Coils Of The Overkill

by Steve Hammond Kaye

  Sharmilla wanted to look away, but she couldn't. She hated what she liked and yet a big part of her knew that this was inevitable. He ushered her into a seat and started to loosen her clothing. She had been watching one devil, but another one had secured her shadow. She was damp for him and she hated herself for her negligence. Who would count the bodies now?

  EIGHT

  Light crept into the marquee rest-room. Sharmilla stirred and gradually came round. It was 07:09 and she had just started to piece together the last four hours. She remembered Troth's double-tongue referencing and his wandering hands. After that she had no recollection of what had taken place. She was still fully-clothed and no outward blemishes were on her body. She then remembered doing a line of cocaine and the body-count stats of the suicide sects. “Shit” she said out loud realising the full extent of mentally drifting on her watch. She raced to the rest-room entrance in a panic and a scene of devastation met her eyes.

  The Allgood Gathering was no longer a tidy site. Bodies lay all around in contorted states. The dead lay open-mouthed and all lustre had vanished from their eyes. The corpse of one dead White-Top had been decapitated and five Judas Silver-Trail members had met a similar fate. A few NADS were walking around, but many of their sect also lay dead. Sharmilla moved further into the site and she asked a White-Top what had prompted the large increase in deaths during the last four hours. His answer was very exact.

  “Excoriators! When people saw what damage those metal fuckers do, they panicked and a stampede-effect was created. A lot of these corpses were victims of the crush. The Gathering organisers just stood around laughing at the chaos. We live in sick times Miss!”

  With that remark he took his leave and Sharmilla went looking for the other MC-Project members.

  Thane Costa-Mendez and Jasmine had both been helping victims of the crush. They had both been surprised by Sharmilla's absence to a level, but Thane saw a pattern emerging and he made his views known.

  “She goes it alone too much Jas. It will be her undoing one day. I worry about it though, because Sane was showing a big interest in her and that is frightening.”

  Whilst the MC-Project regrouped, the body-counters set to work. They had orange numbers for the victims of the crush. These victims would be separated from the suicide sects due to the accidental nature of their deaths. Day two of the Allgood Gathering was aptly titled ‘picking up the pieces' - a very appropriate piece of vernacular in the context. The body-counters started to filter back reports that suggested the Jonestown cumulative death-toll figure was unlikely to be beaten. This was bad news for the media as they had over-hyped estimates for weeks and now their reporting would just come across as sensationalist blood-lust. Both Sane and Troth's suicide-locations were now 'shut for business' and the queues had now evaporated. The cumulative deaths showed a final result of Felo de Se 312 OBS 288. Jimmy Jones had an infamous record that would stay unbeaten as far as American casualties were concerned. The suicide-push would reconvene in Wisconsin in two weeks time. Thane sent a text of this result and he also asked her location. She in turn had noticed the suicide results and these had furthered her resolve to try and take either Sane or Troth out of the equation. She was still unsure about what had happened with Troth in the missing hours, but that slice of history would stay confined to the corridors of her mind. The right trigger may illicit memory on this occasion, or she could let her project colleagues probe her mind-sight. It was a little ironic that she herself, - the joint head of the MC-Project could be probed!

  She shivered a little and dismissed this idea. That, after all was her prerogative.

  The next couple of weeks were a form of preparation time for all concerned. Sharmilla was set on eradicating the devils and she had a plan to take out one of them. She anticipated that this would be her last act so as to speak, but she felt that she was expendable in such a context. As she drew on a line, she planned the end.

  Flambeau in Wisconsin was the venue for the next leg of the suicide-tour. When Sharmilla and Thane addressed the project cohort, all agreed that it was time to go on the attack against the satanic forces of oppression. In her key-line speech Sharmilla didn't mess around.

  “I have had enough of watching people wither and fall. We have tracked these fucking devils. We know that at least two of them are scum - the waste product of a depraved society. It is our duty to stop playing mind exploration games and wipe these fuckers out.”

  Her joint project leader then spoke from the shadows.

  “Nice equalisation-sentiments Sharmilla, but how exactly do you propose to do that? I mean, security collect all our guns and blades before each event. What are you going to do - wish them dead!”

  “Alright, you can turn off the sarcasm Thane. I have a way to remove one of them. Exactly which one will depend on their movements really, because I cannot forecast which one of them will make advances to me in Wisconsin.”

  Thane became indignant.

  “Advances! - what the fuck are you on about Sharmilla? This sounds like Jane-fucking-Austen to me!”

  “No need to get so fucking heated Thane. Wait and see - some things are best kept hidden.”

  “So you keep on, but I guess that you should open up more woman, ‘cos people are dying on our watch.”

  She did not reveal any more details surrounding her plan though. She would not be drawn any further.

  Flambeau was seeing a lot of snow that year and gatherings were moved inside to counteract the adverse effects of the weather. Wisconsin would be a battleground where some could fall on their own sword. That was the one inevitable factor.

  Both brothers spotted Sharmilla as soon as she arrived on site. There were several bars and this is where Sharmilla tracked Sane down. She did not make the first verbal move, because she knew that he would...

  ...sure enough.

  ''My curiosity never ebbs for you Sharmilla. I wish to go further in our liaison as I am sure you do.”

  She left things open.

  “That's a maybe.”

  With that he gently took her by the forearm and spun her round to face him. He flicked out one tongue to illicit a response and she made eyes at him with a succumbed gesture. He led her away as she hoped he would. In his chamber, things had been made ready and he led the verbal exchanges again.

  “I guess at times an adjunct is worthy of attraction. You are an adjunct Sharmilla - what can you offer?”

  Sharmilla made her move.

  “Are you as good as your brother?”

  With that line, Sane rose to his full height and Sharmilla parted her legs to accept entry. Her vagina was moist, not through attraction, but through necessity. Her plan needed things to be lubricated from the outset. There was no more small-talk and Sane moved the woman, like it was the first time. Then he pounced on her and drove into her vagina with an animalistic ferocity that revealed his true nature. He pummelled into her as though she was taboo - a veritable form of de-marked access. She was his and he would claim her. Then her previous- comparative words excited him still further and he cursed the woman under his stale breath as he tore into her. As he thought of his brother claiming her first he hammered her vulva, she wrapped her legs around him to deepen his entry still further and then his bleeding started. With a final stroke the drips became a profusion and blood splattered across the ornate bed sheets. Then he realised that the would-be hymen was an inserted razor and nausea took hold of him. More and more blood flowed, dripping from the bed linen in a scarlet cascade. He then screamed with rage and dug his satanic claws into the brave MC-Project martyr.

  His acidic blood burnt into her belly and she started to die with satisfaction etched on her face. He then withdrew, but it was too late. There had been too much blood loss, too much red. In a vain effort, he screamed for his brother and he proceeded to punch Sharmilla's body with fury. She had beaten him and he died knowing it. Unlike his father, alone in Norway, Sane would not outlive his victim in this instance. Sane died spitting his
blood across our heroine's face.

  Lightning crackled across the sky in a vibrant satanic send-off. Jagged forks tore into woodland and scorched the land with direct hits. As Sane died, scales started to cover his face. He headed for his grave not as a man, but as his true form. Both tongues now fell limp from his putrid mouth. A deathly odour consumed him and then he was no more.

  NINE

  Troth had heard his brother's scream of rage. As the elements started to change, he knew that Sane was dead. He was incapable of feeling any remorse and viewed the death in cold, matter of fact terms. Now there were just two brothers to continue his father's legacy. Over the last sixteen years Troth had relished scattering his bad seed across America. He loved his first-born status and the extra physical strength that came with it. He may have lacked the mesmerising hypnotic powers of Sane, but he and Scope shared a dominance in securing women. Impregnating women was thus the central factor behind his creation. In this respect, he served his dark master very well.

  As a wanderer, Troth wasn't tied to one place for any great length of time. He would arrive, mingle, rape or impregnate. When the latter category was achieved, he would quickly be on his way.

  Due to his immense physical strength, he often gained employment in the farming industry. If the weather became inclement he would leave the fields, undertake building jobs and work inside. His good looks ensured that he had a regular supply of women on his travels and that double-tongue was particularly sought after! Usually Troth travelled America as a loner and that often aroused suspicion in the communities that he visited. At times he had to fight his way out of a town with angry residents following him to the state border. His closest call thus far had occurred seven years hence in Oregon. He had quickly risen to the status of Chief farm-hand and had been given a converted hay-barn for his working residence. The local women soon learnt of his locale and his expertise in sexual conquests became the talk of the town. The woman that he fucked most was a twenty-seven year old called Maria. Her white-blond hair and pert lips set her apart from most of the others and some of the locals wondered if she and Troth would wed one day. They had reckoned without Troth though. He wanted to double-fuck both Maria and her younger nineteen year old sister Elisa. When he had first broached this subject to Maria she had refused outright, but over time and during a sustained period of bad weather (light snow in this case), things changed. When he received a text from Maria with an affirmative message, he smiled and threw another log on the open fire in readiness for the arrival of the sisters. There was no building work scheduled for him that day and nothing to do, but fuck really. A light knock on the door signified the arrival of his quarry. The lose robe that he wore did nothing to disguise the huge bulk emanating from his genital area. Both his tongues flickered across his lips as he turned the handle. Troth then ushered both women over the threshold and now they were his!

  Maria bristled with sexual confidence as she had been one of Troth's women for some time. Elisa was less assured, being a bit nervous. Anticipation had both of them locked in a state of willing subservience. Whatever he wanted, they would do. Now it was just a case of waiting for his orders of the day.

  Troth was also a little apprehensive though. He had a surprise for his visitors that he hadn't tried before. He made sure that the women each had a glass of wine and that both of them had a comfortable seat by the real fire. He announced his intentions to the women, speaking in a softer voice than usual - a beguiling trick that often worked for him.

  “Girls you both look radiant. Thank you for sharing my fantasy on this bitterly cold day. I have been dying to consummate our attraction for each other in a threesome and I have a couple of surprises that I am sure you will like.”

  With that he dropped his robe to the floor and then smiled at the audible gasps from the sisters when he revealed his double-penis! Troth added a commentary to their view.

  “Our sex has always been good Maria, but I chose to retract my second penis thus far. I thought a double-fuck will be a real celebration. You can ride me like a fairground attraction if you like! Symmetry will be our key here. We will release the two embedded full-length wall mirrors initially and you will stand naked in front of them, facing each other. I will sit on the floor between you. When I see your naked svelte frames, each penis will grow beyond your comprehension. Then upon my command, one of you will straddle my left-aligned phallus and the other will do the same thing with my right-aligned penis. Then we will enjoy the rhythm of our locked-in symmetry. Once we are in position, the generated sensuality will take over and our mutual satisfaction will be the outcome. It is now time to lose your clothing girls because I know that you are wet from my words. It is time to breed women of Troth.”

  The sisters stripped down in an almost choreographed motion and threw their clothing to the far wall. Troth watched them do this and both of his genital organs reached a state of erection. As Troth stood up, each woman grabbed an erect penis and rubbed it across their lips like it was a savoured morsel. As they did this, Troth placed one left hand digit up the vagina of Elisa and one right hand digit up the anus of Maria. Then he asked the sisters to kiss each other and they exchanged tongues with a feverish appetite. They needed no coaxing and their familiarity with each others mouths, showed that this wasn't their first time. If Armageddon was coming, these sisters didn't care!

  As Troth finger-fucked his two women into a state of sexual frenzy, each of them came, with their long nails digging into the veins of their chosen penis. Troth was now nearly ready to take his women and he lubed up both his cocks as he prepared for entry. He had fucked over three hundred women in his time and yet each of them was still a savoured experience.

  As he entered Elisa he marvelled at the tightness of her vagina and when he entered Maria, her pierced labia sent spasms through his manhood. Then the rocking-copulation began in earnest. With Troth deep in each woman, he pulled them down onto his thighs - the left thigh for Elisa and the right one for Maria. As each woman became more lubricated from his skilful stroke-play, hoarse groans emanated from the pair, with Elisa squealing the most. Each woman then rode her selected phallus into a state of ecstasy. Troth had wanted to cum simultaneously up both women, but he soon sensed that Elisa's tighter vagina would speed things up on her side.

  This proved to be the case, although Troth's second phallus shot semen up Maria's vagina not long afterwards. The first ejaculation had prompted screams of utter joy and Maria had echoed her sister's fulfilment, if not quite matching her wild abandon. The three of them sank to the floor in a sleep of contented serenity.

  Troth slept with the naked flesh of his women acting as a cocoon of warmth for his plated satanic skin. The contented breathing of all three of them continued the synchronicity of their lovemaking. The sleepers drifted for a couple of hours, until a bullet smashed through an upstairs window. Troth was up in seconds and he yelled out some instructions to the women.

  “Stay on the floor girls. The shooters will make themselves known. I get some jealous fuckers sometimes. Just you wait and see.”

  Sure enough, after eight minutes of waiting, a voice through a megaphone issued an ultimatum.

  “Some of us are fucking sick of you Mr Double-Tongue. We hate you fucking about with our women. Leave the girls inside and come out and face us - if you dare!”

  Troth gazed out of the netted curtains. There were about twenty of them - he made plans to even the odds. He proceeded towards the stairs and in the hall cupboard, he took out a bouquet of mixed shrapnel parts and a mid-distance grenade of Korean origin. He then loaded his Beretta and placed a Semtex-timed charge in the kitchen. These were just precautions - he might not need them. He rolled a makeshift funnel from a Venetian blind and shouted back his reply.

  “The girls must leave first. You'll have your parlance with me then. I guess that you guys ain’t going to have things any other way - are you?”

  His question remained unanswered as he thought it would. The girls had tears
in their eyes as they prepared to leave. Elisa asked one question of her new-found lover.

  “Is that it Troth. Are those bastards gonna kill you?”

  “They'll try and fail as usual, but you two must keep travelling away from here because only my true colours will get me out of this one and you don't want to be around to witness that - trust me! Once I select my second-skin I won't know who I am killing, so you are best kept away. I fired well - I know it - you are both pregnant. I know things that others cannot see. You will never see me again.”

  With that line Troth opened the door and ushered the women out. The waiting boyfriends drew nearer the barn ready to collect their women, plotting their one-sided revenge as they walked.

  Troth laughed to himself. He knew that when a couple of them gained enough courage, they would come and storm the front door. That just charged up his adrenalin still further. His second skin started to kick in and he felt the epidermal changes taking place. He rose upward to his full height, all three metres of it and scales started to replace the flesh on his body. His eyes became over-sized reptilian slivers and his jaws trebled in size. His eye-teeth became protracted fangs and his hands were now claw-based replacements. He had a forked tail that mirrored his forked tongues and although he had never met his father Klue, he was a carbon copy of that ultimate beast.

  He moved towards the door as eager hands forced an entry. In a demon rage he sprang at the intruders. It was playtime.

  Claws ripped out the windpipe of the ringleader and the forked-tail spun round simultaneously to decapitate the second in command. The posse then started to open fire, but Troth's plated skin was too tough to be penetrated. A third man was executed via a fang-bite across his face and another died when his spleen was ripped out of his body. Troth directed acidic spittle into the eyes of some other intruders and he broke the skull of his biggest opponent with a head butt that rendered brain-death in an instant. The others ran or crawled away. The women sat transfixed in an intruder vehicle with satanic semen festering in their wombs. They both looked at each other - just wondering.