Peachy Keen Films – The Good Murders
Categories: Death Fetish, Necro, Brutal Amazons, Fantasy Snuff, Petra
Description: The Story
Steve and Chris are bummed on life and decide they hate women. They are determined to murder as many as they can. They are new at this, so they must start simple and work their way up.
The Whores
When Steve emerged it was time. They were a little unsure, but more or less knew what they had to do. Chris knew where he wanted to do it and laid a blanket out in the game room. They both brought her in. Her blindfold had fallen off, but she was still gagged and cuffed. She was shaken, disoriented. She expected they would put her back in the car and leave her off somewhere. She would report it to the police, they would do nothing, business as usual.
They set her down on the blanket and Chris asked Steve if he had the cord. She knew this was different at that moment. From the feeling of hurt, betrayal, sadness, and self-pity, now became fear — absolute fear that she was about to die and every single muscle in her body responded to this threat. She nearly got free; instantly she was a squirming squealing insect. Her body shivered and withered. Steve was desperately trying to get the cord around her neck, but she kept trying to avoid it and them and any sort of touch at all. Chris got her legs and clamped down on them, but her torso kept bucking and twisting. Then the cloth came out of her mouth and the yelling began. Chris cringed, wondering if the neighbors would hear. He encouraged Steve to hurry and he was doing his best. Finally — finally! — he got the garrote around, but there was yet to be pressure. This was hard, harder then it looked in the movies. He kept pulling back and she kept going with him — it would not get tight. She was still able to breathe.
Then, she went forward and he backward and the airflow stopped. The sound was shocking to Chris — he had never heard it before. Neither had Steve and to him it was beautiful, the gagging music to his deranged ears.
She bucked and spasmed. Chris held her legs, Steve kept the garrote tight around her neck. Her face was almost against the floor, her tongue and globs of drool hitting the dirty, filthy carpet. She spasmed some more, lashed out her tongue, eyes wide with fear.
After several minutes, once she finally slowed down and eventually stopped, Steve let go. Chris let go. It was done. They were exhausted. In the struggle she had moved off the blanket. Now, they picked her up and laid her back on it. They talked about disposal. She woke up. She was just unconscious.
Shit.
Chris told Steve to do better, to be sure this time. Steve got the garrote around her neck again. Luckily she was weakened, not as crazy. He was able to put his sandal on the rope, pinching one end to the ground. Now, he could take the other end with both hands and pull more confidently. She struggled for a while, then finally slowed down, but this time she lay for the longest time, barely aware, eyes open and tongue out. She looked at Steve and Steve looked at her. She faded and was gone.
While Chris went to prepare, Steve sat and stared at her, looking closely at her wound on her neck. Looking closely at all of her, like she was a specimen he found. She was his first — she was their first.
But, she would not be their last.
Earlier they had learned that the other girl was a close friend and were now determined to eliminate her as a witness. They found her in the same spot. After getting her in the car, she turned and saw her friend, dead in the back. She freaked out and Steve punched her hard, knocking her out.
When they got to the house, they carried her unconscious form to the bedroom. This time it was streamlined. They had done this before, not two hours earlier. They stripped her off, she woke up and was raging to leave. Steve ran out of the room to get the cord, while Chris punched her several timed to calm her down. They got the cord around her and Steve tried a two-handed strangle again. This time he was determined to make it work. She struggled and spasmed. Chris tried to help, but Steve just got more and more intense and made him watch, but not touch. He was… different than the person he knew from the bar. He had changed after that first kill.
Steve worked on her for a while… her body not ready to give up. Her eyes were wide, tongue out, drool and sweat all over her.
When it was over, her last glint of life was a single tear streaming out of her eye. Chris noticed a single tear coming out of Steve’s eye at the same time. There was no explaining this transition. Steve was a killer, and Chris knew after this day, he would be too. Together, they would find their prey and kill them. And, not just whores. All kinds of women, from strippers to church girls. In fact, he remembered a cute college student he saw the other day in the park. Maybe he would have Steve watch her for a few days, see what her pattern was. Maybe they could get themselves a cute little coed next…
The Dancer
They picked her up at a strip club. It was a fluke. They were always looking, but everything had to be planned. They had a system, a script that they worked from. Now it was 6am on a bright sunny morning and they were driving a young woman home. She had fought with her boyfriend that night because she did not want to go home when he did. Chris and Steve were there. Chris, used his manipulation skills to act as her rescuer. In the van, Steve sat quietly in the back — waiting. Chris convinced her that they needed to stop at their place, and further convinced her to come inside.
Once inside, Steve bashed her in the back of the head and she went down hard. They brought her too a room in the house and made quick work of stripping and cuffing her. She woke up, instantly yelling and struggling, but Steve was quick to get the rope around her neck — the same rope they had used on the whores.
She lurched and struggled, but her fight was quickly waning. She was covered in sweat and half gone with lack of oxygen. Her hands were batting around at anything and nothing. Her eyes wide and mouth fishing for air. She slowed and slowed and finally was still.
Steve was amazed at how easy it was to get this girl. He was almost invigorated by this, as if a new Steve were starting to emerge. He was ready for the next girl… a girl Chris had been stalking for the last several days. He would go to the park in a few more days to see her with Chris. But now, a task was at hand. They tossed her clothes on her body and each grabbed an end and they carried her out for later disposal.
The Student
The door burst open and they brought her into a small room–forcing her down on her knees. Her gag was gone and she was begging for her life as her whole body shook in fear. Chris asked if he can do this one and Steve let him. She started to panic even more as Chris is handed the infamous garrote that has been used for all the killings. Chris fumbles with it, then gets it around her neck and pulls. His grip is wrong, he does not know what he he doing. Kala’s air is cut off, then back again and she gasps and freaks out at the same time. Steve tries to help Chris and, while they are momentarily distracted, Kala starts to crawl away. It’s a pathetic attempt; nothing, really. Steve grabs her around the waist and sets her back in her spot on the plastic like disciplining a child. He then shows Chris how it is done and gets the cord around the weeping girl’s neck and pulls. Many kills later, and Steve is a pro. He had the garrote wrapped twice, tight against her skin–Kala has no air. Her legs are trapped underneath her in an upright position. Her face strains and her body shudders as she tries to fight.
Covered with sweat, hair matted against her forehead — she is no longer the pretty collage girl, but a dying, sticky, mess. Her body betrays her with shudders and spasms. Her mouth fills up with foaming drool with oozes out in a long stream from her chin to the floor. Steve lays her back down, letting her legs free to weakly kick and buck, but she slowly fades out.
After observing thier new victim for a moment, they wrap her up in the plastic she was on, leaving her covered in sweat.
The Faithful
At the table, Steve and Lexxi brainstormed ideas while slowly in the background, Chris approached. When he was close enough, he placed the chloroform-soaked rag over her mouth and nose. She struggled a bit, then was out. They each grabbed a part of her and lifted her up and out of the room.
When Chris cut of her air as her body instantly and intensely bucked and gyrated against him. Her legs went crazy, but they were tied up so she could do little but struggle and try to take a breath — a chance she was not given. He strangled her hard for a few long minutes, but he began to get tired. Steve cannot believe this and yells at him to get out of the way. He unties one of her hands and Chris looses his grip on the garrote as he struggles to get out and let Steve in. Lexxi gasps for air and swings her arm, trying anything she can to live. Steve quickly gets into position and Chris grabs the rope on her wrist and reties it. Within moments, Steve is pulling on the rope hard and it digs into her flesh — the marks from he previous strangle session now clearly visible.
Lexxi struggles hard initially, but, already weakened form being strangled by Chris, she slows considerably, finally she is dead. Steve roughly unties her and shoves her to the side.
The Neighbor
Months later, they have killed whores, strippers, college girls and church girls and many others in-between, always looking for more. Today, one would be delivered right to them, except this one was different then any they had killed in the past. This one they knew.
Finally, it was time. Chris had been having trouble strangling. The last time with the church girl, he physically was worn out and had to switch with Steve. So, to this day, he has never actually killed anyone. Today would be different. The cord was wrapped around her neck and they each took an end and pulled — thus sharing the kill.
She fought and struggled hard, but there was not much she could to. Her hands were cuffed, she swung her legs wildly, but the two men just kept pulling tight, smiling down on her demise. Her face was beat red, her eyes wide and mouth open with tongue out. She struggled for a long, long time, but eventually she weakened. Once she was dead, staring at them — the men who murdered her — they looked back at Mrs Jones with love and lust and want and a delirious euphoria.
They wrapped her up in the blanket they killed so many on — no longer will they be using it. Later, they sat, looking at a map of the world, for now, it was their oyster…
