I am pleased to finally share the sticky second half of the four part story,
Traffic Stopper. First up, Part III. Take an all-wheel drive rip with Spandex Lex and Agent Foxlea through the Louisiana swamps as they battle gruesome, grabby goons and girl-gobbling goop on their mission to stop a sadistic death cult…
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Traffic Stopper (Part III)-Rescue-
‘There’s one down here!’ hollered a masked FBI agent garbed in tactical gear, standing on the catwalk overlooking the large square pits of Madre Terra’s Pump House prison and punishment facility, ‘And another…and another.’
‘HEY!!’ screamed Spandex Lex frantically as thick, gooey quicksand swallowed her rapidly breathing chest. The lady in lycra was sinking agonizingly slow but had only moments left before being totally consumed by the bottomless ooze, ‘DOWN HERE!!’
‘One more in this one,’ observed the agent as he spied on the sinking superheroine unnecessarily through a night vision goggle. Becoming aware of her predicament in the pit, the tactical trooper tried to be reassuring with inane advice and redundant hand gestures, ‘Hang on ma’am, we’ll get you out of there. Just… try not to sink.’
‘Hang on to WHAT?!’ asked Lex hysterically, stranded hopelessly in the middle of the sucking death pit. The Leotard Lass whimpered desperately as she felt her shoulders slipping under the syrupy sand, ‘Um, HURRY!!’
Like day one at a busy fast food joint, there were people scurrying in every direction and not much being accomplished, specifically in regard to rescuing the disappearing damsel up to her neck in quicksand.
‘LEXY!!’ cried a young female voice from above. A cute, petite girl with strawberry blonde hair and sun kissed freckles was peeking over the top of the pit, in total shock after recognizing the familiar female caught in the consuming clag.
Lex gasped, covering her mouth to stifle an excited scream. Overcome with emotion, the trapped heroine began to cry with relief at the sight of a safe and sound Blake Mildmay.
‘Stay there!’ Blake ordered, offering advice that wasn’t much more helpful than the agent’s as she sprinted by him along the catwalk and out of sight.
‘I’m not going anywhere…’ reassured Lex grimly with a dash of dark humor, ‘…but down!’ Saturated sand crawled up the nave of the gooped gymnast’s neck provoking a mousy whimper.
‘Miss, I have to recommend that you…’ the agent cautioned Blake upon her swift return to the catwalk, before being silenced by the intrepid teenager lugging a length of garden hose.
‘DUFUCK OUTTA MY WAY, MAN!’ the tiny girl barked, shoving the FBI sentry to get to her beloved ‘Lexy.’ The gymnastics protege was herself wearing a violet and gold LSU leotard, and had even tied her hair into a neat bun with a pretty purple ribbon.
The adept athlete hastily tied one end of the hose to a large pipe snaking into the brick walkway. Tying the other end to her teeny little waist, the beautiful, brave freshman rappelled daringly down to the desperate damsel in the drenched dirt.
Blake’s flawlessly feminine, fitness-forged legs began to sink into the soft, soaked sand the instant they touched down at the bottom. She laboriously lurched forward in the thick, earthy soup toward Lex, who was up to her chin in the gobbling grit.
‘Blakey, no!’ whimpered Lex, concerned for her friend who was sinking and struggling to reach the Olympic star, ‘It’s too risky, sweetheart!’
‘You taught me how to take risks,’ rebutted Blake, trudging through the treacherous trap and reaching for Lex’s outstretched hands. The hose was taut and began to stretch as Blake leaned into her reach. Quicksand slurped at her firm thighs as her own weight pushed her knees under. ‘Ugh! This feels so icky!’ she muttered.
‘Try getting it in your leotard,’ scoffed Lex, as the perilous pudding puckered and pulled her deeper, ‘UHN! It’s sucking me under!’
It seemed as though the sinking spandex hero was too far and too deep to save as Blake tried in vane to connect to her trapped teammate. After some extra oomph and a few despairing cries by both anxious girls, Blake and Lex touched fingertips and pulled their hands together into an iron-clad wrist-lock.
Up to her waist and being sucked in as well, Blake heaved on her dear friend’s arms. The wee girl was much stronger than she appeared and Lex was in awe of the power exhibited by this rising star’s small, tight frame.
‘I got you,’ whispered Blake, as the quicksand squelched and slurped around their struggling bodies. Slowly, the junior college gymnast tugged and toiled to extract her mentor from the overwhelming liquid sand. The garden hose stretched and strained nerve-wrackingly under the weight of the two escaping athletes. She proudly repeated her accomplishment with every inch of Lex she pulled to safety, ‘I got you… I got you!’
Finally, Lex’s long legs broke the gooey grasp of the sinister slurry with an awful ‘SSSQLORP’ sound. The pair tearfully wrapped their arms around each other in an exhausted but relieved embrace at the end of a spent garden hose over a pool of fathomless bayou “peanut butter.”
‘Don’t worry,’ recommended a macho sounding agent from the catwalk, lowering a fancy rope ladder down to the sandy spandex sisters, ‘We’re gonna rescue you ladies.’
‘Thanks, but we’re good,’ replied Blake, rolling her eyes as Lex held her rescuer’s beautiful face to examine her. Bruises and bloodstains were apparent on the young girl’s face, evidence of harsh treatment by her Madre Terra captors.
Lex was the first to climb over the lip of the pit before turning to help her hero up to solid safety.
Federal agents were swarming around the Pump House. Men and women with ropes and ladders helped liberate the three remaining girls from their own subterranean cells. The trio of traumatized migrant women were as white as ghosts as agents and medical personnel attended to each of them as they rose up to ground level.
Lex locked eyes with one of the women who had been plucked from the pits. She appeared frightened and confused, but gave the sand covered superheroine a look of wonderment and gratitude. The pretty young dark haired girl appeared no older than twenty. She was wearing a floral printed dress eerily similar to the one worn by the poor girl in the pit next to Lex, who had been swallowed by Madre Terra’s sacrificial sinking sand.
‘Those animals,’ accused Lex while pointing out a particular pit to a nearby note-taking FBI agent, ‘They drowned a young woman in that hole. You need to get her out of there.’
The agent sighed. ‘Miss, we have reason to believe that all of these pits are cemeteries,’ he reflected solemnly, ‘We’ll do our best, I promise.’
The saddened spandex superhero turned her gaze to her cute little gymnast colleague who had dropped down next to her on the yellow bricked catwalk.
‘You stuck the landing perfectly,’ Lex congratulated with a wink, resting beside her courageous counterpart.
‘And you landed and got stuck perfectly!’ joked Blake, hugging Lex tight.
Blake giggled before breaking out into the LSU “Tiger Rag” cheer, in which Lex gladly participated with chants of ‘Where's that Tiger! Hold that Tiger!’ The friends sang and laughed gleefully and gratefully.
Lex shook her head in amazement, helping her athletic amigo wipe the gritty gunk from her legs. ‘How did you…?’ she asked without finishing her thought. The Leotard Lass didn’t even know where to begin, or if she should.
‘They grabbed me in the parking lot at the place I was supposed to be doing a photo shoot,’ commenced Blake voluntarily in a more somber tone, kneeling close to Lex and returning her helpful gesture by wiping the wet sand from her friend’s thin spandex suit.
‘They threw me in the trunk and drove like assholes to get here… wherever “here” is,’ continued Blake, taking the supportive hands of her fellow LSU Tiger in her own. ‘The next thing I know they’re stuffing me into one of those cells upstairs. They were being really rough with me up there,’ revealed Blake as she rubbed her cheek where a noticeable bruise had formed, ‘They started yelling at me about being unworthy and how they were going to deliver me to some “Mother” person.’
Blake’s eyes welled up with tears. She took a long, contemplative breath and squeezed Lex’s hands.
A pair of female FBI trauma counselors in black denim and protective vests who had been listening nearby had silently joined the gymnasts, taking a knee on the catwalk.
Blake smiled welcomingly at them and continued, ‘The two guys in the cell, the ones that grabbed me, they started touching me and… then they started jerking off. That’s when they…‘
The embarrassed junior gymnast paused and sighed deeply, closed her eyes and pushed through her story, ‘They started pulling off my leotard. I tried to stop them. They would just slap me around and get even more gross when I fought them. I figured out really quick that just letting them do whatever they wanted was way less painful. Some of the girls in the other cells sounded like they didn’t get catch on too quick. They got it way worse than I did.’ Tears trickled down Blake’s cheeks.
Lex’s eyes were also red with tears. She held her friend’s hands tenderly, trying to balance being supportive for Blake while fighting the urge to scream out loud with the utmost rage. The two girls looked into eachother’s eyes. They shared one another’s pain and pent up passion. They understood each other. They were both survivors.
‘Hey Lexy,’ asked Blake with her volatile voice quavering, very timidly and emotionally, ‘If it’s ok with you, can I just not be brave and strong for a sec, and we can just hug?’
‘Oh, sweetheart,’ consoled a heartbroken Lex, pulling close the tiny troubled teenager.
Blake’s sorrowful sobs burst out like a flood from a broken Louisiana levee in Lex’s arms. She wailed like a banshee. The haunting sound of her howling filled the Pump House, even spooking nearby FBI agents with the outburst of raw emotion.
‘Take all the time you need, ladies,’ offered one of the female counselors getting up and putting a hand on Lex’s shoulder, while she held her weeping friend, ‘When you feel up to it, we’d like to talk more.’
‘Don’t go,’ pleaded Blake, ‘I’m good, I’m good… I just needed a sec.’
‘Blakey, we don’t have to do this right now,’ suggested Lex.
‘Yes we do, Lexy,’ debated Blake, sniffling back her tears and wiping her eyes, ‘Those girl they took… they need us.’
‘I’m right here,’ comforted Lex in a whisper, for fear of releasing her own emotional tidal wave if she spoke at a higher volume, ‘We can stop anytime, sweetie.’
The brave Blake closed her eyes, took another deep breath and focused like she would before crushing a routine on the parallel bars.
‘After a couple days of those sickos coming after me I couldn’t take it anymore. I could see sunlight through the cracks in the ceiling in that ghetto-ass cell. I decided to make a move yesterday morning after they… after they left me alone. I jumped up and grabbed a wooden beam and kicked a few boards loose,’ explained Blake, wiping her eyes and bragging about her escape, ‘Then I slid out onto the roof and put the boards back. Those dummies looked for me like all day, all over the building, all over the swamp. Literally the only place they didn’t check was the roof.’
Blake looked right at the FBI counselors when she divulged some critical details, ‘Last night I watched those creeps load like eleven girls into a white school bus and drive away. There was lettering on its roof. It said “SHERIFF 2-18.” I didn’t dare move from up there, I just lied still and waited.’
One of the counselors wearing an FBI ball cap immediately plucked a two-way radio from her belt and began relaying the new findings to her colleagues.
‘And that’s where I stayed until I heard gunshots and saw cops or feds or somebody storming the place. That’s when came down and saw you Lexy, sinking in that icky goo.’ concluded Blake, a pleasant smile returning to her face as she glanced back at Lex.
Blake’s friendly grin suddenly turned to a look of perplexity. She turned the interview around, ‘By the way Lexy, what are YOU doing here?’
‘I came you save you, Blakey’ giggled Lex, smiling endearingly at her teammate.
‘How’d that work out for ya?’ teased Blake, sharing a laugh with the ambitious amateur superhero.
‘You sound just like… Fox!’ exclaimed Spandex Lex, her face suddenly looking serious as she turned to one of the agents.
‘Agent Foxlea, where is she?’ inquired the panicking heroine.
‘We don’t know,’ responded the female agent, ‘We thought she was inside with you. She dropped comms about an hour ago and we haven’t heard from her since.’
Lex’s heart sunk. ‘They’ve got her,’ she frowned worryingly. Her uncanny intuition began to tingle, ‘They’ve taken her to the Manse. I just know it.’
The FBI agent’s radio suddenly lit up with chatter about the apprehending of Madre Terra suspects aboard the white bus.
‘That was fast,’ quipped Blake in disbelief.
‘Apparently the bus came back here unaware that the building was being raided,’ disclosed the agent, mirroring the young athlete’s disbelief, ‘They drove right up to us. The vehicle with “2-18” on the roof and three suspects in custody are all outside.’
‘Are you up for identifying some goons, Blakey?’ asked Lex considerately.
Blake took a deep breath. ‘Sure I am,’ stepped up the bright eyed, freckled beauty, trying to be brave as Lex helped her to her feet…
The rear doors of the FBI paddy wagon opened to reveal three roughed up men in brown robes, looking like mobster monks. Each suspect was handcuffed with their arms behind their backs to the hard aluminum benches in the back of the prisoner van.
The ball capped counselor stood with her hands on Blake’s shoulders, calmly coaching her. ‘Miss Mildmay, can you identify any of these men?’
The petite athlete looked carefully at all three goons seated facing their feet. The one man sitting on his own on the right side slowly turned his threatening gaze up and met the eyes of the young girl.
The freshman frowned as resentful tears fell from her convicting eyes. ‘That’s one of them, on the right,’ pointed Blake courageously at one of her attackers, ‘He’s one of the men who kidnapped me. He’s one of the men who raped me.’
Blake covered her mouth, gasping at the sound of her own voice admitting that she had been sexually assaulted. The future Olympian had never imagined she’d ever hear herself saying those words. She shook her head, shocked by her own acceptance of the fact. She broke down and sobbed.
‘Thank you Blake,’ spoke the counselor softly, crouching down to comfort the crying gymnast whose face was in her hands. The two female agents helped the grieving girl to her feet and started to lead her away. ‘We’ll look after her,’ the one without the hat promised to Lex with a nod.
Lex hugged Blake tightly and kissed her cheek twice before she let the FBI take over. ‘Please do,’ requested Lex, ‘She’s the bravest girl I know.’
The Leotard Lass turned, trying to look pouty by biting her index finger, staring silently and sheepishly at the guard standing at the open doors of the van. ‘Five minutes,’ she pleaded.
‘No,’ said the FBI bouncer abruptly and staunchly.
‘Please,’ begged Lex with her hands folded, trying to reason with the stoic sentry, ‘Innocent girls are going to die. Special Agent Foxlea is going to die.’
The guard huffed, noticeably weighing the consequences in his mind for what seemed like an eternity. Lex waited patiently, batting her eyelashes and biting her lip, trying to look as pretty and delicate as possible. The men in the van began to fidget nervously.
‘I can get in huge shit for this,’ he warned, granting her request part way, ‘Three minutes. Get what you need and get the hell out of here.’
‘Yay!’ Lex cheered, jumping excitedly and hugging the grumbling guard, ‘Thank you so much!’
She entered the back of the van with the trio of Madre Terra murderers, dropping her cutie pie persona and fixed a dead pan glare at the hood identified by Blake. ‘Close the doors,’ frigidly ordered the spandex clad inquisitor. Against his better judgement the guard obeyed, sensing that this particular part of the deal wasn’t open for debate.
The alleged rapist squirmed in his restraints. He could barely find the courage to meet eyes with the beautiful, bold blonde slinking over to where he was benched.
The thug looked guiltily at the antsy men on the opposite side of the van instead of up at the frighteningly phantom-like female floating beside him. ‘All I’m telling you is what I told those other unworthy pigs,’ he snipped, shaking his head anxiously, ‘I’m not saying anything without my lawyer.’
Spandex Lex lifted her long leg provocatively over the man’s head. She planted it down beside his other hip, slowly and sensually arched her back and popped out her ass enticingly as she straddled him. She put her arms around his neck and licked her lips. The greasy goon tried to look tough, but was frozen with fear. Lex moved in as if to speak seductively in his ear.
The scary superheroine began to creepily hiss low and slow in a witch-like whisper, as she spitefully nibbled the monster’s earlobe, ‘Oh, you need to get it into your teacup that I don’t give an iota of a fuuuck about anything you have to say.’
The man began to breathe heavy with panic while witnessing his antagonist in a tight bodysuit reaching around her back to produce a small taser that was tucked up under her leotard…
At the three minute mark, the guard opened the back doors. A grinning girl in sandy spandex immediately popped out, beaming her attractive smile at the FBI agent stationed outside. ‘Thank you again, handsome,’ she expressed, giving the generous sentinel a gracious kiss on the cheek.
‘Did he talk?’ asked the tall guard in tactical gear looking pitifully at the mangled mess of humanity in the van.
‘Not a word,’ admitted the bouncing blonde as she skipped hastily away, ‘But the other two sang like Tegan and Sara.’
The confused guard wondered aloud, ‘Like who?…’
-Raid-
A convoy comprised of Madre Terra’s impounded, medium sized prisoner transporter and half a dozen black SUVs rumbled down Highway 1 toward White Castle, Louisiana. Its destination was a large plantation on the outskirts of Baton Rouge, on a piece of property sitting snug against the mighty Mississippi River.
Aboard the white bus was a squad of adrenaline charged FBI agents. Some, including the driver were draped in brown hooded robes resembling Madre Terra “monks”. All were armed and amped for a hostile storming of Madre Terra’s supposed headquarters codenamed “the Manse,” where scores of innocent women and girls were alleged to be held.
According to witness and prisoner testimony the remaining captive females at the Manse were to be condemned to death and sacrificed to Madre Terra’s damsel-devouring deity, “the Mother” on that very day, the longest day of the year, the Summer Solstice. This meant that the group of captured girls which included agent Foxlea would very soon be ritually drowned in quicksand.
Belle Lavoie Plantation House was an impressive 19th century structure with glowing white columns surrounding a stunningly scenic two story mansion. The giant historical household sat on a meticulously manicured multi-acre plot, lined with enormous willow trees and picturesque gardens.
The entire Belle Lavoie property was protected by a contingent of armed security guards and a nine foot concrete wall trimmed with barbed wire.
Special Agent Deborah Foxlea’s matte black Subaru Impreza skidded recklessly to a stop under the concealing branches of one of the willow trees adjacent to the east side of the property wall.
When the door opened they were not agent Foxlea’s legs that stepped out of the driver seat. The sensual stems belonged to an ambitious amateur superheroine, who grinded less gears than she had anticipated while teaching herself how to drive a stick shift on the way.
Spandex Lex’s shiny, hot pink leotard and matching mid-calf vinyl boots glistened in the morning sun as she examined her chosen fit for her mission. The eye catching activewear made the gutsy girl look and feel exactly like the confident, strong, sexy superhero she was aspiring to be.
There was no sense in attempting to slip into the compound incognito, she thought. The pretty pink protagonist’s daylight invasion was of a literal fortress, crawling with Madre Terra bad guys. She was bound to draw some attention no matter the type of spandex she chose to wear, or however sneakily she slinked around in it.
In fact attention was exactly what Lex wanted. The daring damsel had arrived ahead of the calvary of feds in hopes of diverting attention and disrupting the death cult’s sadistic sacrificial rituals long enough until help arrived. She thought if she could create some confusion and chaos on the Manse property she could hopefully buy some time and save some lives, including Fox’s.
‘Comin’ in hot,’ whispered the Leotard Lass as she took a deep breath and made quick work of scaling the low hanging limb of an old weeping willow. Lex maneuvered through the treetops with ease, finally jumping down and sticking a landing in her high heeled boots on the other side of the tall cement perimeter fence.
It didn’t take long for her to find trouble… rather for trouble to find her. Two not-so friendly looking Dobermans caught wind of the sneaky superheroine’s scented bodywash and were racing across the grounds to the area where the agile athlete had begun her trespassing.
Lex timed her recourse perfectly with the intercepting canines as she ran for a nearby garden shed. The hostile hounds followed fiercely, snarling and growling at the heels of the hasty heroine into the boxy little brick building. Their intended target swung back over their heads from the door frame and slammed the wooden hatch behind them. The pair of pooches were properly penned up by the pink perpetrator.
The canines’ commotion was heard by a pair of human sentries who had seen the dogs running and came sauntering over to investigate. The two Madre Terra brutes in brown coveralls looked as thick as the bricks of the garden shed, as they quite literally scratched their heads trying to figure out how the dogs had shut themselves inside.
The larger of the daft duo circled around the vine covered shack looking for whatever might have triggered the Dobermans. By the time he made a full circle, a girl in a tight, skimpy pink suit was standing over the unconscious heap that was his partner.
‘Uh oh! It looks like you’ve caught me!’ proclaimed the pretty pink prowler in a matter of fact tone, putting on a phony look of concern with her hands on her hips.
The large man shakily lifted his 9mm pistol.
‘Safety’s on,’ Lex noted, pointing to the gun.
The guard looked down at his sidearm. Before he could even find the locking mechanism, Spandex Lex had leapt onto his shoulders and was cutting off the blood and oxygen supply to his brain with her powerful thighs around his fat neck. As the massive man’s body crumpled to the pristinely pampered sod he let out a fart that sounded like a sad trombone before passing out.
Involuntarily giggling at the frumpy man’s farewell flatulence, Lex eased her python grip on the sleeping giant’s neck before wiping his drool and snot bubbles off her legs. ‘Toots are funny!’ the silly superheroine tee-hee’d, rolling her smiling eyes.
She wisely dismantled both of the goons’ Glock pistols while eyeing up the guard house by the Belle Lavoie front entrance, at the south end of the property. Scattering pieces of handguns, Lex headed steadfast for the immense rod iron gate.
‘What the absolute fuck…’ cussed the Madre Terra security guard at the front gate as the beautiful blonde in her flashy little pink suit approached the guard house with a skip in her step.
‘Pardon me,’ requested the lovely lycra-clad lady as she poked her pretty face through the door of the stuffy little guard hut, ‘Do you happen to know the time of day?’
The tall, lanky sentinel loathingly gnashed his teeth and growled, ‘Time for you to pay for your unworthiness!’ With a snap of his wrist the twiggy trooper produced a lengthy retractable baton, with live electrodes that crackled and hummed at its tip.
‘For real?! Oh em gee!’ Lex groaned, rolling her eyes as the guard charged at her with his shiny black cattle prod, ‘I literally gave you a gift and that’s the best “evil henchman” comeback you could think of?!’
The agile athlete swiftly sidestepped to avoid the angry attacker, who barreled out the door and past his prey with the grace of a falling tree.
‘You could have dropped a sick line like “It’s pain o’clock, BITCH!” or something,’ Lex suggested, ducking to avoid another thrust from her agitated adversary.
‘Instead you hit me with mediocre “meh”?’ she patronized as she tripped up the slim sleazebag and sent him tumbling into the dirt laneway in front of the closed gate.
Suddenly, two huge hands grabbed Lex’s arms from behind and pulled her backward into the body of an enormous man who seemingly appeared out of nowhere.
‘Time’s up, you puny little pink pest,’ snarled the hairless, muscular monster with a curled mustache in earth tone brown coveralls. The brawny, bald brute held the heroine’s arms with imprisoning tightness.
‘Now that’s better,’ Lex complimented her captor somewhat critically as she struggled in the man’s devious clutches, ‘Still (ugh!) mid, but (uhn!) much better.’
Meanwhile Lanky had rose to his oversized feet and was running infuriatingly at the captured crime fighter, winding up his buzzing baton to take a punishing swing at her vulnerable midsection.
At the last second, the hindered heroine jumped, lifting her legs high over her head. The swinging security guard connected with the full force of his projecting prod, smashing into the groin of the bald baddie and injecting next level pain into his genitals. The muscly man howled like a wolf as he let go of the tiny girl in his grasp and fell face first into the dirt, clutching his mistreated manhood.
The spindly sentry grew even more incensed at his gaff and lunged screaming at the cunning cutie that had outwitted him.
The patient opponent in pink waited for her attacker’s swinging arm to come down before she snatched it like a praying mantis. She used her momentum to roll the contesting couple onto the ground. The limber Lex administered a limb lock with her legs, applying immense pressure with leverage to the guard’s shoulder as she yanked his forearm with her upper body. With an unpleasant ‘POP’ that sounded like a tennis racket spiking a serve, Spandex Lex separated Lanky’s arm from its socket.
Writhing in agony, the guard dropped the electro-baton and grasped his limp limb. With an amazing show of resilience that surprised Lex, the guard almost immediately hopped to his clown-sized feet after producing a switchblade from the opposite thigh pocket of his cargo pants. He activated the blade and threw himself suicidally at the superhero in shiny spandex, almost catching her off guard.
Lex parried and countered with another arm lock, taking them once again to the ground and unapologetically dislocating his remaining good arm. The incapacitated guard laid bellowing in anguish, both of his useless arms dangling like wet noodles on either side of him.
The Leotard Lass brazenly lifted the suffering sentry’s wristwatch arm to check the time. ‘Tick tock, it’s dipshit o’clock!’ spouted the vengeful vixen, proud of her winning one-liner.
After putting to sleep and packing up the pair of Madre Terra doormen, Lex turned the key on the guard house control panel to open the gate. When the rod iron frames were completely open, Lex broke the key with a sure kick of a hot pink boot heel. She then crassly climbed over the snoozing pile of goons that she had zip tied together on the floor of the cramped little guard shack and broke the door handle off before locking the bad guys inside.
Lanky’s watch had said 11:41am. High noon and the arrival of the FBI’s strike force was imminent. There was no time to look for a less conspicuous way in, thought Lex as she executed her bold entrance right through the front doors of the Belle Lavoie Plantation House. The place was eerily vacant. No greasy, gun-toting goons, no helpless captives, no sacrificial sinking. It was so quiet Lex could hear the ticking of a grandfather clock somewhere on the second level.
‘Bonjour?’ greeted the blonde beauty, hearing her Cajun call echoing through the grand hall and up the broad, beautiful bifurcated staircase of the empty estate mansion.
Spandex Lex’s special intuition had been strangely improving over the past few months. She could hone in on a nearby presence with uncanny certainty if she concentrated. At that moment her psychic senses were telling her that she was not the only soul in the spooky villa. However it eerily suggested that she was most definitely the only one occupying a living, breathing body. She shivered at the notion.
‘Where is everyone?’ asked the lone lady in lycra to anyone living or otherwise. A rogue breeze swept throughout the large house, blowing around corners and door frames, causing haunting harmonics in hollow hallways and curtains to flutter like phantoms of fabric. The sound of a screen door clanking in the wind alerted Lex to the north side of the mansion at the other end of the pantry.
Peering through the unlatched screen, Lex could see the tower tops and battlements of a castle-like structure looming through the swamp trees in the distance. ‘There you are,’ she whispered, getting a more tangible vibe of “living” souls as she approached the rear exit, ‘I’m coming, Fox.’
The determined damsel paused as she opened the creaky screen door to Belle Lavoie’s back yard. ‘Thank you… Merci,’ Lex expressed gratefully to the historic house behind her and perhaps its former inhabitants.
A cool breeze seeped over her shoulders from inside the house and whistled lightly in her ears like ghostly breath. She shuddered as the hairs on her neck suddenly and intuitively stood on end. She dared not turn around to look as she made her way out of the doorway and onto the dirt lane in the direction of the Mississippi River, and the sinister looking structure beyond the trees.
The laneway lead to a ring of massive magnolias surrounding the enormous building near the banks of the Mississippi River that resembled of all things, a huge sand castle. The surreal looking structure was crafted with giant sandstone blocks and mammoth lengths of timber. the medieval looking mega-mansion featured several cone shaped towers and an imposing outer wall complete with battlements that loomed over a surrounding moat.
The castle was impenetrable by land, save for a gargantuan wood and iron, medieval style draw bridge. The colossal door could be lowered to span the width of the deep and deceptive looking defensive trench that encircled the complex.
The Leotard Lass stopped at the edge of the moat and looked at the bottom, which she guessed was several meters down at its deepest point. ‘Quicksand,’ whispered Lex, examining the fluid, treacherous looking terrain in the trench. The gritty goo belched hideously far below the heroine as if blowing her an inviting kiss. ‘Yuck,’ she detested. Lawd knows how deep that Mississippi mud was.
The sand castle was a work in progress, and was still quite obviously a construction site. Piles of stone, lengths of timber, stacks of skids, rebar and concrete forms were scattered around the perimeter. Parked near the trees were several construction vehicles, including a pair of skid steers, a backhoe, a giant excavator and a crane.
Lex’s intuition began to vibrate with shocking clarity. It was the most intense psychic sense she had felt yet. She was picking up on feelings of great fear, uncertainty, pain and despair from multiple sources. She was also becoming aware of something very dark and sinister. Something like greed, resentment, lust and anger. It was evil. It was all emitting from the inside the sand castle. People were suffering… and dying.
The spandex superhero felt intuitively that she needed to somehow get inside that castle, and fast. The big draw bridge lacked a door knocker, she observed. Looking around at the construction equipment, Lex wondered if she could make her own…
-Ritual-
Deborah Foxlea’s blindfold was removed around the same time the effects of the sedative that was forced onto to her had started to dissipate. The groggy FBI agent slowly and solemnly began to take stock of her situation on shaky legs. She was in a line of ten or eleven female prisoners, each flanked by a robed guard. Two hooded henchmen were on either side of Fox. They were corralled in the courtyard of some sort of stone walled compound, and were being forced to face a wide, swimming pool-sized pit in the middle of the open space.
The crudely constructed crevasse was freakishly formed in the shape of a giant mouth. The rounded boulders of the raised opposite edges were fashioned and fixed to look like humungous human lips. Thin, pointed rocks jutted out of the narrow spaces between, resembling gnarly, gnashing teeth. Reaching out over the middle of the perverse pit was an oval platform that was cleverly and creepily carved into an enormous tongue. Just below the peculiar plank was the curious content of the pit: saturated, soaking wet sand… idle, ominous, awaiting.
A handful of additional armed and hooded Madre Terra thugs surrounded the pit, standing stoically like statues. Presiding on a stone block beside a video camera on a tripod overlooking the captives from the opposite side was a man whom Fox presumed was the Master of Ceremonies.
The robed procession leader raised his arms portentously as two hooded thugs lead the first girl to the edge of the platform over the sand. The brown haired female’s hysterical screaming had forced her captors to humiliatingly gag her with a torn off strip of her dress in order to ‘Shut her up,’ as ordered by the Madre Terra cult “high priest” perched on his cobbled cube.
The group of captured young women and teenage girls stood watching nervously as the ritual began. Fox squirmed uncomfortably. These poor girls have no idea what’s about to happen, she thought.
‘Daugher of man, behold your deliverance! Returneth thee into the Mouth of the Mother!’ chanted the creepy hooded priest, as he signaled for the henchmen to deposit the frantic girl into the awaiting sand pit. The pair of men flung the barefoot girl off the curved oval outcrop with extreme disregard, as if she was simply a sack of rubbish.
The gorgeous gagged girl in the tattered white sundress landed awkwardly on her bound hands and knees in the sand, as the platform behind her rumbled and retracted back to the pit’s edge. The sand heaved and rippled beneath her as if she was bobbing on a blanket of stretchy silt over some sort of fluid.
As the whimpering woman tried to stand her shapely, tanned legs broke through the damp dirt surface and plunged into a thick, sandy syrup beneath. The line of girls at the edge of the pool gasped and cried fretfully, watching with horror as the poor girl began to sink into what could only be construed as quicksand.
‘Oh Mother, oh Mother! Accept this offering. May your gullet be sated. May you be nourished by the fair flesh of this precious child.’ recited the priest enthusiastically, with his arms still raised. The trapped girl screamed pitifully through her gag as the slurping substance sucked down her struggling legs.
Helplessness encased the weak and wary Fox. She and the other captives could do nothing as they watched the doomed, diaphanous damsel in the white dress flailing frantically, up to her hips and sinking out of sight in a sadistic sand trap.
The prisoners’ yelping and crying from the line increased in volume as the sand sucked down the sinking girl’s writhing midsection and defiantly pushing arms. Her struggling was only sinking her further, and faster. Soon, her convulsing chest was plunging below the sandy sludge.
She screamed in terror along with several of her fellow detained damsels as quicksand eventually oozed suffocatingly in over her face, burying her completely in the pit.
As the stirred silt settled, the only visual signs of any struggle were a few errant bubbles burping at the surface. The pretty girl in the white dress was gone, gobbled down into a gritty, goo filled grave. Before long the sand was still and silent. The only sound was the wailing of some of the imprisoned asylum seekers, distraught by the twisted and torturous termination they had just been forced to witness.
The two platform guards bookended another panicking prisoner as the tongue-shaped platform slowly extended back out over the quicksand pit. Madre Terra was ceaselessly continuing their assembly line of evil, intent on disposing of desperate damsels on an industrial scale.
The next offering was a beautiful, begging blonde girl in a teeny-weeny, tight yellow tank top, deliciously dainty denim “Daisy Duke” shorts and high heeled platform sandals being dragged out to the edge of the plank. She pleaded in perfect English, claiming to be American in a futile attempt to avoid the foregone fate of the foreign females she shared the line with. Nothing the lovely girl could say in any language would save her from Madre Terra’s thirst for sacrifice.
As Fox felt her strength returning she wrestled with her shady chaperones. The pair of guards containing her tightened their grip on the agent’s arms.
How horrific this peril was for these girls she thought, being forced to watch as one by one they were dumped into their diabolical demise. How terrifying it must have been for each and every one of them as they submitted to the frightening realization that it would inevitably be their turn to sink in the awful quicksand. It was precisely the flavor of horror that the death cult was trying to cultivate.
As the high priest recited another chant and the thugs plopped another pleading prisoner into the perilous pool, the faint sound of buzzing caught Agent Foxlea’s attention. She knew exactly what was creating the noise as she looked up to see an FBI drone hovering high overhead. Fox sighed with relief. Help was going to arrive… hopefully sooner than later.
By the time the surveilling spy boy had zipped away beyond the sand castle walls, the blonde girl in the goo was frantically watching her thighs disappear as she wiggled and pulled at her stuck and sinking teenage legs.
‘Please don’t kill me! I won’t call the cops if you just let me go! I won’t call them, I swear!’ begged the bawling blonde girl as the sucking sand steadily swallowed her attractive young body, ‘I’m only eighteen! Please! I’m from Barstow!’ Her futile appeals were heart-wrenching. No amount of desperate adjuring would save her.
A hooded thug near Fox aggressively coerced one of the cowering dark haired women to watch the sinking girl’s peril. He threatened in fluent Spanish to throw her in next if she didn’t open her eyes to witness the sickening, asphyxiating end of the breast deep blonde.
Halfway down the line another of the cloaked cult monsters was bent over slapping awake a barefoot young woman in a ripped Hello Kitty t-shirt and skimpy panties who had fainted on the dusty floor of the fright-filled fort.
The situation was madness. Foxlea was dizzy with disgust and despair as she painfully observed the perishing prisoner’s plight. If her fellow feds didn’t hurry she thought, the only ones left in this goddam feindish funhouse would be the Madre Terra brown hoods.
Another final scream shrieked from a drowning victim as she succumbed to the sinking sand; another chorus of cries cooed from the remaining women who would soon experience the same gruesome fate. The tongue plank crept out once again over the insatiable sand of the Mother’s Mouth, in preparation for yet another offering.
Fox couldn’t take seeing anymore innocent fems being fed to the filthy fathoms. As the guards grabbed another ill-fated girl, the FBI agent fought her flanking foes with shin kicks and knees to groins. Her gag fell from her mouth as she cussed at the men in the compound, ‘Hey assholes! Untie me and I’ll give you a real show! Fucking COWARDS!!’
Two more guards responded to Fox’s defiance with a couple of swift, stern jabs to her solar plexus, that doubled her over in extreme discomfort. One of the recovering creeps yanked her head back violently by her ponytail and clutched her throat.
‘You seem as though you’re in a hurry to die today, daughter of man,’ assumed the high priest candidly. This troublesome tramp in black spandex was killing the ambience with her insolence, he pondered.
‘Go fuck your hood,’ spat Fox in response, resisting the pile of guards that were mauling her.
‘So be it,’ announced the Madre Terra MC, considering it better to rid of her right away lest she stoke any ideas of collective resistance among the fearful females, ‘Throw her in next.’
The guards dragged Fox’s rebelliously battling body out to the edge of the platform. Without waiting, the terrible troops hurled the helpless heroine into the sand. One of the goons who had received a ball-smashing knee from the agent waved spitefully as the platform retracted away.
As the high priest began his wretched religious rant, Fox could already feel her legs sinking as she knelt in the saturated silt. The unsteady sand shifted and quivered around her calves as they vanished in the consuming quagmire. The imperiled agent dared not struggle. Slowly, the sand took her body, dragging her thighs inch by inch into the death pit. ‘Light as a feather,’ Fox whispered, direly trying to conjure weightlessness. The longer she could stay above the surface she surmised, the more time she could buy for these poor girls awaiting their sticky sentence.
Staring down at the borrowed spandex shorts hugging her descending hips, Fox thought of Lex. ‘I did my best, Lia,’ she atoned as the unforgiving ground gulped her down to her waist, ‘I only ever wanted to do right by you, sweet girl.’
‘Oh Mother, oh…’ trailed off the priest, part way through his prayer as his gaze wandered up to the battlements over the draw bridge behind the procession, ‘…Oh fuck.’
The huge bucket of an excavator was swinging haphazaedly around over the castle like the head of some great big, pissed off iron dragon. The shifting shovel careened into the stone blocks straddling the catwalk, sending smashed rock and debris flying into the courtyard.
One of the falling blocks dropped onto an unfortunate Madre Terra monk, expiring him instantly.
The sinking Fox gasped as a low flying FBI helicopter suddenly buzzed over the battlements. Madre Terra goons clenched their firearms and looked skyward, not knowing which direction to point their muzzles. The cultists and their captives were stunned.
Two guards raced up the narrow stairs to the catwalk above the courtyard as the excavator smashed through one of the sand castle’s towers. One of the cult monks immediately shimmied down in haste after peering over the wall. The other began urgently waving his arms and yelling something to the high priest, barely audible under the whooping of the circling chopper’s blades overhead.
‘IT’S A RAID!!’ screeched the hood to the Madre Terra monks below, just before the metal jaws of the excavator bucket came crashing into him, sending him flying off the stone castle wall and more or less bellyflopping onto the solid floor of the courtyard far below.
‘Vigilantics,’ whispered the sinking Agent Foxlea, with a very short list of “suspects” in mind that could possibly be operating the construction machinery that recklessly.
Hooded goons began abandoning their posts and their prisoners en masse. Thugs scurried to the draw bridge, hurrying to lower the monstrous door over the moat to escape the compound. The high priest could do nothing upon his stone pulpit but watch the order of his ritual and his cult dissolve into chaos.
Quicksand lapped at Agent Foxlea’s sinking breasts as she smiled vengeful at the hooded host. The perturbed priest merely glared back loathingly while packing up his camera and exiting stage left.
She was content to reside to her fate knowing that the terror group she had chased for so long was perhaps finally being shut down. Despite her probable quicksand quietus, Fox was oddly content. She reveled in the comfort that no other girls after her may ever be enslaved or sacrificed again by Madre Terra. Mountains of evidence and prosecutions would inhibit the death cult from reorganizing and terrorizing women and girls from now on, Fox figured. She closed her eyes, and peacefully awaited the quicksand’s final sucking slurps of her trapped body.
The rumbling of the extending tongue-shaped platform could be heard behind the vanishing Fox amid the commotion of escaping goons, gunshots and a hovering helicopter. Were the Madre Terra monks disposing of the remaining damsels? Was the high priest coming out to give a personal send off to the doomed FBI agent?
‘This seat’s taken,’ Fox joked to whoever was approaching from behind her, as her chin dipped into the gooey liquid sand that was almost finished devouring her.
‘Um, you can keep those Docs by the way,’ responded Spandex Lex, referring to the borrowed Dr. Martens boots that were laced to Fox’s legs deep in the death trap.
‘Lex!’ gasped the disappearing Deborah, elated at the sound of her young muse’s voice. Although she couldn’t see her, she instinctually offered up her tied wrists to her superhero savior.
‘I’m going to get you out of there, hun,’ promised the Leotard Lass as she reached for her friend while trying not to fall in herself, ‘Grab hold of me!’
Fox cried out as her face slipped under the quicksand at the very moment her bound hands connected to Lex’s outstretched arm. The powerful athlete used all her muscle to pull the sunken special agent toward the platform. The suction of the sand was up against the strength of the superhero in an epic battle over Fox’s helpless body.
The quicksand had won all of its battles so far that afternoon, but Lex would not settle for anything less than a “dubyah.” She determinedly heaved her friend’s body up onto the solid, sandless safety of the platform, denying Madre Terra of its final sacrifice and the Mother of her final meal.
‘What on earth were you doing in there?’ Lex asked cheekily, while helping with Fox’s binds.
‘Saving girls from a death cult,’ answered the sand soaked Fox in a matter-of-fact tone, kneeling beside her pretty crime fighting partner on the massive mock tongue plank.
‘How’s that working out for ya?’ teased Lex, giving the gritty girl a wink and a wry smile as she removed her friend’s restraints.
‘Touché,’ whispered Fox, wrapping her arms around Lex the moment they were free, and kissing her rescuer’s cheek, ‘Thank you sweetie.’
Fox caught a glimpse of the high priest slithering along the sandstone wall and making a break for the dust shrouded draw bridge. ‘That asshole in the hood,’ she stated, pointing at the castle’s large doorway, ‘He’s the cult leader. His video camera is loaded with evidence. We have to stop him.’
A stray bullet from some unseen gun fight ricocheted off the stone floor behind them, close to the group of huddled female captives who were left to fend for themselves.
‘I’ll get that goon,’ offered Lex, helping Fox to her borrowed boot heels, ‘Get these ladies outta here.’
‘Play safe,’ advised Fox, pulling Lex into a hurried but heartfelt kiss before shoving her back toward their fleeing foe.
The Leotard Lass gave chase, ignoring her own intuitive sense that was screaming out a warning at her amid all the chaos. There was no time to fret over the extremely likely possibility that she was running into a trap…
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