A Brutal Slasher Story - Please Add On To This
Your time is limited, you don't want to waste a single second of it. So with a fervent energy, you quicken your wriggling to scoot your hips past the final metal strap. It's works well, at first, forcing it up and past to freedom. Why, soon enough you just might be free to wriggle those hips and butt of yours just because you want to.
Or not.
In your effort to get out as quickly as possible, you fail to make any effort to control your fall off the table, hitting your head against the ground. And it hurts.
It also disorients you, falling head first like that, leaving you half unconscious as you lay on the ground in a bound and gagged heap. You hardly notice when the lumberjack returns, or just about anything that happens up until he picks you up and begins to carry you somewhere. The next thing you know, you find yourself placed on a strange, uneven, cold surface.
You're still out of it, but your brain remains awake enough to recognize you've been put on a conveyor belt. That's enough to jolt you awake, mostly. Looking around in a panic, you see just where the conveyor belt leads - a large metal box with a bunch of buzzsaws inside.
You realize what this means just in time for the conveyor belt to start moving and the buzzsaws to start turning, and you begin to panic.
And the blades get closer.
You scream at the top of your lungs, but all that comes out is a highly muffled 'HMMMMMMMMPH!', a call for help that goes unheeded.
And the blades get closer.
You break into all out panic, any sense of calm leaving your body. You scream, you struggle, you try to pull at your bindings with everything you got, your body twisting in an uncoordinated mess of absolute helplessness as you try to find any weakness in your bindings that might allow you to break free.
But the blades get closer.
You look up, hoping that maybe you were wrong, that your ears and what you saw before were a lie. Your eyes go as wide as possible as you confirm the worst - the conveyor belt is continuing to carry you head first into the blades. You try to kick your legs, you try to twist your arms free, you move your body with ever bit of energy you have.
And the blades get closer.
For a moment, you give up all hope, the tears streaming down your face as you let out a muffled cry of anguished fear, a few weak kick coming from your legs in a hopeless effort to do...something.
But the blades get closer.
In your last few moments, you put up one last struggle, putting in every bit of energy you have to somehow saving yourself. But it's all for naught, an uncoordinated mess that does nothing, save for waste your energy and create the kind of imagery that men are known to have wet dreams about.
The good news?
Going in head first means your death is a quick and relatively painless one.
Or not.
In your effort to get out as quickly as possible, you fail to make any effort to control your fall off the table, hitting your head against the ground. And it hurts.
It also disorients you, falling head first like that, leaving you half unconscious as you lay on the ground in a bound and gagged heap. You hardly notice when the lumberjack returns, or just about anything that happens up until he picks you up and begins to carry you somewhere. The next thing you know, you find yourself placed on a strange, uneven, cold surface.
You're still out of it, but your brain remains awake enough to recognize you've been put on a conveyor belt. That's enough to jolt you awake, mostly. Looking around in a panic, you see just where the conveyor belt leads - a large metal box with a bunch of buzzsaws inside.
You realize what this means just in time for the conveyor belt to start moving and the buzzsaws to start turning, and you begin to panic.
And the blades get closer.
You scream at the top of your lungs, but all that comes out is a highly muffled 'HMMMMMMMMPH!', a call for help that goes unheeded.
And the blades get closer.
You break into all out panic, any sense of calm leaving your body. You scream, you struggle, you try to pull at your bindings with everything you got, your body twisting in an uncoordinated mess of absolute helplessness as you try to find any weakness in your bindings that might allow you to break free.
But the blades get closer.
You look up, hoping that maybe you were wrong, that your ears and what you saw before were a lie. Your eyes go as wide as possible as you confirm the worst - the conveyor belt is continuing to carry you head first into the blades. You try to kick your legs, you try to twist your arms free, you move your body with ever bit of energy you have.
And the blades get closer.
For a moment, you give up all hope, the tears streaming down your face as you let out a muffled cry of anguished fear, a few weak kick coming from your legs in a hopeless effort to do...something.
But the blades get closer.
In your last few moments, you put up one last struggle, putting in every bit of energy you have to somehow saving yourself. But it's all for naught, an uncoordinated mess that does nothing, save for waste your energy and create the kind of imagery that men are known to have wet dreams about.
The good news?
Going in head first means your death is a quick and relatively painless one.
