Predation Part 1 free porn video

Trey Logatto sat in his apartment and exchanged messages with an online friend. It was a month into winter, and he collected unemployment and did gig work between his construction jobs. At work he behaved himself to keep his job, but at home he lived like a madman, getting drunk and stalking local girls on the internet. At 6'3, tall and lanky with lean muscles, he was able to attract women. But he had been in a days long binge, and sat unwashed and dark-looking, with long jet-black greasy hair and a permanent scowl on his angular face. His current affection was for a high schooler named Gwen Rhys, who he had grown accustomed to for the last year, by finding her popular Facebook profile. Messaging back and forth for years using a fake picture, she found him attractive, and his personality good enough to allow him to stay over for a night while her parents were away. She had glowing platinum blonde hair, which she always wore in side swept bangs, whether long or short, up or down. She had sharp facial features; unusually pointy and thick eyebrows, catlike almond blue eyes, a medium sized nose, and slightly thin lips, with soft cheeks. She often wore just dark mascara, which blended with her perpetually dark and sunken eyes. Her face was peppered with light freckles that contrasted with her sharp-features. She had young looking body type, thin in stature and bones and with small boobs. She didn't do ballet, but had a ballerina-like physique, likely do to eating meagerly. She acted like a typical high school girl, who talked about volleyball practice, music videos, movies, and sometimes drugs. Mikaela Hess was who Rob had claimed, also in high-school. She was a tall brunette with very large round boobs and with some meat on her bones. She had a voluptuous body; with a nicely shaped waist and thighs, with medium-sized bones and thick legs. She wasn't unattractively overweight, but she was pushing it a little. Her face was appropriately chubby, and she had soft features. A smallish and pert nose, pillowy cheeks, full lips. She had long cascading brunette hair that parted at the sides and rippled halfway down her back and was often tossed around the sides of her arms, but usually gathering in front of her large breasts, creating a complimentary sight. She was a lot more affable than her friend, and seemed to be involved in more social circles, but focused on schoolwork and avoiding distractions. Trey had been talking to a guy named Rob on the internet for over five years now. The two were going to drive to their home and kidnap the girls. They had a plan, and guns ready, and would try to do the job and get away. If they were caught, they'd mutually assist each other in suicide. Rob was in some ways the opposite of Trey. There was nothing attractive or redeemable about him. He barely washed or brushed his teeth, he weighed 350 pounds and had bouts of cystic acne. To women, he was a prime example of ugliness, which he encouraged by rarely bathing, not working a day in his life, and getting extremely fat. He lived in a trailer in the middle of nowhere and got welfare for mental illness, which he smoked up in hundreds of dollars of marijuana a month. For the last year he had been laying off the weed and using his SSI checks to buy ammunition and protective gear. Since Rob didn't drive, Trey would have to pick him up at his home. They planned to do the break-in on at the start of November, with days of preparation beforehand. The house was located 3 hours away, in the middle of the woods. They had a small stockpile of guns and ammo in the back. Trey kept his window cracked because Rob made the entire car smell like ass. Trey studied Rob. He had a very fat face, with red marks all over it, as if he had been using clinical grade chemicals to wash. He smiled constantly, and had beaver-like facial features; with very large, crooked yellow buck teeth and fat cheeks. His hair looked like it hadn't been washed in weeks, and was dirty-brownish blonde and wasn't shaped at all, like it had been shaved half a year ago and grew in without barber intervention. He was 6'1 and the seatbelt was straining under his girth. He wore a black shirt with a picture of Marilyn Manson on it and thrift- store jeans. Trey dressed up for the occasion, with a well-fitting plaid dress shirt, tucked into pricey khaki pants, and black socks and leather shoes. He had a gun strapped around his thigh. Normally dressing more casual, he wanted to show off to the girls, who wouldn't be seeing Rob for very long. "So obviously, we're going to need to play this by ear and think of the fly, etcetera.. Think smart, you know? We don't know how when the parents will be there, or who will even arrive at the house." Rob said. "I don't know.. There's a lot of things weird about them.. I just want to make them squeal. Especially Mikaela." Rob laughed. "Mikaela's mine, you better not put your hand on her, till I'm done. You'll have to sit there and watch. You can join in after I'm done with her, so we can switch. Then we'll take them back to the house." Trey laughed. "You mean the trailer? Anyway, you're making me feel weird about doing this in the first place.." "Becha it's hard to stay off the booze just long enough to get us there and back, right buddy?" "Well, I've deprived myself without it for a week, so the seizures have come and gone. I'm a good driver anyway though, I drive when I'm drinking all the time." "So anyway, about being smart when doing this.. When I break in. If you've ever seen the movie Fargo, that's how I want to go there and get them," Rob said. "Just run in there with my guns while you distract them, then shove it up to their heads and lead them out to the car.. Or first get them into a bathroom where there's no windows or means of escape. You hold the gun up when I have my girl, then I'll do the same." "No, the other way around. I go first, because I drove and supplied more money than you. You go when I'm done, if the police walk in on you then too bad. We just need to make sure there's nobody in there when we do the thing." "Alright then, that's fair. Whatever. I just want Mikaela Hess, so leave her untampered." "No problem, she's too fat for me anyway, that'd be disgusting." Trey had been tired of dealing with her annoying, giggling and stupid behavior on his Skype calls, when she popped up in the last month, after talking to Gwen for months. At first Trey thought she was planning on ratting him out, but she later agreed to join in on the fun. "You got a thing for young looking girls, bud?" "I think we both do." The house is in a very secluded area, in a forest a few hours away from where they lived. They seated themselves at a winding dirt road that weaved behind the house by a small lake. No neighbors for miles around, and once they had found that out, they knew the girls would be good targets. Trey parked distantly from it and Rob peered from a set of binoculars at the back of the house and tall fence. It had been difficult seeing from behind the trees. Trey typed away on his phone, searching up answers to questions they had about the layout of the houses, and how many miles a scream could be heard from, and looked at Google Maps satellite pictures of the home. It's a secluded McMansion. Probably costing 300,000$ or more. Outside, all the modern-looking drapes were tightly shut. With it being mid- afternoon, it was harder to tell if there was anyone inside, but not even faint lights or signs of life showed through. Once they felt assured that nobody was watching them, Rob made his move. He strapped himself with a gun and vest and got out on foot to find a good place to hide. Trey stayed in the car looking at Google. Finding a pile of wood to balance himself on, Rob hoisted his head above the fence to take a look at the backyard. It looked as if the home had never been lived in. A well-groomed backyard law, but nothing totally empty and sparse. No outdoor furniture, no grill, no gardens, no hammock, no decorations. Nothing. The screen door's drapes were closed. Their plan was for Trey to unlock the back door door and get the girls into a secluded area of the house, and later give Rob the orders on his cellphone to come inside. He curled himself in a fat ball near the woodpile in front of the fence and watched for texts to come in. "They might not even be home" Trey's text read. "Whether they are or not. when they come home i'll be waiting for them," replied Rob. "I'm going to ring the doorbell. Be ready." Trey drove from the back road to the front of the home. The front lawn was surprisingly sparse and sterile, unlike houses that would be seen in Trey's own neighborhood. Nicely manicured and mulched, with decorative stone pathways and a small fountain, but looking completely unlived in and cold. An American flag hung near the bay window. He turned off his car and made his way to the house. He rang the doorbell and a voice chirped out, "Just a minute!" Then he saw a large female shadow come to answer the door through he frosted glass. It was Mikaela Hess. Her long brown hair looked feral and hippieish and cascaded over her chest. From the bottom to the top, small braids and beads decorated different strands. She was wearing a long, comfy-looking grey aran knit sweater, which hugged her hips. The sweater had a broad and exposed V-neck, which showed off her upper chest, but the full view was blocked due to a strappy white tank top underneath. Matching her hair, she wore many beads and necklaces, that hopped along her upper chest with every small movements, as she moved slightly closer to Trey. Under her long sweater, she wore short ripped jeans shorts which ended slightly above her mid-thigh, and her legs were bare and thick. Her sweater's arms came down low on her hands, but her little fingers poked out, painted in pitch black which matched her toenails. She wore a hint of dark mascara. Even though he was less attracted to her than Gwen, he felt an urge to hug her, and squeezed her pillowy arms, while stealing a look down her shirt at her udders. She had a big smile on her face. Rob listened from behind the house. "Gwen is in the shower. She'll be out soon.. How was your trip?" And the voice faded and Rob was by himself, waiting for his friend to give the sign. ******** After a surprisingly long wait of over an hour, he received a word back from Trey, "Okay you can come in now." And he tossed himself over the wall and snaked along the inside of the fence till he reached the screen door and popped it open. But inside there were no signs of life. It was quiet, and the house was smelled like death and rot. Only the most essential furniture was there and covered with garbage, along with the floors and everything else. He snuck into the kitchen from the living room, a stale plate of cookies sat on the crusty and spill-covered counter top. There was no table or chairs in the kitchen, just piles of boxes and trash everywhere. Everything looked haunted. Maneuvering himself around all the trash and not making a sound was very difficult. He texted Trey and asked, "Where are you?" Silently, he poked his head in the mid-level bathroom, which smelled like nothing he's ever smelled before. The toilet was caked in brown seepage, and old ice-cream buckets swam in a tub full of brown water. Getting confused after getting no response, he gripped his gun and headed up the stairs from the main room, expecting them to be in the upper-level bedroom together. After he made his way up, he was surprised to see that every upstairs bedroom was empty, except for piles of boxes and more garbage. With his heart fluttering, he began anxiously walking back to where he entered in from. Rob gripped his chest and his legs got numb, as he stumbled. Fuming that his friend was playing a trick on him, or something worse was going to happen, he realized the only course of action was to leave the house and drive away, if the car was even still there. Suddenly Trey texted him, "We're iiinnnnnn the bbaaasseemmenntt!!!!!" He felt relieved and staggered back through the kitchen hallway to head down the stairway. He slid down the avalanche of plastic crap and fast food boxes till he found himself in another silent and dim room. Getting nervous and confused, his gun limply hung from his arm, as he explored further, maneuvering past a wet bar with shattered glass and cracked liquor bottles. Cautiously moving towards a closed door on the far end, which he figured was a laundry room. Opening the door, he couldn't believe his eyes, but it appeared to be a dirt cloud tunnel that trailed far back into the darkness. He moved in a few feet, and suddenly shockwaves painfully subdued him from behind. Uncontrollably writhing on the ground, every time trying to move an inch he was zapped again. Gritting his buckteeth, he looked up to see both girls staring down at him. They efficiently gagged him and wrapped rope around his hands and knees and carried him headfirst down the tunnel. First removing his gun, then feeling for hidden weaponry. Both showing unusually high strength, Gwen carried him by the legs. He could feel her small arms tightly squeezing his legs. "He's got annudah one around his ankle." He heard a guttural and rough male voice say from where Gwen was handling him. His heart began skipping and believed there was police officers assisting the girls. Holding his upper body like a baby, his head was squeezed against Mikaela's squishy tummy, with her breasts resting right above his face. Then readjusting him while going down an incline, she cradled his head on her large motherly breasts, brushing against her thick locks of hair and beads, as she began walking down the stairs leading deeper into the ground. He smelled her nice perfume from around Mikaela's chest area, below his head. She looked at him and said in a dusky baritone voice, "So what were you coming here to do with that?" And choked out a grotesque laugh while giving a stern look, which looked incongruous with her babyish features. Rob felt like he was going to throw up. "I'm gonna get on da phone with da others," he heard the deep voice from his other side say, and he was uncaringly dropped him to the ground. Mikaela continued dragging him down the tunnel as his head was able to look up straight and see Gwen, cuter than ever in a babydoll dress and large belt across her waist, with an exasperated expression dialing a number on her pink phone. She paced back towards the wet bar, annoyed, while her phone connected to the person on the other end. Being dragged down the stairs, the most unimaginable metallic and rotting smell hit him. It smelled like a barn of butchered chickens were left to rot. He faintly heard the popping of a champagne bottle from the wet bar, as well as the other voice from earlier, "Yeah boss? Hey, it's me, 'Gwen'. Yeah I know.. Well we got a few-" And the voice went silent, as the door was slammed shut. His tailbone painfully being dragged by this unusually strong girl, down dark dirt-covered stairs that went seemingly on forever. The walls looked almost fleshy and cellular in the blackness, and he was overcome by a powerfully surreal feeling. He muffled out, "I just wanna see Trey and just get out of here", but it came out sounding "Ahh juck wawa ee Twey an chet owwa heww." "Shaddup." Mikaela said with the voice and intonation of a gruff middle- aged man, while tightly pulling him in deeper. He could feel her thick bare legs rub against his back while dragging him down, and he looked down at her black covered nails on her bare feet. Finally he was dragged into an underground room, where he saw Trey, who was also bound and gagged, tied to a chair. It was easier to see in this room, but the light was dim and ominous. The one bulb that gave the room light hung by a bare wire, and ran along the ceiling from the stairway. It smelled so bad he couldn't even breathe. Mikaela positioned herself with her little balled fists squeezed up against her voluptuous waist and covered by her sweater sleeves, arching her back down to look. Sneering and studying him with her beautiful green eyes. When he turned to look her eyes, she batted them in a mockingly girlish fashion. Then smiling evilly, then turned and sauntered up the stairs. He could hear Trey sobbing behind him. ******** On a late fall day, Mikaela Hess was seated at her desk, looking wistful and restless, with her hand placed against her cherubic face. Outside the window near her desk, there were some crows grazing on worms outside Lindmund's Academy. She wore a traditional school uniform, with a long plaid skirt, a white collared shirt, a buttoned up black cardigan, white socks that stopped under the knee, and mary janes. She wasn't feeling very good, and asked if she could be excused to see the nurse. This was just an excuse to be let out early and bum around for the rest of the afternoon. She didn't cut class often, but decided that she needed a break today. Her shoes echoing against the tile floor, she had the hall almost all to herself. That was, until she heard a voice quietly whimpering from the girl's bathroom. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no.. I can't handle it. I can't deal with this. I just can't.." The voice accompanied thudding on the metal stall, and rustling noises of a mesh backpack. She could hear muted thumping and sliding around on the tile, as if the person was making snow angels in the bathroom. Curiously, Mikaela opened the door to see an honor-student acquaintance, Gwen Rhys, who at first seemed to be cradling another young girl having a seizure, or at least a panic attack on the floor. Upon closer inspection, Gwen held back the girl's shoulders, with her arms wrapped underneath, restraining her. "What are you doing!?" Mikaela yelled. The small teenager casually acknowledged Mikaela's presence, and signed a finger to her mouth in a "shhhh" and then waived Mikaela over. Mikaela hurried over, and Gwen whispered; "She's having a bad trip." Incongruent with her feigned care, she was callously and painfully holding the girl down, who's eyes were dilated in horror, kicking and whimpering. Mikaela's heart began fluttering. Something about Gwen's demeanor seemed too nonchalant about this. "What kind of drugs is she on?" Gwen unhooked her arm and put it into the girl's backpack, which sat at her side. She jangled a bottle of pills, and Mikaela leaned in to identify the label. "Xanax," Gwen darkly said. As Mikaela leaned in the other girl spasmed away from Gwen, reaching for Mikaela like she was a baby grappling for her mother. Gwen seized up her one-armed clutch to let the girl get up, and grapple into Mikaela's arms for assistance. "You should have told someone. I'm going to take her to the nurse's office right now," Mikaela scolded. Gwen shook her head in a grim fashion, and jolted up. Raising her voice in a pleading and dramatic, but cold manner, "Please don't tell them that I was involved. I just didn't want to get in any trouble." "We'll see about that," Mikaela told Gwen, as she helped the staggering and retching girl out of the restroom, and down to the nurse's office. The girl shuddered to the point of vibrating in Mikaela's arms, and she removed her cardigan and draped it over her. The girl was slightly larger in height and weight than Gwen Rhys, but still on the small side. Like Gwen, she had light blonde hair and had it kept in a ponytail, with sharp bangs that parted in the middle and hung down over her face, each part pointing to one of her unusually widely- spaced eyes. Her facial features were small, and somewhat stupid looking at the current moment: spaced apart short eyebrows, pert and soft lips that hung open with drool coming down from it. Her head shape could only be described as moon-faced. Looking younger than her actual age, she was hunched over with the large cardigan draped across her back, dragging her Mary Janes on the floor and retching and groaning. Mikaela hoisted her, and forcefully dragged her through the hall to the nurse's office, alarming a nearby teacher to get a grip on her. "I can't do it. I can't handle it. No, no, no, no, no..." the girl moaned. Even as the girl was placed on a stretcher, she held on to Mikaela's hands tightly. She could feel the quick pulse from the girl's wrists. As they were waiting for the ambulance to drive up, she intensely stared at Mikaela with a wild expression, and squeezed her hand as tightly as she muster. "They're going to kill me," she groaned, as the rotating lights and siren approached. ********* The days went by and Mikaela had privately consulted several guidance counselors and the principal over what happened, leaving out the role Gwen Rhys had played in it. Mikaela was popular, and was acquainted with most of the girls in the school in some form. She disliked Gwen Rhys from her years in middle school, due to academic competition, but also her cold and off-putting attitude towards everyone. It was well known that she had dark interests, and engaged in drug use in the later years of middle school. Although Gwen never seemed to do any school work and spent most days cutting class or leaving the school entirely, she had excellent grades, and was awarded yearly for her educational mastery. The weeks went by and the girl didn't appear in the school when Mikaela searched for her. It had ended up being a surprisingly small incident, and her complaints about it were demeaned by everyone in authority that she talked to. She figured they just wanted to keep her out of it, and keep it between faculty. No one in the school even told her the name of the other girl. She had a nagging feeling that they were more suspicious of herself, than they were of the girl who had overdosed. A week later, Mikaela was reading in study hall, with her hand gripping her forehead through her thick locks of hair. She was trying to focus on her schoolwork, but couldn't stop thinking about the incident, or the fierce looks that Gwen Rhys had been flashing at her for the last week. Every time they came into contact, Gwen's bitchy evil-looking cat eyes would stare directly into Mikaela. She tried to stoically avoid the stares, and continued going about her day. Also, it seemed like people around her were distancing themselves. She figured that rumors were spreading, but she was not one to get dragged down into the mire. She was anxious and felt oppressive stares from others, and fleeting feelings of dread. She heard someone's shoes tapping up to her, and spun around to see Kimberly Han, a normally quiet and affable Chinese student with her arms folded against her chest, staring daggers at her. "I know what you did," she said, and stabbed her heel down, on top of Mikaela's, twisting it and turning it near the weakest part of her foot. It was surprisingly painful, but Mikaela exaggerated her pain and yelled loudly to get the other student's attention, then quickly kicked the girl in the ankle as she turned away. They looked at her befuddled, and continued minding their own business. Kimberly stumbled as she left, and turned around to mockingly smile and extend her middle finger. A month passed and Mikaela spotted the girl from the incident, slowly walking to class with her books cradled in front of her chest. Her front bangs had grown out a little bit and they hung on each side, each side partially obscuring and drawing attention to her strange eyes. She wore the back down and there were braids of various sizes, and beads in her hair. She smiled into the air and looked around vacantly. She hardly seemed to notice Mikaela as she walked past, who reached out and tagged her shoulder. The girl looked through her. "Are you alright?" The girl gave her an almost purposely stupid-looking smile and bewildered look, saying, "I don't know what your talkkkiingg abboouuuttt..." in vocal fry and valley girl intonation that was so exaggerated that it sounded sarcastic. Mikaela took her hand off the girl's shoulder and watched her walk away, giving her a confused glare. Trailing behind her through a crowd of students, Gwen sauntered up, also girlishly hugging her books to her flat chest. She had a surprisingly friendly smile and approached Mikaela like seeing an old friend. "Don't worry she's back to normal. Just has short term memory loss from that time. I just wanted to thank you for all that you did. You really helped her out, and I appreciate it." Her intonations also sounded overly casual and bubbly, like an adult doing an impression of a teenager. "No problem," Replied Mikaela quizzically. She felt uncomfortably passive in this situation, but didn't know for sure whether Gwen was behind the dirty looks she had been getting. After all, Gwen's circle of friends was pretty small and she tended to be shunned by most students. It was possible that word had gotten out that they had seen her walking with the drugged up girl, and other students had jumped to conclusions, separate from any influence Gwen had. "I've gotta get to class, but I just want to take some time after school to explain to you what happened that day, and clear the air about it.. If you want." She seemed friendly, but this surprisingly forward invitation caught Mikaela off guard. Still, she agreed to meet with her in the parking lot after school. ******** There was something intimidating about Gwen Rhys, that Mikaela couldn't help feeling. She was a very atypical student, who didn't demand attention from anyone else, and almost entirely stayed to herself. Now that this incredibly unfriendly girl who she had been around for years was extending a slight bit of politeness toward Mikaela, she felt it was enough to go on a drive with her. After all, before that last month she hadn't acted outwardly hostile to her, and they had a lot in common, both being in advanced classes and knowing other honor students. Mikaela knew some younger students who were allowed to drive by themselves, but none who were allowed to drive their parent's expensive black Lincoln Continental. But here she was, strapped into the passenger seat while Gwen drove, Her tiny arms hugging the steering wheel, with her seat moved all the way up. "It's just weird that we've both been in advanced courses and placement tests, but you never show up in class and seem to be gone a lot," Mikaela inquired. "Well I have secrets and study tips that basically 'give me my mojo', so to say. I like to record everything that happens in class, and then transcribe it using text to speech programs. If you want my transcripts I can give them to you," she said, with her little head monitoring the road. She was an surprisingly smooth and safe driver, who fanned the breaks and signaled even when there weren't other cars on the road. "That would be perfect." Mikaela then paused. "You know, I never told anyone who worked at the school that you were there that day.." "I know. My parents talk to the guidance counselors. Again, I really appreciate you helping her out and not trying to get me in trouble for it." "How do your parents know the guidance counselors?" "They're local psychology professors who taught a lot of teachers that work in the school, especially those in social services. Thankfully, they've connected me with a lot of tutors who keep me on track and are part of the reason I've been so competitive despite taking days off from class." "A lot of people have been staring me down and approaching me. Do you know anything about it?" "It seems that someone must have seen you walking the girl around, and suspected that you were the one who got her drugged up to begin with." "Did you get her drugged up?" "I'll be honest, yes. Reach into my backpack and open the front pouch, and find out how." Mikaela took Gwen's backpack out from the backseat and looked inside. Bottles of Xanax and Adderall, along with other assorted pills in a baggie, and a pink kief grinder. "That's really where my good grades come from. Do you want some?" "How much?" "Nothing, unless you tell people what happened." The two drove up to the large McMansion in the woods her parents lived in. They picked up their bags and carried them to the door, and headed inside. Looking at the frosted window in front, the lights were turned off, and there seemed to be nobody home. "My parents are really busy.", Gwen said while unlocking the door. As she opened it, a horrible smell hit Mikaela. The two walked in, their perfect leather shoes crumpling against empty fast food bags, unused notebooks and folders, and discarded makeup packages. A pang of guilt hit Mikaela and she felt she had the answer for why Gwen was so strange. Her parents had to be pretty noncommittal to let their house get as bad as this, which must be why she relied on counselors and tutors. The entryway was large and barren of any real furniture. Just piles of boxes going up halfway to the second floor. Unused electronics were spilling out of boxes on the floor, like the family had inherited Best Buy stockroom boxes. Shoeboxes with unused mary janes littered the hallways, and unused laces of girly tennis shoes wrapped around the railings leading up to her left. There had to be rotten chicken carcasses hidden under the monolithic pile of fast food bags near the kitchen entry to her right, because it smelled horrible over there. Passing the bathroom at the top of the stairs, Mikaela instinctively held her cardigan up to her face, and clutched her bag's strap close to her boobs. The bathroom was damp and dark, and she could spot smears of brown on the bathtub and toilet, and even on the mirror and walls. It smelled like the worst truckstop public toilet she could ever imagine, and mixed with the general decomposing smell of the house. She saw unused and open makeup, mascara and lip glass containers spilling out of the cupboard under the incredibly disgusting sink, with some packages even getting hit with the brown stuff leaking out from the top. Gwen pretended not to notice Mikaela's shock. Gwen didn't flick on any lights as she strode through the house, possibly not to expose the hoard to the light and illuminate the true grotesqueness of it. Mikaela was glad she didn't, because she could feel phantom cockroaches crawling up her back, and imagined that if the lights came on, a dozen real cockroaches would be there. They entered Gwen's room, which was just as dirty and disgusting as the rest of the house; with empty pizza boxes, piles of newly purchased school uniforms and clothes which went halfway to the ceiling, some with holes from mice chewing through. She had a king size canopy bed, which also looked recently bought, but was bare of any sheets and soiled with recently melted cookie dough chocolate chips from multiple open wrappers. On her wall were pictures of models clipped out from teen magazines with their eyes cut out. Naked barbie dolls with eyes blacked out from permanent marker hung from yarn nooses from the rails of her canopy bed, like effigies above a satanic altar. Gwen nonchalantly hopped up onto the bed, and crossed her legs on the pile of trash and girl's clothes. She kicked off her leather shoes and flung them at the wall, while Mikaela stood there ignored, with her cardigan covering her mouth. Gwen loudly belched, and unbuttoned her white button-down shirt, exposing a white spaghetti strapped tank top covering her small chest. Gwen looked young sitting upon the trash heap covered king sized bed. After removing her shoes she bent down and began yanking off her clean white knee-high uniform socks, exposing her skinny legs and black painted nails. She removed her black headband and flipped her golden hair, letting it fall stray and wild across her face, then and bent down and scratched between her manicured toes, After, she disgustingly raised her small fingers with uncolored nails to her face and inhaled. Mikaela looked shocked and horrified, and simply started heading out the bedroom door. "Aaawww.. Don't leave..." Gwen innocently pleaded while sitting up. Suddenly acting much more childish and unintelligent than she was letting on in the car. Giving her a puppy-dog eyed stare. "I've got to, it just smells too bad in here," muffled out Mikaela from under her cardigan, her eyes watering and squeezed halfway shut. "Okay, whatever," replied Gwen, as Mikaela walked down the stairs to the front door, being careful not to trip over the makeup packages and shoe boxes littering the stairs. "But we won't let you go," continued a male voice from Gwen's room. As Mikaela treaded back to the entrance, a hugely muscular, fat man with straw-like red hair, wearing a matching black camouflage shirt, pants and fishing hat leapt out from the kitchen, his sausage fingered clutching out in front of him in Mikaela's direction. She screamed, as he wrapped his huge claws over her mouth to muscle her into silence, while his other arm painfully squeezed her arms and stomach into submission. She kicked in all directions and bit down on the inside of his fleshy fingers, but barely even left a mark. He manhandled her, kicking and screaming down into the basement. ******* Detective Bobrowski paced around the one-way mirror facing the interrogation room, eating beans straight out of the tub with a plastic spoon. He was 6'4, fat, but with very large bones and a lot of muscle. He had a shaved head, and his face was heavily pockmarked and grimacing. In front of him was his female coworker, a thin and pretty Portuguese- descended woman with a tight pony tail in her dark reddish hair. Both wore business suits. She spoke into a microphone attached to a desk, which reverberated through a loudspeaker in the next room. The room which contained a padded cell, and contained a disheveled middle-aged man in a straightjacket. He was an admitted body jacker, currently occupying the host of a teacher at a private school. His long, parted hair was tossed and he was gaunt and lanky. Body jackers tended to be very narcissistic and talkative, and since they were near-immortal, they didn't have much to lose by speaking their mind. "Can you give me an estimation of how many students and faculty were infected at Lindmund's Academy?" she asked. "Allowing too much of the population would raise too much suspicious.. Soooo.. Hmm.. I would say about five to ten percent and growing. I knew some of these people," he casually responded. Although he didn't seem to fear, a cruel fate awaited him. After questioning, he would be placed into a very thick concrete container and lowered thousands of miles underground, so it would be impossible to emerge and infect someone else. They needed to keep body jackers on cells until they were finished questioning. "What other purpose is there of keeping the body jacker population small in these scenarios?" "Well.. In a school setting it would give investors basically the pick of the litter, as to what body they desired. I myself, am poor, and low on the totem pole in jacker society, which was the reason I was forced into an administrator and procurer position, as well as the reason I'm here with you now," His voice barely matched and sounded far too deep for the thin, skeletal man in the padded room. This body jacker seemed relatively easy to make confess, since he wanted an easy way out. If they lied or gave false information, a permanent torture device would be put on their skull or body, giving their near-immortal form a permanent way to suffer until he was cremated. If they really cooperated, their dungeon would be fitted with a small, but unreliable television screen, to possibly stave away the boredom before cremation. The detective flicked the bean sauce off of his chin with his huge index finger, and went to grab the mic from his small compatriot. He asked, "Can you tell me the names of other students and faculty you know for sure were part of this ring?" ******* Bobrowski was assigned as a guard at Lindmund's Acadmemy, which hosted the outbreak. Since body jacking was a strictly confidential and secret occurrence (so there wouldn't be a public panic and societal collapse), he would have to monitor in the role of a school police-officer. This would give him the opportunity to create relations with the students and also visibly keep watch over them, as opposed to a janitor or art teacher. It also helped that he had police training in his past. On his off-hours, he was ordered to monitor Facebook pages, yearbook information, financial records, and academic history of all students. When an outbreak occurred, the government would covertly overthrow the institution- putting the principal and other lead authorities in holding cells to be questioned. Even innocents would sometimes need to be killed, since the only way you knew for sure that they were a body jacker, was once they continued functioning with a bullet hole through their brain. It disparaged the agents to kill civilians, but was for the safety of the country. Government agents working with his agency had already overthrown the school. The principal and others were promptly fired and replaced and put into cells, and government workers were moved in. Facebook granted him free reign to look over private facebook accounts and messages. Being able to see hidden photos from the students was a nice perk, but it was well-deserved for a dangerous round-the-clock job that could take years to complete. He began by running background checks for the 350 students and faculty in the school, and would monitor their behavior through the 2,000 hidden security cams installed inside and out. When infected by a jacker, a student will usually kill their parents, or get another jacker to infect them. Rarely they would make them slaves. He and his team would also have to keep tabs on every parent or guardian in the school. A telltale sign of a body jacker is not just extremely irregular behavior (I.E. hoarding large amounts of objects and food like a hibernating animal, bizarre sleep patterns, changes in personality or religion, strange odors, financial changes such as receiving large amounts of money out of nowhere, changes in the family structure etc.), but also the disappearance of people around them- being they distant or close relatives, homeless people on the street, friends and acquaintances, or those within the same institution. Body jackers need to consume twenty to thirty times the amount of calories that a normal person has to, in order to not fall into an infinite comatose state. For this reason and also being largely sociopathic, they will often choose to consume other human beings they find around them, sometimes sharing them with other body jackers in a ritualistic fashion. Eating a normal sized human supplied them with at least twice as many calories than eating a whole cow or horse, it's unknown why this is, but it's the reason that so many innocents disappear around them. The more jackers in one family or institution, the more people would go missing. For this reason they had to stay separate and sparse enough that a mass casualty event wouldn't occur, because they also didn't want to alert the outside to their presence so that their vampiric society wouldn't be exposed to the light. The upkeep of being a body jacker in the first place is high, and for this reason they rarely can go about it without making important connections and fulfilling a role in their underground. The poorer body jackers will hijack a body used to perform a function (such as a politician) to assist the wealthy body jackers, which means living a riskier life or having to choose less than ideal hosts when comparing attractiveness and physicality. Richer body jackers are able to choose hosts more to their liking, and they more often than not thrive off ancient money from hundreds or even thousands of years. Countries have collapsed to due the sheer amount of food that body jackers demand, and it has historically leaded to mass-starvations of the people, while rich body jackers in government and royalty gorged themselves. Often those calories don't go to the body jackers themselves, but captured victims who were fed before being eaten. If they doubled the amount of calories in the human, the amount of sustenance would octouple when the jacker feeded upon them, giving them much more calories than a whole cow would. If they fed these humans near the point of heart failure and mega obesity, it would comfortably feed a pack of body jackers during their ritual. They'd ideally pick young and attractive bodies, but only the rich body jackers can live a sustainable life in, say, the body of a teenager girl, while also not tipping off secret police. The exception to that rule are basically serial body jackers, that will take over a string of five to ten bodies to their liking in as a joy ride and either get caught due to the death and suspicious activity happening around them, or fall into a coma from lack of sustenance. Once a person has been jacked, they die, and the jacker morphs into their form while their essence is siphoned into the jacker. A serial body jacker would end up leaving a lot of corpses in it's wake; the bodies it stole and the bodies it fed off of. Smarter jackere would stay in the same body for a long time, and since they stopped aging, it worked out pretty well for them. However, if they received a deep enough injury, it would never heal, forcing them to find another body or be caught. Managing this seemed like an impossibly difficult task, but secret government agencies have estimated that the already small jacker population had decreased by 60% in the last few decades, after improving their permanent torture devices with technology, and using modern smartphones to more succinctly monitor the population- the same reason serial killing and kidnappings have declined. The detective had been at the forefront of managing their population, having been through police and F.B.I. training, and later working with secret police and military to apprehend body jackers. He knew they would never be able to fully eradicate the problem, but they had it in a more manageable state than it's ever been throughout human history. Doing preliminary research on the students, Bobrowski found many discrepancies in school records. Students staying in the same grade for five years or more, taking years off and then repeating a grade for several years, names moving back and forth between high school and middle school or college, names disappearing and being replaced by a similar one on the same day, etcetera. It looked like there were more high ups involved to manipulate student records like this, and he suspected it went up to the highest levels. Thankfully whoever was doing it did a sloppy job and provided a lot of loose ends for him to untangle. He would research each discrepancy more closely, and research birth and death records of any suspicious names, also matching names to faces by studying the piles of yearbooks he had going back to the founding of Lindmund's Academy. ******** Rob and Trey had been tied up and gagged in their chairs over a week. Rob, who had already been fat, had gained close to ten pounds, and jeans had split a seam. Both smelled horrendous, but Rob's smell was almost worse than the chicken carcass smell. Trey had also become fat for the first time in his life, with his lean muscles now covered in flab. He had gained 20 pounds, and went from a lean 165 to chubby 185. They hadn't seen Mikaela or Gwen since they were brought to the basement, but people of varying ages and appearance would bring fattening foods and force feed them once every other day, to drink and eat well over 10,000 calories each time. They were also detached from the chair to go to the bathroom in a disgusting latrine within their cell. They held in their poop till they were allowed to visit the hole, but urinated themselves a few times while waiting. There were more doors near the latrine area that went deeper down into the dungeon. They had seen the visitors entering these doors without making a sound for 20 minutes. There could be an even deeper tunnel or stairway through the passage, possibly with more prisoners, but the two couldn't get up to find out. Centipedes, daddy long legs, and spiders often would skitter across their feet and ankles. They had seen mice marinating in the disgusting pool of water gathering on the side of the dirt walls. They supposed that if they weren't given water by their visitors, they would have to somehow undo their gag and drink that, if they could muster the strength. They were both parched, and measured their next visitation with their degree of thirst and hunger. They weren't nearly as hungry as most prisoners in the world, but even after eating 10,000 calories they would begin to get hungry after two days of not eating. They heard leather shoes knocking against the wood-enforced dirt floor from the stairs, and a pretty blonde girl skipped in, clutching her backpack straps with both arms. She looked similar to Gwen, but slightly older, with widely-spaced eyes that were accentuated by her bangs. Her hair was in a ponytail, and like Mikaela, small braids and beads were weaved throughout. She wasn't flat like Gwen, but her breasts were perky and on the smaller side, which hopped a little with her movements. She was wearing a school uniform with a plaid skirt and button-down white shirt, which she had unbuttoned to muster some cleavage. The last feeder had been a fat, bald old man, and this was at least a little better than that. Before him was an ugly librarian looking woman, who had visited twice. She put her hand to her mouth in shock, when seeing the two tied up and girlishly cried out, "Aaaawwww.. What have they done to youuu!?" In an exaggerated uptalk accent, showing feigned concern. Then she dropped her backpack to the ground and kneeled down to open it, and brought out two of the largest carton of Skippy peanut butter that could be bought at stores, then taking out a tupperware filled with homemade whip cream and bottles of chocolate syrup. She mixed them all together in a glass bowl, and held it to her chest in her left hand, with a spoon in her right hand. "Just kidding, I'm here to feed you," She said in a profanely deep male voice while walking to Trey. Rob started crying through his gag and started bouncing his chair up and down as much as his fat body could muster, in an adult tantrum. His face was beet red and covered in acne, and tears started flowing down his face. Since him and Trey were gagged between visits, they weren't able to discuss and muddle through the confusion. "Shaddup, fat boy!" She blurted, while girlishly turning to slap him in the face, making her ponytail whip around wildly, then knocked his chair and body to the ground with her foot. After turning back to Trey, she inconsiderately removed his gag and began spooning up a large amount of the sweet mixture. Trey had resigned himself and passively opened his mouth to be fed. The first time he had rejected his food, the old woman had revved up a hand drill to his skull to threaten him. "There you go.," she said in her male voice, in an aggressive mockery of a mom feeding her baby. "Here comes the airplane, open up wide. Choo choo," Her youthful and innocent face were congruent her motherly behavior, but her voice and evil mannerisms created a dissonance. Trey felt like barfing. His stomach held his food down, since he hadn't eaten for days, but he still felt on the verge of throwing up, the instant the teenage girl began shoveling the peanut butter into his mouth. After finishing, she mockingly said, "Allll doonnee," In deep motherly babytalk, and lightly slapped him on his face a few times, and tugged his newly fat cheeks, afterwards replacing his gag. After marching the bound Trey back and forth to the latrine, she headed back to Rob. Bending all the way down with her legs and dress curled to the side, she put her hands on the ground under her chin. She playfully tilted her head to directly look at Rob on the floor, like a girl looking for monsters under her bed. "You are not going to go to the bathroom, or eat anything. Stew in your own feces for and starve for the next few days, and we'll see how you act next feeding." Then she removed the gag, and pushed Rob in his chair to the dirty water that had pooled in the corner, sending mice scurrying. "And you'll drink this, okay?" Partly morphing back into her girl voice for the last syllable, before grabbing her empty backpack and charging back out of the room, leaving spent food containers littering the ground. ******* Jamie Kristiansen was on her fifth night in the hospital after her drug overdose, staring at the ceiling in the late evening. There was going to be a nurse to deliver pills to her at ten o'clock, and the patients were sent to lie down an hour before. So she ruminated about what led up to her hospitalization. Her parents were alerted after the ambulance was called, and they met her after her stomach was pumped. She was then sent to a mental ward for teenagers, where she was supposed to recover from her trauma while they balanced her medication. She thought about the days before taking the Xanax, and the strange people who she had been seeing throughout the last month. It all started when she was connected to a girl named Gwen Rhys on facebook. She had seen Gwen in he hallways, but she was in advanced courses, and the two never came into any real contact before private messaging each other. Jamie mostly kept to herself and had no real friends since middle school. She had body dysmorphic disorder, and severe social anxiety. She didn't do very good in school, since socializing distracted her too much. Since she was in elementary school she had taken Ritalin, to recover from a supposed ADHD disorder, but it didn't improve her symptoms, and instead made her drug-dependent. Through the last two years she looked to soothe her neuroticism by getting prescriptions for made-up problems from her psychiatrist, and mixing them with alcohol. This worked good until last summer, when her parents forced her to quit all drugs she was on except Ritalin. She had heard from mutual friends that Gwen Rhys had access to hard drugs and prescriptions, and made contact. Gwen possibly trusted her more than others, since it was known by students that Jamie had gone to the hospital multiple times for drug use. It was an easy connection to make, and Gwen and her had become fast friends over the last many months. Gwen would come to her house and they'd study together, but also go on rides in her car, while taking pills. Despite being intoxicated, Gwen was an amazingly good driver. Things took a strange turn when Gwen started getting close to Jamie. Jamie didn't have feelings for Gwen, but Gwen would make her do unnatural things during 'studying' time at Jamie's house. They would keep quiet, and Jamie's parents trusted the two together due to Gwen's good academics, but things would get dark. It started when they were on drugs together and in a disassociated state. Gwen Rhys asked Jamie if she could take off her shirt and look at her boobs, and she complied. There was something perverse about this young looking teenager wanting to see her naked, and it felt wrong, but she accommodated. Gwen would withdraw drugs during study time when Jamie wouldn't comply, so they found themselves fixed in a strange, permanent relationship. In exchange for allowing Gwen to sleep with her, Gwen would fill Jamie's schoolwork in for the last forty minutes of their visits. Her grades had never been better, and she had never felt so at ease with herself than when taking the drugs that Gwen procured for her. For Jamie, lying with Gwen was just something to tolerate for awhile, like a little sister who wanted attention. They would usually just lie on Jamie's full-sized bed, with her blonde hair nestled on Gwen's chest. Jamie didn't have large breasts, but they were enough to grab, and Gwen would vacantly reach out behind her to pinch, poke and prod them on occasion. Sometimes she drunkenly rolled over, so their bellies touched, Gwen's freckled face would kiss Jamie on the breasts, chest or cheek, her blonde hair gently tickling the skin above Jamie's tank top. This was not reciprocated, but casually tolerated. Jamie got uncomfortable when Gwen faced her, but they were both happy to spoon each other, with Jamie's arms wrapped around Gwen's taut ballerina-like body. Both decided to stay in clothes after allowing Gwen to photograph Jamie's naked breasts once. This lasted through the first few months at school, until the Xanax allowed Jamie to break out of her shell and make some different friends. Slowly she began to ghost the strange dark-eyed girl from her life. Gwen seemed unperturbed by being shunned from her former friend, and didn't readily retaliate or contact Jamie about it. They both just went their separate ways. Jamie's grades continued to improve, just as her outside friendships did. This period of months following her relationship with Gwen were the best few months of her life. But then things started to get strange. Random people she had never met before started trailing her, attacking her in public, verbally threatening her, or at least posturing themselves towards her in a threatening manner when walking by. This all happened during all public events; at school, when driving with her parents, going out to eat with her friends and family, or going shopping with her friends. Fat, old bald men would park outside her home for hours, flashing high beams, then giving the finger and driving off when she poked her head out the window. School kids would aggressively bump into her when walking down the hall. People would drive by her parents car on the road and honk their horns. People of all ages, shapes, and sizes threateningly gazed at her in public. Veiled, esoteric threats were left on her voicemail and email by anonymous teenage girls and older men. She was slapped at the cafeteria by a formerly friendly classmate. Her new friends started distancing themselves from her, and she found herself in the worst downward spiral of her life. She was running almost totally empty of the stockpile of Xanax that Gwen had given her, and she was abandoned by her friends that she had accumulated the last few months. Of course, Gwen Rhys jumped on the bandwagon and sneered at her, every opportunity she got. Her spoiled little cat eyes going out of her way to hunt Jamie down. Jamie didn't know what was happening, but fully understood that Gwen was at the center of it, even the stares from people in public. Traumatized by the one month of gaslighting, she contacted Gwen by text message on Sunday night, "Can you meet me tomorrow, I have something I want to ask you about." "Sure. Let's meet after lunch in the girls bathroom tomorrow." Jamie felt relieved at the possibility of forgiveness from the torment as she read the message, but panicked over the power that Gwen seemed to hold over others. As Gwen instructed, Jamie cut class and saw the skinny girl standing at the back end of the bathroom. Class had just started and nobody was in sight. She forwardly confessed, "I'm sorry I stopped talking to you.. It's just that things were getting kinda weird, and I had been getting over my social anxiety and making friends for the first time in my life." "Do you want more Xannies?" "Yes, and I'll do whatever you want. I just want my mental pain to end and things to go back to normal." "Lie down here with me," Gwen said as she dropped her backpack and slid her back and behind down the cold bathroom wall. With her dress splayed out in front of her, she beckoned Jamie over, like getting a cat to sit on her lap. "Right now." She took a pill from her backpack and waved it towards Jamie like a hypnotist dangling a pocket watch. "You sit on my lap this time." Jamie walked toward and cradled herself on the ground in a feral position, with her upper body on Gwen's dress and her head between her stomach and hips. "Thaatsss nice," She purred, luring the pill out towards Jamie, who weakly reached for it, before she drew it back. "Lay here for awhile," She ordered, and began gently stroking her fingers through Jamie's hair. A tear rolled down Jamie's eye. "We're girls, we support each other," she said as she reached down to hug Jamie, her blonde hair trailing over Jamie's face. Jamie opened her mouth and she popped the pill in. Jamie grasped Gwen's dress like cuddling with a blanket. Gwen squeezed her under her arms, and brought her closer. A short time later, and Jamie's heart began fluttering. She ignored it, as the dissociation creeped in, but it soon turned into heart palpitations. The beginnings of her stupor turned into a headrush of confusion. Dizziness and a stabbing headache set in, as well as her heart feeling like it was a bird in a cage, about to break through the bars and fly out of her chest. She instinctively shot up, but Gwen held her down by wrapping her arms around Jamie's, from under her armpits. "Sit down," Gwen hissed through her gritted teeth. The pain became worse, and Jamie reflectively tried to move. Every move she made was yanked back by Gwen's small arms, which seemed almost superhumanly strong. She writhed on the floor, exasperatingly asking, "What are you doing? Why are you doing this to me?" Gwen loomed down at her, and got up close to stare her down. Her girlish face arranged in a vile display of rage. Jamie didn't know if she was hallucinating or not, but an incredibly deep male voice growled through Gwen's gritted teeth, "You don't want to die, do you?" Jamie went into a full on panic. Kicking her legs against the stall and trying to backwards head-butt and bite Gwen's arms. The girl seemed unfazed, and easily restrained her. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no.. I can't handle it. I can't deal with this. I just can't..." she pleaded. Suddenly then, she heard a voice. "What are you doing!?" A tall girl with a large mane of hair that went down far past her shoulders ran over and rescued her from Gwen Rhys. After that, everything went blank until she woke up in the hospital. She looked over at the light reflected against the window on the wall beside her bed. Menacing and strange looking cartoon shapes morphed to the light cast by a dim street lamp outside the hospital. She knew that when she got back into the public that all hell will be cast down at her, but right now it didn't matter. She agreed to herself that she wouldn't even be going to school, and would do everything she could to stay away from the public. Even if it means self destructing or threatening her parents. She already broke the ice with this incident. Although she felt bad for her parents, having to see her in the hospital, it could be used as a threat against them to allow her to leave school permanently. The lights flicked on and a pretty and friendly looking middle-aged nurse walked in wearing scrubs and a face mask. She looked like a Mexican or South American, and had her shiny black hair up in a bun. She gave the girl a dixie cup full of horsepill sized medication, and a small bottle of water. Jamie took all the pills dry, like a pro, and followed it with a swig of water just to cure the taste. "You're pretty good at that aren't you, honey?" the nurse inquired. Jamie responded, "Yeah, I've been practicing my whole life. Especially the last few months." "Well, after this is done, hopefully you won't have to practice anymore." The nurse laughed and headed back towards the door. "Goodnight," she said as she closed the door. "Goodnight," Jamie replied. And fell into her last sleep. To be continued.