| Remix (mc, nc, MF, FD, MD, viol)
By Aerosol Kid <email@example.com> Visit me at
The people and events in this come from my brain, not the real
world. Regardless of what that tells you about my brain, it means that I'm
not writing about you, your mom, your friends, or your friend's friends.
So you can't sue me. Neener neener.
If you're under age in your territory (and you know what I mean), then
read something else.
Note: This is the third part of Grace's misadventure, co-starring Gina
(following "Ob-e-diens" and "Afterparty"). Thanks to those who prodded me
to keep it going. It might be helpful to read the "Play Day" series first,
if you haven't already. (c) 2001 Aerosol Kid
She smells like candy. That's what strikes Erik most as he stands in
Gina's bedroom, watching her sleep. He's right by her bed, getting off on
how vulnerable she is, on how much power he has over her at this instant.
Her bare arm is raised up over her head on the pillow, and she's breathing
deeply. It's been one week since he kidnapped this and her little
sister and took them to one of his houses a few miles away from here. In
this town, nothing's very far from anything else, so he's never been far
from either of them. The cops don't know who he is, and they don't believe
he'll try anything with the same victim twice, because up until now he
hasn't. So he's here right now in her house while her boyfriend's off
playing some show downtown.
He's getting ready, looking at her throat on the pillow, in the milky
moonlight. He has to be quick, but he's sure of himself. Silently, he
pulls the strange metal choker out of his pocket and bends it into a
straight line. It feels tight and alert in his fingers, like a powerful
snake poised to strike. He's careful to ready himself at a safe distance
over Gina, so she won't sense him if she's a light sleeper. The rush of
the moment is making his hands shake slightly, and he's trying to enjoy the
feeling as much as possible without fucking it up.
This is the last instant where he can put the thing back into his pocket
and leave, but he wants her too much to do that. Committing himself, Erik
brings the choker down lightly against Gina's throat. On this delicate
impact, it remembers its circular nature and snaps home around her neck, as
a soft guttural sound escapes her lips. Gina's eyes flutter open and this
is the best part. As she struggles to awareness and brings her fingers
down to touch the cold metal, before she knows she's not alone, the choker
begins to work. Her fingers stop before they reach her throat, and her
eyes freeze before they focus. This is the first time Erik has used
something like this and he's got a painful erection. Gina's a tiny
mannequin in a department store bedroom display. Frozen. He wants to whip
the blanket away and spread her legs apart, but the game won't be as fun
that way, so he savors the moment of her helplessness and keeps his hands
He doesn't know how, but he can tell that she knows he's there. He can
feel the fear that's squelched out in the static of the choker. He senses
her scrambled effort to fight it, as well as the powerful field that keeps
her from moving. Erik feels it's best to keep going, so he pulls the
Walkman out of his pocket and gently slips the headphones over her ears,
brushing stray strands of hair back. He feels that he might ejaculate just
from feeling her body heat, so he quickly sets the Walkman down on the bed
and presses Play. As the brittle copy of his voice leaks from the
headphones into the midnight quiet, he starts to pace the room. He knows
it'll be more fun this way, but he wants her now. He paces farther away
from the bed.
There's a beautiful, dusky voice: Gina slurs, "I understand," and her
head droops a little on the pillow.
It doesn't seem like ten minutes have gone by, but that's his cue. He
gathers up the headphones and the Walkman and slips the choker off of her
neck. Then he sneaks out the open window and shuts it behind him.
The sight of this house is making Grace sick. It's only been a week,
but she's getting stir crazy. The cops said that Erik wouldn't try to get
her again, and they wouldn't even send to watch her house, but freaked out and said she had to stay inside while she was at work, with the
doors locked. Now her is away on a business trip for a couple of
days, and she's not supposed to go anywhere except Gina's. Maybe is
over reacting, but Grace doesn't have a big problem going along with her,
because she's still jumpy. The other night she screamed when snuck up
on her by accident. So her incarceration in the house is a mixed bag - she
feels safe and doesn't have to get a summer job yet, but she's a bored
teenager in desperate need of stimulation. And it's not even noon yet.
She's watching Dune on the Sci-Fi Network and she wishes she had some
pot. That's the only way this fucking makes sense to her. She's
trying to figure out the deal with the hand gestures employed by the with the eyebrows and bushy hair when someone knocks on the door.
It's not the first time someone has come by the house during the day since
her abduction, but she still feels a bitter electric spike of panic. She's
glad she's not high after all.
The with the pizza is distorted in the front door peephole. Grace
can't really tell who it is, but she seems cool enough - she's got her
uniform on and her car's idling in the driveway. Plus she's not a guy, so
it can't be Erik. Before she opens the door she makes sure the chain's on.
"Hey," she says through the six inch gap the chain will allow. A blast
of hot June air heats her face. The pizza looks at her, and from
experience Grace knows she's tripping on how pretty she is. She seems kind
of to be delivering pizzas.
"Gotta delivery for ya?" Her Southern accent is thick. It makes Grace
"Nope." She shakes her head, whacking her pigtails against the door and
frame a little. "Sorry, I think you've got the wrong house."
"This Eighty-four Sweetbriar?" The question is rhetorical, slightly
"Yeah, but I didn't order a pizza." Grace wants to go back inside to the
television. A trickle of sweat runs down her neck.
"You're sure." The pizza is not convinced.
"Yes," Grace replies quickly, starting to get irked.
The driver looks around the neighborhood for a moment. Grace thinks
she's checking addresses on mailboxes. Then she sighs. "Look, it's too
hot for me to figure out who fucked up back at the shop. Why don't you
just take this one on the house and I'll say I was late with it?"
Grace perks up a little. "Really?"
The delivery nods, shifting her weight a little. She looks over
her shoulder again.
Grace takes the chain off the door and the heat really comes in now.
She steps back to let the driver into the foyer. As she reaches for the
pizza, the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She frowns and takes
the hot cardboard box out of the other girl's hands, but she's got
something else under that: a little carton. The weirdest thing is that
she's wearing gloves. The delivery lifts up the little box to show
Grace and her thoughts smack against a wall. She has a hot flash and sees
green and explosions. Her skin is prickly and she can't unstick her
brain. She hears a "plop" and feels something wet on her leg. She's
dropped the pizza and the sauce is all over the place. She looks down
stupidly to take it all in, which is a big mistake, because the floor
rushes up to meet her like a freight train.
"Sugar, you're going to have to get up and come with me." The voice is
in the air, over Grace's head. She's lying on the living room carpet on
her back. She has no idea how long she's been passed out, but it doesn't
seem like much time has passed - the front door is still wide open. She
can tell because of the damn heat, and she can hear the air conditioner
straining to cool the house. "Shug. Get up for Faye. We have to go." The
voice is kind but insistent. Grace feels like she could never disappoint
it, and the voice is a little bit sad that she won't get up off the floor
where she's laying like a moron, covered in pizza sauce. She strains to
sit up and feels thin, strong hands help her along. "That's good." Grace
is relieved that she's doing better and making the voice happy, so she gets
ambitious and bends her knees, then struggles to her feet. The inside of
her head is still hot and it's hard to control her limbs. But then she's
standing up and looking at the pretty lady who came to see her. The lady
is looking out the front door again, and Grace realizes now that she has
been making sure no one was watching. She knows that this lady has just
done something to her and is taking her away, but those thoughts are
speeding away, and the time it takes for her to catch up with them is
longer than the time it takes for her to follow the pizza out to the
Somebody's smoking a cigarette, and the smell makes Grace want to throw
up. The nausea rouses her quickly and she raises her head. She's kneeling
on some plastic on the floor. Her feet are bound together and they're
asleep. She's chained to something that's holding her up. Her hands are
tied, hanging painfully over her head and she's naked. Embarrassment
clumsily flushes her cheeks as she labors to pick out her surroundings.
She's hears a confused groan escape her lips as she sees the sheets hanging
around her - they don't want her to see where she is. There are lamps
behind the sheets so she can't make out any details beyond her little white
"What's next?" the pizza - Faye - says from somewhere. A cloud of
smoke wafts around Grace.
"We break her down. Together." It's Erik, somewhere in the room with
her. Grace tries to inhale, but sobs instead. Her head is pounding and
she can tell she's coming down from a powerful high. Her shoulder is sore,
and from experience she knows it's from a needle.
Faye laughs softly. "Your usual games aren't doing it for you anymore?"
"We have better toys now," Erik says, rising to the bait. "And cuter
girls to play with. With what we can do now, they won't even want to get
Faye's tenor changes. "You're lucky I understand you. Or at least put
up with you. If I hadn't been able to find that Anodyne shit through
Marley, if I hadn't been there to help you, you'd still be fishing at
raves." She stops to take a drag.
"I know how good you are to me, babe." Erik is trying to smooth her
over. Grace can tell he's afraid of her. "You think of groovy things to
spend my money on, and you brought me that little princess. Soon we'll
have the complete set. I've already seen to that."
Faye snorts. "Just so long as you don't fill the house with bimbos, and as long as you know what time it is." There's a threat in that
statement that makes Grace shiver involuntarily, rattling her chains.
Erik changes the subject. "She's awake. Let's start." There's
rustling: plastic and sheets. Erik steps behind Grace and starts to touch
her. Grace's head is swimming and she remembers sex on this floor. "I'm
going to finish what I started with you," Erik tells her, stroking her
Grace can already feel a crude training in place, in her body. Erik's
proximity has melted her fear, and she's swaying in the chains with base
arousal. But she can still mumble through the fog of hormones. "You. You
gotta let me go..."
Erik sticks his finger in her mouth and she starts to suck it
immediately. "See, that's the first thing we need to take care of. You
want to leave, but I want you to be my house slut."
Faye steps in front of her and Grace shivers in her shadow. She grunts
a little around Erik's finger. "Look at how much she likes that," Faye
observes, lifting Grace's chin to see better. "That's one horny little
suburban girl. Let's start this thing up." Grace hears a sound like a
camera flash charging as Erik starts to massage her shoulder blades. Then
she feels something like a bike helmet slip onto her head. Erik ties a
strap under her chin. "Ready?" Faye asks.
"Do it," Erik invites.
There's a strobe inside Grace's head that's a mile wide. There are two
alternating colors in her being - silver and dark blue - that flash by so
fast she feels herself slacken in her chains before her aching arms go
numb. The last thing she's aware of before losing her body completely is a
string of drool, from her lips to her thighs. The strobe gains forward
length to match its width, stretching out in front of her forever and she
plummets into it immediately. She's hurtling down a silver and blue tube,
striped with fractal patterns of infinite complexity. All she knows is
speed, interspersed with jarring flashes of the world outside:
\A clamp on her nipple\
\Her chains removed, she spills onto the floor\
\Plastic sticking to her sweaty back\
\Her sister's voice. Cumming\
\Faye with her head between her legs. Erik taking Polaroids\
\Lying on her stomach, something in her ass. Cumming\
(Falling falling falling falling)
Gina's place is really, really clean. She's been holed up here for a
week, obsessively cleaning, not venturing out at all except to stay with
Seth. His place is really clean, too.
She's humming to herself as she cleans her shower, naked except for the
sponge in her hand. When she's finished, she'll cruise over to Mom's and
keep her little company. Mom's out of town and Grace has requested
that she make a beer run. She's just now graduating from mixing together
everything in the liquor cabinet and watering the bottles down to cover her
tracks, and moving on to pestering people over twenty-one to buy Corona for
her. Gina wipes some sweat from her forehead. She could use a beer.
The phone is ringing, down the hall. Careful to avoid the flashing any
passers-by through the windows, she grabs the phone in the living room and
ducks back into the hallway. "Yup?"
"Baby." It's Seth.
"Baby yourself, loverman," she croons. "'Sup?"
"Are you getting your drunk tonight?"
"There's nothing better to do, and you know very well how entertaining
Grace is when she's tipsy."
"Oh, she's a laugh riot all right." Seth doesn't sound very sincere. "I
wish I could hang out with y'all, though." He definitely means that.
"Fucker. I wish I could come out to your show."
"Let's wait a little longer. I don't care what the cops say." Seth is
being protective. Gina's knees wobble a little. "I'll have my cell. Call
me for anything. I'll put down my guitar and leave in the middle of the
set if I have to."
"And soon Lain will have a new guitar player, if you miss much more band
shit because of me," Gina teases. "Don't sweat me. I think I'll be fine."
"Gina, I mean it..."
"Go do your sound check, asshole. Kisses. Bye."
She looks at the phone for a second like she might kiss it. Then she
picks up her sponge and heads back to the bathroom, but the phone rings
again. She spins on her heel and answers it. "Don't make me you.
Go. I'll be fine."
"Pineapple upside down cake." It's not Seth. It's Erik. Gina drops the
sponge and leans against the wall.
"Yes?" she half whispers, looking at the ceiling.
"Sit down," the voice says. Gina crouches in the hallway.
"Finger yourself." Gina complies. She bites on her upper lip as she
"Are you good and wet?"
"Yes." She's still saying it like a question.
"Taste your fingers." Gina plunges them into her mouth, making greedy
sounds into the phone. "Now play with yourself some more." Her hand
lingers by her mouth, but she traces a wet line from her collarbone to her
clit and picks up where she left off. She makes some more noise.
"I want you to listen to something." There's some muffled noise, then
she can hear someone calling out in the background. It's Grace. And she's
cumming. Gina has never heard her do that before, but the sound is
unmistakable. "Hear that?" Erik asks.
"Yes!" Gina's hand speeds up.
Grace starts to whimper rhythmically. Someone is working her but good.
The phone is obviously right up in her face now, and Gina's back arches
away from the wall slightly. Reach out and touch someone, indeed.
Grace is close to getting off, and Gina is silently encouraging her,
timing her own motions to the incoherent moans crackling in her ear. Gina
is sure they're about to together, but Grace drops her rhythm, and Gina
loses track of her own groove. She grips the phone in frustration,
straining to hear Grace find her way again. She's frowning, strumming
herself slowly as she waits, but her little gets them both on track
again, and then there's a weird doubling effect, which is kind of
psychedelic. Gina realizes that she's keening along with Grace, and the
sound of her own voice is chorusing from the earpiece, so she's got this
double feedback loop going - her unknowingly egging her on, and her
own throaty encouragement. And this is too much, because she crests, and
she can't breathe until her shoulders stop quaking against the wall, and
the perspiration breaks through her pores as she melts to the floor, still
clutching the phone for dear life.
"Gina," Erik prompts.
"What are you doing tonight?"
"Going to see Grace."
"No you're not. You'll turn in early. You have a big day tomorrow."
"Five... four... three... two... one..." And he hangs up.
Gina blinks twice. She breathes deeply, then she stands up, puts the
phone back in the living room, and goes back to clean the shower, humming.
"No. No more..." Grace is moaning. Her ears are buzzing and whenever
she closes her eyes she sees vivid patterns that make her feel sick. She
doesn't understand the machine they've been using on her, but she knows in
her bones that they're not using the recommended setting. They're trying
to burn out her neurons.
Erik leans over her on the floor and absently reaches out to her nipple,
which makes her instantly. Again. He's been hovering over her ever
since she woke up, sticky, next to an empty can of whipped cream. He leans
in and licks her, from her belly button to her throat. Her thighs lock
together as the multiples fire off. "Stop..."
Erik smacks his lips, then kisses her on the mouth, causing her to
flinch against the climax. Inches from her face, he says, "I won't stop
until you want it over and over again, until you can never get enough.
You're still resisting." It sounds to Grace like he wants her to keep
resisting for a long time.
"I can't... stand it any more," Grace whines softly, rolling around a
little on the plastic.
Erik looks like he's hearing her for the first time. He takes her
pulse, which thankfully doesn't make her cum. He makes her drink some
water, then he stands up. "Get some sleep. I'll be back later."
Grace is so relieved by his absence that she drifts into sleep as soon
as she can't hear his footsteps anymore.
It's a really hot afternoon, and Gina is driving home from Seth's.
She's not really one for air conditioning, so she's got all the windows
down and she's blasting Crystal Method - some off the wall remix by DJ Tril
B. She thinks about swinging by Mom's to see if she's back from her trip,
but she'd want to change out of her negligible halter and bikini bottoms to
avoid a prudish lecture about "giving away the whole store", so she decides
to go by later. She adjusts her fly Kerropi sunglasses at a stoplight and
taps her toe on the floor to the music. Today's the first day that she
feels mellow after the abduction and she doesn't know why, exactly. Maybe
it has something to do with the three wild rounds of sex with Seth on his
kitchen floor today. Gina grins - her can't get enough of her.
Her cell phone rings, so she fishes it out of her handbag. The light
turns green and she steers with one hand while she pulls the antenna out
with her teeth. She notices the guy in the car next to her is checking her
out hardcore. He grins at her and nods, so she throws him a bone and
smiles coyly around the antenna in her teeth, then puts the phone up to her
ear. "Scully," she says. She'll never get tired of that one.
"Pudding in a cloud," a voice intones. Gina feels her smile fade as her
"Where?" she asks, paying rapt attention to the road.
"Destination number three." Click. Call's over.
Gina drops the phone into her lap and steps through the directions -
left on Fryberg, right onto Maxwell. As she rounds the corners the street
names are erased from the list of directions in her head. There could be a
giant monster chewing up the world behind her and she wouldn't know or
care, she has someplace to be. She hopes she looks hot enough.
Sometime later she pulls into a driveway. She knows she has to wait,
but doesn't remember what for until the garage door in front of her creeps
open automatically. She pulls in and turns off the ignition, then steps
out of the car. She's staring at the wall because she doesn't have
anything left to do on the list, and she doesn't remember anything after
getting out of the car.
"Go through the door on your right and come into the living room," a
voice says over an intercom speaker. It's the same voice as the one on the
phone, the one that's making her bikini bottoms sticky. She feels dizzy.
Gina tromps through the garage in her flip-flops and marches through the
door, through a hallway, and into a typical living room. Erik's here and
she's thrilled and nervous. She doesn't remember why she's nervous, and
she doesn't care because he's kissing her and grabbing her ass. She's
straining to meet his mouth because he's so much taller, so he scoops her
up into his arms and starts to carry her off somewhere. She starts to
giggle, but she sees a strange woman glaring at her across the room. She's
tall, thin and pretty in a strange, exotic way. Gina decides she hates
"So this is the big sister?" the woman says, with a cruel emphasis on
"Yes, this is the sister," Erik says. "The one that clocked me on the
head last week. Isn't she the hottest little thing?" He gives Gina a
"She looks like a skank. What's that outfit about?"
"Jealous, Daisy?" Gina inquires, getting a load of the girl's cutoff
shorts. The woman makes a lunge forward with clear intent to bust her in
the mouth, but Erik says, "Faye!"
Faye catches herself and stares Gina down. "Your was Erik's
project. But you get to be mine." She stares bullets at Erik. "Right
Gina gets apprehensive at the same time Erik does - she can feel it in
his body language. "Right," he says hesitantly, giving her an unreadable
"My sister?" Gina squeaks. She had forgotten all about Grace.
Faye looks very pleased with herself. She looks like she's just figured
out what makes Gina tick and she's going to take a screwdriver and
dismantle her, spring by spring. "Oh, I picked up your yesterday,
and we've gone to work on her already." She puts her hand to her mouth and
calls upstairs. "Grace? Come down and meet the company."
Gina feels a dark pit form in her stomach and starts to wish she could
remember how she got here. She gets very tense in Erik's arms and tries to
think of the name of the last street she turned down. If that comes to
mind, she hopes to God the previous one will shake lose, and so on. She's
thinking very hard about this because she's trying not to hear the soft
footsteps on the stairs. But Erik swivels around so she can see Grace at
the bottom of the stairs. She's wearing a lot of makeup. She's decked out
in a prep school uniform, with her tied over her belly like that
stupid fucking pop singer in that that makes Gina want to throw a
brick through her television. Grace's face is expressionless, infantile,
and it's getting closer because Erik is carrying Gina over to her.
They just look at each other stupidly, because Grace looks totally fried
and because Gina is being restrained by something in her head. Somehow,
Erik has already done this to her without her even knowing it. She can't
jump out of his arms and grab Grace and run for the car, and she doesn't
have a clue where this house is. So she just stares at her little in her ridiculous plaid skirt, with a vague notion of how fucked they both
"Baby baby..." Grace babbles, raising a little box up to her big
sister's face. Gina's ears are buzzing, burning, and her eyes roll back in
her head. She's dimly aware of Erik carrying her up the stairs.
By Aerosol Kid <firstname.lastname@example.org> Visit me at