Cons-Reuct

The scene slowly resolves itself. There’s a naked girl strapped down on a table in a pool of light. I don’t recognize her, but her name is Pam. She has long, black hair that spills off the end of the table. Her breasts are perfect cones. So perfect they almost look fake, but I know they aren’t. I don’t know how I know this, but I know. Her bush is full and lush between shapely thighs. There’s a strap across her forehead, one around her throat, two above and below her breasts, and one across her belly. Her legs are raised and spread, her ankles fastened to supports, like in a gyno chair. A tall, masked man is standing between her legs smearing something white. Foam? Behind him, reflecting the light are shelves with white faces and vulvas. Pam is sobbing quietly. ...

It was hotter than he had expected. Granted, it was October and the weather outside had taken on a definite fall chill in the air so the radiator inside the apartment was steaming full blast, but he had not thought that it would be so warm and actually humid bundled as he was in the two huge, zip-tied trash bags. He was sweating bullets, and starting to reek from his own body odor in the close confines, never mind the rancid smelling garbage that Judy had dumped into the bags and over him before going to bed - how long ago? ...