Chapter 8: ‘Boared’ to tears
Moulton was premature in mentioning “remains.” Ms. Americana and Flag Girl were
still alive — and in the strangest predicament either had ever found herself in.
They were in an underground chamber over 100 feet below the Garden. For reasons
she didn’t understand, Flag Girl was being treated as a goddess by the strange
creatures that dwelled in and beneath the Garden. She sat on an alabaster throne
on a low, circular stone platform, surrounded by a myriad of human-animal
hybrids. They murmured and chirped in what to Flag Girl sounded like adulatory
tones.
But MA, who had been captured by “Moulton’s monsters” soon after entering the
Garden, was enjoying no such exalted status. She had quickly been incapacitated
with fumes from an herb that grew only in the Garden. Then she was stripped and
carried to the torch-lit, underground chamber. There, she was held aloft by
dozens of hands, her arms and legs spread and her head and dark hair hanging
down. Thus she was presented to Flag Girl, like some sort of sacrificial
offering.
Flag Girl rose, stunned by the unexpected appearance of her mentor. She wanted
to rush to MA’s side, to embrace and protect her. But something held her back.
It was if the communal will of this band of monsters somehow controlled her
actions.
Instead of coming to MA’s aid, she merely nodded, as if giving assent to some
plan she and the group had earlier agreed on.
The chirps and murmurs became louder, and MA was passed from one group of
outstretched hands to another, until she reached an arched doorway, beyond which
the torchlight did not reach. Seven humans with pigs’ heads came out and carried
her through the doorway.
# # #
As MA regained consciousness, her first sensations were intensely stimulating.
Many tongues were licking her. Her entire body was being caressed by these soft,
wet, undulating instruments of pleasure. Gravity seemed to have disappeared. She
floated in the darkness. Her only contact with the environment was the licking
of this multitude of tongues. Her breaths became more rapid and shallow and
suddenly she came with a loud moan. The licking slowly ceased, and she lapsed
into a post-orgasmic torpor.
After a while, she was roused by an excited flurry of voices. MA somehow sensed
that the creatures the tongues belonged to had retreated — and that something
huge and monstrous had arrived.
She felt a massive body with coarse hair press against her belly and breasts.
Whatever it was had accomplices: Strong hands grabbed her ankles and pulled her
legs apart. Suddenly, a huge, wet phallus entered her. She screamed and tried to
wiggle free, but she was helpless. Gravity had returned, with a vengeance. She
felt as if a ton of bristle-covered flesh was crushing her, even as the beast’s
prick split her open.
Light appeared, the light of torches only a few feet from her. And now she got a
glimpse of what was raping her. It was a gigantic feral pig. And two of the
humans with pig heads held her ankles.
The beast on top of her humped vigorously, and she felt as if the force of its
thrusts would destroy her. Then it gave a mighty grunt and began to withdraw. As
it backed away, its saliva dripped on her belly and its semen on her legs. Its
head was massive and ugly. It was a prehistoric carnivore, a member of the pig
family but a hundred times more dangerous than any boar alive today. She tried
to turn onto her belly and crawl away, but the pig men still held her ankles,
and now they lifted her ass off the rocky floor so that her lower body was
exposed to the boar.
The porcine monster paused, considering its next move. Its sex urge had been
satisfied. Now another need, hunger, must be met. It lunged forward, and its
jaws closed on MA’s pelvis. The tusks of its lower jaw dug into her buttocks and
lower back, while the upper teeth sank into her belly. The pain was unbearable.
MA’s vision faded, and the voices of the freaks became but a distant hum.
# # #
“Is she dead? She must be dead.”
The voice sounded like Flag Girl’s, but the tone was curiously detached.
Someone chirped in response.
“I see. Well, this is a most curious mating ritual. The beast was on the verge
of biting her in half. Why spawn, if you’re going to destroy what carries your
offspring?”
More chirping, and now it almost sounded like laughter.
MA opened her eyes, and sunlight flooded in. She was lying on a balcony made of
pink stone. Flag Girl and several humans with animal heads stood around her.
“You’re awake,” said Flag Girl. “We were worried about you.”
We? Did she now identify with this flock of freaks?
MA tried to sit up, but a surge of pain sent her reeling back into
unconsciousness.
When she came to, she was inside one of the pink structures, and the light from
the window was fading.
“Be careful. Your abdominal muscles have been damaged,” Flag Girl said. “But the
oldest and wisest of the birdmen has examined you and found you sound. The baby
will survive, too.”
The baby! MA tried again to sit up, and again could not overcome the pain. She
lay still, breathing heavily.
Flag Girl came and knelt beside her. “The pig would have eaten you, if I hadn’t
arrived in time,” she said. “It has terrorized these creatures for years. They
were offering you as a sacrifice, to placate the beast.”
“Why didn’t it kill me?” MA whispered.
“I shot it with a crossbow. The bolt hit right between its eyes.”
“Where did you get a crossbow?” MA asked.
“It was dropped by a hunter at one of Moulton’s parties a few years ago. These
creatures, my friends, have treasured it as a religious icon but didn‘t know how
to use it. They are grateful I killed the pig. It had eaten many of them.”
“You can . . . . you can talk with these . . . .”
“Yes, I’m beginning to understand them. And I think they understand me. I don’t
know how. Their wise men said they have a legend that a child would come and
lead them. They think I am that child.”
Despite her pain and confusion, MA smiled. “You’re an awfully well-endowed
child.”
Flag Girl frowned. “You should be more respectful of me. I saved your life.”
“I’m sorry,” MA said softly.
Flag Girl’s face brightened. “And I killed Mr. Moulton. At least, I helped kill
him.”
MA forced herself to sit up. “What? When did this happen?”
“This morning. He came into the Garden, and the birdmen and the fishwoman and
the little people asked what they should do. I told them to capture him and
bring him to me. And they did. But he got overexcited when he saw me, and he
died.”
“Oh shit!” MA said. “Now they’ll come with guns and grenades and God-knows-what.
They’ll come and destroy this place. We’ve got to get out of here.”
“But where will we go?” Flag Girl cried. “Where can these creatures go? They’ll
be hunted and killed, or put in zoos. Or people like Bohner will do terrible
experiments on them.”
“You can’t save them,” MA said. “We’ve got to save ourselves. We’ve got to
escape before they come. Where is Moulton’s body?”
“We left it in the Garden — for the buzzards.”
“My God! Whatever possessed you . . . .” MA’s exclamation of surprise and
disgust was cut short by shouting outside, followed by gun fire. They rushed to
the window. MA had been right: Men with guns had arrived. They had already shot
two birdmen. Now they were headed toward the building from which MA and Flag
Girl were watching.
“We could give ourselves up,” said Flag Girl. “It’s us they want, not these
creatures.”
“You’re wrong,” said MA. “Moulton was their protector, but I heard others — that
security guard, Ludwig, and the fat one, Taggart — talk about how much they
hated the ‘freaks.’ They want to kill them all. And now they’ll want to kill us,
too. Or charge us with murder.”
“You forget, Brenda, they want to sell us as sex slaves. They won’t kill us.”
“So you’d rather end up a sex slave?”
Their quarrel was cut short by the sound of scuffling below. Then a shot was
fired, and they heard a strange sound. It was the dying call of a birdman.
Seconds later, the door burst open, and MA and Flag Girl found themselves facing
the shotguns of two of Moulton’s security guards.
“Put you hands behind your heads and turn around,” the bigger of the two guards
shouted. MA and Flag Girl did as commanded. Someone grabbed MA’s hands, pulled
them down behind her and snapped on handcuffs.
“Take her outside,” said the big guard. “I’ll be out shortly. Me and blondie are
going to have some fun first.”
Flag Girl spun around and assumed a martial arts position. “I warn you,” she
said. The guard laughed and smashed the butt of his gun into her face.
# # #
MA and Flag Girl were taken to the concrete-block building that served as
security headquarters. There they were beaten and repeatedly raped before being
hauled back to the mansion and dropped at Bohner’s feet.
“You girls look as though things have been going badly,” he said. “Well, get
used to it. Things are definitely going to go downhill from here. Mr. Moulton is
dead. I’m sure you already knew that. In fact, I plan to tell Commissioner
Stepford that you two planned his murder and used those freaks to carry it out.
What I’ve got to decide — along with Stepford and others who have a financial
stake in you — is whether to prosecute you or carry out our original plan.”
Flag Girl struggled to her knees and looked up at him. “What about the creatures
in the Garden?” she asked.
“Taggart’s men have killed every one they could find. There were fewer than we
expected. Taggart thinks they may have an underground bunker. You wouldn’t know
anything about that, would you?”
“No,” Flag Girl lied. Bohner looked down on her coldly, then kicked her in the
groin.
“I’m not sure you’re as dumb as you seem, but it really doesn’t make any
difference. Your pals, the birdbrains and the fishcunts, will soon be extinct.
And I suspect you will, too. If we decide to prosecute, you’ll end up in prison,
where a lot of 250-pound dykes will be delighted to see you. You put some of
them behind bars. I figure you two would be lucky to last a week.” Now it was MA
trying to get up. Bohner kicked her in the side, and she rolled over, groaning
in agony.
“The other option, awarding you to the highest bidder, would also probably be a
death sentence,” he continued. “Oh, the buyer wouldn’t kill you right away — not
after laying out millions for you. But eventually he, or she, would grow bored.
Sex slaves, even slaves as beautiful as you two, are, after all, only toys. And
we all know how children tire of their toys and love to smash them. My guess is
that you would be tortured for days, maybe weeks, then snuffed in front of movie
and video cameras. The film and tape would, of course, have excellent production
values and might fully recoup whatever was paid for you.”
Bohner had been so occupied with his grisly scenario that he had paid no
attention to his intended audience. Now, he looked down and sighed. Both women
were unconscious.
“What should we do with them, Doc?” Taggart asked.
“Well, it looks like you’ve already had quite a bit of fun at their expense. I
have no objections to gang rape, but I’m worried you and your boys will do
permanent damage. Flag Slut has a nasty bump on her forehead. I want to have a
look at that. After that, bring them upstairs. Tasher and I will take care of
them.”
Taggart thought this over, then said, “With all due respect, Doc, I think me and
boys will hold on to these girls. With Mr. Moulton dead and us not having
pensions or 401k plans, I figure these girls are our financial security.”
Now it was Bohner’s turn to do some thinking. He pursed his lips and rubbed his
chin. Taggart had men with guns. All he and Tasher had were hypodermics. The
imbalance of power was obvious.
“Of course,” said Bohner. “Do whatever you want with them, but remember, if you
kill or disfigure them, they’re worthless.”
“Sure, Doc,” said Taggart. “I understand. Me and the boys just want a piece of
the action. We’ll have our fun with them for a few days while you’re arranging
your auction, or whatever. Then you can draw up papers making us partners —
junior partners, so to speak. We don’t expect no more than, say, 10 or 15
percent of the gross.”
“Very reasonable,” said Bohner, “but I will, of course, have to consult the
other members of the syndicate. And Mr. Moulton’s estate will have to be
settled. I believe he intended to leave most of his wealth to the Clinic, but
we’ll have to wait until we see his final will. Then, of course, there will have
to be a coroner’s investigation. I suggest we all agree that he died peacefully,
the way he would have wanted — walking in his Garden.”
“Yeah, that sounds fine,” said Taggart. “You handle all that. We’ll make sure
our stories jibe. Meantime, we’ll keep the cunts.”
