As Misty's python-like thighs clamped tightly around his head, Ollie thought his last thoughts, felt his last feelings. Though closer now to corpse than life form, the smooth elegance, the exquisite, plush quality of Misty's sumptuous thigh flesh against his face, the delicious scent of her skin and of her ass now lending its intense muscular power to the crush of her death grip; through all the horror, he yet felt all of this. This was the sensual rapture that made his own gruesome demise worthwhile. He wouldn't last long, and knowing so, he tried to experience Misty's awful wrath with the fullness of his being. Unable to breathe, forcing out the most pathetic agonized chirps, he managed to reach his good hand up and take hold of her leg. This sensation was the fulfillment of his last request, transporting him instantly to heaven's gate. His last earthly perception was one of having achieved perfection. He actually smiled as his skull was caving in, though it was only in his mind's eye, as his jaws had already been crushed to rubble.
“Watch carefully, Wifey dear,” Misty taunted, “and you'll be able to see his fucking eyeballs pop out!”
Hearing the horrifying cracking sounds of Ollie's skull actually being crushed, Iris's hysteria descended in to a silent incredulity. Her poor mind snapped, convincing her conscious mind that this must be nothing more than a terrible nightmare. With the next loud crunch, Ollie's skull crumbled flat between Misty's bone-crushing thighs. Through his eye sockets, mouth, and even through his ears, the thick flow of osterized brain tissue began to spill forth. Misty gave it one last hard squeeze for good measure, and Ollie's bowel and bladder control left him. As a pool of piss and the stench of shit issued from Ollie's body, Misty released him, rose to her feet, and stood back to look...and to laugh. His body twitched slightly from the last remaining nerve impulses, and the remnant of his head was more grotesque than anything imaginable in the most hard-core of horror movies. It looked for all the world like a steak, a flattened piece of red meat with brains served up around it. Add to this all the blood and internal body fluids Misty had beaten out of him, and it was as if his entire body had been systematically extracted of its vital materials in some sort of mad scientific experiment. Artie was virtually catatonic from beholding the frightful experience, and it was really not possible to know how damaged Iris was. One thing was certain; she had left her body entirely.
“Whaddya think, Hunky?” Misty asked, reveling in uncompromising arrogance. “Now was that a complete demolition, or was that a complete demolition?”
“Oh Yeeeeeeess, my divine Queen, my eternal Goddess,” he cried, “THAT was a complete demolition!”
Misty took a bow and then turned her attention to Arthur Lanier. DOCTOR Arthur Lanier.
“So, Lanier, tell me; What do you think of your evening so far? Was it everything you expected?”
She moved in front of him as he sat leaning against the wall and sensually showed off her legs to him, posing this way and that, and creating divine ripples from her ass down to her knees by stamping her foot lightly on the floor. Somehow Lanier managed to blurt out an answer that satisfied Misty.
“Oh, God!” he cried. “I love you! I love only you! I want you forever!!”
His theatrics sent Misty into a belly laugh.
“Good answer, dick-head; good answer! But why do I have the distinct impression that you're not being sincere? Hmmm? Just saying what Misty wants to hear? Is that it?”
“No!” Artie screamed. With all his strength he lunged forward, clasping his arms around Misty's legs. “No, No! I love you! More than life, I love you! Oh God! I'll do anything for you! Please! Please!”
Strong words. He looked up at Misty, the human viscera dripping from those huge legs, and began to cry. He was serious. Everything that had happened here tonight had made him realize what a real woman was, and he craved her intensely for his own. But Misty only laughed. She looked over at the Hunk and told him he could drop the catatonic body of Iris, and come in to help her.
“Hold him up,” she laughed.
Hunky snatched Artie under his arms and hoisted him into a standing position.
“Watch your head,” she said to her husband.
With that she reared back and put all her weight into an overhand right that landed flush in the center of Artie's face. The blood splattered all over, Artie's head bounced hard off the tile wall behind him, and Hunky released him, allowing him to fall flat onto his face on the floor.
“Get him back up,” Misty laughed. “And this time, keep holding him.”
Hunky brought the bloody animal to its feet and held on. Misty unleashed another roundhouse punch to his face, knocking out more teeth, and adding another flourish of blood and guts to her bathroom mural. Hunky held him in place. Another roundhouse punch. Another. Another. Yet another. Now Artie's face was an unrecognizable mass of pulp.
“Artie can you hear me?” Misty sang, mimicking 'Tommy' by The Who. “Can you feel me near you?”
She unloaded again with one more massive fist to his face and told Hunky to let him go. He fell forward, hands helplessly at his side, and his face smashed full force into the tile floor.
“Get him up again,” she said. Hunky pulled him back up. “Let him go every time I kick him,” she said, “and then bring him right back up.”
“Kill him!” Hunky cried. “Ooooo, yeah. Kill him good!”
The onslaught continued with repeated knee-bashes into Artie's mid-section. As Hunky Boy pulled Artie up again, Misty pulled his head up by the hair to see if she could still detect any life in the poor slug. Didn''t look like much.
“About time to go home, Shit-for-brains,” she said to Hunky. “Now hold him steady, then let go.”
Forward again came that monstrous thigh, vanishing into Artie's torso as bodily fluids exploded forth from his mouth like Vesuvius in its hey-day. Hunky let go and Artie fell forward, completely helpless, crashing onto the tile forehead-first. The guttural heaving sounds he made were utterly inhuman, like something only heard in the very depths of Hell itself. The sounds of the living dead. Cackling sadistically, Misty ordered Hunky to pull him back up. He was heavy now, as he had already turned to dead weight.
“Must still be kicking,” she laughed. “He's still groaning, and he's still pukin.'”
Again came the massive knee blow, if anything harder than the last one. With this one, Artie heaved so hard that some sort of solid mound of visceral material popped out of his mouth along with the multi-colored spray of whatever hideous fluids were now filling his stomach and lungs. At the same time, the internal force of the blow was such that long, thin streams of blood shot violently out of his eye-sockets, from behind his eyes, you could only suppose, and his body went into the most extreme and frightening of seizures as Hunky again released him for his fall. Falling with full weight on his face this time, you could hear the bones crack. The fall broke and dislocated his jaw completely and a few more errant teeth came clinking out onto the floor. The body continued to convulse wildly and Iris, who had been too shaken to move, now tried to rise to her feet.
“Bring her to me,” Misty said.
Hunky dragged Iris into the bathroom, where Misty instructed him to sit her down on the toilet seat.
“Like I told you, you're watching this movie all the way to the end,” Misty said. “I know how scary some of these horror movies can be, but don't worry. This one's almost over.”
.JPG)
She told Hunky not to release her victim this time. Holding Artie up in a sort of half-nelson, Hunky braced for the contact. Right knee...left knee. More grotesque mixture expelled from his throat behind sharp, veiled shrieks and groans. Again and again. More of Artie's internal chemistry lay in splashes on the floor than remained in his body. Again. Massive streams of blood spurting from those eyes...those lifeless eyes. With Hunky still holding him up, she again snapped his head back by the hair and looked deeply into that face. He was gone. He was distorted, rearranged. He was subhuman. Now, just to finish with panache, Misty twisted his head sideways, shoved it between her powerhouse thighs, and executed yet another butt drop onto the tile, snapping Artie's neck like a twig. The crackling sound was so eerie it would have frightened the dead. And dead they were, these two closet masochists. Misty laughed as she slowly got up, looking now at Iris with evil intent.
Iris remained slumped over Oliver's still twitching body, shrieking in uncontrollable hysterics. What must have been happening within her emotionally from the experience of this nightmare was unfathomable. Now Misty stood over her, gloating arrogantly.
“Iris,” she said, “look at me.”
Iris was completely oblivious as she clutched at Oliver, apparently doing all she could to physically merge with this blood and with the unrecognizable remains of his body.
“Iiiiiiiiiii-riiiiiiiiiiiis,” Misty taunted. “Better look at me.”
Finally she had to instruct hunky to force the woman's gaze upon her. As he held Iris'face sternly in the direction of his goddess, Misty began to flaunt her body at her. Her body, now ghoulishly covered in the blood, fluids, and other viscera of the dead doctors, had been the cause of the entire nightmare, and to put an exclamation mark on the whole affair, she wanted to rob Iris of her very last vestige of womanhood and indeed of her humanity by rubbing her superiority in the devastated woman's face.
“You see, bitch,” sneered Misty, “THIS is what a man wants! Look at my legs. Sheer beauty and sheer power. They're completely irresistible, don't you think?”
Iris only continued to bawl. Then, turning her ass toward Iris, she rubbed her hand smoothly over its broad circumference and laughed.
“Obviously, you NEVER had one of these!” she chided.
As Iris tearfully continued to gaze upon Misty's exquisite form, the life had almost gone out from her from sheer terror and shock. As Misty looked into her hysterical face, it was obvious she had lost all rationality.
“Poor little wifey,” Misty teased cruelly. “Guess there's nothing left but to put you out of your misery. I mean, it IS the humanitarian thing to do.”
She and Hunky yukked it up before Misty smashed Iris' face in with another titanic knee kick. Picking her up by the hair, Misty then delivered her deadly roundhouse right fist, which sent Iris crashing hard down upon the tile. Again Misty would force her to look upon her body as she snatched her up and nearly decapitated her with another jack-hammer knee to the side of her head. Then, just to end the entire show on a high note, Misty hoisted Iris up over her shoulder and inverted her body, head pointed toward the floor. And just like a championship lady wrestler, she positioned Iris carefully and executed a perfect pile-driver, dropping to the floor as Iris's head slammed with the full force of Misty's weight into the unforgiving tile between her giant thighs. Her body toppled over and bounced limply on the floor as Misty released her. The top of her head had been split wide open and crushed flat, her skull completely caved in upon her brain. Blood poured profusely onto the floor as a truly Satanic smile settled onto Misty's face.
“Check them all,” she said to Hunky as she rose to her feet. “Always remember that being sure is the most important thing.”
“Oh yes, my glorious owner,” he sputtered. “Right away, My Queen.”
Hunky was so worked up and agitated from the excitement of all this carnage that he was bordering on utter madness. He reminded one of Dr. Frankenstein's Igor the way he went helter skelter about the sordid business of checking the bodies. They were all dead at least twice over.
“That's a good little turd-face,” Misty laughed. “Our job here is done. Perhaps you'd enjoy your reward right here?”
Hunky began to weep even as he salivated openly. He indicated his agreement more with canine panting and begging sounds than by actually answering her. Misty pummeled him with a wicked right cross that sent him crashing to the floor, at which point she fell with all her weight on top of him. And there, lying amidst the blood, guts, and corpses, the stench of death all-pervasive, she proceeded to fuck his brains out in a fury of ecstasy. Hunky was obviously well-trained as he lasted long enough to satisfy his goddess. After they had each come deliriously, they took a bath together, gathered up Misty's clothes, and started for the car.
“It's almost daylight,” said Misty. “Let's go get some breakfast.”
“Breakfast,” Hunky repeated, dim-witted.
As Hunky drove along, Misty dug in the glove box and pulled out a small black palm pilot organizer. She scrolled down to find her itinerary for the upcoming week.
“Ahh, perfect!” she exclaimed. “I had almost forgotten. This Saturday we have that lawyer's convention I told you about.”
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