Die Walküre: Ragnarök

In a world almost exactly like our own, history has started to unfold differently, with the beginnings of a newhalf race appearing in the late 20th century and coming to legitimacy in the 21st. In socially developed countries who could not simply eliminate them on religious grounds, they have come to be recognized as a minority with all the rights and protections inherent in such a status.

But like many minorities, these newhalf beings face prejudice and bigotry from the established order, and from people who fear change. This sexual bigotry also means that people of gay, lesbian, transgendered, or hermaphroditic nature are caught in the crossfire. Many people seek a return to a more traditional way of sexual life.

Die Walküre takes place in the year 2008. Please enjoy.


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2 all u wondering I go 2 the same school as this bitch, not gonna say who I am but if I said my name u would know it…anyway I just want to drop in to say that u should do the world a favor and kill urself…u really think anyone cares about u! nobody gives a fuk about you wearing a tie DYKE!!! u act like things have changes with all the freaks nowadays…they should ship u and all of them and put u on an island somewhere…then drop a bomb on it. U r stupid…ugly…and when I talk to the other girls about u we laugh and laugh…even sean mac told us how bad u smell and we fukin laughed so hard. if you want a cock so bad go get one and get the fuk out of our school u freak bitch

Srsly go kill urself

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Cassie looked over her handiwork and an impish smirk lit one side of her mouth. With the whiteness of her screen monitor reflecting in her eyes, her usual alpha-bitch gaze of triumph was modified into something even more sinister and robotic, morphing her young and angular face into that of the ghastly blog “terminator” whom she currently fancied herself. Cassie could already imagine Sarah Liebermann throwing herself around her white trash townhouse bedroom at the sight of this latest comment, maybe dismantling one of her Bic Lady Disposables to prepare for the inevitable emo wrist-cutting adventure. That outcome would suit Cassie just fine- she hated Sarah Liebermann. Not because of anything that Sarah had ever done to her, but because Sarah was just plain weird…and with the changes going on in the world, the mass-scale influx of hermaphroditic culture…sometimes a good ol’ fashioned “normal” girl just needed to let her frustration be known. In Cassie’s opinion, people were tired of the bullshit, the “newhalf political correctness”. They wanted their old way of life back- the version where a mother didn’t have to worry about her daughter becoming attached to some dick-swinging, sex-crazed freak.

Cassie leaned back on her bed, the hiss of her laptop fan the only sound in the empty house, and considered the situation. Sarah Liebermann had always been gender-confused, that much was for sure- and as far as Cassie was concerned, she never wanted to see, hear, or think about any form of gender confusion ever again. Sarah Liebermann was no dickgirl (thank god) but she was definitely headed for a sex-change operation, and Cassie was tired of Sarah stubbornly clinging to some manner of social life. The pants-wearing, dyke-culture embracing Sarah had chosen her path- freakdom. What irritated Cassie most was that Sarah wouldn’t just get in the closet and shut the fuck up about it, no. In fact, Sarah figured that this strange new dickgirl phenomenon was just the excuse she needed to get more involved and let her voice be heard.

“She’s always shoving it in people’s faces!” Cassie had once complained to her friend Brooke, a fellow cheerleader and proud daughter of parents who were often away, leaving ample opportunities for amazing parties to which people like Sarah Liebermann weren’t invited. “God I hate her…what happened to just being a girl? What happened to just dating guys, marrying one, not being such a weird bitch all the time?”

“She’s definitely a weird bitch,” Brooke had replied. Even over the phone, Cassie had known exactly what pose Brooke was in. Flat on her stomach on her bed, perpendicular to the length of it, with her feet dangling off one end, a television remote control in one hand, and her cell in the other. It was almost a certainty that the girl’s toenails were freshly painted as well. “Did you hear Erica’s brother found out she has a blog? He found it while searching for porn!”

That’s how the entire thing had started. Cassie had alerted her friends to the fact that Sarah had started a blog, and they had all descended on it one day. All the posts were long (and in Cassie’s opinion, boring and stupid) entries about transgender issues and the effect of the dawning new-half culture on the new world. The girls had arranged the first bombardment via text message, coordinating a series of none-too-polite comments about Sarah’s sexuality and suspect personal hygiene. It made no difference to Cassie that the latter accusation wasn’t grounded in reality- she was only looking to stir up trouble for Sarah, who had become the White Whale to her Captain Ahab- a symbol for all of the perceived problems in her young, middle-class life.

Cassie Lynam was a cheerleader, soccer player, and head of the high-school swimming club- by most standards, she had it good. Genetically she’d lucked out, passing effortlessly into puberty and beyond without any unsightly physical blemishes. She kept active and found it easy to keep any excess weight off, for she was always running in both athletic and mental high gear. Though only of medium height, she could cover ground on the football pitch effortlessly thanks to legs that had grown so long and coltish that they seemed to vault her forward with each springing step. Her father was a union electrician- crazy money, but long hours. Her mother mostly kept house but was tirelessly involved in about a billion different fundraisers- Cassie was often asked to dress up and attend these events, which were filled with bored 16-year-olds like her, and their philanthropic parents. She usually tried to find a good place to go off and smoke some weed on such occasions. Her boyfriend, Evan, drove a pickup truck that he always kept shining in between muddy off-roading forays and camping trips. Evan was a bit of a hothead and seemed to care about only three things: a) Drinking, b) Partying, and c) Having a hot girlfriend with whom he could indulge his occasional bouts of horniness. Cassie was happy to be the girlfriend- Evan was a good-looking guy, well-muscled and two years older than she, with a cool ride and ready access to booze, drugs, and isolated make-out spots.

Yes, the life of Cassie Lynam was pretty good. She was well-to-do, beautiful, and had a circle of well-to-do and beautiful friends. Her boyfriend was a blue-eyed beach stud with what she privately thought was a large cock- a fact that she constantly hinted at to her friends, as if Evan’s truck and rugged looks weren’t enough to have them green with envy. Her wardrobe, makeup, and social plans were always squared away, and her grades were good. So why the hatred for poor Sarah Liebermann, that short-haired young girl who seemed to fancy herself the Ellen Degeneres of their high school? It was simple.

Cassie saw Sarah’s existence as a threat. A threat to the partying, cheerleading, ostracizing, finger-banging way of life that her kind had dominated for so many years. She and her friends were simultaneously flirtatious and closed-off- while they dressed provocatively and planned to one day decorate their lower backs with “cool looking” tribal tattoos, they would never think of themselves as anything but the most untouchable of sexual pinnacles. Though she would never tell anyone this, Cassie privately thought that her tight little bubblegum-pink pussy was something too perfect for any man to ever truly possess. She let Evan think that she was “his girl” because it was important to his testosterone-loaded, off-roading ego, but in truth she thought her crotch was Fort Knox, and the gold therein, unassailable. She and her friends all thought this way, listening happily to Avril Lavigne songs about “not giving it up” and snapping their fingers along with the ball-busting beat.

Sarah’s sexual sophistication, and willingness to discuss the newhalf phenomenon (in terms other than “Ewww! Gross!”) drove Cassie mad- especially when she saw that some of the boys at the school had joined in the frank discussions by posting in Sarah’s blog. For someone who loved to show off her beach-kissed, lithe body at swim meets and parties, Cassie had a lot more fun shooting down prospective male partners than coupling with them. Especially when someone for whom she was “out of their league” tried to approach her, she would do her best to make the prospective beau pay for his effrontery, verbally cutting his balls off in front of his friends, if he had any. She especially enjoyed doing this with her boyfriend present, since Evan was liable to fly into a rage at the thought of any young man approaching her. More than once, her flirting had led to some poor, bespectacled nerd being beaten on the front lawn of whatever booze-fuelled house party they were attending. Even though Cassie had no intention of giving any less-than-perfect boy a kiss, let alone fucking them, she still wanted the attention- and that was what Sarah Liebermann, and the entire newhalf population, was stealing from her.

Cassie hated almost everything about dickgirls, but the thing that perhaps bothered her the most was the fact that they were willing to put out, disrupting the balance for coltish young cheerleaders like herself, who were in the business of leaving as many young men as possible with a brutal case of the blue balls. And dickgirls were so forward, too! Cassie had heard rumors of their behavior…they would initiate sex brazenly with girls just like her (and boys too, if their female parts needed attention!) and that was a problem. Cassie’s own circle of friends had been punctured by it. A girl by the name of Nicole, as beautiful as the rest of her circle, had simply stopped hanging out with them. Cassie had been in the middle of a story about what a faggot Nick Bridgeman was for believing he had any right to kiss her, when Nicole had just rolled her eyes.

“Is this how you guys want to spend your time?” Nicole had said, her eyes impatient. “Not having sex?”

Cassie had been too astounded to even reply, and Nicole had simply gotten up and left. “I’ll see you all later, I guess,” she had said, but that was the last time they had even really been together as friends. They later discovered that Nicole had met a newhalf girlfriend who was “putting it to her” on a regular basis. They had moved Northeast together when Nicole transferred high schools- but not before Nicole had also shtupped several of the boys in their grade, bringing them in for hot threesomes and generally lowering the standard for their clique. And she had remained popular!

Cassie was afraid that the days of untouchability amongst popular girls was done- that her time as Queen of the Mountain was coming to an end. Men were drawn to this dickgirl thing- that must was obvious. Sarah Liebermann had risen from the ashes of unpopularity just by writing about it- and she was a total freak!

Cassie huffed and let breath slide from her mouth upward toward the ceiling, laying back on her bed. “That stupid bitch,” she mumbled to herself, swinging her legs back and forth against the bedcovers absently. The silk was soft against her skin- she’d taken her skirt off upon arriving home and was wearing only her school-blouse and panties. Rolling over slightly, she refreshed Sarah’s page and smiled- her friends had started to make comments as well, just as planned. They were accusing Sarah of being a stupid cunt and a smelly, unwashed bitch with a tuna-crotch, unsophisticated to be sure, but compelling to their peers, who were unsophisticated themselves. Cassie didn’t think of things in those terms, of course, but she knew what worked- she had heard Evan and his friends joke about girls enough times to know what they liked and what they didn’t. She scrolled down the page and burst out laughing, a gleeful giggle.

Someone had photoshopped a yearbook picture of Sarah where a number of long, black penises were being jerked off into her face. The fedora she had dared to wear in the photo, brim tilted down over her sadly smiling features, was plainly visible.

"SARAH LIEBERMAN SUCKS NIGGER COCK"

..was the caption. Below it, some other wit had posted in reference to Sarah’s questionable sexuality:

"but she d rather eat nigger cunt!!!!"

Cassie quickly text messaged her friend Brooke.

“lol nigger cock was that u?”

Brooke replied quickly:

“no lol amandas boyfriend made it”

The idea that the girls were getting their boyfriends involved pleased Cassie to no end. Brooke quickly send along another message:

“she prolly sux nigger cock 4real tho shes poor as fuck lol”

Cassie cackled and rolled on the bed slightly to enter a comment of her own on the blog:

"I HOPE A NIGGER RAPES U BITCH, GET THE FUCK OUT OF MIDDLEBURY"

She hit the “Post” button with glee. Sarah was no doubt reading these comments and realizing how much everyone hated her, her stupid, gender-bending style of dress, and her tolerance for those dickgirl freaks. Maybe some boys were on her side, but from what she had seen, the ones posting on her blog were all nerds with handles like “PrinceVegeta2543”. She could handle upsetting a few zit-faced geeks if it meant showing everyone that their town was no place for dykes, dickgirls and other weirdos. Cassie closed her eyes and imagined a big bottle of Tylenol 3’s being gulped down by Sarah Liebermann following the writing of a hasty suicide note. It made her tingle between the legs!

More comments were popping up- she’d called all of her popular friends, and they had gotten their boyfriends involved too, it seemed. All comments were left Anonymously…no need to stir up trouble for oneself…but they got the job done in showing absolute hatred and disdain for Sarah Liebermann, which had been the goal in the first place. Cassie hoped she was sobbing. Hoped she was considering swallowing a gun-barrel. Hoped that Sarah was realizing that her brand of sexually-confused faggotry would never fly in Middlebury, and preparing to chug a can of paint thinner. She lay back on her bed, nimble hands behind her head, fingers entwining in the forest of her dirty-blonde hair, and closed her eyes- reveling in the images.

It was fifteen seconds before a noise jerked her from her state of rest. It was no bang, no big noise at all…in fact, it took time to dawn on her that there even was a noise. Under the normal run of things she would not have cared…but there was nobody else home, nor would be for hours. Her mother was in another county on some manner of retreat for chairpersons of her philanthropic committee. Her father was working a 16 hour shift, monitoring catalytic converters in some steel behemoth chemical plant she would never see or care about. The house had been totally silent except for the clatter of her keyboard and the hum of her laptop cooling fan.

Slowly, she rose from the bed, head cocked to the side, ears perked. She slide one hand up the side of her head and tucked her long hair behind one ear, as if to remove any obstruction that might prevent the identification of the sound. Her blue eyes blazed in the semi-darkness as she approached the dim hallway outside of her room. The sound was faint…but nearby. Tinny music…

Her mind snapped into recognition. It was a ringtone. But that was not the end of the mystery- her own cellphone was on her bed- and it was silent. She had used it to send a message to her friend Brooke just a moment earlier. After looking back to confirm that, yes, it was indeed still there, she took a tentative step closer to the hallway. The tone was a song she had heard before, but she couldn’t figure out where. It was sweeping, classical...but she couldn’t remember where she had heard it. She didn’t listen to classical music, preferring Avril Lavigne, Gwen Stefani, and especially any female musician with a lot of songs about shooting men out of the saddle and leaving them with useless erections. Her full lips pursed cutely as she peeked out of her own door.

“Hello?” she said, softly. The ringtone was still going, and there was a dim light being cast on the floor of the upstairs hallway, shining off the expensive tile. The cellphone was on the floor of all places- and still ringing.

She took two steps toward it and then it crystallized in her mind exactly where she had heard the song in the ringtone. She had been watching the movie “Jarhead” with her boyfriend- a war movie about the U.S. invading some Middle-Eastern shithole. She hadn’t cared about that part. In one scene of the movie, the recruits had been shown watching ANOTHER movie, and singing along with the rousing soundtrack while helicopters had been tearing across the sky onscreen. Apparently, the song and the helicopters were some important war movie cinematic moment, though Cassie hadn’t cared about anything other than smoking weed and rubbing her boyfriend through his pants.

But that had been the song, though. She was surprised at the detail with which she could remember. Perhaps it was just her nerves, making everything seem more vivid. Where had the phone come from?

The song was still going, that rousing, classical theme. Sarah Liebermann momentarily forgotten, Cassie took two more steps and bent to pick up the phone, flipping it open and raising it to her ear.

“Hello?” she asked.

There was silence on the other end of the line for several seconds, and Cassie took a quick look around her to see if there were any signs of who might have placed this mysterious phone, the model of which she had never seen before in her life, on the ground outside her bedroom. She couldn’t spot anything out of place in the darkened hallway, but it was dark...she wondered to herself if she was missing something obviously, like a figure pressed up against the wall, perhaps giggling to him or herself at the funny joke.

“Hello?” she said again.

“Is this Cassandra Imogene Lynam?” came the voice from the other end...and Cassie was so startled that she nearly dropped the phone then and there. The voice was like two voices at once. One was the melodic voice of a woman- a powerful, majestic sound, like a lounge singer who could capture the audience from the first second and never let them go. And behind it there was a second voice, speaking in unison- a sort of banshee wail…like an otherworldly presence hidden in the soundwave. Like a ghost had learned to talk.

“Who is this?” she said at once. She wouldn’t put it past one of Evan’s asshole friends to call her up and start fucking with her using a voice alteration device of some kind- Evan knew any number of lowlife pricks who thought the world was just there for their amusement, and Cassie knew there were such devices…at least, she had seen them in the movies.

“Whatever measure you deal out to others, it will be dealt to you in return.”

Cassie looked perturbed. “Barry, is that you?” she asked, still bothered by the otherworldly quality of the voice. It was some special effects trick, for certain…but why bother with such a thing?

“I have only one thing more to say unto you,” the voice replied. It was a female voice, but deep, authoritarian. Cassie wrinkled her brow, a small metal piercing rising up with the elegant arc of her eyebrow. She’d had it done only two months ago.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” she replied, putting some force behind her voice. Whatever this nonsense was, it was unsettling, and Cassie wished the joker would just get to the fucking point. But the words that came, spoken in that deep, haunted voice, would unsettle her badly. In truth, she would never forget them.

“The indigo voice has spoken to us, and said ‘Go your ways, and pour out the vials of the wrath of God upon the earth.’”

It was then that the large window in the upstairs hallway burst inward with a crash. Cassie screamed, her blue eyes wide, and backed quickly toward her room. It took her keen eyes only a second to recognize a human, female figure amidst the incursion and debris, and that was all she needed to see before she turned and ran back to her room, slamming the door shut behind her. When she was sure she had it secure, she turned toward her bed, her long, bare legs ready to propel her near-instantly across it and to her phone, which was laying near the far edge. But she never even made the attempt.

Standing before Cassie’s bed was a costumed figure wearing a mask- very clearly female. Much of the costume was form-fitting latex, gleaming white under the overhead light of her room. The midriff transitioned into a latticed skirt of what appeared to be vertical plastic plates, armor-like, hanging down to about the knee. Everything below that was covered in a latex boot. The costume was very revealing above the waist- this female figure was very well endowed, with tits that were more than a handful, somehow kept in place by a crisscross of white latex and leather straps. Cassie could see the outline of large, pronounced areolas even through the material of the costume. The woman’s neck was swanlike and angular, majestic even…and platinum hair erupted out above it in an elaborate, nearly-impossible hairstyle- a close-cropped topknot flaring outward in jagged starpuff, like a burst firework. On the shoulders of the costume were metal spaulders inlaid with cherubs and clouds…and there and elsewhere were what looked to be white feathers, jutting.

The mask was white and gleamed like metal. It was etched with glowing electronic rivulets that shimmered in the light, coruscating constantly as if some strange energy were traveling through them. It was form-fitting and covered the entire face down to the jaw, but not including the ears. Cassie couldn’t tell how it was attached to the woman’s face, but she did know it was like no mask she had ever seen. The woman’s hands were on her hips, and Cassie could see from the outline of her arms that she was fit, but not bulky…likely very fast and athletic, not unlike herself. Cassie did this because she knew that in order to run, she might need to get past this person.

A voice came from beneath the mask, that twin voice, female and alien all at once. It was the one from the phone, and the etched rivulets of the gleaming white mask pulsated with light every time a syllable was uttered. “How much she hath glorified herself, and lived deliciously, so much torment and sorrow give her: for she saith in her heart, I sit a queen, and am no widow, and shall see no sorrow.”

There came a harsh knock on the door from behind Cassie, enough to bow the wood inward on the frame. An intruding knock. The teenage girl yelped and circled clockwise around her room, keeping her distance from the white-clad figure. “Get the fuck out of my house!” she screeched, her beautiful blue eyes wide like saucers, her hands clutched together over her chest. Cassie groped on her desk for a weapon and found only a hardcover book detailing various hairstyles- but it was something. The knock came again, even harder. One hinge nearly burst. Cassie pressed back against her desk. The white-clad woman was circling with her, staying between her and her phone…and her and the window.

“Therefore shall her plagues come in one day, death, and mourning, and famine; and she shall be utterly burned with fire: for strong is the Lord God who judgeth her,” the voice continued.

Cassie gaped as the door to her room burst inward, nearly flying completely off the hinged. Into the room stepped a second costumed figure, this one clad in scarlet, with a mask much the same, but differences elsewhere- the boots were heavy combat boots overtop of skintight thigh-highs, the top of each was strapped with an assortment of pouches and loops, like Batman’s utility belt. Even a second’s glance told Cassie that this newcomer was packing both a wicked-looking knife and a huge, chromed-out gun, and this made her improvised weapon, the hardcover book, feel inadequate indeed. This woman was thick and athletic, her skin was a dark, jungle tan, and tattoos were scattered all over her body. The costume was subtly different up top- only a pair of leather underwear covered the crotch. Her tits were as large as her white friend’s, satcheled in a zipper-bisected leather cut-off. The hair behind the mask was a close-cropped, vibrant red. In running her gaze up and down the frame of this new beauty, Cassie realized she could see the striations on the newcomer’s abdominal muscles clearly. This red-masked invader was built like a brick shithouse. Cassie noticed two further things in the blink of an eye between eye contact and scream. First, this woman had neck tattoo- a bar code printed across her throat. Cassie had heard Evan say that the neck was the most painful place to get a tattoo, and that the guys with neck tattoos were the ones you ought not to fuck with. Second…there was quite a large bulge in the front of this woman’s leather bikini briefs- as if she’d tucked something between her legs but couldn’t quite hide it all.

“Oh god!” yelped Cassie. The woman who had just burst into the room was a dickgirl! This, needless to say, was an eventuality for which Avril Lavigne had not prepared her.

The red-haired woman stepped forward, looking inhuman in her scarlet mask. To Cassie’s eye, while the first was dressed like a goddess from some old opera filled with ladies wearing iron brassieres, the second was much different. She looked like a super heroine from some comic book, strapped with weapons, her perfect body cut with muscles, her body outlined in skintight latex and bare everywhere else. She was taller than the other, too- Amazonian, almost. Cassie gripped her hardcover book tighter. In response, the red woman drew the chromed-out handgun that had been strapped to her inner thigh and took aim.

“Please…please!” begged Cassie, holding her book in front of her face and looking away. “Stop messing around, I’ll call the fucking cops, right now, I swear to God!” She could not tell what these people wanted. Couldn’t glean any emotion from their masked faces. But with so much damage to her window and her house, how could it be a joke? Cassie started to think about survival.

“And I will kill her children with death; and all the churches shall know that I am she which searcheth the reins and hearts: and I will give unto every one of you according to your works,” came the voice from behind the white mask. Cassie was totally bewildered. The way the words went together, she had some dim notion of a condemnation- but these people were clearly crazy, breaking into her home, her room- her personal space! How could they? Her blue eyes peeked out from behind the book to stare down the huge barrel of the handgun. To Cassie, the thing looked bigger than any handgun she had ever seen- it was a wonder the woman could hold it up. But then again- she was a big woman. Cassie’s blue eye went down to gaze again on that telltale leather crotch bulge. Perhaps not a woman at all!

The white intruder stepped toward her then, stopping just a stride short. Cassie cowered against her desk. “Cassandra Lynam,” she intoned, her voice doubled and distorted, yet oddly melodic. “Her wrath is come. Thou shall be judged.”

Cassie was beginning to panic. “Just go away!” she bawled, peeking out from behind her book. Her perfect young body seemed very small indeed huddled up against her desk, though her pantless legs still appeared to go on nearly forever, and her tiny, barely-there panties did little to disguise the puffiness of her tender young pussy. Sarah Liebermann’s humiliation and hopeful suicide was completely out of her mind, a testament not only to how scared she was, but to how little her potentially life-ruining actions had weighed on her conscience.

The white-costumed woman continued speaking in her melodic, two-channeled voice. “Woe, woe, woe, to the inhabiters of the earth by reason of the other voices of the trumpet of the three angels, which are yet to sound,” she said.

“What the fuck are you talking about!?” howled Cassie, clutching her book to her chest, shielding herself, squeezing her eyes shut and feeling the beginning of fresh tears.

“It means ‘You’re fucked.’”, came a voice from behind the red mask, making itself heard for the first time. It had none of the strange, otherworldly quality of the white-masked voice. This new voice was a sarcastic female sneer. “A Mark nineteen Desert Eagle, fifty cal, up against your copy of ‘Modern Hairstyling’. My bet is on the Israeli steel, brat.” The teenage girl peeked out from behind her book and found herself only two or three feet from the yawning barrel of one of the biggest, shiniest handguns she had ever seen. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Do you have any idea what an Action Express round, at 1,500 feet per second, would do to a pretty little face like yours?” the red-haired amazon continued. Cassie thought crazily that she looked like an American Gladiator from hell. The teenage soccer and swimming athlete didn’t even try to answer the question.

“Take whatever you want, but please, don’t kill or rape me!”, cried Cassie.

The red mask tilted back with a chuckle, and she raised the gun to rest against her own shoulder, tilted upward. “One out of two ain’t bad, I guess.” The woman then placed her gun absently on the compact-disc storage shelf near the door. Cassie watched her carefully, waiting for a chance to make a play for the gun. She was Cassie Lynam- the most popular girl in school. There was no way something like this was going to happen to her, oh no. Cassie didn’t even know what was in store, but she knew it couldn’t be good and was liable to be embarrassing at the very least. If this was some sort of elaborate prank, she would have her revenge, oh yes…nobody got over on Cassie for long. But the gun certainly LOOKED real…and the bodies of the intruders were so voluptuous and unique- these weren’t high school students wearing bad costumes, they were, at the very least, professional actresses wearing custom-tailored outfits that had cost thousands of dollars.

Cassie watched, wide-eyed, vulnerable in her blouse and underwear, while the red masked woman pulled an old-fashioned wooden match from a zippered pocket on her high-cut leather top and then produced a small cigar from a pouch on her thigh. The girl gasped as Miss Red scratched the match alight by striking it against one of the big, fleshy cheeks of her perfectly formed ass. She touched the match to the tip of the cigar and raised it up to her face…but it bumped fruitlessly against the gleaming red mask. Cassie raised an eyebrow.

“Shit,” came the voice behind the mask. “I hate this fucking thing.” She moved one lean, powerful arm up to her head and grasped the edge of her mask under the chin, then lifted it away from her as one would remove an executioner’s shroud after the deed was done. Cassie was struck by two things. First, the beauty of the face underneath. It was tanned, tough, with full lips and jungle-green eyes, like a cat on the hunt. The woman’s nose was a cute little pug, a slight contrast to the rest of her extravagant features, but still showing that same toughness. Cassie was able to confirm that this red-clad intruder’s hair was done in a simple, Joan-of-Arc style close-cropped to her head. The two thick, dark streaks of lamp black under her eyes did nothing to take away from the exotic beauty of her face.

The second thing Cassie realized is that this was likely her chance to go for the gun. The thick smell of the sulpher match was hanging in the air, and the woman had just placed her newly-lit cigar in her mouth, dragging on it, causing the lit end to cast her face in an orange glow. Cassie made her move, throwing her book forcefully at the woman and darting toward the gun, meaning to pick it up and then run as fast as she could out the door. If they tried to follow, she would turn the gun on them and hold them there until police could arrive. Cassie was fast, an athlete, and able to launch herself forward with great strength. She was halfway to the gun by the time her thrown hardcover had arrived on target, but from the corner of her eye the teenage girl could see that the red-dressed woman had used one muscled arm to swat it out of the air like a paper airplane. Cassie’s hand came down toward the gun, but stopped a millimeter short as her wrist was captured by her tormentor’s hand, which had darted out lightning fast.

“Uuungh!” growled Cassie, and turn, striking out with one slender hand which she balled into a fist. She was no expert at fighting, but when put to the test she liked to think she could handle herself quite well. Her aim was a little off. The blow that landed was more of a forearm, striking true into the red-haired woman’s midsection. Cassie waited for a sharp cry of pain from her enemy, or the quick exhalation of breath that followed when a person’s wind was knocked out. But nothing came. Her forearm had run into what felt like a wall. A wall with abdominal muscles for bricks and perfect, tanned skin for mortar. Cassie looked up in terror to see a beautiful face lit demonically by cigar-light. Cassie was a tall girl, but this woman was taller, stronger…and seemingly made of iron. Her attacker looked down at her forearm with bemused incredulity, and then back to Cassie’s stunned face.

“That’s it?” sneered Miss Red. “That’s your big finish?” It took only a second for her force Cassie’s wrist upward and pin it against the girl’s own throat, slamming her against the wall and jostling several compact discs from the nearby rack. Cassie mewled with horror as the big bitch slipped a powerful hand under her teenage crotch and hoisted her like a sack of mail. God, to feel her arm there, it was awful! The red-haired woman hoisted Cassie like a big inert package and tossed the panty-clad princess across the room, spinning her through the air to bounce on her own bed and tumble to the floor on the opposite side. Any man present would have gotten instant erection at the sight of Cassie’s young, athletic body flopping around, her long legs flailing in the air like two golden wings, their undignified kicking providing onlookers with crotch shots galore. But of course, there were no men present. Just Cassie and two intruders.

Cassie struggled to her knees and looked up over the side of her bed at these two women- the red-haired bad-ass with emerald eyes like Vietnam jungle, and the white-clad enigma who, for all Cassie knew, might also be sporting a cock behind the polymer skirt she was wearing. “Who the fuck are you?” she trembled, wiping a fearful tear from her eye. She felt like she was dreaming, this couldn’t possibly be real. “Who the fuck are you?”

The answer would haunt her until the day she died.

“Die Walküre,”, replied the white-clad woman, her two voices resonating. “And they had hair as the hair of women, and their teeth were as the teeth of lions. And they had breastplates, as it were breastplates of iron; and the sound of their wings was as the sound of chariots, moving into battle.”

Cassie burst out in uncomprehending sobs. “Stop!” she bawled. “It’s not funny anymore!” She buried her pretty face in her hands, dirty-blonde hair cascading over nimble fingers. “Go away! Go away, whoever you are! I’m going to call the fucking cops, I swear to God!”

“I’m Valkyrie Red and this is Valkyrie White,” said the red-haired woman.

There were footsteps at the doorway then- two sets of them, but Cassie’s hope that they might be her deliverers was short-lived. The first of the new arrivals was a black-costumed Valkyrie, her skin pale and smooth against the ebony gleam of her gothic dress. She too wore a mask, and her hairstyle was the most extravagant yet- a huge cascade of jet black tresses falling down to the middle of her back. She had none of the muscle of Valkyrie Red, but her entire being seemed to exude a vampiric, milky smoothness and roundness. Her waist was cinched up in an unbelievably tight corset, and when it gave way, her body seemed to explode with big, white, luscious tits and ass. And that wasn’t the only part of her that was bulging- her crotch, like that of Valkyrie Red, was home to a telltale protrusion.

The second newcomer was a young man- probably the most handsome young man that Cassie had ever seen. Skin of gold, like hers, and blonde-haired- a shade actually lighter than his dark tan. His eyes were a thoughtful and deep indigo. He must have been about her age, maybe a bit older…and there wasn’t a physical imperfection to be seen on his young, Adonis-like body. He was wearing pants that appeared to be made of some manner of red leather. Though Cassie wasn’t nearly enough of an otaku to realize it (she privately didn’t really like Asians or Asian culture) this young man had enough bishonen hunk qualities to make any fangirl swoon. In fact, it was as if he’d been grown in a tube for just that purpose. His muscled were cut, his body perfectly proportioned. Athletic shoulders, chiseled abdominals, pulsating pectorals! And god, what a tight behind! There was a tattoo on his left shoulder- a stylized logo, and letters reading “Squire”. In his hands he held a Sony video camera, top of the line.

“Looks like you got started without us,” came a sultry voice from behind the black mask. This was, obviously, Valkyrie Black- and Cassie dejectedly wondered how many colors of the rainbow would show up to torment her. This prank was wearing her to her last nerve…if indeed it was a prank. She held out some hope that she was on some manner of “You Got Punked!” TV show…but the violence with which Valkyrie Red had handled her, and that decidedly not-suitable-for-TV bulge in her leather bikini bottom...those things argued against it being a joke. Cassie noticed with alarm that the video camera in the young man’s hand was running…and he was zeroing in on her. Valkyrie White circled the bed, and that strange angelic, female voice echoed in her ears.

“Cassandra Lynam- you must now answer for your crimes.”

Cassie slid back against the wall, keeping her bed as a buffer between her and her assailants, her long, sexy legs propelling her tight behind easily across the hardwood floor of her room. Her blue eyes were wide and trembling as she struggled to comprehend the meaning of the words being spoken.

“I haven’t committed any crimes!” she bawled, shaking her head uncomprehendingly. And her voice kicked into a new gear, the panic beginning to overtake her. “Just get the fuck out of my house and leave me alone!!” Her voice was a shrill, overpowering scream. Had her parents been less affluent, their house not as far removed from neighbors, someone might have heard her. As it was, their relative wealth worked against her, and her scream vanished into the air of the night.

Valkyrie Red walked forward, green eyes gleaming- Cassie could see a thin sheen of sweat reflecting off of her body and the many tattoos decorating her well-proportioned form. The teenage girl barely had time to moan before a powerful hand moved toward her head and captured her by the hair.

“No! No!” she screamed, kicking her powerful, coltish legs out wildly, but missing in every attempt to take the balance out from under her attacker. Valkyrie Red hauled her upward with what seemed to be supernatural strength and dragged her toward her bed, knocking her laptop off the mattress with one arm, pulling Cassie along with the other, then tossing her facedown onto the bedspread. Cassie tried to wriggle away, the muscles of her ass pumping beneath her white panties, but it was no use- before she could move more than a foot toward the other side of the bed, a forearm was jammed into the back of her neck, a knee was in the small of her back, and one of her arms was bent painfully up behind her.

“Stop struggling and shut the fuck up!” hissed Valkyrie Red through clenched teeth. Cassie clamped her legs shut tightly and tried to roll to the side, to kick out, to do anything to dislodge the large woman who was mounting her, but it was no use- it was like trying to dislodge a collegiate wrestler. Valkyrie Red was put together…Cassie had never felt so powerless. She let out a mighty scream- her loudest yet. It wailed like a siren and seemed to drown out all other sound in the room. It was the scream that only a terrified, desperate 16-year-old girl could produce. But it was no use.

“Nobody can hear you!” growled Valkyrie Red. In a move that suggested she was tired of having her ears assaulted by Cassie’s unreasonably loud screeching, she stuffed the girl’s face straight down into the bedcovers and pulled upward on the arm she had pinned, threatening to break it. Cassie uttered one last, partially-muffled howl, and then fell into a series of gasping breaths. She was surrounded now. She could sense people standing around her at all sides. The young man with the video camera was recording it all.

Valkyrie Red grabbed Cassie by her hair and turned her face up again, jerking her to the right, encouraging her to look up at Valkyrie White, who was standing by her bedside, impassive and monolithic in her gleaming mask.

“At the age of twelve you manipulated a boy with whom you’d experimented sexually,” said Valkyrie White. “This is when we first took notice of you. Perhaps you barely remember Fred Dermott, but he remembers you quite well, Cassie. After agreeing to fool around with him, you accused him of inappropriate advances. He attempted suicide and was subjected to psychological counseling, and to this day, harbors a mistrust of women and has great difficulty with relationships.” The white-masked woman towered over Cassie and cocked her head to the side. “We wonder why you chose to deal with it the way you did. Sexual experimentation amongst young men and women is common- and yet you chose to characterize the event as some form of abuse, painting yourself as the victim. We believe, though, that you were complicit in every act, and received much enjoyment from them. Isn’t it true that, when you lost interest in Fred, you decided that you could never live with the idea that you had allowed a boy to touch you of your own free will? That you would rather see yourself as the victim? Regardless of how it affected him?”


“Fred Dermott was a loser!” snarled Cassie, her eyes furious. “He told me he loved me and I was twelve fucking years old, he was fourteen! What did he know about it? I needed to cut him loose, and he was too stupid to get the message!”

“And yet he honestly loved you, as confused and immature as that love might have been,” came the voice from above her.

“He was gaining weight!” growled Cassie. “He showed up after summer vacation and he’d gained like twenty pounds! Plus his face was starting to break out! I didn’t want anything to do with him, and I didn’t want anyone to know I ever had!” Cassie spit on her own floor, her eyes blazing. “What was I supposed to do? Let him down easy and have him trying to win me back?”

“At the age of fifteen you suspected your 19-year-old tutor, Kylie Salters, of lesbian tendencies. You pretended to be interested in her, lured her into initiating a physical encounter, then rebuked her and spread rumors about her throughout the town. She was accused of praying on children and suffered great abuse because of it, including but not limited to vandalism. On the evening of September 18th of 2005, she was beaten harshly by three anonymous women who were under the impression that she was a sexual predator. This was fuelled by the anti-newhalf drama of the period, when the NCRP was still being formed.”

“None of that was my fault!” Cassie replied. “And I could tell she wanted to have sex with me!”

“They knocked out her front teeth and left her with several scars, yet the worst of it was the psychological trauma you inflicted when you lured her in, making her feel safe in her sexuality despite the harsh backlash of the period, and then betrayed her.”

“I didn’t betray her! She came on to me!” moaned Cassie, indignant even with a forearm in the back of her neck.

“Fucking liar,” hissed Valkyrie Red. “I bet you whispered all sorts of sweet nothings in her ear while you were learning your multiplication tables.”

Cassie suddenly seemed to burn with rage. “Fuck you!” she hissed, struggling on the bed. “When my parents and friends find out about this, you’re going to be so sorry- and if you hurt me, you’re going to be rotting in jail for the rest of your lives.”

“Is that a fact?” replied Red.

“Fuck yes,” hissed Cassie. “And I hear dickgirls get treated like shit in jail.”

Valkyrie Red pulled harshly at Cassie’s hair. “You manipulative little crotch, you led her on and you know it!”

Cassie struggled and howled underneath the weight of Valkyrie Red, defiance burning in her eyes. “So what?! So what!? So what if I told her I’d jam my little 15-year-old tongue in her twat and lick her out like her cunt was made of strawberry ice cream! That doesn’t change the fact that my parents are going to be home any second and all of you are going to be fucked!”

There was silence for a second…and then Valkyrie White spoke. “This has become a pattern for you, Cassie. For the sake of time I will not recite the full list of your crimes. Leading on, only to sabotage. Intentionally causing pain for those with sexuality that is unlike your own. Leaving hopeful, honest people to suffer in the wake of your own perceived untouchability.”

Cassie craned her neck up again, blowing a strand of her own gorgeous hair away from her eyes. “So you’ve come to give me a good scare, huh? You and the rest of the dick brigade. I get it…so get the fuck out of here and we’ll call it even.” Her eyes moved to track Valkyrie Black, who was walking around the bed. The young man with the Sony camera was following her movements. The black-masked vixen was holding something, but Cassie couldn’t figure out what it was. “But this is just the sort of stuff that proves us right about you newhalf. The sort of fucked-up people you are.”

“Can you believe the balls on this little tramp?” said Valkyrie Red, still perched atop Cassie. “Surrounded and subdued and she thinks she can talk shit.” Valkyrie Black finished her trip around the bed and arrived to stand next to White, looking down at Cassie. With one black-fingernailed hand she removed her mask, revealing a pale and elegant face, her lips painted black, her eyes decorated extensively with makeup fading from pink to deep purple. Her nose was delicate and small, her cheekbones high and regal. To put it succinctly, she was a gothic angel with big tits and a big ass, book-ending a tight little waist. Cassie was more interested in what she was holding in her hands.

“It’s funny you should mention us being thrown in jail,” said Valkyrie Black, her voice sultry and smoking- the harsh tongue of a lazy dominatrix biding her time before the hour of pain was to come. “Because that’s where this little trick originated.” She held one hand forward. “In this hand, darling, I have a length of hard but smooth rubber tubing.” Cassie looked at it with wide eyes- it was a neon green color, opaque, and about an inch in diameter. Valkyrie Black brought her other hand forward from behind her back. It was protected with a thick, padded glove, and for good reason. “And in this hand I have a length of anti-intruder barbed wire,” she finished.

Cassie’s eyes nearly exploded out of her head, wide, blue, and crazed with fear. The wire was wicked looking- a twisted coil of industrial strength metal cord with cactus-worthy barbs of wince-inducing steel protruding in bunches.

“Let me explain how this works,” said the vixen, raising one painted eyebrow.

“No,” said Cassie, beginning to struggle. “No. No. No…no no no.”

“Oh, let me explain before you get all worked up. In step one, the barbed wire goes into the plastic tubing.” Valkyrie Black carefully demonstrated this, sliding a length of the wire up into the tube. Cassie watched, beads of sweat running down her forehead, as the black-clad woman fed the wire length deeper and deeper inside the hose. It seemed the inside of the tubing was hard and frictionless, enough so to keep the wire from catching and tearing it. She continued this process for almost a minute, until she had a good two feet of wire-filled tubing completed.

“No,” said Cassie simply, her voice desperate and pathetic. “Whatever you’re doing, don’t…just forget it…call it off…please…I’m sorry I said anything to you…”

Valkyrie Black knelt down to her eye level. “We’re not going to give you any noble choices, like the decision between what we have planned, and death. We believe that a stubborn bitch like you, even one with your level of self-importance, would choose death. But there are some things worse than death, Cassie. And so we’re going to give you a different choice.”

Cassie trembled, tears beginning to stream from her beautiful blue eyes. Her attention was locked on Valkyrie Black. She had ceased trying to struggle against Red.

“In choice one, you do whatever we want.”

Cassie gulped.

“In choice two, this hose goes up your ass, or your cunt, with the barbed wire inside it.” Valkyrie Black moved her face closer to Cassie’s. “You see, it’s quite possible to slide the hose along the length of the wire without disturbing the wire.” As if to demonstrate, the raven-haired beauty did just that, moving the hard rubber covering several inches in each direction without dragging the wire along with it. “And so, this will go inside you, at least eighteen inches I think. And then we’ll pull the hose out.” She demonstrated, sliding the hose along the length of the wire…but leaving the wire unmoved.

“Just the hose.”

Cassie burst into tears.

“That’ll leave just the barbed wire inside you. Just the wire against your unprotected vagina, or poking into the walls of your bowels.”

“No…” sobbed Cassie. Valkyrie Black was silent for a moment, but Valkyrie Red couldn’t stand the suspense or ambiguity.

“Then we’ll yank the wire out, and that will be it for you, kiddo,” she chimed in. “When prisoners really want to fuck up another inmate, this is what they do to him. Because when the wire comes out, it takes most of the poor guy’s asshole and lower intestine with it. Apparently it’s one of the most painful things a person can ever experience. Most of the time they don’t survive. Those that do, wish they had died. But it isn’t quick. It takes hours to bleed out and die. Even the people who do it can barely stand to watch it. They save it for criminal informants and child molesters.”

Cassie began to sob into her pillow. Valkyrie Black spoke up. “You’re a smart kid, Cassie. We believe you’ll go with the devil you don’t know over the devil you do.”

Valkyrie White spoke up then. “We also know that given a choice between two negative outcomes, a smart person will delay making either choice for as long as she spin the situation. She will cajole, bargain with, and otherwise stymie those who judge her, hoping to gainsay either outcome.”

And then Valkyrie Red, moving her pretty lips to within an inch of Cassie’s ear, now straddling the teenager’s sleek back. “That’s why we say ‘Silence is consent to choice one.’

A pause seemed to suck the air out of the room.

“So, we’re going to shove this hose up your ass right now.”

Cassie screamed. They pounced on her. Valkyrie Red slammed a knee into her neck, forcing Cassie painfully downward into her mattress, and moved one hand to the waistband of Cassie’s tiny white panties. The fabric of her underwear was cupping her perfectly-toned teenage ass tightly. “I’ve been waiting to take these panties down,” growled Red, yanking hard and ripping Cassie’s underwear down to her knees, revealing her breathtaking behind. Try as she might to close her legs, there was no hiding the puffy bulge of her pink pussy, that inviting vertical gash that was forbidden fruit to so many. Cassie howled into the sheets, her mind a dark whirlwind of images, mostly involving the tearing of wet, interior flesh. She imagined barbed spikes digging and dragging at the red, pulsating walls of her pussy, her ass…shredding her insides like a pulled pork sandwich. Harsh hands held her arms and legs, and then two palms pulled the cheeks of her ass wide apart, giving the hovering video camera a sinful view of the perfect, pink asshole nestled in between her well-tanned ass globes. She heard the rustling of plastic tubing, and her heart felt fit to beat out of her chest. It was when she felt the edge of a hose poke against her rectum that the lock on her mouth was broken. A floor of words erupted from her panicked mouth.

“Oh my god fucking no…god no…please…I’ll do anything, whatever you want, just please, don’t do it, don’t put that thing inside me…fucking anything, I swear to god, just don’t hurt me!” Tears were pouring from her blue eyes, cutting rivers down her cheeks. Her glorious teenage athlete body was glistening with nervous sweat.

“Anything?” asked Valkyrie Black, her voice pregnant with meaning.

“Yes…yes…just stop…god, don’t do it!”

“I don’t believe her,” said Valkyrie Red, who was using two hands to spread Cassie’s amazing ass. “I think we should just fuck her up and leave her to bleed out.”

“No!” screamed Cassie at once. “I’ll do anything, I swear to god!”

“Oh yeah?” asked Valkyrie Red. “What will you do?”

Cassie began to sob into her sheets. “I…don’t…know!” she gasped, utterly overwhelmed. “Anything!” Relative to her captors, her sexual sophistication was in its infancy. She couldn’t articulate what she *would* do. She only knew that she would do anything to avoid having her most sacred places excoriated by barbed metal. Even fuck a dickgirl. Even that. An act for which she would have ostracized one of her friends. An act that, to her, was like fucking a different species.

Valkyrie Red got up from the bed, leaving Cassie to lay in a pool of her own sweat. Valkyrie Black pulled the tip of the hose away from Cassie’s asshole, and they all stood over her. “Turn over,” said Red, and Cassie did so, laying on her back, her body glistening with sweat, her blouse soaked through, her panties wadded around one knee. She sobbed softly to herself. Her hair was a tangled mess of dirty blonde sweat, but her eyes still burned a light and enchanting blue, even in the semi-darkness. The teenager was emotionally and physically exhausted, and now her body was unfurled in front of The Valkyrie like 16-year-old canvas upon which the brushstrokes of atrocity would find purchase. In such a state, Cassie looked as beautiful as she ever had, and that beauty was one reason that the bulges in the crotch regions of Valkyrie Black and Valkyrie Red were becoming more pronounced.

“Let me go first,” said Red, sliding down the zipper on the already-sparse front of her leather bikini bottom. “I’ll put her in her place.” Cassie only sobbed, resigned to the fact that these strange intruders meant to abuse her sexually.

“That’ll be fun to watch,” said Black. “Make her worship you.” Black reached out and slapped Valkyrie Red on the behind, causing one leather-encased buttock to jiggle slightly. To see her bounce was like watching fine art. “You know I can’t get enough of seeing you work.”

Cassie could do nothing but burst into fresh tears as Valkyrie Red stripped off her leather panties. As Cassie had feared, the scarlet woman had a huge, nasty cock- more than a foot long, wrist-thick, jutting out from a puffy spot just above her female parts. She had no balls, and so her sexy, moist slit was clearly visible- and already leaking fluid down the inside of one powerful thigh. Her cock began right where her clit ended, with a tiny bit of overlap between the two- the entrance to her pussy was, in fact, slightly overlapped with the base of her dick, causing it to bulge outward a little. It wasn’t just the size of Red’s member that caused Cassie to weep with despair, though- it was the appearance. Red’s meat was the nastiest, most disgusting uncut length of fuckmeat that Cassie could have ever imagined. Her boyfriend Evan had a nice, neat, circumcised pole, straight out of the penis textbook. This was nothing like that. The head of Red’s cock was hidden by a huge hood of flopping foreskin that looked like the back end of a stocking cap. It drooped down two inches or more from her cockhead and was glistening with sweat.

“Oh god,” groaned Cassie, putting her hands over her face. “No!” It wasn’t refusal, but disgust, that was in her tone. The young man with the video camera hovered over her and caught every bit of horrified emotion in his viewfinder.

“Good job, squire,” commented Valkyrie Black. “Make sure you catch her expression as she realizes every bit of her upcoming task.”

“Yes mistress,” said the young man, obediently. He zoomed in on Cassie’s face further.

“No!” wept Cassie, her body shuddering. “It’s sick!”

“Sick is prejudice, social sabotage, vindictiveness, willful destruction of the lives of innocents. Sick is the will to cause damage for one’s own satisfaction.”

Cassie turned her head and looked up from her bed at Valkyrie White, her blue eyes weary, another tear squeezing from the eye nearest the mattress and rolling down one puffy cheek to hang, glistening, from her chin. “And what the fuck do you call this?” she asked.

There was a creak of latex as Valkyrie White knelt down and brought her masked face to within one inch of Cassie’s. The 16-year-old’s eyes glistened with moisture as she stared, able to see her reflection in the filigreed surface. She shuddered and groaned with disgust as Valkyrie Red climbed onto the bed, crawling atop her…she could feel the large, sticky head of Red’s cock sliding up her leg, leaving a snail trail of liquid. She could feel the drag of one of Red’s big nipples drawing a line of sweat against her hot skin. Through the viewfinder of the camera, the “squire” caught it all on film- Valkyrie Red’s body, that athletic, cut, tattooed marvel, sliding over Cassie like a spider encircling her prey. When Red’s face reached the level of Cassie’s, she stuck out her tongue and licked wetly up the side of the girl’s face, devouring the tear that was about to drop.

Cassie moaned with disgust as she was licked. Valkyrie White held steady just inches away, and watched with satisfaction as Cassie’s young face exuded weary despair. Cassie could feel Valkyrie Red’s slick sweat dripping all over her young body. She was being coated with the smell of Red’s glistening, muscled form. “What do you call this?” she asked again, eyes desperate. Her voice was barely a whisper, all the strength in it was gone. She had exhausted every other defense, and now tried to shame her captors. To shame them with the foulness of their impending deeds.

“This,” replied Valkyrie White, “we call ‘justice’.”