FEED N' SLAKE; OR, A LOVE LETTER TO KELLY REILLY
By Quillon42
(NB: Brett is the name of the main bully in Eden Lake. John is the name of his piece of crap father. Tanya, I believe, is the name of his cavewoman mother. In the film Eden Lake, Kelly Reilly (some might know her as Watson's fiancée/wife in the recent Sherlock Holmes films) is the main character, and Michael Fassbender (no introduction needed) is her fiance. Obvious spoilers come from this story; sorry and all that).
What minutes ago was a cubbyhole for fucking now became both a cell for holding and a chamber for execution.
In the tiny loo Jenny held herself tight, this just after those other fornicating shits were shunted out of the space, then took the razor between her stress-shivering digits and held that even tighter. She knew well that the crude blade wouldn't begin to cut through the swaths of lowlived yet careworn parents lurking below, looking very soon to dispense their particular, primitive brand of justice. They were of course in every place to judge on right and wrong, they reveling lecherously with one another one second, then the next fretting restlessly regarding the whereabouts of wayward "children" engaging in activity just as unscrupulous.
Looking at the glass nearby, Jenny barely recognized the other image staring back. She was basically a mudhead now, with all the scampering and straggling she was forced to endure. Those sentient shits disguised as children stalking her and her boyfriend, whom she didn't know till too late was seeking to upgrade himself to fiancé. She turned the ring nervously on her soil-sullied finger as the quailing from downstairs began to crescendo.
Unbeknownst to those below, though—and at least in this rendition of the thriller's reality—the natty little nursery school instructor inside the wee white washroom was well-versed in odiferous defenses that even she was not fully aware of in terms of all its intricacies. Jenny didn't even really know how to turn it on or off—
-it was just that, when she was backed into a serious corner, as she was here…and that corner was claustrophobically one set indoors, as opposed to the wide-open wiliness to which she was largely exposed these past endless hours…she could exude certain pheromones that operated to chloroform anyone within a half-mile radius.
Such defenses were ingrained within her from an extremely young age, due to her overprotective chemist parents. Just as Paul Kersey was a mild-mannered engineer/architect who suffered the shattering of his family by unctuous hoodlums, and consequently had a Death Wish™ triggered that roused a latent talent for gunplay imbued within him from a young age by his NRA-sworn father…Jenny had scientist parents who endowed the shrinking orangeheaded violet of a child with pheromones which could render unconscious anyone who forced her into a corner and made her most uncomfortable. The only catch: it only worked under a roof, for some reason. (And could also radiate to the outside if it started indoors, as a technicality).
At any rate, this was why it didn't activate at all out in Eden Lake, as it was all too wide open then. But here, within the yard of these yobs—it was time to get a little…naturally trippy.
Down in the living room, the mothers and wives continued wailing for a frenzied spell…then they fell abruptly from squall to swoon.
Out in the pool, the partyers pressed on for a moment, three feet deep in their chlorinated bliss…then an instant later they pitched backward, pooped and put out entirely.
…
…
"AHHRRRAHHHRRRRR…!
"AHHRRRAHHHRRRRR…!"
John's eyes flicked open, found himself facing the ass of the dog as soon as he turned his head.
"AHHRRRAHHHRRRRR…!"
The Doberman was situated right near him, agonizing in torrid throes of discomfort, its haunches hovering precariously over the face of this father of a far-flung brat named Brett. It was really difficult to say on balance which animal was the more vicious between the mutt and the mockery of a man who owned the pet.
It was all moot now, in any case…seeing as each was…
"eeeeeYYYYYEEEEEAAAAAGGGGGHHHHH!"
…corralled most cruelly in a whirl of barbed wire…
…just like Jenny's precious Steve was, back in the forest…
…and just as every party guest was, here at this fete gone fatally foul.
Spurts of pain shocked all around John as he tried to move. He strained against his barbed bonds, did all he could but even with surges of adrenalin he could not get the matted masses of synthetic thorns off of him. That orange mop-topped waif just trussed him—and everyone else—that darn good.
As the brutish lout lay there, panting from his last futile assay at freeing himself…
(WHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSHHHHHH)
He first heard the harrowing roar…then felt the overwhelming warmth.
Then the pandemonic assortment of cries from outside the house, which defied even onomatopoeia for this narration to capture adequately.
Savagely the excuse for a human banged his head back, back, back against the floor, moving the one, most useless part of him that he could move. For all he couldn't do, the miserable fuck wished he could reverse headbutt his way through the ground floor and into the basement. Even with adrenalin, no dice.
He stopped skipping his head against the floor tile when the next sound played across his eardrums—a sound which his whining hound had accompanied, of course, all this time.
[RATCHETA]
[RATCHETA]
[RATCHA RATCHA RATCH-RATCH RMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM…]
No, the thought shot through his Cro-Magnetic brain. She couldn't have…
Ah, but this elementary instructor had the most of ingenuity, and she most certainly could.
Minutes after Jenny took a flaming branch—yes, an ignited twig similar to the one which she used to barely fend off imposing, atavistic youths in the forest, just before they brutally burned one youth who wished to be one of their number—but yes, minutes after she took that similar branch, and tossed it into the pool she filled with petrol and most of the people she knocked out—making said company go from creepy to crispy right well—the once-serene nursery teacher found a use for the rest of the gas—
-to pilot that crazy, sitdown mini-combine that John used intimidatingly to mow his lawn every Sunday.
Only here, Jennifer was looking to cut something much more interesting than the weekly grass growths.
"You told us 'Not your boy,' mum," she cackled menacingly, maniacally as she allowed the bumpy ride of the combine to bump her up and down, the peppy peachhead enjoying popping up and down in the machine's seat. "You said, 'Not my boy,' in the restaurant. Well!
"You don't really know us city folk, naw…"
Jenny steered the machine forward as it lurched ahead with a vengeful rumble, only incidentally chopping through grass as it went…
…sprigs of green tossing, tossing, tossing up into the air all around the mechanism…
…then followed by gouts of scarlet.
The eyes of Brett's mother Tanya, that surly cavewoman of a female…those peepers basically went POP as the combine chewed upon the bottom halves of her barbed-wire-bound legs, right then on that lawn.
"NO, LUV," exclaimed Jenny as she just continued putt-putting along, puttering about, puttering right over Tanya with the murderous mower…
"Steve and me, we don't suffer people who're pieces of shit…"
[SHRASH SHRASH SHRASH]
As the combine consumed Tanya's midsection.
"Not my Steve!"
[SHRAISSH SHRAISSH SHRAISSH]
As it demolished the disgrace of deflated breasts upon Tanya's chest.
Then the blades inching ever so intimately towards the neanderthette's face, her eyes flickering one last time at an aborted attempt of aping vitality.
"NOT ME!"
[SHHHHHRRRRRRAAAAAIIIIINNNNNGGGGGG]
It took a minute or so, but eventually Jenny managed to get the combine to progress thoroughly through the flesh-shredded mound of remains capped by a crimson cowpie that was once Tanya's head.
John cut a deep gash into his left cheek yet again as she espied the killer kindergarten-prepper alighting through his front doorway.
"I gotta say," she began, swaggering in almost drunkenly with faux fatigue, "I'm rather tuckered out after all that…bloody yardwork!"
This was on record the one time that a Brit uttered the adjective "bloody"—and one could actually take it literally.
"It's gon' be awwright, though…'cos I know everrrwun's hungry for somethin'…and I gots juuussssst the thing."
Straining his ears, John did all he could to come within earshot of what the peachy mudhead was making out just from without his household's front door, as said door swung starkly open and slammed agaist the front foyer wall.
"Unh…unnnhh…unhhh…"
Then a minute later, the door slammed back hard on its hinges.
Near to John, his loyal Doberman had for the past several minutes remained in silent suffering. But upon the assault of this new aroma upon its nostrils…
"AHHRRRAHHHRRRRR…!"
[BAHHHHHHNNNNNNNNN]
John recoiled, vomited into his mouth as the mongrel's shattered the wind near to his face in its abject yet grim stupor of excitement. He couldn't look over to see what was transpiring now…
…but perhaps it was just as well.
"Got somethin' fer ya, pup!"
[SLAPP]
[SCRAMUNCH MUNCH MUNCH]
"Brought the whooooollllle lot of it over fer' ya in a tub from outside!"
[SLAPP SLAPP]
[SCRAMUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH]
"Come now! Eat it up! Eaaaaat it all up!"
[SCRAMUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH MUNCH]
John alternated between cusses, grunts, and screams as he heard his hound chowing down on something that sounded so wholly…unholy going down.
He could swear too that he was now hearing his own outbursts echoed back at him from upstairs.
Bre…
Then:
[SLOOOSSSSSHHHHH]
"Have at it, now!
"Got some blood here in your doggy dish, juice-y from the very cow from which I got yer Tanya tots! Come feed! Come feed! Then slake your thirst, right well now!"
The next few minutes consisted entirely of SCRAMUNCH MUNCH MUNCH mixed in with SLURRRRRPPPs. All the resisting in the world could not shake these barbed bonds, it occurred yet again to John throughout all of this.
A minute more, and the next thing the fraction of a man could see over his head was the frazzled face of that nursery nutjob, as she hovered above like a cracked-out helicopter-parent-cum-torture-dominatrix…
…and, even more immediately in his field of vision, his canine's keister looming menacingly close to his face.
Then
"AHHRRRAHHHRRRRR…!"
[BAHHHHHHNNNNNNNNN]
"Awwwwwwwwwwwwwww…
"Little Bonnie…or is it Clyde…? Ahh, who gives a fuck! 'ill be fertilizer in a fucking hour anyway.
"Yeah, but pooooor snookums…let's call her a 'she.' She's awfuwwy sowwy her master dudn't have anything weft from the Tanya-tots for Daddddddy!"
The sounding of a few deft steps from yuppie lady-sneakers. Then:
"Buhhhuuuhut that's okayyy…
"Becawwwwwse…"
[SQUEEEEEEZE]
"AHHRRRAHHHRRRRR…!"
"We've got LOTS AND LOTS of snacks…desserts for our DADDY!"
[SQUEEEEEEZE]
"AHHRRRAHHHRRRRR…!"
John could not only hear it…he could feel the dog's excruciating misery as Jenny commenced to squeezing, again and again, the exhausted, famished animal between the barbs in its sides.
Just above John's face, the dog's haunches convulsed, ever so anxiously.
"AHHRRRAHHHRRRRR…!"
"Does Daddy want a chocolate? Is he ragging for a chocker? We thinks he is!"
[SQUEEEEEEZE]
"AHHRRRAHHHRRRRR…!"
[BAHHHHHHNNNNNNNNN]
"We thinks Daddy wants a chockie! Come now, dog; give us a chockie!
[SQUEEEEEEZE]
"AHHRRRAHHHRRRRR…!"
Jenny put her face next to the dog's ass for a split second, mockingly with her mouth wide open. Then, of course, she pulled back.
"GIVE US A FUCKING CHOCKIE!"
[SQUEEEEEEZE]
"AHHRRRAHHH…"
[SPPPPPLLLLLUUUUUDDDDDGGGGGE]
What then emanated had entered not only the mouth and down the throat of the modicum of a man—the noisome mound of mutt-manure manifested, spread, occupied the entirety of his features, weighed down his entire face, entered every orifice atop his frame…
…and mercifully asphyxiated him out of the sensation of Jenny's eviscerating him ever so thoroughly, hands from wrists, feet from ankles, privates from pelvis, with those elaborate Japanese blades hanging from the walls near to the bathroom into which her fate was originally to be found.
Within the ensuing instants, the nursery ninny would then overfill Bonnie, or Clyde, or whoever the fuck the dog was, to the point of almost literally exploding, with the Johnny-jerky that she could serve it.
…
…
…
Upstairs in the bully's bedroom, the main yob of an inhabitant was yammering and yelling, doing all he could to get someone, anyone to extricate him from the same bane of barbed-wire binding to which all the others in the vicinity were exposed.
Someone did come for him. And she didn't even bother to get the abovementioned jerky out of the spool of spikes with which she was now gouging Brett here in the side, then there in the chest, then there across the back of his neck…
…just as that other waster of a child took the flesh from the neck of her beloved Steve.
The very thought of Jenny's…Magneto Rochester of an erstwhile fiancé painted a momentary image of the man in her mind. She dwelled on this, lingeringly, as she drove that bathroom razor from minutes ago, down deep into Brett's groin.
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYAAAAARRRGGGHHHHHH!"
Jenny reveled in the thug's scream, let it wash over her most cleansingly. It cleaned the blood off her skin, cleaned the mud out of her locks. In her mind's eye, Jenny was as immaculately tangerine as she would have been on her wedding day.
She thought back to those glasses again, considered in her memory the two dark shade lenses that obfuscated Steve's powerful eyes—the ones that lay now a couple feet from a once-bullying but now-ballsless child bound up in wire.
"OY!"
The lady's giddy yelp make the pain-delirious child's ears perk up once more involuntarily. She looked like she were holding a couple of…what were they called when his family went all cultural and had Italian that one night…it was like nokey…gnoccey…
…they were two fleshy rounded cylinders, looking as drenched in red as the nokeys were that night his mum made too much tomato sauce.
"Ye'll get these back, you little shite.
"I'm gonna do yer a favor, though…gonna give ye' what I'm sure all those kids ye beat and burned to death, what they said ye' had all 'long."
Brett had just enough of an instant to let his pupils widen for the last time as that nursery cunt approached with his very gnards in the palm of her dainty hand…
…with what must have been those spikes he put in the grass—one on which Jenny had tripped and stuck herself, out there in the brush—a spike protruding from each testicle.
[SPLUTTTCCCHHHHHH]
"Ye got BOLLOCKS OF STEEL now!"
The pain was so incredibly intense, of the lady's driving the bladed semispheres into the bully's eye sockets, that the scream, again, could not be captured by adequate onomateopoeia. (That, and this author is getting lazy about it besides).
A few seconds passed.
"Hey, Bretty…
"Bretty, ye little shit…
"Where's yer binocks at? I'm taaaking my toppp off againnn…"
Jenny went on, teasingly, honestly doffing her muddied, bloodied dress and leaving on only a basically-blackened brassiere and panties, all for the viewing pleasure of positively no one. She danced around the room, Brett barely feeling the footfalls all around him.
He certainly felt the razor driving into his nether area again, though—and the rest of the family jewels being robbed.
The reader should not worry, as Jenny did not sink so low as to do anything traumatically degrading with the long, hard item.
Not to herself, anyway.
Brett was so out of it with pain at this point that he couldn't sense anything now, couldn't sense any more of the footfalls…
…couldn't sense his own, most disgusting member from downstairs, being forced hard into his maw.
"The…the jeepy…jeepy-ess…GPS said to TURN BACK…but there's no TURNING BACK NOW, Brett…
"Time to take the jeep into the gerrage!"
Jenny forced the horrible, now-floppy thing farther into the bully's mouth.
"Plane inna hangar!" Just like a spoon of porridge to an infant at a high chair.
Now farther, to the back of his throat.
"PLANE INNA FUCKIN' HANGAR, INNIT!"
Brett couldn't begin to disgorge the thing he was most proud of, not one centimeter, as Jenny headed off to get the matches and the perfume that elephant Tanya must have used to musk her baboon body odor.
-Oh, and the cell phone she scammed from one of the pool people she barbecued. Just like that piece of shit Paige she ran over…she just had to get this for posterity.
EPILOGUE
The little moppets in the nursery were used to Teletubbies or Boohbah…
…so they were a little more than nonplussed to see that there was no lovable pastel-clad bugger on the screen that day, but rather the slightly less genteel spectacle of a young man's body on a carpeted bedroom floor burning alive.
And as the cell-recorded video kept rolling, the familiar motherese sounded from behind the telly-arrested children, the voice's owner clapping her hands to her eyes and opening and closing the palms:
"Can you see me, peek-a-boo! Can you see me, peek-a-boo! Can you see me, peek-a-fuckin'-BOO!"
By the time all the boys and girls turned to face their peachheaded teacher, she already unfurled from her muddy/bloody dress the literal rump roast of Brett's immolated ass to splat on the grammar school floor. (She had at least the decency not to bring the defiled head).
The session for today, in any case, it ended with the same two words as always, this time double-entendredly to describe the children's behavior, in addition to the cooked condition of the bully's discarded backside:
"Well done!"
AFTERWORD
I know this story seemed insane. I'm actually not that much into extreme violence, especially intergenderwise. I almost never depict men committing any kind of violence against women anymore (Dead Rising or Alive was one thing, but intergender stuff goes both ways in fighting games all the time anyway). Chapter One Amends in the Abyss was another thing entirely, and it was sort of a statement by me railing against all the ostensibly-righteous asskicking that Hope was giving Scott, which made Hope IMO come off as all the more insufferable because in my opinion her character at least during AVX in Marvel at the time was the furthest thing from sympathetic or likeable. I still stand by that scene, and very few people read past that first chapter, and it's their loss, because it's a great story. Not nearly all of my stories are good, but Amends IMO is a great story.
But as for this story, Feed N'Slake, I justify the extremeness of the violence in two ways: 1), the John/Tammy/Brett family was savage as hell, and they all deserved this much. Watch the film and you'll understand what I mean. 2), Jenny here is equal opportunity, in terms of not only gender but also species, so there's no imbalance regarding the demographic of her victims. It usually bothers me that we have stories out there where women kick the shit out of men disproportionately, while men cannot do anything near that level of violence to women without compromising their character (and I SUPPORT the idea generally that men should not commit extreme violence towards women...my point is that going the other way, and having women slaughter men beyond recognition, is equally wrong). The thing here, though, is that she at least here not only slaughters Brett and John...she does Tammy and the dog as well...and let's just say that for the record, in the pool where she immolated all the people at the party, perhaps there was a girl or two more than the number of guys in the pool. There; it's equal opportunity.
So there. Watch Eden Lake-or just its ending, as there is a clip on Youtube that's only seven minutes and shows the final scene-and maybe one can see where I'm coming from here. I hope all are doing well, and I hope as well to write and post another story on here soon.