-
Sign up or login, and you'll have full access to opportunities of forum.
BARB’S DYSTOPIAN DOLCETTISH DEMISE
- Thread starter Barbaria1
- Start date
Servus Venandi
Magistrate
I'm caught up after getting a few pages behind, and I've cracked up several times in the reading. Among other things, this dystopian tale is genuinely funny.
"Jack Poleson"
"Jack Poleson"
Welcome to the Cruxforums. We like a bit of humour with our eroticism, dystopia and torture.
Electrocution and hanging, an odd combination.
All this, and the poor man is still judged by the size of his member. I thought size didn't matter?
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
Well, DUH! Cheerleaders are there to stimulate
Girl's Lie!
Wow!!! Sensational art! You’ve captured the scene exactly as I imagined it when I wrote the text! Bravo!
I'm caught up after getting a few pages behind, and I've cracked up several times in the reading. Among other things, this dystopian tale is genuinely funny.
"Jack Poleson"
So pleased to know the embedded humor is appreciated. Thanks for saying.
M
montycrusto
Guest
“Humor”? You mean, some of this isn’t entirely true??So pleased to know the embedded humor is appreciated. Thanks for saying.
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Roasted!
Before there were the two who got killed during the riot, in their burning vehicle!
FNPA is becoming self-sustaining!
twonines
LIMERICUS
Not just the humour that is appreciated.So pleased to know the embedded humor is appreciated. Thanks for saying.
Taking the skin off Barb`s tight little is par for the course but the trend to cause internal damage to her girly bits is a bit disturbing, although its relatively minor in the context of this story I suppose.
M
montycrusto
Guest
Way too technical for me, there, doc. We didn’t all go to medical college you know
18.
Fully conscious, Paul Montague, was filled with self-loathing and remorse. He was lying on his back, stretched out on the cold metal surface of an infirmary gurney, staring up at the overhead lighting. Beside him, lying on her side and facing him with one leg half thrown over his legs, was Rose Whitaker. She was unconscious. Both were naked. Both had severed rope nooses around their throats.
Paul was vaguely aware of the frenzied activity taking place around the infirmary, of the moans and cries of the many wounded, the shouts and curses of the overwhelmed infirmary staff.
He vaguely remembered, or at least thought he remembered, having seen earlier a naked Barbara Moore being hustled past his gurney by a pair of stern-faced matrons. Was he hallucinating? Was it his mind replaying, in this time of distress, old daydreams in which he would lie in bed and try to imagine and jerk off over what Barbara might look like in the nude?
And then there was the presence of Rose Whitaker’s lovely nude body, sharing with him the limited surface space of the gurney. Had he died and gone to heaven?
No, he knew she was real enough and that he and she were alive ... and that’s where the self-loathing and remorse set in. The uncomfortable truth was that he had failed miserably ... failed in his attempt to organize and lead an effective peaceful protest on the front lawn of the Moore residence on the day of Barb’s FNPA recruitment ... failed in his attempt to instill an effective spirit of symbolic defiance among his fellow condemned on the eve of their mass execution ... and, most galling of all, he had apparently somehow failed to die as a martyr to the cause! He was alive, while others had died.
And now his brain was adding insult to injury by playing on his romantic and sexual fantasies and failures ... hallucinations of a naked Barbara Moore, whom he adored from afar, but never marshaled the courage to ask her out ... the temptation to take advantage of the moment and reach over to fondle Ms. Whitaker’s gorgeous bare breasts ... a fleeting flashback memory of his embarrassing failure to properly fuck that idiot cheerleader, Kristin Magruder, when she was begging for it ... a disagreeable image of the face of his personal nemesis, Joey Farnsworth, pointing and laughing at him.
A moan and movement at his side broke his rather unpleasant reverie. Ms. Whitaker had stirred and thrown her arm around him, pressing the warm soft flesh of her body against his. He felt himself react ... there was that unmistakable stirring in his loins, encouraged further by the tactile sensation of her sweet little trimmed bush brushing against his hipbone.
He found himself overwhelmed by the many reactive thoughts that exploded nearly simultaneously in his brain ... caution, amazement, curiosity, lust, desire. Paul felt uncertain and confused, not knowing what to do ... but then ... throwing caution to the wind, he muttered, “What the hell,” and turned his body to meet and engage hers.
*********
Across the infirmary, Dr. Martin Quackery, was mopping his brow after performing emergency ‘meatball’ surgery to remove a massive splinter from the gut of an FNPA Officer.
Turning to his nurse, who was totally untrained for emergency triage, he wearily asked for the next case. A FNPA guard with multiple severe head injuries was wheeled in front of him. He took one look at the damage and shook his head regretfully.
“Nothing I can do for the poor bastard. Sorry. Take him away and bring me the next one.”
“That’s it. You’ve seen them all.”
“Okay, we’ve done our best. When are the Evac Choppers coming?”
“Soon. They’re on their way.”
“Good ... oh! ... what about those two condemned prisoners they brought in? The ones they found alive under the wreckage? Skinny, weird kid and a young woman, I believe?”
“Over there, on the spare gurney,” she replied, gesturing towards the far side of the infirmary.
“And the one who was accidentally injured on a Jessica ... what was her name? Moore?”
“Sent back to her barrack.”
“Okay, good. What say we go over and have a look at those two who cheated the hangman?”
“Ummmm ... take a good look first.”
“What the fuck are they doing, nurse?”
“Ummmm ... they appear to be doing exactly that ... or maybe it would be more accurate to say that the skinny kid is doing it to her. See how he has flipped her on her backside and has mounted her? But look, she’s conscious and is not exactly resisting either. See how she keeps moving one hand up and down his backside, and moves her hips with his thrusts? On the other hand, she may not really know what she is doing because she has that strange far off look in her eyes.”
“In any case, the kid is really going to town on her, isn’t he? That old gurney is shaking and rattling like there’s no tomorrow. Looks so strange, doesn’t it, to see a pair copulating like that with nooses around their necks?”
“I suppose in their situation, anyone might ... ummm ... I’d rather not finish that thought, doctor, if you know what I mean.”
“It’s one for the books, alright. Send someone ... one of the orderlies ... over there to break that up before they break the gurney, will you please? I’m going to the canteen for some coffee, something to eat, and a much needed sit down. Join me, when you can, nurse.”
“Yessir.”
TO BE CONTINUED
Fully conscious, Paul Montague, was filled with self-loathing and remorse. He was lying on his back, stretched out on the cold metal surface of an infirmary gurney, staring up at the overhead lighting. Beside him, lying on her side and facing him with one leg half thrown over his legs, was Rose Whitaker. She was unconscious. Both were naked. Both had severed rope nooses around their throats.
Paul was vaguely aware of the frenzied activity taking place around the infirmary, of the moans and cries of the many wounded, the shouts and curses of the overwhelmed infirmary staff.
He vaguely remembered, or at least thought he remembered, having seen earlier a naked Barbara Moore being hustled past his gurney by a pair of stern-faced matrons. Was he hallucinating? Was it his mind replaying, in this time of distress, old daydreams in which he would lie in bed and try to imagine and jerk off over what Barbara might look like in the nude?
And then there was the presence of Rose Whitaker’s lovely nude body, sharing with him the limited surface space of the gurney. Had he died and gone to heaven?
No, he knew she was real enough and that he and she were alive ... and that’s where the self-loathing and remorse set in. The uncomfortable truth was that he had failed miserably ... failed in his attempt to organize and lead an effective peaceful protest on the front lawn of the Moore residence on the day of Barb’s FNPA recruitment ... failed in his attempt to instill an effective spirit of symbolic defiance among his fellow condemned on the eve of their mass execution ... and, most galling of all, he had apparently somehow failed to die as a martyr to the cause! He was alive, while others had died.
And now his brain was adding insult to injury by playing on his romantic and sexual fantasies and failures ... hallucinations of a naked Barbara Moore, whom he adored from afar, but never marshaled the courage to ask her out ... the temptation to take advantage of the moment and reach over to fondle Ms. Whitaker’s gorgeous bare breasts ... a fleeting flashback memory of his embarrassing failure to properly fuck that idiot cheerleader, Kristin Magruder, when she was begging for it ... a disagreeable image of the face of his personal nemesis, Joey Farnsworth, pointing and laughing at him.
A moan and movement at his side broke his rather unpleasant reverie. Ms. Whitaker had stirred and thrown her arm around him, pressing the warm soft flesh of her body against his. He felt himself react ... there was that unmistakable stirring in his loins, encouraged further by the tactile sensation of her sweet little trimmed bush brushing against his hipbone.
He found himself overwhelmed by the many reactive thoughts that exploded nearly simultaneously in his brain ... caution, amazement, curiosity, lust, desire. Paul felt uncertain and confused, not knowing what to do ... but then ... throwing caution to the wind, he muttered, “What the hell,” and turned his body to meet and engage hers.
*********
Across the infirmary, Dr. Martin Quackery, was mopping his brow after performing emergency ‘meatball’ surgery to remove a massive splinter from the gut of an FNPA Officer.
Turning to his nurse, who was totally untrained for emergency triage, he wearily asked for the next case. A FNPA guard with multiple severe head injuries was wheeled in front of him. He took one look at the damage and shook his head regretfully.
“Nothing I can do for the poor bastard. Sorry. Take him away and bring me the next one.”
“That’s it. You’ve seen them all.”
“Okay, we’ve done our best. When are the Evac Choppers coming?”
“Soon. They’re on their way.”
“Good ... oh! ... what about those two condemned prisoners they brought in? The ones they found alive under the wreckage? Skinny, weird kid and a young woman, I believe?”
“Over there, on the spare gurney,” she replied, gesturing towards the far side of the infirmary.
“And the one who was accidentally injured on a Jessica ... what was her name? Moore?”
“Sent back to her barrack.”
“Okay, good. What say we go over and have a look at those two who cheated the hangman?”
“Ummmm ... take a good look first.”
“What the fuck are they doing, nurse?”
“Ummmm ... they appear to be doing exactly that ... or maybe it would be more accurate to say that the skinny kid is doing it to her. See how he has flipped her on her backside and has mounted her? But look, she’s conscious and is not exactly resisting either. See how she keeps moving one hand up and down his backside, and moves her hips with his thrusts? On the other hand, she may not really know what she is doing because she has that strange far off look in her eyes.”
“In any case, the kid is really going to town on her, isn’t he? That old gurney is shaking and rattling like there’s no tomorrow. Looks so strange, doesn’t it, to see a pair copulating like that with nooses around their necks?”
“I suppose in their situation, anyone might ... ummm ... I’d rather not finish that thought, doctor, if you know what I mean.”
“It’s one for the books, alright. Send someone ... one of the orderlies ... over there to break that up before they break the gurney, will you please? I’m going to the canteen for some coffee, something to eat, and a much needed sit down. Join me, when you can, nurse.”
“Yessir.”
TO BE CONTINUED
Last edited:
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
For Paul and Rose there is most likely no tomorrow!
M
montycrusto
Guest
Fellow of the Royal Society of Proleptic Nomenclature I presume..
Ah well, better than Doctor Killmore or Consultant Surgeon Mr. Struckov.
Migoz2
Senator
Dr Molesta,Fellow of the Royal Society of Proleptic Nomenclature I presume..
Praefectus Praetorio
R.I.P. Brother of the Quill
OK, Barb! How did you get ahold of my PRIVATE Diary??
Repeat! PRIVATE! That is just me daydreaming. How can you embarrass me this way???
When Paul was first introduced, I didn't like him much: smug, self-righteous, preachy. Now I feel some connection with the boy.
As a student of history, I'm sure Barb realizes that she has just set up a golden opportunity here. We've seen the first third (hanging short of death) of the great trifecta, Hanging, Drawing and Quartering. Will we see the rest?
Seriously, Barb, great chapter (even if partially plagiarized from my own PRIVATE writings about you).
19.
Colonel Ronald Grossmann, Chief Executive Officer of FNPA Goose River Center, crammed his corpulent body into his desk chair, leaned forward across his desk, steepled his pudgy fingers, and said wearily, “Look 5535, or ... what did you say your name was?”
“Sue McDonaugh ... just call me, Sue.”
“Well, yes ... ummm ... Sue ... as I was about to say, this is highly unusual. I mean, I don’t normally take the time to meet with any of the sows, and especially in the wee hours of the morning like this ...”
“And I appreciate your willingness to see me, Colonel ... may I call you Ronald?”
“Well, I’m listening only because my adjutant said you were so damned persistent ... it’s been a gruelingly difficult day, what with the lightning strike disaster and all. And as you might suspect I’m a very busy man and ...”
“Say, no more, Colonel ... I know ... you see, I have a keen eye and I am a natural organizer ... ask anyone who knows me, and they’ll tell you!”
“But ....”
“And I can see, Ronald, that you are in desperate need of help from someone with my skills.”
“What do you mean, 5435 ... er ... Sue?”
“I understand you are hosting the annual inspection tour of FNPA administrators, here at Goose River, day after tomorrow, am I right?”
“Well, yes ... how would you know that?”
“Let’s just say I keep my ear to the ground, and your matrons do talk a lot. But what I also am hearing is that ... with the lightning strike disaster, something like a hundred condemned protesters on death row and no way to stage a mass hanging, and with meat production stalled because so many of your people are dead or incapacitated ... you’re going to have to do something to keep your visiting delegation distracted and happy ... and you’ve had no time to put any thought to how ... am I right?”
“Well ... (sigh) ... that’s true.”
“Okay, then you’ll need my help!”
“Uh, how so? Normally we have them overnight. We put them up in our VIP Quarters, feed them a sampling of our most choice filets and cuts, give them a tour of the Center and its spitting and live roasting operation, and send them on their way.”
“And what will they see, Ronald? Think about it. Chaos, confusion, wreckage, and empty spits and pits ... it’s all going to reflect badly on you ... am I right?”
“Okay, well ... perhaps I can keep them isolated and entertained back at the VIP Quarters and forego the tour?”
“Good thinking, but have you considered how you will you keep them entertained?”
“Ummm ... I suppose I could coerce some of the sows to have sex with them?”
“Now, there’s the problem with your thinking, Ronald ... no girl wants to put out for a bunch of guys, who look like you, under coercion. No offense, but she needs incentive. And besides, you need girls who really know how to entertain ... pros not amateurs!”
“Perhaps, but how do I ....?”
“You’re in luck, Ronald ... because I have five friends here at Goose River who happen to be ex-cheerleaders!” she lied, adding proudly, “the very best of last year’s Hamilton and Grainger High cheerleading squads ... cream of the crop!”
“Cheerleaders, eh? Well I can see where they might be good at entertaining, but good at sex too?”
“They’re cheerleaders, Ronald! Of course they’re experienced at sex. Believe me, no one gets to be a cheerleader at Hamilton or Grainger High without knowing how to fuck and suck!”
“Okay, I take your point. Fine. I hereby order you and your five cheerleader friends to entertain and ... um ... service my guests, day after tomorrow!”
“Whoa! Not so fast. Remember what I said about coercion, Ronald? Do you happen to know what ‘quid pro quo’ means?”
“I’m not a complete idiot!”
“Well, good. You had me worried, there. So, here’s the deal, Ronald. In exchange for entertaining and servicing ... as you call it ... your visiting colleagues, you are going to set me and my five friends free. You are going to rescind our culling, and send us home ... alive, mind you ... not as packaged meat. Deal?”
“Alright, alright,” he lied.
“Agreed then. Here is what I’m going to need ... first of all, the release of me and my friends from work details tomorrow so we can get everything thing set and the girls can practice their routine.
“Ok, I‘ll need to jot down all six ID numbers so that I can inform the matrons.”
“Sure, numbers 5534 through 5539.”
“All together, eh? That’s convenient.”
“There’s more. I’ll need access to the VIP Quarters in order to get set up, and I’ll need your adjutant to get online and order five cheerleader outfits.”
“What size?”
“I don’t know. On the small end, I guess. The skimpier the better.”
“Check! Is that it?”
“For now, yes.”
“Good. I’ll have you escorted back to your barrack now. Pleasure doing business with you, Sue.”
“You won’t regret it, Ronald.”
**********
“Hey, everyone! Sue’s back!” whispered Kristin from her lower bunk, almost loudly enough to wake half the barrack.
“Hush!” hissed Sue.
“What’s happening?” queried one of the Graingers, sleepily.
“Gather around,” whispered Sue. “I’ve got news! I’ve just returned from a meeting with the Center’s chief exec, Colonel Grossmann.”
“How the fuck did you manage that?, snapped Barb. “It’s the middle of the night?”
“Do you want to hear my secret plan for getting us out of here, or not?”
“Ok, but this better be good.”
“Right, here’s the skinny. Day after tomorrow there’s a bunch of bigwigs coming in for an inspection of the Center. The big shot who runs this place is not the sharpest tool in the toolbox, and I managed to convince him that it would be in his interest to put me in charge of entertaining his guests.”
“Uh oh, I can see where this is going,” sighed Barb.
“But listen ... there’s a get out of jail free card here for all of us, Barb! You, me Kristin and the three Graingers.”
“And what do we have to do?”
“The five of you will put on a show for them, dressed as cheerleaders, and afterwards you’ll fuck and suck them till they drop.”
“I’ve a couple of questions about that.”
“Me too,” chimed in Kristin.
“Sure, let’s hear them.”
“Well, first of all, none of us ... other than Kristin ... know anything about cheerleading,” said Barb, wrinkling her nose to emphasize her revulsion at the idea of prancing around in a short skirt for a bunch of drooling old men.
“And I’m still a virgin,” moaned Kristin. “I really wouldn’t know what to do!”
“No problem. Got that covered. Kristin can teach Barb and the Graingers how to do some sexy cheerleading routines, and Barb ... who is reportedly well accomplished at such things ... can teach Kristin the fine points of fucking and sucking!”
TO BE CONTINUED
Colonel Ronald Grossmann, Chief Executive Officer of FNPA Goose River Center, crammed his corpulent body into his desk chair, leaned forward across his desk, steepled his pudgy fingers, and said wearily, “Look 5535, or ... what did you say your name was?”
“Sue McDonaugh ... just call me, Sue.”
“Well, yes ... ummm ... Sue ... as I was about to say, this is highly unusual. I mean, I don’t normally take the time to meet with any of the sows, and especially in the wee hours of the morning like this ...”
“And I appreciate your willingness to see me, Colonel ... may I call you Ronald?”
“Well, I’m listening only because my adjutant said you were so damned persistent ... it’s been a gruelingly difficult day, what with the lightning strike disaster and all. And as you might suspect I’m a very busy man and ...”
“Say, no more, Colonel ... I know ... you see, I have a keen eye and I am a natural organizer ... ask anyone who knows me, and they’ll tell you!”
“But ....”
“And I can see, Ronald, that you are in desperate need of help from someone with my skills.”
“What do you mean, 5435 ... er ... Sue?”
“I understand you are hosting the annual inspection tour of FNPA administrators, here at Goose River, day after tomorrow, am I right?”
“Well, yes ... how would you know that?”
“Let’s just say I keep my ear to the ground, and your matrons do talk a lot. But what I also am hearing is that ... with the lightning strike disaster, something like a hundred condemned protesters on death row and no way to stage a mass hanging, and with meat production stalled because so many of your people are dead or incapacitated ... you’re going to have to do something to keep your visiting delegation distracted and happy ... and you’ve had no time to put any thought to how ... am I right?”
“Well ... (sigh) ... that’s true.”
“Okay, then you’ll need my help!”
“Uh, how so? Normally we have them overnight. We put them up in our VIP Quarters, feed them a sampling of our most choice filets and cuts, give them a tour of the Center and its spitting and live roasting operation, and send them on their way.”
“And what will they see, Ronald? Think about it. Chaos, confusion, wreckage, and empty spits and pits ... it’s all going to reflect badly on you ... am I right?”
“Okay, well ... perhaps I can keep them isolated and entertained back at the VIP Quarters and forego the tour?”
“Good thinking, but have you considered how you will you keep them entertained?”
“Ummm ... I suppose I could coerce some of the sows to have sex with them?”
“Now, there’s the problem with your thinking, Ronald ... no girl wants to put out for a bunch of guys, who look like you, under coercion. No offense, but she needs incentive. And besides, you need girls who really know how to entertain ... pros not amateurs!”
“Perhaps, but how do I ....?”
“You’re in luck, Ronald ... because I have five friends here at Goose River who happen to be ex-cheerleaders!” she lied, adding proudly, “the very best of last year’s Hamilton and Grainger High cheerleading squads ... cream of the crop!”
“Cheerleaders, eh? Well I can see where they might be good at entertaining, but good at sex too?”
“They’re cheerleaders, Ronald! Of course they’re experienced at sex. Believe me, no one gets to be a cheerleader at Hamilton or Grainger High without knowing how to fuck and suck!”
“Okay, I take your point. Fine. I hereby order you and your five cheerleader friends to entertain and ... um ... service my guests, day after tomorrow!”
“Whoa! Not so fast. Remember what I said about coercion, Ronald? Do you happen to know what ‘quid pro quo’ means?”
“I’m not a complete idiot!”
“Well, good. You had me worried, there. So, here’s the deal, Ronald. In exchange for entertaining and servicing ... as you call it ... your visiting colleagues, you are going to set me and my five friends free. You are going to rescind our culling, and send us home ... alive, mind you ... not as packaged meat. Deal?”
“Alright, alright,” he lied.
“Agreed then. Here is what I’m going to need ... first of all, the release of me and my friends from work details tomorrow so we can get everything thing set and the girls can practice their routine.
“Ok, I‘ll need to jot down all six ID numbers so that I can inform the matrons.”
“Sure, numbers 5534 through 5539.”
“All together, eh? That’s convenient.”
“There’s more. I’ll need access to the VIP Quarters in order to get set up, and I’ll need your adjutant to get online and order five cheerleader outfits.”
“What size?”
“I don’t know. On the small end, I guess. The skimpier the better.”
“Check! Is that it?”
“For now, yes.”
“Good. I’ll have you escorted back to your barrack now. Pleasure doing business with you, Sue.”
“You won’t regret it, Ronald.”
**********
“Hey, everyone! Sue’s back!” whispered Kristin from her lower bunk, almost loudly enough to wake half the barrack.
“Hush!” hissed Sue.
“What’s happening?” queried one of the Graingers, sleepily.
“Gather around,” whispered Sue. “I’ve got news! I’ve just returned from a meeting with the Center’s chief exec, Colonel Grossmann.”
“How the fuck did you manage that?, snapped Barb. “It’s the middle of the night?”
“Do you want to hear my secret plan for getting us out of here, or not?”
“Ok, but this better be good.”
“Right, here’s the skinny. Day after tomorrow there’s a bunch of bigwigs coming in for an inspection of the Center. The big shot who runs this place is not the sharpest tool in the toolbox, and I managed to convince him that it would be in his interest to put me in charge of entertaining his guests.”
“Uh oh, I can see where this is going,” sighed Barb.
“But listen ... there’s a get out of jail free card here for all of us, Barb! You, me Kristin and the three Graingers.”
“And what do we have to do?”
“The five of you will put on a show for them, dressed as cheerleaders, and afterwards you’ll fuck and suck them till they drop.”
“I’ve a couple of questions about that.”
“Me too,” chimed in Kristin.
“Sure, let’s hear them.”
“Well, first of all, none of us ... other than Kristin ... know anything about cheerleading,” said Barb, wrinkling her nose to emphasize her revulsion at the idea of prancing around in a short skirt for a bunch of drooling old men.
“And I’m still a virgin,” moaned Kristin. “I really wouldn’t know what to do!”
“No problem. Got that covered. Kristin can teach Barb and the Graingers how to do some sexy cheerleading routines, and Barb ... who is reportedly well accomplished at such things ... can teach Kristin the fine points of fucking and sucking!”
TO BE CONTINUED
Last edited: