Feature Writer: Danté / edited and enhanced by Regis
Feature Title: THUNDERDOME 3
Published: 02.01.2023
Story Codes: Erotic Horror, Death, Murder
Warning: This is a story of pure fantasy. There are no such people, places, and no such incidents every happened. This is entirely derived from the lusting imagination of the author, for his own amusement and yours. Never engage in any acts anything like those depicted here, outside of normal, consensual sex. There is not much of that contained in this document. You must never attempt to influence minors in areas of sexual behavior, or expose them to the kind of activities herein described. Even the delectable little girls described in this story, with their precious little beautifully presented genitalia are not real, so what is described could and did not really happen, and never should. Enough said. Now grab your own ready and eager equipment in a fist and start reading!
Thunderdome 3
A new, frightening sound broke through the combined roar of the BMW’s, the raw-throated screaming of the hysterical participants, and the raucous music. It was a deep, powerful bark that smoothed to an assertive roar. It was the sound of the big cut-down Harleys being started. The ultimate killing machines were about to be released into the melee.
These were the major stars of the show, machines fitted with nude young women to guide them until the club’s senior players chose to take total control. The bloody battle of college girls and industrial workers who made up the teams at war was about to take on a frightening new dimension.
Wendy could not believe the sheer power of the motor rumbling and vibrating so close beneath her belly. She also felt the vibration through her pierced tongue, breasts and vagina, and she sent a golden stream of steaming urine jetting over the back fender of her bike. She had watched the incredible and unbelievably rapid transformation of innocent young women into willing violent killers.
She had watched the spectators shamelessly masturbating as they watched the carnage, and the young nude male and female entertainers performing their obscene sex acts to stimulate their owners. She wondered how well she would be able to control her incredibly cut-down bike while lying flat like this.
She guessed that the high point, her buttocks raised in that obscene posture, were no more than two and a half feet off the ground. Would she have the nerve to actually run over another girl? Could she take a ramp, and survive the landing? She knew she was soon to find out.
The dozen big Harleys were lined up in three rows four across. Wendy’s bike was in the third row, so she would be one of the last released into the Thunderdrome. She hoped that would improve her chances of survival, and reduce the number of girls to be killed. She wondered how she would know when the event was over.
She revved the engine to get the feel of the controls, and as the power surged, she realized there was little chance she would live to find out. She had just touched the throttle, and the vehicle had jerked, straining to be released. She had never felt such sheer power before. How in the world did they expect her to control it?
The first wave of Harleys roared to life as they were released down the launching ramp. Those below who were still capable of moving scattered as the four big bikes descended into the center of the Thunderdrome. Three of them roared across the flat bottom of the bowl and up the other side.
The fourth struck the edge of a barricade, and exploded in a monstrous ball of flame. The blast was deafening, and the flash of heat burned the flesh of any girls too close to the explosion. Wendy screamed through her extended tongue as she saw the burning bike skid to a stop on its side.
She was shocked to see the gas-soaked flesh of the still living rider aflame. One of the three that ran up the far side did not turn quickly enough, and the arm, hip and side of the rider were deeply gouged by the vicious wall spikes, although somehow the girl kept her powerful mount under control.
The three big bikes roared around the end bank of the oval, then swooped down on an angle across the middle, looped high on the bank at the other end, and established a figure eight pattern. Their turns were at different heights, so that quickly they were spread wide apart.
As they crossed the floor of the arena two of them hit others. One struck a mountain bike broadside, visibly breaking the rider’s back as it threw her and her bicycle high in the air. The gorgeous young nude rider landed on her head, snapping her neck and crushing her skull.
The freshly killed cunt lay on her back, her long beautiful limbs akimbo, displaying her genitalia as her carcass jerked and spasmed in death. From the audience’s point of view, this was creative art, a work to be admired. The naked bitch was nothing to them but fuck, meat, and was now totally fucked.
The other big bike hit the steel front wheel of a BMW, knocking the smaller bike flat, smashing the rider to the ground with such force that she bounced. The crack of her skull against the cement could be heard above the wild cacophony of other sounds that filled the hell arena.
Thick jets of semen spurted from the raging penises of men in the audience, and the women came in their own way, rubbing their clits raw with their sexual passion for this kind of extreme carnal violence.
The nude Harley rider inadvertently hit the turbo switch, and the big bike roared up the other side of the huge bowl, smashing the young woman she had knocked from her BMW into the impaling spikes. The dead girl’s bike exploded, and her freshly skewered human meat cooked to a crisp to the cheers of the spectators.
The steel wheel of the bike it had struck had ripped through the front tire of the Harley, and the rubber quickly shredded, so that the powerful bike was running on its rim. The rider slacked off on the throttle, so the controller high above her took over, and immediately gunned the big powerful engine.
The bike ran high on the bank, then swung around and dropped quickly into the bowl. The controller caused the big bike to broadside a BMW, then run up a jump, with the BMW stuck on the front fender. Both the turbo and the nitrous oxide were kicked in, and the acceleration on the ramp was fantastic.
The locked bikes flipped in the air, and landed at high speed with the two riders pinned beneath them. The combination of bikes and riders skidded through sprawled carcasses and living girls, then exploded in a burst that hurled large bloody chunks of severed bitch meat across the arena.
The second wave of big Harleys was released, and one of them collided head on with one from the first wave. One of the cut-down bikes flipped, and skidded across the concrete on its back, leaving a trail of blood and brain tissue as the nude rider’s head, shoulders and buttocks were worn down with the weight and friction.
The other bike smashed through a pair of roller blade skaters who were locked in battle, punching each other’s tits and faces viciously with their metal studded fists. The big bike then struck a girl on a mountain bike, then skidded on its side, spewing a trail of gasoline that was ignited by sparks from the skid.
The monster bike and its screaming naked rider burned with crackling flames for several seconds before the other tank exploded, blowing the burning girl right off her tongue, tit and vagina tethers. With her luck entirely expended, she fell in front of a speeding BMW bike, and its metal front wheel cut her cleanly through, dividing her in two at her slender waist.
Much more quickly than she expected, the third wave of Harley’s was released, and Wendy found herself being propelled rapidly down the launch ramp. The breeze generated by her movement cooled the beaded sweat that had formed down her back and into the crack of her spread buttocks.
She saw that this violent cunt-killing sport had turned onto a deadly demolition derby, and this was the kind of event she knew well. She had even driven in one organized by the students at the college, and knew she could handle herself well. The immense difference was that now the object was not only to demolish but also to kill.
Even though this was incredibly more serious than the event she had driven in, she knew that now that she was between a rock and a hard place, she had to be capable of killing these girls. Her life depended on it. She didn’t even know most of them, and anyway, they were all going to try to kill her.
She rationalized she had every right to get them first. Even though the odds were that she was going to die, she determined to take out as many other cunts as possible before her number came up. That was the least she could do to entertain the people who had arranged this event, and made her an integral part of it.
She had kept her eyes on Tammie, knowing that the worst thing that could possibly happen would be that she killed her best friend ever. It was very difficult to keep track of her friend because all of the girls looked the same in those leather helmets and mounted on those bikes. Tammie’s hair was a very light golden blonde, and that was her only distinguishing feature.
With her head held down on the back part of the front fender of the Harley and her tongue impaled on the horrendous spike at the front, Wendy wondered if her friend could even recognize her. The raised spread asses and shaved cunts and assholes of the Harley girls had to look a lot alike.
Tammie had never seen her genitals so outrageously displayed, and surely could not recognize her by them. More than half of the girls mounted so obscenely on the Harleys had strawberry blonde hair like her own, so it would be terribly difficult for her to be spotted zooming around this incredible Thunderdrome.
She wondered if, in the heat of battle, she would be able to be sure which of the BMW girls was Tammie. She had watched Tammie run her steel-wheeled motorcycle purposefully into a roller blade skater, and had seen her run down the cunt-leash runner, splitting her right up the back.
She knew for certain her friend was fully engaged in the murderous mayhem these evil people required of them. The question yet to be answered in her own mind was if she would also be capable of the same kind of desperate behavior. Now that she and her machine were rolling, she was going to find out quickly.
There were few options available to her. She was running at more than sixty miles an hour around the outside of the big bowl, sizing up the action. She felt she was hunting like a wolf, and the anxiety level in her gut was making her brain pound. What was spinning through her mind was the nagging fear of the snipers.
Riding along the upper rim of the Thunderdrome, she was flying past the impaled bodies of the girls who had been hesitant to kill. As she rounded one end of the Thunderdrome she saw ahead of her a big Harley chasing a screaming girl on a BMW. The girl standing on the smaller motorbike was chased up the wall.
The Harley was such a frightening sight the screaming girl on the BMW had driven right up into the spikes, and her crash onto them was spectacular. The Harley turned in time, but hit the ice and skidded, sliding over onto its side. When it hit the far side of the ice it flipped back onto its wheels, but was still out of control.
A shower of sparks flew out from the low-slung gas tanks as it rocked from side to side, and suddenly the tanks exploded. The bike’s rider was blown apart in the middle, her tongue and vagina anchors were ripped out of her meat, and the three parts of her split carcass cartwheeled high in the air.
Wendy rode right under the parted hips and legs, and barely missed the upper part of the divided nude. She was sprayed with blood jetting out of the ripped tongue and tits. She was now christened into the extreme violence that dominated the incredible bitch-butchering sport in the amazing Thunderdrome.
Suddenly a sharp pain burned her right buttock. What could have hit her? It was not the feeling of a piece of shrapnel from an exploding bike, and none had blown up near her. Her eyes roamed quickly to the upper corners of the arena, and her eyes locked on one of the marksmen. His gun was leveled at her! She had been shot on her bare ass by that prick!
She couldn’t believe the marksman had missed. Every other girl she had seen them shoot had either been creatively disabled, or had been killed outright. It was hard to believe that he had intentionally nicked her bum, cutting a burning grove across her otherwise flawless bum skin. That was it. It had to be a warning shot.
She gunned the engine, to show them her intent to kill, as she was required to do. Still questioning her ability to actually kill another young woman, she gritted her teeth and determined she was going to do it. She screamed a harsh throat-scream around her stretched tongue, and looked for a likely target.
The opportunity presented itself immediately. A cunt-leash girl was scrambling up the incline at the middle of the Thunderdrome directly in front of her, chased by a black roller blade skater who had got hold of the white girl’s club. Wendy leaned hard. The black girl turned in surprise as the bike thundered toward her.
Without hesitation, Wendy struck her dead center, between her spread legs. The handle grips hit the black girl’s knees, crushing them, and Wendy heard the bitch’s raging scream as her leather helmet struck the skater’s clean-shaved cunt a direct blow. The naked black, thrown backward, tumbled in front of the speeding bike, and the large front wheel rode over her.
She was crushed by the big bike, and caused Wendy to lose control of her roaring mount. The bike’s front end dipped, and sparks flew from the dragging right tank. With a gutsy move, Wendy gunned the engine, and suddenly the low bike was upright and hurling down into the middle of the bowl.
A ramp lay directly in front of her, and she had no time to adjust her course. Suddenly she was thrust upward as the wheels hit the ramp at an angle, and the big Harley was airborne. The greatly modified machine hit a mountain bike rider head on, and crashed down in top of her, so that she broke its fall.
Knowing that the only way to keep control of the bike was to gun the powerful engine, Wendy revved it as the bike’s big wheels slammed the girl against the concrete, and the rear tire ripped open the fallen girl’s belly open, spewing tangles of elongated guts out behind the big bike like a rooster-tail wake. The big machine bolted forward, and it was all Wendy could do to turn it before it reached the top of the bowl and the awaiting wall of spikes.
She made another run around the Thunderdrome, gaining speed, and she saw the girl on foot whose life she had saved moments before was still up on the rim of the bowl, quivering in stark terror. She was going to pass her by, but realized that if she didn’t take a serious run at her the snipers would put another bullet into her ass.
She knew the girl was dead meat anyway, because the snipers would take her out any minute for refusing to fully participate in the meaningless bitch battle. Wendy reflected that the lives of these young college girls, of which she was one, were not of much significance in the scheme of things, and with the emotional strain she was being put through, she had little regard for their lives.
She had watched at least twenty killings in the past hour or so, and by now they all seemed to run together. With what was at stake she had little remorse for running down that black roller blade skater or the girl on the mountain bike she had destroyed. With each one it was easier, and each one that died was one less that could kill her.
Wendy ran her big bike as close to the spikes as she dared, forcing the girl away from them. The naked teenager was having difficulty in those spike-heeled boots on the steep slope of the concrete designed for the rubber tires of a speeding motorcycle. The girl hesitated, but at last moved away from the spikes.
At the last instant Wendy swerved her powerful mechanical mount, just as the girl tried to dive out of the way, instead diving into Wendy’s new path, and she hit the flying and spread naked body of the pretty college girl in mid air. It was a perfect hit, and he results were spectacular.
The girl bounced forward off the front fender, and then swung around, as she flew ahead of the speeding bike. When the bike hit her on the way down, it rushed between her spread legs and her cunt hit hard on the fender just in front of Wendy’s face. The girl was tossed into the air forward a second time.
This time the pretty young screaming bitch was driven directly onto the long skewering spikes. She hit so hard that she was totally impaled, and smashed flat against the wall, held by the base of the stout metal shafts. She was now pure cunt-ka-bob! She seemed to be doubly naked, impaled like that.
At that instant Wendy had a different concern. One of the mountain bikes had become caught up, along with its rider, in the front assemble of a BMW bike. The poor girl who had been riding the mountain was now suspended above the steel front wheel of the BMW, and with every bounce her side dropped onto the upper surface of the wheel.
The bloody action was slowly sawing the nude cyclist in half at the waist. The girl riding the BMW was so horrified at what was happening aboard her bike that she was not watching what she was doing, and was heading up the side wall of the bowl, headed straight for the vicious killer spiked side wall.
Wendy saw her chance to score a double, and headed across the BMW’s path. She set the throttle to maximum, and aimed her heavy bike to clip the BMW’s rear wheel. That would be enough to send it sliding sideways into the long spikes. Her bike roared ahead, and closed fast on the duo.
Even with her new conviction to do what she was doing, Wendy screamed in horror at what was about to happen. These girls were going to die within seconds anyway, but she was about to contribute to their deaths, and to score a double credit for their dying. This was entirely beyond her ability to accept.
Suddenly and without warning her own bike leapt ahead with incredible additional acceleration. It was as it the machine were possessed. One of the remote operators overhead had hit the nitro switch. Instead of hitting the rear wheel as she intended, she struck the much heavier steel front wheel, and the BMW slammed around against the lower side of her bike.
The spinning metal wheel slashed her arm, and scraped deep gouges down her hip and leg. The BMW’s rider was thrown over Wendy, ripped off her cunt ring and landed upside down on the spikes, her back against the wall. Bloody spikes burst out through her naked front, through her belly and chest, as well as both her thighs.
This was exactly what the cheering and masturbating people in the audience had come to see, and their hope was that Wendy would crash onto the spikes as well, Wendy fought hard to keep the big Harley from running against the deadly spikes, and the task was so difficult she barely missed them.
With a feeling of relief, she ran down the side of the Thunderdrome and swung back up on the far side to see what had happened. The BMW she had struck had slid more than one hundred feet with the body of the naked cyclist pinned beneath it.
She had left a trail of blood as inches of her meat had been peeled off. The bitch was laying on her back, her upper body pinned under the bike, and with her spread legs kicking in agony. Sobbing hysterically, Wendy ran her Harley at the girl’s deeply sliced waist, and finished what the steel wheel of the BMW had started.
The lower half of the girl, completely severed at the waist, was hurled into the air, and landed on the front of another Harley, with the girl’s cunt pressed in the face of the rider. Blinded, the rider swerved to the left, knowing the spikes were on her right. The bike hurled down into the middle of the bowl, and slammed directly into a barricade.
The machine exploded, and both the rider and another girl, soaked with gasoline, began to burn. Tammie just missed being hit by the big Harley before it slammed into the barricade. She saw the face of the rider was covered with the crotch of the severed lower half of a nude girl, so she was not sure if it was her friend Wendy.
She had spotted Wendy twice, which was amazing, because those Harley riders, with their tongues pulled out and spiked to the fender of their bikes, looked all alike. In this endless nightmare of a cunt-killing spree it was impossible to keep track of the people. As the sport was designed, recognition of individuals was not important.
The entire sport for the involuntary participants was all a matter of avoiding being killed, and killing the other girls before they could do it to you was the only meaningful strategy. There was no order to the battle, and no rules to follow, other than self-preservation. One of Tammie’s breasts was split from the pounding by the batons, and several of her ribs were cracked.
Both of her hips were severely braised and bleeding from punches with the studded gloves of the roller blade skaters, but she had killed three of them, as well as four of the cunt leash girls on foot and two of the mountain bike riders. She had also taken out a Harley, for the amazing score of ten kills.
She had grown up in a small town, and had played boys sports, boys ways. It was only because of her proven toughness, assertiveness and aggressiveness that she had avoided date rape throughout school, and at college as well. That was also part of the reason she was so successful in this remarkable bizarre battle.
She hated most other girls, because the boys went after them and left her alone. Her only close friend was Wendy, and there was nothing she would do to endanger that relationship. Now they were pitted against each other, and the anonymity the riders had because of their helmets made it incredibly difficult to spot her friend.
She hit the rear wheel of a mountain bike as a Harley hit the front wheel from the other side. The Bigger cycle hit with considerably more authority, and as the bicycle flew above the Harley, the blades on it’s spinning front wheel sliced murderous gouges into the sloped naked back and buttocks of the Harley’s rider.
Blood spurted from the carved back of the Harley rider as the big bike suddenly leapt forward with a roar, out of the control of the badly injured girl. It caught a BMW head on, demolishing both the smaller bike and its rider, then exploded as it hit directly the side of a jump.
The blast threw flaming gasoline over half the lower floor area, igniting several dismembered female corpses and severed chunks of women. One of the unlucky cunt-leash girls on foot was covered with the flaming liquid, and ran up the slope, screaming and trailing flames as her flesh burned with flames fanned by her movement.
Tammie was by now at the other end of the arena, and saw ahead of her the roller blade skater whose lower legs had been shot off at the beginning of the contest as a warning to the others. Somehow the girl, wiggling on her back, had with incredible luck avoided further contact with the other fighters and their machines.
Obviously they thought of her as dead meat, and not worth the effort to pursue. Although the bitch had lost a lot of blood from her knee stumps, some of the major arteries had apparently been sealed by the explosive bullets, because she was still alive and able to hold her head up as she wiggled on her back, desperately squirming to get out of Tammie’s way.
Tammie, fully aware of what was required of her and of the results should she fail to perform, aimed the front wheel between the screaming girl’s invitingly spread legs, and hit her cunt dead on. She was doing more than sixty miles an hour when her spark-shedding steel front wheel hit the tender bitchmeat.
She made perfect contact with the bare crotch of the nude who was flat on her back, and the murderous steel wheel punched open the flared cunt, cracked through the bitch’s pelvic bone and split the naked female torso right up the middle. Tammie felt the jolt as the sharp steel front wheel hit the girl’s chin.
The murderous wheel struck with enough force to split her skull cleanly in half. Glancing back, she saw that was exactly what happened. Another cunt was dead meat, slit cleanly in half. This was turning out to be much easier than she had thought. It was not as if these girls meant anything to her.
Like her, they were no more than hapless college freshmen or working girls like waitresses and other kinds of total strangers. She didn’t know or like any of them. She was expected to kill as many of these cunts as she could, and it was, after all, the only way she could ever hope to get out of this horror alive.
Besides, they all wanted to kill her, and were doing their best to do just that. She was just doing what she had to, without any choice. It was getting easier. The bike she was riding was proving itself to be a wonderful killing machine, and best of all, it made the girls she chased afraid of her.
That gave her a sense of power, and she was confident she could take out others the way she had the girl she had split open like a shrimp. Thinking of them as being nothing more than wild animals made it much easier, and after all, she was right, that’s all the naked girls really were.
Tammie ran her bike up to the rim of the bowl to get a measure on what was left to do. There were female carcasses everywhere, and the roar of cycles had been reduced. She swung parallel to the spike wall with its array of impaled female cadavers, like animal carcasses in a meat market, and looked over the arena.
She saw only two of the big Harleys left, and one other BMW. The girls riding mountain bikes and bicycles had all been wiped out. All of the girls on roller blades or in spike heels had either been killed, or rendered helpless with severe hits, so those Harleys and the BMW were all that were left to go after, and she was game.
There were still a couple of skaters and a cunt leash girl still alive, but all had taken severe leg damage, so were downed and no longer a threat. The best they could do was take a desperate swing as a bike passed, or concentrate their efforts on killing each other. The latter strategy was exactly the course being taken.
One of the big Harleys was running across the bottom of the bowl, and Tammie set an intercept course. She judged the big bike would come up from behind a barricade, so she feigned a swoop down into the bowl, and at the last instant swung in behind the big bike just in time to follow it up the side of the bowl, keeping out of the sight line of the rider.
Knowing the Harley rider could not turn her head because of her impaled tongue, she used the extra speed she had built up in her descent to come in close to the Harley as it slowed just before its turn. She was behind it, and the naked rider lying along its length had no way to see her.
She brought her steel front wheel into the rear tire of the Harley, easily cutting right through the rubber. She watched the cunt and anus of the rider directly in front of her tense, and they seemed to wink at her as the girl realized what was happening. As Tammie expected, the terrified young bitch both shit and pissed as her desperate situation became clear.
The pretty young girl lost control of her big mount, and the bike skidded up to the wall, hurling the nude rider off her restraints and onto the rows of long spikes. Tammy felt a rush of elation that she had taken on another of the big killing machines and neutralized its ability to kill anyone, including her.
The big modified Harley jammed in under the spikes, rupturing one of its gas tanks, and it burst into flame on contact with the wall. The impaled girl above it was still alive, and she started to slowly roast. She had landed just to the right of the spectators, who had an excellent view of the naked driver’s slow and incredibly painful demise. The amazing death show was reaching its peak.
The outrageous young dancing waitresses made obscene gestures at the impaled and burning girl, pissing toward her, but she was too far into her personal horror to see them. Her screams through her split tongue as she burned were highly entertaining to the spectators, who cheered the contribution Tammie had made to their enjoyment of the murderous event.
From her position high on the wall of the Thunderdrome, Tammie saw the collision coming. One of the big Harleys was lining up the last of the living roller blade skaters, and as it swooped down on her, the other remaining Harley, dodging between the barriers and jumps, suddenly burst between obstacles and slammed into the right side of the other big bike.
The machine that was struck slammed onto its side, and as it skidded on the concrete it took off the leg of its rider at the hip, and her arm at the shoulder. This was an exceptional way of splitting a bitch, and Tammy appreciated the novelty of the incredibly harsh amputation of beautiful limbs.
The bike that hit it flipped over it, and after a three hundred sixty degree rotation, amazingly landed on its wheels. It slammed back to the concrete so hard that its rider was knocked unconscious. The bike roared away, as if it had a life of its own. The bike that had been knocked over bounced and rolled several times before it finally came to rest on its left side, the rider by now completely crushed.
Tammie could see that the arms and legs of the rider on the remaining bike were limp, so she was still unconscious, yet the bike performed as if it was being driven. Tammie had driven her bike down into the bowl of the arena, seeking out the last of the girls on foot, but her interest was on the last Harley.
The big machine made a perfect turn at the crest of the bowl, then began a run back down into the bowl, aimed directly at her! It was clear that the big Harley was being controlled remotely. These people were determined to get her no matter what. She would have shit had her colon not been jammed full with the shaft that replaced the seat on her BMW.
Tammie knew she had no breaks, but she also knew the slowing power of all those burnt female carcasses that littered the lower portion of the bowl. She chose her course carefully, being careful to keep her speed up until the last moment, so that the person with the remote controls for the Harley would not see her strategy.
She was moving fast, as was the Harley, and at the last second she ran over a pair of bodies, one of them badly charred and the other still alive. Her steel wheel cut into them, completely dissecting their torsos and slowing her at that critical moment that the Harley shot ahead. By judging the timing perfectly for both moves, she avoided the collision that had been planned for her.
As the big bike flashed by, she saw that the girl linked to it, who was just starting to turn, was her friend Wendy. She gasped, knowing that it was now either herself or her best friend that would die, and one of them would have to kill the other to survive. She also saw Wendy’s eyes and knew her friend recognized her before the big bike sped off up the side of the bowl.
The look of horror on Wendy’s face said that she not only recognized her friend, but knew she was going to have to kill her. That single look was the most painful moment in Tammie’s life. She was going to have to fight her best friend, and the only satisfactory outcome was that she kill her.
There would not even be a chance to hesitate, with those merciless snipers with their deadly shells ready to rip a hole through whoever faltered. She ran the BMW up the far side of the bowl, and when she turned, she saw that Wendy was back in control of her bike. She had made the turn, and was now speeding back to swoop toward the smaller bike that Tammie stood on.
Even at that distance, Tammie could see the look of both resignation and determination on Wendy’s face. Her friend was not only back in full control, but she was now a lethal threat. Tammie sobbed out loud. She had no choice: she was going to have to kill her only real friend. That was the only way she was going to survive this insane madness.
There could be only one girl alive at the end. Wendy was not going to be that girl. Cold calculation took over. She knew that against the heavier bike with its low build, she could never survive either a broadside or a head-on collision. Her only advantage was that her bike had much more maneuverability,
Unfortunately it had neither the speed nor mass of the other much larger vehicle. More than that, she knew she had to ensure that Wendy would die quickly, without pain. She sobbed aloud again as she realized there was only one way she could possibly win. Her strategy formed in her mind.
She would have to drive her friend up onto the spikes, forcing her to crash into the murderous wall. That was the only sure way to see that she died immediately, relatively mercifully, in a huge burst of flame. Wendy eyed her friend, running the tall BMW bike toward her as both riders sped down into the monstrous bowl of the Thunderdrome.
She knew a head on collision would probably kill them both, so that her best option would be to hit the standing girl broadside, hitting either her solid steel front wheel or the middle of the bike. Either way would ensure a hard crash. Hitting the rear wheel would likely merely cause a skid.
Although any kind of hit would definitely injure the girl standing over the rectal post, she would not only likely survive, but might even get the bike up and running again. She decided her best strategy would be to get up speed and run the rim of the huge Thunderdrome, so that she could pick her moment and strike fast.
She took a jump, speeding up the short steep ramp to leap her bike at the speeding BMW. She wanted to take Tammie high, to drive her hard onto the concrete floor. She was sure that her bike would crush her friend flat, so that she would not have to suffer. She was startled at how high the big bike leaped. Suddenly she was afraid she might miss the BMW altogether.
It was only by ducking fast that Tammie avoided the big bike taking her head off. She heard the Harley hit the ground hard, and realized how much that hard landing must have jarred the belly of her friend. She realized how daring and desperate Wendy must be to risk the jump at such high speed. She realized that they were equally determined to kill each other.
Now she knew for certain what kind of friend Wendy was. She felt with a sinking feeling that Wendy must have an equally low opinion of her. There was nothing to be gained by delaying, and the danger was that if they were slow to kill, the snipers might start shooting again. It the gunmen took out one, they would just as likely shoot them both. It would be best just to get it over with.
Tammie was once again high on the side of the Thunderdrome, and saw that Wendy was speeding around the outer rim, making herself impossible to catch. A head-on collision was the only apparent solution, and Tammie was not going to do anything so stupid. She swung down into the lower center of the bowl.
Her hope was to lure Wendy down so that she could take advantage of her superior maneuverability. She darted around between jumps, barriers and the strewn corpses of the many girls who had already died in the horrendous battle, or had somehow not yet died and were writhing in incredible pain and agony.
She was easy to follow, forced to stand tall on the bike with the stout shaft driven up her ass. Wendy kept her eye on her, and when she thought she saw an opening she swooped down again. At the last moment Tammie veered her bike, and the big Harley shot past. It looked like she was just playing an delaying game, and suddenly a bullet zipped through her left tit.
The impact was horrendous, and the tit kicked crazily as it was struck, but the hole was clean. The men had switched from the dumdums that blew apart inside the flesh. This had to be a steel cased bullet, one that as it made its statement, went through the big mammary cleanly.
It served its purpose, warning her that the snipers were still around and on her case. Her only option open was to aggressively kill. Once more Wendy was roaring around the perimeter of the huge bowl, high on the bank, looking for her opportunity. Tammie ran up the bank to the wall when Wendy was at the far end, but was down where there was protection again quickly.
Wendy swung down through the center again, but Tammie was up the other side when she got there. When she cam up the far wall, Tammie also stayed up, heading toward the far end. Wendy gunned the bike, deciding to slam the BMW into the end wall. Her low-slung bike raced at the slower BMW, closing quickly.
Tammie glanced back with a look of panic, trying desperately to make eye contact with her friend. She was successful, and held Wendy’s glance until she was almost on her. At the last instant she swung upward toward the spiked wall. Wendy reacted, but suddenly she was on the ice, sliding sideways out of control at nearly one hundred miles per hour.
The trick had worked. She had managed to distract Wendy’s attention from the slick ice until it was too late. When the Harley skidded off the ice onto the concrete, the flying sparks broadcast the wear on the thin-walled gas tank, and within a second the big bike burst into flame, then exploded, tearing Wendy in half at the waist.
Her separated halves tumbled through the air independently, ripped free of the rings that had held her flesh to the big bike. Tammie nearly hit the wall as she saw the two halves of the friend she had killed hit the spikes, to hang, impaled, on display. Tammie’s scream of despair rang through the huge arena, and her bike, barely in control, hit the flaming chassis of Wendy’s Harley.
The BMW had lost so much speed through the twisting and turning that it tumbled, landed on its side, and slid slowly downward, with Tammie screaming as she was dragged down with it, still impaled through the ass and clipped by her cunt to the frame. One of her legs was pinned beneath the bike, but the other was free.
She kicked and squirmed, trying desperately to free herself. That was when she discovered she was not alone. One of the cunt-leash girls, badly wounded but still somehow ambulatory, got up, limped over to her, and raised her club high in the air, poised to smash Tammie’s helpless body with her brutal club.
Tammie recognized the girl as one of the college cheerleaders she had been at a party with just a week before, whose name was Shannon. The athletic roller blade skaters had all been killed, and this girl, not even an athlete, was now one of the only two survivors. The hard look of determination on her face said she wanted to be the only survivor.
Completely defenseless, Tammie shrieked in horror as the club descended, smashing into her hip. She kicked out viciously with her free leg, but Shannon quickly moved behind her and out of reach. She raised her arms to protect her head, but was unable to see blows coming. The hardwood nightstick crashed down on her ribs, cracking three of them. She brought her arm down over her splintered ribs, and the club struck at her head, breaking her jaw. She was helpless, and felt it.
At that moment the injured girl with the club did something almost unbelievable. She stepped over Tammie to get a better angle on her head, and in doing so left her cunt-leash dangling across Tammie’s waist. Tammie grabbed the leather thong, getting a firm grip with both hands, and jerked down on it as hard as she could.
The movement and the sudden exertion hurt her cracked ribs, causing them to break out of her side, their fractured ends exposed, but she knew it hurt the cheerleader more, because the leash was attached inside her to her pierced uterus. Shannon lost her balance, and came down hard on top of Tammie, her pained cunt pressed against Tammie’s side.
Tammie grabbed desperately at the girl’s face, pressing her thumb under the girl’s chin and digging her fingers with all her strength into the desperate cunt’s eyes, digging them in beside the highly compressed eyeballs. Shannon leaned back and twisted away, but in doing so caused Tammie’s nail to gouge one eye out, blinding it.
The teenage college freshman reached desperately for her fallen baton and retrieved it. She slid off Tammie, but Tammie had a firm hold on her cunt leash, with the leather thong wrapped securely around her wrist. Tammie jerked again on the leash, bringing an incredible scream from the girl as it jerked on her internal gonads.
Shannon got her good leg around and kicked as hard as she could at Tammie’s head with the spike heel. Tammie threw her head back to avoid the sharp heel, and it caught her under the chin, driving up under her jaw and skewering her tongue. Her cunt gaped wide as she kicked, attempting to free her stuck boot.
The audience roared in delight at the savage battle between the naked and wounded girls. These young women, in the prime of life, were giving their all in their quest to kill each other, in accordance with the thoughtful and devious design of the program. They both understood their role and were performing as expected.
The leather-covered spike heel was wedged in Tammie’s chin bone, locking the leg to her head. Shannon reached around and smashed at Tammie’s thin leather helmet, doing more damage than she realized. The ornate ornament was designed for show, not to provide protection.
Tammie jerked repeatedly with all her might on the leash dangling out of the pretty cheerleader’s cunt. The results were becoming more and more obvious. The organ swelled, as if being pressed open from within, and as her brains were being so brutally battered, Tammie was successful.
She managed, as her last desperate act, to cause the teenage girl she was fighting to give birth to her own ringed uterus, ripping the internal godnad out through her cunt. The inner organ pushed her cunt out wide, and emerged, the winking dimple of her cervix protruding from the middle of the vicious organ-piercing ring.
It was by far the most obscene display Tammie had ever seen, but it did not distract her from her goal of killing the girl who’s cunt now looked more like a horse’s cock. She grabbed at the young naked girls big tits and clung to them, having no idea how, without a weapon she could kill the bitch or even defend herself. She quickly recognized her position as hopeless.
Shannon ignored the catastrophe between her legs, and hammered continuously and murderously at Tammie’s head, smashing her nose, her cheekbones, her jaw, and finally caving in her skull, spreading her brains amidst the bloody gore on the arena’s concrete floor.
When the body beneath her finally quit kicking and jerking, she tried to yank the spike heel of her boot out of Tammie’s chin, but it was locked fast. With an enormous effort, she managed to pull her bare foot out of the jammed boot and tried to stand up. She had to unwrap her cunt leash from Tammie’s hands, where it was still firmly grasped.
At last the naked co-ed struggled to her feet, and in the insanity of the arena, looked around for another opponent to kill. There were none. She was the last surviving participant in the incredibly violent games. A look of elation crossed the haggard face of the teenager. She had endured it all. She was the best, the champion!
She raised her arms in a salute to victory, holding her clenched fists high over her head. In a brief three hours of mayhem, she had become a highly effective merciless killer. The audience knew they would see a look of unabashed pride in the girl’s face, and she did not disappoint them.
They, on the other hand, were not averse to seeing her being disappointed. Devastatingly so. She bowed toward them, acknowledging their applause and cheering. Her big breasts swung free beneath her, and made irresistible targets. The four rifles barked within half a second of each other, and her dangling breasts suddenly bounced wildly with the impact.
Two skilled marksmen had put a steel cased round through each of the girl’s big swinging mammaries, and the bullets made a clean passage through the fatty meat, then ricocheted off the concrete floor of the Thunderdrome bowl. Now that the action was focused to a single surviving nude female.
the audience’s boisterous reactions were completely in sync with the brutal action they were witnessing and the trapped cheerleader was receiving. Since this would be the last bitch killing of the evening, it got their full attention. There were no others alive to distract them.
The girl leaped up so fast she flipped in the air, twisting, and landed on her side. She was in shock. These people had made a deal. They had forced her to perform disgusting sexual violence, reducing herself to the level of an animal, a fucking killer, and now they were breaking their word.
They had tricked her into killing other girls all evening just so that she could survive, and even though she had done everything they expected, and had given them what they wanted for their hugely degenerate show, now these despicable people were going back on their promise.
She bounded to her feet, screaming as much from anguish as from pain, and started to run. She moved amazingly fast for a girl with a leg badly slashed by the blades on one of the mountain bikes, and wearing only one boot. As she ran two more slugs ripped through the pumping glut muscles of her well-developed buttocks. Two more ripped through her calves.
Shannon fell again, this time skidding on the cement on her injured boobs. Her ass was propped high in the air, and promptly took another pair of slugs into her quivering meat. These found her anus, and exited through her back. Her hips crashed to the floor, and she took another pair of slugs through her calves, causing her to twist over onto her back.
A bullet through her boot smashed her ankle, and assured she would do no more running. The pretty co-ed cheerleader was now reduced to a very erotic piece of living meat, a perfect recipient for target practice. She impressed the guests with a strong performance, struggling repeatedly to get up.
There was no meaningful purpose in doing so, as there was no escape for the beautiful young naked target. Her efforts presented interesting views of her spread groin, her winking anus and her gaping cunt, in addition to creating great angles for the merciless marksmen to cause her yet more grief.
The men took full advantage, making her writhe and squirm as they put bullet after bullet through her beautiful naked body, being careful not to kill her before the special shot they had reserved for her. For this purpose, a large barreled flare gun was loaded with a six-ounce magnesium flare.
When she presented the right angle, one of the snipers fired the flare, and his aim was perfect. The inch and a half diameter four-inch-long slug plopped through the muscle of her lower belly, and lodged in her intestines. The moisture inside her tight tummy provided the perfect environment for the highly volatile metal to burst into flame.
The tiny cap sparked the metal, and her entire lower torso started to glow a light translucent pink from the intense fire burning inside her abdomen. White smoke mixed with acrid steam billowed from her damaged cunt, her shot-out anus, and the hole in her belly as she cooked inside from the flare.
Shannon managed the most agonized scream of the evening as she sat up, took four more bullets into her tortured naked body, flipped over, then collapsed, now reduced to a piece of battered dead meat like the rest of her fellow performers. The incredible show was now complete in every sense.
666
There would be no festivities following the college football game tonight, even if the team won, because of the mysterious disappearance of the bus-load of girls. The players’ post-game celebration party had been ruined. The boys would have to hire local whores, out of pocket costs they had not expected.
The only bright spot was that usually the hookers they hired were willing to do anything the boys asked, which was not true of the college girls, even those new to participating in sex ogres. They were used to getting their breasts and cunts smacked, and if things got out of hand, they knew better than to complain.
The driver of the bus that had carried the girls to Chicago would be exonerated, of course, because there would be several witnesses come forward to testify under oath that they had seen the bus arrive at the stadium, and all of the girls disembark. Somehow, none would remember seeing the girls enter the stadium.
Others would tell of a convoy of five out-of-state black vans that had been in the area, and would vaguely remember seeing some beautiful college age girls boarding the vans. These paid witnesses would remember the incident because it seemed strange that the girls would leave the stadium before the big game started.
Those statements to the police would be enough to ensure the ensuing investigation would lead nowhere. In another city, the women’s roller blade league officers would have to adjust their schedule, because two of the teams from the rough and tumble sport had literally disappeared off the face of the earth.
The bar they had visited after their roller game would be fully investigated, but nothing would come of it. Nobody would equate the two cases, because they happened in distant cities, a day apart, and with unrelated activities. Both cases would make headlines, but within a few weeks they would be forgotten by most, as life went on, or at least for most people life did.
Gorgeous young women would continue, of course, to involuntarily donate their lives to the deadly games in the Thunderdrome. There was still an excellent supply of the converted Harleys, and some of those wrecked in the first major event would be rebuilt and put back into service.
A new event was being devised that involved high speed winches on tracks overhead, which would allow some of the girls in the deadly competition to fly. The men. Were also designing a way for the nude girls on powerful bikes to joust
New incendiary weapons were being built which could roast a living girl from the outside or the inside, in a manner more refined than had been accomplished with the road flare. The more imaginative members worked hard to create new horrors for the young women forced to compete for their lives in the incredible Thunderdrome.
THE END