Killin' Time

The man stirred from his slumber, wrinkling his nose at the dark hair in his face. A lithe, supple body was nestled against his own lanky form dressed in warm clothes to keep warm in the cold, dank underground cavern the organization staged its headquarters. The man's arm was thrown casually over the woman's hip but wasn't meant in a suggestive manner. He reached up to brush the dark brown hair from his face, reflecting that her natural blonde hair color suited her much better. She was young and attractive, hell she was gorgeous, and he was a grizzled pale thing. Here he was all snuggled up with this bundle of hidden talent and sexiness and he only regarded her as a favored little sister. She finally stirred and woke up yawning, saying, "Is it today or tomorrow, Otis?"

"Hah, it's tomorrow, Angel. We got work to do, remember. Gotta impress these fuckers."

Stretching, she sits up, wondering if this sleeping in the tunnels crap was part of the initiation, to see if they'd go through with it. She thinks back to a few days ago when this strange guy calling himself the 'Professor' approached them, seemingly knowing quite a bit about them. He told them he represented an organization who could use their talents and natural tendencies--and pay them quite nicely. Otis was all for it, tired of living precariously off what he could steal. They both get to their feet, loosening up stiffened joints from the crappy environment. "So how we gonna do it?," Angel Baby asks.
"We could do the good ol' lure em in and gut em," suggests the pasty creature in man's clothing. "You're just so good at hookin those retards."
She giggles, fishing through her knapsack for a brush to tame her mane of dyed-dark hair. Soon enough the tattooed weirdo calling himself the Professor came to see them. "You have to bring the body back here so we can have our ritual and accept you," he reminded them, sporting his satanic garb and shaven head. "Good luck. We'll be waiting for you."


At a truck stop in the middle of nowhere, Alabama, Angel Baby loitered on the sidewalk. Chomping gum and hip thrust out, she was clad in a mini skirt and tiny t-shirt that had been cropped till it barely covered the bottom of her breasts. She managed all at once to look bored, seductive and innocent. After a while a gullible trucker approached her, beaming a tobacco-stained smile at her hopefully. They negotiated a price for her...shall we say, services, and she suggested they retire to her hotel room to get down to business. He was a tall drink of water wearing a stained cap and blue work shirt and he immediately ushered her into his 18-wheeler's cab. Baby and her woven purse bounced up into the passenger side, grinning cherubicly at him. "It's just down the road, here. Turn off at the next right," she told him.

"Shure thing, hotcakes," he acquiesced. Man oh man, she was a hot one! A scant few miles later he pulled into a cheaptastic hotel parking lot, it's neon sign only half lit. It didn't matter to him as long as he didn't have to spend a night alone and masturbate once again.

"You're not married, are you?," Baby asks him coyly as they locate her room. She'd noticed him being fidgety and acting nervous.

"Uh, no...it's just that I ain't never done this before," he answered bashfully.

She jiggled the key in the rusty door lock and opened the creaky door, saying "Ah, I'll take good care of ya, mister." Taking his hand she leads him inside and flicks on the light. He wasn't expecting much from the room, and it didn't disappoint. The ratty carpet was burnt and stained and the musty bed didn't appear much better but he followed the dark-haired, blue-green-eyed girl willingly. She stepped out of her boots and sat on the bed. "Well, come on. I don't bite, silly," she giggles. He pulls off his shirt and sits beside her, watching as she removes her t-shirt in one smooth move. Bare from the waist up she leans against him, kissing him. Tentatively he kisses her back, feeling her pert breasts pressing against his chest.

It was a few moments before the trucker actually registered that a ghostlike figure came rushing out of the restroom screaming with hatchet in hand. With surprising agility Baby twists and leaps backwards out of the way while Otis buries the hatchet in the back of the man's head. Crimson shoots out of the terrible wound, drenching the bed and Otis's pants. Adrenaline from the awesome rush pumping through his system, the pale man stands there breathing deeply, eyes glittering with pleasure. The trucker jerks a few times then slumps forward and lays still. The girl pokes him to see if he responds. Nothing; he was dead, Otis did his job well. Baby cleans his pockets and takes his ID, Otis washes the blood off his weapon and hands. They were quite an efficient team. They put the cap back on the guy's head and clean him up--audaciously they both decided to 'help' him to their car as if he were unconscious in broad daylight. "Uh, Angel, ya might wanna put yer shirt back on," Otis tells her. "Not that I don't mind ya bein half-nekkid or anything."

Baby laughs, picking the discarded article of clothing up. "Otis, you dawg."


The trio rode merrily down the highway in their stolen Cadillac...well, the two live ones, at least. The corpse was seated between the murdering pair as they travelled. "La la la-la laaaa," singsonged Baby, then threw the corpse's left arm across Otis' shoulders. He swerved the vehicle, swearing, then realized it was just his adopted sister fucking with him. They both laughed. Then the girl began lifting the dead man's right arm and waving it at people they passed. "Boy this guy's a real hoot," declared Otis as he nodded his head at the friendly passersby who were responding to the dead guy waving at them.

"Whew," went Angel Baby, tired of the heat. "I'm thirsty. Ain't we there yet?"

"Don't start that 'Are we there yet' shit again, girl," threatened Otis. "But I gotta piss soon so we'll stop at the next place."

The gas-guzzler pulled to a stop at a tiny little gas station. "Don't go anywhere," mocked Baby at the corpse as she exited the car. He was starting to smell pretty ripe in the blistering heat. "And Otis--we can't take any chances gettin' back to the Professor. No killin!"

Otis turned fake-hurt eyes to her, saying "Aww, you don't trust me?" and shoving a pistol down his pants. He was a bedraggled sight in his holey t-shirt and equally ripped-up bellbottoms, and his body was long and slender. He wasn't big and bulky but radiated a dangerous masculinity nonetheless as he strode inside the establishment to ask for use of the toilet. That Angel Baby, always looking out for him--she did have a practical side to her. Must take it after her mother, Eve. While he was attending nature's needs Baby purchased a six-pack of bottles of Coke, batting her pretty eyes at the clerk who fumbled with the cash register. When she lifted her arm to adjust her signature cowboy hat on her head he caught a glimpse of the bottom half of a well-formed breast and aureola. Then she grabbed the Coke and winked at him, turning and sashaying out the front door. The clerk almost ejaculated in his pants right then.

Her strange companion emerged from the restroom, his lank platinum hair falling to his waist. He winked at the clerk as he exited the gas station, giggling. The clerk stood blinking and bewildered.

"Ok, I didn't do anything," Otis tells Baby as they pull out of the parking lot onto the road. "But next time, I get to do ALL the killin."

"Awright, awright," agrees Baby. "As long as I get to fuck em first."


"Wellll," crooned the Professor, dark eyes taking in the inert body brought before him. "You did the deed?" The pair nodded their heads yes. "And the weapon you did it with?"

Otis brandished the hatchet and Baby pulled the cap from the trucker's head, showing the matching wound. "Good!" The Professor gestured to some of his people who took the body from Otis and Baby. "We'll have your induction ceremony tonight. You'll be shown to your quarters tonight...if you don't want separate chambers you may have--"

"Naw, that's fine," interjected Otis. He craved his privacy. "Baby's my little sister."

"Oh." The man blinked at them, thinking how on earth could those two be related? "See you tonight."

That night, the demonic pair discovered they must join the Satanic cult to finalize the group's trust in them and partake in their rituals. Sounded like fun! They were dressed in flowing robes and led down a long line of established members who inclined their heads at them in recognition. Many of the key leaders were standing at the front of this vast chamber underground, Soloman and the Professor and Quayle and Lisa, who all took turns giving rousing speeches. Then they gestured to a tripod with a roaring fire crackling in it, with something savory roasting over it. Turns out, it was the unlucky trucker. After drinking alcohol laced with some kind of hallucinogenic Otis and Angel Baby didn't really care what happened. They ate the man's cooked flesh with gusto with their new peers. It tasted like...pork.

Baby awoke late the next morning in her new domicile naked with an aching head and a muscular arm laying across her. It was the vampiric-looking Soloman in bed with her...wow, she must've had a good time. She was drained, contented and sore between her legs...She stretched and slid out of bed, padding to her knapsack to find some clothes to put on.

"Yer quite a tiger, m'dear," he said, grey eyes opening and focusing on her. Unlike the Professor's vague accent he had an Alabama drawl with drew her in. Must be why she fucked her brains out last night. Watching her dress, he commented, "I can't stop watching you, honeypie, but the Professor has a job for you and the pale man already. Go see him soon as ya can."

Otis had a languid, satisfied look to him for once when she met up with him and she scented another woman on him. So he had a blast last night as well, that would explain his usual intensity being subdued. Lisa humped him every which way but loose last night, thinking about it put a lazy smile on his face. The dark-haired, elfin woman was still in his room when he left to find Baby and the Professor.

Their first assignment was tracking down a traitor to Satan's Minions and bringing his head back to them for verification. They would be well compensated for the act. "Well, Baby," spoke Otis as they prepared to leave. "Looks like the adventure you wanted!" She'd followed him because she had never been outside of Ruggsville all of her young life and wanted to see the country and do new things. She was beaming her exceptional smile as they struck out.