, and I'm looking forward to the next one.


Bump to avoid getting this treasure trove spammed away


Looks like Gurochan is back in action. Thanks for the heads up, BL.
Bumping this so we can get things going again.


The Escape Room

“Have you been to an escape room before?”

“No, have you?”

“I went with my brother and a few of his friends like three months ago. It’s pretty tight. I was the only reason we escaped.” Julie flashed a big shit-eating grin.

“So what, you’re the escape room queen now?” Kari asked.

“Fucking goddam right I am.”

“How do you know they didn’t just let you think you were solving everything? Maybe they all had a crush on you and wanted you to think you were the hero.”

“My brother had a crush on me?”

“Maybe not him, but the rest of them? Boys are pigs.”

“Dude, I’m smarter than that. Don’t be a hater, slut.”

“Yeah, well I guess we’ll see.”

“We’ll see? Does that mean we’re going?”

“Fuck it. I can’t have you gloating about your escape room skills forever. Lauding that shit over me. I’ve gotta show you how it’s done.”

“Yes!” Julie cackled and clapped her hands. “Game on, bitch!” Hanging a right, she exclaimed, “I think it’s like five minutes from here.”

"We can't do the same puzzle you already solved though."

"No shit, dumbass. This is actually a new place. Tommy tried it a couple weeks ago with Tony and Kevin, but they failed. That’s because he didn’t invite his little sister." Julie winked and stuck out her tongue.

"You're so full of it," Kari said, laughing.

"I can't wait to solve this shit in record time and go home to rub it in his face. I need you to be kicking ass though. We gotta work as a team."

"Oh, so now you need my help, do you?" Kari asked coyly.

"Fuck yeah, I do. You're the Batman to my Robin."

"I'm Batman?"

"I mean… yeah, fuck it, you're fucking Batman." Julie laughed loudly. "You're gonna hafta use your badass detective skills and I'll be your trusty sidekick. We're gonna crush this shit and escape so fucking fast we'll demand our money back."

"How much does it cost?"

"I don't know, this is my first time going to this place."

"But your brother went."

"Yeah, but the dick sucker didn't tell me what it costs. He just told me how much dick he sucked. The other place I went to was twenty bucks a person, so it'll probably be like that."

Kari frowned. "It better be worth it."

"Bitch, don't get cheap on me. It'll be worth it."

Kari rustled through her purse and pulled out a wallet, then peeked inside. "What if I'm short?"

"How short?"

Kari smiled. "Twenty dollars?"

"You lying cunt!"

"Okay, but I might be short a couple bucks."

"I got you, sister bitch."


"This is it!" Julie said, pulling into a small, eight-car parking lot. They were in a crowded commercial district, with the occasional fancy home crammed between office buildings. There were no signs or obvious markings to indicate this was the place, but Julie knew it was across the street from a gynecologist's office - the aptly named Dr. Kooter. Her disgusting brother had been keen on pointing that out.

There was a sidewalk that led to a stairway behind the office building they had parked beside, and through double-swinging doors was a clerk behind a desk and a waiting area with a few plush chairs. The clerk was a mousy man in his mid thirties with spectacles, short black hair, and his nose buried in a book, and he didn't even bother to look up when the girls made their entrance.

"Is this the escape room?" Julie asked cautiously, and the clerk cast his squirrely eyes upon her.

"Yes ma'am, is it just the two of you?"

"Yes sir, it's just us."

"It's twenty-five dollars each, please."

Kari gave Julie a bashful look and handed her a ten, a five, and two ones. "You still got me?"

Julie stuffed the bills in her pocket and answered, "Of course." She pulled a fifty from her own wallet and handed it to the clerk.

After holding the fifty up to the light and inspecting it, he stowed it in the register and pressed a button. "Have a seat. Our host, Mike, will be right with you."

"Must be nice to have cash to blow," Kari muttered as they sat down.

"You're such a fucking hater," Julie retorted. "Besides, we're not blowing it. This is gonna be fun."

Mike arrived very quickly from behind a door and introduced himself with a practiced grace. Rules were laid out about where and how to look for clues without damaging the property, and he collected their cell phones so they wouldn’t be able to cheat. He gave them the familiar spiel about working together and communicating to get through the challenges they were about to face, and then he led them beyond the door from which he had appeared and down a corridor.

There were rooms on either side of the hallway, but they passed them, turned a corner, and at last came to the room they would be occupying. Mike let the girls enter first, and Julie was about to ask why the room was so empty when the door shut behind them. She heard the rattling of locks and grabbed the door handle, but it didn't turn. They were trapped.

"Is this not how it works?" Kari asked, curious about Julie's sudden apprehension.

"No, this is not how it's supposed to fucking work. They're supposed to give us a scenario. There's supposed to be stuff in here." Julie waved a hand at the white, windowless walls and bare marble floor. "How can we find clues and solve puzzles in a room that's completely fucking empty?" She hammered a fist against the door.

“Dude, calm down, you’re freaking me out a little.”

“You should be freaked out a fucking lot. This is wrong.”

“Wait, quiet.” Kari had her head tilted slightly and her smoldering hazel brown eyes staring intently at nothing, the way a person looks when she's listening for a faint sound.

After a second or two of silence Julie heard it. “What is it?”

“Sounds like a snake?”

“There’s no way there’s…” Julie trailed off as she glanced up towards the ceiling. A cloud of light gray was seeping through an air duct, and as soon as she spotted it she began to smell it. “We’re being gassed.”


"We're being fucking gassed." Julie pointed out the ominous cloud, and the girls exchanged looks of horror before Julie asked, "You think they’re gonna use us for human trafficking?”

“You mean get us hooked on drugs and make us hookers?”

Julie nodded.

Kari smiled sardonically. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“It doesn’t?”

“No, I was thinking they were gonna torture and kill us."

Julie gulped and her blue eyes widened. "Okay, you're right. Whoring doesn't sound that bad. What kind of gas do you think it is?”

“Maybe it’s acidic. It’ll turn our insides to mush and we’ll start bleeding out our eyes and ears.”

“Fucking Jesus, Kari. What the fuck?”

Kari shrugged. “I figure if I go for something so ridiculously awful it can’t be true, then we’ll end up being pleasantly surprised.”

“Yeah, right. Nothing about this is pleasant.”

“I don’t know about that. I think I’m starting to get high.”

“Me too.”

“Could be they just wanted to hotbox us. Get us stoned before we solve their puzzle.”

Julie laughed, “Bitch, this ain’t fucking Cheech and Chong. Besides, that doesn’t smell like weed. It smells like burnt rubber.”

“I think it smells like one of your farts.” Kari wrinkled her cute little button nose.

Julie laughed again. “Goddammit, Kari, we’re being abducted and poisoned. We’re probably gonna end up on Dateline or some shit. How the fuck can you make jokes?”

“You gotta keep your sense of humor in a time of crisis.”

“I guess you’re right. This could be the last time we get to laugh.”

"You don't really think we're gonna die, do you?"

"I thought we were gonna be drugged up whores, remember? You're the one that went with the torture and death scenario."

"I wonder if they'll rape us first," Kari smiled playfully.

"Maybe they'll just rape us and let us go?" Julie never thought she'd be so hopeful to be raped.

"Maybe. Maybe they'll get a horse to fuck us while they disembowel us."

"Jesus Christ, Kari. How the fuck do you come up with this stuff?"

Kari shrugged and yawned. “Are you getting sleepy?”

The room had taken on a foggy quality, and Kari shimmered behind waves of mist. “Yeah, I think it’s the gas. They’re putting us to sleep.”

“What if we never wake up?” Kari asked, her big eyes suddenly wide and fearful.

"I guess that would be better than getting raped by a horse with my guts hanging out."

“I don’t wanna die, Julie.”

“Yeah, me neither. How about we just take a quick nap instead?”

Kari offered a half-hearted grin, “Okay, just a quick nap.” Her eyelids felt like they were filled with lead, and before she knew it she was asleep.

Julie was the first to wake and soak in their new surroundings. They were still in the same room, at least as far as she could tell, but the room was no longer empty. There was a file cabinet in the far left corner, there was a desk with some notes, some books, and a computer on it pushed up against the right wall, and in the center of the room there was a girl with her guts on the wrong side of her body.

The girl was strapped to a steel table tilted at a seventy degree angle, so she was almost completely upright. Her wrists and ankles were held by leather restraints, and there was an outcrop on the low end of the table that served as a foot rest, keeping her from sliding down or putting undue strain on her arms. It was unclear if she was alive, although Julie thought she saw the girl’s chest moving ever so slightly with the admission and expulsion of breath.

Quite a lot of blood was spattered on the girl’s clothes and pooled on the tiled floor below, and still more was dripping and trickling down. The girl, despite her disembowelment and massive blood loss, was beautiful, with a round face and big pouty lips, dirty blonde hair and fair skin. She had a full figure with generous curves, clothed in a white cotton half shirt adorned with a dead yellow emoji and a black sarong draped skirt, and her feet were bare.

After only a few seconds, Julie realized her own attire was oddly similar, as was Kari’s, the only difference being the emoji on their shirts. Julie’s was a smiley face, and Kari’s was frowning. The clothes Kari and Julie had been wearing when they entered the establishment were mysteriously gone.

“Kari,” Julie called to her friend, who was just beginning to stir. “Kari, wake the fuck up. There’s a dead chick in here.”

“Wha… huh?” Kari murmured, rubbing her eyes and slowly sitting up.

“I’m not dead,” the eviscerated girl croaked.

“Oh shit, my bad,” Julie answered.

“What the fuck?” Kari asked, horrified. “Shit really got real in here, didn’t it?”

“Pluh… please. Help me,” the blonde begged.

“Who are you?” Julie asked her.

“Sara. They cap…”

Sara was interrupted by a voice booming from a speaker somewhere in the ceiling. “Welcome to the first ever life or death escape room. Your game begins now. You will have sixty minutes to figure out how to escape, and if you should succeed, you will be free to go. This facility has been rented by a phantom, made up entirely of forged documents, so nothing will be traced back to us. Good luck.”

“Holy shit, are they serious?” Kari asked, her voice shrill.

“They gutted Sara here, so I think they’re pretty serious.”

“You think we could be dead in an hour?”

“We could be dead in sixty seconds, but I’m not planning on dying here, so wudduya say we figure this shit out?”

“Alright. Okay. We got this, right?”

“Fucking goddam right we do. I’m the escape room queen, remember?”

"Sure. Of course. So what do we do? How does this work?"

Julie tried the door handle, confirming it was locked. There was a keyhole on their side of the door, so the goal was to find the key that fit it.

"You go look at the stuff on that desk. See if that computer turns on. Be Batman. I'm gonna ask Sara some questions." Kari nodded and rushed over the desk, and Julie approached Sara. The dying blonde looked as if she was slipping in and out of consciousness, so Julie hoped she could get some answers. She lightly caressed the girl's face and gave her cheek the gentlest slap she could manage, "Sara, are you still with me?"

Dark, hazel eyes looked up at Julie, and in them she saw the terrible torment this girl was enduring. "Help," Sara pleaded.

"Hang in there, sweetie, we're gonna get you outta here. We need your help first, though. I need to ask you some questions."

Sara nodded and whispered weakly, "Okay."

“How long have you been here?”

Sara glanced at something over Julie’s shoulder, and Julie followed her gaze to the clock above the door. It was a classic clock with a minute hand, hour hand, and second hand, and Roman numerals to mark the time, and it currently announced it was 3:47. Julie made a mental note that they needed to escape by a quarter til five. “A couple hours.”

“Did you come in to try the escape room too?” Sara looked confused and her eyes lost focus for a moment. “Sara, stay with me, baby.”

“I was taken… Two guys. Never seen them before… They grabbed me outside my apartment. Said it was for some kind of game.”

“And they’re the ones that did this to you?”

Sara nodded.

“Did you see them setting things up in here?”

“No. This was all… already here. They just brought ya… you two… in like ha… half an hour ago.”

Julie realized this was not the same room where they were gassed after all. “Is there anything else you can remember that might help us get out?”

Sara’s chin quivered and she shook her head, “No,” but Julie thought she detected a hint of dishonesty in the blonde girl’s eyes.

“Julie, take a look at this.” Kari had managed to turn on the PC and she had several pieces of paper strewn across the desk.

“What do you got?” Julie asked, walking over with piqued interest.

“There’s a few diagrams of, well, guts and stuff,” Kari pointed to some fold outs that looked like they were taken from a health magazine, some showing images of internal organs and one a complete map of the female digestive system. “The PC needs a password to be unlocked, but there’s this note that probably has some clues.”

Julie picked up the note and read it.

[i][b]Sara has proven to be uncooperative. All we could get out of her was some cryptic message about us knowing the hour of our demise. She knows more than she has let on, that much is certain. We have other methods at our disposal to get her to spill her guts.[/b][/i]

“What else do you think she knows?” Kari asked in a whispering voice.

“It’s a prop,” Julie said, “Just some bullshit story they made up to set the stage for their escape room.”

“So what do we do next?”

“Check out those books. Flip through them, see if anything’s hidden inside. I’m gonna try the file cabinets.” Kari did as Julie instructed, and Julie soon found each drawer to be locked tight. She pushed the cabinets away from the wall and peeked behind them, but saw nothing of import. “You see anything?”

Kari shook her head. “Not unless they expect us to study up on interrogation techniques and the human anatomy.”

Julie mulled it over. “The hour of our demise. They wouldn’t have put that in there if it didn’t mean anything.” She looked up at the clock. It kept time well enough. The second hand ticked away the seconds and they had less than fifty-five minutes to escape this death trap if the voice over the intercom was to be believed. She hurried over to the doorway and stretched her fingers as high as she could, but the clock was just out of her reach. “Come over here and get on my shoulders.”

Julie was a stout and sturdy girl with an athletic body that was taller and meatier than Kari’s, so she was easily able to hoist her slight of build companion onto her back, and Kari snatched the clock from the wall. “There’s a key taped to the back!” Kari cried excitedly.

“Score! Now be careful when you put the clock back. We need to know how much time we have left, so don’t fuck with it.”

“Yup. Got it.” Kari hung the clock back on the wall, hopped nimbly off Julie’s shoulders and held up the key.

“It’s gotta open one of those cabinets,” Julie told her. The girls scurried across the room, eager to test the key in each lock, which as it turned out wasn’t necessary. It opened the first one they tried, and inside they found a hunting knife, a box of surgical gloves, and a small spiral notebook.

The book was titled [u]Sara's Journal[/u], and on the first page they found the following scrawled:

[i][b]They found me! How am I going to get out of this? Everything’s at stake now. People are counting on me. All that we've worked for could come crumbling down around us. Six of them outside my door, ready to burst through any second. Someone must have sold us out. Who could be the mole, I wonder? Oscar? Roberto? Doesn't matter. I've got no time left, and one more key to hide. Swallow it.[/b][/i]

Julie and Kari read it together, then looked at each other and looked at the knife. "No," Kari said, horrified.

"It fits. It makes sense. The diagrams of the digestive system, the books about anatomy."

"We can't."

"We have to." Julie picked up the knife and a pair of gloves, ever mindful of the clock, and walked around to face Sara. "Sweetie, I'm sorry."

"You found out, didn't you?" Sara was trembling.

"Found out what?"

"They… made me swallow a key."

Julie nodded. "It's our only way out. Either we find the key inside you, or we all die.” She pulled the rubber gloves over her hands and took hold of Sara’s bowels. “I’ll try to be gentle.” Several coils of intestines dangled between the blonde girl’s knees, totaling nearly eight feet in length, and Julie began to smooth them out, squeezing as tenderly as possible up and down the piping, feeling for something hard and metal inside.

Her efforts didn’t pan out, so she began to tug, and more slippery guts snaked their way through the gash in Sara’s tummy. The poor blonde whined and whimpered, but to her credit, she didn’t scream. Time slipped away, and Julie still found nothing. Her fingers became less benign as four o’ clock came and went, and she gave the glistening pink snakes a yank.

Sara yelped as nearly all of her small intestines and a sizable portion of her large intestine came unraveled and spilled messily out of her belly. Julie paid little mind and went right to work feeling for that damned key. Squirts of excrement spattered the table when Julie squeezed the lower portion of Sara’s colon, and still she found nothing.

The search became exponentially more frenzied, and Julie took the knife to Sara’s midriff and sliced open her upper abdomen. Digging through muscles and fat, Julie found the girl’s stomach and pulled it free. She tore it apart like a paper bag, Sara’s brown eyes opened wide in astonishment, and at last the key rattled on the floor.

“I found it!” Julie squealed, peeling the gloves off her hands and plucking up the key in excitement.

Sara gurgled on a mouthful of blood, and Kari watched it all unfold as if in a trance. “You killed her,” Kari finally said. It wasn’t an accusation, just a statement of incredulity.

“No. The people that put her here did that. I’m trying to save the people that are still alive.” Julie stuck the key in the second file cabinet’s lock, and it turned easily enough. Within the drawer she found a loose piece of paper and a lockbox with a combination lock. The paper had the tell-tale torn loops along the left edge of a note ripped from a spiral notebook. On it the following was penned in the same handwriting as contained in the previously discovered journal:

[b][i]Combination is stored on PC. Open Microsoft Word. Search for Lockbox Combo. Take what’s inside the box. 1 of you escapes. loss is part of life. it cannot be prevented. fret not. everyone dies in the end.[/i][/b]

“Well that’s not very encouraging,” Kari noted, her large brown eyes wide and her arching eyebrows raised cutely.

Julie’s own brilliant blues narrowed and her brow furrowed. “I don’t give a fuck what that says. We’re both escaping, and we’re both winning. Losing is not gonna be part of our lives today.”

“Looks like we need to figure out the password for the computer.”

“Yup. Any ideas?”

“There must be something more to this note. So far we haven’t really learned anything from it.”

“Yeah, like why is it written like some lame ass haiku?”

“Well, it’s definitely not a haiku.”

“Whatever, bitch. This isn’t English class. You know what I mean.”

“I do?”

“Like there’s a pattern or something somewhere. It’s just too weird.”

“I get it, yeah. Wasn’t the other note like that too? The one in the journal?”

"No shit, I think you're right!" Julie pulled out the journal from the top drawer and compared the notes. "Wudduya see?"

"You're never supposed to start a sentence with a number. You know, like a digit. One should be spelled out here."

"Okay, what does that tell us? Somebody sucks at grammar?"

"Maybe, but more likely there's a reason for it. Like they did it on purpose. Look here. They didn't capitalize the first word of the last four sentences either."

"Why would they…" Julie trailed off, deep in thought for a few seconds. She was onto something, surely. Her shockingly beautiful and expressive face slowly lit up like a Christmas tree, and she nearly screeched with delight. "Kari, you fucking genius! That's it. It [i]is[/i] intentional. It's part of the password. Look at the first letter of each sentence!"

Julie left the journal and the paper in Kari's hands, not sticking around for Kari to have her 'oh shit' moment. Instead she rushed over to the PC, the clock ever present in her mind, and typed COST1life into the password field and hit enter.

The desktop appeared, and she found Microsoft Word and opened the document saved as ‘Lockbox Combo’.


Each of you holds a key. One leads to life, the other leads to death. Choose wisely.[/i][/b]

Julie felt her skirt for pockets, knowing there were none. There was nowhere else she could hold a key. Kari was watching her, and Julie was reluctant to share the disturbing message, but Kari could see the obvious concern on her friend’s gorgeous and expressive face. “What’s wrong? What’s it say?”

Julie hesitated still, “It says… each of us holds a key. One leads to life and one leads to death.”

A horrible realization dawned on Kari. “Holds a key? Where?” They both knew, but neither of them wanted to say.

Julie looked to Sara, and while she appeared more sickly than ever, the blonde’s eyes were half open and she somehow still clung to life. “Did they make us swallow keys as well? Did you see them do that?”

Sara’s only reply was a desperate, inhuman moan.

"Open the lockbox," Kari advised. "Maybe we're jumping to conclusions too soon."

"Maybe," Julie agreed. Taking a deep breath, she spun the numbers on the combination lock to match the computer screen. There was an audible click and she lifted the lid. Inside was a scalpel and another note. Her heart sank at the sight of the scalpel, but she picked up the note and read it aloud.

[i][b]Two girls are trapped in a room with only two exits. One exit is guarded by a fire-breathing dragon with a taste for human flesh. The other leads to a room composed of glass prisms that reflect sunlight in such a way that anyone who enters is immediately burned alive. How do they escape?[/b][/i]

Kari, who didn’t know about the scalpel, appeared thoughtful, welcoming the riddle. “Let me think. Give me a minute.”

Julie decided not to tell her friend about the surgical tool in the lockbox. It already had Julie shaken up enough - there was no sense in distracting Kari from solving their latest puzzle. So while all Julie could think about was what it would feel like to have her belly slit open and her insides fondled, Kari considered their riddle.

After a couple of minutes in silence, Kari posed a guess. “What if they opened the door to the dragon, got him to breathe fire through the room they’re in and melt the glass in the other room?”



“Her,” Julie repeated. “The dragon’s a her. Why assume it’s a he?”

“Jesus, Julie. This is hardly the time for a lesson in feminism. Yeah, male shouldn’t be the default sex. I get it. So?”

“So I like the way you’re thinking, but it’s too complicated. Too many things could go wrong, and it doesn’t help us figure out how to get out of here. There’s gotta be a simpler answer.”

Kari thought a bit longer, then posited another solution. “Okay, what about this? One of the girls sacrifices herself in the glass room, cooking herself alive. The other girl then feeds her buddy to the dragon, giving her time to escape.”

“Better. It almost fits. But who’s the sacrifice? How do we know the dragon isn’t intelligent enough to kill the escaping girl and save the one that’s already dead for dessert? The answer to these things is usually more obvious. Like once you get it, there’s no doubt it’s the right answer.”

“Well, I’m still waiting for your guess.”

“I know, I know. Fuck! I can’t fucking think! I need to focus. Okay, let me read it again.” Julie read the note silently this time, carefully contemplating each word. When she got to [i]sunlight[/i], a lightbulb went off. “I got it!”


“Yeah, they escaped at night. Wait until night, then go through the glass room.”

“Of course!“ Kari cried. “[i]You’re[/i] the goddam genius.”

“I dunno about that.” Julie offered her best ‘aw shucks’ smile. “I’m not totally sure how that riddle helps us.”

Kari looked at the clock. It was 3:27. “How much time do we have?”

“Like twenty minutes, maybe a little less.”

“Well we can’t wait until night time, that’s for sure.” Kari chewed her plump lower lip.

“Kari…” Julie thought it might be time to tell her friend about the scalpel. It was there because one of them needed to be cut open, and perhaps the riddle was meant to tell them which one.

“Wait!” Kari interrupted. “There’s a light switch.”

Julie held her breath, allowing herself to hope. Maybe the next clue would change everything. Maybe they were being led to incorrect assumptions, only to find the key was not so difficult to acquire after all. Kari hit the switch and the room darkened, the only remaining light emanating from a black light fixed in the center of the ceiling.

Kari went to try the door, but Julie was frozen, her heart sinking. “No. No no no no no No!”

Kari took her hand off the handle after confirming it was still locked and looked at Julie. “Okay, Shia LaBeouf. What’s wrong?”

Julie pointed to the glowing letters on the west wall.

[b][i]Don’t be sad, girl. Happiness inside you is the key.[/i][/b]

“It’s me,” Julie lamented, pointing at the yellow smiley emoji on her half shirt. “I have the key. I’m happiness. I fucking paid thirty-three dollars for you to gut me!”

“Julie…” Kari looked like she had something important to say, but she trailed off.

“Maybe I can shit it out. Maybe it’s far enough along already.” Julie scurried off to the far corner, pulled down her skirt and panties and squatted.

“You’re really gonna take a shit right there?”

“If there’s a chance you don’t have to gut me, fuck yeah I am.” Julie’s exquisitely beautiful face scrunched up and her chiseled jaw clenched as she squeezed her bowels with everything she had.

“Well make it fast, because we’re running out of time.” Kari flipped the lights back on and Julie lost any semblance of privacy, but she didn't really care.

In a strained voice, Julie replied, “Hand me a pair of those surgical gloves and that journal.” Kari obliged, taking a pair of gloves for herself as well, then she moved over to the steel table and released Sara from her binds. The blonde had died at some point while the girls were working out their latest puzzle, so she slumped limply to the floor once the leather straps were removed.

A chill went down Julie's spine as she realized Kari was getting the table ready for her. It was the sensible thing to do - if the key wasn’t in this pile of feces she was creating, they’d need to act quickly - but she still wished Kari had waited a bit longer.

Julie pulled the rubber gloves over her hands, and after pushing as much excrement through her asshole as she possibly could in the space of ninety seconds, she swiped at her crack with some crumpled up paper and got to work digging.

Terds were plucked apart with a feverish and steadily increasing desperation. She was fairly certain she would have felt a key sliding out her butt, so she didn’t really expect to find anything, but the thought of being disemboweled was too terrible to entertain.

“Julie… Julie, we’re running out of time.”

When Julie realized she was picking through the same piece of shit for the third time, she knew what had to be done. “Fuck! FUCK! Alright. Okay.” She pulled off the gloves and started towards the table. "There's a scalpel in that lockbox. Maybe you could use it? Try not to butcher me too badly, and then I can be stitched up when we make it out of here?"

"Yeah, okay. You got it. Let me strap you in first."

Julie stepped onto the outcrop at the foot of the table and stretched her arms up into the restraints, pulling her supple tummy taught. "Okay, Batman," she said, somehow finding the courage to smile. Kari secured her wrists and ankles, then removed the scalpel from the lockbox. Julie's white half shirt was pulled high on her perky young breasts, giving Kari a full view of her tender, white belly. The clock was fast approaching 3:35, and both girls took notice.

“Okay. Do it,” Julie said, biting her lip.

Kari obliged, pressing the tiny blade into her upper abdomen. It dimpled the creamy skin before it was swallowed up, bright red blood welling up in its place. Only the slightest of gasps escaped Julie’s soft lips, and Kari drew the scalpel sideways. It began in the left side of her stomach, close to an inch below her ribs, and ended up almost directly over her navel before it left her flesh.

The cut was not deep enough to penetrate the layers of fat and muscle below the skin, so Kari had to take the blade to her a second time, retracing it through the furrow. When it still wasn’t deep enough, Kari tried a third time. Finally the incision permeated the abdominal wall, and Kari was able to push her fingers through and find a sac-like internal organ, which she assumed was the stomach.

When she began to cut her way into the sac, Julie grunted and tried not to retch. Fingers and sharp metal poked and prodded in places they did not belong, and it was far more unpleasant than she imagined it would be.

“Shit, I can’t fucking see anything,” Kari complained.

“Are you sure that’s not my liver?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t have time to read the Anatomy books. What does a liver look like?”

“I think it’s reddish?”

“Well, maybe this is your liver.”

“Don’t destroy my liver, you cunt.”

“What does a liver even do?”

“It fucking lives.”

“Is the stomach next to the liver?”

“Yes. Behind it, sort of, and to the side.”

Kari dug deeper inside Julie, and Julie made some horrible guttural sounds. “Wait, maybe this is it?”

“Oooo fuck!” Julie suddenly upchucked blood as Kari cut something new open. “Yuh. You’re fucking me… up.” The blue-eyed beauty’s teeth were clinched and more blood sprayed from between them, her lips pulled back in a snarl.

“I’m sorry, Julie, I think I might be onto something. Hang in there.”

“It burns.”

Kari explored the smaller, adjacent sac as thoroughly as possible but found nothing. She glanced back at the clock and saw she had roughly five minutes to find the key. “Julie. I’m going to need to search your intestines, and we don’t have a lot of time.”

“Of course,” Julie croaked. Kari’s gloves and forearms were bright red with gore, and more of Julie’s blood was spattered all over her shirt and face. The gaping gash in Julie’s stomach was leaking fluid like a busted transmission, and the pain was immense. “I think I’m already dying.”

“I’m going to use the knife this time,” Kari explained, already having swapped the scalpel for the larger, less precise cutting tool, and she wasted no time in plunging the blade into Julie’s tummy.

“Oooof,” Julie exhaled heavily as she was stabbed. Kari used both hands as she pulled the knife downward through Julie’s guts, carving the larger girl open. When she was finished a gaping wound that began several inches above and to the left of Julie’s center, curved down below her navel and finished slightly to the right remained.

Pink ropes had already begun to spill out, and Kari grabbed hold of them and tugged. It wasn’t as easy as one might think, but Julie felt something give inside her and a messy tangle of plumbing slopped onto her skirt between her thighs. Kari hastily began unscrambling and cajoling the pink tubing, feeling for that evasive fucking key.

Julie watched it all with wide eyes and strained groans, morbidly enraptured by this spectacular mistreatment of her innards, and it didn’t take long for Kari’s search to become increasingly brutal. As time wore on and she failed to find the key, she gave no consideration to the girl to whom these intestines belonged. She wrenched them this way and that, sometimes slicing right through the viscera instead of working out a particularly troublesome tangle.

“You’re killing me,” Julie murmured through clinched teeth.

“No, I’m trying to save you. I only have a couple minutes to find the… wait. Wait! I think I felt it. I think I’ve got it!” The excitement in Kari’s voice was unmistakeable, and she ripped and sliced and diced until a small gore-covered key rattled onto the floor.

Even though her bowels were in tatters and mostly dangling between her legs, Julie allowed herself to hope. “You did it,” she breathed. “Thank God. Let me loose and let’s get outta here.”

But Kari was already at the door, shoving the key into the lock. “I need to get the door open first,” she answered, glancing over her shoulder as she turned the key. “I…” She stopped speaking and cried out softly as ten wide blades suddenly thrust forth from within the door and ran through her midsection.

They were vertical and lined up in two rows of five, with roughly one and a quarter inches in between them. The middle blade of the lower row was less than a centimeter to the right of her oval shaped belly button. In an instant they rotated forty-five degrees, ensuring the wounds wouldn’t close, rotated back, and retracted, and the edges of the blades were serrated, so when they left Kari’s lithe flesh they took bits of her with them.

It was a roller coaster of emotions, going from the tense and traumatizing race against the clock to the relief of finding the key to the horror of having her guts shredded. Kari turned around and Julie could see the devastation and defeat on her friend's lovely face. "Oh fuck," Kari muttered, clutching her belly and sliding down, her back to the door, until her soft buttocks touched the floor.

"Did we run out of time?" Julie asked, looking at the clock. She could have sworn they had at least a minute or two left.

"It's the wrong key," Kari said miserably, and she hooked a thumb through a loop of her own entrails and pulled. "Happiness inside you. It's not addressed to you. It would have a comma…" she winced as she pulled even more of the viscera from her midriff, "after happiness. It's addressed to me. Happiness inside me. You inside me… is the key."

Julie's eyes widened and her mouth gaped as she understood. "I was supposed to pick through [i]your[/i] guts."

Kari nodded, feeling up the several feet of small intestines she now held in her lap.

"Let me loose. I can help."

"There's no time," Kari answered. In truth, there was no time for even Kari to somehow find and extract the key from her own insides, then make an escape, and they both knew it. The clock had already moved beyond 4:45, but neither of them were ready to face that fact.

Not twenty seconds passed, with Kari pulling more and more of her bowels from her belly, before the intercom sounded their doom. “Your time is up. You have failed to escape within the allotted sixty minute window. You will now be locked in this room until you are no longer living.” They heard the dead bolts engaging inside the door as those chilling words filled the air. “Thank you for participating in the first ever life and death escape room. We hope you enjoyed the experience.”

“Best thirty-three bucks I ever spent,” Julie said with a smirk. When Kari gave her a quizzical look, she added. “What? A wise-ass bitch once told me you hafta keep your sense of humor in a time of crisis.”

Kari tried to laugh, but it hurt too much. Instead she smiled sadly and answered, “You’re right. I’m going to write a rave review on Yelp.”

“Maybe if you tell them that, they’ll let us out.”

“Oh, Julie. I wanna go home.” Two large tears rolled slowly down Kari’s smooth red cheeks.

“Me too.” Julie looked down at the mess that had been made of her belly and sighed. “The escape room queen, killed by a comma.”

“Lack of a comma,” Kari corrected her.

“You knew the whole time. You were gonna tell me… but you didn’t.”

“I saw what you did to Sara. I didn’t want you to do that to me.”

“Neither did I,” Julie agreed.

“I was hoping you were right… and I was wrong. I’m so sorry, Julie.” More tears reddened Kari’s hazel eyes.

“It doesn’t matter.” [i]Nothing matters anymore.[/i] Julie almost said that second sentence out loud, but decided to keep it to herself.

“Oh, it hurts so bad. Why target our stomachs?”

“They’re probably perverts. Just waiting for a couple of cute girls to come in so they could gut them.”

They both bled in silence for the next several minutes, tortured by thoughts of their rapidly approaching mortality. They were at that stage in life where death was something that always happened to other people, and they didn’t really believe it could ever happen to them. At least until now.

“Julie, do you think there’s a heaven?”

Julie gave her pal a pensive look, “I fucking hope there is.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“I don’t know, Kari. I just… don’t know.” What Julie wouldn’t, or couldn’t, say, was deep down she didn’t believe. No matter how badly she wanted to.

“What if this is really it? Like this is all we get?”

“That would fucking suck,” Julie agreed.

“I’m so scared, Julie.” Kari’s lush lower lip was trembling, and her perfect, creamy skin had gone ghostly pale and waxy. She was sitting in a huge pool of blood that was growing at a grim rate.

Julie, who was actually terrified herself, didn’t know how to comfort her friend, so she tried to make light of the situation. “Yeah, no shit you’re scared. We’re fucking dying.” It was meant to be funny, but it came across as mean-spirited, and it was clear Kari didn’t appreciate the dark humor. Incidentally, it was the last thing she ever said to her friend.

“Julie… Jooo…” Kari’s big beautiful eyes bulged in her skull, and Julie watched all the terror and panic and desolation fade away, leaving a blank and lifeless stare. Kari was gone, and only a corpse remained.

Julie held on for another six endless minutes, left to endure the tortuous agony in her belly and the horror of her fading young life all by herself. Then she too faded away into oblivion.


That was really creative! Thank you for another wonderful story!


This is a rewrite of the first story I posted online, like 10 years ago. Hope you like it.

The Hitchhiker

It had been a great day so far for Julie Huerta. It was a Friday, she had felt very comfortable with her Physics exam in sixth period, she had crushed it in basketball practice, and Vinny had finally found the balls to talk to her. That conversation had been both intriguing and stimulating to say the least, and they had tentatively set up a date for this weekend.

To top it all off, it was snowing. While snow was an annoyance for some, for kids in the New Mexico desert it was a rare treat. Julie wasn’t exactly a kid, but she wasn’t too old to build a snowman or smack her brother in the face with a snowball, and if her luck held, the snowfall would continue all night and into the morning. When Cyndi Lauper began to belt out Girls Just Wanna Have Fun from the car radio, Julie couldn't help but sing along. Unfortunately it seemed not everyone was having as great a time as she was.

Through the shifting veil of snow shuffled the muddled shape of a man. As Julie approached the figure this man's terrible misfortune became painfully more apparent. Wrapped tightly around his body was a light wind-breaker; the type of garment better suited for a stroll through the park on a sunny autumn day. It offered very little protection against the frigid air on an unforgiving day like today. The man's chin was tucked tightly against his chest, his arms hugging his body, in an effort to preserve what little body heat he might still be retaining. Narrow legs clothed in thin slacks and capped with leather loafers trudged stubbornly through drifts of snow alongside the road.

Julie's heart went out to the man. She could not remember passing one single vehicle since she had piloted her yellow VW Beetle onto this barren stretch of pavement. Realizing that they were still at least ten miles from town, she pulled onto the shoulder. It was the only humane thing to do. Watching in her rear view mirror, she saw the man's face light up as he hustled to her passenger door. She leaned over and yanked the handle, popping the door open. A cold blast of air rushed over her, instantly dropping the temperature inside the bug ten degrees or more.

There, outside her vehicle in the wintry air, stood a strikingly handsome, clean shaven man who appeared to be in his early thirties. A sheepish grin shown from his windblown, cherry red face. Dark, guarded eyes peered up at her as she studied his wonderfully symmetrical features.

An overwhelming impulse to stomp on the gas pedal, peel out of there, and never look back washed over Julie, but she quickly shook it off. That was nuts. She couldn't drive off and leave this poor man standing here like this.

"Need a lift," Julie asked coolly.

The man said nothing, but he climbed into the car with liquid speed and agility.

"It's fucking cold out there, huh?" Julie offered. The man smiled. Julie was still not completely comfortable cursing in the presence of adults and it pleased her that this man was not put off by her use of the 'f' word.

Beaming at her own maturity, Julie extended her hand. "My name's Julie." The man looked at her hand for a moment before seizing it with his own sturdy grip. His hands were deathly cold from the icy weather outside.

"You're very beautiful, Julie," the man told her. It was true, Julie was amazing. Every inch, every curve of her soft, young, athletic body was perfectly proportioned to her five foot six, one-hundred thirty pound frame. Rich, shoulder-length, chocolate-colored hair spilled down around her high cheek bones and squared jaw, while her lush lips, sparkling blue eyes, square chin, and celestial nose completed the most stunning face to ever grace man’s existence. Her flawless body was wrapped in a fair, pink skin so smoothly complected it might have been stolen from a new born’s ass. Much of that skin was presently on display, as she had swapped her shorts for sweats but opted to remain in her practice top, a sleeveless half shirt with the number thirty-four printed on it, which meant her belly and shoulders were bare despite the freezing temperatures. It was impossible to even imagine such beauty, but something about this man’s comment struck Julie as odd.

Perhaps it was the way he said it, with a hint of regret and sadness. As Julie tried to pin down what exactly was off, the man released her hand and produced a Heckler & Koch HK45 from the confines of his jacket. He moved in the same smooth, fluid motion he had used to climb aboard Julie's ride.

No stranger to deftness and dexterity, Julie averaged nearly three steals a game her sophomore year. Her hands moved lightning quick, but she had just managed to grab the barrel of the gun and only slightly alter the angle in which it was pointed before flames flashed, a deafening boom filled the car, and Julie cried out in surprise.

Warm pressure began to build in her guts and she tasted metal in the back of her throat. A thousand thoughts raced in her mind at once - the most prominent one being, [i]Am I going to die?[/i] It just didn't seem possible. It all seemed so surreal, like a bad dream. As she sought to solidify her grip on the gun, it bucked in her hands again and she felt the pressure in her abdomen swell to something greater.

[i]I've gotta stop the slide,[/i] she thought, and when the gun went off a third time she succeeded. More lead smacked violently into her belly and ripped through her bowels, but the slide was held in the back position, unable to chamber a new round. Julie kept her right hand firmly in place and brought her left thumb up into the handsome bastard's eye. She had the satisfaction of hearing him scream before his left fist clouted her in the side of the head.

It took a second to shake out the cobwebs, and when she regained her senses the hitchhiker was rubbing his eye and recklessly waving his weapon at her. She flinched back against the door as another shot boomed, and she felt the impact in her right shoulder.

[i]So much for stealing his gun.[/i]

She decided that she had to get out of there; she had to get out of the bug and away from this man. As she turned to open her door she saw that the bullets had passed clean through her body. Her blood was splashed across the handle of the driver's side door and she could see a couple of holes in the paneling. She pushed open the door and gingerly stepped out into the snow.

Another booming shot rang out behind her. The slug entered the small of her back, furrowed through her intestines, exited her belly, and careened off the pavement on the other side of the road. She squawked and stumbled to the ground as more of her blood sprayed from her body.

Julie struggled awkwardly to get back to her feet while clutching the numerous holes in her midriff. There was a tight trio of entry wounds around her navel - left, right, and above - and an exit wound nearly the size of a fifty cent piece farther off in the left side of her gut. Blood was pouring over her hands and between her knuckles. The taste of it filled her mouth and she spat red. Leaning against the car for support, she managed to stand.

[i]Am I dying?[/i] she wondered. [i]Am I really dying?[/i]

With her tiny hands splayed across her tummy, Julie tried to run. Normally she was one of the fastest girls on the basketball team, but while there was nothing wrong with her legs, the fire in her belly made her ungainly and the most she could achieve was a graceless lumber. She was around ten yards beyond the rear bumper when she heard the crack of another gunshot behind her.

Her right leg went stiff as a bullet punched through her thigh. Another shot quickly followed, and Julie caught it with her perfectly rounded right butt cheek. An exit wound exploded in her hip, severely hobbling the beautiful teen, but she continued to limp forward, desperate to outrun her fate. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed the bastard had gotten out of her car and was now pointing his pistol at her.

"No no no no no no no no no," Julie muttered in a panicky little voice. The hitchhiker clearly had no intention of letting her escape. This was so fucking bad.

Another pair of gunshots rang out in the quiet desert air, and both rounds found their mark in Julie's lower back and punched fresh holes in her midriff. A gurgling sound escaped her throat and she sank to her knees. Her eyes grew wide with disbelief as she examined the latest exit wounds in her belly. The two holes were a couple inches right of her navel, one just above the other, spilling alarming amounts of blood down the front of her sweat pants. Spurts jettisoned from her wounds in rhythm with her heartbeat and landed steaming in the snow before her. She kept both palms pressed against her belly, but it did little to slow the bleeding. Her guts burned with intense discomfort.

"Ah fuck!" Julie squealed, her voice rising shrilly in terror. Another slug ripped through her, spraying more of her precious blood from just beneath her right breast. Her back arched as the bullet pierced her body, then she twisted and fell forward, pressing her right hand against the ground to support herself. She coughed up more blood and swiped the drips from her lips with her free hand.

"Oh Gawd," she muttered miserably. The pain was terrible, but it was better than feeling nothing at all. She began to straighten her back and try to get her feet back under her when she was shot again, this bullet catching her in the back of her left shoulder and tearing through the tender flesh below her collar bone. She cried out and spun with the force of the shot, ending up with her back in the snow and her legs twisted beneath her.

Her killer was now quickly approaching, swapping an empty click for a fresh one he had found inside his jacket. She turned her stunning blue eyes upon herself, dismayed to see what had become of her healthy, young, seventeen-year-old body. All of her wounds were bleeding profusely. Her white top and gray sweats were soaked. The snow beneath her was stained an ugly red.

"Oh God, lookit me," Julie moaned. Her eyes widened as the man pulled back the slide and chambered a fresh round. "Oh shit," she mumbled.

Her tennis shoes scuffed at the snow as she tried to scoot backwards, desperate to get away from this psycho and his gun, when he plugged her high in the abdomen. The bullet smashed into the soft flesh beneath her sternum, pummeled the tissue and organs housed there, chipped off a piece of her spine, and exited the center of her back. She coughed up another mouthful of blood and grunted in agony.

"Fuck, you fucking bastard," she gasped, a split second before the bastard shot her in the chest. The bullet left a hole in the top of the three over her right breast, and it also must have punctured a lung, because Julie suddenly found it increasingly difficult to breathe.

Still intent on resisting her fate, her animal instincts still locked in the flight of survival, she sighed tiredly, flipped onto her knees and elbows and began to scuttle away from her Beetle and her killer.

She managed to cover maybe three or four feet of ground before she was shot for the fourteenth time. The bullet chewed into her back and left an exit wound the size of a sand dollar where her left nipple used to be. Her plight was becoming grimmer by the second. Blood spewed from her lips, she muttered, “Oh fuck,” and she dragged her dying body forward another foot or two.

The gun barked for the fifteenth time that day, and Julie felt her left shoulder pulverized and smashed by hot lead. Her arms gave out and her face ended up in the snow, but she continued trying to pull herself forward. She was still struggling to find her grip when the handsome hitchhiker’s boot nuzzled against her ribs and flipped her onto her back.

Her bewitching blue eyes blinked against the snow, staring up into the barrel of a gun. [i]Is this it? Is he gonna blow my head off now?[/i] Her brows arched and her perfect face grimaced in terror, and she begged for mercy, “Please. Please no.”

The man hesitated, the gun wavering ever so slightly, and then he exhaled heavily. “I’m sorry, Julie.” He knelt beside her and began rummaging through the pockets of her sweat pants. All he found was her Samsung flip phone and her lip gloss. “A flip phone?!” He seemed insulted.

Julie tried to answer him, but she spit up blood instead. If she had been able to speak, she’d have told him he sounded like her friends. Everyone was always busting her chops for it ([i]Who are you calling, Julie? 2005?[/i]), but her parents weren’t well off, and she didn’t need to be on Twitter and Instagram all the time like the other girls in her school.

“Don’t you have a wallet?”

Julie gurgled and coughed and let a torrent of blood spill from the corners of her mouth before she replied, “It’s on the dash. I think there’s like thirteen bucks in there.” She was amazed at the tranquility and steadiness in her voice. It sounded as if they were discussing the weekend weather forecast over a cup of tea, even though in Julie’s mind she was desperately throwing water out of a sinking ship.

“Thirteen dollars? You bitch! You stupid fucking cunt!” The bastard kicked her in the jaw.

“I wanted to help you,” Julie protested.

“Help me?” the man asked, and he punctuated his question by shooting Julie in her perky right tit, inside the upper arc of the three this time.

“Oof,” Julie grunted.

“Do you have twenty-thousand dollars somewhere? Because that would fucking help me.” He shot her again, in the lower curve of her right breast, near the middle tip of the three.

It was then that Julie understood that she was dying for nothing. This man was in debt to some dangerous people, and he would not be able to pay them back. Despite the fact that he was killing her, it was easy to empathize with his situation. After all, he was just trying to survive, and as she lay there staring death in the face, she knew what that was like.

“Take my car,” she told him. She lifted her head to look at her bullet-riddled body before adding, “I’m not gonna need it anymore.”

“That piece of shit isn’t worth five hundred dollars, and now it’s full of blood and bullet holes. Nobody will buy it.”

Julie loved that car. Her parents had bought it for her on her sixteenth birthday, and it cost them countless hours of overtime and working weekends. It was a representation of their devotion to her, so hearing this man call it a piece of shit stung her. She laid her head back in the snow, licked the blood from her lips, and rolled her sparkling blue eyes. “Well, I guess you killed me for thirteen bucks then.”

“Hardly even worth the ammo I spent on you.” The man seemed to consider putting one more round in her, and Julie wondered if she’d feel the bullet caving in her forehead or if everything would just suddenly come to an end before she even realized it. In the end the man just took a deep breath and said, “I’m sorry, Julie. You shouldn’t have stopped.” Then he turned and left her for dead.

She heard the door to her bug slam shut and raised her head just enough to see her beloved yellow VW Beetle disappear into the snow. [i]I shouldn't have stopped,[/i] she thought. [i]Oh God, what I wouldn't do to rewind the clock by two minutes and just not stop.[/i] Sadly, there were no second chances this time, and she understood with absolute certainty that this is where she would die.

Her mind returned to the conversation she had with Vinny that morning. Ironically, they had discussed how fleeting life can be, and how important it is to cherish every moment. In hindsight, it seemed almost prescient.

Vinny had told her that the average life span was around eighty years, which meant they only got eighty springs, eighty summers, eighty autumns, eighty winters, eighty birthdays. [i]I want so badly to have eighty birthdays.[/i] He had been watching a video on YouTube, a Ted Talk maybe, and it had inspired him. It was what motivated him to finally tell her how he felt. He told her that she gave him hope, that the world was a little brighter because it had people like her in it, that she made him feel so many things at once it was overwhelming.

They had both agreed to live in the moment and to stop stressing over petty, insignificant things that wouldn't make a difference in the end. Still, no matter how stirring that discussion had been and how much weight she had given Vinny's words, she never imagined that this would be that end; that she wouldn't even live to see another sunset.

For some reason her killer had left her flip phone in the snow beside her. It was probably the same reason he had shot her seventeen times without managing to hit her heart even once - he wasn't cut out for this sort of thing. The reason didn't really matter though, it fell into the category of insignificant things that wouldn't make a difference in the end. What mattered was the phone was here, and she intended to use it.

There was no point in calling nine-one-one. They couldn't save her and she didn't want to spend her last moments talking to a stranger. Her parents would both be at work and wouldn't be able to answer her call, so she recalled the number Vinny had given her that morning and dialed it.

As the phone rang she considered how amazing a simple thing like a memory was. It was something she always took for granted, but there was so much information and experience and emotion in her memories, and soon it would all be gone. All of it lost forever, as she would cease to exist. It was a devastating thought.

"Hello?" It was Vinny's voice, made distorted and metallic by technology, but Vinny nonetheless.

"Vinny, I'm dying."

"What?! Is this Julie?"

"Yep. I…" A convulsion overtook her mid-sentence, but once she got it under control she continued, "I’m fucking bleeding to death."

"Julie, that’s not funny. Don't even play like that."

"I'm dead serious," and Julie chortled at the unintentional pun.

"You’re not fucking with me?"

“I wish I was.” There was a moment of silence from Vinny’s side of the connection, and Julie tried to imagine what he must be thinking. It had to be a mind-blowing call to receive.

“Julie, you gotta hang in there. Where are you?”

“Lying on the side of the road like fucking road kill.”

“Did you call an ambulance?”

“Vinny, I’m fucked. They’d never make it in time.”

“Is it really that bad? What happened?”

“I got shot to fucking shit. A bullet for every year of my life. My stomach looks like swiss fucking cheese." Julie lifted her head again to look at herself, as if to reaffirm what she was saying. A part of her was still in disbelief.

“You got shot? Who shot you?”

“Just some guy. Doesn’t matter. Don’t sweat the small stuff, remember? I didn’t call you to talk about him.”

“It’s not small stuff, Julie. He shot you.”

“Yeah, seventeen fucking times. I don’t want vengeance or justice or any of that bullshit. What I really want is to live, but… that’s not happening. Listen…” Julie felt the world fading, and she forgot what she was saying. All she could think about was the crushing finality of it all.


Vinny’s metallic voice was in another world as despair took hold of her. [i]This is it. This is really it. There’s nothing left.[/i] A snowflake landed in her eye, and she blinked at the tears spilling down her temples. [i]It’s so beautiful.[/i] She was staring up at the wintry sky - a blanket of gray dotted with floating white flakes. [i]I won’t get to play in the snow. I won’t be able to enjoy this beauty ever again.[/i]


It was that voice again, from somewhere far away. She remembered the boy she had called. The boy with whom she had connected earlier that day. It was too late. It wasn’t fair. Everything was being taken from her.

“Julie, are you there?!” Vinny’s voice was loud and panicked.

Julie’s response was soft and trembling with emotion, but she still sounded remarkably calm. “Yes. You were right. Life is too short. Way too short…” She had wanted to tell him something, but what? Did it even matter? Does anything matter when you’re dead? “You should…” Julie licked her lips and summoned all her strength. “You should have asked me out years ago. Don’t make that mistake again. Don’t… keep things inside.”

“Julie, I’m sorry.” He was crying. “Please don’t die.”

“I don’t want to…” It was the last thing she said. Her words trailed off, but she still clung stubbornly to her life, struggling mightily to fill her ruined lungs again and again.

It took several minutes for her to finally bleed out, and she suffered immensely. Vinny remained on the phone, calling out to her every few seconds, but she could no longer respond. She made choked gurgling sounds often enough for him to know she was still there, but it was not an attempt to communicate. Vinny and her phone were forgotten. All her efforts were focused on the continuation of her existence.

[i]I wanted to help. This is how my kindness was repaid. I can’t believe this shit.[/i] It was her last coherent thought before her consciousness descended into delirium. Soon after, her jaw wrenched in agony, her perfect, full lips parted, as she finally fell back into her death throes. Her back arched and her blood-stained tennis shoes dug at the snow. This went on for close to ten seconds. Then Julie lay still. She was dead at last. It was a terrible death that no one could possibly deserve, especially one as young, innocent, and naïve as Julie.


Ah, I remember that one from a long time ago. Indeed, I think it was the first story I read by you.
Really cool to see it remade / reapproached like this.
Am I right in assuming the mahor difference is the whole wallet / phone call scenes?
At least I don't recall those. Maybe she got shot more times? I think it was 17, though.. it IS Julie after all, I wouldn't be surprised to see her still somehow managing to walk after 30 shots, haha! That's just how she goes… her stubbornness and determination knows no equal. That's why she's so great for these stories. :-)

Forgive me if I'm not remembering details of the original story, it's been a long time since I read it.


Yeah, in the original version it was just a serial killer that she picked up, and she was shot 18 times instead of 17. Also, it was a .357 revolver used in the original (reloaded twice to total 18 shots), and there was no phone call at the end. She just laid there and bled out while her killer watched.


I would love to get together on chat or email to discuss our fantasies. Mine are nearly identical to yours.


I would love to meet up and talk on chat or email about your stories. I’ve written a few myself and our interests are nearly identical.



I noticed that the old [i] doesn’t italicize text anymore. Does anybody know how it’s done now?



Yes. Put the text between pairs of 2 single quotation marks.

like this

For bold use 3 single quotation marks on each side:

like this

Hope that makes it clear. I don't know how to show it without it doing it's thing.


BTW, big fan of your writings. I love the detail you put into making cuties die a slow death. Looking forward to the next one!


Thanks, Squunch!


I’m glad you’re enjoying my stuff. I saw some of your posts on the hard core thread, and those are some cool images. If I ever get around to writing it, I’ve got a Jurassic Park type scenario in mind for Julie that would probably be right up your alley.

Bellystabber, feel free to email me, but I don’t talk much online. If you want to share stories or ideas for stories with me, I’m open to it.



Ah - don't use the 66-99 type quotes, just use these apostrophes ( ' )

Dino Vore would be cool, tbh I've enjoyed all your stuff so far. The one with the lizards might be my favourite.



Reminds me there's a nice gory dino story "Massacre" here:

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