House Party (Pt1)

**johnsmith2007** · June 12th, 2009, 09:06 AM

House Party (Pt1)

Violence, death, brutality and reality TV, what else do you want from a story??
Well the end might be good, but unfortunately it?s been lost on my defunct PC, but if you guys like this enough I might try and write it again.

Martin sauntered up the front stairs of the large three story mansion, turned to waive to the cameraman and then opened the large red front door.

?Three time returnee, New Yorker, Martin Kline is after his first win at ?House Party?, he has reached the last four on two occasions, but did not take part last season due to surgery on his spine.? The bastard anchorman went on to give graphic details of his beating. He would like to see that shit of a fake pro wrestler risk it all in the ?House?. The imitation plantation home was actually on a film lot in Hollywood, and Martin guessed had at least thirty plus rooms. He tried to work out how many competitors there would be, probably at lest twenty, as well as some nasty tricks and surprises as usual to keep the jaded watching public amused. The voice of the continuity girl guided him to the back of the building and into a large dinning area, and then he heard the click as the door locked behind him.

He was left in silence for another fifteen minutes; he followed each dragging sixty seconds on the large grandfather clock. Other competitors would be posing for their publicity shots and then chat with the anchors for their one minute of fame, before entering the four walls that could easily be their tomb. He had spotted what he wanted as weapons within the first few minutes, but was prohibited from grabbing them until the buzzer sounded to start the game. When he had first watched ?House Party?, HP to its friends, it had indeed been a game, and then when the TV and Violence laws had changed with the Supreme Court ruling on individual freedom of choice ?Maiming and Murder? sub clause, everything had changed. The continuity girl gave him the one-minute warning and he slipped off his silk dressing gown, gave the hidden camera behind the wall mirror a big grin as he flexed his biceps and then stroked his semi erect eight-inch cock as like all the other competitors he would be fighting naked except for his lightweight wrestling boots.

At the buzzer he heard the door lock click open, but he was already waiting by the draws where the sliver plates were stacked. He pulled the first one open, napkins, and then another, cloths, then another, empty. By the time he had got to he tenth and final draw he realised he had been played, and out there in TV land millions would be laughing as he searched in vain for the carving knife, or any knife, but found not even a fork. ?Bastards?, he hissed between gritted teeth and then realised that he better be on his toes as others might already be armed and dangerous and hunting for there first scalp. However he always made sure to have alternatives and so armed with the heavy lead weighted wire from the old clock he silently eased open the large door to the hall and peered out.

The door smashed back into his face, staggering him as he fell back onto the polished wooden flooring of the room, blood dripping from his mouth. A large blond man jumped into the room armed with what his blurred vision guessed was a chair leg, and before he could get back to his feet the splintered end of the weapon crashed across his shoulder sending him groaning back to the floor.
?OK old man, your meat?, yelled the fired up weight lifter bodied mid twenties male, in guttural European accented English. He smiled down at the now totally disorientated older man sprawled at his feet. Shit thought Martin, I?ve not even made it through the first round, but just as he was bracing himself for further punishment the blond?s face disappeared in a spray of blood. The first ten minutes were nearly always a free for all brawl, and often it was when a fighter was on the brink of victory that they were the most vulnerable.

A mature pale skinned redhead, maybe ten years older than Martin, was now laughing as she systematically brutalised the quickly unconscious blond with a heavy marble statue of Venus, she held it tightly in both hands and swung it vigorously like a baseball bat. Having beaten one male into a coma she turned still smiling to the prostate Martin.
?Now to fuck you up too,? she calmly informed the dazed man, swinging back the heavy implement, but the old cow had waited a bit too long to finish off the already injured male. Martin had retrieved ?Blond?s? weapon, and as the red head heaved back the Venus above her head he jammed the splintered end into the big female?s hairy cunt. Dropping the statue to shatter into a hundred pieces she staggered back out into the hallway screaming, clutching her sex, which was now dripping blood onto the highly patterned carpet in the hall. Favouring his injured left shoulder Martin scrabbled to his feet, and still dizzy wobbled after the agonised women, but before he could catch his victim he had to drop quickly down to the floor as a small Hispanic teen leapt at him from a side doorway wielding a large carving knife.

Martin yelped as the blade sliced a thin arc across his back, but just as with the busty female he also had underestimated the tanned and bullet headed forty something gladiator. He also received the same treatment as the redhead; the jagged end of the chair leg gouged his balls as Martin gutted him with a vicious stab from the makeshift weapon. The young man screamed and slumped back, holding his torn and gory crutch, the knife clattering to the floor. Turning the boy waddled off, dripping scarlet, as Martin groggily regained his feet only for his world to explode into stars and pain again as the now recovered vengeful pale skinned mature female slammed a large vase over his head. Blood oozed into his eyes, blurring his vision, as he rolled, covering and kicking out at the women who had blind-sided him.

By luck a hefty boot landed on the mature vixen?s already injured sex, and with a scream she backed back, but by the time he had cleared his vision she was already dead. A brown-skinned Black woman in her early thirties was slowly extracting the teen?s carving knife from the pale 40-inch left tit of the other fighter. The white women?s eyes were wide with shock, instantly dead, her heart cut out by the sepia bitch. Even as he was taking in the scene Martin was rolling for the door to make his escape, but discarding the dead white the wiry muscled fitness babe African American quickly advanced on him, her blade dripping crimson. As Martin dived through the door, behind him screams and curses echoed in the hallway, and he spun round still trying to shake the cobwebs from his head to breathed a sigh of relief. The ?Nigger Bitch? was now fully engaged in a life and death struggle with a small petite ?Desi? teen.

**johnsmith2007** · June 12th, 2009, 09:07 AM

Chocolate arms were wrapped around the brown neck of the older women and the claws of the teen were busily gouging at the other female?s eye?s as she yelled and cursed in her own language while also attempting to bite the ear of the more powerful female. Nigger Bitch had dropped her knife and was pulling at the girl?s claws to save her sight as she screamed with pain, but then showing the pro she obviously was her training kicked in and suddenly she just crashed back into the stairs. Desi wailed as her back hit the stone stairs and Martin thought he might have heard the cracking of ribs as well. Nigger Bitch crawled away rubbing tears and blood from her eyes, but he also noted she had landed hard on her right leg and it was causing her pain as she pulled herself back to her feet to face Desi.

Martin had though about trying to make a grab for the fallen knife as he now crouched in the doorway, hoping to escape notice, but it was just too far away, and the thought of what would happen to him if these two harridans combined to take him out was not something he wished to contemplate. However the opportunity was lost now as Desi, holding her left side which was now quickly turning a nasty shade of purple, forced herself up and lunged across the floor at the fallen weapon. Even as she snatched it up she was bombarded by a torrent of sharp and hard objects as the brown skinned American hobbled to the table by the door and lobbed its contents at the prone teen. The girl yelped as she was hit by an ash tray and then a small flower vase, complete with flowers and water, assaulted her left pert 34 inch bud, but she managed to fend off the three small picture frames that the older women threw like shiriken, as she sprang back to her feet.

Martin had realised that he had stayed back watching this fight and enjoying it too, for far too long. The door the Hispanic thug had scurried through must be the kitchen, the best place to get a weapon of his own, and killing that little shit should not he thought be that hard, even in his present state. He crawled quickly along by the wall to the swing door, but as he was about to enter his attention was drawn back to the fight behind him. Nigger Bitch had screamed an earth shattering wail of agony, as Desi has managed to trap her, back to the locked and secure ornate front door, and was slashing at the ripe body of the muscled vixen, who was desperately dodging the flying blade, but sprays of blood across her body and the white painted walls told their own tale of sliced flesh. However to Martins trained eye the tall African American was making too much of her injury, and indeed as the excited girl tried to stab home the knife the strong brown hands of the older cow grabbed her arm in a vice like grip and then she smashed a muscled leg into the teen?s already bruised and broken left side.

The knife clattered to floor as the kitten screamed in torment as her already cracked and broken ribs were further split and sundered as the bigger older Cat now pumped knee lifts into her sobbing quacking naked chocolate body, but it as at this point that Martin decided her really must finish the Hispanic gangbanger and eased himself though the door to the Kitchen. In Martins opinion there was nothing wrong with stealth, or creeping up behind someone with a heavy object, but as soon as Martin entered the Kitchen he knew his art was wasted. It always surprised him at how well the ?set? controlled the sound in the ?House?, and having come from one screaming and cursing fight he found himself the spectator to another, and yet from only feet away no sound had carried into the hall. The kitchen area was very large with a period setting, a roaring fire for cooking, hanging pots and a cauldron, carving tables etc, and right by the fire three figures were struggling on the cold stone flagged floor.

?Fuck?, spat Martin through clenched teeth, as he watched the combat, the organisers of ?House Party? really did like to throw in nasty surprises. Since the ?The Rights of Minors? legislation past the senate two years ago HP had quickly got into the youth brutality market, and even ran a children?s version of the show, but the bastards had really out done themselves this time. The ?Spic? teen was fighting for his life, being pummelled punched kicked and bitten by a team of two Chinese looking school kids. They could have been brother and sister for all Martin knew, but they sure were into pain in a big way, receiving and giving, as their nude glistening sweaty bodies were covered by welts and bruises with a liberal sprinkling of blood, as the bigger boy must have given them a good run for their money before the two children had managed to get him down.

Even as Martin looked on the girl stabbed the end of a small log she had wrenched out from the fire and plunged it into the youth?s crotch. His squealing made even Martin wince as the flames licked around his balls, burning his cock, and then with another wail ?Spic? fainted from the pain. To his surprise the girl still kept screaming at the unconscious boy in her sing song voice, stabbing the fire brand into the now roasted youth?s pods, while her brother had collapsed sobbing to the floor beside the ruined young gladiator. Martin now noticed the bruising and gouging around her hairless slit and ass, and made his own conclusions as to what the bigger teen had been doing to her earlier. The thought of fighting children?s teams still made him sick, but as his father used to tell him, it?s a dirty job but someone has to do it.

**johnsmith2007** · June 12th, 2009, 09:09 AM

Never being one to look a gift horse in the mouth he silently slipped one of the largest frying pans off of its hook and before the schoolgirl could even savour her victory he smashed in the side of her head. The loud ?crack? showed he had broken her jaw, and as the rag doll collapsed across the already finished Hispanic dog, her brother only had time to glance up, his one good eye looking out with fear from his swollen battered face, before Martin deftly swung it backhanded, in true tennis style, under his chin. The spray of blood showed the child had bitten off his own tong, and teeth enamel and gore dripped from his mouth as he fell backwards into dream land. Checking that all three were definitely out cold and likely to be so for some time, if not for ever, Martin hefted his newly acquired weapon and crept back to the door to the hall, but as he edged back through the doorway he was again was faced by the powerful African American bitch who had tried to slice him up earlier.

?Your balls are mine? cooed Nigger Bitch through her bruised and ripped lips, her eyes glaring out of their puffy red and bleeding gouged sockets. Her swelling right knee meant she was limping not striding towards him, and blood trickled out from a line of red that etched its way from across her compact grapefruit right tit, slicing open the teat, and then traced its way down to her hairless cunt, stopping just short of her dark, blue back sex lips. Glancing across her shoulder he could see by the stairs the pretty Asian teen sitting on the bottom step. Her whole body was sluiced with blood, which was pooling at her feet as she tried to staunch the flow from her butchered neck, her breath rattling through the gapping wound, before with a gasp she drifted into unconsciousness due to blood loss. Nigger Bitch had finished off Desi, and so was the conclusive winner of that little Cat Vs Kitten fight.

?Like what you see honkey?, she smiled the smile of a tigress as she closed the distance between them. Martin groaned and slumped back to the wall, and then deftly smacked the heavy frying pan with all the skill of a practiced ground stroke into the naked women?s already injured knee. With a wail the confident Black?s leg gave out leaving her sprawled on the floor whimpering at the agony in what he guessed must be a smashed patella. She had a handsome strong face, tear stained now due to her pain, but she needed a really good dentist, no he corrected himself, ?would? really need a good dentist. Martin smashed the heel of his boot into her mouth, and then repeatedly stomped down on her face as she squirmed below his boots. Teeth and blood sprayed across the room, finally rendering her into dreamland as her jaw broke, nose shattered, and eye socket cracked. He gave a crooked smile to the mirror, which he knew must conceal a camera, before checking that the mahogany woman was out for the count. Her breathing was ragged and bubbling through her ruined face, but she should live, assuming no one else stumbled upon her and decided to take no chances. He never killed in cold blood, or so he had convinced himself, so he would not finish her off. The redhead was dead, but the Blond was somehow fighting his way back to consciousness, so Martin put an end to that with a silver candelabra across his skull.

The buzzer sounded as the blond's head smacked back to the hard floor of the dinning room, all the doors clicked shut and the anchor mans cheery voice echoed into the mansion.
?Half our competitors are now either dead or crippled, so all surviving fighters have earned $100,000?, the studio audience cheered and shouted their approval, as medcs and continuity staff poured into the ?House? from the various hidden and concealed rooms and passageways that allowed the action to followed from every angle
?Three returning fighters have fallen at the first hurdle, and Geeta G, last years junior champion is also out. We?ll update you later on fatalities and have live feed to the ER where you will be able to vote on who lives and who dies, but now?Lets Rumble!!?

Martin wondered who the other two returnees were. He had not recognised Nigger Bitch women or the Blond, but the red headed MILF was Sharon O?Connor, a four timer, previous two time?s winner, and she must have been tonight?s favourite to win, and of course the Hindi teen was the junior champ. He had seen her pictures during the victory celebrations, but that had shown just a mask of blood and she had obviously invested a lot of her winnings in plastic surgery. The bookies had made a killing as well as the Black Detroit vixen; those two must have been punters favourites.

The buzzer sounded again, and with a click the doors unlocked.

John,

Something a bit different, but I?m never sure of my style doing ?free for alls?.
Cage I envy your skills!!!