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<pre>
All you minors, stop reading now, we can't have you reading anything
offensive to the community (so, please, stay away from the 
Congressional Record).


The following is fiction.  It concerns some very cruel, nonconsensual
events, which I would say were evil.  It has no relation to any
real events, or to the real life practices of those who do what we
do (who do not do the sort of things depicted below).  Please do
not read it if you do not wish to read of evil acts, and please do
not read on if you do not understand the difference between fiction 
and reality, or between depicting something and advocating it.

And please do take this warning seriously.  This is real sicfic for
sickphuxs, don't read further if you don't want to see such.












Still here, eh ?  Well, remember, you were warned.









****************************************************************
Family Gathering

My target was a woman whose constant involvement with her large, close
family made it effectively impossible to isolate her for capture.
After a time, my impatience got the better of me, and I decided that
if she wanted always to be with her family, who was I to object ?

That Sunday, there was a family gathering at her parents' home, which
happened to be in the country, nicely distanced from neighbors and
obscured from main roads by trees.  It also happened that they had a
large inground pool, unused since the kids moved away and therefore
empty, of the type that sloped from a shallow end to a deep end.
As she she was one of five thirty-something sisters (her family tended
towards daughters, conveniently), besides her parents and husband
and her children there'd be her four sisters and their husbands and
children, and, oh, yes, her best friend who she'd known all her life,
so about thirty people would be there.  So I needed some help, and
recruited a couple people to help rob a bunch of rich people at a
barbecue, and acquired a few fully automatic rifles with fifty round
clips and lots of rope and tape.  I already had a nice assortment of
knives.

We waited in the woods that kept their house so nice and private (who
needs neighbors knowing their business) for everyone to assemble
after Sunday services, and then for lunch to be ready.  Being an
orderly lot, they assembled at closely placed picnic tables in the
back yard for a nice sit down lunch, all of them in a nice compact
group, and as they were coming togther, my confederates and I were
working ourselves into a triangle surrounding them, and as the
grandfather rose to say grace, I took aim at a nice watermellon,
and as he said "for what we are about to receive, oh Lord, let us
be truly thankful", I shouted "Amen !" and squeezed off a burst which
made the watermellon explode, spewing a red, pulpy, mess over a number
of nice, clean shirts (it was a casual gathering, but well-dressed
casual) as my confederates appeared, firing bursts in the air.

"OK, all you nice rich people", I shouted, "get on the ground, face down,
hands behind your heads, and if no one moves or makes a sound, no one
gets hurt.  But if anyone twitchs, every fucking one of you is dead.
Oh, and before you fold your hands nice and neat on your heads, use them
to put your purses, wallets, watches, and *ALL* your jewelry - wedding
rings included, ladies, if you can't get them off we have knives that
will - in an orderly pile in front of you.  NOW, YOU MOTHERFUCKERS !".

One hates to be crude, but the obscenity is expected of a thug.

Well, good caring people that they were, they weren't about to take a
chance on anyone getting hurt, so they did as they were told, and while
I kept a watch on them, firing a couple shots into the dirt near the
heads of some impetuous teenagers who dared raise them, my confederates
took sacks and gathered up the piles of plunder that had been set out;
a couple women carefully folded their hands to conceal the rings they
couldn't bring themselves to remove.  Touching.  Not a problem for me,
though if my confederates had noticed now it might have complicated
things.  Fortunately, they didn't.

"OK, rich people, now that we've got the loot" - what a cliche, but
I needed to play the part for a little longer - "we're going to tie
you up so no one makes any calls for a while after we leave.  Everyone
just cooperate and no one will get hurt".  I really managed to say
that without laughing, I must be getting good at this.

So now my confederates start to tie and tape our hosts.  They noticed
a few rings, but I just told them to tie everyone up and we'd come
back for the rings, "After we get some soap to help get them off
the ladies' fingers".  Everything went so nicely, and soon there
were thirty bound people on the lawn, tied up by just three (well,
two tying and one supervising).  Still, with these weapons, thirty
people could be killed in seconds, so it wasn't a bad decision to
cooperate.  Just a wrong one.

To make things look good, I told the others to go look through
the house for "cash and carriables" - light, valuable stuff -
while I kept an eye on the family.  A pleasant task.  Handsome
bunch, so many pretty legs and shapely derrierres displayed by
shorts, so many nice figures not quite concealed by loose sport
shirts, so much luxurious, well kept hair.  It'd have been so nice
to see the frightened faces of all those women, but they were dutiful
keeping their faces down.  It'd be more fun if they were struggling
with their bonds, but aside from an occasional tug or squirm, probably
more a reaction to fear and frustration than anything else, they were
keeping still.  But that was OK.  I'd have a chance to see their faces
later, and there'd be plenty of struggling and squirming.

"OK, now pick 'em up and put in the pool", I said.

"What ?"

"We don't want anyone to see all these people tied up on the lawn".

"Who's gonna see 'em ?  What's the matter with you, are you crazy ?"

"Yes", I replied, fingering my rifle (but not my gun, that would come
later).  At that, my accomplices decide to humor me, and started carrying
people into the pool.  Having conveniently picked up their weapons
while the people were being bound (since the weapons got in the way
while tying and taping, and we didn't want anyone getting stupid and
grabbing for a poorly held gun), it did seem to them better not to
test the veracity of my self-analysis.

Finally they had all the people in the pool.

"Are we done here ?"
"Let's get out of here !"

"Yes, we are, and yes, I think it's time for you to leave", I replied,
and fired a burst into each of them, sending their bodies back into
the pool, tumbling down the incline, the blood of their multiple wounds
squirting over the nice clean outfits of the now screaming and squirming
mass of helpless people in the pool.  I took a chair and some rope
and walked into the pool, stepping over the women and kicking aside the
men, till I found my Target, and pulled her up and dragged both her and
the chair to the bottom of the pool, where I tied her to the chair and
sat her facing her family.

Pulling her head back by the hair, I took a long look at her frightened
face, and told her, "This is all for you, darling", then strode back out
of the pool to collect my belt, the one with the assorted knives and tools,
and a couple clubs and the .22 automatic.  Returning, I stood before the
shallow end of the pool for a long moment before slowly drawing the
machete and stepping into the pool.  Grasping the hair of one of Target's
nephews who lay near the edge of the pool, I lifted him into a kneeling
position, and struck off his head, sending it tumbling over the bodies
to come to rest a few feet from his aunt.  I was hoping for it to roll
to her feet, but it took a funny bounce off his grandmother.  I gave the
torso a push with my foot so the blood pouring from his neck turned a
screaming blonde cousin into a redhead.

Next order of business was to reduce the chance that anyone would interfer
with my fun, so I walked around the pool, club in hand, smashing the
elbows of everyone but Target, and the knees of all the males.  A couple
of the women seemed to be in shock, the party-poopers.  Still, they
could be useful.  Drawing the pistol, I emptied a full magazine into one
girl's pale, still face, obliterating her fine features and spewing blood,
bone, and brains all over, producing more impassioned screaming and
struggling from the others.  Slipping in a fresh clip, I holstered the
pistol and proceeded with business.

Drawing a long, sharp knife, I walked back and forth through the family,
cutting them all in various ways, usually deep cuts, but trying to
avoid severing major blood vessels for the moment.  It wasn't time to
die yet.  Well, actually it was for a couple of them whose arteries 
I inadvertently nicked, so I went hog wild on them, slashing everything
that would pour blood so as to drain all I could from them.  One of 
Target's nieces had such nice long hair, so I scalped her alive and 
walked down to put the whig on Target.  By the time I get back to the 
top of the pool she'd shaken it off her head, but that was OK.

One of the uncles at the top of the pool was surprisingly quiet when
his joints were busted and his face and chest slashed.  This man seemed
to be determined to show me his balls, and I figured it was good for
the rest to see what guts he had, so I stuck the knife into his
pants and hacked around for a time, then reached in and yanked out his
testicles.  They seemed ordinary enough to me.  But then, he did scream,
rather disappointingly, as they were removed.  Perhaps his guts would
prove more interesting.  Slashing his abdomen, I reached in and extracted
some intestine.  It looked ordinary enough to me, but I felt perhaps
I needed to examine more of it, so I pulled some more out and placed it
on the grass before the pool, then plunged a couple knives through it
to keep it in place.  Then I gave him a push and started his body
rolling. I had to keep pushing to get him to the bottom, but soon he
was there and I had plenty of his guts to examine; as did lot's of those
people who had his intestines draped over them.

This had been a lot of fun, but the day was growing late, and it was
time for the last act of this play.  So as I moved among the family
for the last time, taking my leave of them, I slashed the leg bonds
and pulled down the pants and shorts and skirts to thrust gloved hands
and latex sheaved penis (I wouldn't be so irresponsible as to practice
unsafe sex) into various non-biting orifices.  Not staying to do anything,
just my way of saying "nice to get to know you", before I popped out or
punctured eyes, demonstrated that digits need not remain integral,
butchered breasts, salami sliced penii and clipped off clits, acts which
preceded the hacking off of hands and heads and sometimes the extraction
of hearts.

By the time I was done, I was covered head to toe in blood.   What
blood wasn't on me had been rolling downhill (along with some
heads and toes and some other stuff that rolls downhill), so Target's
high-heeled sandals were now soaking in a deepening pool of blood.
Not that she noticed just then, no more than she was aware of the vomit
on her peach blouse.  I pulled back her head and looked at her
tear-stained, deathly pale face.  Getting some color in her cheeks
was easy enough, I had plenty on my hands just then and easily smeared
some on her face.  Waking her up was a liitle harder, but slapping her
face was fun, and I'd brought smelling salts for such a likelihood.
When she woke up she started to cry again, which was nice, and I held
her head back by her hair and brought my blood-soaked visage close to
her pale, pretty face and stared down at her and watched her cry for a
few minutes.  That was delightful, but I hadn't world enough and time to
enjoy it as I wished I could, and needed to move on, and so I kissed her
face a few times, and returned to the program.   Ripping open her blouse,
and cutting off her bra, I grabbed her white breasts in my bloody hands
and squeezed and fondled them, then cut her free of the chair and pushed
her to her knees in the blood puddle, grabbing her bound hands and
levering them upwards to force her face into the blood before I pulled
down her white slacks and forced myself into her anus, her scream
reassuring me that as traumatized as she was she could still feel pain,
so when I cut her legs loose and spread them and thrust into her vagina
and reminded her that I'd been in the rectums and, where applicable,
vaginas of every man, woman, girl, and boy at this party (though not
everyone that I'd known had known it), and told her how I wished her
parents had owned a dog, she was able to understand the horror of it,
and her tears changed to shrieks and sobs.  For a few moments I couldn't
control her, maddened as she was, but some kidney punches slowed her down
enough for me to tape her legs and then hogtie her, and then kneel
astride her chest, her dark hair in the blood, parts of it floating in
the deepening pool, as I used one hand to keep her head in place with a
special fork I'd brought, and the other to masturbate myself to a massive
ejaculation (which didn't take long, considering the stimulus I'd had),
and got cum all over her face, then spread it around with my fingers,
being sure to get some over her eyes and lips and under her nose.

Then I turned her over, leaving her hogtied on her stomach in a blood
pool, and after shooting her through the balls of her raised feet with
the .22 and retrieving a rifle to fire a single round through both of
her knees, I piled corpses over her to be certain she couldn't squirm
away from where I'd positioned her, and left her to wait till shock
and blood loss and simple exhaustion brought her face down into the
dark pool.

When I came back from washing myself and cleaning up my tools in the
parents spacious bathroom and burning my clothes in their barbecue pit
and changing to a clean set I'd brought, I helped myself to a fine
lunch that had gone untouched.  I wasn't worried about anyone coming
along; no one was left.  I took a plate of ribs and sat by the pool
munching and watching her face hang motionless till I was sure she was
gone.

Then I wiped everything I might have touched without gloves, tossed
every thing from our bags of spoils save the cash (I certainly wasn't
going to try to pawn anything from this job).  There wasn't a lot of
cash, but there was enough to reimburse me for the rope and tape and
the black market weapons I'd bought for this job and would be leaving
behind.  The weapons might have been traceable, but while I didn't know
how far they could be traced, I was confident that the only link to me 
wouldn't be found till deer season started and the hunters spread out 
in the woods.

For me, of course, dear hunting season is year around, and the next day
the hunt began again.


END
