Disclaimer: The following is fiction. The story’s content does not represent the writer’s beliefs, opinions, or attitudes. This story is intended for adult entertainment only. The characters and events depicted in this work are fictional. The author does not condone or promote unlawful activity as the story describes. By continuing to read this work, you acknowledge that you are an adult who wishes to read works of fantasy and fiction for the purpose only of fantasy. All the characters in this story are adults. They may play different ages for the fictional character they are depicting, but they remain at all times adults.
Feature Writer: Danté
Feature Title: THUNDERDROME DEATH-RIDERS 12
Edited & Extended: Regis
Published: 24.02.2025
Author’s Notes: This is a work of fiction, containing both graphic sexual descriptions and language. If you are a minor or if this is illegal in your area you must leave this page immediately. Under the Berne Convention, this work is copyrighted with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
Synopsis: Two young college freshmen are invited to take a bus to a free weekend party of what is likely to be all sex and drugs. Instead, the entire busload becomes the guests of a group of wealthy sportsmen who have devised an incredible new sport featuring naked young ladies strapped to incredible machines, originally Harleys, on which they have limited control, that are designed for mayhem and death. The intent is that the naked young ladies be involved in limb-severing, at the very least, accidents. Things get interesting and dangerous for them quickly.
Thunderdrome Death-Riders 12
The big machine caught a BMW head-on, demolishing both the smaller bike and its rider, then exploded into the side of a jump, throwing flaming gasoline over half the lower floor area, igniting several dismembered female corpses and severed chunks of raw woman meat, cooking them.
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 bare flesh burned with flames fanned by her movement. Tammie was by now at the other end of the arena, surveying the carnage below her.
She saw ahead of her the rollerblade skater whose lower legs had been shot off by four coordinated snipers 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.
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 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 the dire 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 splayed bitch’s cunt.
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, doing exactly what it was designed to do.
Tammie felt the anal-jarring jolt as the sharp steel front wheel hit the girl’s chin with enough force to split her entire skull cleanly in half. Glancing back, she saw that was exactly what happened. The divided halves leaked gore and blood. Another cunt was dead meat, slit cleanly in half up the middle.
This was easier than she had thought. It was not as if these girls meant anything to her. Lie her, they were no more than hapless college freshmen or working girls like waitresses and other kinds of total strangers. 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. She was just doing what she had to, without any choice. It was getting easier. The bike was a wonderful killing machine, and 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 the other cunts as animals made it easier, and after all, that’s all the naked girls were. She didn’t know or like them, after all, they were just sexy naked animals to her captors, and that’s all they could be to her. That made killing them much easier to rationalize while keeping herself alive.
Tammie ran her bike up to the rim of the bowl to get a measure of 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 mountain bikes had all been wiped out. 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 it worked.
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 tyre of the Harley, easily cutting right through the rubber. She watched the cunt and anus of the rider directly in front of her tense 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, bursting one of its gas tanks and bursting 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, allowing them to enjoy the entertaining sight 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, but she was too far into her 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 rollerblade 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, dissecting their torsos and slowing her at that critical moment when the Harley shot ahead, missing her by a couple of feet.
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 who 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 them. She ran the BMW up the far side of the bowl.
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 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.
The cold calculation took over. She knew that against the heavier bike with its much lower build, she could never survive either a broadside or a head-on collision. Her bike had much more manoeuvrability but 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 win. 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.
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 merely cause a skid, which would likely injure the girl standing over the rectal post.
That was not enough, since 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, doing a clean kill.
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’s flat so that she would not have to suffer. She was startled at how high the big bike leapt.
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, and hurt her tongue and cunt.
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.
THE END OF CHAPTER TWELVE