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Subject: {ASSM} Gillian Anderson's Membership Fee ( viol, snuff, m/f tort } REPOST
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Date: Tue, 18 Mar 2008 17:10:02 -0400
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"What IS this place, David?" Gillian asked with a nervous laugh.
"It's a very exclusive club. I'm applying for membership, and I was
hoping you might be able to help me get in."

"It doesn't look very exclusive," she complained. They walked quickly
through a dark alley.

"Trust me, it is. This is just to keep the paparazzi away." They came
to an unmarked door, which David opened. Behind the door was a flight
of dimly lit stairs.

"David, are you sure about this?"

"Positive," he assured her. "After you, my dear."

Gillian descended the stairs tentatively. Her black heels clicked
softly against the wooden steps. At the bottom of the staircase was
another door, which she opened without being asked to do so. She
stepped through the doorway, into another world.

The difference between inside and outside could not have been more
marked. Gillian found herself in what appeared to be a very high-class
lounge or restaurant, softly lit, tastefully decorated. The walls were
paneled in teakwood; the carpet was thick, dark and lush.

"Good evening, Ms. Anderson. Good evening, Mr. Duchovny." The maitre
d' was short and immaculately dressed. "This way, please." He led them
to a small, round table next to a large stage. A red linen tablecloth
and a tiny oil lamp decorated the table. The maitre d' held Gillian's
chair for her as she sat down. He gestured to a passing waiter, who
veered towards them with a tray of drinks. The waiter did not ask them
what they wanted, but simply selected a drink for each of them.

"The show will start in about half an hour," the maitre d' informed
them, and left with a small bow.

Gillian looked at her drink. "Vodka Collins. My favorite! David,
you're so sweet." She took a long sip. "Nice place."

"Yeah. It's really hard to get into. But a lot of the members are big
fans of yours, so I thought that bringing you might improve my
chances. Thanks for coming, Gil."

"Don't mention it." Gillian's tight black skirt stretched to the limit
of its abilities as she crossed her short, shapely legs. Her black
jacket fell open to reveal a clinging, grey silk blouse. David glanced
at her firm, natural breasts. They were quite large for such a small
girl--Gillian was only five foot two--and they nicely rounded out her
tiny, compact body.

Gillian took another sip of her drink and glanced around the room. Men
in expensive suits sat at small, round tables, drinking and talking.
Suddenly a startling truth dawned on her: "David, I'm the only woman
here!"

"Right. Sorry, I forgot to mention: this is a men's club. They made a
special exception for you. Like I said, they're all big fans."

"Oh, David. A men's club? That's so nineteenth century."

"I know. This one's a little different, though," he declared
enigmatically.

"How's that?"

"You'll see."

She set her drink down suddenly; part of it splashed onto the table.
"David, I feel a little funny..."

"I'm not surprised."

"What do you...oh, God, what was in that?" she asked, suddenly
terrified. "Lots of fun stuff. A nice little aphrodisiac. A healthy
dose of LSD. Oh, and a little bit of sodium pentathol, to make you
more...cooperative."

"You son of a bitch...you drugged me?" she gasped.

"I had to," he explained. "Trust me, Gillian. It's better this way.
Even a talented actress like you is bound to get stage fright in a
place like this."

"I don't..."

He lifted her chin, looked into her eyes. They were deeply dilated.
"Oh, yeah. You're ready. Let's go, girl!" He grabbed her wrists,
pulling her roughly out of her chair. Applause filled the room.

Gillian staggered forward. David slipped an arm around her waist and
guided her towards the stage. "That's it, Gil. You're doing fine."

"What are you doing to me, David?" she asked. Her voice was sleepy.

"Just letting you do what comes naturally: perform." They managed to
make it up the steps and onto the stage. Gillian was wobbling
slightly, but David kept a tight hold on her waist.

"I feel really warm...oh, David, I'm scared..."

"Don't worry, Gil. You're doing great. Come on, let's get your clothes
off." He began to tug insistently at her jacket.

"What? No, please...what are you doing, David?"

"You said you were feeling warm. Come on, Gil. You'll feel better once
you get out of your clothes. It's so hot and stuffy in here."

"So hot," she repeated, and closed her eyes. The jacket came away
easily.

"Good girl. Now hold your arms up."

"What? Oh, OK..." The drugged actress raised her hands slowly; David
lifted her blouse over her head. The audience cheered at the sight of
her round, meaty breasts. Sheathed in a lacy white bra, they showed
admirable cleavage. The bra opened in the middle; David unhooked it
and lifted it away. Gillian's small red nipples were much harder than
the temperature of the room warranted.

"Why don't you take your skirt off now, Gillian?" David suggested,
eyeing her erect nipples.

Gillian giggled like a drunken co-ed. "What for? Are you gonna fuck
me, David? Is that what kinda show this is?"

"Yes, you could say that." He waited to see if she would offer any
protest. But the drugs were doing their work admirably. Her hands
reached unsteadily for the zipper. She unzipped the skirt with minor
difficulty, letting it fall down around her ankles.

"Now the panties," David commanded, confident of her obedience.

"Can't believe you're doing this to me," she murmured, as she ran her
thumbs under the straps of her white g-string. "Oh, God..."

"That's it, Gillian. Just relax and go with it." The panties inched
down her sleek, slender hips, revealing curly red pubic hair. There
were whistles from the audience as Gillian dropped her g-string. She
was now naked except for her black leather heels.

"Good girl. Now raise your arms again, and close your eyes."

She smiled nervously. "What are you gonna do to me?" she asked, her
voice thick and husky.

"I'm going to tie you up," he replied. A pair of leather restraints
descended from above on a winch.

"Ooh, kinky!" she giggled. He buckled the straps tightly around her
wrists.

"Spread your legs for me, Gil."

"Oh, David, you don't know how long I've waited to hear you say
that..." He spread her legs until her feet were about a meter apart,
then used another pair of leather straps to secure her ankles to the
stage.

He touched her red curls; they were dripping. "Stuff really works," he
murmured. "OK, Gil, you're ready. Enjoy!"

"Oh, yes, David...fuck me...let's give these guys the best show
they've ever seen!" Her breathing was rapid, her eyes dilated.

"All right, Gil," he replied with a chuckle. A thin steel spike was
rising slowly out of the stage. David grabbed Gillian's hips, holding
her in place above its sharp tip.

"Can I open my eyes yet?" she whispered.

"No, not yet." The tip of the spike vanished into her red curls, and
then into her.

Her eyes snapped open. "Oh! David, that isn't you..."

"No. Goodbye, Gillian."

"Goodbye? David, what...?"

"It's a dildo, Gillian. A nice, hard steel cock. Fuck the cock,
Gillian. Fuck it."

"It's kinda sharp..." she protested.

 "I know. Go nice and slow." As the fascinated crowd watched,
Gillian's lithe body began to move up and down on the pole. She
whimpered softly, her hips rocking back and forth as she fucked the
spike. Her drug-induced movements were languid and unhurried, but that
only made her self-impalement twice as erotic.

"Doesn't that feel good, Gil?"

"Mmm hmm." Her eyes were closed. She bit her lower lip. Her breasts
jiggled as she bounced gently on the pole. "I wish it was your cock,
David...but it feels good."

David reached up and cupped her breast. His fingers came together,
pinching her nipple. She gasped. With his other hand he reached down
into her thick bush. Locating her clit, he began to massage it gently
with his middle fingertip.

"Oh, yes, David...oh, Jesus, yes..." She began to fuck the spike
faster now, though she was careful not to thrust it too deeply into
herself.

Her bright red lips parted slightly. "Oh, God," she gasped. And then
she screamed a scream of pure release. "Oh, thank you, David," she
gasped.

"Thank YOU, Gil." David grinned, removing his hands from her body.

"Oh! David, it's still moving! Oh! Please, David, it's too deep! It
hurts!" Suddenly Gillian's feet left the floor. The leather straps
held fast, keeping her heels near the stage as the prod thrust up into
her.

She was screaming a very different scream now. "Oh, God! It's so
sharp...oh, David, it's hurting me! Make it stop, David, please!"

There was a wet tearing sound, and Gillian's screams changed in tone.
The spike shot up into her abdomen. Blood trickled out of her red
curls and ran down the steel shaft.

David stepped back. There was a soft hissing sound, and Gillian's taut
belly began to swell.

David turned to the audience. "Gentlemen, I submit my application for
membership in the Hollywood Snuff Club. A thick rubber balloon has
just emerged from the end of the spike. It's filling with water,
inflating slowly inside Gillian's abdominal cavity."

Gillian howled wildly as her belly swelled, but no identifiable words
passed her lips. Her sleek, slim body thrashed in its bonds, muscles
rippling as she fought. Over a period of about ten minutes, Gillian's
belly simulated the various stages of pregnancy: first the tiny bulge
of recent impregnation, then a larger roundness, until at last she
looked like a swollen sow about to drop. Gillian's tortured cries
reflected the fact that her skin had stretched around her massive
belly bulge in minutes rather than months.

At last her belly stopped expanding. Her screams died down to soft
whimpers. Tears stained her pale cheeks. David touched her navel. The
skin was incredibly tight; her abdomen seemed ready to burst.

Wistfully, David stepped away. The spike began to withdraw from
Gillian's cunt, pulling the inflated water balloon with it. Her
whimpers became howls once more. Slowly the massive bulge moved from
her belly into her womb as Gillian gave birth. Her slender body
twitched in agony as her twat stretched. The bottom of the balloon
emerged from her gaping pussy; her blood had painted it bright red.
Little by little the balloon came out of her. The withdrawal was
tortuously slow. And then all at once the balloon's equator emerged.
Now it withdrew quickly, and there was something behind it.

Gillian's intestines spilled easily out of the vast hole where her
twat had been. They followed the water balloon down to the floor.
Gillian managed to open her eyes a little. She stared down at her
warm, wet guts, her lips twitching. She was beyond all screams now.

She received a standing ovation. David bowed for her as her leather
straps grew painfully tight, stretching her dying body. She lasted
another fifteen minutes, and during that time she was, perhaps, in as
much pain as a woman can be.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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