This is last part of Guro-Gal that I have.

Episode 6: Variety Snuff-Part 4

Why couldn’t she remember?

It wasn’t that Emily had ignored the footage she had just seen on the small camcorder screen; no, that would have been too out of character for her. The truth was that she had stared at that footage for the near four and a half minutes it took from her posing to the wall, and Tommy leaving the room in cum-soaked jeans, yet trying to recall the entire scene had come to no result within her mind.

First she had forgotten to say something she had nailed onto her mind for nearly a half-hour, and now the last four minutes of her life had suddenly become a complete blur? What the hell was happening to her?

“Hey Em, are you doing alright? You’ve been feeling stiff since we sat down.”

With a light nudge to her side (or at least it intended to be light, yet it felt like a hot iron had just grazed her shoulder), Emily regained her focus to reality, and once again not wishing to give him worry, told him she was fine.

“Okay; well what did you think of the video, was the pacing good, or is there some other problem that needs to be addressed?”

Emily tried her best to give a straight answer, yet found it difficult as her feet had just fallen asleep.

“Uhh…….it was alright; I mean good! It was good Tommy. No problems at all.”

To hide her unsure response, Emily had resorted to glaring down at the environment she found herself in. It was the same room as in the video they just watched, and all that had been seen in there had remained untouched and undisturbed. The dirt-sand carpeting under the soles of her feet, the red-leather couch that groaned as both she and Tommy sat on it, the cardboard box marked “TOYS” resting at her sides (which seemed to burn her too), and the dead contortionist girl, frozen in an “O” formation with her head facing the opposite way a head should.

When they first entered that room, the sight had startled her immensely. She wondered whether the girl had been posing this entire time, and was about to greet her when Tommy told her the truth that she was a corpse; an examination of the body, particularly the neck, was clear that he was right. The eyes, half-opened and whose face was in a sculpture of ecstasy, made Emily wonder if she had enjoyed dying.

Also a strange rumbling noise was coming from her pelvis area, but before she could even question it, Tommy had plopped himself on the squeaking sofa, beckoning her to join him.

Funny; she could remember what happened nearly half an hour from now, but not less than five minutes ago.

Tommy had grown too concerned by now, and was up to the point where he had to look his girl directly into her eyes, and gently ask her,
“If something is wrong, if anything at all, can you please tell me?”

Now Emily had no choice; she had to explain everything to him right now, or who knows if there would be any going back.

“I…….. (sigh) I haven’t felt good since I woke up this evening. It must be unhealthy for a gal like me to sleep for so long. But regardless of how I feel right now, I’m well enough to help you with this video. Please, just let me help you.”

The two stared at each other for what seemed to be a minute or two, but despite the nervousness and stress she was under right now, it was (surprisingly enough) Tommy who broke gaze first, and with a sigh from his lips, he whispered “Okay” to her; a light kiss upon her forehead completed the conversation, but if only her brow wasn’t so sweaty.

The silence, which lasted another minute, was swiftly broken by Tommy as he said,
“Well, onto the next vid.”

And with that, the next sequence of footage began.

They had come into the room so Tommy could show her all that he had accomplished so far, and afterwards plan on what to do with the remaining girls. For half an hour they watched four separate videos of four separate gals getting killed in both the most subtle and over the top ways imaginable, from hanging until death to being dismembered and impaled alive, all of the deaths were grisly yet excitable to watch; Emily felt she was going to reach a climax when she saw Rosa being decapitated.

Unlike the others they had watched before, this video seemed, at first, quite simple.

In a room much like the one they were in now, Tommy was going to film Gabby, as the girl was named in the info file, doing a little dance; and that was it. The girl wasn’t even a good dancer, with her short yet intriguingly athletic frame moving about in a poor assortment of sways and motions; whoever was in charge of their programming at GG Corp., apparently had no desire to include ‘good dancing’ in the mix.

A Hispanic-American based model, the young woman was apparently designed after what the ‘popular crowd’ of young-adults in America were supposed to look like almost half a century ago, with her thick lashes and pink lip-gloss lips adding to the cheapness. With her long mess of red-brown hair flowing along with her loose spaghetti-top and multi-coloured skirt, the entire getup seemed like something out of an ancient music video; heck, her calf-high boots were the main reason why dancing was so hard for her in the first place.

Even as he watched this sad, sad display of body language in-front of him, it wasn’t the main thing Tommy had planned for this video. You see, if this was supposed to be the pinnacle parody of bad yet popular dancing idols, than it needed only one more thing to make it even more so: being filmed under the influence.

Tommy had planned on using one of the Specialty drugs on his little ‘dancer’ (and I do mean ‘little’ cause she was barely over 5 feet tall) to examine how she would function, but both the sight and his imagination were making him question as to which of the five he was to use.

The Nerve Duller (a fluid green in hue) wouldn’t offer much of a spectacle when the recipient is dancing; and the Nerve-Spiker would probably end up the same way.

He had seen what the red bottle could do to Shauna, and although the thought of watching this sad, little thing freeze in mid-motion no longer seemed to intrigue him. Now the pink drug would turn her into a limp noodle within a minute, and although the imagery of Gabby dancing until she ‘dropped’ would be quite entertaining, it also seemed too easy.

And of course, unless he had any desires to watch the undead thing dance until the ‘aqua life’ wore off, he wouldn’t be reusing the Reanimator anytime soon; besides, he didn’t bring a singe weapon into the room with him so he could force himself to be creative.

Each chemical had its’ pros and cons, yet it was still of debate on which of the five he’d use, and this dreadful music wasn’t helping him come any closer to a conclusion. It simply amazed him that anybody, even a simplistically constructed sub-synth such as this “ideal representation of dance stars long-gone”, could dance to such dreadful and repetitive noise!

Which one would he use? WHICH ONE WOULD HE U………….
“Wait; which ‘one’? Why not all of them?!”

Yeah, why not all of them?

He had gotten the chance to see every single one of the spec-drugs’ specific affects, yet the question now came to him on what would happen if all of the chemicals were used at once. As Tommy explained this to her while they watched, the sudden thought occurred to Emily that, she too, wondered what would happen to ‘said’ person.

Well, as Tommy shuffled himself over to the still dancing Gabby (who was ordered not to stop regardless of what was going on), he adjusted his grip on the camera to get a better hold of the contents of his jean pocket, and managing to hold all five bottles in one hand, he stabbed every needle into her shoulder in a single swat. A bottle or two dropped to the floor, but managed to roll away from the scene undamaged.

Now, as the Hispanic-girl continued her “dancing”, it was finally time to see what a spec-drug overload looked like; and what followed next, terrified Emily in a way she hadn’t felt in a very, very long time.

It should be interesting to note, that despite all the genetics, organics and ‘blood’ related compounds and techniques involved in the creation process, the sub-synthetic organism is very much like a machine, with the brain behaving very much like a main processor. And, like other machines, when an error or in more severe cases, a malfunction is occurred, the sub-synth reacts very much like a common computer would, if said computer had an entire body-structure to ‘illustrate’ what such events would look like.

Emily, who was ‘built-in’ with a basis collection on how her own kind function, had made the vague connection between sub-synth and machine along time ago, when she watched a porn video involving android girls of the underage type. A loli-bot was on the verge of ‘cumming’, when a faulty wire in her body snapped, sending the 9 year-old android into a complete blitz before she just fell to pieces. Emily liked the film, mostly for the part where the little girls’ head fell off and tried to continue functioning until it just gave up and powered down(a scene that has made her cum ever since), and would watch it just for that scene every chance she’d get alone, without a shadow of guilt or a scent of fear.

Yet a sub-synth observing a full-on synthetic falling apart is completely different than watching it happen to one of their own kind, especially when they had a high degree of sentience. To Emily, this wasn’t like her watching “Loli-bots Lose it” all over again; even though she didn’t know this ‘Gabby’ on screen now, it still seemed like she was watching an old friend die in a horrific and unimaginably painful way all over again.

The truth was, she already had.