The following story is a purely fictional account. Any relationship to any real person
living or dead is absolutely coincidental. The narrative deals with torture and
slaughter of innocent human beings. The author in no way condones or promotes
such acts. This is the world of fantasy and fiction where the hidden corners of the
psyche may be explored. The author believes that exploring such subject matter in
this realm keeps it from ever needing to be explored, and much less fulfilled, in real
life. There is violence in all of us. Otherwise there would be no crime, no war, no
destruction. We must acknowledge the beast inside of us if we are to tame it. To
ignore it and repress it is to invoke its appearance in our midst. 


					Killing Spree
				    (The Becoming, Part II)

1.

	Reddish sunlight streaked in through the cracks between the dirt-streaked
slats in the old venetian blinds.
	Dan the Knife Man lay on the floor of the shed.
	Power tools hung on hooks from the wall.  A lawnmower covered with a
black plastic tarp sat in a corner.  Plastic bags of fertilizer and Quik-Lite charcoal
leaned against the wood panel walls.  Old sprinklers, a tricycle, parts of an old
swing set, a girl's bicycle missing its wheels, loops of garden hose, coils of wire,
rakes, shovels, an axe, a pick, several tool boxes surrounded the naked sleeping
man.
	The sun woke him slowly.  He smelled the strong musk of his own body and
peering down at himself he saw he was covered with blood and mud.  
	At first his mind was blank and then he remembered a little girl screaming,
ripped apart on the wooden cross and his cock boomed responsively.
	Cassie Holliday, he thought smiling.
	I killed her real nice.
	I ate her.
	I - the Lizard Man. 
	But he was no longer the Lizard Man.
	His skin was all too human in its pink vulnerability.  And his hands and feet
were no longer claws.
	Vague dreamlike images came and went.  A moonlit clearing in the patch
of forest near the swamp - a tremulous brook - leaning down to drink the cold
water - sparkling stars reflected on its surface - a slick strand of little girl guts sliding
off his chest and into the bubbling stream. And then, much later, the lights of the
suburban neighborhood on the edge of the forest floating in the dark as he moved
closer.
	He knew he must have wandered in the swamp most of the night. Weary
and needing rest he vaguely remembered crawling up out of the tall grass and up to
this shed behind a large two-floor suburban home. The shed door was unlocked and
he'd slithered into the small structure. There he had fallen asleep just like an animal,
on the floor, reeking of blood, sweat and dankness - 
	Had he still been the Lizard Man then - upon falling asleep? Or just a man
again - Dan the Knife Man exhausted from long hours of sexual butchery?   Then
he remembered his truck left back at the rented warehouse where he'd killed the
little Cassie slut.  He would have to go back there and get it - he would have to
dispose of the savaged body before anybody found it -  But could he even find his
way back through the patch of swamp and forest? And what if someone spotted
him and called in law enforcement.  
	As the Lizard Man he'd thought himself beyond the law - now human again
his preoccupation with survival and evasion returned.
	Slowly he got up on his haunches, reached up and parted two slats of the
old blind to peer at the house. For the moment his worries about his truck and the
police faded.  
	He saw movement in what appeared to be the kitchen window of the house,
directly across from the shed - a blonde woman moving about in a robe.
	The shed was about fifteen yards from the house and from the window
Dan could see the driveway on the side of the home.  A BMW and a
Lexus SUV were parked there.
	His eyes trailed back to the woman in the kitchen. 
	Lizard Man sure knew how to pick a prime hiding spot, he thought, ogling
the attractive female.
	He heard voices in the house.  A man moved past the window.
	A few moments later the man left the house through a side door and got into
the BMW.  The woman in the robe stood in the doorway watching him go.
	Dan the Knife Man involuntarily salivated and his cock, already stiff
with morning energy and the memory of the child-killing, now arched full
and stone-hard.
	Oh yeahh - Lizard Man's instincts were most definitely to be trusted.
	The blonde woman who stood at the doorway was about five foot seven.
She had a quiet domesticated look about her, serene and intelligent, still youthful
though probably past thirty.  Her wispy hair moved in the breeze as
the man backed the BMW out of the driveway and on to the street.  He waved
to the woman as he drove off. 
	Dan watched her step out on the driveway in her bare feet.
	He could see her toenails painted dark-cherry red.
	But what Dan liked most of all was the way the white terrycloth robe swelled
out in front.
	The bitch was pregnant.
	Then, a child's voice suddenly called from the house.
	The woman replied and moved back inside.
	Through the window Dan saw the little girl, blonde and blue-eyed like the
robed female, with a cute pixie face.  The child was naked except for a tiny pair of
bright red panties.
	"Get dressed. Now!" Dan heard mom shout and saw the little one
scamper away.
	"Jesus," Dan muttered.  He was breathing fast and he was rock hard already
slowly stroking himself in preparation. This was too fucking good to be true.
	He was about to make his move when he saw the teenager.
	She glided to the kitchen window and paused there drinking a 
glass of orange juice and looking out.  She seemed to stare right in Dan's direction
and he backed up into the shed's shadows a bit, his bare feet shuffling against the
dirt floor as he allowed the gap in the blinds to close slightly.  He realized she
couldn't see him and he stared back fascinated.
	The little wench was maybe fourteen, with long auburn hair to her shoulders.
She was wearing a t-shirt and Dan could see how the white fabric stretched under
her firm youthful breasts.  She had lovely blue eyes, like mom and little sis, angel-
like and intense - and god bless her - freckles - a light smattering of them like drops
of chocolate milk on her nose and cheeks.... He watched her moving to a beat and
thought music might be playing in the house though he couldn't hear it - then he
saw she was wearing a tiny pair of walkman headphones. 
	Dan stroked himself harder and licked his lips. His balls were swollen and hot.
	Then mom moved past the window again and the teenager was gone.
	Dan knew he'd have to move fast if he was going to get what his cock
was demanding.  The family in the house was getting ready for the weekday
routine. Kids to school. Mom to work or to the mall or on some other housewife
errand. Or maybe the bitch worked. There was no way of knowing.
	Just inside the shed, by the doorway, Dan saw the baseball bat.  It was a small
junior-leaguer bat - maybe the teenager had once been in a girl's softball team - or
maybe it belonged to dad - It was old and cracked but when he picked it up he
knew it would do.  It was a piece of heavy deadly wood - just what he fucking
needed.  
	Warily, he stepped out of the shed, weapon in hand, and moved toward the
house.
	The grass was moist with morning dew under his bare feet.
	The next home over, the neighboring property, was half a block away and
hidden behind a vine-covered brick wall.  Dan realized no one would be able to
see him as he sneaked across the yard.  Lithely, he moved through the dissipating
morning mist that hovered over the wet lawn and approached the house, the  junior
league bat gripped menacingly in his left hand.
	Boldly, he put his free hand on the door knob and tested it.
	It was unlocked.
	Grinning silently he slid inside and closed the door behind him.
	The clock in the kitchen marked six thirty five as the
naked stranger with the bat moved past leaving smudged wet foot prints
on the spanish-tiled floor.
	


2.
	Maggie Weylan waved her husband off.
	She stood for a moment in the driveway enjoying the cool morning air, the
concrete cool beneath the tender soles of her feet.
	Then she heard Talia calling out insistently.
	What now? she thought to herself.
	She stepped back into the kitchen.
	Talia was running around in a pair of bright red panties.
	"Mom! Mom!" the five year old called breathlessly. "Uhm - Wanda
Rothstein asked  if I could sleep over tonight - oh please? Please? Can I?  Her
mom's gonna take us to McDonald's and then we're gonna play video games and
then -"
	"Ged dressed, NOW!" Maggie said loudly stopping her daughter short.
	A look of disappointment fell over Talia's cute face.
	"We'll talk about it this afternoon," Maggie said as the child ran up the stairs.
	Sandra sat at the breakfast table, the MP3 player's headset around the top of
her head.  She was moving to the music, her eyes blank.
	"Let's go," Maggie told her. "Finish your juice and get DRESSED!  Do I
have to go through all this routine with you girls every single morning?"
	Sandra rolled her eyes and got up.  She stood in front of the window for a
few minutes mindlessly looking out into the back yard, bopping to the music, and
finishing her juice - then finally she put the empty glass in the sink and followed her
sister upstairs.
	Maggie started to go up and hesitated for a moment as the baby kicked
inside her belly.  She smiled wistfully, tilted her head, opened her terrycloth robe
and cradled her big smooth belly in both hands.
	Just two more months,' she thought. Two more months and there'll be
three to worry about instead of two.'
	Then she heard the back door.
	It was probably Jim.  She wondered what he'd forgotten this time.  That man
would lose his head if it wasn't attached.
	She turned to go back toward the kitchen when she saw the naked intruder
with the bat.
	He was covered with reddish slime.  His hair was tangled and muddy.
	She started to cry out, frozen for a brief moment, her robe hanging open
then she saw him swing the weapon and couldn't move out of the way fast enough.
	The top of the bat slammed into her head and sent her flying sideways into
the hall closet door with a choked grunt, spinning down to the floor, her limbs
weak and tangled.  Then it slammed into her again, into the middle of her back
and she gasp-grunted and went down.
	She lay on the carpet almost out but still aware enough to feel the intruder's
strong hands on her, ripping the robe away, pawing her breasts and moving over
her big pregnant belly, his hard thumb pressing into the dimple of her belly button,
his calloused palms sweeping down between her thighs.
	"Nice," she heard him whisper.  "Real fuckin' nice."
	Then she felt his hard lips smearing against hers and his tongue prying into
her mouth.
	The awful smell of him invaded her.
	And then she felt nothing more.

	Upstairs, Sandra was still listening to hip-hop on her headset, standing
naked by the bed trying to figure out what to wear.
	She felt the headset being snatched from her head and turned around
expecting to see her mom.
	"Heyy!" she shouted.
	Then as she spun about her eyes went wide.
	"Trick or treat," Dan the Knife Man said and swung the bat.
	He caught the luscious teenage girl across her belly before she could scream
sending her reeling back on to the bed winded, her eyes bulging.
	As she fell on to the toussled sheets he swung again across her knees.
	Beating mom with the bat downstairs had put him in a nasty mood.
	Sandra gave out a whimpering yelp and sat up clutching her legs.
	Heartlessly he slammed the bat down across the back of her head and
she collapsed unconscious on the rug at his feet.
	He kicked her on her back and studied her.
	Blood trickled from her left nostril.
	"Shit, yeahh," he said softly. "This is gonna be fuckin' great."
	It was time to take the little one down.
	He moved quickly back out on the hallway.
	He heard the water running in the bathroom.
	He rapped on the door noisily.
	"I'm not done yet," the child said impatiently.
	He rapped again.
	"I said I'm not done yet SAN-DY!"
	He waited a moment and tapped the handle of the bat against the door.
	"Are you DEAF!?" the child whined and she opened the door
a crack.
	Dan pushed his way into the bathroom and grabbed Talia by her hair.
	The horrified nude child tried to pull away from him as he
dragged her out into the hallway.  She was wet from the shower, slick,
her blonde hair sticking to her face and shoulders which were dimpled with beads
of moisture.
	"Let go! LET ME GO!" she screeched.
	He pulled her into the master bedroom tossed her up against the wall and
swung the bat at her legs.  The weapon thumped into her thighs and she
screeched and bent forward and fell to her knees.  He thrust the top of the bat into
her belly slamming her back against the wall and holding her there.
	She was sobbing hysterically.
	"No! NOO!"
	"SHUT UP!" he shouted.
	She continued to scream until he slapped her face three times, then head-
punched her savagely.
	He seized her by the neck and dropped the bat grabbing her throat in both
hands, lifting her up off her knees, squeezing the breath out of her.
	"Listen up, you little shit," he growled. "I'm gonna stick the bat up your
stinking little peepee, alright? When I let go of your throat you get up on that bed
and spread your little legs wide open for me and you lie there and take it.  And if I
hear as much as a single word out of you I'll kill you and mom and sis - you got
that? Huh? You got it?"
	"GHh -ghh" she grunted nodding quickly.
	He half dragged her to the bed and let her go.
	She leaned weakly against the footboard.
	"Where's momma? Where's Sandy?"
	A trickle of blood moved down her chin from her puffy lower lip.
	"Never you mind that now.  You get up on that fuckin' bed, girl and you do
what I told you to do."
	"Please, mister."
	"Shut the fuck up and do it. I'm not waitin' on you all day."
	Dan the Knife Man enjoyed the hopeless look on little five year old Talia's
bruised face as she crawled up on the mattress, wet and slippery from her
interrupted bath.
	He hovered over her as she spread her legs.
	She turned her head against the sheets and shut her eyes.
	"Oh no," he said. "I want you looking right at me, you little tramp....LOOK
AT ME!"
	As she turned her glimmering tear-filled eyes to him he put the bat up to her
hairless little slit.
	"Spread em wide, little girl," he said rubbing the top of the bat on her
wet belly. "Spread your pussy open with your fingers - mmmm - that's it -
wide as you can get it - yeahhh - such a pretty little hole - so small - I'm gonna fill it
up for you, sweetiepie - fill it up good - spread it WIDE goddamn you!"
	He let her wait there for a few moments, her lanky legs up in the air, wet
feet pointing at the ceiling as she began to sob then he smiled and drew back -
	She screamed at the top of her lungs as he slammed the top of the bat into
the dark pink-red aperture of her cunthole.  Snarling he plunged it into her as
far as he could, which wasn't very far, before yanking it out and thrusting it
in again.
	"Keep it open for me, you stinking little whore - KEEP IT WIDE OPEN!"
	He ripped her immature sexhole open forcing nearly a half inch of splintery
batwood into her before she kicked out, pushed away and leaped off the bed.
	He caught up to her at the door as she tried to run past him.
	Grabbing her by her arm he spun her around and swung the bat across
the back of her knees.  She fell forward with a shrill squeal and he stepped forward
as she got up to a sitting position he swung the bat into her forehead.
	The blow lifted her bodily into the air and sent her flying across the room into
the dresser where she lay, at first spasming and jerking then finally still.
	Lifting her easily into his arms he dropped her back on the bed and spread
her wide open.
	He got up on the bed with her, kneeling between her wide-flung legs.
	Slowly stroking himself he stared down at the motionless child.
	A dark swelling bruise marred her temple but her chest rose and fell as she
breathed weakly so he knew he hadn't killed her.
	A wave of dark meanness swept through him.
	He grabbed her small thighs and pulled her legs back then putting his
cock to her already bleeding sexhole he thrust himself into her.
	The mattress squeaked rythymically under him as he pounded Talia into
it. Her little feet dangled lifelessly over her face. The sight of the ugly bruises the bat
had left on the back of her legs and on her blonde head spurred him on. He fucked
her pitilessly half-expecting the strange transformation to begin at any moment -
awaiting the arrival of the odd tingling sensations that would signal the return of
Lizard Man - but instead he found himself driving on toward simple human pleasure
with the limp wet child on the end of his blood-gorged cock.  He leaned down to
sink his teeth into her arms and shoulders.  She tasted fresh and clean.  He could
smell the shower gel still on her. 
	Cassie Holliday had tasted of cinnammon and lilies - this little bitch tasted
sweeter - creamier - 
	He went right to the edge of orgasm but kept himself from cumming inside
her although his balls tightened up and sweet spasms ran up his cockshaft.  He
wanted to maintain control - he needed to get all he could get from this
little suburban family - Maybe Lizard Man would make a surprise appearance later,
a dramatic return, when things were really well under way.
	He pulled his cock out of Talia - it was smeared with her virgin blood.
He moved up on the bed over her and wiped it on her pretty face.
	It was going to be nice to kill this little pup, he thought wickedly.
	Oh yeahh - extremely fucking nice.

	

3.

	By seven thirty Dan had the three females in the master bedroom.  
	He wouldn't have a lot of time with them.  He knew phone calls
would be starting soon - calls from school and from the office, from teachers,
friends, hubby and Christ knew who the fuck else, and it wouldn't take long for
others to figure out something was wrong in the Weylan household.
	The killer knew he'd have to be gone long before nightfall and he'd have
to find his way back through the swamp to the warehouse where Lizard
Man had slaughtered the little girl the day before.  Perhaps the pleasure that lay
ahead of him now would jolt Lizard Man into existence and he would be able to
remember his way back through the forest and marsh grass.
	Dan had moved quickly before his victims could recover consciousness.
	He remembered the tools he'd seen in the shed outside and he'd gone out
there and gotten some of them. He also found a box of eyelet hooks and rope and a
couple of electrical extensions.  In a corner of the shed there were several wooden
dowels of varying thickness.  There were enough items to provide a full day of
bitch-torture- just as many if not more than if he had provided the punishment tools
himself.  There was rope and wire and work tools of all kinds.  There were lots of
things to hurt the three lovely female bodies with.  It was play time for Dan the
Knife Man. 
	Sweet play time.
	With the electrical drill he made holes in the ceiling beams through the sheet
rock and screwed in the rusty eyelet hooks. He suspended Maggie and her two
daughters from the hooks by their rope-bound wrists.  Nude and unconscious, torn
panties shoved in their mouths and duct tape wound around their heads keeping the
makeshift gags in place, the inert pregnant female and her two children were an
incredibly arousing sight for the savage killer and he stroked his massive erection as
he moved from one victim to the other binding their ankles tightly together, making
sure the ropes cut unyieldingly into their limbs.  He hung Maggie near the king
sized bed, in the center of the large room and the two children on either side of the
doorway into the master bathroom.
	By the time he finished, the pregnant bitch was coming around, moaning
and tugging against the suspension ropes, wincing with discomfort.  A purplish
swelling bump on the side of her head and a darker bruise on her lower back
marked the spots where he'd slammed her with the bat.  The children too bore
the obvious evidence of his savage assault - Talia's little pussy still dribbling blood
from the crude penetration, head and legs bruise-banged - Sandra's legs and belly
and forehead streaked with ugly contusions. 
	Dan had tied up Maggie Weylan so that she would face her children and as
she came too he watched with pleasure as her eyes went wide with horror.
	"Morning, mom," Dan growled, a sick smile playing on his face.  "Welcome
to the last day of your fucking life."
	"Nghhaaagg!" Maggie groaned, grimacing with pain, shaking her blonde
head.
	Earlier, after Dan had brought the stuff from the shed into the house he'd
moved from room to room looking for phones. He'd collected six cellulars and
four wireless units and he'd left only one phone on in the house, a wireless he'd
taken from Maggie's office and which now lay on the floor beside the pile
of junk from the shed.
	Maggie Weylan's office had betrayed much about the pregnant, inobtrusively
pretty woman of the house.  She was thirty four, Dan found out and this was
her second marriage.
	He had studied the diplomas mounted in glass frames on the walls.  The room
was lined with bookshelves on three walls and there was a large mahogany
desk with a computer on it in the center of the room.
	Margaret Louise Weylan, Dan learned, the pregnant mom now in his
posession, the one he'd brought down with the junior-league bat,  had a Ph.D. in
psychology.
	Fucking bitch was a top-of-the-line shrink.
	This struck the Knife Man as humorous as he'd climbed the stairs to the
master bedroom.
	Maggie Weylan was gonna get a good lesson in the psychology of sexual
violence today, Dan thought - yeahh - a one-day seminar on the fury of the alpha
male predator.
	Now he stared at her as she came to and she looked back, her eyes
full of terror.
	"University of Miami -" he said softly. "I'm impressed Margaret."
	He stroked himself in front of her and delighted in the obvious fear and
disgust he was causing her.
	"Very fucking impressed."
	"Ghhppp - ngha - ahhrmm -" she babbled.
	"Don't try to talk bitch. Its useless. You're gagged - and anyway nothing
you say is gonna make the least fucking bit of difference to me here today."
	He waited a moment and then delivered the words slowly, pronouncing
clearly so she would understand, looking right into her clear sky-blue pupils.
	"I'm going to rape and torture you and your daughters - all three of you -
and then I'm going to kill all of you."
	Maggie gave out emotionally.  Her eyes welled up with tears and her head
tilted to the right and she sobbed into the gag and shook her head imploringly.
	" - unless - well - unless you find a way to help me with my - problems,"
Dan added teasingly.  "Maybe things'll turn out differently. Who knows - maybe a
trained psychiatrist can help  me sort out the reasons I do this shit...right?  Right
bitch?"
	He looked her up and down letting his eyes roam over her naked pregnant
body beautiful and helplessly suspended before him.
	"And then maybe I'll stop doing it - right?"
	She was a fetching sight, naked, up on her toes, arms pulled high above her
blonde head, belly roundly swollen.  Dan loved the tone of her skin - a kind of
light tan color, like the crisp caramel surface of flan.
	Gently he stroked her cheek with his knuckles.
	"Maybe if you help me with my psychiatric problems you'll get out of this
alive, Margaret, you and your little girls - can I call you Maggie?" he proposed
softly, smiling, enjoying the effect his lie was having on his  gagged captive. She
nodded slowly, wide-eyed with terror.
	"If you can figure it all out for me Maggie - maybe you and your babies
will walk out of here today in one piece -"
	And if you believe that, he thought to himself studying her reactions, then
you're not as smart as all those fancy degrees on the wall downstairs say you are.
	Behind him he heard a mewling groan and he turned to see that Sandra
was regaining consciousness, not yet fully aware of what was happening but 
already tugging against the restraining ropes at her wrists and ankles.  The five
year old Talia still hung motionless, though her ribcage still rose and fell evenly as
she breathed.
	"Don't worry about them," he told Maggie his eyes coming back to hers.
"Worse case scenario might be your babies got brain damaged - no big deal.  I love
to fuck half-dead pussy, Maggie. No shit. Retarded, half-dead, fucked-up baby
cuntmeat's the best."
	He stroked himself and studied her witless horror calmly and then he said.
	"You know I was a fucking lawyer. Yeah. That's right. Me. Yale Law School. 
Can you believe that? What a travesty if I'd stayed with my career, don't you
think? What a fucking waste. Think about it. If I had we wouldn't be here today
having all this fun."
	He moved up to her and took her swollen tits in his dirty hands.
	"Ahh, yeahh," he sneered. "Much better to have my hands on a pair of
these than on some stuffy old lawbooks."
	He squeezed hard, squeezed until milk dribbled from his sobbing captive's
nipples.
	Moving closer he smeared the lactating tits against his hairy mud-smeared
chest and as he did he pressed his stubbly face against Maggie's soft blonde
head.
	"So - much - fucking - better -"
	She smelled clean and fresh but glistening jewels of sweat were already visible
on the pretty woman's forehead, trickling into her arched eyebrows and eyelashes,
making her blink nervously.
	"I'm gonna kill you, cunntt," he whispered in her ear and he could feel the
words move through her. "Maybe I'll reach inside you, put my fist right up your
goddamn pighole, and pull that goddamn fetus right out of you..." She gave out a
small wounded cry and warm piss ran down her legs to puddle around her pretty
bound feet.
	"Awww," he mocked. "Is the smart Ph.D. psychiatrist scared?  Is that
why she went weewee all over herself? Hmmm?"
	Dan looked back over his shoulder at the suspended sisters on either side of
the bathroom door as he went on brutally milking Maggie's sore titbags.
	Talia was now awake and both gagged children were staring.
	"Look mom," he said. "We've got an audience...captive audience I guess."
	He chuckled at his own joke.
	"Let's give the kids something to look at, shall we?"
	He backed away from her and moved to the pile of stuff on the floor that
he'd brought in from the shed.  
	Smiling he picked up the thick wooden dowel.  It looked like it might have
been an old broomstick because one end was threaded and tapered to a point.  It
could have been the handle of an old paint roller too, Dan thought.  Whatever it
had been it was now an implement of torture, one he would use well.
	"Ever been beaten, Maggie girl?" he asked taking a stance four feet from
his dangling female target.  "Huh? Answer me. Nod your head for yes shake it for
no. Have you ever been beaten."
	"Ghhggg," Maggie moaned shaking her head sadly from side to side.
	The urine that had spilled from her had moved all the way down her legs
to her bound ankles and seeped into the ropes and it stung against her scraped skin.
	"Good," Dan replied.  "Then this will be a new experience for you, won't it?
A new sensation to explore."
	Then his voice was a dark, mean growl:
	"Take what I give you, cunt, and learn to love it -"
	He drew back and swung the dowel across Maggie's plump thighs.
	As much as Dan had gotten into torturing girl children lately he had to admit
to himself that there was just nothing better than slamming into an adult bitch,
specially one as pretty and pregnant as his psychiatrist captive. Maggie stretched
and arched immediately to the harsh crack of the wooden dowel smacking
into her meaty legs and her head rocked back between her upstretched arms.  Her
soft blonde mane tumbled down her back as Dan swung cruelly at her knees
and calves leaving dark red bruise-welts on her.  She grunted and howled and
huffed between blows looking up at her grinning tormentor as he moved about her 
to change the angle of impact.
	"Nice legs, pig," Dan growled. "I'm gonna mark em up real nice."
	The killer loved to beat a woman's legs, specially a pair as smooth and
well kept as this.  Though Maggie's shapely limbs had gotten slightly meatier
because of the pregnancy they were attractively chubby and juicy and as Dan
struck them he relished the harsh smack of his improvised weapon against
piss-moist womanflesh.
	Responsively Maggie edged up on her red-painted toes stiffly as she was
beaten and her big belly wobbled.  Dan licked his lips and considered battering
Maggie's big womb but instead continued to concentrate his attack on the hapless
captive's legs.  That big belly would be taken care of later, much later, when he'd
gotten as much  suffering as possible from all three of his defenseless victims.
	Sandra and Talia looked on in horror as their mom was brutalized.  Each
time Dan swung they grimaced, shut their eyes as the wooden dowel slashed
loudly against their mom's bound legmeat.  The girls could smell their mom's piss,
a faint acrid smell, pungent. 
	Waves of pleasure moved through the killer.
	He really loved to be watched by his victims.
	He loved the idea of showing what was in him, of letting it out.
	He fed on the horror and terror in the children's eyes, more so the little one -
he was going to really go to town on that one - he needed to.  He was going to
take her apart - probably tear her to shreds - maybe worse than Cassie Holliday.
	He stood slightly to the left of Maggie's hanging body and swung the
wooden dowel as hard as he could against her, wacking his way up from her knees
to her hips as the bitch wailed mutedly.  As the stick pounded into her the
pregnant victim hoisted herself upward by her arms and thumped her bound feet
against the carpeted floor in pain and frustration.  An ornamental vase on top
of the armoir across the room wobbled as the wooden floor beneath the carpeting
vibrated.
	Dan laughed and wacked Maggie harder moving around her now to
slash the wooden rod across her plump ass.
	Maggie tried desperately to move out of the way of the swinging dowel
but there was nowhere for her to go and all she managed was to half-spin back
and forth to the implacable rhythm of Dan's punishing strokes, her shins
bumping against the foot of the bed.
	"Filthy - fuckin' - cuntt -" Dan growled punctuating each nasty word
with an equally nasty cut of his weapon to Maggie's welted calves.
	"Filthy - fuckin' - slimy - piece - of - shit - whore -"
	Maggie's pretty daughters squealed and kicked against
the wall they were bound to but didn't get the killer's attention.  He was
focused now.  He was in welt-painting mode using his bitch as a canvas of
living suffering. The cries of the children were a fitting accompaniment 
to the task at hand. He thought of the two girls as his little captive cheerleader squad
urging him on to greater cruelty and he smiled as he smacked the
wooden dowel now against Maggie's shins forcing her into a convulsive but
incredibly sensual dance.
	Sometimes women being beaten looked just like women being fucked,
Dan thought.
	Dan paused for a moment and strode around his beaten prey.
	Maggie hung limp, breathing fast, her eyes following the killer as he
circled.
	"Beautiful," Dan whispered softly.
	Outside the sun was ushering in a warm late spring morning and though
the central air conditioning was keeping things cool in the house Dan had already
worked up a nice sweat.  
	His dank manly stink filled the room mixing with the fading smell of
Maggie's sweat and urine.
	He prodded Maggie's belly with the dowel.
	"More, bitch? Huh? Whatta you think? You want some more?"
	"NGgghhaa!Plzzzzz!" Maggie choke-gagged.
	Dan smiled at her.
	"You can take it, scumbag," he said. "I have faith in you."
	"Ghrrggg!"
	"Fuck you, pig."
	Dan reared back and swung the dowel with all his strength across Maggie's
knees.
	The pregnant bitch tossed her head back and yelped wide eyed at the
ceiling.
	"Stupid whore," Dan remarked and he hit her knees again and again.  Then
he crouched on one knee and swung the dowel against her heels repeatedly,
smacking the weapon into the pink knobs until the flesh split and blood
spurted on the white carpet.  Then standing behind her he rained down a hail of
blows on her asscheeks, on the back of her thighs and finally on her kneehollows
until Maggie hung gasping hoarsely, chin pressed against her chest, her eyes shut
tightly, spit oozing from the edges of the duct tape around her mouth and
long streamers of mucous dripping from her nose.
	Dan continued the merciless beating for a few more minutes moving slowly
around his suffering meat-target, taking his time between each crude downstroke,
until finally he tossed the dowel aside and moved toward Maggie.
	With one quick move he tore off the duct tape then yanked the crumpled
spit-soaked panties out of the pregnant woman's mouth.
	"Awgg God - pleeze -" Maggie groaned. "Don't kill us. Pleeze. Don't kill us.
Aghh I begg you. Don't kill my babies. Don't kill my babieees..."
	Before she could say another word he slapped her harshly across the face,
twice.
	"First rule, cunt," he snarled and slapped her again.  "Speak only when you
have MY permission. Got it?"
	"Aghhg -"
	He slapped her again, harder.
	Sandra and Talia squealed and wept as they watched.
	Dan took Maggie by a shank of her blonde hair and pulled her face to his.
	"GOT IT, PIG?"
	"Yezz - agg - yez - yez - ughh -"
	"Good. Now listen up. I'm gonna let you off the ropes and put you on the
bed. You hear me?"
 	She nodded blankly, her eyes brimming with tears.
	He slapped her again.
	"Say YES SIR to me, pig."
	"Y-yessir - yes-ghh-yessir -"
	"That's better - I'm gonna put you on the bed and fuck you in front of your
daughters, understand?"
	"Mghh - pleeeze -"
	Without hesitation he punched her belly.
	Yanking her head up by her hair he yelled into her face.
	"YES SIR I UNDERSTAND - say it!"
	She looked up into his crazed eyes, winded, blood dribbling from her lips.
	"Y-yes - sir," she moaned softly.
	When he loosened the overhead ropes she slid to her knees and he
manhandled her to the bed and dumped her across it on her back.
	"You try anything and I'll kill them," he told her indicating the captive girls
who hung sobbing quietly against the wall off their bound feet on either side of the
bathroom door.
	"Get your ass on the edge of the bed -" he instructed. "Yeah - that's right -
right on the goddamn edge of it and pull your legs back - way back, scumbag -
come on - yeahh - spread those thighs wide - wider than that - ooooo yeahh - lookit
that pretty cunt - nice fuckin' cunt for a fat pregnant whore - Your momma's got a
nice juicy twat don't she, girls?" He smirked at the captive children and turned back
to ogle Maggie's exposed sexslit.  It was gonna feel real nice to sink his teeth and his
hard meat in there.  The sight of the helpless pregnant female holding her beaten
badly bruised legs up in the air, feet pointed at the ceiling where a decorative white
fan spun slowly over the bed energized the Knife Man.  The bitch was offering
herself completely, submissively, obediently.  All was as it should be.
	Dan moved up to Maggie and traced the welts on her legs with his fingers
as he pushed his hard meaty cock against her welt-ravaged asscheeks and into
the blonde pubic mesh around the pregnant woman's fleshy pussylips.  Her knees
were darkly swollen and as he dug his fingertips into them she whined and trembled
her hands nestled in her bruised kneehollows holding her legs open and apart in
observance of his demand.  Her lower lip quivered as she felt his erect meatpole,
its head already slick with precum, brush against the bruised flesh of her upper
thighs.  She already had a pretty good idea about the size of his phallus. It was
impossible to ignore as she'd hung from the ropes taking the relentless beating he'd
imposed on her, he  slashing at her legs with the wooden dowel, his erection
booming with his sick excitement - but to feel that grotesque member, hot, its
crown fat and slimy and about to enter her made her tremble with anticipation.  She
was about to be raped, violated, plundered - right in front of her two young children
and there was nothing - absolutely nothing- she could do about it.  And
what was even worse the intruder would probably do the same with Sandra
and Talia.  The idea of being forced to witness such barbarity, specially with the
little one, was almost impossible for her to consider.  Just a few hours earlier the
violence of the world was something on the television screen, something that
happened somewhere else and to other people - small tight messages sandwiched
between funny commercials and slick graphics, bumper music and dramatic voice-
overs - now it was in her house, intimately in her bedroom, naked and ready to
engage.
	"Reach down there and spread that pussy open," he ordered.   The smell
of her, a mix of sweet perfume, terror sweat, piss and beaten skin was making him
dizzy. "I'm gonna eat you before I fuck you - I wanna get a good taste of that
fucking piece of cuntmeat between your legs, bitch - come on, spread it wide open
so your little girls can look right into it - so they can see what a grown up
fucking pusy looks like - yeahh - that's right - do it for me - open it all up,
scumbag - See that girls - ahh - ain't it nice?"	
	With a strangled sob Maggie obeyed the killer prying her soft sex orifice
open to expose the inner vaginal lips, red and pulpy.
	"Mmm - yess - very very nice," Dan commented now tightly gripping his
victim's punished legs and sliding down on one knee on the carpet dipping his long-
maned head between her beaten thighs, strands of his hair falling over his eyes.
	He'd done some sick shit before but going down on a pregnant bitch in
front of her children was definitely gonna be on the all-time top ten list. 
	Dan the Knife Man goes down in suburbia, he thought wickedly. 
	Then sense memories of the Lizard Man ran through him.  So much power. 
So much brutal fucking power.  He remembered Cassie suffering on the cross, 
Lizard Man's massive tentacle ripping through her gutsac - he remembered gouging
and breaking that pretty little female body - remembered the way the little girl
had looked dancing in the arc of the sprinkler before he'd captured her and
destroyed her...
	Moaning softly he opened his mouth wide,  smeared his tongue against
Maggie's hooded clit, tasting her first.  He lapped slowly up and down against her
labia and teased her cunthole and returned to the clit making his victim quiver,
drawing small quirky sounds from her throat.
	Bitch tasted sweet, sweet fuckmeat. Sweet slaughterblood pumping in her.
He could feel it just under her warm smooth skin.  Fucking fat slutbag bitch.
	Dan thought about it.  This was his first pregnant captive.
	Today he was gonna earn the title motherfucker'.
	His senses were suddenly keener and sharper.
	He could hear the baby's heartbeat inside Maggie clearly.
	"Ahh yeahhh," he growled and pushed his middle finger into her cunthole
sucking knowingly on her clitoris.
	Involuntarily Maggie began to lubricate, her orifice infolding and spreading
as Dan's hard thick digit pressed deep.
	He drank her juices, pushed two fingers into her, licked her up and down,
licked her asshole, nibbled her cunt lips, began biting her.
	His sharp teeth made her instinctively begin to draw her knees together.
	"Don't you close your legs to me, pig," he snarled, his voice muffled against
her wet sexmeat, his breath hot. "You hear me? Keep em spread open!"
	Maggie sobbed but complied.
	She knew she had no choice but to succumb to the killer and her mind reeled
and fought the waves of confused terror. She had to be strong for her daughters,
she told herself. She could allow nothing to defeat her.
	Dan pushed his face into her cunt ravenously, bit harder, made her cry, thrust
four fingers up her.
	Anguished, Maggie looked over at Sandra and Talia dangling helplessly on
their ropes and her cheeks flushed dark red with shame.  Her daughters were being
forced to watch the sexual obscenity she was being subjected to and they couldn't
look away.  She knew there was no looking away, no escape from the terrifying
ordeal the savage intruder was putting them all through.  She looked down over the
swell of her belly and she could see the top of the man's dark-maned head and his
wicked coal-black eyes studying her.  His pupils gleamed savagely as he growled
and dipped his face and fingers forward, driving into her as she bit her lip and tried
to stifle the hysteria that threatened to overwhelm her.  Soon his cheeks were
glistening with her cuntjuice and he was propping himself up on his elbows,
licking his lips as he hovered over her.
	"You taste real fuckin' good, pig - I'm almost ready to fuck you," he said
softly.  "...almost there...and from the looks of it you are too..."
	Dan dipped his face down again into Maggie's pulsing vagina, he sank his
teeth into her labia harder now and began to try and force his whole fist into
her filthy sexhole.  
	He loved/hated her cunt.  He wanted to devour it, to rip it out of her with his
teeth to grind it to a pulp, to slice it to pieces.  He had to contain himself from
carrying out each of the devastating impulsive images that flooded instantly
into his head.  There was time yet, he told himself.  Draw it out.  Use the pig.
Take your time. Make this pussy suffer.  Make it give all it can give.
	It took him almost fifteen minutes to work his fist past the tight ring of
muscle and by then Maggie was gasping for breath and crying fitfully under him.
	The pregnant victim's cries began to get louder and she began to flail her
arms against the bed.
	"Keep still, you fuck," he growled. "Or I'll kill your little babies right now
and make you watch."
	His words brought about the intended effect and Maggie fought to control
herself, stifling the cries of pain that wanted to break in her throat, gripping the
tussled sheets, pressing her head back into the mattress and closing her eyes
tightly.
	The intruder's fist felt like a battering ram as he now began to pump it slowly
in and out of her fuck chute.
	"Good girl," he growled. "That's it - keep it nice and wide for me - yeahhh -
nice and wide you fucking pig. Take what I give you and stay quiet...mmm - very
nice, Maggie - very fucking nice..."
	He dipped down again and began to lap at her clit as he fist-fucked her.
	"Yeahh - Maggie - you've got such a pretty cunt...mmmm - real - real -
fuckin' pretty..."
	And then without warning his teeth clamped down on her clit.
	He bore down and she arched her back and made an odd sound in her throat,
a constrained scream.
	"NNNGGGGGHHHHRRRRRRR!"
	Her head rocked from side to side and the knuckles on her hands as she
gripped the sheets, nearly tearing them off the bed, nails scratching against the
mattress, went white.
	He slammed his fist inward almost up to the wrist and as he tasted blood
he relaxed his clamping teeth and sucked on her.
	"Just one more little lovebite before I give you my prick, sweetie," he
whispered hoarsely and sank his teeth into his captive's bleeding genitalia again.
	"GGHHWWWWWGGHHGG!"
	Blood spurted into his mouth and he smiled and slammed his fist in and out
of Maggie's hot battered sex.
	When he finally released her she gave out a whining gasp and her welted legs
kicked out, her bruised heels kicking off the edge of the bed and on the carpet.  She
tried to turn on her belly but he kept her on her back, grabbed her by her shoulders
as he climbed on to the bed and hauled her effortlessly up toward the pillows.
	"Its fucktime, cow," he told her.
	She looked up into his face.
	There was no expression there at all.
	It was a cruel sneering mask.


4,
	He knelt between her beaten thighs, slow-stroking himself.
	Behind him and off to the left Sandra and Talia hung sniveling and
writhing suspended in the tight ropes.
	"What do you think, Margaret," he said.  She could hardly bear to look at
that dead face.  Classic psychopath, she thought.  Only it was different reading about
it or hearing a lecture on it or even seeing filmed interviews with killers in prison,
then actually facing one.  Way different.
	"Think you can help me? Think you can make me stop?"
	He had made her put her arms under her back. Obedience, she knew, would
at least gain time. 	
	"I - I don't know -" she whimpered.  She wished she knew just what time it
was, how long the killer had been in her house. She couldn't see the digital clock on
the night table and didn't dare raise her head, in fact she didn't dare look anywhere
but into those dark dead eyes that never left her face. She wondered if there had
ever been a soul behind that mesmerizing stare, if there had ever been compassion
or pity.
	Her legs hurt horribly and she felt trickles of blood oozing from her
tortured sex.  Her vagina throbbed and ached and inside her the baby was
kicking.  She was hoping the intruder would not look down and see that -
but he had to have seen it from his vantage point - it scared her that he
said nothing about it.
	"I don't know about y-your - your background," she muttered, hoping
to keep his attention.
	A weird smile flickered across the Knife Man's features and then disappeared.
	"My background," he echoed cynically.
	"Yes. I need to know something about you to make some kind of - of
diagnosis."
	He rose up on his knees.  He had a broad hairless chest and powerful
muscular arms, long cascading black hair that tumbled over his face.  There was no
question about it. He was a formidable and powerful predator.  And an experienced
one. He was also, except for those dead black eyes, extremely handsome.
	He began to rub the tip of his massive cockshaft against her irritated 
red-rimmed cunthole.
	"Mmmm - A diagnosis. That sounds real serious - OK - I'll give you a little
background, doc."
	Grabbing her pregnant belly in one hand, scooping up a handful of flesh, he
scootched forward and began to push his cock into her, his eyes never leaving hers.
	She felt his sizably solid manflesh slowly sink inward, her cunt already
pounded wide by his fist and she bit her lip, spread herself open submissively for
him, and tried to keep her mind clear.
	"My mother was a filthy whore," he said as his hips began to pump slowly.
	His body moved with fierce grace.
	"Men payed her and fucked her and beat her."
	"Y-you saw that?"
	"Saw it? You stupid cunt. I started sharing her with them when I was only
twelve..."
	Maggie couldn't see her daughters now as the intruder loomed over her,
staring down with hungry concentration, but she knew they could see what he was
doing - and they could hear his low mean hypnotic voice. She tried not to think
about what his words were doing to them psychologically.  She only hoped they
would all survive him and his warped mind and the story of its sick genesis
somehow. Under her she gripped her hands together and tried to stay calm.
	"Go on," she gasped.
	His cock pistoning in and out was massive, and unyielding like a steel pipe. 
She knew he was nowhere near orgasm. Absolutely nowhere near it. She was
pretty sure only terrible suffering and death would get someone like him off  He
was taking his long sweet time and all she could hope was that something would
happen, that someone would ring her front door bell  or that the phone would ring. 
Surely the schools would call when Talia and Sandra failed to appear.  Maybe Jerry
would call from work.  Any interruption might throw him off his intentions.
	"Somehow I don't thik you're really listening to me," Dan said his hands
moving to Maggie's fatly swollen breast mounds, his eyes glowering at her.  He
seized her nipples and twisted them
savagely.  She squealed in pain as drops of milk spilled from the misshapen nubs.
	"Are you listening now, pig?"
	"Godd - ughh - yesss, yess - I'm listening!"
	"That's better."
	Still cruelly tweaking her titcaps and crudely fucking the doomed psychiatrist
Dan began his long confessional.
	The Knife Man told his victim about the physical and verbal abuse his mother
had heaped on him - his beautiful dark-haired degenerate mother. He told her about
the drunken incestuous orgies that went on in the dinghy apartment with his
mother's friends'. Maggie's mind reeled with the image of a twelve year old boy
wearing black leather strap harnesses, ramming his young cock into a depraved
dark-haired woman on the bed while nasty men jeered and urged him on, whipped
him and raped him and spurted their hot cum on him.  He told her about his
aborted attempt later at the legal profession, Tom Waverly's pointless life.  He told
her about his first kill, that luscious young whore who had died bloody on the snow
outside a bar for his pleasure.  Dan fucked Maggie harder and told her of the one
young victim he'd spared because he'd felt sorry for her and how he'd ended up in
prison because of her testimony.  And then he told her about coming out of prison
and starting life as Dan the Knife Man. By then the killer was in his pregnant prey
up to his balls.
	He told Maggie about Anna, the young girl he'd butchered with a chainsaw
in the warehouse at Orchidea.  
	That memory seemed particularly special to him - spinning steel teeth and
blood flying up on the walls.
	He began to slap Maggie's tits and then to punch them.
	The memory of Anna's luscious body torn apart by the big power tool made
him smile and drive himself into his pregnant victim with sudden energy.
	He told her about each of his kills going into graphic detail, relishing the fact
that Maggie's daughters were listening to the horror.
	By the time he got to the massacre of the college girls and then the murders
in Cedarville and the house in the Florida swamp he was pounding savagely into
Maggie.  It was nice to fuck this bitch with his cock and with his words all at the
same time.
	It was nice to finally tell somebody his whole story, someone who could
truly appreciate its full dimension.
	"I really love killing women," he growled, smiling sickly.  "I really do
fucking love it - almost as much as killing little girls..."
	On the wall Talia and Sandra squealed and sobbed.
	"Ohh Godd," Maggie moaned.  She was trying desperately to listen to the
killer, to make observations and connections, but the punishing fuck he was
subjecting her to made it nearly impossible to keep any kind of focus. And
the glee in those dead eyes when he spoke about the sado-sexual slaughter of
chldren...that was intolerable. She didn't think it possible, even with all her training
and all she'd been exposed to, that a rational mind could possibly be in tune with
such demented violence and not be derailed by some schizophrenic break. She tried
to think about escape, about fighting back.  If she could get downstairs to the
kitchen - to the steak knives - or to Jerry's gun in the pantry closet (was it even
loaded?) - Oh yes, that was her first most basic impulse: to kill, to put an end to such
darkness. This animal was beyond help. But there was no way she would be able to
evade him - he was so strong and quick.  She wondered what had turned him into a
pedophilic killer in the first place - a need for more intense power? A traumatic
disconnection with his own childhood?  It was like he was proud of his deeds - like a
trophy hunter bragging about his encounters in the woods and jungles. She was
dizzy with fear and with pain, her legs and pussy throbbing. She could hear Sandra
and Talia wailing pitifully and thumping their legs against the wall.  They were
probably trying to shut out the sound of his voice and the demented narrative that
poured from him.  Maggie felt horror and pity for his victims, like that
college girl he'd taken to the abandoned farmhouse in Florida. Or the child he'd
taken to the warehouse... She couldn't even begin to imagine the limits those poor
creatures had been forced to accept for Dan's sexual fulfillment.
	Now his hands were on her throat.  He was demanding her full attention.
	"There's nothing like killing a child -" he growled sickly. "Nothing in the
whole fucking world, Maggie....little helpless body kicking and flailing...unhhh...that
helpless little innocent life there for the taking - and knowing that its so fucking
wrong - unhhh - that's the best part of it - knowing its fucked up and still doing it
and doing it slow and making them die -  mmm - its gonna be nice to do your little
babies ike that, pig - uhhh yeahh - real fuckin' sweet -"
	"Pleease don't kill us," Maggie whimpered. "I think I can help you - I
can help you try to figure it out -"
	"Figure it out - uhhh - figure this out, cunt - That last little bitch I killed
made me turn into a fucking lizard."
	"Wh- what - what did you say?"
	"Uhnnh - you heard me - a fucking lizard -  a monster lizard - Lizard Man...
Torturing her was so good it made something happen, something inside - something
twisted - to my body."
	"No. You know that's not possible - mgg - it had to be a hallucination -
uggh!"
	His hands tightened around her throat and she gasped for air.
	"Hallucination, you stupid bitch? How do you think I ended up in your
fucking shed out there last night, huh?  I was fucking Lizard Man all night
out in the swamp out there - uhh - and you know what? It was fucking great.
Yeahh! Greatt! I tore that little Cassie bitch apart!"
	His eyes were full of furious energy now and he was pounding into her.
She didn't dare contradict him.  He was in some kind of manic phase, totally
out of touch. This was probably the break she had guessed must be taking place in
his depraved and tormented mind. She tried to remember if she'd ever studied any
similar cases - wolfmen, vampires yes - but lizard men?  Had he chosen a lizard
because it was cold and reptilian, because it removed his emotions - she was
struggling with that idea and the idea of all the women and girls he'd slaughtered -
helpless innocents that had done nothing to deserve the vicious end he'd put
to their lives.  Was it even worth figuring him out?  It was probably best just
to exterminate him - like you exterminate an insect that has sneaked in under 
the door. That was the only thing left for someone like him. The only civilized
thing...
	"I think the Lizard Man will come out again, bitch," he said.  "He'll
come out when its time to do your two little bunnies hanging on the wall..."
	"No! Pleease - uggh - you killed a little girl - ghhh - the police will
be out looking for you - I can give you money  - help you get away or hide -"
	Dan laughed.
	"No one knows where she is - no one - only Lizard Man - only he
can find her and bury her - she's in pieces - ohhh yeahh - it was soo nice
to make her that way -"
	He slam-fucked her, pounded her into the bed.
	"You want to go back -" she gasped. "- uhh - you want to bury her - you
need to hide your crime - I'll help you - nngg - help you - pleease - let me help 
you -"
	"In pieces, bitch - do you understand me? Are you fucking listening?
Why do I love to take them apart like that - ahhh Jesus - it feels soo - uhnnhh -
When I cut them open. When I pull out their little guts. When I look into
their eyes. They're so scared.  It - makes - me - feel - so - fucking....
POWERFUL!"
	Silent now Maggie just looked up into his fiery eyes.  She was being
sucked into that fire, the smooth ramming power of his cock - he
was going so deep - his hands around her throat so tight - her head ached
dully then where he'd hit her with the bat and the room started to spin.
She tried to say something but all she could manage was to open her mouth
and choke for him.
	There was such dark energy in him.  She saw it then clearly and
unequivocally - such limitless dark energy.  Could there be any truth to
what he was saying? Was it possible that the psychological darkness in him had
somehow produced some weird physical manifestation?
	Then suddenly he pulled out of her.
	In a daze she watched him pick the wooden dowel he'd beaten her
legs with up from the floor.
	"Keep those legs wide for me," he snarled. "I'm gonna beat that
stinking cunt before I fuck it some more."
	His words didn't quite register until she saw him swing the club down
on her and the wet smack rushed hot pain up her spine.  She screeched
and drew her thighs closed and turned on her side rolling herself up into
a fetal ball.
	"Guess you didn't hear what I said, cunt," he spat. "Roll back over
and spread those fucking legs for me and keep your goddamn mouth shut
while I beat your worthless cunt - unless you want me to start on your
two babies.  You hear me? I can just as easily beat their little
pussies to blood if you have a problem following my instructions." 
	It took her a moment but finally she obeyed splaying herself out for him,
looking up into the slow-spinning fan above her, her hands under her, as he slashed
methodically at her exposed sexmeat.  He gave her twenty five strokes as she
clenched her teeth together, her small hands fisted, the last few full-strength down
strokes that ripped the tender flesh to blood.
	She heard him toss the wooden dowel aside and felt the mattress wobble
as it took his weight.  Then in the bloody bruised mush of her battered sex she
felt him enter her once again, harder, meaner.
	His weight crushed down into the plump bubble of her pregnant womb. 
	Just before darkness began enveloping her she watched him bend low
and put his mouth to her ear.  When he spoke his hot breath seared her cheek.
	"The Lizard Man wants to eat your little girl," he said.
	Then she blacked out but only briefly and when she regained consciousness
he had rolled her over on her stomach and he was fucking her up the ass. He had
her by her hips and he was hammering into her and gouging out her shithole which
felt like it was being ripped apart.
	"Still think you can help me, pig?" he shouted. "Huh? Still think you can
help me?"
	She choked, coughed and then puked on the bed, heard him laughing,
heard Sandra and Talia whining and then she blacked out again, her cheek pressed
into the bilous puddle of her own vomit.


5.

	When she came to she was hanging on the ropes again and far away she
could hear the electronic warble of a phone.  She was on her knees and her ankles
had been pulled up and bound to her thighs, her whipped heels pressing into her
buttcheeks.  She was rope-suspended awkwardly by her big swollen tits, her arms
drawn back behing her, elbows tightly cinched together.
	In a blur she saw the killer come from the bathroom with a glass full of water.
	He chucked the cold fluid in her face startling her, bringing her fully awake.
	Her cell phone was in his hand.
	"Answer it," he said bluntly. "Tell whoever it is that the older girl is sick and
you're taking her to the doctor. You hear me?"
	She nodded slowly.
	He pressed the phone to her cheek and clicked the reply button.
	"Hu-llo?" she grunted.
	"Mrs. Weylan," Maggie recognized the voice of Laurie Winthrop, the
administrative secretary at Valley High School.  "Sandra hasn't shown up
this morning and -"
	"Uh - oh yes," Maggie blurted. Her head was still spinning. "Sandra's uhm -
not well."
	She looked across the room and saw Talia hanging from the ceiling on one
side of the bathroom door but Sandra no longer hung next to her.  The five year
old was staring at her mom wide-eyed with terror.  The killer had no doubt scared
her quiet when the phone had started ringing, Maggie thought. 
	But where was Sandra?
	Maggie felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach.  How long had
she been unconscious?  What had the killer done while she was out?
	"I hope she's ok," the voice on the phone said.
	"Uhm - I - I think its just a flu. I'm taking her to the doctor later."
	"Ok. Thanks."
	"Uh - I'm sorry I didn't call earlier."
	"No problem. Just checking up. Bye."
	Before Maggie could say anything else the line went dead and the killer
clicked the phone off and tossed it on the floor.
	"I think what little Sandra's got is a bit worse than the flu," the killer said.
	"Sandra, sweetie," he called out. "Come out here and join us."
	Maggie heard a shuffling movement in the bathroom then the clacking of
sluggish steps on the tiled floor.
	Then the pretty psychiatrist lost her breath.
	Sandra stood in the doorway, unable to hold her head up, her chin
pressing into her chest, her dark blonde hair in tangles spilling over her
face and hiding her eyes.  She wore Maggie's black high heel pumps which the
killer had obviously made her put on - Sandra and her mom had the same shoe
size but the teenager looked clumsy and inept in the classy footwear. The glossy
pumps seemed incongrous with the rest of her. Her arms were wrist bound on
either side of her to her thighs and from her belly to her shoulders she was covered
with hundreds of tiny knife cuts, some shaped like X's others like T's others just
straight bleeding lines in her young flesh. The fingers of her hands rippled slowly,
opening and closing. An intense concentration of cuts covered her nubile breasts.
One nipple was cut in half the other was entirely removed and the child was still
duct-tape gagged.  Thin lines of blood dripped from her sex slit and her pussy
mound was covered with dark mottled bruises.  Lines of blood ran down her legs
which were swollen darkly around the knees from the blow of the bat Dan had used
in his initial attack.
	"Look up at your mom, sweetie," Dan ordered.
	The child raised her head weakly.
	Her face sported several nasty bruises, including an ugly bluish bump the bat
had etched across her forehead.  One of Sandra's pretty blue eyes was now half
shut, and there were a few cuts on her freckled cheeks which bled down over the
duct tape gag and down her graceful neck.
	But the most frightening thing was the lack of any expression on the
pretty teengirl's beaten face.
	The one unbruised eye stared stupidly.
	"Turn around, honey - show mama -" Dan called out.
	Like a robot Sandra followed the intruder's command.
	Maggie sobbed.
	Her teenage daughter's back was crisscrossed with dark red and purple
welts.  She had been viciously whipped, probably with the six foot long electrical
extension cord which lay on the floor in the bathroom doorway, from her shoulders
to her calves.  
	"We had lots of fun while you were unconscious, mom," Dan said. "Lots of
fun. And there's still lots of fun to be had - isn't there, honey?" 
	Sandra nodded dully.
	"You should be proud of her, mom.  She's quite the obedient young lady.
So polite and so eager to please...so unlike most teenagers these days...And doesn't
she look fabulous in mom's high heel shoes... Mm-mm-mmm - Get on
the bed, sweetie.  That's right up on the bed.  On your knees - that's a good girl -
I was saving the best part for when you came around, Margaret.  Wouldn't
want you to miss it..."
	The phone rang again.
	"Goddamn it," Dan cursed. "That's annoying - Ok Margaret. You know the
drill.  Gotta take sweetiepie there to the doctor.  Right?"
	Maggie nodded. She was shivering with terror.  It looked like Sandra needed
much more than a doctor - she needed to be taken to the emergency unit of St.
James Hospital in downtown Thurmond, and soon.
	It was Talia's school calling.  Maggie gave the same explanation she'd given
Laurie Winthrop earlier.  She could hear her own voice as if she was no longer the
one behind it.  It was as if she was trapped in  a stranger's body - a stranger who
could do nothing but cooperate with this killer who was about to destroy her whole
family.  She was a mindless puppet, able only to execute his commands -
	He stood watching her, his eyes slitted as she obeyed and when she finished
he again tossed the phone on the carpet.
	She watched him pick up the steel crowbar from the pile of instruments
stacked near the wall.
	Breathlessly she saw him climb up on the bed and stand over Sandra.
	"Alright," he said. "Now where were we?"
	Maggie looked down at the blue sheets and saw the smeared wet spot her
puke had left there.  Now tiny drops of dark blood - blood spots from Sandra began
to form a constellation around that dark area.
	"Oh yeah," he said sarcastically. "I remember."
	The killer took Sandra by her hair.
	"Is this the bed you made her on?" he asked Maggie.
	The question caught the psychiatrist off guard.
	"Y-yes," she said after a moment.
	"Yes, what, pig?"
	She blinked at him then remembered.
	"Yes, sir."
	"Well, this is the same fuckin' bed she's gonna be unmade on."
	Viciously he swung the crowbar down into Sandra's ribcage right across
her mutilated tit.
	The teenager made a grunting sound and jerk-twisted in the direction of the
blow, toward the left. Blood squirted from her nipple-less boob.
	Maggie gave out a choked scream.
	Dan glared at her.
	"If you can't keep quiet I will gag you. Do you understand, cunt?"
	"Pleease -" Maggie replied in a small voice. "Pleease don't kill her - don't kill
my child."
	"If you can't keep quiet I will gag you," Dan repeated.  Then he swung the
crowbar down again into Sandra's chest.  The teen's head snapped back against
the bed's wooden headboard and she made a horrible gurgling sound.
	Maggie sobbed mournfully.
	She knew she would not be able to obey the killer.  Maybe if she screamed
loudly someone would hear.  Maybe. Or maybe he would just slaughter all three of
them and no one would know, no matter what she did.  She knew the house was
almost sound proof and that even when they'd had parties and they'd played
loud music you could hear nothing if you stood on the sidewalk out front.  The
neighboring houses were too far removed.  And at this time of day there was
no one out there on the quiet suburban street to hear her cries.  She knew the killer
knew it as well.  But she also knew that his demand for silence was just another way
of establishing his absolute sadistic supremacy...and now, because she had begun to
harbor a deep-seated loathing for him, she didn't want to grant him that.
	Again, Dan swung the crowbar viciously down across his teenage victim's
bloody knife-cut titglobes.
	Sandra's mouth gaped open but no sound came out.  Her body squirmed
spastically.
	Maggie squealed and the killer stared at her angrily.
	"I can't keep quiet and watch you kill my baby," she protested.
	"You can and you will," he said.  "Because if you don't I'll kill the
little one first."
	"You're going to kill all of us anyway - what's the difference?"
	Dan continued to stare meanly at her and then he released Sandra.  The child
slumped backwards with a groan and lay across the bed at his feet. He then 
stepped off the bed and came at Maggie.
	He moved slowly and when he was within striking distance he
hauled back and swung the crowbar into the pregnant woman's left hip.
	She howled and swung back and forth by her tightly bound boobs, her knees
scraping on the carpet.
	"You wanna scream? Ok. I'll fuckin' give you something to scream about
you stupid whore."
	He swung the crowbar across her other hip.
	Intense cramps moved through her belly.
	"Pleeease!" Maggie shrieked.
	"Please nothing, scumbag. Maybe since you don't seem to have a real
preference about who I take first I'll just kill YOU."
	The crowbar thumped into her left thigh.
	Pain tore into Maggie's mind - she screamed wildly and saw him raise the
crowbar again.  He was going to break her to pieces.  He was going to finish her.
	The steel club thudded into her right knee and she heard the bone snap.
	"AGhhhh - noooo!" she screeched.
	"Goddamn I love to see a bitch in pain!"
	He swung again against her other bent-up, back-bound leg, nearly shattering
her shinbone.
	Maggie shut her eyes tightly and braced for the next blow.
	Long agonizing seconds drifted by.
	She felt his breath on her face.
	"Look at me, pig," he snarled.
	"You're pretty fucking stupid for a psychiatrist," he told her bent over her as
she peered at him trembling. "There may be a solution here and you haven't come
up with it.  And as long as you stay pissed off at me you never will."
	Maggie stared at him.  Her mind spun in dazed confusion still racked by
the painful blows of the steel bar.
	"Wouldn't you agree, doctor, that my killing rage is fueled by my sexual
urge?"
	She blinked at him.  What was he trying to do?
	She noticed he was jerking himself off.
	"Maybe all I need's a little mouth-love to get me off," he growled.
	"Whatta you say? Wanna give it a try, doc? Get me off and all three of you
may survive to tell about it."
	"Ohh Godd," she gasped.
	"There is no God, cunt. Only me. Only what's in front of you right now.
Whatta ya say?  Blow me and live or kneel there and I'll break your fucking ass to
pieces and then shove the crowbar right up into that piece of meat inside you."
	The image his words planted in her mind made her dizzy.  She had to admit
there was a very slim possibility that if he climaxed his need to kill would retreat and
there was some chance he would just walk away.
	She did not answer and he stepped back and raised the bar to strike
her again.
	"Waitt!" she gasped. "Alright. Alright. I'll do whatever you want."
	He smiled.
	"You waited too long to answer, pig," he spat and swung the bar
up into her shoulder.
	The blinding shock of pain tore a gurgling scream from her.
	"Way too long."
	He swung two more times, once across her arm nearly snapping it and once
into her other shoulder, near the armpit.  That blow tore a gash in her skin as she
howled at the ceiling. Then he was standing over her, gripping her head by her hair,
his massive prick hovering against her lips.
	"Alright, cunt," he growled. "Suck."



5.

	He was big. At least three times bigger than Jerry.
	Maggie had never enjoyed fellatio but she'd done it to please her husband
on occasion.
	This was different.
	The killer was fucking her mouth and her throat savagely, her jaw 
stretched to the max, almost to dislocation.
	This was extreme and violent mouth-rape and all she could do was take it and
pray.
	The rope loops that snagged her big milk-filled tits bit into her titmeat
and she struggled to keep her balance on her kneecaps as the killer thrust
in and out, occasionally stepping back to pull his cock from her and slap her
face harshly before pushing back in.  His heavy balls bounced against her neck
and chin and he still held the crowbar in one hand as he gripped her hair with
the other.  At any moment he could just change his mind and crush her 
skull with the steel weapon if he chose.  He had absolute power over her.
Absolute. Life and death.  He owned her and her children and there was nothing
she could do about it.
	Her shoulders arms and legs ached dully where he'd hit her and her bent
back legs were numb from the tight ropes.  Pain shot up her knees each time she
wobbled for balance, her right leg where the crowbar had struck more than the left,
and her face was flushed hot from his slaps.	
	She could bite him, sink her teeth into his prick but she was sure
that would end with a savage downstroke of metal, His ensuing rage would be
an unstoppable conflagration that would take her and her children with it.
At least if she tried to get him off she might be able to blunt his sadistic fury
long enough that some unforeseen interruption might put an end to his frenzy.
	He pinched her nostrils shut and slid his cockhead deep into her gagging
throat, leaning over her to spit in her eyes as rivulets of her own sputum
spilled from the stretched rim of her lips.
	"Come on, pig," he urged. "Come on. Get me off. Uhhh. Suck the 
cum out of my balls.  All those fuckin' diplomas in your office downstairs mean
diddly shit now, don't they? Don't they? Huh? All that matters now is how good
you can suck cock - HOW GOOD OF A COCKSUCKER Mrs. Maggie Weylan is -
Yeahhh - uhhh - look at you. You're just a piece of shit scumbag whore tied by
your tits on your fuckin' knees and serving your master.  Ahhh yeahh - get me
harder you stinking gutter whore - yeahh - harder - harder - unhhh!"
	He let her breathe then pinched her nostrils shut again. His hot spittle ran
down her cheeks and the sides of her neck.
	"I need to hurt those big sweet tits of yours, cunt."
	He stepped back and put the crowbar down on the floor. She watched his big
hands form fists as he moved back toward her and suddenly he began to tit-punch
her savagely driving his knuckles into her suspended milkbags.  She sobbed and
cried out as he beat her rolling from side to side on her kneecaps from the
impact of his punishment.  Occasionally he would punch her pregnant womb
before resuming the devastating pounding of her boobs.
	"Stupid - fuckin' - cunt -" he snarled slamming and slamming her.
	Then he went to the pile of junk on the floor and found the rusty fishhooks.
	He returned to her and showed them to her smiling.
	She was on the verge of passing out, drooling bile down her chin, staring
up at her attacker.  Her breasts were bruised from his attack, blood and milk spilling
from the purplish erect nipples.  Dazed she watched him lean down and spear
the fishing hook into one nipple - as the pain blazed through her in short
intermittent bursts he inserted the other hook through her other nipple
and connected the two hooks with a short stretch of fishing line.  
	Going down on one knee he then cuntpunched her several times, reached
out, spread open her throbbing cuntlips and pierced a third hook right through her
clit.
	He watched smiling as she shrieked out her pain then he ran a stretch of
fishing line through the hook in her cunt and attached it to line from the two
hooks in her mams.  As he tugged slowly on the line, her tits stretched downward,
distorted and her vagina pulled upward and pain raced in hot bursts through her
making her cry and whinny
	He leaned down to lick at the edges of the hooks in her tits as he gently
thrummed his fingers against her stabbed clitoris. The smell and the taste of rust and
blood excited him deeply.  As his victim gasped and pleaded with him he rose
again to stand over her.  She was visibly trembling, spastic shudders running
through her limbs. 
	He grabbed her by her hair and by her throat.
	"I'm gonna piss down your miserable throat, shitbag,"he told her.
	Then he leaned back from his hips, gripping her head and face tightly and he
moaned and she felt his organ swell and ripple and then she felt the gush
explode in her gullet and she flushed and coughed and gasped.  His hot urine
backed up in her throat and spewed out of her nostrils as he released her
nose. It rolled onto her punished tits and burned on her nipples. It washed down her
belly and burned her pierced clit.  Maggie huffed breathless, choked and turned beet
red but he held her in place continuing to empty his bladder deep in her raped
throat.
	From the bed Sandra watched the killer abuse his mom in a daze.  The will
to run or to fight had been beaten out of her. She lay with her head propped up
against the headboard her eyes vacant and defeated.
	"Drink me," Dan snarled. "Drink it all down. Swallow it. Stinking animal
whore."
	He glanced back over his shoulder at Talia wo hung up on the wall and
at Sandra, who lay silent and stunned.  Both children were watching him with
passive horror.
	"See what a great toilet your momma is?" he told them.  "Learn from
her. This is what women are for.  This is ALL women are good for. Right, mom?
Drink it down. Don't you spill a fuckin' drop."
	Talia whined weakly.  Earlier, the five year old had watched the killer release
her sister from the rope suspension, watched him force Sandra to wear mom's
shoes. Talia had seen him push her older sister into the bathroom.  The five year old
had seen him take the electrical cord in there and she'd heard the wicked slashing
sounds and Sandy's hideous muffled cries of pain.  Then the quieter torture, the
monster telling Sandy how pretty she was while he used the knife on her.  And the
occasional beefy sound of a slap or a punch and then other wet sounds and Sandra
moaning weakly.  That was so scary because Talia couldn't see - she could only
hear...  And momma had just hung there where the man had tied her by her titties
and Talia had thought momma was dead until she saw momma wake up again. 
And where was daddy? Wasn't someone going to come and help them?  Talia felt
terror rip through her and she mewled like a trampled kitten.
	Furiously aroused, Dan slid out of Maggie's mouth and dribble pissed
on her cheeks and in her eyes.  He aimed the last few spurts on her bleeding
hook-pierced nipples and tugged-out clit.
	"Where's your diagnosis, cuntface? Huh? Where is it? Stupid goddamn
whore..."
	He rubbed his hard red meat all over her urine dripping face and hair
and she choked and sputtered and tried to breathe.
	"Wanna hear my diagnosis? Huh? You're fucked. The three of ya. That's my
goddamn diagnosis."
	"Lick my balls," he growled. "Uhhh - come on, scumbag - get me off!"
	She dipped under his shaft to follow his command responding automatically,
knowing that the next few moments were crucial.  She licked his genitals urgently,
staring up at him as he glared down on her.  She kept opening and closing
her bound hands to keep the circulation going in her numb aching arms and
she continued to totter on her knees. Each small movement she made pulled on her
hook-pierced nipples and cunt.  Dan lifted his cock out of her way and
ordered her to suck as well as lick and after a while he gripped her head by the
hair one-handed again and fed her his massive tool thrusting in and out,
bopping up against the back of her throat and gouging into her voice-box until
spit and vomit gurgled up out of Maggie's mouth and she sobbed helplessly.
	She knew it was hopeless.  The killer was very disciplined and he
could pleasure-fuck her face and mouth all day without cumming.  
	He went on throat fucking her for another fifteen minutes then he drew out
of her mouth and she began to weep and beg for her daughters' lives.
	Ignoring her,  Dan picked up the crowbar from the floor and tossed it up on
to the bed beside Sandra; then he turned and went toward the bathroom.
	At the doorway he stopped, turned to Talia, grabbed the five year old's
face by her chin with his free hand and smeared his lips all over her face, obscenely
kissing and licking the terrified duct-tape-gagged child.  Slowly he moved down
the child's body kissing, sucking and biting her, sinking his teeth into her belly
and into her sides and into her thighs.  He pushed his fingers up into her pussyhole,
already abused by the bat. He squeezed her round buttcheeks and pressed his
thumb up her tight rectum as he licked and bit her mons and made her squeal and
squirm.  Still moving down her bound legs he ground his teeth into her
calves and shins and into her feet, into her little toes which were like 
nuggets in his mouth.
	Sandra looked down at the crowbar on the bed.  Maybe she could pick it
up and hit the intruder with it.  The thought drifted nebulously.  She didn't have the
strength - and he was so - powerful...She looked down at her mom. Kneeling,
bleeding from her hook-gouged tightly bound tits, sobbing  weakly, Maggie Weylan
was the absolute portrait of female defeat.  The sight of her completely demoralized
Sandra.  She knew she'd never have the courage to challenge this animal.  
	Never.
	Both Maggie and Sandra looked on helplessly as Dan rose back up and
began to punch little Talia indiscriminately, pounding his fists into her
dangling body, using her like a boxer uses a punching bag, slamming the
gagged child against the unyielding wall behind her.  When he tired of the beating
Dan reached down to untie Talia's ankles.  From the pile of objects on the floor
he took a hammer and a nail.  Grabbing Talia's left leg he raised the whimpering
beaten child's limb way up beside her on the wall, so that she looked like a 
captured ballerina.  He put the three inch wood nail to the spot just above her
small heel, where the tendon pulled away from the anklebone.  In silent dumbstruck
horror Sandra and Maggie watched him hammer the nail into Talia's foot and into
the wall pinning the child by her blood-spurting limb. The dazed five year old was
suddenly energized by the pain, her body swiveling and thumping against the wall,
her eyes wide and horrorstruck.  Dan took another nail, put it to Talia's other foot,
down near the floor, placing the sharp tip to the membrane between her big toe and
the toe next to it, slamming it through girlmeat, suspended child shrilly screaming
and writhing, impaled now like a graceful butterfly.
	Dropping the hammer Dan now picked up one of the electrical extensions,
a long brown vynl insulated cord.  He looped it double so that it dangled from his
hand to the carpet and he stood a few feet behind the naked nailed child
and slightly to the right of her looking over at Maggie.
	"Think she can take it, mom?"
	"Ohhh Godd!" Maggie wailed. "Pleeease don't! Don't! Don't!"
	"Why not? Cause she's a little girl? Cause she doesn't deserve it? Fuck
that, mom.  She's gonna take what's comin' to er just like everybody else -
fact is she's gonna get worse - a lot fuckin' worse."
	"She's only a child!!" Maggie groaned.
	"Far as I'm concerned," Dan told Maggie but included Sandra as he
glaced back over his shoulder. "She's cuntmeat."
	He turned back to look at Talia and raised the electrical extension up
off the floor his arm cocked back.
	" - dirty - stinking - cuntmeat -"
	Grinning savagely Dan began to whip Talia with the electrical cord. The
doubled plastic wire whined through the air and thudded into childmeat repeatedly
as Dan swung placing a series of harsh red welts across the five year old's chest
from her armpits to her belly, across her pink nipple buds, making her dance
jerkily and pull impossibly against the wood nails that held her feet to the wall.
As the child screamed and tossed her head from side to side in a flurry of
blonde hair Dan cut into her abdomen and thighs, blow after blow, not giving
her a chance to recuperate before hitting her again.  He whipped her shins.
He whipped the trapped upraised leg with special vindictiveness, drawing blood
from several dark-hued cut-welts around the side of the knee.
	Then stepping up to the nailed suspended waif he rubbed his cock on her
whipped and bitten mons, lubricated himself with her blood and slid into her already
abused twat.
	He fucked her for a few minutes, still holding the cord in his hand, not
touching her except with his immense prickhead lodged in her immature sex, then
he stepped back and whipped her again harder.
	He moved in and pushed his cock into her bloody pussyhole again, going
deeper, thrusting angrily.
	He spat in her crying face.
	He wrapped the electrical cord around her neck and strangle-fucked her.
	He stepped back and flogged her indiscriminately, calling her names,
slashing the cord across her upstretched arms and face and her hips and her
titties violently, slashing her nailed feet and her thighs and finally her little cunt,
beating the small flesh-mound until it wept blood before dropping the cord and
walking past the sagging trembling victim and through the doorway.
	He returned momentarily from the bathroom with the knife he'd been using
on Sandra and stood in the doorway.
	Maggie recognized the blade in his hand as the largest one in the set from the
kitchen downstairs - a twelve inch stainless steel weapon she hardly ever used.  She
was still babbling, pleading, begging, thinking he was going to finish the five year
old now, surprised to see him she move past the dangling nailed child toward the
bed where Sandra still lay in a stupor.
	The killer reached down and grabbed Sandra's ankle and yanked on it
pulling the semi-conscious teen across the bed toward him. She rolled on to her
belly and her arms flailed out on the sheets. Leaning over the bed he growled
meanly and began stabbing the teenager's thighs with decisive thrusts.  Sandra
wailed hopelessly into the duct tape gag and her blood spurted on to the bed.  She
tried to escape the killer but he held her easily sinking the blade into her calves and
into the sides of  her rippling legs, hacking into meat and muscle with wanton
violence.  With two quick sweeping motions he sliced both the teenager's achille
tendons then, pulling her mom's expensive Calvin Klein high heels off her and
tossing them aside he held up the teenager's left foot. He stabbed into the sole three
times and then with a savage downstroke of the big butcher knife he lopped off
Sandra's big toe and most of the two smaller toes next to it.
	Sandra screeched and cringed up against the headboard trying to pull both
her legs up away from the killer as blood spurted from her mutilated foot.
	Dan stabbed the knife right into her right foot through the sole, up near the
heel, crunching through grist and bone driving all the way through into 
the mattress effectively pinning his young teenage bitch victim to the bed.
	 Then he picked up the severed toes and turned to Maggie. 
	"Open your fuckin' mouth wide, dirtbag." 
	Pinching the kneeling pregnant woman's nose shut he waited for her to gasp
for breath and he crammed Sandra's bloody toes past Maggie's swollen lips.
Immediately he wrapped a strip of duct tape over the horrorstruck female's head
sealing her mouth tightly.
	"I'm sick and tired of telling you to shut up," he grunted.
	"Now I won't have to deal with it anymore."
	Maggie choked on her daughter's severed flesh, knees banging against
the carpet as she rocked from side to side, fishing hooks gashing into her nipples
and clit.
	Dan meanwhile reached out, pulled the knife out of Sandra's foot and
grabbed the screaming teen by both ankles twisting her and pulling her again
toward him until she lay on her belly on the edge of the bed in front of him on the
bloody sheets. He yanked her up on her knees and blood continued to shoot from
her mutilated feet and stabbed legs spiraling out over the white carpet below.
	Dan put the knife down on the night table beside him and picked up the
crowbar he'd tossed on the sheets moments before.
	Still gagged with panties and duct-tape Sandra looked back over her shoulder
as the killer put his engorged manmeat up to the small red anal indentation between
her asscheeks.
	Dan looked into the lovely dilated angel-blue eyes of his kneeling bleeding
teenage victim and relished the fact that he was about to rape her and kill her
brutally.  He had enjoyed torturing her in the bathroom while her mother had hung
unconscious.  Sandra had such a pretty face - and those cute little freckles.  He
remembered how she'd looked earlier that morning standing by the kitchen sink,
staring out the window, moving to the rhythm of the music sipping on her orange
juice.  He had enjoyed beating her with the electrical wire and cutting her with the
big knife from the kitchen. He had also enjoyed sitting on the toilet seat and pulling
her on to him to fuck her tight little pussy after he'd punished her. He had raped
her slowly and unforgivingly pulling her down on to him until he'd gouged out
her tight hymen. He'd called her all kinds of filthy names and slapped her face
and punched her and choked her as he drove himself up into the strong young
body.  She'd pissed herself while he'd fucked her lubricating the rape deliciously
and sobbing with pain and shame as he'd broken her.  And he'd made her kiss
him and tell him she loved him, holding her hands behind her and letting her ride his
needy erection with her trembling punished body. Now she was spewing blood on
his knees and ankles from her mutilated feet and stabbed legs.  
	Dan allowed his fury full vent now and he gripped Sandra's hip and
pushed his prick forward into her virgin shithole.  She was tight down there,
blissfully tight.  He growled and plowed into her opening her drawing muted
cries of suffering from his teenage victim and she continued to look back at him
even as he raised the crowbar high over his head.
	"Nggghhhggrrrr!" Maggie gag-shrieked trying not to bite down on
Sandra's severed toes in her mouth.
	On the wall by the bathroom door Talia whined, her legs pulling against her
nailed feet, her whipped body writhing - she closed her eyes tightly and turned her
face against her upraised bound arm.
	The thumps of the crowbar against Sandra's back when they came were
sickening, a loud meaty pounding, slow-paced and merciless.
	"Fucking little pigggg!" Dan growled inhumanly as he pounded the
kneeling teenage girl with the metal bar even as he drove his cock deep into
her anus, gouging her out even as he sought to break her.
	Sandra's pretty head fell forward as one shoulderblade snapped.  Her body
spasmed and jerked but Dan held her in place and pushed into her masterfully all
the way up to his balls smacking the crowbar into her spine, into her arms,
into her sides, against the back of her skull.  He slid out of her asshole
and jammed his prick deep into her already violated cuntsleeve and bashed the sides
of her legs.  He broke her left arm with one definitive blow.  He slammed the
gouging tooth of the crowbar into her cheek. Bleeding and howling in her gagged
throat the teenage girl gripped the edge of the bed trying to pull away from the
killer but already her movements were weak and misdirected.  Two more blows to
the head and she slumped across the sheets blood spilling from her nostrils, her skull
fractured, one eye filling up dark red.
	In awe and horror Maggie watched the savage destruction of her teenage
daughter.  She watched Dan pound the sharp end of the crowbar into Sandra's
back ripping flesh and snapping her spine.  She watched him gleefully bashing
in her ribcage.  Then she watched him spin her dying daughter over on her back
and push her thighs open to enter her, leaning over her to pound the crowbar
into the front of her body brutally, violently, smashing her mutilated tits to a pulp,
bashing into her face until blood and bits of flesh began to spatter the headboard of
the bed, the wall, the window drapes and the ceiling and the blades of the slowly
spinning ceiling fan. Maggie watched, unable to look away as he drove the crowbar
into Sandra's gutsac.  The horrible initial ripping sound was followed by a liquid
squelching as he pried out the freckled teen's intestines still savagely fucking her and
finally beginning to orgasm, a smile on his demented face as he levered out her
insides all over the blood soaked bed.
	As he came he tossed the crowbar aside and slid out of the dying teenager's
body turning to Maggie, his cock spurting thick wads of mancum.
	"Here ya go, scumbag," he growled. "Unhhh! Ahh! That's what it takes
to get me off! Uhhhh! That's what it fuckin' takes!"
	His hot sperm spat up on Maggie's cheeks and forehead and into her
wide tear-blurred eyes as he stood over her.
	It spattered her sore fish-hooked tits and her belly.
	Dan reached down and tore the duct tape off the kneeling pregnant woman's
cheeks and Maggie immediately spat up her teenage daughter's severed toes.
	"Suck me clean," Dan said darkly.
	There was nothing else for her.  She lurched forward to do as he asked.
	On the bed a spasmic burst of energy throbbed through Sandra's body.
	The disemboweled teen sat up and watched the killer standing over her
kneeling mom, his cock filling the subservient blonde pregnant woman's mouth,
Maggie's head bobbing slavishly back and forth. Behind them, up on the wall by the
bathroom door Talia was nailed, one leg up high, her small body covered
with dark repetitive stripes. Sandra tried to get up.  Torn pink and red gut streamers
slithered out of her as she came halfway up to a sitting position.  A weird groaning
sound came from deep in her throat.  Her stabbed bloody legs twitched like the
limbs of a disconnected marionette.
	A few short hours earlier her biggest preoccupation was whether her mom
would let her buy the hip hop CD her friend Carrie had been telling her about,
the one they'd been listening to after school yesterday on the radio, on the
way home from school - now she was facing the eternal abyss of death.
	Maggie looked up into her dying daughter's once lovely face.
	Just  a month earlier Sandra had turned sixteen and Jerry and Maggie
had taken to dinner at Mandolini's, and the waiters had brought out a big
birthday cake and the candles had gleamed in Sandra's big blue eyes.
	The icing of the cake had smeared one freckled cheek and she'd smiled
so pretty.
	Now those eyes were rimmed with blood, staring in terror, and Sandra's skull
was caved in from the crowbar blows and Maggie was tasting her young daughter's
blood on the killer's tumescent cock.
	"Goddamn," Dan muttered turning to watch Sandra reach up and peel off
the duct tape that still gagged her.
	For a few seconds the gutted teen just sat there, blood streaming out her nose
and mouth like dark mercury, knifed legs jittering feverishly.
	Then she looked at Maggie, brows arched, head tilted mournfully, and she
gasped a single tremulous word:
	"M-muhhmmmaaaa -" and she slid sideways off the sheets to the floor, her
body hitting the carpet with a thump, and she sighed her last breath, eyeballs rolling
back, blood bubbling in her lips as her jaw closed and open, closed and open then
quivered and went still, mouth gaping stupidly, her pupils registering the final
image above her - the ceiling fan, spattered with her blood - spinning - spinning -
	Dangling from the ropes, surging against the wood nails in her feet, Talia
stared silently.  Hot drops of Sandra's blood had spattered across the naked five
year old's belly and thighs and she could feel them slowly oozing down to drip off
her to the floor.
	They felt like tiny red snails moving on her skin.
	Tiny red living snails painting her as she hung in eerie stillness.


6.

	"Consider yourself lucky, pig," Dan said. "Lizard Man hasn't come out yet."
	Maggie looked up at him with confused horror.
	"I really fuckin' wanted him to but he didn't."
	"That's not real," Maggie blurted. "There's no L-Lizard Man.  Its all in your
mind."
	"It is real bitch. I know He'll come out when I kill your little one."
	"No, pleeease. Not Talia, pleease. Not Talia."
	"Shut up," he snarled, stepping back to hoist his pregnant victim up off her
knees.
	Maggie groaned as the ropes dug savagely into her hefty titmeat lifting her
bodily off the floor. The fishhooks snagged deeper into her nipples and clit with
excruciating force. Before she could mentally deal with it she was suspended in mid
air from the ropes groaning in agony, milk and blood dribbling down her chest, the
bruises the crowbar had left on her arms and legs and shoulders spreading purple
and crimson on her pale flesh.  She looked across the room at her traumatized five
year old.  
	The child hung, nailed to the wall in frozen catatonic silence, eyes downcast.
	In horrific awe, Maggie watched the killer pick up a dirty two-by-four up off
the floor near Talia.
	"Don't hurt her," Maggie pleaded weakly. "Don't, pleeease..."
	"No need to worry about that right now."
	He said as he sauntered back across the room toward Maggie.

 	"I'm not gonna hurt her - I'm gonna hurt you, you stupid - fucking - cuntt -"
	He yanked on the line that led to the fishhook in her clit and tore the small
rusted hook out of her cunt to pull it up and stab it through her lower lip, tugging
on the thin nylon fishing line so that her nipples now pulled upward toward her
punished mouth.
	Smiling cruelly and without hesitation he swung the board he'd just picked
up across Maggie's fat round belly.  The hard wood whapped against her and
instantly she spasmed and shrieked as a flood of piss and amniotic fluid gushed out
of her.
	"Yeahhh!" the killer shouted and swung the board harder, six more times.
	"Shit that fuckin' baby out for me, cunt! Come on! Shit it out!"
	Suddenly there was a chime sound from downstairs.
	The doorbell.
	Maggie shut her eyes tightly writhed as birthing cramps rocked through her
and she made low moaning sounds and she hung there waiting to see what would
happen next.
	When she opened her eyes she saw that the killer had taken Jerry's house
robe from the closet and thrown it on; he was tying off the robe's cloth belt around
his waist.
	"We'll just have to see who it is, won't we?"
	He moved to the front window of the house in the bedroom and peered
down through the levelor blinds.
	"Mmm," he said. "This is gonna get real interesting." Moving back past
Maggie he slid the board he'd been hitting her with between her ankles and the
back of her thighs and he stuffed her hook-snagged mouth with the same panties
she'd spit out earlier, pushing the garment deep into her throat until she gagged. 
Then he bent down and picked up a few strands of rope off the floor.
	"Just keep real fuckin' quiet and hold on to that board for me, mom. I'll be
back in a few."
	He moved out of the room and closed the door behind him just as the front
doorbell rang again.
	Maggie heard him moving down the steps.  She tugged helplessly against
the ropes that kept her bruised arms and elbows tightly bound behind her but
eventually stopped because any movement made the ropes that she hung from dig
deep into her coned-out mammaries.  Her big paps were already dark purple, like
two swollen eggplants jutting from her chest. The pierced nipples
were swollen nearly three times their size occasionally spewing blood or milk
and the hook driven through her lower lip felt as though it would tear the
whole lower part of her face right off if she turned right or left.
	"Ughhh - aag -" she grunted.  She was already dilating, her body 
responding to the violence the killer had done with the two-by-four which he'd left
nestled in her bound legs, the cramp waves coming quicker.  Her baby had started
to move down into the canal as more fluid spilled from her.  Maggie easily grasped
that if she didn't get to a hospital soon both she and the baby would probably die. 
And it didn't look like that was going to happen.  It was clear the killer meant to
have himself a psychotic murder feast, an all out blowout, which she, even with all
her training and degrees was totally helpless to stop.  She began to realize her last
visions and last sentient thoughts as a human being were going to be the sickeningly
obscene perversions of this lunatic that had invaded her home.  And then she
thought of Jerry and what a horror it would be for him to come home and find
them all obscenely torn to pieces - perhaps arranged in some macabre pose -
	Who was downstairs? Maggie thought, trying not to give in to the
despair that threatened to engulf her.  Who is he going to open the door to?
	She knew if it had been police outside he wouldn't have been rushing to
greet them.
	Maybe he was making the mistake that would ruin his plans.  Maybe
someone would see something and call 911. She clung illogically to that hope.
	And then she heard an odd wet sound across the room and looked up to see
Talia still hanging inertly, nailed legs spread wide on the wall.
	The five year old was shitting and pissing herself, streaks of dark fluid
running down the stucco surface behind her and into the edge of the wood trim
baseboard.
	Dizzy and in pain Maggie began to cry silently trying not to look
at Sandra's carcass on the floor beside the bed - trying desperately not to look -
but finally unable to avoid it.
	Then through her helpless tears she began to pray.


7.
	The two black women solemnly walked up the Weylan home's driveway to
the front door.  In their conservative neatly ironed outfits and black half-heel pumps
and small pocketbooks they seemed somehow birdlike and yet graceful.
	"You really think these people livin' here need prayer?" Aisha questioned her
companion rhetorically as she rang the doorbell.
	It was late morning and this was the fourth house they'd tried.
	"Everyone needs prayer," Pauline replied sternly, avoiding the cynicism in
Aisha's glance, though feeling some of that cynicism herself and not admitting it.
	Neither one of them saw the slight movement of the blinds in the bedroom
window above them.  Their faith made them have a kind of innocent tunnel vision
and that in turn made them often oblivious of the world's more subtle, if deadlier,
textures. 
	Aisha was tired of this neigborhood.  She was sure rich white folk weren't
interested in the Gospel, only in big cars and fancy houses.  Her faith wasn't as
strong as sister Pauline's this day. Besides it was getting hot.  The sun beat down
on her cocoa-hued face and neck and she was already sweating.
	"You never know where the Good Lord's leading you and why," Pauline
said.  Her white dress flared around her legs as the wind caught it. A pin on her
lapel said "A Witness for Christ.".
	Aisha knew most people around this neighborhood wanted nothing to
do with Jehova Witnesses, but still she'd put on her white high-collared blouse that
morning and her crisp purple skirt and her best Sunday shoes and gotten in the
old Mazda with Pauline and driven out to Langmore's Point Park past the
swamp.  It was true that people here didn't really listen to the message but
sometimes they opened their doors and sometimes they offered donations.
	Pauline and Aisha had been inducted into the Witnesses in their early
teens and now in their early twenties, still pretty and innocent they
presented a charming picture as they moved in the wealthy suburban
neighborhood.
	Pauline waited a full minute before ringing again.
	She'd seen the black Lexus SUV in the driveway and thought somebody
was probably home.  Probably the housewife cleaning up after the kids
left for school, watching TV and gettin' ready to go shoppin'.
	She looked over at Aisha.  Her companion had a lighter complexion than
her own, a paler shade of chocolate, Pauline sometimes said jokingly.  Both
black girls were pretty and shapely, Pauline well endowed in every respect,
Aisha with a smaller bust but plenty of counterweight in the rear.  Some of the
other Witnesses were jealous because Pauline and Aisha had scored better
in recruiting new converts than some of the other teams.  They attributed the
success, at least partially, to the physical beauty of the young women.  Although
no one could deny they could speak with the tongues of angels too.
	That was why they'd been sent to Langmore Point Park, Aisha thought. 
Jealousy - that green eyed demon. Sister Jones and Brother Cook knew the girls
would come back empty handed. Aisha didn't think Sister Jones and Brother
Cook liked them very much. 
	 Pauline thought differently.  She thought Sister Jones and Brother Cook
were trying to teach her and Aisha some humility, putting them through a test.
Pauline thought that maybe she and Aisha had gotten a bit swell-headed from their
early triumphs in the mission. She knew this neighborhood would yield no converts. 
But maybe if they could come back with some donations for the ministry - well that
would be good for everybody.
	The door came open.
	An odd looking white man stood in the doorway in a house robe.
	Before Pauline could react she saw the man grab Aisha by her wrist and
yank her inside. Aisha dropped her valise and pocketbook in the doorway and the
Watchtower pamphlets spilled on to the tiled entranceway. The man had a big
butcher knife and he had swung Aisha around, her back against him, and he had put
the blade to her neck.
	He growled at Pauline and his voice sent chills running through her.
	"Get in here you stupid nigger cow or I'll cut your friend's head off."
	Pauline looked around, took a step back.  There was no one around
on the street.  No one to see what was happening.
	"Now!" the man shouted. "Or I'll kill her."
	"I'm comin'," she replied quickly. "I'm comin'."
	"Pick that trash off the floor and close the door behind you."
	Pauline picked up Aisha's valise, her pocketbook, and the pamphlets and
closed the door just as the man asked.
	Her eyes had trouble adjusting to the interior of the house after the sunlit
street outside.  The air conditioned coolness chilled her face.
	"Don't hurt her, mister," Pauline said following the man as he pulled
Aisha into the living room behind him, moving backwards, Aisha forced to
move awkwardly up on her toes, one of her shoes lost in the struggle near
the doorway.  Aisha's eyes were wide and she was making a small quivery
sound in her throat.  Pauline could see a thin line of blood where the knife
blade had nicked her friend's skin, up by her jaw.
	"I am gonna hurt her. I'm gonna hurt her real bad. I'm gonna hurt both of
you stinking niggercunts until you pray to die."
	"Oh please God mister, don't! Don't!"
	Pauline didn't understand what had made this man so angry at them.  She
knew a lot of people didn't like the Witnesses but something like this had never
happened to her.
	"Shut up you stupid cow and put down that religious shit and
pick up that piece of rope there on the chair."
	One of Aisha's pretty hoop ear-rings came off and tinkled to the floor.
	As Pauline moved quickly to obey their captor he put his mouth next
to Aisha's ear and licked it.
	She flinched at the unwanted contact.  The man smelled terrible and the
knife he had on her and his hands were dirty and smeared with what looked
like blood.
	"Hold your little arms out in front of you," he told Aisha. "Way out
in front of you, you stupid little nigger.  You're real pretty for a nigger,
you know that...mm-hmm - real pretty - I don't think I've had nigger meat
before.  No. Don't think so. This is gonna be my first time."
	Aisha lifted her arms out in front of her, hands clasped together, pink palms
pressed against each other as in prayer, just as the man demanded.  She was dizzy
and scared and as she was held against him she could feel his hardness against her
rump even through the thick terrycloth robe he was wearing.
	Dan liked his captives graceful hands. Her fingernails were perfectly
manicured and painted a dark shade of wine red.
	Aisha had smooth beautiful skin.  He was going to enjoy cutting it.
	"Tie her arms by the wrists," he told Pauline. "Tie er tight, you 
bitch, you hear me. Nice and tight.  Yes.  Pull that rope around a coupla
times more.  Stupid fuckin' nigger.  Now get that other piece of rope there
on the floor. Yes that one - and tie her ankles.  Don't look at me like
that you stupid jungle bunny.  You heard what I told you now do it
or I'll cut your little friend here from ear to ear." 
	Shivering with terror Pauline did as the man ordered winding the
rope six times around Aisha's bare ankles, just above the ankle bone and
then looping three times between her friend's legs tightening the grip
of the rope on Aisha's slender limbs.
	Dan dragged his captive to the closet in the hallway between
the living room and the office and he kicked open the double doors.  He hoisted
Aisha's arms high up over the edge of one of the louvred portals and into the gap
between it and the top hinge trapping Aisha against the closet, forcing the
black girl to stand on her toes, one shoe gone, arms stretched upward as he
turned to deal with Pauline.
	The young negress staggered away from him, backing toward the door.
	"No," she uttered. "No. Don't do it. Please."
	"Don't you move away from me, bitch," he growled. "Stand still or
I'll go back in there and cut your friend's guts out on the floor, you hear me?"
	"Please, mister - Don't hurt us."
	"Start taking your clothes off, nigger. Come on. Don't make me have to do
it for you, cause you know I will."
	Pauline backed up against the wall next to the front door and he moved
in close.
	"Come on," he taunted. "I wanna see those big tits. Show em to me."
	Pauline grimaced as the terror moved through her and as the robed man
leaned forward she saw his big knife gleam in the sunlight pouring in through
the glass panel beside the doorway.  If she turned and made for the door he'd
be on her and that knife would be deep in her back before she could even
turn the knob.  And Aisha would be next. Even though she was only a year older
than her companion Pauline felt protective of her companion, like an older sister.
She wanted to pray to ask the Lord for guidance but there was no time.  No time to
think. No time to pray.  There was only one thing she could do.
	Dan licked his lips and smiled as he watched the black woman slowly reach
down and take the hem of her cream-colored dress. Reticently, she began to pull it
up, gradually revealing her voluptuous ebony body as she pulled the garment
nervously over her head and held it briefly before letting it drop to the floor beside
her. The I'm A Witness For Christ pin tumbled free of the dress and rolled across
the carpet. Pauline stood before him in black lace bra and panties and simple black
pumps. She'd wished she'd worn panty hose but it had been too hot for it.  Now
she felt so naked under the scrutinizing gaze of the agressor. She was trembling and
her hazel brown eyes looked at him then looked quickly, shyly down at the floor as
she clutched her arms in front of her.
	He reached out and pulled her arms free.
	"Put em down," he said softly. "At your sides - And keep em there."
	Holding her by her shoulder he touched the tip of the knife to the strip
of brassiere between her big tits.  She cowered against the wall and made
a whimpering sound.  With a deft upward movement he cut the bra in half
and her paps tumbled free, two 40 double D cups of sweet smelling black girl
titmeat capped with sweet dark chocolate nipple crowns.
	Her shoulders twitched with the instinct to raise her arms and cover herself
but she managed to obey her attacker gripping the sides of her thighs to keep
her hands from flying up.
	"Holy fuck," he snickered. "That's quite a rack for a Bible thumper." 
	The two split halves of the bra hung on her shoulders and she shut
her eyes tight as he stroked her nipples with the back of his hand gently,
stiffening them and making little shudders run through his captive female.
	She peeked through half closed eyelids to see him lean down and saw him
stick out his long tongue before she closed her eyes again and pressed her cheek
against the stucco wall behind her.  His tongue slowly explored each of her
upstanding nubs and then his teeth grazed them and his breath moistened and
heated them.
	"Uwhgg dear Lord," she groaned.
	Still licking on her he reached down and seized the waistband of her panties,
pulling it out and putting the knife to the silky fabric.
	"Lets see what else you're hiding, holy girl." 
	He cut her panties down the middle and then tore them off. exposing her
thickly matted pubic patch.
	"Mmm - spread those legs open for me," he growled.
	"Please," she muttered. "Please please -" her head tilted, her eyes coming
halfway open and pleading.
	"Do it, nigger. Do what I tell you to do and do it now."
	He waited for her to obey studying her pretty African face, slightly flared
nostrils and thick trembling lips, her big sad eyes and downturned mouth.
	"Pleease..."
	He looked right at her demandingly and she yielded spreading for him,
her high-heeled feet moving apart on the floor,  she sinking slightly lower as
he reached out to stroke her soft pubic hair, to cup her warm sex, to push his
middle finger into her slit as he gripped her pubis making her moan.
	The bitch might have been holy but she was no virgin.
	Though only minutes had elapsed since Dan had fuck-slaughtered Maggie's
pretty teenage daughter up in the bedroom and climaxed deliciously he was already
fully erect and dangerously aroused.
	"Jesus - pleease - oh - Jesus - oh God -" Pauline whimpered.
	"You're not supposed to take the Lord's name in vain, cunt," he taunted
slow-rubbing his digit against her hooded clit.  He figured she wasn't even
twenty five yet.  She was a sweet young big-titted nigger mule though maybe
slightly older than her companion who hung by her arms in the hallway out of sight.
	"Pauline?" Aisha cried out as if on cue.  "Pauline what's he doing? Are you
OK? Don't hurt us, mister. Please don't hurt us. Don't hurt my friend."
	"Pauline," Dan said smiling at the girl in front of him. "Such a pretty name."
Still stroking her, pinching her left nipple with the thumb and index of the hand that
held the knife.
	"Such a nice name for such a nice girl - mmmm - What's your friend's
name, Pauline? Huh? You can tell me. Yes you can. You can tell me."
	"A-Aisha," Pauline whispered.
	"Aisha. Mmm. Yes. I like those African names. They're so - musical -
How're you doing over there, Aisha? You comfortable?"
	"Please, mister," Aisha groaned. "Please don't hurt her.  Let her go. Please.
We didn't mean nothin'. We're sorry we intruded on your property. Don't hurt
my friend. Pleease."
	"Hurt her?" Dan chuckled, his voice weirdly unemotional.  He loosened the
cord around his waist and pulled the robe open.  His massive cock stood stiff
and upright between the terrycloth flaps. "I'm gonna fuck this cow up the ass - I
don't know if that's gonna hurt her. S' that gonna hurt you, cow?"
	"Pleeease," Pauline groaned pleadingly.
	"Don't your nigger boyfriends give it to you like this every night?"
	Pauline sobbed helplessly.  Her boyfriend Thomas had been killed in a car
accident on Smith St. two years earlier.  That was one of the reasons she'd become
a Witness.
	"Turn around and bend over," the killer continued heartlessly, oblivious of
the reason for his victim's emotional response but enormously pleased by it. "Grab
your ankles. Stupid nigger. Put your head against the wall down there - yeah - that's
right.  Spread wider. Wider, goddamn you. I know you nigger girls can spread your
legs a lot wider than that."
	Pauline obeyed crying soflty as she moved into the position he demanded.
Tears rolled into her straight black hair.
	Dan came up behind her as she found her balance and put his cock up
to the pink button between her meaty asscheeks.  He grabbed one hip and put
the knife-tip to the side of her belly.
	Her ankles hurt and the edges of her high heels bit into the sides of her feet.
	"If you move or try to get away I'll cut you open, you hear me scumbag?"
	"Y-yes - I won't move - I won't move - I won't move -"
	"You'd better not, you filthy coon cunt and what's more I want you ask
me for it. Ask me for it nice.  Say - please fuck my worthless nigger ass, sir.
Say it or I'll cut the words out of you."
	"P-please - ughh - please f-fuck - m-my - m-my - worthless - nigger - ass -
sir..."
	Dan pushed forward into his victim impaling her against the wall with a
thump and making her give out a series of short staccato cries as he pounded his
tool into her bit by bit.
	"Going house to house sellin' God," he snarled. "This is what you get, pig.
Unnhhh. This is what you fuckin' get right - here - unhhh."
	"Pauline!" Aisha cried from the hallway. "Oh Godd Pauline!"
	"Shut your face before I shut it for you," he shouted back. "There's no
fucking God here.  Only the Lizard Man out to take what's his. Move against
me, Pauline.  Jerk me off with your asshole - ahhh - damn - nigger bitch - yess!"
	The black woman moved gracefully against her assailant her hips rolling
to his thrusts.  She bit her lip and concentrated on grinding back against him,
even though his hard white cock hurt her as it plowed deeper.  It was bigger and
longer than her boyfriend Thomas's had been.  Bigger and longer than any man
she'd made love to - and she'd gotten around a lot before her conversion.
	Dan loved the way she moved and how the sleeve of rectal meat clung
to his cock.  No wonder white guys liked to fuck black girls.  Pauline was
a heavenly fuck.  Too bad she'd gone holy.  A cow like this could have probably
netted some pimp in the ghetto serious bucks.  As he slammed in and out of her he
thought about what he was planning to do with his holy girl captives and
the images running through his mind made him drive into Pauline with
savage delight.
	"You two bitches interrupted my party," he said loudly so that Aisha could
hear. "Now you're just gonna have to be a part of it."
	In the hallway Aisha could hear her friend crying and she could hear the
fleshy sounds of coitus, the mean porcine grunts of the assailant.  She struggled with
the overwhelming fear that made her tremble and whine and press her face against
the hard wood of the door she was bound to.  What did the strange man's words
mean? Who was the Lizard Man? What party had they interrupted?  Maybe he
didn't live in this house, Aisha suddenly realized.  Maybe he had invaded it and
killed the true inhabitants.  Maybe some of the people who lived here were still alive,
or hiding, up in the second floor.  She thought she'd heard something up there
earlier but she wasn't sure.
	Silently she began to say the Lord's prayer over and over.
	She knew that the man would be coming for her soon, very soon and
that she'd have to face his violence like Pauline was doing now.  She didn't know
if she would be able to handle it.  Aisha was a virgin - or almost a virgin.  She'd
only done that once - or had it done to her - when she was twelve. The memory
of that incident sickened her. 
	 A wave of nausea moved through her.
	Deliver me, Lord, she prayed.
	Deliver me - please - deliver me.
	Just then she heard Pauline's shrill desperate scream.
	In the living room, by the front door, Dan tilted his head back and enjoyed
the moment.
	Pauline's asshole had tightened around his shaft powerfully as he'd stabbed
his knife into the victim's fat asscheek, stabbing almost half an inch of metal in the
nigger.
	"Don't you move, pig," he roared through her wailing scream, looking down
at her, yanking the knife out and plunging it in again. "I wanna carve up that ass."
	He managed to stab Pauline three more times before the terrified negress
bolted unexpectedly, pushed him away and ran across the living room toward the
kitchen, blood dripping down her legs.
	He ran after her and found her by the Weylan's expensive glass-top stove
wielding a basting fork she'd taken from a drawer beside her.
	"Stay away!" she screeched. "You hear me?"
	She had taken a combat stance and she had a wild and angry look in her
eyes.
	"Ahhh," Dan said smiling, putting his bloody knife down on the kitchen
counter. "Now the ghetto comes out."
	"That's right, motherfucker.  I will put this in your balls if you don't let
me and Aisha go right now."
	"That's not gonna happen, bitch.  Drop that thing while you can still move
your hand."
	Slowly he inched toward her.
	"You're not gonna disappoint me, are you?" he asked teasingly. "I thought
you knew your religion. Good book says If someone offends thee, turn the other
cheek' not run in the kitchen and get a fuckin' basting fork."
	"It also says Get thee away from me, Satan - get thee away!" Pauline's
voice had lost the edge of confidence.  Her eyes darted around looking for escape
and she realized she was backing into a corner.  All that was behind her was
the pantry closet's partially open door.  The exit to the rear yard was across
the room. 
	She tried to face her attacker down but Dan just moved closer, fully enjoying
the sudden comfrontation.  The little bitch didn't have much brains. But she had
spunk. He had to give her that much.  More than ever he wanted to hurt her,
to fuck her all up.  His cock was turgidly erect and ready for action.
	"Stay away!" Pauline said with slightly less conviction and as Dan moved
closer she lunged at him and tried to stab him with the fork.
	Effortlessly he grabbed her arm by the wrist and wrenched the weapon free.
It clattered to the floor and Pauline's mouth formed a small helpless o' as he swung
her into the sink slamming his weight into her, grabbing her head to smash it down
against the chrome faucet then swinging her back to slam a full-strength punch into
her pretty wide-eyed somewhat bovine face.  She flew back against the pantry door
and through it and he followed her into the small cramped room silently punching
her.  Dan was easily six times stronger than his nigger victim.  She had no chance to
protect herself in any way and that's how he liked it.  He beat her unmercifully
ramming her against the pantry shelves knocking canned goods to the floor, making
the bitch wail and plead as he pounded her.  
	As always he enjoyed a good nude workout with a victim.  A naked man
beating up a naked woman less than half his size was par for the course
in Dan's mind. And a white man beating up a piece of pretty nigger tail was
outstanding. Reminded Dan of the old Southern Confederacy, where a white man
could buy himself a black female and use her in any way he saw fit.
	He rammed his big fists into Pauline's defenseless body, gut punching,
thigh punching, even cunt punching her evading her flailing arms to pump
his blows into her, eventually grabbing her by her hair to smack her head
back against the shelves. 
	Yeah. Nigger women had been given too many rights these days.  Too much
affirmative action bullshit.  They needed to be brought back to this.  Reminded
of their place in the scheme of things. 
	Bleeding from a cut in her forehead where he'd banged her into the sink's
chrome spigot and from smaller cuts in her cheeks,  Pauline pled
in vain with her assailant as he decimated her, swinging her around to punch
her back and send her flying against the pantry shelves, staggering to her
knees among the cans of Campbell soups and Hunts tomato paste and 
Chef-Boy-R-Dee noodles.  He pumped two karate kicks into her, the first
into the side of her head lifting her off the floor, the second into her
belly ramming her into the shelves and winding her.  Then he bent over her
grabbed her by the hair and began to rub his cock on her bloody face.
	"Lick me, nigger," he ordered, breathing heavily with exertion. "Come on.
Lick. Up and down. That's it. Lick the big white cock that owns you. Make me nice
and hard. Get your face under me - mmm - lick my balls - Ahh yeah I love those
big fat niggerlips on my balls -"
	He wanted to hurt the black girl badly now, as badly as possible and he
flung her out of the pantry closet back into the kitchen.
	"Get up on your feet," he snarled picking up his knife from the counter.
She'd lost her shoes in the scuffle and she rose weakly to lean back against the
kitchen sink barefoot, sobbing softly and bleeding.
	"Pauline?" Aisha called out from the hallway between the living room and
the kitchen. "Answer me, girl. You there?"
	"Keep quiet!" Dan bellowed. "Pauline's busy."
	Dan moved in on Pauline, moved up against her and put his knife to her
throat and took her head by her hair and smeared his lips on her mouth, kissing her
with obscene passion, his cock pressing against her warm belly.  She melted
helplessly against him.  He thrust his tongue down her throat and felt her blood
trickle from the cut on her forehead on to his cheek.
	"You're gonna bend over for me like before," he whispered savagely in her
ear. "Just like before in the living room, with your head between your legs and
your ass up in the air, ok?"
	She nodded, trembling.
	"Only this time you won't run away, will you? Hmm? You won't run away
from ole Dan this time?"
	She shook her head as tears spilled from her eyes.
	"Say: No, sir. I'll never run from you again.  Say it for me."
	"I - I'll nev-never run from y-you again."
	"No.  No you won't. This time you'll take the pain for Jesus.  That's right.
Offer it all up to Jesus you stupid fucking nigger cow.  Bend the fuck over."
	He watched, amazed as he always was at how easily women could be
reduced to obedient automatons.  Incredibly, Pauline turned and faced the sink,
standing where Sandra had stood that morning drinking her juice and moving
to the music from her walkman headphones, and the beaten negress bent
down, her head against the sink cabinet, her legs spread wide open, her knife-slashed
asscheeks ready to receive more abuse.
	"One more thing, pig," Dan told her, standing masterfully over her. "I don't
want to hear a goddamn peep out of your nigger mouth.  You understand? Not
one. First noise I hear come from you I'll take this knife and cut Aisha's belly
open and rip her guts out - I'll punish Aisha and not you.  You got it?"
	"Yes, s-sir," Pauline replied weakly.
	Dan knew she probably meant to follow through on her promise but he
didn't trust her.  It was never smart to trust a nigger. So he dashed back to the
living room for a couple of more strands of rope and he secured Pauline's head to
the sink cabinet locked knob-handles and he tied her wrists together at her doubled
over waist.
	Then he took a chair from the breakfast table in the corner of the kitchen
and pulled it up to Pauline.  He was gonna work on her for a while and he
wanted to be comfortable.  
	Setting the chair up directly behind his victim he sat down and leaned back.
	"You've got a nice pair of legs, Pauline," he said thickly, raising his blade to
her.
	"They won't be so nice when I'm finished with em."
 

	It was slow patient knife work.  The kind of work Dan excelled in.
	He made his victim spread her legs as far apart as possible and he began and
she could watch each cruel stroke, cut, slice and dig of the kitchen knife, seeing it
upside down, suffering for him with stoic silence.
	He leaned in first, to lick up her already bleeding wounds, to remind himself
of the hot taste of her, to lick into her exposed cunt slit and asshole and to rub
his face against her smooth rump.
	Then:
	Two long cuts on her right leg from her kneehollow to her buttcheek,
the blade making a thin scratchy sound as it moved across her smooth black skin.
	Slow smooth and deliberate.
	Two more on her left leg.
	Blood trickling sparsely from the wounds, her thigh muscles twitching.
	A single drop spattering the floor between her bare feet.
	This wasn't so bad, she thought.  She could take it.
	Then a series of short quick nicks to her calves, as she bit her lip to keep
the cries from escaping her throat.
	Dan held her by her hip and gave her a few thrusting stabs in both thighs,
shallow, prodding her, testing her.
	He rubbed his cock in the streams of blood that snaked down her limbs.
	"Very nice, Pauline," he grunted. "Very - fucking - nice - I like a girl that can
stand up to my knife and take her pain quiet."
	He studied the firm full masses of her buttcheeks for a moment then
plunged the blade in and out four times in quick succession.  Waited.  Gave
her four more. Waited again a little longer.  Gave her three deeper stabs, almost
a full inch of the blade.
	Her eyes pled with his.
	He smiled cruelly and sliced six short lines across both asscheeks.
	Blood dripped from the tangles of pubic hair in her crotch.
	Small puddles of blood accrued around both her feet now.
	He pressed the bloody blade to her mouth and said:
	"Lick."
	And she did.
	Licked his blade obediently clean.
	He stab-slashed at her thighs propping his knees against the kitchen
cabinet to keep her legs from closing.  Her leg muscles flexed and sagged and her
feet slipped on the bloody tiles, and he sat on the edge of the chair and lowered his
cock over her upside down face.
	"Lick my piss slit."
	And as she did he reached out and tweaked up one of her pussy lips,
stretching it away from her, bringing the blade tip to it to pierce it twice,
slice it and pierce it again.
	"Keep licking nigger."
	He tweaked up her other pussy lip and impaled it with the knife and
she made a small urgent sound. Yanking the blade free he plunged it back
into the pulpy flesh then carved out a small gash.  Her blood spurted on his
hands and arms and thighs, on his cock and he just said:
	"Keep licking. Don't stop."
	He stabbed her asscheeks a couple of times more and returned to
her sex organ.
	"Shouldn't have run from me."
	Spreading and holding both bleeding pussyflaps open with his free hand he
began to poke at the sexmeat hard with the knifetip, piercing and rending the
vulnerable womanmeat.
	"Shouldn't have run..."
	Poking and poking, covering the surface of Pauline's sex organ with
tiny blood-pulsing nicks.	
	Cruelly he teased the small hooded nub with the knife tip.
	"Mmmmm," he moaned. "Such a pretty little clit..."
	He licked his lips - waited - then savagely impaled the small woman-meat with
sudden viciousness.
	Pauline whimpered as her cunt sputtered blood.
	She was hissing, eyes shut tight and still licking his piss slit when he put
the tip of the blade to her violated anal aperture.
	"Take what I give you."
	And he pushed the sharp blade up her asshole, slowly, forcefully, burying
it in her.
	She went way up on her toes, eyes wide, not breathing, mouth gaping.
	When the blade was halfway in he rose, picked the basting fork from the floor
and began stabbing her legs, her ass and her back with it stroking himself as
he punished his captive nigger bitch, wounding her with the weapon she'd intended
using on him.
	Faithfully, beautifully, she remained silent for him even as she cringed and
rocked and choked on the rope that held her by the neck to the sink cabinet, her
bound hands clenched up behind her.
	"Offer it up to Jesus," he snarled softly slamming the basting fork tines into
her plump calves and kneehollows.  Blood spurted on to the white sink cabinet,
across the floor, on the chairs and tables. " - to Jesus, you stupid fucking nigger."
	Harder, deeper thrusts into the muscle mass of her leg, into her arched
feet, into the sides of her thighs.
	Finally he seized the knife and tore it out of her asshole.
	It took all she had to keep from screeching her head off rising up on her toes
again as he put his cock to her cunthole, ready to take her now as God fully
intended a man should take a woman.
	"Ready for me?"
	She nodded and he entered, penetrated, gouged, slammed inward up to
his balls lubed by her blood ramming her against the sink, the knife still in his
hand.
	"Aww Godd Pauline," Aisha moaned pitifully from the hallway.  She could
hear the wet slicing sounds and her companion's muted whimpers and yelps.
She could only imagine what the assailant was doing but knew that whatever it
was could only be more horrible than anything she could be thinking.
	"What he doing to you?" she wailed. "Ohh Lord what he doing to you?
Why you so quiet?"
	She heard steps suddenly and turned to see him coming up the hallway, nude,
smeared with blood and enraged.
	"You want to know what I'm doing to her? Huh? Is that gonna shut your
fucking miserable whining ass, bitch?"
	He reached up and pulled her bound wrists up off the closet door and he
turned her and grabbed her by the collar of her blouse and dragged her toward
the kitchen.	
	When she saw Pauline bent over,  neckbound to the sink cabinet, face
between blood-slashed legs, blood all over everything Aisha's legs went wobbly and
Dan had to practically hold her up on her feet.
	"Since you're so fucking curious then you get to join the program," he
sneered. "Raise your arms up in the air."
	She did immediately as she was told and his knife hand came
sweeping down to gash the front of her blouse open.  She whimpered as the
blouse buttons scattered on the tiled floor and gasped as he took a hold of her
skirt by the waistband and gashed it in half letting it flop off her around her ankles,
one shoe still on her left foot.  He pulled her arms down and tore the rest of the
blouse off her, cut the straps and back strip off her bra and yanked it from her
and then told her to take her panties off.
	"My hands are tied," she whined.
	"Exactly," he said turning to the levelor blind in the kitchen window above
the sink and twisting out the long thin white plastic rod.  Still holding the knife
in his other hand he told her. "Start taking those panties down your legs and turn
the fuck around. I'm gonna whip you until you got em all the way off.  You hear
me, nigger?"
	"Pleease! Noo!"
	The white rod whistled thinly as he swung it down on her tits.
	"Aaaoooowww!"
	"Do it."
	She swung around quickly, moving her bound hands quickly along the
elastic waistband of her panties to shimmy them off, her hips squirming as she
tried clumsily to get the garment off.
	Dan smiled and layed into her unmercifully snapping the hard white rod
against the soft white meat of her chunky nigger ass and her strong
well-toned thighs as the skimpy white cotton panties first wedged between the
plump asscheeks and fat pussy mound of his victim and then slid gradually down
the wide expanse of hips and legmeat.
	She cried out with each blow and jerked to the pain and banged her
head on the kitchen cabinet in front of her.
	"Get em off soon, pig," he snarled. "Or I'll start using the knife."
	Dizzy and glassy eyed Pauline looked on from across the room, blood still
oozing from some of the knife cuts in her legs and pussy and asshole.
	The Lord is my shepherd - she thought - I shall not want - Her swollen lips
almost framed the words but she did not speak them for fear the agressor would be
infuriated by them.  She was sure this man was possessed by some demon,
powerful and unstopabble, who wanted to destroy all that was holy and good.
	- He maketh me to lie down in green pastures -
	She prayed for Aisha who was just now beginning to know what pain could
be.
	She knew that both of them would soon be dead unless the Lord himself
intervened. And that didn't seem likely to happen.
	- He leadeth me beside the still waters -
	Angrily, Dan caned Aisha as she bent down to pull her panties to her ankles.
The pretty nigger girl sobbed helplessly to the steady whapp whapp whapp of the
plastic rod swatting across the back of her bare legs and rump until finally
they were off her ankles. Then the garment was momentarily snagged in her one
shoe and she had to pry it off as the punishing rod fell harder and harder, right
calve, left calve, right calve, left calve, her knees shaking when finally she kicked her
panties away and leaned, bent over the counter crying.
	"Good cow," Dan commented tossing the white rod aside.  "That was
very enjoyable.  Now get over there to your friend and crouch on the floor in front
of her."
	Nervously keeping her eyes on the agressor as she moved past him Aisha
went to Pauline.
	"Down," he said pointing. "Facing me.  All the way down.  Legs open. I
want to see that cunt. Get between her legs."
	He pulled the chair he'd been sitting on to torture Pauline with the knife
out of the way as Aisha slid down awkwardly.
	"That's it - right between her legs - I want to go back and forth between
fucking your mouth and your face to fucking her asshole and her cunt.  Think you
can handle that Aisha? I think you can. And if you can't - fuck you, you're gonna
do it anyway."
	Dan moved toward his two black captives at the kitchen sink.
	He lifted his cock up into Aisha's mouth smiling down as she took him
in.
	"Don't close your eyes," he told her. "Keep looking at me."
	He watched her begin to bob back and forth submissively, her pretty legs
splayed apart and her chunky cunt spread open revealing its pink inner lining.
	"That's right, pigfuck.  That's just what you need to do."
	After a few strokes he slid out of her mouth and into Pauline's slashed up
vagina just above Aisha's upturned face.
	"Aaannhhh!" Pauline groaned as new pain invaded her punished sex organ.
	"Nice double action girls," Dan grunted.  "I think your pastor might
be interested in what a pair of low down sluts both of you can really be given the
right circumstances."
	He slid out of Pauline's pussy and into Aisha's mouth.
	He began to pleasurefuck both captured females and after a while he began
to use the knife, gently and lovingly.
	Eventually he made Aisha lick his balls and asshole as he pumped his shaft
in and out of Pauline. The combination of sensations on his engorged shaft was
exceptional.
	For a moment he thought he felt the first trembling thrills of the emerging
Lizard Man, the hardening of the skin around his neck and wrists and ankles,
the scaling - but the sensation didn't quite materialize.
	And as he tipped his head back and to one side in mind-blowing sadistic
pleasure he noticed the white box on the top shelf inside the pantry closet.
	He would have to check that out before he took the niggers upstairs to meet
Maggie and what was left of the Weylan family and he knew he would have to do
that soon, before Maggie delivered that overdue package in her belly - Maybe there
was a special kitchen appliance in that box that would add to his final enjoyment of
the females, some quirky thing he hadn't thought of.
	For the moment he continued to ride his two nigger bitches, drawing tiny
gifts of blood and suffering from them.
	God had made him a nice present of these two holy bible-thumping girls.
	Too bad he was gonna have to return them slightly damaged.
	Just then a shrill womancry came from the bedroom upstairs.
	Aisha's eyes went wide as she looked up at the ceiling, her mouth wrapped
around Dan's long meaty shaft.
	"Just keep doing what you're doing," he told her smiling.
	She shut her eyes, gasping as he slid back and forth on her tongue.
	"No, no," he told her. "You keep your eyes open. Keep em on me. That's
right.  Keep looking at me. Uhh - yess - work that cock - ahh -"
	He touched the knife tip to her cheek just under her eye.
	"Yesss - work that cock you miserable nigger pig. You'll find out what's up
there soon enough."



8.
	By the time the bedroom door flew open and Pauline and Aisha crawled
into Maggie Weylan's bedroom it was past one oclock in the afternoon.
	The two Jehova Witnesses had been made to drag themselves ahead of the
assailant on all fours from the kitchen to the staircase in the living room and then up
the stairs as he swatted at them with the white rod from the levelor blinds and
prodded their big meaty rumps with the basting fork, walking behind them, the
white box he'd found in the pantry closet under his arm.
	When he threw open the door and ordered them into Maggie's room Pauline
and Aisha's already profound sense of loss and horror was driven several notches
higher.
	Maggie Weylan hung, duct-tape gagged, by her fish-hooked tits which had
now turned almost dark brown.
	The head of the fetus was poking out between her thighs and puke was
running down her body.
	Talia swung back and forth mindlessly, limited by her nailed legs, a dazed
expression on the whipped five year old's face as she swung herself first one way
then the other with autistic force dangling by her roped arms.  She'd obviously
been doing that for some time, her feet blood-ripped against the wood nails that
kept her impaled on the wall and she did not stop when Aisha and Pauline and Dan
entered. She seemed completely oblivious of their arrival.
	The final gruesome horror for the two young Jehova Witnesses sprawled
across the bloody bed under the slowly turning ceiling fan - the savagely ravaged
carcass of Sandra Weylan.
	These were obviously the people who lived here, Aisha thought.
	The killer is powerful, she thought trembling.
	So powerful.
	"I won't waste too much time with introductions," Dan said. "Pauline and
Aisha here came by to sell you Jesus, doc.  Instead they found me. Now you're all
here for my pleasure - you're all fuckmeat and you're all going to die."
	Struggling to hold on to consciousness in a sick haze of pain Maggie saw
the white box in his hand and felt a sinking feeling in her stomach.  Her last hope
was gone.
	"By the way...were you gonna keep this little secret from me?" Dan asked
her opening the cardboard box and taking out the .45. "Huh, doc? Tsk, tsk, tsk.  Its
naughty to keep concealed weapons. Illegal too."
	He tossed the box aside and pointed the gun at Pauline who crouched 
against the dresser near the door.
	"Hope its not loaded. Its not loaded is it, doc?"
	Maggie grunted and made distorted sounds.  She shook her head wildly.
	Dan smiled.
	He pulled the trigger and the weapon's report was deafening, like a clap of 
thunder.
	Pauline squealed and tumbled across the room as the bullet tore into
her side lodging itself in her lower intestines.
	Aisha and Maggie screamed.
	Talia stopped swinging from side to side.
	"Goddamn, doc.  Don't you know a loaded gun is downright fucking
dangerous.  Especially with kids and niggers in the house."
	He aimed the gun at Talia.
	"Noooooo!" Maggie shrieked.
	He fired a round into the wall next to the nailed-up child.
	"Don't worry mom. That would be too easy on the little one.  Not enough
to get Lizard Man out and we do want him to come out don't we?"
	Maggie just shook her gagged head back and forth.
	Aisha cringed into a corner of the bedroom as Dan shut the door. Dan's 
continuous references to the Lizard Man confused her and also profoundly horrified
her. 
	Aisha's hands were still tied in front of her. Her face neck and shoulders, the
tops of her tits were covered with nicks from Dan's knife. Her face and arms were
bruised from his blows. She watched helplessly as Pauline squirmed and groaned on
the carpet on the other side of the room, blood pouring out of the smouldering gash
in her side and from the knife slashes on her legs and sex organ.  
	Aisha's mind had retreated into passivity.   
	Dan had shown her something in the kitchen, something she never
wanted to see and now there was no going back.
	Almost as if in a trance she watched Dan walk over to Pauline. He stood over
the wounded female staring down at her.
	"Do you believe in God?" he asked her.
	She looked up at him, eyes going in and out of focus.
	"Y-yes," she gasped.
	He aimed the gun at her left leg, halfway down, just above the knee
and fired.
	Maggie and Aisha screamed and sobbed.  Aisha turned away and covered
her head with her arms.
	"One more time," Dan said. "Do you believe in God."
	Somehow Pauline found the strength to lift her head from the carpet. The last
shot had broken her thigh bone and ripped a hole near the knee. Her face
was convoluted with pain.
	"Yes. Y-yes, I do believe in G-"
	He didn't let her finish. He aimed at her other leg just above the heel
and fired.  The impact blew half her foot off her.  Blood, bits of bone fragment
and a piece of her toe spattered against the wall.
	"Tell me again, sister Pauline, before the Lord and before those of his
flock here present - do - you - believe - in - GOD?"
	She could barely muster the will but somehow she swung over on her
back and stared up at the assailant.
	"Now and always," she gasped.
	Aisha sobbed, marveling at her friend's strength.  Aisha knew no such faith
and no such strength any more.
	Dan aimed at Pauline's kneecap and shot her. The impact twisted the hapless
black girl and she ended up face against the wall under the window, blood pumping
out of her in all directions.
	She lay there until she heard Dan's voice behind her.
	"Turn to me, sister Pauline, and prepare to answer."
	It took all her strength to push away from the wall and lie on her back.  The
room swam in and out of focus.  
	Dan put the gun to Aisha's head. Aisha was on her knees in front of him,
bent forward, propped up on her arms, tied hands between her thighs, face
downcast. Aisha wanted to pray but found she could no longer do so.  God had
deserted her, abandoned her to this all-powerful demon.
	Behind Dan and Aisha the little girl hung on the wall by her arms and nailed
legs and to their left the pregnant woman whose baby was coming out dangled
from the ceiling sobbing.  Near the bed the savaged dead teenager lay in a miasma
of bloody innards.
	No matter what she said when that question came Pauline suddenly realized
nothing would change.  The females in that room were doomed to die.  It was the
demon's mission and he would not stop until it was carried out.  They would all end
up shattered meat, like the dead teen on the floor by the bed.
	And, in fact, she thought in that last second before Dan popped the famous
question, that same question posed by those unforgettable American heroes Harris
and Klebold to their fellow high school students at Columbine High, whether
she or anybody believed in God or not was immaterial, irrelevant, insignificant.
Thomas had died senselessly in a car accident because some middle aged woman
wanted to have a few drinks in a bar downtown and drive afterwards.  Pauline's
mom had died of cancer before Pauline had reached her ninth birthday.  Pauline's
uncle had touched her and used her and no one had ever found out. 
	Not even her best friend Aisha who now knelt, a gun at her head. 
	And everyday thousands of people all over the world suffered and died while
thousands of others lived and smiled and got rich and fucked and sang songs.
	There was no justice and no Watchtower.
	In fact none of it made any sense at all.
	In her last few seconds of choice Pauline was emptied of her faith the same
way a shattered vase loses water and flowers in one quick gush.
	Dan knew it and it brought his sense of power to a fierce climax, one more
intense even then when he'd had Cassie Holliday naked and hung like a butterfly
before him taking the ripping violence of his heavy metal chain.
	He had already robbed the other girl, Aisha of her faith. That had not been
very difficult. Now he was taking Pauline down as well.  He reeled with euphoric
triumph.
	"Do - you - believe - in - God?" he asked looking into Pauline's eyes,
feeding on her helpless terror and lost hope, knowing the answer already.
	Suddenly his voice sounded deeper. 
	The Lizard Man was coming.
	"N-no," Pauline gasped weakly.
	The killer smiled remembering how her legs had bled for him in the kitchen.
	The dumb nigger had given him lots of pleasure.
	"That's a much more acceptable answer considering the circumstances,
cunt," he told her coldly.  "But it doesn't mean shit to me one way or another."
	He aimed the .45 away from Aisha's head now and at Pauline's belly.
	The report shook the walls.
	Pauline arched like a speared fish as her gutsac exploded.  Small bits of her
innards splattered the mirror over the dresser as her brown belly tore open and a
moment after the bullet tore through  her and into the floor she was shitting blood
and bloodsoaked faeces and spilling it and she was choking on blood vomited up her
torn esophagus.
	A last surge of furious energy inexplicably drove the big-titted black girl to
rise up on her shattered feet and torn bloody legs and to stagger across the room
toward the dresser. 
	"Fucking awesome," Dan muttered. 
	Pauline saw herself moving toward the gut-spattered mirror, saw herself in
the mirror, entrails pouring out of her blown apart belly, five ugly bullet wounds
in her curvaceous ebony body.  She saw the death panic in her eyes.  She realized
she could no longer hear.  The world was made of shrill stillness, a supersonic
insectile whine, like an electronic signal of some kind.  The mirror was like a
window shrouded in glowing whiteness.  Behind her she saw the killer (something
was different about Him now - his skin seemed darker - his eyes yellowish) and
Aisha still on her knees and the little girl on the wall and the woman hanging by her
tits and the dead teen by the bed - 
	Ahead of Pauline: the vast expanse of a white snow covered field within the
mirror rushing up to greet her, a snowdusted prairie like she'd seen long ago when
she'd taken the bus from the east coast as a child after her mother died.  Her father
had sent her west to meet her aunt Louise and the bus had sailed over empty fields
of winter - dead white fields of winter now waiting to receive her as she saw the last
image - the killer raising the gun and aiming it at the back of her head and she's
suddenly glad it will be over all the suffering and pain and the mornings and the
evenings and the singing and the prayers and the catcalls from the men at the bus
stop and the memories of Thomas and the taste of KFC biscuits and the smell of
ribeye steak on a barbecue grill and the sweet perfumed baths and the choral
singing at the church and the -
	Dan's seventh shot caught the dying niggerwoman right at the base
of her long graceful neck.  He'd wanted to sink his tusks into that sweet black neck
but the Lizard Man had not emerged in time and anyway fuckit - this was so much
better. 
	The back of Pauline's skull and the top of her head blew off her
like fragments from a shattered Christmas ball.  Dan's nigger victim had been
running toward the mirror and the impact of the bullet accelerated her demented
flight lifting her physically off her feet and launching her, rocketing her right into the
reflective pane.  What was left of her head drove through the mirrors surface
and lodged between support slats behind the mirror itself, arms, torso and thighs
were driven up on to the dresser and mirror as well and the impact of her
body sent the dresser crashing into the wall.  She remained lodged up on the
shattered dresser for a few incredible moments.  All the drawers had popped
open.  Perfume and facial creme bottles rolled off the dresser-top and toppled
to the floor. Then as Aisha watched mesmerized by the fantastic vision
of her friend's gross death, Pauline gave a gasping-choking strangled
bleating cry.   One arm reached up at the ceiling, fingers extended. A container of
perfumed talcum powder popped off the dresser top in a puff-white cloud.  One of
Pauline's pretty brown red-knife-slashed legs kicked back and the weight of her
body tilted in the opposite direction popping her shattered head from the mirror.
Blood sprinkled the wall all the way up to the ceiling and spattered the scatter of
white talcum on the carpet. Pauline toppled off the dresser and thumped dead to the
floor.
	Pauline's violent death plunged the room into unnatural silence.
	Slowly Dan felt the familiar surging energy and heat invade his body.
	The transformation had begun.
	He grabbed Aisha by the hair and dragged her to Maggie. He untied the rope
that bound his nigger captive's hands in front of her.
	"Kiss the baby's head," he growled.
	Aisha arched up to press her soft lips to the moist dome between Maggie's
thighs.
	"Lick on it."
	She obeyed silently, trembling.
	"Now pull it out."
	Aisha looked up at her assailant.  Something horrible was happening to him.
Something inexplicable. But after the horrors of this day, it was something Aisha
could now fully understand and accept.
	The man's skin was turning scaly and dark and his eyes slitted and yellow
and his mouth was distorted, his canine teeth now as long as a dog's.
	This is what he showed me, Aisha thought.  This was what he made me
feel.
	"I said pull the baby out," he (It) told her again.
	Maggie looked on equally horrified.  What she was seeing couldn't possibly
be happening. It had to be some kind of traumatic reaction on her part to what
was going on.
	Trembling in hypnotic terror, kneeling beneath the suspended woman, Aisha
reached up and took the head of Maggie's fetus.
	"Help her," the monster told Maggie. "Push it out. Let her have it."
	Maggie blinked stupidly. She looked down and saw Dan pick up the two by
four he'd left lodged between her calves and thighs earlier that morning.  He was
still holding the smouldering gun in his other hand (claw) and he drew back and
smacked the board across her fat womb.
	"I said HELP HER, cunt!"
	He smacked her two more times and Maggie puked up through her nose
again. Some of the vomit pushed through her gagged throat.  She felt the
baby start to move.
	Earlier she had hung in the quiet room, before He had come back
with the two black women, and she'd screamed as the baby had begun to 
eject from her.
	The beast now hit her again.
	She looked up into its yellowish eyes.
	There was no mercy there.
	Earlier she'd hung there and looked at her mindblown five year old nailed up
on the wall and her dead teenage girl and she'd sobbed and waited for the fetus to
move again, for the rhythmic pain of childbirth to claim her and she'd heard him
downstairs with the black women and she'd heard them scream and hurt for him.
	Now he hit her again and harder and he was smiling - that hideous reptilian
face smiling and she stopped rejecting it. 
	The truth was almost impossible to swallow but here it was.
	The Lizard Man was real.
	He reached up and tore the gag from her.
	And with a quick unexpected tug he tore the fishhooks from her nipples and
mouth and tossed them aside.
	She screamed with all the power in her lungs bleeding and ejected her
premature baby into Aisha's hands.  The afterbirth splashed down on the young
black woman's head, umbillical cord around her neck, and rolled down off her
shoulders and back to the floor.
	Maggie's gashed lower lip bled copiously down her neck and nipple-gouged
bloated tit globes.
	Lizard Man stood over Aisha.
	He seized the umbillical cord unwrapped it from the young negress's neck,
ripped it from the baby and threw it across the room. It splattered against the
window blinds and fell to the floor next to Pauline's body.
	"Go on the bed with the baby," he told Aisha.
	She stared up at him blankly.
	His yellow slitted pupils bore into her.
	"I said go on the bed with the baby."
	"Noooo!" Maggie shrieked.
	Lizard Man smacked his dangling captive across her deformed mutilated tits
with the two by four.
	Aisha sensed her body obey the Beast as if it had no will of its own.  She
felt disconnected from what was happening.  She looked at the bloody fetus
in her hands.  It was a little white boy, hairless and pale, eyes squeezed shut, its belly
bleeding where the cord had been ripped out of it. She thought it weighed no more
than two or three pounds but she could feel its tiny heart beating and she could see
its chest moving as it tried to breathe. It was making a small cat-like sound.
	She did as the Beast told her sitting on the bloody torn sheets, back up
against the headboard of the bed, legs wide apart and she knew what he 
was asking her to do though she hadn't yet accepted it psychologically.
	After Pauline's graceless flight into the dresser something had just 
stopped working inside Aisha.  It was almost as if she'd become a robot.
	It was like hearing music that wasn't there and following its odd and
demanding rhythms.
	"Lie back, nigger. I wanna see you shove Maggie's baby up your cunt."
	The words made no sense - and yet they did.
	Up my cunt.
	The white woman's fetus back up into me.
	White into black.
	The Beast stood over her.
	The white woman was screaming the word no' over and over and over her
babbling mouth spilling blood in spatters.
	"Fuck yourself with it," the Beast said softly.
	Something was nice about its yellow eyes, Aisha thought.
	Something so much more powerful than any Jesus.
	She wanted to fuck herself for the Beast - Yes - but she didn't know if she
could - if she had the courage or the conviction -
	She lay on her back and cocked her legs back and the baby felt so vulnerable
in her hands as she turned it inward toward her head first
	Aisha had been masterfully violated downstairs - earlier - in the kitchen -
after she'd pleasured him with her mouth - Pauline bound against the kitchen sink
bleeding down her legs.  
	My God what he had done to both of them.  Used them. Exterminated them. 
Cleaned them out of all faith and hope.  
	He was powerful.
	He had ordered Aisha up on the counter and lifted her legs in his hands to
pound her punishingly with his massive meat. He had slapped her and punched her
and talked obscenely to her as he raped her destroying her mind with his words.
	 No one - nothing - had ever been that  thorough.  He had erased her from
herself.
	And then she had seen, deeply seen, deeply felt - the darkness inside him -
and the darkness had invaded and drowned her.
	Watching him kill Pauline had finished it for her.
	Now she was His and ready to do His bidding.
	Maggie watched helplessly, still dangling by her tits and bleeding from her
used up womb, as Aisha lifted the baby to her moist black pussy.
	"Ohggh Godddd! Nooo! Nooo!"
	Aisha pressed the baby's head against her wet labia, squeezed its cute little
face against her swollen clit and groaning with mindless pleasure she arched
back on the bloody sheets, face tilted upward, eyes glassy.
	The baby opened its mouth and cried.
	"Yeahhhh," the Beast growled.  It stroked itself as it became more and more
deformed.
	As if everything was suddenly in slow motion Maggie watched the thing that
had been a man move across the room toward Talia.
	"Ohhh nnnnooooo," she wailed weakly.  She was about to faint, she didn't
know how much more she could take.
	The Beast took the little girl from the wall untying her wrists and releasing
her from the ropes, ripping the nails out of her legs and carrying her to the foot of
the bed and dropping her there face first.
	The child just lay there moaning.
	Maggie noticed the Beast was no longer wielding the gun. Instead, a strand of
rope dangled from his claw.
	"I'm gonna fuck your daughter first, Maggie," He said. "I'm going to fuck
her good and proper and choke her little neck before I start really hurting her."
	She watched him lean down and put his now massively long phallus between
the five year old's small round asscheeks.
	Aisha watched too, mesmerized.
	With a thrust of his powerful hips the Beast forced his gray meaty phallus into
little Talia's virgin pussy.
	The child's head came up off the bed and her mouth went wide as she
screamed in horrible pain.
	Leaning down the Beast wrapped the strand of rope around Talia's throat
choking off the scream and garroting the five year old as he thrust his tentacle-cock
in and out of her tight cunthole from behind his claw gripping the child by one
shoulder.
	Gritting her teeth and making a low feral moaning sound Aisha pushed the
head of Maggie's baby into her slobbering cunt mouth.  Her toes gripped the sheets
as she began to force the blood-smeared fetus into her womb.  The mindblown
Jehova's Witness now watched drooling, fetus-fucking herself as the Beast choked
and fucked the five year old on the other end of the bed.
	In her shattered mind Aisha now saw the Lizard Man as beautiful, godlike.  
	The awesomely predatorial grace in him as he slamfucked the child made her
long for him, even as she knew that longing for him meant utter finality.
	Maggie hung in sobbing agony, devastated.  What was happening in her
bedroom was atrocious beyond anything she'd ever known or could ever hope to
cope with.  The black woman had forced the head of her baby completely up her
vaginal passage and she was now forcibly squeezing the shoulders together and
drawing the ball of helpless human meat into herself.  
	The fetus' arms snapped like twigs under the pressure and its little feet kicked
against the bloody sheets as it was rammed up into the alien womb in reverse
childbirth.
	Aisha looked up at the spinning ceiling fan and groaned with sick sexual
pleasure opening herself wide for the penetration.
	Lizard Man turned to watch the hideous fetus fuck as Aisha growled 
and swung her head from side to side and worked the torso of Maggie's baby
into her cunt.  The sight of it made him ram into little Talia, pushing all ten inches
of evolving Beast cock into her.  The little one screamed beautifully to his
penetration, kicked her wounded legs on the bed and gasped as he tugged on the
rope around her neck.  Her little hands reached up to the rope trying to stop its
choking action in vain as the Beast slowly ground himself into her, feeling the crown
of his expanding organ press hard into the wall of her smooth little baby uterus.
	He picked up a wooden dowel from the floor and began to swat the
five year old's back with it as he fucked her.  He liked the way the child leaped
energetically to the new assault.  Little Talia was showing great promise. She was
probably going to be his best child slaughter ever. Every now and then the Beast
leaned over and swung his wooden weapon across Aisha's tits and arms as she
continued to force Maggie's fetus ever deeper. Cruelly, he prodded Talia with
the wooden dowel, prodded hard almost stabbing the child with the weapon. 
	The sound of the swatting dowel, a loud wet whapp,  was followed by the
sweet injured cries of the females and as the grotesque sexuality on the bed
blossomed it became an ostinato accompaniment, a pounding reminder that the role
of female was to serve, suffer and die and that nothing else even remotely mattered. 
	Soon Lizard Man was grotesquely bigger than he had imagined.
	By then Aisha had crammed most of the fetus up into herself.  Only
the baby's rump and legs stuck out.
	"Ram it all the way in," Lizard Man urged. "Sit on him. Kill it inside you."
	Aisha rushed to obey him going first on her knees and then grinding down
into the mattress and grunting, bouncing, to slam the fetus deeper. Obedience
to the demon was all that mattered now.
	Once she was well into this passionate snuff-dance the Beast
slashed violently at her with the wooden dowel.  He struck her head and her
arms and her face and her legs, spared her nothing.
	"Yess!" Aisha whined wildly. "Hurt me! Kill me! Break me!"
	The Beast broke the bridge of her nose, tore vicious welts across her
bouncing jugs and smacked her hips and flanks as he continued to ram his
tentacle cock into Talia.
	Maggie hung bleeding and watching the frenzy, her continuity of perception
shattering, fragments and images suddenly collapsing into each other

her mind coming unhinged -

The Lizard Man is obviously enjoying himself tugging back on the rope around
little Talia's neck, yanking her little head back as he gouges into her innards with
a tentacle that is now nearly two inches thick and sprouting sharp barbs.  The
child's nail-gouged feet kick on either side of that battering ram now being
crammed into her and the Beast stands powerfully behind her, knees slightly bent,
as he uses the wooden dowel to rain down blows on the suffering child's back and
legs and on Aisha's ankles and feet.

He makes Aisha kiss the wooden dowel, implement of male destruction, then he
clubs Talia's skull with it almost knocking the child unconscious.

Pulling Aisha by her legs toward him Lizard Man reaches down to help her
cram what's left of Maggie's fetus into her.

Aisha screaming at the ceiling.

The red-spattered ceiling fan spinning.

Talia coming up off the bed riding the tentacle cock.

"Mommieee! Ugghhhnn! Mommmieeeeeee!"

The Beast smacks his child victim heartlessly with the wooden dowel, still keeping
her leashed on the choke rope, riding her on the end of his ever-expanding organ. 
He clubs the child's spine and her shoulders and again her frail skull.  Blood
explodes from Talia's little screaming mouth. He slams her against the wall.  He
chokes her.  He enjoys her.  Slowly he slides out of her holding her up by the choke
rope and letting her collapse on the bed moving to Aisha to put his tentacle cock in
the nigger's fetus-filled cunt.

Talia rolls and tumbles weakly off the bed sobbing hysterically ends up tangled in
her dead sister's cadaver on the floor as the Lizard Man plunges his now four foot
long tentacle into the meat mass inside Aisha's sex.  He bends over Aisha, puts his
claws around her pretty black throat to strangle her.  Dips his head down to thrust
his long forked tongue down her choking throat and begins to thrust mightily
ripping through the dead baby's body and into the warm pulp of the nigger's
womb.  He fucks the broken female for a few minutes and when he withdraws his
tentacle the fetus emerges impaled upon it, a bloody shapeless mass.

"YYAHHHH!" the Lizard Man roars triumphantly.

He comes for Maggie.

He cuts her legs loose.

"I'm going to put it back inside you," the Lizard Man says.
"gghh -" is all that comes from the doomed psychiatrist's gashed lips as the hideous
serpent cock rises up under her, she still hanging by her tits.  He's holding her legs
up in his hands.
She feels it enter, a rending burning filling.
"All the way back inside you ppigggggg -"
And he slowly inexorably unstoppably pushes that awful phallic monstrosity up her,
ever so slowly, those sick yellow eyes studying her.
The mashed up fetus is crammed back up into the womb that birthed it, its head
crushed flat, eyeballs squeezed out of their eyesockets, its spine broken and
its tiny feet twitching in death.
"You'rrre mine now," he growls sickly. "Alll fucking mine."
Her head tilts to one side as she looks into his hideous demented face. Tears spill
down her face.
"Pleeeease -" she whispers. "Pleeeease - let Talia live - let Talia live -"
He says nothing but His claws snare around her bound breasts, long white bony
nails sinking into the meat.
"NNnnnnnn!" she groans.
"Aisha!" he calls. 
The black girl comes crawling on the carpet from the bed, obediently.
"Kneel under me. Lick my balls and this pigs cunttt."
Maggie can see it in the shattered mirror across the room - the massive barbed
appendage now nearly six feet long grinding into Maggie's sexhole, bits of fetus and
blood rolling down Lizard Man's balls as Aisha puts her moaning loving mouth to
it. The barbs scrape the black girl's tongue and lips but she wants to please the
Lizard Man.  Fetus meat rolls down the side of her face and neck and on to
her waggling knife-knicked boobs.
Maggie feels the black girl's tongue on the sides of her penetrated twat and
on her asshole, a small wet diversion to the monstrous impalement.
The Beast shouts:
"Yeahh, nigggggerrr - uhhhh - put your fingers up my assss."
Maggie watches the young negress obey, hears her moaning, hears Talia
crying on the other side of the room.
Inside Maggie's womb the Lizard Man coils up the massive tentacle meat pressing
into her uterus with the thick spiked head, dead baby ground and crushed back
into its dying mother.
"Still think you can help me cuntttt?" he growls and sinking his claw fingers
into titmeat he begins to tear out Maggie's breasts as he sends his tentacle ripping
through her guts. "Sssstuppidd fuckinggg cunntttttt."
Maggie screams and kicks and her heart races as horrible new pain invades her.
As the Lizard Man debreasts her, the ropes give away, she no longer hangs
on her jugs.  She now fully rides the Beast, just as Talia did earlier, arms flailing
helplessly, legs off the ground.
She feels the thing inside her tearing into her innards and hears it, a sickening
wet ripping noise and blood.  She knows now death is certain and it will be slow.
"FFFuckkk you to ddeatthhh pigggg."
Gasping and moaning feverishly, Aisha pushes her pretty manicured fingers up the
Lizard Man's asshole and fills her mouth with his genital sacs which flop fat and
heavy against her cheeks.  She kneels up against her demon master, his powerful leg
between hers.  She rubs her pussy against his ankle dementedly. She sucks on
him drowned in his stench and in fetusblood, lost forever.  She wants that tentacle in
her again, wants to die like Maggie, die for him screaming in horrible suffering.  It is
what she deserves. He has told her so and made her understand. 
With a lurching pop the Lizard Man's tentacle gouges into Maggie's intestines
then into her stomach, grinding up her esophagus toward her throat.
She pukes up bilish blood.
"Let - T-Talia - live -" Maggie pleads weakly.
He studies her intently, driving his tentacle toward its goal.
He likes to kill - likes it very much - and killing this brilliant attractive woman is
sheer ecstasy.  He's robbing the world of her, taking her from her loved ones
and from her friends forever.
He's taking everything from her, emptying her, ruining her, turning her into an 
empty husk of flesh.
No longer human his mind is free and demonic, predatorial.
"I wontt let herr go," he growls softly as the head of his tentacle pushes up
into Maggie's gasping throat.
"I wontt. I'll use herr up and enjoy herr, bitchh - and I'll take my fuckin' time
doing itt."
She can no longer respond but she understands fully. He can see the tragic
comprehension of his words in her fading eyes.  His phallus pushes upward crushing
her voicebox and stifling her trachea and she can't breathe.
Lizard Man holds her head up by her hair.
He can see the gleaming gray mass coming up inside her mouth.  She pukes
up blood on him and bits of gutmeat, pieces of the dead fetus.
Finally his cockhead emerges from between her lips.
She blinks up at him, eyes bloodshot and weak.  She's confused at first but
eventually she begins to understand.
Yes. The man who broke into her house is no longer this - this - thing...
This thing is a God. A Beast. It is the Killer of her Soul.
Lizard Man waits as Maggie's heart slows down and her eyes begin to fade.
This is the best part of killing for him - when he's taken the victim almost all the
way.
He wants to wait until the last possible moment, to keep her hanging on
a thread.  She feels heavy and warm on his tentacle.
"You know what I'm going to do with your little girrlll?"
Maggie shakes her head weakly.  The movement caresses the full length of his
invading shaft.  Down below Aisha continues to pleasure him mindlessly.
"I'm going to eatt yourr baby alive, cuntt - you hearr me?"
Energized now with the need to kill, to completely obliterate the pretty psychiatrist,
Lizard Man pushes his grisly tentacle all the way through her.
"GGHHGGgagghhhhh!" Maggie screams.
His tusks gleam in her eyes, barbaric and triumphant.
He sneers victoriously:
"EATTT YOURR LITTLE BABY ALIVE!!" Lizard Man shouts and with a
grinding twisting push he fuckslaughters Maggie, holding her up by her shoulders as
she shudders and quivers and bleeds, her sternum snapping loudly in half, her spine
shattering.
He watches her die -  the horror of what will happen to her daughter evident in her
final frozen stare.
With a roaring growl the Beast gashes into her side with his claw and tears out a
clump of still pulsing liver.
Reaching deeper he tears out a strand of intestine.
Down on her knees Aisha groans spattered in a wash of piss, shit and blood.


9.
	At nearly three in the afternoon Aisha and Talia rose up off the floor crucified
on opposite sides of the same makeshift wooden cross in the center of the
Weylan house kitchen suspended by a strand of heavy rope from the
support beam underneath the light fixture.
	The Beast made the cross from the junk he'd found in the shed. He nailed the
nigger to it first, hands and feet, just like the Jesus she'd been preaching about. Then
he rolled it over and planted the wailing child on it, wack wack wacking the rusty
nails from the shed into warm girl flesh, the child shrieking shrilly to the black girl's
earthier moans.
	He crowned both his female victims with rusty barbed wire snagged tight into
their skulls.
	He was going to feast on their flesh but before that he was going to feast on
their pain and on their delicious female suffering.
	He beat them first, moving around them with the two-by-four he'd used to 
pound the baby out of Maggie's womb in the bedroom.  He especially liked
beating the little girl with that and breaking her ribs with it.  
He made Talia lick the baseball bat before he used it on both victims, breaking arms
and legs. And then he'd made Aisha kiss the crowbar before smashing her hips and
shoulders and ankles.
	Then he fired up the stove and heated up sixteen metal barbecue skewers on
the stovetop.
	While he waited for the skewers he shoved a whole box of sewing needles
under both girls' fingernails and toenails.
	By the time he got to the hot skewers the two innocents were ready to pass
out.	
	He revived them by chucking ice water from the refrigerator in their faces.
	The skewers were nice. The whole kitchen smelled of burning girlmeat. 
He put most of them through Aisha's pretty tits which had ended up deformed
with ugly bruises from the beatings - all the way through those juicy niggerboobs -
and he put a few into the little girl's body, pushing two into her belly and one into
her face and four into her thighs.
	The Beast had brough the other three mangled female cadavers from the
bedroom upstairs and dumped them on the floor of the  kitchen - he alternated
necrophilia with each of the dead victims, Maggie, Sandra and Pauline several times
during the torture of the young nigger woman and the five year old girl on the
cross.
	The five year old white girl and the young nigger looked so nice nailed up
there, arched against the dirty wood.
	As his bloodlust demanded more he began to mutilate the cadavers.
	He hacked their feet and hands off with the machete he'd found in the shed.
	He also whipped the living crucified girls with the machete splashing blood all
over the kitchen walls and cabinets.  When he hit Aisha's skewered tits with it 
her blood spattered the hot glass stovetop and sizzled there.
	He took the electric drill and tortured Talia with it, making small incisions
and holes all over her legs, in her feet and ankles, in her kneecaps, in her arms and
in her cute little belly, gashing out her belly button with the spinning metal bit.
	He heated the machete on the stove and lovingly sliced long cut lines up and
down the pretty five year old's chest and belly enjoying her frenetic screams of
agony. He stepped up on the counter to lick Talia's face and lick the blood off her
body.  He kissed her and sucked the blood from around each impaling nail.
He pushed his clawfingers into her mouth and made her suck each one.
He scratched her face, leaving thin cutlines on her cheeks.
Heating the machete up some more he pressed the blade against her little chubby
pussymound marking it indelibly and forever with the sizzling metal.
He pressed the hot metal to her face.
And also against her thighs.
	Swiveling the cross around he looked into Aisha's sad African face.
	He pressed his hot machete into it.
	He cut both her nipples off her.
	She cried for him and he watched her cry, his tentacle snaking ryhtmically
around the girls on the cross like a hungry anaconda.
	He touched Aisha's fat nigger lips with his clawfinger enjoying the way
they felt before leaning in to bite them fiercely.
	He sliced her left ear off with the hot machete and tore the other one off with
his teeth and ate it.
	He sank his tusks into Aisha's face, into her shoulders and crucified arms.
	Then, unexpectedly, he grabbed the nigger's face and pushed his thumbs into
her eyes gouging both of them out.


Finally he was ready for the kill.

He heated up the knife on the stovetop.

He plunged it into Aisha's belly and sliced her open from left to right.

As her guts began to spill out of the eyeless nigger victim he cut her from her throat
to her pussy.

He reached up into her body and grabbed her beating heart.

Nailed to the cross she jerked helplessly and turned her bloody face from side to
side.

"Who do you belonggg to, niggerrrr?" he asked.

"Youuuu," she gasped.

He tore her heart out of her chest and with a grunt she went stock still.

"Mmmmm," he growled and took her heart into his mouth with one savage
chomp.

Taking up the machete he hacked the child off the cross, feet and then hands, held
her out in front of him and impaled her on his tentacle cock, gripping her squirming
bleeding body as he rammed all the way through her, his cockhead spiking out her
mouth as he let her go and hacked one arm off and then the other. The metallic
thunk of the old machete pleased him savagely. Little Talia dangled
on the end of his appendage gasping for air and he tilted her toward him to
devour her, one slow bite at a time, mutilated arms first - then her little ears -
then her shouldermeat - she screamed as he hacked off her legs and ate them,
she barely able to breathe impaled on him.  He sank his tusks into her neck
and sucked up mouthfuls of her warm blood to flush down flesh and bone.
He saved the living breathing head for last, smiling down at her, his baby killslut,
who was lost in the savage horror of all she'd witnessed and he thrust his tongue
first against her eyelids to taste her. Then he sucked out each eye and tore big
hungry bites of face meat out of her until finally he felt himself unable to hold back
the oncoming orgasmic energy.  

Thick hot blue slime erupted from him and sprayed everywhere in the kitchen as
he staggered to keep his balance. He spun around a couple of times slowly, the half-
eaten still breathing child impaled on his monster cock wailing as blue slime erupted
from the tentacle head in her mouth.  He leaned back against the wall and ripped
what was left of Talia off his barbed appendage by the leg stumps tossing her
remains on to the hot glass stove top in pieces.

The girlmeat fried and sizzled and eventually began to burn.

Talia's sliced up torso bubbled up and churned and crackled then eventually
burst up in a flaming blaze.

By then the Lizard Man was receeding, collapsed against the door of the pantry
closet on his knees, spent and dizzy and

the Knife Man was making its way back...


10.
	Less than an hour after the pieces of little Talia Weylan's body began to burn
and and hiss on the stovetop of the Weylan house Dan was already in the black
Lexus and moving west on Route 73.  He'd found some clothes in the bedroom
closet that sort of fit him and he'd pulled them on looked for the keys to the Lexus
in Maggie's purse in her office and found them. He loaded a new clip into the .45
he'd found in the pantry, the weapon he'd used to finish Pauline with, and stuffed
the gun into the waistband of his pants. 
	Just as he stepped out of the house he heard the phone ring. 
	Oblivious of all that had happened that day Jerry Weylan was calling home. 
It would take him three more calls before he would begin to get worried. By then
a raging fire would be smouldering through the kitchen and the floor above it.
	It was slightly after four thirty in the afternoon.
	Dan ignored the phone, pulled the front door shut behind him, got into the
car and drove away.
	It had been a glorious day of female snuff and he'd left a real fucking
beautiful mess behind him.
	The contents of the Weylan kitchen and bedroom would give the forensics
guys lots of things to play with.
	He wondered what they would find when they ran DNA on the bluish
slime on the kitchen walls and floor and on the claw and teeth wounds on the
bodies. That was, if any of it survived the flames.
	Now that he had been through the transformation twice he was beginning
to regain a sense of identity.
	True he was no longer human but the fact that he could change back
was somewhat of a relief.
	As he drove he also thought that in time he might be able to control
the transformations, to time them just right for his own most intense pleasure.
	Now he was not just outside the law, he was above and beyond it.
	After the savagery in the kitchen and the transformation back into human
form he fully regained his memory and he'd decided his first move was to
return to the warehouse where he'd killed little Cassie Holliday.  There he would
recover the Cherokee parked outside and leave town.
	About a mile from the warehouse he began to look for a dirt road to ditch
the Lexus and as he turned off 73 he found himself across a farmhouse.
	He slowed down.
	In the front yard near the road a little girl was swinging on an old tire.
	Dan thought her to be maybe four years old.
	She had long black hair to the middle of her back which waved as she
swung back and forth.
	She was barefoot in a pair of tiny green shorts and a white t-shirt.
	Instinctively the Knife Man turned into the driveway and pulled up to the
house.
	He rang the bell and heard steps.
	A young woman in jeans a denim blouse and sneakers opened it. She looked
to be in her late twenties and was slightly overweight.
	"Yes?" she asked.
	She had a trusting smile.
	Dan looked at the hand holding the door.
	No nail polish. A wedding ring.
	"Excuse me, m'am, I was just driving by and - uh - I noticed your child
out there."
	"Yes?" the eyes went puzzled.
	"That is your child, is it not?"
	"That's Carolyn, yes. Why? Did something happen to her?"
	She suddenly looked worried and opened the door wide.
	"Not yet," he said taking the gun out of his pants.
	There was no one else home.
	He took the woman in the bedroom, made her get on her knees in the walk
in closet and he closed the door.
	He could smell her fear in the darkness.
	"Don't hurt us," she sobbed softly. "Don't hurt us."
	He just stood there silent, letting her beg for a few more seconds.
	He liked to hear a woman beg.
	Then he put the gun to the back of her head and pulled the trigger.
	The flare-up from the nozzle lit up the dark closet and he had a brief glimpse
of the female's wide-eyed wide-mouthed death.  Hot blood splattered the clothes
and walls.  He felt it on his arm and on one cheek.
	He smiled.
	
	
	He hung the child up off her feet by her wrists from a beam in the barn.
	By then little Carolyn was bawling and screaming and kicking all pretty
and naked, cut out of her little green shorts and white t-shirt.
	Dan was somewhat tired after the long day of slaughter but still ready to take
one last piece of childmeat, one for the road, before he left the area for good.
	He found a dogleash hanging on a nail near the barn door even though there
was no dog.  It was a rusty strand of chain perfectably suitable for his purpose.
	He picked it up, wielded it, felt its weight and began to flog the dangling child
with it moving around her as he struck her mercilessly, enjoying her screeching
agony - such a wonderful contrast to her smiling contedness on the swing earlier.
	The hard chain swooshed across the air and thunked into little Carolyn
unforgivingly drawing blood from the first stroke.
	Even though he thoroughly enjoyed beating the child Dan knew he didn't
have a lot of time and after fifteen minutes he stopped.
	By then Carolyn hung sobbing, babbling, covered with welts, bloody cuts
and dark bruises.
	Dan moved in and unzipped his pants.
	His cock was already booming. He needed to take what he'd come for.
	He felt the odd prickly heat around his neck but he controlled it.
	"This one's for the Knife Man," he said to himself. "The Lizard Man's had
enough for one day."
	The child looked up into the mean killer's eyes not understanding any of it
as he lifted her little legs and spread them open.
	"Please me," he told her and he pushed his erection into her small
virgin hole.
	He fucked her savagely until she bled and stared into her crying face.
	"Muhmmieeee!" she screeched. "Mommaaaaaa!"
	He bit her face and her arms and her thighs, bit hard, bit through the skin.
	He released her legs letting her dangle on the end of his massive prick.
	Then he took the gun and put it to her head.
	"Open your mouth for me."
	Sobbing she obeyed. 
	He slid the barrel of the .45 into her lips and studied her briefly.
	This was the last time she would ever look lovely - dark eyed, dark haired
little wench. Too fuckin' bad. Wouldn't even make it to first grade.
	He really liked the way her cute little lips cupped the gun's muzzle.
	He liked the bitemarks he'd left on her chubby cheeks.
	When he pulled the trigger and the gun exploded the back of her head blew
off.  Her eyes went wide and she went stiff around his cock and real tight.
	"Uhhhhh yeahhh," he grunted, smiling with pleasure as he ejaculated deep
in the dying infant.
	She shuddered and shivered against him, her little bare feet kicking in the air.
	Then she went lax and hung inert as he stepped back away from her.
	Her little head hung arched backward, eyes wide open.
	Dan circled around her, caressing her dead body, cupping her little
buttcheeks, enjoying the kill then he pressed the gun to her belly and blew her guts
out.
	Back in the house he stripped the child's dead mother naked and fucked her
on the dining room table managing one last delicious ejaculation after 
cutting the dead bitch's hands and feet off and gouging out her dead eyes with a
fork.
	He hung both pieces of dead naked female meat from a branch on a tree
behind the house by their feet then he got into the Lexus, drove another mile up the
road to another dirt road where he finally abandoned the vehicle in a clump of
pines, wiped his prints off the wheel and doorhandles and began walking up
Route 73 toward the factory.
	By ten that night Dan the Knife Man was fifty miles gone.  
	That night the Weylan house massacre and the Grant farmhouse killings
would make national news.

WOODBURN