Part Three – Christina’s Disappearance . . .

by Zapped!

   In chapter three, we’ll focus on the tale of how a young biology student gets lost on a trip home from Duke University. After developing car troubles, she unexpectedly finds herself in the sleepy little town of Shady Creek. Her poor luck turns from bad to worse, when she stumbles across the wrong mechanic at a rustic location. Christina Salviati is just one of the seven women that have disappeared in rural Hatchapee County, and it’s surrounding areas, since 1980. There were still others missing that sadly went unnoticed.  

I wrote this chapter of the story for an enchanting young lady that’s in the ASFR community. It was submitted with her approval, but in no way reflects who she is as a person. This is strictly a fictitious account that’s being presented for entertainment purposes only . . .   

Once again, this is a backwoods tale of why it is sometimes best to leave things alone that you just don’t understand.  


Homeward bound . . .

April 8th, 2008

  It was on a weekend trip from Duke University to Glenwood Florida, that Christina Salviati found herself in the forgotten little town of Shady Creek Georgia. The twenty-one-year-old biology major was returning home for the Easter break, to spend some time with her parents. She was also looking forward to spending a few relaxing days in the sun at nearby Daytona Beach.

   Chrissy had been traveling south on I-95 in her 1994 Chevy Monte Carlo, when the check engine light came on. The student pulled off on the very next exit in search of a service station, but none could be found. The female somehow managed to drive for another six miles down secondary roads, before her car’s engine started making a noticeable knocking noise.

   Fearful of an expensive towing bill and no ride home, the desperate woman pulled into a roadside convenience store to seek help. It was a rather run-down looking place, with trashy looking buildings and junked automobiles surrounding it. The sign across the peak of the establishment said: “Woody’s General Store”

   Christina flipped open her phone, only to find that she had no bars showing. Shit!

The twenty-one-year-old had barely managed to get out of the driver’s seat, when a rather filthy looking man approached her from out of nowhere. He looked to be in his late fifties or early sixties and appeared to have lived a hard life. The clothes he was wearing were noticeably shabby; from his stained flannel shirt, to his high-water pants, (which were held up by suspenders). Atop his head, was a bright orange hunting cap that was made of wool  . . . (Which seemed rather odd, considering it wasn’t hunting season and the fact that it was 75 degrees out!)

   In a thick southern drawl, the old man asks, “Well hey there lil’ missy, how ya’ll doin' today?”   . . . The rustic looking character seemed polite, except for the fact that he was talking to her chest when he said it. The old guy adjusts his thick, horn-rimmed glasses upon his crooked nose, to get a better look:

. . . The gal had this long black hair that blew around her purdy face in the light southern wind. Her eyes was purdy too, reminding me of that rich brown color of a Hershey bar.  She wore a clingy tee-shirt that had a logo from one o' them big fancy schools on front that stopped just shy of the belt-loops of her mini-skirt, revealing a small but sexy line of skin all the way around her figure. She was wearin' this gauzy skirt that sorta swished around invitingly when she moved. I guess one might say, “It was long enough to cover the subject and short enough to arouse interest!”

   For a brief moment, Christina didn’t know whether she should run, or lock herself back in her car with hopes that someone would eventually find her! . . . The old man sort of looked like a hillbilly out of that movie “Deliverance” or even one of his relatives from “The Texas Chainsaw Massacre” with his rotting spaces between his teeth, and oily skin. And he had this uneasy demeanor, like he wasn’t used to being around pretty girls.  …It was around this time, that the young woman unexpectedly jerks her head back and tries to suppress a sour expression; she had just caught the putrid scent of his body odor in the light breeze!

   Oh-my-God! . . . This was definitely a mistake, thought the co-ed to herself.   “Um, yeah…I was just coming down I-95 and my check engine light came on, so I got off at the first exit. The engine started knocking, so I pulled in here hoping to possibly use your phone, if that’s possible?”

   “Naw, we aint got no phone . . . Damned phone company done cancelled our service when we didn’t pay da bill,” reveals the hillbilly.

   “Well, do you have a cell phone by chance?” asks the female. “I checked mine, but I couldn’t get any signal.”

  The bumpkin replies, “Naw, aint got none o' them newfangled walkie-talkies. But I do have a set o' army surplus two-way radios I picked up at an auction once! Hell, I can call my brother-in-laws and they live over a mile up tha road!”

   “Ah . . . sure you can,” reasons the woman while rolling her eyes. “Well, could you at least get in touch with a mechanic to maybe come out and take a look at my car for me?”

   “Well hell missy, it looks like 'yer in luck, cause I been workin' on cars since I was eight years old,” brags the old man. “Yes sir, my pappy didn’t raise no dummies, we was all drivin' around the pasture by the time we was ten!”

   “That’s great,” replies the female. “So do you think you can take a look at my car then?”

  “Well sure I could missy . . . But I have ta' admit; I’m used ta' workin' on older American iron, not these plastic computerized jobs,” says the man. “Go on ahead n' open her up.”

   In the minutes that follow, Wendell Woods pokes around the ailing motor. After various complaints about emissions equipment and how Christina’s engine compartment looks like a “bowl of spaghetti” with all of its unnecessary wiring, the backyard mechanic thinks he’s found the source:

   “Well fer one; 'yer just about out o' motor oil. Fer two; I also think ya' got a bad censor.”

    Chrissy shields her vision from the sun, before pulling her large sunglasses back down over her bothered eyes. The woman finally asks, “Is that serious?”

Wendell:  “Well, I’ll have to fill her back up with oil . . . Probably change the filter while

                   I’m at it. The sensor I’ll have to grab downtown at the parts store.”    

Chrissy:  “Um yeah, why don’t you do that then, because I’m driving to Florida.”

Wendell: “Florida?… Hell – Elmer my brother-in-law, tells me ya’ll got some nice gators

                 down in them swamps in Florida. ya' see he used to run this travelin' sideshow

                 years back, n' he used to make runs down 'yer way to restock his gator pond…  

                 Them ole boys used to wrassle them gators as part of the attractions!”

Chrissy:  “Well that’s . . . just grand. So are you going to get the parts then?”

Wendell:  “Well I can’t very well git the parts, when I’m standin' right here n' jawin'              

                  with ya’ll, now can I?”

   With that said, Christina makes her way towards the general store, (checking her cell phone for a signal, as she walks along).   …Well that’s just great: I’m stuck out here in the boondocks with some redneck; without a car; and without any communication to the outside world!   The young woman spots a ladies room at the side of the general store, and decides to make a quick stop.   …At least they have actual restrooms and not some two-hole wooden outhouse!

   Chrissy steps inside, locks the door, and then looks over the condition of the facility. There was graffiti written on the walls and the bathroom was unkempt, just as she figured it would be. As the co-ed lined the toilet seat with multiple layers of tissue paper, she has no idea that she’s being watched through a hole in the wall . . .

* * * * * *

Curiosity killed the cat . . .

   When Christina finally steps into the adjoining store several minutes later, she’s not surprised to see that it had just the basic necessities of country living. There was whiskey, wine and cigarettes, mixed in with funnel cake, local fruit, loaves of bread and fireworks. There were cases of motor oil stacked alongside twice as many cases of beer. Chrissy thinks to herself, Of course any proud redneck would buy his beer in bulk, now wouldn’t he?… Behind the sales counter was a full assortment of adult magazines . . . The co-ed considers, surely enough to keep any country boy occupied if he found himself lonely and his cousin wasn’t around . . .*Sigh!*

   It was only then, that the biology student noticed a small shelf in the corner. Lining the shelves were glass jars containing pickled critters. Out of general curiosity, the young woman picks up one of the containers that held the distorted form of a preserved miniature shark. Below it was a sign that said, “Own a legend for ten bucks!” …Christina shook the jar lightly, and watched the embalmed carnivorous creature bobble helplessly around inside. “Hey little guy,” she spoke out before asking, “What have they done to you, huh?”

   The poor girl jumps as an unexpected voice speaks out from behind her. “That there’s a Carcharodon carcharias; also known as The Great White Shark.”

   Chrissy sets the jar back on the shelf , before turning around to see yet another hillbilly - this one nearly as filthy looking as the last! . . . He was rather sturdy looking for an old man, with a strong jaw line and noticeable sideburns. The young woman surmised that Lester Grimly, (as the man politely introduced himself), was an Elvis fan from way back, judging by the greasy pompadour hairdo that stood from his head!   …Hmm, I’ll bet this one’s real popular with the ladies…in the trailer park, that is.

   The hillbilly looks the woman over and briefly sizes her up:

. . . The girl was a real looker with smooth young skin and a fair complexion. Her eyes were the same color brown as rich Colombian coffee, and they glittered with intelligence.

She had this silky dark hair that fell over her chest, and framed her attractive face . . . And when I say attractive, I mean attractive like as in Audrey Hepburn or even Natalie Wood - back when they were in their prime.   . . . I couldn’t tell if she was Greek, Italian or even Persian, but whoever this girl was; she was about to make my day interestin' fer sure!

   The man picks up the jar containing the shark and continues, “Great whites have been known to reach lengths of more than twenny feet and can weigh up to five thousan’ pounds . . . In fact the great white shark is arguably the world's largest known predatory fish.”

Chrissy:  “Now I mean no offense, Mr. Grimly, but how would a man in the backwoods   of Georgia know anything about Great White Sharks?”

   The man places the glass jar carefully back on the shelf before answering, “Kids out this way don’t got much ta' do . . . I spent much of my childhood reading biology and chemistry books.”

   The woman asks, “And is this how you learned to preserve specimens in jars?”

Lester:  “Naw; my pappy owned a funeral home here in Shady Creek. By the ripe ole age of fourteen, I was already preserving lot’s of differen’ things . . . Includin' stray cats.”

   That last statement was almost enough to send a chill up Christina Salviati’s spine. This guy is a total bull-shitter   . . .Yet, as odd as this fellow was, I still managed to find him quite intriguing . . .

   “Hey, everyone needs a hobby, right?” the female rationalizes, (now beginning to play with a strand of her long black hair).

   “Well, I suppose,” considers the man. “But fer me, I tend to think of it more as an obsession.  You like sharks too?”

   “I’m actually a student at Duke that’s majoring in biology,” divulges the young woman nervously. “I have an end year term paper coming up, that I have yet to get started on . . . I figure I’ll probably start on it over the break.”

   “Well, I do happen to have over a hundred rare species of critters. They’s all pickled away in my museum up yonder,” reveals Lester. “If ye think ye’d like to take a look around, 'yer more than welcome. The building is climate controlled and every'thin.”

   The student thought, “Climate controlled” . . . wooo! Now those were some words I didn’t expect to hear from a backwoods hick!  . . . Deep down inside, something didn’t feel right about this man. He seemed to be a little too smart for a country bumpkin. However, this might just be the opportunity I’d been waiting for. After all; what would make a better study, (or a story to tell my friends for that matter), than some woodchuck that’s pickling critters away in some storage shed?

   “You know Mr. Grimly, I think I’ll take you up on that,” says the biology student. “Is it very far from here?”

   Lester explains with a crooked smile, “Heck no, it’s jest about two shakes of a lamb’s tail right on up that thar road!”

   “Great! Let me grab my camera and my notebook,” says the girl . . . And I think I’ll grab my mace while I’m at it!

* * * * * *

   The ride over to Lester’s place was a dusty, if not an eye-opening experience. First there was his car; how was it possible that somebody of his stature and apparent lack of income could own a brand new Toyota Land Cruiser? As the woman looked out over the landscape on the way over, it was as desolate and backwoods as it gets; nothing but surrounding woods that were thick with trees. Chrissy soon found herself wondering, Why would anybody possibly want to live out here?

   The pair pass a rusted old school bus that had a piece of plywood propped up against it.

The crudely painted sign advertised:

                             ’Grimly’s World Famous Sideshow’ straight ahead...

   “What’s that all about?” asked the co-ed out of curiosity.

   Lester pulls off onto the dusty country road and explains, “This land all belonged to my pappy, and my grand pappy before him. My brother Elmer and I inherited all this prop'ty when my pappy died. Now ole Elmer got this idea of startin' up a travelin' sideshow and done pretty good fer himself fer many years. So, with nobody left around to run it, I decided to take over the family funeral business fer ma'self.”

   The young woman asks, “Ok, so who was that guy that is working on my car then?”

   Lester explains, “That thar is Wendell Woods. His grand pappy built that thar gen'ral store, and it’s been passed down from generation to generation. He married my sister n' they done had a child together, ‘cept she come out retarded.”

   Chrissy narrows her eyebrows and mumbles, “Mmm-k.”

   “Anyway, Elmer done got too ole to be travelin' around wit his sideshow, so he mostly entertains the local folk nowadays, just to earn a few extra bucks,” says Lester, before he adds, “ . . . It’s all tax-free of course!”

   “Mmm-hmm,” replies the woman.

   The Toyota Land Cruiser finally comes upon a clearing. Like the place they had just left, the surrounding landscape was littered with junk automobiles and their respective parts. There were old washing machines, broken refrigerators and just about every thing else that anybody could manage to discard - it was all here sitting in the Grimlys’ yard. There was even some faded circus equipment, (undoubtedly remnants of Lester’s brothers foray into the traveling entertainment business). There were several outbuildings on the property, as well as an old farmhouse and a double-wide trailer. Every one of the structures was run down and from the looks of it, should have been condemned! 

. . . How in the hell could someone live like this?  Christina wonders to herself. The coed takes another look at the shiny SUV beside her, and then returns her gaze back to the weathered looking structures. She soon finds herself suspiciously surmising, Something isn’t quite right here!

   The young woman follows Lester to a small wooden building, where he unlocks the door and pushes it open. (Grimly blocks the door with a wedge, before flipping on a series of dull lights). The old man motions to the young woman and says, “Come on in.”

   The room beyond was strangely lit with a green-colored lights that were mounted along the rafters above. The beams of light cast a eerie greenish hue over everything within their path, (including the onlookers). There were glass jars lining the dozens of shelves in the room, with each containing frogs, salamanders, and snakes; most of which, hailed from Midwestern or Southern states.  They all now floated peacefully alongside one another, in murky pools of formaldehyde.

   Christina hadn’t taken more than two steps forward, when she nearly bumped her head on a stuffed crocodile that was hanging from steel wires. “Oh shit!” the woman yelled out, before cupping a hand over her foul mouth . . . “Woops, I’m sorry!”

   “Heh-heh, that ole gator gets em’ every time,” bragged the old man. “That one was Elmer’s idear!”

   “You’re brother sounds like he has a real dark sense of humor,” says the girl, while trying to keep her cool. Christina continues on; going deeper into the museum corridor and passing by rack after rack of taxidermy. The critters wouldn’t have bothered her so much, except for the fact that Lester fitted them with those glass eyes that would follow you wherever you moved!

    Looking around the woman states, “So I see you actually are a taxidermist.”

   Lester explains, “Well, growing up - there wasn’t a whole lot to do in Hatchapee County. We all learned to live off the land at an early age, and pappy thought it would be good practice for when I got into the family business.”

   “Mmm-hmm, I see,” says Chrissy before writing something down in her notebook.

   The pair come upon a stuffed bobcat with fierce yellow eyes. (Lester scratches one of the short-tailed, wild cat’s tufted ears, as if he were tending to a family pet!) . . . The man states, “As much as I enjoy preservin' the beauty in things, collectin' n' studyin' snakes would be my other love. In fact I got me a whole building dedicated to em’…”

   The student gives the man a peculiar look, (as Lester’s attention is still focused on the cat), and she thinks to herself, But of course you do, you backwoods freak!    

   The questions continued for another ten minutes or so, before Lester unexpectedly excused himself from the building, saying he had to “tend to the dogs” or something. Christina carried on by herself though, looking in on the various toads and mudskippers with their little faces pressed up against the glass walls of the jars. She moved on to the bat and lizard section, were examples had their little claws (and wings in some cases) pinned against boards, so that one could see the membrane in between them.

   Mmm, classy stuff, thought Chrissy to herself. How did a pretty girl like me get into this major anyway?

   At one point, the young woman was looking in at a rather well preserved lizard specimen, that was mounted on one of the nearby walls. The lizard unexpectedly flicked out it’s tongue and then it scuttled up the wall! “Holy shit!” Christina yelled, before dropping her notepad and pen to the floor.

   After regaining her composure, the biology student continued on; now noticing what appeared to be some sort of home-made torture devices, that hung from hooks on the walls. The items looked crude and strangely out of place . . . (Although they’d look right at home on some S and M website! . . . Strange and curious indeed, thought the woman to herself).  There were also scalpels, saws and forceps, all lying on a nearby workbench…  along with a jar half-full of floating eyeballs!

   “Mmm-hmm, he keeps some spare parts around too,” murmurs the young woman, (just before she wipes some sweat from her brow). “Just beeee cooool girl!”  . . . Chrissy thought it was rather funny how she was suddenly sweating, even though the air conditioner was running. Yet the air still managed to feel a little clammy . . . Maybe it’s just the company!

   Chrissy swallowed hard. It wasn’t so much the creatures that bothered her, it was more like the house of horror type setting she was in! The young woman looked over her shoulder in a bit of paranoia, before starting to wonder:  What am I doing out here anyway? It was bad enough being stranded at that general store, but was this much better? Is this really worth a higher final grade point average? . . . I’m just going to finish my notes and get the hell out of here in one piece. Before you know it, these inbred maniacs will be dragging me off and stuffing me, or even keeping my body parts in jars of formaldehyde!

   Christina nervously digs into her hand-held purse and then retrieves her cell phone, just to check for a signal: . . . FUCK! - Nothing! …What do I even pay a bill for? The student dejectedly drops the phone back into her purse, where it ‘clinks’ against her can of mace.

   That’s when a voice spoke out:

   “Hey . . . Hey you there! . . . Who in the hell are you?”

   Christina drops both her notepad and her purse in shock, (both fall beneath the nearby table and beyond its decorative skirting) . . . She looks at the man in front of her, to find the most inbred looking one of them all! The man was staring at her with one bloodshot eye, while the other eye creepily wandered off at an angle. His face looked gaunt, as if he was malnourished, and his hair was gray and disheveled. He wore stained and patched clothes, with a derby hat and suspenders. His teeth were moldy green and he reeked of  poor hygiene and booze . . . That was when she noticed him raising the pitchfork in his hands.

   The hillbilly questions with a suspicious look, “Are ya’ll with the I.R.S. woman?”

   “No sir . . .”

   Continuing his interrogation, the paranoid freak raises the pitchfork a little higher and asks, “Are you with the DEA, FBI or workers comp?”

   “No sir, I’m not,” replies the woman. “I can assure you that I’m just a biology student that was on my way home to Florida. This guy named Grimly let me in here to-”

   “Shut up!…I don’t recollect lettin' anybody up in here fer no tour!” the man yells. “I’m tellin' ya right now; I don’t appreciate no liars, n' if I find out 'yer a revenuer, I wont be afraid to stick it to ya!”

   “Please sir, I beg of you; I’m not lying!” assured the woman. Christina backs up against a rack full of jars and nearly tips the shelf over, as the redneck edges even nearer with the pitchfork!

   Christina’s eyes went wide with fear with no place to run . . . The prongs of the pitchfork were now pressing against her mid-section! She wanted to reach for her mace, but was afraid she’d get stabbed in the process!

“Hyuck-hyuck-hyuck!…I had ya’ll goin' fer a minute thar!” spouts the lazy-eyed man with a backwoods laugh. He then nudges the woman lightly with the prongs. “Ole Lester done told me thar wuz a sexy lil' gal out here!”

   Christina lets out a sigh of relief, before she yells, “What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you honestly think that was funny?”

   The cruel man warns, “Well now jest calm down thar, honey bunches . . . Aint no need fer ya’ll ta' get those little black panties all up in a bunch.”

   The young woman pauses in thought for a moment, as if to weight what she’s just heard . . .“Wait a minute . . .what did you just say?”

   The creep reveals, “Yeah that’s right; ole Woody done called up on the radio n' told us about them slinky lil panties ya’ll was wearin! . . . Aint that right Lester?”

. . . Lester Grimly had somehow managed to creep up behind the woman. Within his hidden palm was a hypodermic needle; the chamber full of a milky yellow substance.

   An infuriated Christina yells, “What? . . . That pervert was actually spying on me in the restroom?” 

   “It aint that often that we get any purdy gals like ya’ll around here,” reveals Lester, before adding, “At least ones that’s still alive anyway . . . ain that right Elmer?”

   “Yeah that’s right,” agrees the one with the bad eye, before he goes on to explain, “You see; Lester here needs ta' git hisself a woman! …You know; ta' cook, clean and to keep his bed nice n' warm at night.”

   “Over my dead body!” spouted the woman.

   Lester replies, “Well sweetie, I’m kinda hopin' it don’t come down ta' that.”

   Chrissy fires back, “Neither of you would have a chance in hell, believe me!”

   “Ya’ll shouldn’t act so high and mighty, missy,” warns Elmer. “Runnin' around in them short lil' skirts almost half-nekkid . . .ya’ll is jest askin' fer trouble.”. . . (One of the prongs on Elmer’s pitchfork raises the hem of Christina’s short dress, before she furrows her eyebrows and pushes it away).

   “Well I don’t know, this one seems kinda standoffish,” says Lester. “Maybe she’d be better off joinin' the other gals.”

   “Yeah maybe 'yer right brother. Are ya’ll gonna take her in an introduce them?” asked Elmer.

   Lester replies, “Nah, she’ll have plenty a time ta' git acquainted with 'em later!”

   Without any warning, Lester Grimly purges the hypodermic needle into the air and yells, “Grab her… quick!”

   Before Christina has any time to react, Elmer has braced the woman’s hands to keep them from flailing around. The student begins to kick and struggle with the use of her legs but the redneck quickly interlocks them with one of his own. His brother reaches around to stifle the woman’s scream, before jabbing the hypodermic needle into the struggling co-ed’s neck. The defiant female lets out a muffled “MMMMPH!” before Lester squeezes the plunger!

   “Do you remember me mentioning how I also like snakes?” questions the hillbilly from behind . . . “Well let me introduce you to the poisonous venom of my favorite snake of all: The Black Mamba!”

   The student resists with another, “MMMMMPH . . . MMMMPH!”

   Lester Grimly sets the hypo down, before he begins running his pudgy fingers through Christina’s silky hair. He then goes on to explain, “Black Mamba venom contains powerful, fast-acting neurotoxins and cardiotoxins. An adult’s bite can deliver up to 250 mg of venom; causing a tingling sensation throughout the body, followed by double vision and severe confusion. Eventually 'yer extremities will succumb to the venom and ya’lls purty body will begin to solidify into a paralytic state!  Raht amazin’ really…”

   Christina could feel the poison begin shutting her down right away; her thought processes were getting hazy, while her body suddenly tingled all over, feeling strangely heavy and stiff. The female’s vision was clouding in at the sides, as her muscle tissue began to tighten up. The student thought that she remembered trying to curse the man’s name, but her lips no longer seemed to move…

   Lester continued to gently brush his free hand over the woman’s hair, as if she were his pet. “Well little girly, it’s kinda ironic that a student who’s studying biology, ends up being a fine specimen herself, don’t ya' think?  … Heh-heh-heh.”

   The defiant female manages another, “Mmmmph!” but it was noticeably weaker . . .

    Lester watches with anticipation . . . They always react to the moment, no matter how calm or self-absorbed they are, they always react! . . . And then the full effect hit her. Christina’s eyelids fluttered briefly; her body began to twitch and spasm…Then her eyes went wide in shock! The helpless woman stared out with such intensity in her dark brown eyes, that Elmer actually took a step backward!

   The young woman was so caught up in the numbing sensation that she was unaware that the hillbilly was feeling up her ass from behind her. It wasn’t until Chrissy stopped twitching that she sensed Lester’s hard-on pressing up against her backside . . . But by then it was too late. The coed managed one deep breath, before she locked in place!

   Elmer asks, “Is that it?” (He waves his hand through the student’s seemingly unbroken line of vision as a quick test).

   Lester removes his hand from the young woman’s mouth, to reveal that it remained wide open! The hillbilly steps out from behind the girl, to study her in side profile…

   Christina had frozen with her arms raised and in a struggling stance. The woman’s mouth hung agape; not only in reaction to the poisonous venom, but also in disbelief that this was being done to her by the very same man that had graciously offered her a ride!

   Lester orders his brother, “Alright Elmer, lets pick her up n' git her on over to the workshop!”

   With that, the two rednecks picked up Christina’s frozen-stiff-form. With her arms and legs still bent in position, the biology student was then carried off to another building, where she was to be processed . . .

* * * * * *

   Christina had been taken to another building on the premises, and it was in this edifice that Lester Grimly did most of his work. Although the structure appeared to be nothing more than a rustic barn on the outside, it was inside those wooden walls that the most horrible of atrocities took place. The local townsfolk often told stories of a crazed loon who cruised the back roads of Hatchapee County in the midnight hour, restlessly searching for his next victim. But it was here, within this very barn and the adjoining tin building out front, that the only proof of his crimes existed!

   As you could probably imagine, It wasn’t long before the eager hillbillies were ready to get to work . . .


Inspecting the goods . . .

   Lester realized it was a bit foolish, but he sometimes liked to look into the eyes of his victims, before he began undressing them. There was a certain power he felt when looking into their lifeless staring eyes, and this latest one was no exception. The old man knew he couldn’t pass first base, if this woman had any say in the matter. But now, standing here alone with her in this rustic ole' barn; none of that would matter . . .

   The redneck snips his trusty shears in midair a few times and suggests, “Ya’ll should learn ta' lighten up thar, missy!”

   Lester begins to cut away at the female’s clothing rather easily, as he’s utilizing a pair of trauma shears. The immobilized coed’s ‘Duke University’ shirt is snipped up the front, before its peeled off and away from her shoulders. The hillbilly started on her pink-tiered skirt next; snipping through the cotton with ease, right up until he reaches the elastic waistband. (This part proves to be a little more work, as the blades of the scissors keep binding up on the rubbery material). The redneck reaches in with his big hands and grabs the waistband of her skirt, before repeatedly trying to rip it in two. With one violent yank downward, the skirt is ripped from her waist, (the force of the act is so harsh, that it causes Chrissy’s rigid figure to wobble in place, yet she still remains erect!)

. . . Christina Salviati now stood before these strangers, wearing nothing more than her lacy black g-string and matching bra.

   “Whoo-wee!…She got some cute lil' undies,” observes Elmer from just beside his brother. The man then asks, “Could I keep them panties fer my collection?”

   Lester doesn’t answer, as he unhooks the clasp of Christina’s bra and then cuts the straps to free it from her body. The man tosses the bra off to the side, before kneeling downward in front of the young woman. The pervert enjoys the view for a bit, before he snips the left side of her lace panties and then the right. The younger of the Grimly boys’ grabs the front of the slinky g-string and yanked it away from the female’s undercarriage, before tossing the undies to his brother.

. . . Elmer catches the undergarment with an appreciative grin, before burying his nose into them to get a good whiff!   *SNUURRRFFF*  . . . “Mmm-Mmmm! . . . Aint no finer smell in this whole wide world!” he says, before holding them up in the fluorescent light. Satisfied with his prize, the hick stuffs them in his pocket and graciously nods his head.  “Hey, much obliged there brother!- Heh-heh-heh!”

   Still in a crouched position, Lester looks over Christina’s pubic mound. For the most part, it was hairless, except for the thin landing strip that went up the middle. The man considers, It looked like she recently had one of them fancy Brazilian bikini waxes, judging by how smooth it was!   . . . The bumpkin ran the backs of his fingers down across the fine pubic hairs, before turning his hand over to inspect the vulva. Now parting the folds, the old-timer examined every square inch of her sex. He even sniffed her out, before commenting over his shoulder, “Her cooter got a real good scent . . . like cotton candy!”

. . . Elmer nods his head approvingly, before adjusting the hard-on within his trousers.

   Lester raises himself upward, before taking a step back to appraise his subject:

. . . Her breasts was small but they sat up high, and to me; they looked more girlish than womanly. In fact; I was sure they’d easily disappear within my leathery palms. Her sexy little tummy bowed out slightly from her narrow waist, while her hips were curved like a glass coke bottle.  . . . I slowly walked around behind her jest fer a different view. I could see right away that her ass looked absolutely gorgeous, jest by how it arched outwards from her lower back.  . . . I knew from the first moment I saw her, that this woman was an excellent candidate for my collection. She was young, healthy, and had no prospects of being found . . .

   Lester walked back around Christina, brushing his fingers across her stomach and then pressing them against her belly. “Nice n' taught”, he announced to his brother. Then the old man reached up and pulled at Christina’s nipples, stretching them away from her breasts like silly putty. Grimly then lets go, leaving both buttons to slowly settle, yet each remain proudly erect.

   “Hee-hee-hee, I really like this one Lester!” says the second redneck. (The perverted man then walks around the woman, before clamping on to both of her butt cheeks to measure their incredible firmness).

   Lester lets out a sigh, before he rubs his beer belly in hunger. “Whatcha' say we head on down to the diner on Route 12 an git us some supper. I’m so hungry right now, I could eat me a dead possum from the side o' tha road!”

   “Well, don’t cha' wanna git her trussed up first?” asks Elmer with a note of disappointment in his voice.

   “Nah, she’ll be jest fine whar she is,” replies Lester. “Besides, that snake venom will hold ‘er stiff as a board fer twenty four hours!   . . . Let me gather up Junior, and we’ll head on into town.”

   As the two brothers leave the barn, Lester spots his twelve year old son named Junior, gathering sheets from a clothesline outback. “Come on boy! . . . We is headed into town, an unless you plan on skinnin' a rabbit, you best be goin' with us.”

   From his position behind a hedgerow, Wendell Woods watches within a stone’s throw distance from the barn. As his brother-in-law’s Land Cruiser disappears within a cloud of dust, the perverted old man makes his way towards the barn . . .

* * * * * *

   It had been over an hour since Christina Salviati had been injected with the venom of a Black Mamba. What her captors didn’t know was that the biology student had been treated with a variety of antivenin shots, as per university rules for any students dealing with deadly wildlife. The preventative measure wouldn’t be enough to free the young woman from her suspended state, however she was becoming aware of her existence . . .

   As Christina’s thoughts began to stir, she had no idea where she was, nor why she couldn’t move her body. It took a few minutes for her vision to return. It would take several more, before she realized that she was now stark naked . . .


   Wendell Woods rolls the squeaky barn door open and snuck inside. It didn’t take long for the old man to find what he’d come all the way up here for . . .

   Standing in a corner of the barn beneath some fluorescent lights, was Chrissy: the young woman who had stopped at his place earlier with car troubles. She was gloriously nude and standing upward, but in what appeared to be a struggling position. Her face was frozen in a state of shock, which undoubtedly was a result of the snake venom that Lester had given to her. (After knowing his in-laws for so many years, Woody was privy to the Grimly boys’ practices. Unfortunately, he wasn’t always allowed to partake in their secretive activities - at least not as often as he would have liked to!)

    As Chrissy stood silent, the man began to slowly trace the outline of her breasts with his grease-stained fingertips. He cupped each one of them within his grubby hands and felt their firmness. The skin was soft and as smooth as satin. Woody gently stroked her nipples with just the tips of his greasy fingers. “Gosh-dang 'yer a hot one!” he exclaims, before picking the paralyzed young woman up from around the waist. The old man carried Christina over to an area where hay was scattered about on the floor, before setting the helpless girl down on her back. As he does so, he loses his grip. The poor woman falls back and bumps her head just enough to finally clear her vision . . .

   Christina tried to figure out where she was, and why she was here. Although her eyes refused to move, the young woman did manage to see, and she could tell that she was in a completely foreign place. As the coed tried to remember the details leading up to her being here, she realized the last memory she had was that of a painful nightmare. As it turns out; her nightmare might not have been a dream after all . . .

   All the while, Wendell had been admiring Christina’s body. The old man traced his wrinkled fingers down the student’s belly, savoring the downy softness of her skin. He then explored even further; lightly brushing his hand over her silky black pubic hair, before grazing the outer folds of her vagina . . .

   “This is way too much!”  Wendell protested out loud. (The redneck’s crotch was throbbing, while his balls ached with desire!)  For the most part, Woody wasn’t allowed to touch Lester’s victims, unless he was standing right there with him. But right now, there wasn’t anybody here to stop him. The man already knew all-too-well what was to become of Chrissy and couldn’t see letting her go to waste . . . After all; he could be the last good ole boy to give her pleasure, even if she wasn’t exactly aware of it!  As the poor female lay spread on the floor of the barn, the bumpkin starts to get undressed . . .

   Meanwhile, Christina continued to struggle with how she got here. She remembered writing down notes for something, but not much else. Where she was now, was well beyond her grasp. It appeared to be a warehouse, or maybe some sort of barn, from what little she could see.   . . . The woman didn’t recall getting undressed, but then she had to be; there was a cool draft on her exposed skin - especially down below . . .

   Wendell Woods wasn’t particularly endowed, but for a man of his age - he stood firm and ready to go! The redneck positioned himself between Christina’s legs, and began guiding his unit towards her frozen muffin.

. . . From her position below, Chrissy could see somebody’s head now coming into her line of view. He was an older looking man with weathered skin, and *GASP* rotten gums! . . . Oh God! Please make him good looking at least!   …Despite the character’s appearance, he did look awfully familiar though. But for as hard as she tried, she just couldn’t seem to place him.

. . . And that’s when she felt it. That first initial thrust that parted her womanhood - it took the woman completely by surprise! A second, more deeper thrust, would fill her entirely!

. . . Oh my God…that couldn’t be what I think it is, could it?

   By the second lunge, Wendell’s shaft had completely disappeared into the helpless woman. It didn’t bother the hillbilly that there wasn’t any response from Christina, as he began to pump in and out of her. The old man worked the poor girl slowly at first, and then sped himself up, as he continued to thrust himself inside. Woody’s breathing became labored, as he watched the female’s breasts swirling around and around . . .


   As horrifying as an experience like this could be to a female, Chrissy wasn’t entirely complaining:

. . . Did I like being banged on by some inbred-looking, backwoods hick? . . . Fuuuck no! But I know I’m not the only woman in this world who enjoys being dominated by a man during sex. That powerless feeling of being ‘taken’ as it were, and the whole helplessness of it all! . . . My pussy seemed to swell and blossom just at the mere thought of it. It continued to betray me as a human being with rights, while at the same time granting what I had hoped for as a submissive. My defenseless clit was tingling with ultra-sensitivity now, straining for more, impelling this stranger to . . .

   Driven on by the building rage within his dick, Wendell continued to screw the helpless young woman. At one point, the old man rolled her over just so he could admire her tight ass. He gripped his leathery hands around her hips, and lifted her up a little, just so he could get better access to his target. Chrissy knew nothing of this of course, (as far as he knew), and the man continued to take her from behind. With each perpetual thrust, the perverted man grew closer to orgasm. . .


   Christina continued to stare lifelessly forward and into the hay. She felt like nothing more than a sex doll; some mere plaything that this hillbilly could use at his own whim, and then toss off into a closet somewhere until needed. The young woman took her exploitation for what it was, and watched the glittering stars float within her eyes with every forceful thrust . . .

   As the cracker continued his assault on the female’s ass, he felt a familiar surge now welling up within his cock. Wendell’s breathing was labored, (unlike the frozen form below him), and he quickly withdrew from the coed to roll her back over. With a noted sense of urgency, the perverted old man pressed his way forward once again. The timing of his strokes sped up, and Woody lasted for another five minutes, with his balls slapping loudly against Christina’s thighs . . . The redneck plunged deeper into the woman’s slit, while his building orgasm got closer with each violent thrust.   . . . And then, with one final lunge, the hillbilly buried himself into the furthest reaches of the coed’s tunnel. Suddenly his whole body stiffens and Wendell lets an ecstatic groan of pleasure escape from his lips:

“Ohhhh! . . . Oh God, ugh-ugh-ugh- this- feels- soooo- goo-goo-good! Ohhh!”

. . . Wendell’s back arches into a position that was more appropriate for a male that was less than half his age!

“Ughhhh-ughhh-ughhh!” spouts the old hick, as he continues to pump his hot discharge into the suspended pussy!

   Several minutes would pass by, before the old man’s body would eventually grind to a halt.    . . . Wendell Woods would then lay, in an exhausted heap, on top of Christina’s prone body: his breathing heavy; his deflated prick twitching with aftershocks and still plugging her pussy with his smoldering cum still inside her!   . . . This was the first time that he messed with one of the victims, and the old man had given it to her good!  …From the very moment the bumpkin had seen her, he knew that he wanted her. Who could have ever guessed that he would actually get to live out that fantasy!   . . . As Woody gazed down into the woman’s still frozen expression, he gently traced the circumference of her luscious lips with his index finger. The rube slid his hands gently over Chrissy’s curvaceous body; finding her breasts and massaging both of them, before playing contentedly with her nipples.  “Lovely young gal, absolutely lovely,” observes the man out loud, before he comments to no one in particular, “I jest wish ole' Lester could find 'em like this all the time!”

   The hillbilly gets up off of the barn floor and wipes the cum off of himself with the bottom of his flannel shirt. He then began searching for an old shop rag to clean his still lover off with. (If she were able, Christina surely would have cringed at the site of the pacing bumpkin, with his droopy old junk flopping around lazily below his waistline!)

. . . Mr. Woods finds an old red shop rag, and then returns to the prone young woman. The man lovingly wipes off her undercarriage, before lifting the female and returning her to her former place. The redneck picks at some lingering pieces of straw within Chrissy’s long locks, before brushing her body off with his rough hands. Wendell forcefully moves the figure’s limbs back into what looked like their original position. (For the most part, Christina’s body was so rigid, that only her legs and arms needed readjustment!)

   Wendell takes a step back to look Chrissy over and then says, “Well missy, I hope ye enjoy 'yer new home here in Shady Creek, an I thank ye fer 'yer hospitality!”  . . . (The man brushes a stray lock of hair away from her gorgeous brown eyes). The bumpkin states, “I know one thing fer sure; I’m gonna sleep good tonight! Heh-heh-heh…”

   With that said, Wendell gave his lover one last kiss goodbye. Once the old man sneaks off, Christina’s suspended form is left standing in silence, within the confines of the Grimly brothers’ barn . . .

* * * * * *

   It was several hours later, when the Grimly boys finally returned home to carry on with their latest project. The pair found Christina Salviati remaining just as they had left her; standing in her statue-like pose, with arms raised defensively outward, and with an unmoving look of shock still etched into her expression.

. . . Apparently, neither of the men had noticed the sticky lines of semen, now dried along the inside curves of the young lady’s thighs!

   Lester approaches the frozen figure and asks her, “Well now sweetie, are we having fun yet?” . . . The man cruelly runs a pudgy finger along Chrissy’s attractive jaw line, before resting his hand on the curve of the woman’s hip. “I hope ya’ll can appreciate the fact that I’ll be preserving your beauty forever…”    

. . . The man turns away from Christina a moment later; leaving the coed to consider the thought, while standing in frozen silence . . . (Quite literally!)

   Lester turns to his brother and says, “I’ll bring them 5 gallon buckets on over to the processing area, with the hand-truck. Ya’ll gonna have ta' send 'em on up to the mezzanine with that thar winch. I wannna get that mixer fired up so I can start dumping that acrylic in . . . ”

   Elmer launches some tobacco spit off into the air, before he wipes his crusty lips on his sleeve. The man nods his head and says, “I sure will brother! - Heh-heh-heh.”


Taking a dip . . .

   A short time later, Lester and his brother could be seen carrying the stiffened body of the twenty-one-year-old towards a cordoned off section of the barn. The space was bordered by clear plastic sheeting that was stapled to the wooden framework of the room. Beyond the plastic sheeting were four glass cylinders lining the walls inside; each seven feet high and approximately three feet wide. The chambers were capped on each end by a chromed metal band, and stood mounted on heavy wooden pallets, as if they could be moved. Mounted on a nearby stand, was a single power box; its mass of colorful wiring provided power to each one of the tanks. There was a filling port at the bottom of every tube, with a thick corrugated pipe affixed to the bottom. (One of those pipes was filling a chamber with a thick and goopy substance right now . . .)

   Hanging in the air nearby, was a control wand that was attached to power cable that hung from above. Hovering beside the hand-held controller was a large “J” hook that was made of cast steel. The former meat hook was suspended by thickly wound cables that looped around the swiveling pulley at its top. Those cables were attached to an industrial winch that was mounted high into the rafters above.

   The two hillbillies set the woman’s body flat on the floor, before Lester turned to his kin to say, “Ok brother, ya’ll know what to do . . .”

   “Oh yeah,” assures Elmer with a tobacco stained grin. “Go on ahead n' git on up there.”

   As Lester climbed a wooden stairway that rose above the glass chambers, his brother was below; eagerly clamping a set of restraints around the slender parts of the woman’s legs…

   “This is fer 'yer own good,” Elmer said, as he locked Chrissy’s ankles in the padded cuffs. “We can’t have ya’ll thrashin' around in the air up thar, jest in case ye come too!  …Heck; ye jest might bruise yerself!”

   With that said, Elmer grabs the control wand and lets out the slack in the winch, until the meat hook rests on the floor . . .


   Elmer leans down with the hook in hand, to catch the chain that held the two restraints together. The redneck then presses the “elevate” button, and the coed’s legs begin to slowly raise up from the barn floor!

Wee…Neee…Neee…Wee...Neee…Neee…Wee…Neee…Neee…Wee…Neee…Neee . . .

   Elmer watched with devilish satisfaction, as Christina’s hips, torso and arms raised up little by little. The hillbilly steadied the female’s body as she finally arose into the air; stabilizing her along the way and even catching a good feel of her breasts, until she was finally beyond his own reach. The coed continued upward until she was well past the upper edge of the glass tank.    . . . With the controller still in hand, the guy releases his thumb from the “up” button and the poor girl jerks to an immediate stop.

   Christina’s body dangles upside down from the steel hook, looking as if she were some mad man’s perverse idea of a Raggedy Ann doll, (to which she surely bears some sort of resemblance). She was beginning to eerily rotate around in semi-circles now; first turning left, then to the right- as if offering an overall view of her nakedness to these men.  Her long, dark brown hair hung freely from her head, looking like streamers that were wavering in the breeze. The lines of her lovely nude body looked almost graceful now - perhaps made even more beautiful by the stark image of her swaying there helplessly, in the dim lighting of the barn.

   From the mezzanine above the tanks, Lester shouts to his brother, “Get 'er a little more to the right.”

   Elmer works the right-handed arrow button: Wee…Neee…Neee…Wee...Neee…Neee! 

   From his position above, Lester reaches out to steady the woman’s swaying form, guiding her along so that she’s lined up with the center of the cylinder. “Ok,” he says, before commanding, “Now lower her into the tank, but leave me enough room to unfasten that thar hook.”

Wee…Neee…Neee…Wee...Neee…Neee…Wee…Neee…Neee…Wee…Neee…Neee . . .

   Christina’s body slowly approaches the murky substance below, until her head finally penetrates the pool of liquid . . .

   “Keep going,” orders Lester.

   The defenseless female continued her descent into the murky substance, until just her ankles and feet were left showing.

   Lester yells, “Whoa, hold it!” to his brother, before bracing himself against a wooden railing. The man then extends a long wooden stick out over the railing, with a hook at the end. Using it as a lever, the hillbilly lifts the woman just enough to unclasp her restraints.

One latch pops open . . . and then the second one releases - immediately sending Chrissy off into the murky pool with a loud  *GA-LOOP!*

   From his position on the floor, Elmer watched with excitement as Christina’s body sank down to the bottom of the tank. The woman’s long black hair swirls around to hide her pretty facial features for a moment or two, as she settles within the substance.

   What happened next, was a bit disturbing . . .

   Christina stared out fixedly through the murky substance; frozen in the same pose that she’d been in for hours now, with her “O” shaped mouth locked in shock . . . But then one foot twitched . . . followed by a leg!  . . . The woman shudders before flinging out her right arm, followed by the left. Then her entire body arches back in a stretching motion, as if experiencing the bittersweet feeling of rebirth.   . . . Chrissy gulped a deep breath by mistake, before an expression of awful surprise spread across her face!  . . . The woman quickly glanced from side to side to take in her surroundings, before her eyes went wide in horror - The coed needed to take another breath, but couldn’t! The female’s first instinct was to scissor kick her legs to turn herself around, but she was only moving herself sideways!

   Lester looks on with excitement; captivated by the sheer drama of the event that’s unfolding down below. The redneck can see Chrissy’s actions and already knows what the woman is thinking . . . In a brazen act of cruelty, the bastard pushes the capsule’s hinged lid over, so that it slams shut with a loud  *KARRRANG!*

   Christina finally pumps herself into the right direction. The frightened woman manages to contort her body just enough to rotate herself around, before she swims towards the top. Once she’s there, the female attempts to push the chamber’s lid upward, but it’s far too heavy!

   From outside the chamber, Elmer teases, “Heh-heh; where ya' think 'yer goin' there sweetie pie? . . . Ya’ll aint gonna git that thar lid open!”

   Now in panic, Christina pounded at the sides of the enclosure; her palms and fingers smeared against the glass with each desperate thrust. The coed’s hips bucked and her legs kicked wildly, as her arms continued to thrash about in terror.    . . . Although her voice was somewhat muffled by the glass, the man standing before Chrissy could see her mouthing the words:   *blub-blub-blub* - Help me please! . . . Somebody let me out of here, I can’t breath!…    *blub-blub* - I’m begging you pleeeease help me! - *blub-blub-blub*

   It was then that Lester hollered down to his brother below, “Alright, I’m going to dump in the catalyst!”

   “Hang on a sec,” yells Elmer. “She’s jest startin' to wind-down.”

   Indeed, the young woman’s flailing motions were slowing down. What had originally started as a defiant struggle had now seemingly turned into a moment of near surrender. Christina’s arms had spanned out over her head for one last stroke towards the top, but now they were slowly retracting back to her shoulders . . . The desperate female gulped in several mouthfuls of the slurm, before she began to convulse in reaction.   

   Elmer encourages, “That’s right sweetie, suck it right up! - Heh-heh-heh!”

   Several air bubbles work their way out of Christina’s open lips, while her convulsions eventually slow to a mere twitch. As those bubbles wobble their way to the top of the tank, the “O” shape of Chrissy’s lips gradually draw back into a slack position. The helpless female finally comes to a complete rest, with her swaying dark hair being the only movement within the tank.   . . . The woman stares out with a look of contempt on her face, in one last act of defiance.

   Elmer waves at his brother and yells, “She’s all set, go on ahead!”

   From his position up on the mezzanine, Lester dumps several gallon jugs of catalyst into a large steel funnel. The funnel itself, is mounted to the platform, and it feeds the accelerant to the storage tank via the corrugated pipe that’s affixed to its side. The hillbilly then flipped the lid of the glass tank open, and dumped another two gallons of catalyst directly into the top. The foggy-grey substance flows and eddies throughout the holding tank, eventually showering over Christina’s nude and seemingly weightless form.   

   Lester braces himself against a wooden railing once again, before extending his long wooden stick out over the holding tank. This time, there was a “U” shaped tow hook, (like one would see mounted on the front of a 4X4 jeep), hanging from the end of the stick. The old man carefully lowers the hook, so that it’s long threaded ends where below the gooey surface, while the bowed portion was left up above.

   Christina floats painlessly within the fluid. The coed is suspended effortlessly by the substance’s thick viscosity; her long dark hair sways to and fro, while her limbs drift freely at the sides of her body. The few tiny bubbles of exhausted air that remain slowly seep out of the woman’s mouth, to frame the contours of her face.    . . . As the impending catalyst floats down around her form, it starts reacting with the polyurethane additive and the acrylate resin base. This chemical reaction causes the mixed substances to begin to swirl around within the tank, (much like a tab of Alka-Seltzer would in water). The gradual result effectively clouds over the glass, temporarily hiding the female’s form from view…

   From his position on the barn floor, Elmer continues to watch with bated breath:

. . . Sure I’d been first hand-witness to many of Lester’s experiments, but those usually involved formaldehyde . . . This here was totally different, thought the man. It was like my own brother was becomin' a gosh-danged rocket scientist or somethin'!

   Meanwhile, Christina continues to float in limbo; feeling as if she were sealed in some giant glass full of Crisco oil! The twenty-one-year-old thought that it was a rather awkward sensation, but welcomed it all the same:

. . . In my semi-conscious state, I acknowledged that my body was completely immersed and being caressed by this peculiar substance, I just couldn’t understand why it was doing this to me!   . . . It was as if this goo were somehow permeating every pore and follicle on my aroused body and compressing me in its warmth…The same tightening sensation was going on between my legs and within the crack of my ass and it was fucking fantastic! In fact; I found it hard to understand how I could feel so turned-on, and yet so lethargic at the same time!   . . . Anyway, there was no doubt: I was beginning to accept this newfound luxury of suspended euphoria!

   By now, Lester had come down from the mezzanine and joined his brother on the barn floor. The two men watched with anticipation, as the grayish fog began to settle. An entirely different version of Christina eventually came into view . . .

   “Heh-heh, she looks like a fly in amber!” observes Elmer.

   Lester adds, “Yeah, she’s stuck in thar pretty good, aint she! . . . Aint nothin' but a furnace or a blow torch would git her out now, I reckon!”

   By this point, even Christina’s flowing long hair had stopped from movement; it was now suspended in time and encircling her head, like some bizarre halo. The medium the coed was immersed in seemed to be congealing within the glass; trapping the young woman and her expelled air bubbles within its restrictive boundaries!

   Inside, Christina felt her cozy little shell tightening even more. The sloppy goo that was exploring the coed’s ass crack and massaging her pussy was now setting up and in effect-now penetrating her most tender areas!   . . . The young woman reflects:

. . . So here I am; restricted in this medium and confined by the glass that surrounded me… I even had this . . . this . . . Well whatever the hell this stuff is, now pressing up into me like a pair of plastic dildos! . . . But I honestly didn’t care at this point; my world was tranquil, serene, and probably as safe and comfortable as it ever could be . . . I suppose it would be like lying there in the womb.   . . . My only distracting connection to the outside world, were the distorted forms of the inbred bastards looking in at me! My eyes were permanently open to a world colored in clear acrylic now, and I only wish that I could somehow close them . . . Then I could welcome the darkness; I could be lulled to sleep by the humming white noise of this surrounding equipment that was either keeping me alive, or preventing me from living - I wasn’t quite sure at this point . . .

   Time . . . slowed . . . down, and I was expecting to see the proverbial “light at the end of the tunnel”…or at least the pictures of my life passing me by. But for some reason, neither came . . . There seemed to be no past, and I certainly don’t have much of a future from the looks of it! . . . There was nothing but the present; cooped up here in my cozy existence and naked for all the world to see . . . Well, maybe to be seen by these two jackasses in front of me anyway . . .

   And then, without warning, Christina’s psyche went blank!   . . . In one short instant time suddenly became meaningless. The young woman would no longer enjoy the luxurious pleasure of her frozen limbo. Not a single word would pass from Chrissy’s perfect lips, and she would no longer smile at the thought of a pleasant memory, or even laugh heartily at a clever joke. Just like the rest of her, the coed’s mind was now stuck in place, and she was lost forever . . .

   Lester Grimly had pictured the young woman being preserved in crystalline plastic from the very moment he saw her talking to that pickled shark at the general store. He imagined her exquisite form captured in her prime, unspoiled and unscathed for all eternity. Although she wound up in a solid block of acrylic resin, this Christina girl was going to make a perfect specimen for future tourists and scientists alike . . . I can almost see them now; puzzling over how she got in her little cube, with each and every visit! - Heh-heh-heh!

   Lester looks over to his brother and says, “Well, I 'spose we’ll have to move a few o' them figures 'round, if we’re gonna git this big ole block of acrylic in there, eh?”

   Elmer shifts his chaw around in his mouth, before spitting a wad at the floor. He then says, “Well, they aint gonna' get on up n' move themselves, let’s git 'er done!”

. . . As Christina awaits eternity in her acrylic tomb, the poor girl has no idea that she’s about to be added to a collection of another kind!


To Be Continued… taking a: Wrong Turn, Wrong Time

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