by Ay Wun
KA-BOOM ! Tori Amos exploded.
Sssst crackle, crackle. The flames in the dressing room were intense! Only the sprinklers, finally activating kept the fire from spreading. Of lovely Tori nothing remained except a few flesh bits spattered on the ceiling. DNA tests of those bits proved that the sexy singer/songwriter was, indeed, the victim. The ashy sludge left little evidence of what may have caused the tragedy.
Tori had not been the first celebrity to have died in this mysterious manner, nor would she be the last. The things common to every case were that each was alone when it happened and all were beautiful women. Both Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie were on the list as was Salma Hyak.
Salma had not exploded, she had, like Debra Messing, boarded a plane in Las Vegas, bound for San Francisco and seemingly vanished into thin air. The reason these two cases and the explosions were thought to be related was that all these cases seemed to be somehow connected to the San Francisco bay area. All the explodees had made public appearances, of some sort in venues there or had traveled there shortly before it occured, though none of the tragedies had happened there.
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Shakira had thought it odd to be booked into Merl Hill Memorial Hall, in Dolcett, for a concert, as it was not really known as a place that had many latin performers play, but as she had a week free after playing a weekend in SanJose, she and her agency had jumped at another one nearby.
She was always happy, also, to sing in such a small, intimate, auditorium and the crowd was quite enthusiastic. She had become very annoyed, however, at the 'Secure Scan Booth' she had to enter going to and from her dressing room. These new A-1 booths were appearing everywhere, it seemed, taking over the industry and, she'd heard, were manufactured right here in Dolcett.
"Oh Well," she thought, "With all the strange things going on, maybe the security is worth the trouble."
The door slid closed behind her beautiful behind and a melodious voice said,
"Please grasp the two handles before you and stand pefectly still!"
The normal clicks and buzzes and the tingling on her palms began, then suddenly, it felt like it shifted sideways.
"That's odd, I've never felt......!"
She began to collapse as she lost consciousness but mechanical arms came out of the sides to hold her up, while other tentacle like appendages bound and gagged her. As this was happening, Shakira , seemingly stepped out the door opposite the one she'd entered and proceeded to her dressing room.
As Shakira, with her entourage, boarded the shuttle helicopter on the Hill Hall helipad her companions thought her oddly quiet and wondered if she might be ill. She said not a word on the hop to SFO and very little on the flight to Fresno where she was to do a second, late night concert. It was in her dressing room there, left alone for just a few moments, that Shakira exploded and burned.
Back at Merl Hill Mrmorial Hall, as the chopper took off, the beautiful blonde singer was removed from her tiny prison, just as she was awakening, and carried to the kitchen, which had replaced the set on the stage where she had given her last performance. Part of the audience, those who knew only of the concert, departed while the rest adjourned to a special side lobby for light refreshments as the hall was converted to a cabaret style dining room.
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A-1 Industries had developed the,"SecureScan" booths and the "RoboClones" as parallel projects. The booths, which really did provide their clients superior security scans at super low cost, also took DNA, form, and mental scans to be used for creating those, "RoboClones", were also used to ultimately harvest selected beautiful women for Dolcett dining pleasure.
The ,"RoboClones" are robotic facimiles combining DNA generated flesh externals with a robotic magnesium skelatal interior. From the data and samples, near perfect replicas were produced that could, for several days, fool all who knew the subject, although the deception could not have withstood long term scrutiny by those close, thus the explosions.
Shakira's,"RoboClone"would be the last, however, to explode, as that was drawing too much attention. The new, "Mark VI RoboClones" were programed to go to a location where a change of clothes was stashed and the means to alter it's appearance, so that a different person emerged, to report back and become a different subject. Now all those beauties would vanish without a trace. Except, of course, their mounted heads, in a secret gallery in Merl Hill Memorial Hall.
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That priveiged audience had now assumed their dining seats, ready for the new show. While waiting in the lobby, after the uninformed had left, they had all perused the video menu of other celebrity women upon whom sufficient data had been collected to "RoboClone" and voted for who to next harvest. Also, in that menu now were pictures of tempting beauties, who were not celebrities but often used "SecureScan" booths and could be harvested more easily than the celebrities for lesser feasts, or home delivery.
Shakira was now brought into the on stage kitchen to as enthusiastic a reception as she had recieved for the concert, perhaps more so. Stood now, center stage, her bonds were removed, though she was firmly held by strong stage hands. An artist known as an,"Unveiler" now made his entrance. Razor sharp swords, scalpels, and straight razors were his equipment, with these he now skillfully cut away the beautiful blonde's clothing, without making a single mark on her gorgeous body during his choreographed performance.
The struggling beauty was now attached by wrists and ankles to cables, to be stretched vertically a foot off the floor in an 'X' shape. The "Depilators" now came on stage with cauldrons of molten wax. Shakira was now ungagged and began cursing and pleading in both Spanish and English for release. Ignoring her, these two skilled performers began slathering that fabulous form with melted wax in artistic patterns, as the girl's protests turned to screams, to the delight of the audience. By the time her whole body, from the neck down, was covered, Shakira's screams had deminished some, to be resumed as the wax was stripped away, rising to a crescendo as, with a final dramatic flourish, her pubic patch was torn away.
The audience had wildly applauded and cheered these two performers but now grew still, as the "Gutter" took the stage. Clad in nothing but blood red straps, he was an impressive sight and all eyes were drawn to the razor sharp knife that hung by a fine gold chain from his neck, the blade precariously close to his genitals and laying flat side to a rigid ten inch prick. Shakira's eyes were wide, staring at this spectacle as the cables that held her wrists tilted her back to a forty degree angle and as they did the"Gutter's" huge prick entered her vulnerable vagina, in one smooth stroke to the hilt. She gasped, in surprise, then began moaning in pleasure, as his skilled movements found all her favorite spots. Sudden spasms of her gorgeous body told the rapt viewers that she was cumming, really enjoying this plundering!
The "Gutter"kept gorging her goodie until, seeing she was close again, released his load, bringing on her screaming second orgasm. Jerking his still spurting organ out he seized that dangling knife and slit that sweetie, in one swift motion , from sternum to pubis and as passionate screams became screams of agony, she was tilted over, by those cables forty-five degrees forward and her guts fell, with a plop, to the floor. As an assistant hurried from the wings with a tub to gather that mess, the "Gutter", with great skill, sliced them loose and strode from the stage to thunderous applause.
The "Stuffing Team" hurried out, as that "Gutter's" assistant cleaned up, and hurriedly cauterized the bleeding. Shakira continued screeching, as she was crammed full of stuffing and that slit resown, in what surely must have been record time. Many were amused by her screams being modulated into an accompaniment to one of her records, playing over the hall's speaker system.
The cables now hoisted that beautiful, though now bulging body, majestically toward the ceiling, as a seven foot spit, mounted vertically, on a wheeled platform was moved below her. Slowly, smoothly, down she came once more, as expert "Spitmen" guided her dripping pussy onto the gleaming point. She had stopped her screaming and was catching her breath, as this new thing began. First, more pleasure, as her cunt was moved up and down on that shaft and a vibration began that tickled her clitoris. Soon, she was cumming again, then, at its very height, more pain!
Through her cervix it tore and on into her womb. Further and further into her it went, guided by skilled hands, as she squealed and squirmed. Past that stuffing and into her esophagus it slithered. A hand reached up and taking blonde locks, firmly pulled her head back, just in time for the now bloody point to emerge. As the anal post was slid up the spit and into her twitching anus then secured, the cables went slack and released. Her arms and legs, now free, waved weakly about until her ankles were tied at full length to the spit. A chain cinch around her waist had cuffs at both hips to secure her wrists.
A team of four ravashing redheads, wearing skates, rolled onto the stage carrying pails of reddish barbecue sauce and rolled round, and round, and round thoroughly marinating that beautifully spitted body, causing her to quiver with two more orgasms, as they paid special attention to Shakira's tits and pussy. After tenderly wiping the blood that had run down the spit point onto her face off they went into the wings. A half circle of blazing red electrodes with reflector panels behind them, rose from the floor to neck height. As a shield snapped into place, protecting her head from the heat, Shakira began to turn, began to roast.
As she turned on her vertical spit, she shook violently for a few moments, then settled down to twitching, with an occasional spasm that may have indicated an orgasm. The last of these came twenty minutes into the roasting but it is doubtful anyone in the audience noticed. Everyone was fucking up a storm, even those marinade girls, after slathering a fresh coat on, would skate into that frenzied fuck fest for a quickie. Hours later, Shakira's suculent flesh was served to those sated sybarites, all of whom praised her delicious meat.
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At LAX, first Eva Longoria entered an A-1 "SecureScan" booth followed by Teri Hatcher. Eva waited for Teri on the other side. One of the two that walked together away, was not the one that entered.