Part Three

“While Cynthia’s been learning what the real point of Babehunt is – pun intended – let’s go and take a look at our next area, where it’s been a fairly uneventful early stretch. The plane’s dropped off our second set of five babes in the Carnival arena, where they’ll have to search the ruined attractions for a golden pylon while avoiding the attentions of Saul DeLasse. How’re they doing, I wonder?”

The first woman zoomed in on is about thirty years old, slim and attractive but without much muscle, a red-haired white woman with freckles across her face and dotting down her neck, wearing a simple yellow dress that her D-cup breasts fill out completely, which she keeps trying to pull down over her ample hips. “This is Amy, hailing from old Dublin town. Amy’s a mother of two, her husband was a dock worker who died last year, and she can’t make ends meet. Her family’s ten thousand dollars in debt, and this was the only way to keep her kids out of the workhouses Ireland just set up to deal with this sort of thing.”

As Amy creeps through the amusement park, avoiding the large immobile Ferris wheel that towers above her, the camera pans past it to another woman slipping past the midway. She is Chinese, not more than twenty years old, wearing a red bikini over pert, round breasts, with her black hair cut extremely short and old bruises on her arms and legs. “Ling is joining us courtesy of the People’s Republic, who caught her trying to protest against a government official and gave her a choice between this and a messy execution. If she can survive, she’ll keep half the money and merely be exiled. If she dies, the money is divided between the government and her family.” Ling, not watching the cameras, slips into the funhouse and vanishes from the cameras, which cross the arena to where another, shorter woman is inspecting the underside of the roller coaster.

“Sierra joins us from Guatemala, having survived most of her life under the new regime. With refugee claims way down, this game was her only hope to get enough money to pay her way into the United States. She’s got no one to send the money to, since her family was killed a few months ago, so if she dies it’ll go to another refugee she met briefly.” Sierra is twenty-three, with olive skin, black hair done in two long pigtails that fall across her shoulders, and haunted eyes. She has small B-cup breasts, which are easily held by her green bikini, and is glancing around her with long practice as she darts from shadow to shadow.

“Next up, let’s take a look at Vera, who comes to the island all the way from Moscow.” The camera cuts across to the other end of the midway, where a tall, fit, athletic Russian woman with dark hair is walking cautiously down the way, holding a piece of broken metal in one hand. Her breasts are small but muscular, and her body gleams with sweat around her black bikini. “Vera’s boyfriend played in our Manhunt VI last year, and did not do very well. The girl is broken-hearted, and has joined the game so that she can either die with him in spirit or finally let him go.”

“Finally, there is Jasmine, joining us from Florida.” Jasmine is a short, thin white woman, with extremely short brown hair – almost fuzz around her scalp – and average-sized breasts, wearing a short blue dress. “Jasmine learned last year that she has cancer. This year, she learned that it was terminal, and she expects to be dead within three months. Rather than a three-month, slow death that’ll devastate her family, she’s decided to try and get back some of the money they spent trying to save her. Isn’t that noble? Let’s hope she manages.” Jasmine crosses to the Freak tents, creeping over to look inside. She recoils almost immediately, then grits her teeth and passes inside. The camera cuts, showing that the tent is filled with dead women or parts of women, hanging from the ceiling or floating in jars of formaldehyde. Jasmine crosses past a woman who was hung by her ankles and skinned, as she tries to reach the far door.

A painful scream freezes her in her tracks. Crossing to the door, she peers out into a mostly-sealed courtyard, and the camera shifts to show what she’s noticed. The courtyard is blocked off except for four entrances from tents and buildings, and it holds what Jasmine was hoping for – a golden pylon, six feet tall, glittering in the sunlight. However, it also holds something much more dangerous. Ten feet from the pylon, on the opposite side of the courtyard, Amy has been thrown to the ground, her dress lying in shreds around her feet, revealing that her freckles dot her body all the way down to her firm ass. It’s hard to tell, however, because that ass is currently being pounded by Saul DeLasse, his pants down just enough to keep his dick free, holding Amy’s hair in one hand as he forces her face into the dirt, fucking her with wild abandon. Amy is screaming and bucking, totally pinned under the hunter’s weight. As Jasmine watches in terror, Amy screams again, as Saul grunts explosively, cumming inside her and pulling out. He smirks, turning her onto her belly, and reaches for a knife.

“Please,” Amy whimpers from a bleeding mouth. “Just let me touch the pylon first. I’ll do anything you want to before you kill me, just let me save my children.”

Saul considers, and nods once. “Hold you to that.” He grunts, taking a step backwards. Amy shudders, manages to stand after two tries, and begins to totter towards the pylon, gaining strength with each step as she focuses on her goal. As she reaches out her hand to touch it, Saul’s arm shoots out abruptly, grabbing her hair and yanking her backwards to crash to the dirt. “Nope.” He grunts. “Try again.” Amy, tears streaking her face, stumbles back to her feet, and Saul immediately gives her hair another grab, sending her crashing to the ground. “Again.” He says with a bark of laughter.

Amy rises, starts to dash forwards as best she can. Saul reaches out… and a length of metal slams into the back of his head. Absorbed with his victim, he’s missed Jasmine sneaking up behind him. He stumbles, recovers, turns with a roar of rage in time to block the second blow on his forearm. “Help me!” Jasmine cries to Amy. “We can take him!”

Amy takes one look at Jasmine and Saul, taps the pylon with her free hand, and takes off like a rabbit, leaving her dress and sandals behind as she dashes naked into the freak tent. She collides with the skinned woman, crashing to the floor, and screams as she springs to her feet again and continues to run. Back in the courtyard, Jasmine tries to swing at Saul again, but she’s lost the element of surprise. He ducks under her blow, one hand darting to his waist and coming free with a stun gun, and jabs it into Jasmine’s stomach, causing her to collapse with a scream. Effortlessly, he lifts the woman over his shoulder. “Shouldn’t mess with a man’s kill. Gonna do you good for that.” He whispers to her, jabbing her with the stun gun again and holding it there until she passes out.

“Oouch. Looks like Jasmine’s about to learn an important lesson – we’re not all friends here at Babehunt. Should have gone for the pylon while he was distracted, Jasmine.”

The camera cuts to the midway, where Saul has finished his preparations. Jasmine, now awake again, is tied to the weight-hammer game, with ropes holding her neck and chest against the splintered wood, her hands pinned behind the post and nailed firmly in place. Her dress has been torn apart and strips have been used to gag her, rendering her cries into meaningless gibberish. The bar has been pulled free, and now leads from the ground to the inside of her vagina, which is stretched painfully around the empty tube. Jasmine’s legs have been left free, and they kick helplessly as she struggles. Saul walks up to her, reaching up to pat her on the ass, and smiles evilly. “We’re going to play a game, girlie.” He says maliciously. “Call it – “Is anyone as shit-fucking dumb as you are.” With another smile, he pulls a pulley system over, scavenged from a ride. The hammer from the game is attached to it. “When I turn this on, the hammer’ll pound down every fifteen seconds. Every time it does, it’ll shoot that little metal ball up your cunt so hard you’ll want to die. I’m gonna go get a good vantage point to watch you die slow, and see if anyone comes to put you out of your misery before the blood loss does it for them. I’m guessing not.” He pinches her ass, then presses the button to start the machine. The gears turn, the hammer falls, and the ball shoots up and rams into Jasmine’s cunt. She shrieks loudly enough to carry across the arena, thrashing impotently, and as the ball falls back down, it does it stained red.

The other girls hear Jasmine’s screams. Amy doesn’t even look back – she just keeps running, heading towards the tidal pools. Sierra has lived a long time by not listening to other people suffer, and she just keeps looking.

Vera, however, isn’t quite so smart. She comes close enough to see what happened to Jasmine, then gets afraid as she sees the ground she would have to cover. Crouching on the top of a midway game, Saul watches her slip away, and slips after her, his footsteps covered by Jasmine’s gut-wrenching cries as, with every blow, her insides are increasingly torn apart.

Finally, it happens. The ball punches so far into Jasmine’s body that it doesn’t come down. Whimpering, mad with pain, Jasmine can barely tell… and it turns out that even this isn’t stopping her suffering. Now, when the hammer slams down, it is air pressure that pushes into her, tearing at her wounds, causing blood to run down the tube and pool at the bottom. Her own blood is thrown back into her wounds, circling in some horrible parody of circulation. The camera time-elapses over the next two hours, as blood slowly clogs the tube, Jasmine’s cries slowly turn to moans, and then to whimpers, until she loses consciousness and drifts into death.