Ava Addams
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THE ADDAMS FAMILY: The Perfect Torture free porn video
THE ADDAMS FAMILY
Created by Charles Addams
Parodied by Ron Dow75
Please note: I have come up with a new pronoun
system:
-he-she, etc.- he accepts that he is a male
with a female body.
-she-he, etc.- he accepts that he may
becoming female.
-`he', etc.- he does Not accept that he is
in a female body.
-`she', etc.- he struggles to face
facts.
* And, of course, they have the reverse
meaning for a born-female.
01) The Perfect Torture
"Wednesday?" Morticia asked, rising from
her wicker chair with the large round back
gracefully, despite the very tight dress she
wore that went all the way down to her ankles.
"Back from school so soon?"
"Yes, Mother," the 13-year-old said,
looking through the large archway that separated
the entry-hallway from the living room.
"I thought school didn't get out until
three." She stopped to think about it, "Or am I
mistaken?"
"No, Mother. I left early."
"Oh? Did you get suspended again?" the
proud mother smiled.
"No, Mother. I brought a friend home."
"Oh?.Is that's what's in the bag you're
carrying?" she said, referring to the large one
writing about over her thin daughter's
shoulders.
"Yes, Mother. Her name is Gwyndolynne
Gravenkemper."
"Ahh.Such a lovely name, Gravenkemper.
"But she must be very shy. She hasn't said
a word the whole time she's been here."
"No, Mother. She has a ball-gag in her
mouth," said the pigtailed girl said dressed all
in black but for the white of her large round
collar.
"Well, that explains it. I wouldn't want
you to associate with anybody not as gregarious
as yourself. Unless, of course, it could ooze
off on them. Well, play nicely."
"We will, Mother. I'm taking her to the
playroom."
+ + +
The hand struggled, but Wednesday easily
hooked the last cuff clasp to its bolt on the
rack.
Gwendolynne Gravenkemper was as blond as
Wednesday Addams was dark, right down to her
sunny dress (though she wore no tights); but
instead of having long straight hair, she had
long, very curly hair.
Ever the perfectionist, Wednesday had been
careful to choose a ball-gag that matched her
13-year-old schoolmate's favorite color from
among her extensive collection. But, now that
they were on Wednesday's home ground, it would
be replaced with one with Wednesday's favorite
color, black.
"You'll never get away with this, Wednesday
Addams!!" Gwendolynne had such a lovely high,
piercing scream.
"But I have. ` Several times over. You
shall complete my coven."
"C, coven?? You're, you're going to make a,
a witch, out of me??"
"Why do they always say that?"
"You said "coven"!"
"Coven" is just a nice round number,"
Wednesday said, bringing the gag to her.
"You're not a witch?? E, everybody at
school says you're whole family-"
Nice and slow.. Dragging it out was part of
the fun, "That shows the depth of their
ignorance. Witches are nature worshippers. I cut
off the heads of dolls. Mother kills flowers. We
stay indoors almost all of the time, and if we
have to, we try to go out only in the gloom or
night."
Just as the ball was about to go into her
mouth, Gwendolynne made one last desperate plea,
"If you put that on me, you won't be able to
hear me scream!!"
"Yes, I will," Wednesday said, taking the
gag back far enough for her playmate could
better see it. "Not only does it have small
holes that let the victim barely bring in enough
air to fulfill the needs of the lungs, in a
strained and agonizingly slow process, it allows
the sounds they force through their larynxes to
come out, where the ball, itself, acts as a
resonator, amplifying and changing the pitch of
even a whiner like you into a most horrendously
gruesome ghoulish wail."
As the gag was about to be put on again,
Gwendolynne yelled, "You won't be able to hear
my cries for mercy, and incoherent babbling!!"
Wednesday Addams smiled like a connoisseur.
"You are correct. I shall leave the gag off,
this time." And she set it aside. "It is so
refreshing to find somebody who can understand
what torture is really all about. I shall put
special care into helping you appreciate the
black art fully."
"You don't have to do that," Gwendolynne
began her babbling. "I'm sure I'm incapable of
appreciating it!"
"I already know that. I have seen your
"artwork". Horses, and flowers, and.," it pained
Wednesday to have to say, ".smiley faces."
"-And none of them are black! Not even my
stallions! If, if you want me to uh, a,
appreciate your, "art", maybe we should start
out with something more, uh, colorful?"
"Green is too slow; red is too quick," and
said, like a bulimic eying a meal, "and yellow
requires too much drinking."
Wednesday started turning the crank of the
rack. "Black rhymes with crack".
"AAAEEE!!"
Wednesday stopped and looked down on her
guest, "I haven't done anything, yet."
"Sorry! I was just p, pra, practicing!"
"Ah, yes. That. It has been so long since
I've heard the cry of anticipated pain. It has
gotten to where I need to get to level 8 before
Pugsley will even react satisfactorily."
"Pug, Pugsley? He's your bro, brother,
isn't he?!"
"Yes," Wednesday said, putting her hands on
the crank again, "my _younger _brother."
"I, I have a brother, too!"
"Do you torture him, as well?"
"More like the other way(!)" Gwendolynne
was definitely starting to feel her arms and
legs being stretched.
"He must be an older brother, then. What
good are younger siblings, if you cannot torture
them."
Gwendolynne was now fully stretched out,
"Gwaine would *never *physically torture me!"
"He wouldn't?" Wednesday got to the point
to where she would have to put more back into
the turning. "What a waste of a perfectly good
younger sibling."
"The whole world isn't like you Addams's!!"
The pull had begun for her. "What do you think
it would be like, if it were!!"
"Why, then," Wednesday Addams smiled,
though she was about to use something she did
not enjoy, physical exertion. "The whole world
would be a dark and dreary place, where victim
and victimizer would be locked in an eternal
struggle to.."
Wednesday stopped. A new idea had entered
her head. "So that is Hell."
+ + +
"Pugsley, will you come into the playroom?"
Wednesday asked.
"Do I have to? I'd rather feed this stray
cat to the alligators." The very round smaller
boy had a crew cut, horizontally striped shirt
(to accent his girth), short pants, and socks
and shoes.
"That sick and mangy animal?" Wednesday
raised an eyebrow at it.
"Pugsley! I'm ashamed of you," their father
said, hanging by his knees from the chandelier.
Her wore a brown suite with widely spaced
pinstripes, and, at the moment, suspenders that
attached his socks to the bottom of his suit
coat, keeping both in place.
"I'm sorry, Father," the lad bowed his
head.
"I should say! Why put it out of its
misery? We'll keep it, and feed it to the
vultures."
"Oh, yes, Father!" Pugsley brightened at
the idea.
"Now, if you want to feed an animal to the
alligators, go out and catch a fine, young,
healthy one."
"Yes, Father!" Pugsley smiled, and turned
to do just that.
"Father," Wednesday hurried to intervene in
the plan, "I need Pugsley in an experiment I'm
conducting."
"Have you finished your homework, young
lady?"
"Yes, Father."
"Pugsley, why don't you help out your
sister?"
"*I *haven't finished my homework, Father!"
"But you have the time to act like an
animal control officer?" Wednesday said.
"Come on, Pugsley," Gomez Addams coaxed.
"Is it really going to hurt you to help your
sister?"
"Yes!"
"Any more than I have hurt you before?" she
asked, arching an eyebrow.
"No," Pugsley said, swinging a foot against
the ornate oriental carpet. "Probably not."
+ + +
"An electric chair?!" Pugsley said when he
saw what Wednesday had had dragged to the center
of the "stage", the most empty floor space in
the playroom.
"All you have to do is sit down, and let me
strap you in."
"Aren't we a little old for "electric
chair"? That game is for kids and criminals. I
thought you were more creative in your tortures,
Wednesday."
"Please," Wednesday said, sounding
insulted, "my little experiment in torture is
not anything simple, and mundane. It is a quite
sophisticated concept, one that I hope will
break new ground for me."
Pugsley shrugged, and went over to it.
Along the way, he noticed, "What's under the
shroud on the rack?"
"A body."
"Anybody we know?"
"You've seen her," Wednesday said, inviting
her brother to sit down by pushing against his
chest.
"What's her name?" Pugsley asked, sitting
down in the chair.
"Why do you want to know?" Wednesday asked,
putting the first strap around his right wrist.
"I want to look for her in the newspapers,"
Pugsley said, watching his sister buckle his
wrist down.
"We Addams are not that careless,"
Wednesday said, moving on to the next wrist.
"Uncle Fester is!" Pugsley smiled, as a
strap was brought around his left wrist.
"But he doesn't make the papers. Father
sees to that," Wednesday said, buckling the last
of the arms into the chair.
"Yelling, intimidation, threats to sue,
threats to make sure the companies he owns does
not advertise with them, bribery." Pugsley
smiled with admiration for his father, as his
sister moved behind him.
"Then Mother tells Father to simply buy the
paper, and fire anybody who prints anything we
do not want to see," Wednesday said, placing the
wet rag on his head, while taking the end of the
helmet's strap.
"Mother does like to take the drama out of
things."
"That's because women are much more
aesthetic," Wednesday said, strapping the helmet
around his chins.
"You still haven't told me what this
torture is about," Pugsley said, keeping his
mouth wide for her to put the leather wedge in
it.
"No. I haven't," she said, going over
towards the large switch in the wall. As was
the Addams custom, his chest and ankles were
left free to thrash about.
Pugsley said, while trying to keep as much
of his tongue away from his teeth as he could,
"That's not like you. You like to be the
"perfect villainess", explaining what you're
going to do before you do it. You said it helps
build up the drama and tension." It was
something he'd had many chances to practice on,
and was quite coherent.
"I have learned that, regrettably, it is
wasted on you, my too-inured-to-pain prey. But,
this, will rectify that," And she pulled the
switch.
666,666 thousand volts lifted Pugsley's
hairs and mind up; his mind, though, continued
on through one of the wires; it stopped when it
found a dark and empty place. It was too much
like a haunted house for him not to want to
explore it.
Then the electricity went dead, shutting
him in.
Pugsley heard himself scream. What in
Hades? That was not like him.
"What have you done to me!!?! What have you
done to me!!?!"
"You would rather I have, to use a current
vernacular, spindled, mutilated, and mangled
your body?" Wednesday asked.
"At least it would be My body!! I'm fat!!
I'm a boy!! I'm fat!! I'm smelly!! I'm fat!! I'm
clammy!! I'm-"
"I _know _the complete list. I am Pugsley's
sister."
"Pugsley?!! I've got piggy eyes!! I've got
a big belly!! I've got bad teeth!! I've got
thunder thighs!! I've got bad hairdo!! I've
got."
"Hmm!" Wednesday said. "This is working
well."
While Pugsley's voice continued to recount
all of the things that made him a real Addams,
Wednesday moved over to the shroud.
"I've got bad breath!! I've got pudgy
little fingers!! I've got a snorty laugh!! I've
got-"
Wednesday pulled the shroud that covered
him, "Hello, Gwendolynne."
"Mmmvvmm!! Nnmmff!!"
"You know you shouldn't talk with your
mouth full." She said.
"Hhrrnnm."
"That's better," she said, unfastening the
gag from the girl's head.
"How did I get over there?" `Gwendolynne'
said.
"Yes," Wednesday nodded. "Your mind is as
sharp as ever."
"Thanks, Wednesday. Are you going to finish
torturing me, now? I'm on the rack."
"Oh, the torture has already begun," his
sister said, loosening the first cuff.
".I've got freckles!! I've got underarm
flab!! I've got.I *don't *got legs hairs!! Even
the knees are fat!!"
+ + +
Wednesday returned from putting the gag on
`Pugsley'.
"I'm wearing a dress," `Gwendolynne'
finally noticed when he-she sat up on the rack.
"And panties. Yellow ones, I bet."
What's this thing around my chest? A piece
of bondage?"
"It's a training bra."
"And I thought I knew all the bondage
gear," `Gwendolynne' said, pulling at it. "It
could stand to be a little more uncomfortable."
"I knew he was more interested in gorillas
than girls."
"Gorillas!" `Gwendolynne' smiled. "Like
Gordo!"
"Or King Kong. You _know _that in all the
old black and white movies, the only kind we
watch, it is the girl that is always carried off
by the big, mean gorilla?"
"Yes."
"You're now a girl."
"You think I'll get to be carried off by a
gorilla?!" `Gwendolynne' smiled.
"Why don't you go to the carnival, and find
out."
"And I'll bring my acetylene tank and
cutting torch, just in case I can't arouse him
enough to bend the bars enough to attack me."
"Hmm, I like the sound of that, "arouse
him"," Wednesday said.
"Oh, no! Father and Mother won't let me
leave the house when it's light outside."
"That's why you've got to sneak out."
"Do you think I can? You know how hard it
is to escape from this house."
"I'll help you."
"You will?! Thanks, Wednesday!"
+ + +
`Gwendolynne' found that he-she was
unsteady on his-her new legs; he-she wove
around, sideways, backwards, and forwards.
"I think that acetylene tank is too heavy
for that body," Wednesday informed her.
"But I need it to help Gordo," he-she told
his sister, adjusting the straps that held it to
his-her back.
"You're wearing a dress. Just lift it up
and show your panties, and wiggle your bottom.
If that doesn't work, take your clothes off, and
climb up to the bars. You're scrawny enough now,
you might even be able to fit through the bars."
"You think so?"
"I guarantee you'll get a big response,"
Wednesday said, helping him-her lift the tank
off of his-her back. "Besides, it is not the
kind of accessory that goes with that dress."
"Yeah, so?"
"Do you wish to "arouse" attention or not?"
The tank clunked to the floor.
"I have a talent for that, no matter what I
look like."
"Actually, people try to ignore you as
much as they can. With this new look, though,
you will get attention like you have never had
before."
"Really?
"You rang?"
"I clunked, Lurch; and you're late,"
Wednesday told him.
"Spotting your Father," the 7-foot butler
informed her. "Turning blue."
"Fine. Lurch, you may show this person the
door. I refuse to associate with this false
friend."
"Thanks, Wednesday!" `Gwendolynne' said, as
the man-mountain took him-her by his-her arm
(and lifting it higher than was comfortable,
forcing him-her up on tiptoes) and started
escorting him-her to the front door.
Lurch opened the door with his free mitt.
`Gwendolynne' smiled, "You'll toss me off the
porch, right, Lurch? I'm light enough, now, you
might make a new record!"
"No, Lurch. You are to treat her like a
lady."
"A lady?!" `Gwendolynne' cried indignantly.
"I can't leave our property without *some
*bruises and contusions!"
But Lurch merely moved her past the
threshold, and, closed the door in the girl-
face.
As `Gwendolynne' pounded the heavy front
door, demanding to be damaged, Wednesday smiled,
"And so the torture truly begins."
+ + +
The iron gate clanged shut behind him-her;
the bar fell, and he-she was locked out of his
own home. And to make matters worse, adding to
his-her mood, it was bright, sunny and warm out.
`Gwendolynne' looked first one way, then
the other. "Which way to the carnival. I was
never good with directions."
The sun was getting lower in the sky.
`Gwendolynne' decided to head away from the
symbol of all that was not his life as an
Addams. At least "he" would be in one shadow.
It was not long before, he-she heard a car
screech. Unfortunately, no sound of a crash
followed, only, "Gwendolynne! You're safe! Come
here, baby, let me take you home!" She sounded
like she might be a relieved mother.
He-she sighed. This was not turning out to
be his day. Why couldn't he-she hear sobbing and
wailing, and pleas that their loved ones not be
beyond recovery?
"Gwendolynne? *Are *you alright? You're not
answering me!"
The car (at least he-she assumed it was the
same car) was backing up, and the woman was
trying to get his-her attention.
He-she tried to ignore her.
The car stopped. He-she heard the door
open. It wasn't long before that same woman was
in front of him-her, trying to block his-her
way. "Gwendolynne Glorianna Gravenkemper, what's
wrong with you?! Are you in shock-What did those
Addams *do *to you?!!"
"Is *that *who I am?" he-she said,
remembering the pretty blonde who seemed to
always be bright and sunny.
"Oh, my God.!" the woman said. And before
he-she knew it, he-she was lifted up bodily and
put into the car.
"Couldn't you have thrown me in?" he-she
asked as he-she was buckled into something.
"Oh, my poor dear, you *do *need to see a
doctor! I just hope whatever they did to you
doesn't leave scars!"
"Scars are for amateurs," he-she told the
woman, trying to take the thing she'd put around
him-her off. Now, he-she knew how to escape just
about any restraint he-she really wanted to (of
course there was that conditioning Wednesday had
done to him, but that didn't apply here). But,
"What is this device you have me trapped in? I'm
unfamiliar with the locking mechanism."
"It's a seatbelt. Oh, they did scramble
your brain, my darling!"
+ + +
Wednesday Addams took the gag from around
`Pugsley. "You're going to finish your evil,
hideous torture, now!!" `she' said even before
the string of spit to the ball had been broken.
"You've taken away my beautiful body! Now,
you're going to take away whatever use I could
have for this monstrously foul body!!"
"On the contrary," Wednesday said,
unbuckling the straps that held her brother's
body to the electric chair. "You're free to do
with it whatever you wish with it."
"I have no wish to do *anything *with it!!"
"Then I might as well break it," she looked
down on the boy with only one wrist free.
"No! No! I'll find *something *I can do
with it!!" `she' said, struggling to pull `her'
trapped wrist out.
Wednesday moved around to the other side of
this `Pugsley'. "I do hope you will be a better
brother than the old Pugsley was. Otherwise, I
shall have to replace you with another Pugsley."
"What??! I, I have to *stay *here-As, as-"
"If you can find a mirror in the house that
is not cracked," Wednesday moved to unbuckle the
last wrist, "you will discover your appearance
is hardly acceptable to few other than the
Addams."
`Pugsley' yanked the fat wrist from the
restraint, "Your parents will know I'm not
Pugsley! They'll, they'll-Make you switch us
back!! (You *can *do that can't you?!!)"
Wednesday got that look she had when she
contemplated one of her experiments, "Father?
Mother? It shall be interesting to discover
their attitudes towards the new Pugsley.
"Come. Let us find out."
+ + +
"AEEE!! What is that thing?!!" `Pugsley'
cried, pressing, by reflex, `her' fat ugly body
up against a bony and cold Wednesday.
"That is Thing. He is our handyman."
"He, he's hardly a Man!!"
"True. But since he's also not a opossum, a
giant rat, or a slime toad, we decided it would
be less confusing to refer to him as a "man".
"Thing, this is Pugsley."
"That's not my name!!"
"Oh? You would rather I introduce you to
all your friends as Gwendolynne?"
"No!! I don't want *anybody *to know where
I am!!"
"Fine. Thing, meet Pugsley."
The hand opened its palm, and smartly
stiffened its abutting fingers, its thumb up and
out.
"What's it doing?!!"
"Thing wants to shake your hand. It *is
*the polite thing to do."
"I don't want to be polite with, with a, a-
"
"The first rule in the Addams' House is
that politeness is everything. If you are, you
can get away with murder." The way Wednesday
savored the word "murder" sent, once more, a
chill of terror through `Pugsley'.
"Now, do you wish to offend something that
can crawl through walls, and appear out of no
where?"
`Pugsley' reached out a trembling hand.
Thing clasped it.
"AAAEEE!!!" `Pugsley' screamed, running
while trying to shake the Thing off of `her'
hand.
Wednesday sighed, and went in the direction
of the screams. "I did hope he would be more
original. We get that sort of response from just
about all of our visitors."
+ + +
`Gwendolynne' was still strapped in the
car, his-her arms over his-her small bust, "I
will not go anywhere "nicely". You are going to
have to wrestle me out of the car, and
physically constrain me. I shall kick, and bite,
and throw a fit. You may scream at me till me
eardrums bust."
"This is obviously the one she was talking
about," one of two big burly men all in hospital
uniforms said.
`Gwendolynne' stopped his-her demonstration
of stubbornness, "Are you orderlies?" They *were
*outside the local hospital's ER entrance,
weren't they!
"Yes, we are. Your mother sent us. Now,
will you come with us quietly? Your mama is
really worried about you."
"If I don't, will you use your big strong
muscles to manhandle me?" The two men gave each
other knowing looks. "Will you drag my rigid and
catatonic body into the psych ward? Will you put
me in a straight jacket? Will you soak me in
cold baths, and give me electroshock therapy?"
"Now, young lady, do you really want us to
do all that?"
"Oh, yes, please!"
+ + +
`Pugsley' finally managed to pull the Thing
from `her' hand, and toss it away with all of
`her' overweight, under-exercised might.
It landed in a haystack.
"Ee ftah, abberrtih vahckh thooo?"
"The haystack talked!!"
"Ebb itah, mmneh qualp ih lyewaa?"
As `Pugsley' stared at in sick horror,
`she' realized that it wasn't made of hay, but
hair! Long golden blond hair! It wore small dark
glasses, a top hat, and a cane with white handle
and silver tip stuck through one of its sides.
Suddenly the top hat moved!
"Oh phitah arreah, Mlle." The hairstack had
a hand growing right out of the top of its---
where its head should be!
No, as the hat was lifted well up into the
air, `Pugsley' saw that it was that Thing that
was holding the hat.
"Where are your manners, Pugsley?" a
woman's voice said. "You're suppose to curtsey,
when a gentleman doffs his hat."
"Then you know?"
"Know what, my dear?" Wednesday's mother
asked.
"That I'm really a girl!"
"Of course you are, Pugsley. Cousin Itt
only doffs his hats for the ladies. I assume
that is the part you are playing."
"You have guys playing they're girls?!! How
am I going to get you to believe I really *am *a
girl?!!"
"Not, now, dear. Your games later, first
company. Cousin Itt, aren't you a might over
dressed for this time of day?"
"Overdressed!? All he's got covering him is
hair!!"
"The top hat. It is a bit gauche this
early."
"Uhhem vehzzt, ptah vrup!"
"Oh, you *are *late. The "Continental" went
out decades ago."
"Bvah trreshh oll addah rrrt!"
"Well, if anybody can revive the craze,
it's you, Itt. But you will need a dance
partner."
"Op dah kraa-vtt orp hittah!"
"What a wonderful idea! Pugsley is such a-"
"AAAA!!!"
"Such manners, running out on company like
that. Even if he is family."
+ + +
"Wednesday, what is your brother doing?"
their father asked walking up to her as she
stood in the entry-hallway. "I like the idea
that he's running around like a mad man with his
head cut off. And he's even breaking the bric-a-
brac. But I worry about his constitution. If the
sheer terror doesn't kill him, the physical
exertion could make him healthy."
"I wouldn't worry about his health, Father.
After all, pure castrati seldom have long and
happy lives."
"True, you little dickens," her father
smiled at his daughter's impishness. "I meant to
ask you about that experiment you said you
needed Pugsley to help you with."
"The experiment is working out well,
Father."
"Do you mind telling your poor old pater
what's it about?"
"Not at all, Father. It was pointed out to
me that what's the use of Hell, if one has no
idea of Heaven. It is only by the contrast does
one truly know one is in Hell."
+ + +
"Mrs. Gravenkemper?"
"Yes, Doctor? What's your diagnosis of my
little girl?"
"It is as you feared. Your daughter has
suffered a psychological trauma. It is not the
first time I've seen this. This hospital is the
closest one to the Addams'. But it *is *the
severest we've yet seen.
"With your permission, I would like your
daughter, Gwendolynne, to take some medicine I'm
going to prescribe for her psychosis."
"Doctor, you're not talking about."Happy
Pills", are you?"
"After what I believe could have happened
inside the Addams' house, I think your daughter
could stand a little time in "seventh heaven".
+ + + + + +
+ + +
It could be continued.
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