(Exhibitionism, decapitation, snuff, technonecromancy)


On Friday, Katie Cooper, head cheerleader in her senior year, came to class wearing an audacious pink sweater. It was cropped short, showing the underside of her breasts. It was off the shoulder and rode low on her arms and chest, flashing the top of her cleavage.

But mostly she wore it because every time she turned her head, it pulled her blonde ringlets off her shoulder, and showed off the red and slightly purple bruises on the side of her neck and shoulder. One even had teeth marks.

She'd give Mr. MacDougal, the history professor, big leering grins that made his usual raging tirades wilt down to a quiet peep.

Most of her classmates celebrated Katie's victory over the raging bastard.

But Gretchen Fitzpatrick just saw another reminder. Katie had declared her a nerd years ago, and the words of the queen bee had left her a pariah. Now here she was, nineteen years old, about to graduate a year early, and she hadn't even held hands with a boy.

Who could blame them, really? With her big thick glasses and unruly mass of curly orange hair, freckles speckling her face, and now? And now she had to wear this stupid rig around her head with the two metal fingers hooked into her braces, desperately trying to pull her two big front teeth back into line.

She had tried a few times to dress up, but Katie's minions always let her know the nerd was stepping out of line. She gave up on that, stuck to her frumpy sweaters and ankle-length skirts and clumpy boxy shoes.

But this? This was too far. Katie flaunting that she used her body on a whim, while denying Gretchen any kind of contact? Oh, it was just too much.

Gretchen wanted to be angry, to be enraged, maybe even violent, but it didn't work. She just got depressed. Then worse than depressed. It wasn't even noon before she was bawling her eyes out in Miss Hatcher's office, sobbing raggedly into another wad of Kleenex.

But Miss Hatcher wasn't having any of it. "A nice young lady like you shouldn't let ANYONE dictate what they can do with their own bodies! In fact, I think you need to PROVE it! To yourself, and everyone else!"

Gretchen sniffled and snuffled, schlorping wetly around the orthodontics in her mouth. "B-Buth, M-Mith Hather... How... How could I thow them that...?"

Miss Hatcher grinned. "Oh, you could always sell it..."

Gretchen stopped sobbing instantly, almost like a switch was flipped. Her eyes went wide, and she was already hooked. "... Ooh?"

-------------------

At 8 PM, Annie Hatcher had changed into her uniform. Black leather thigh boots, a corset that hefted up her double Ds and kept her naked nipples on display, shoulder-length black gloves, and a spiked collar around her throat. She checked her featureless white mask in the mirror, unzipped her leather panties a little to let the top of her slit show, and started the webstream.

"Well good evening, you degenerates, and welcome to Mistress Hatchet's Auction Block! It's been a while, but I've got a fresh and tasty bit of meat for you tonight!"

The camera followed Annie across the dark stone wall, the loud clack of her heels echoing as she strutted over to the cage. Square and boxy, made from flat black iron straps, every rivet stretched inwards into menacing spikes surrounding the girl inside.

Gretchen was practically beaming as Mistress Hatchet leaned against the iron. "Sooooo, who are youuuu?" She asked, tipping her head to one side.

Gretchen giggled, and managed to raise an arm between the jagged spikes to wave at the lens. "Hi, everyone! It'th thuper to be here!" She slurped. "I'm-"

"MEAT." Annie growled menacingly through her mask.

Gretchen blinked, staring at the sudden snarl, then grinned wide. "Yeth! That'th right! I'm juth freth MEAT for thale! Thow uth your cath, and the fathteth oneth with the highetht bidth geth to uthe me for your filthietht dethireth!"

Mistress Hatchet giggled, and threw the bolt on the iron cage, pushing the gate open with a menacing creak. "Remember, the bidding goes in stages, so first one to hit the goal gets first crack at this eager little slut. But bid high and bid fast, and maybe you can get really rough on sloppy seconds! Or Nasty Nineteenths!"

Gretchen sucked in a gasp, her eyes wide behind her glasses. "N-Nineteenthth...?" She slurped, swaying a little at the thought of it.

Mistress Hatchet purred, taking Gretchen's hand to lead her out of the prison. "Oh, if they don't break you first-" There was a series of cash register noises, and then a bell PINGed brightly. "Oooh, looks like your schoolfriends were wrong, Meat! Looks like the internet DOES want to see you naked! A grand already means you gotta take that sweater off for them."

Gretchen squeaked softly, and froze as the blush spread from her ears and deep in her sweater to roll up over her face. "R... Really...?" She finally managed to whisper.

With a flick of her wrist, Mistress Hatchet brought her namesake weapon up from the holster on her hip to just in front of Gretchen's long, pointy nose. "You KNOW what happens to Meat that tries to back out..." She snarled.

But Gretchen had tugged down the deep turtleneck of her sweater. Despite the heavy headgear for her braces, she had painted her lips a bright cherry red, thick and inviting, if not for her two chipmunk teeth and the gleaming silver wire trying to pull them back in. She opened wide and stretched out her long, pointy tongue, licking the gleaming chrome hatchet lovingly. "Yeth, Mithtreth Hathet. The Meat knowth..." She purred, running her hands over the heavy grey cable knit. She tugged at the bottom edge, lifting the lumpy, formless sweater up.

Gretchen's waist was taut and narrow, with a furrow up the middle and the shallow outline of toned abs under her pale, unsunned skin. She swiveled her hips a little, slowly rolling her flat belly in a little dance as she raised her arms, turning her back to the camera.

Her back was just as toned as her front, revealing her milky skin over healthy toned muscles, making Mistress Hatchet whistle in appreciation as the sweater went up and forward, over Gretchen's head. "Oh, dear, sweetie Meatie, what HAVE those mean girls hidden from us all...?" She asked, gesturing to Gretchen's bare back. No shirt, no bra strap were on display, just bare skin as Gretchen pulled her head and hair free of the sweater.

Gretchen blushed, and bowed her head, looking down and away as she turned back to the camera. "Oh... Oh, pleathe, don't teathe, Mithtreth..." She pleaded, still holding the sweater to her chest a moment more. Then she sighed, and pulled at the cuffs of her sweater, pulling her arms from the sleeves and tossing it aside.

Massive round melons wobbled and bounced on Gretchen's chest, easily G-cup breasts, but they sat high and proud and almost perfectly spherical on her chest, her broad brown areolae and jutting shotglass-sized brown nipples sitting well above the horizontal, pointing a bit toward the ceiling as she stood there. Gretchen blushed worse, her hefty tits wobbling as she rubbed her hands on her opposite arms. "Thurely I'm jutht a gawky, gangly thcarecrow compared to all the THECKTHY Meat that cometh through the auctionth..."

Annie only managed choked-off little gargly noises for a moment, staring at those huge hooters, thankful for the featureless mask hiding her face. The loud rattle of cash machines and pinging bells startled her awake, a shake of her head making her glossy black Bettie Page tresses bounce and shimmer. "Ah, ah, Meat, no stopping... Five grand already! And your skirt was meant to go at two and a half... Five was for your panties."

Gretchen let out a nervous squeak at that, and gulped loudly. "Ah, ah, p-Pantieth...?" She lisped, but her hands were already at her belt, pulling it back and dragging it from her waistline, pushing a zipper down off her hip to open the side of her skirt. Her arms crossed above her head, and she gave a little wriggle to shake the heavy fabric free, her formless skirt sliding off the wide flare of her hips and dropping quickly down her long, slick, shapely legs.

Gretchen gave a little whimper, standing in her white cotton panties, with the little blue bow in front. Mistress Hatchet gave a bit of a frown behind her mask. It was kind of... Full in front? Not a bulge, but... There was a lot of SOMETHING in there.

Gretchen was turning around, bending over as her thumbs whisked the white panties over her broad hips, uncovering the full hemispheres of her taut bubble butt. She was squeezing her thighs together, doing everything she could, but bending over so far and lifting her feet to step out of her shoes and panties flashed the tight brown ring of her anus, and the thick brown lips of her soggy pussy at the camera.

Fat meaty folds... And a lot of curly, copper-orange hair.

Gretchen was whimpering a little, nibbling her plush, painted bottom lip as she straightened up, with her sweater, skirt, panties and shoes in a loose bundle. She held them low as she padded barefoot a few steps past Mistress Hatchet, dumping them all into an iron brazier, the flames eagerly consuming her clothing as she finally had to turn and face the camera again.

She took the long way around, showing off the light spatter of freckles on the upper curves of her milky ass, and put her hands on her hips as she turned around, hoping the shake and bounce of her hefty tits might distract the camera.

But no, the wild copper thatch of her pubic hair was on display, thick and dense, nearly up to her navel.

The response from the bidders was nearly instant. "Oh, we're pausing the auction, ladies and gentlemen. We need to get the Meat trussed up properly for the next bit of our act..." Mistress Hatchet purred, her hands snatching Gretchen's wrists and twisting both arms up behind her back. "Now, the three-way starts when the video comes back on. Whichever of the three outfits wins, we'll get our cute little cut of Meat to dress up in for entertaining our first Big Spender!"

Gretchen let out a pained yelp as Mistress Hatchet pulled her wrists up behind her neck. "And won't THAT be fun, Meat, finally getting to First Baste...?"

Gretchen whimpered a bit, but smiled nervously at the camera as it zoomed in on her face and breasts. She thought for a moment, then opened wide, wider, unfurling her long, pointy tongue as she stretched her plush painted lips in a tall O.

"I, I practithed on bananath...?" She tried gamely, going all red across her face again, just before the video cut out.