"Story: Blackout « on: May 17, 2017, 02:58:08 AM » Re" By robblu (https://pastebin.com/u/robblu) URL: https://pastebin.com/gQxFKXXG Created on: Friday 19th of May 2017 12:21:10 AM CDT Retrieved on: Saturday 31 of October 2020 03:20:53 AM UTC Story: Blackout « on: May 17, 2017, 02:58:08 AM » ReplyQuote “I love you guys soooo much.” They were at the bottom of the third pitcher of sangria, and all five of them were at the sloppy emotionality phase of the evening. Jordan had started off talking about how badly her most recent date had gone, but that quickly gave way to simple appreciation. “You guys are, like, so my family. I don’t know what I would do without you.” There was a chorus of reiterations and reassurance: They all loved her too. They loved each other. They loved sangria. “I’m serious, you guys.” Jordan had tears in her eyes as she looked around the table; the four other young women were friends, family, and life support system all rolled into one. They’d shared a two-bedroom apartment near downtown in the big city since just after college graduation, and they were as close as they could possibly be. Tonight was supposed to be a celebration of Jordan’s finally getting a promotion, but at the last minute it had gone to someone else, instead, so it was commiseration drinks, instead, the five of them sitting around a familiar table in their familiar local dive, the pitchers of sangria coming maybe a little faster than they normally would. “I swear,” said Jordan. “It’s just so hard. If I didn’t have you guys, I don’t know, I think I would have killed myself.” There was another round of reassuring agreement. “Me too,” said Amy, setting down her suddenly-empty glass. “I think about it all the time, the only reason I don’t do it is that I don’t want to do that to you guys.” Another chorus of nods. Everyone reached out and touched Amy, reassuringly. “Oh my god,” said Kaitlin. “I thought it was just me. I mean, you guys are so great, and you’re always so positive, I thought I was just... I don’t know, being weak or something.” Natalie pushed her big, round glasses up her nose; somehow, they always ended up sliding down when she drank. She wasn’t normally one to show emotion, but the sangria and the company and the topic of conversation had left her with tiny trails of moisture down her cheeks. “No,” she said, “It’s all of us, I think.” She said it quietly, but everyone listened and nodded. Natalie was the observant one, the one who knew where everybody was and how they were all doing. “We all... well.” Brianna, sitting at the head of the table, stared at the mostly-empty Sangria glass that she held with both hands, the corners of her mouth bent down just a little bit. “Seriously,” she said, quietly. Everyone looked up at her. She looked around the group, meeting each of their eyes, one at a time. She was blurry with drink and the late hour but suddenly she knew what it was that they should be doing next. “Hang on,” she said, and leaned way over, reached out and physically touched a waitress as she went past; the waitress stopped and stared at her. Brianna, leaning over in her chair, held up five fingers. “Tequila shots,” she said. “Five of them, and then five more.” The waitress nodded, and kept moving. Brianna straightened up in her chair, looking smug and animated, as though she knew exactly what was going on and was deciding how much to let the rest of them in on. The other four sat back. Amy carefully poured the dregs of the pitcher into all five glasses, making sure they were all level; Jordan looked all around, uncertain, waiting to see what everybody thought. Kaitlin stared at her glass, and Natalie watched Brianna. “Bri,” she said, “What are you...” Brianna shook her head, her shoulder-length hair spraying around her face. “Just wait a second,” she said. It only took a minute for the first round of tequila shots to arrive and to be distributed. They were unofficial doubles, like always, good drinking value for the money. Each girl held her shot up and Brianna said, “To us,” and they all drank. The tequila burned on the way down; each girl winced as she swallowed, and then they slammed their glasses down onto the table. They all giggled, the tension broken, as they looked around at one another, meeting one another’s eyes almost shyly. Brianna moved, just a little bit, but in a way that made them all look at her; she was the one, when things needed to be decided, who set the tone for the group, and they all looked to her for leadership when leadership was needed. “Girls,” she said, and then stopped as the waitress arrived second round of tequila shots; she waited until the shots were distributed and the waitress had moved away. “Girls,” she started again, reaching for the second shot, “I think we should help each other commit suicide. Together. Tonight.” There was a shocked silence, and then a little low murmur as they all looked around at one another, trying to decide whether Brianna had gone crazy or something; but one by one, the suddenly-sober-feeling young women’s eyes all turned back to their leader, consensus silently falling into line behind her. Brianna held up the tequila shot, and three of the others held theirs up as well. Amy stared at hers, then looked up at Brianna; Brianna met her eyes and smiled, just a little, and Amy slowly raised her glass as well. “To us,” said Brianna, and, after an uncertain pause, they drank. “Fuuuuuck.” Brianna opened her eyes, slowly, feeling like they were encrusted with sand and she could feel every grain of it grinding against the insides of the lids. She stared at the ceiling for a little while, confused, before she realized that she only had one contact lens in and that it wasn’t her ceiling. She was lying, naked, on a bed, not hers, and her entire body felt like she’d been badly beaten up. Like the mornings at volleyball camp, at the beginning of each season, when her muscles were getting beaten back into shape. She recognized the fuzzy glow of the endorphins. When she moved, there was pain, and not just the pain of stiff muscles: her belly felt like... well, it wasn’t that bad, really, but it sort of felt like she’d been stabbed, and then taken a lot of morphine-based painkillers. She knew what injury felt like, from a lifetime of sports, and she knew what percocet and vicodin felt like, and this felt like that. She blinked a couple of times, staring at the ceiling. It could almost be her ceiling, but not quite, it was oriented... right, it was her apartment, but it wasn’t her room. She started to sit up, and gasped: It wasn’t quite pain, it was the thing you feel instead of pain when you’re on the right kind of drugs, sometimes... Brianna looked down at herself and gasped out loud. Her naked body, on top of the sheets, was covered in dried blood, and at least some if it was clearly her own. There was a wound, in her belly, just below her belly button, which looked bad; it looked like a knife wound, in fact. She’d been stabbed. What the fuck. What, she thought, had gone on last night? She remembered the bar, and the conversation; Jordan’s promotion thing, that turned out not to be a promotion... the sting of yet another defeat for the five close friends. She remembered... God, had she really said that, about killing themselves? And then the tequila... She knew. She knew, from years of experimentation, that she and tequila were not friends, that it would make her believe that it was her friend the night before, and then it would not be there for her the morning after when she had to face the consequences. It had been years since she’d had a morning like this, waking up with a fuzzy, pounding head -- she didn’t have much of a headache, more evidence for having taking some seriously strong painkillers -- and a warm, usually male, always very naked body in the bed next to her. She looked over, afraid of what she might find, but was totally unprepared for what she actually found. Jordan, as stark naked as she was, likewise covered in blood, lay on her back, her legs spread wide apart, hands above her head resting loosely against the headboard. Her straight, dark hair, usually in a tidy ponytail, was haloed around her head. Her mouth was open as though in mid-scream; her eyes were half open, sleepy, staring up at the ceiling. She looked as though she’d been going through something really, really intense, and then just relaxed into it. She didn’t seem to be breathing. Brianna recoiled, edging away from her friend’s body. Jordan’s belly and chest we covered in wounds just like the ones on her own belly; she couldn’t bring herself to count them. There was blood just everywhere. She swallowed, which hurt, in a weird, internal sort of way that drew her attention back to her own belly, and what she had to admit to herself now was the stab wound in it. Had they really made a suicide pact? And actually gone through with killing Jordan? Did the rest of them believe that they’d killed Brianna, too, and would they be surprised when she was alive? Was everyone else dead? She looked toward the door just as it opened. Standing there in the hallway, poking her head in, was Natalie, glasses just a little askew on her face. Her normally tidy up-do was all escaped wisps; there was blood on her as well, and... yes, there was a wound on her belly, just where there was one on Brianna’s. She had one hand pressed tightly to the side of her neck. “Good,” said Natalie, “You’re awake, I’m tired of holding on.” She looked at Jordan, looked the dead girl’s body up and down, like she maybe hadn’t seen it before but it didn’t surprise her. “You and Jordan were taking a long time, and then I came to check out you and you were out like a light, snoring...” “Fuck,” said Brianna. “Fuck, Nat, what the fuck? What did we do?” Natalie stared at her, mouth open for a little bit. “You were only out for like forty-five minutes, not even an hour,” she said. “You can’t have...” She took a deep breath. “Tequila,” she said. “You shouldn’t drink tequila.” Natalie had been around for many of Brianna’s previous ill-advised tequila-induced adventures, and had, several times, walked Brianna through the what-happened-the-night-before. She met Brianna’s eyes levelly. “We killed ourselves, Bri. Just like you said.” A few minutes later, they stood in the living room, staring up at Kaitlin’s body, which was swinging slowly back and forth at the end of a rope. Her eyes were open, with the same sleepy relaxed eyelid droop as Jordan had, and her mouth hung open, leaving her looking vaguely surprised. Her wrists were securely bound behind her. Her long, blonde hair was loosely tied back with a scrunchy, off center on her head on the opposite side from the knot in the rope. There was a wound on her belly, just below the belly button, just like the one on her and Natalie’s bellies. “Did... we all stab each other?” She looked over at Natalie, who was standing there staring up at Kaitlin’s body. She still had her hand firmly pressed against her neck. “Yeah,” said Natalie, “In the bathroom at the bar.” Brianna stared at her. After a second, Natalie realized Brianna was staring at her, and looked back at her. “It was your idea,” she said. “You said, we should so something right then that we couldn’t back out of, that meant we couldn’t go back.” She looked back up at Kaitlin’s body. “We all wanted to go a different way, and of course somebody would be last, so...” “So we wanted to make sure nobody backed out.” Brianna nodded thoughtfully. “You wanted some kind of slow-acting poison, but none of us knew anything about poison. And Amy had this big knife in her purse, with a thick but short blade, and Jordan had these pills, she said it would make it so we still felt it but it wouldn’t be like, terrible. And it turns out that Jordan knows... knew... like, everything about being stabbed, because that’s how she wanted to go, and she said if we stabbed each other here, it wouldn’t kill us right away but it would make it so we’d die eventually, without serious, like, emergency room surgery? “So we all took the pills, with more tequila, and then we waited half an hour and we talked about how we wanted to do it, started making plans, and then when we were ready you said, ok, everybody pick who you want to stab you, and you picked Jordan, and you both went in the bathroom and you came back in a little while looking all shaky but all smiling and you sat down and Jordan said, “Amy” and they went in the restroom and cam out with Jordan holding her belly looking like she’d just cum, and Amy chose Kaitlin and then Kaitlin chose me and I chose you.” She took a breath, looked into Brianna’s eyes. “Standing there in that restroom, with my jeans undone and my shirt up and looking you in the eye and my hands on your shoulders and feeling you sink that knife into me... it was intense, Bri, it was the most intense thing that ever happened to me.” She smiled, shyly. “I’m glad I did it, and I’m glad it was you, even if you don’t remember.” She reached out with the hand that wasn’t pressed to her neck and grabbed Brianna’s hand. She squeezed it hard, then let it fall, and they stood there, side by side, holding hands and watching Kaitlin’s corpse sway back and forth. “Amy,” said Brianna, after a while. “Where’s Amy?” “She said she needed to get something, and left, right before you and Jordan went in Jordan’s room to... you know.” To kill Jordan. To stab her, apparently, like twenty times, and watch her die before passing out. She hoped she’d managed to wait until Jordan was dead before passing out. “Nat,” she said, “Why do you have your hand pressed on your neck like that?” Nat looked at her... shyly? She smiled. “Because,” she said, “It spurts, when I let it go.” “Oh,” said Brianna, dumbly. “So you...” “I asked you to cut my throat,” Natalie said. “And you did, we asked Jordan where to cut, and I knelt down on the floor in front of you and you stood behind me and you cut my throat, and Jordan said you didn’t have to cut too deeply if you cut in the right place but it didn’t seem like it worked, and we were talking about trying it again when it suddenly started just spurting and I was so surprised I put my hand over it and it seemed to make it stop, and you said, “Just let it go, it’s doing what you wanted,” but I didn’t want to, I told you to go do Jordan first and then come back to me.” “Oh,” said Brianna, feeling stupid. All these decisions, all these... actions, and she just didn’t remember them. “It’s OK,” Natalie said, smiling. She squeezed Brianna’s hand. “It doesn’t really matter, Bri, I’m going to let go in a bit and I’ll be dead like I think a minute after, so...” So it didn’t matter, that Brianna couldn’t remember having talked her into this, couldn’t remember having cut her throat. Couldn’t remember... “Nat,” she said, “What else did I miss?” She squeezed Natalie’s hand. “What am I missing?” Natalie looked down at the living room floor, and Brianna looked down; the floor was more or less covered in pillows and blankets, all spread around and tangled together. “We made love,” said Natalie. “All of us, I mean, all together, after we got home, and...” “And you and I especially,” said Brianna, nodding. “Nat, I’ve known for a long time that you...” Natalie shook her head. “No,” she said, “I know, you’re not like that, and not about me, and even if we had that one moment, you don’t...” Brianna held up her hand. “Nat,” she said, “You were always my best friend, and this is the last thing we’ll ever do, together or otherwise. Just say the word, and we’ll make it happen.” Natalie looked at her... thoughtfully. Appraisingly. Like she wasn’t sure she was ready to reveal something. But then she smiled, and shook her head. “Of course,” she said. She looked suddenly mischievous. “You seemed to enjoy yourself, that’s for sure. You and Jordan...” She shook her head. “Which is what you guys were doing when you... you know.” “Stabbed her to death.” “Yeah.” “So the idea was that when I finished with Jordan, you and I would make love while you bled to death.” Natalie gave a sort of ambiguous headshake. “We had it pretty well choreographed,” she said. “I was going to sit on your face, and then let go when I was cumming...” “Oh,” said Brianna. She had to admit, it sounded like a sexy way to go. For Natalie, at least. “Did, uh,” she said, hesitantly, “Did I say how I was going to go?” “Well,” said Natalie, “You had something you wanted me to do, before I came.” She looked at Brianna’s belly, and Brianna felt a chill of terror. Or maybe it was a thrill of excitement. “Oh,” she said, “I told you about that fantasy.” Brianna’s heart pounded in her chest as she lay on her back and watched Natalie position herself: One knee on one side of Brianna’s head, one knee on the other side... Why, she wondered, was she going along with this? She could stop it, if she wanted. Tell Natalie that she would go later. Maybe when Amy came back. Just... go to the emergency room, say she’d been attacked, get the belly wound stitched up... Just because drunk Brianna from last night had decided to finally listen to the counsel of her inner demons, thought now-Brianna, doesn’t mean that I have to... Natalie moved back and forth, widening her knees apart; she was facing Brianna’s feet, and as her knees parted her pussy lowered down over Brianna’s face. Now was the time to say something, said the rational little voice in the back of Brainna’s brain, now was the... And then Natalie’s pussy was on her face, rubbing against her, and her tongue was out and finding the wetness at Natalie’s core, seeking out the little nub that would make her best friend in the world lurch into her final orgasm. She didn’t say: No, Natalie, don’t do this; she didn’t say, No, Natalie, please, I changed my mind. She didn’t say, No, Natalie, I don’t want to die... I don’t want to die, thought Brianna, not really, do I? But she didn’t say it out loud. Natalie leaned forward, reached out, put her finger in Brianna’s pussy, and it told the story: Terrified though she was, conflicted though she was, Brianna was soaked, dripping. She gasped into Natalie’s pussy as Natalie touched her, and then gasped again as the other woman moved her hand from Brianna’s pussy to the other hole in her: The hole that Jordan had -- apparently -- stabbed into her belly, last night. Shit, she thought, even as she moaned out loud, she didn’t even know what time it was. She wondered... And then she stopped wondering, for a while, and just felt, as Natalie stuck her finger in her stab wound. It wasn’t even that it hurt. Whatever pills she’d taken took the edge right off that. Even with the pain blunted, though, the sensation of having someone’s finger inside her was... was just intense. She realized that she was moaning out loud, and couldn’t remember having started doing it. Natalie’s pussy was moving back and forth on her mouth, not quite grinding down, but moving with Brianna’s tongue, moving back and forth and Something happened in her belly. Brianna knew what it was, because she knew what they’d talked about, but the sensation of the knife... Natalie had slid the knife back into her belly, not into the same wound again but making a new one, just like that, pushing the knife into her, and she was making some sort of animalistic sounds, she could hear them even muffled against Natalie’s pussy, feeling the intensity just grow and grow as Natalie worked the knife blade into her and then just get exponential as... Natalie was cutting her open. She was being cut open. She could feel herself being slit open, her belly... the pain still wasn’t making her scream, but the sensation was just... as the blade slid through her flesh she could only grunt, her legs kicking, her hand slapping ineffectually against Natalie’s ass even as her tongue still worked at the other girl’s cunt. And then she felt a sort of grinding sensation, and she realized that the knife had reached the top of her belly, was cutting against her sternum. She was cut open. Oh my God, she thought, I’m cut open, gutted. She felt Natalie’s body tense, strike a pose -- her back arching, thought Brianna, she was cumming, and she heard Natalie say something but it as muffled by her thighs and so Brianna missed it and then she felt the first drops of warm blood on her and she realized that Natalie had let go of her throat and was spraying blood, bleeding out even as she came against Brainna’s face. The moment seemed to last forever, just frozen like that, the same tiny, intense set of motions, the same overwhelming sensations, the spray like a warm shower, until Brianna thought that maybe this was it, her afterlife, or whatever, she’d died and would just repeat this moment over and over and over for eternity, but then, slowly, she felt Natalie stop moving and then, just as slowly, fall over sideways, off her, and suddenly she was just laying on her back again, staring at the ceiling, wondering if this was really happening to her. “Oh Fuuuuuck.” Brianna opened her eyes, slowly. The world was out of focus, sort of greyed out. She’d apparently rolled onto her side. She spluttered weakly; someone was touching her face. “Holy cow, you guys,” said Amy, who was standing over Brianna. “You guys really did a number on each other. Brianna tried to say something, but all that came out was a long moan. Amy stood up and pulled the sundress she was wearing off over her head. Underneath, she wasn’t wearing anyting at all, except for a pair of sandals which she kicked off. Naked, she squatted back down next to Brianna, who looked up at her out of the corners of her eyes; it hurt to move at all. Amy reached into her big bag, which sat on the floor beside Brianna, and pulled out a big chrome revolver. “I went and got this from my dad’s collection,” she said. “It’s the same one my mom shot herself with.” She sounded super chipper about that fact, thought Brianna. “I was kind of worried that you guys would be finished before I got back, and it seems like I was mostly right...” Amy paused for a second; there were some clicking sounds, that may have been her messing with the pistol. “Anyway, I woke you up because I noticed that you weren’t quite gone, and I figured that I’d give you the option of a quick finish.” There was something on her lips, cold and hard; Brianna opened her mouth, instinctively, and found herself with a mouth full of gun barrel. She looked up at Amy, still trying not to move very much, and shook her head, no thank you. “Okay,” said Amy, taking the pistol out of Brianna’s mouth. “I got you another one of Jordan’s pills’ though.” Again, something against her lips; this time she took the offered pill and swallowed it, quickly. Amy sat down and kept chattering; after a while, Brianna felt the pill taking effect, at least to the extent that she could move a bit. She propped herself up on her elbow; the world was still oddly greyed out, and looking at the carpet beside her, she could see why. The light beige carpet had a huge, spreading stain around where her belly lay; a lot of what seemed like her insides were laying on the carpet in a big pile, beside her. “Whoah,” she said. Amy looked over at her and smiled. “I know,” she said. “You guys all look amazing.” She paused, looking like she was trying to remember something; finally, she just sighed a little, like she’d given up. She leaned over and pressed something into Brianna’s hand: The knife; the one she’d stabbed Jordan with, the one Natalie had gutted her with. “For later,” she said, and patted Brianna’s hand, pressing it closed around the knife. She sat up straight and took a deep breath, looking all around. “Well,” she said, “I guess I should get a move on, get caught up.” She opened the cylinder on the pistol with a practiced flip, checked to make sure it was loaded to her own satisfaction, flipped the cylinder closed again; there was a sort of snap, when it closed. Then she turned the pistol deftly around, placed her thumb on the trigger and the barrel between her breasts, and used her other hand to pull the hammer back. She was breathing shallow and fast, and her eyes were huge, the whites showing all the way around her irises, as she looked down at Brianna with a nervous grin. “Here goes,” she said, and then there was a shockingly loud sound and the pistol dropped from Amy’s fingers. Amy looked ridiculously surprised, like whatever had happened was not at all what she had expected. Brianna could see a smallish, darkish hole in the center of Amy’s chest; a tiny wisp of smoke rose from the hole. Brianna watched as Amy’s hands moved aimlessly, as her eyes looked around the room, eventually finding Brianna’s eyes and locking on them. Her mouth hung open like a cartoon character. Slowly, her eyes rolled back in their sockets and she slumped sideways, eventually coming to rest against Brianna’s cut-open belly. Brianna realized that she was feeling better as the pain pills kicked in. Not that she was under any illusions about her condition; she looked down at where Amy’s vacated corpse leaned against her exposed intestines, still gently twitching. She looked at Natalie, eyes open and staring, lying on her side; she looked up at Kaitlin’s corpse, gently swaying back and forth, and she realized she remembered: She remembered Kaitlin standing on one of the kitchen chairs, smiling nervously, then taking a deep breath, then standing there some more, and finally looking helplessly at Brianna and saying, “I can’t do it, Bri, you have to do it for me...” She remembered putting her foot on the chair, and her hand gently on Kaitlin’s hip; she remembered the other girl smiling tightly down at her and nodding, firmly, once, and she remembered pushing hard with her foot. She looked at where the chair lay on its side, below Kaitlin’s dangling corpse. She remembered the girl hanging at the end of the rope, looking like she was in pain but bearing it up, and then gradually losing her cool as she stopped being able to breath; she remembered Kaitlin’s eyes getting big as she started to kick, and then she remembered them gradually getting droopy and tired looking as she stopped kicking again. Brianna looked down at the knife in her hand, and she remembered it sliding into her belly, standing in the bathroom and staring into Jordan’s eyes as the dark-haired girl pushed it into her, looking like it was the sexiest thing she’d ever done. She weakly moved the blade up to her belly, slid it into the rent in her body, pushed it up until she thought it was in the right place, and then she took a deep breath. She remembered laying on top of Jordan, the dark haired girl’s eyes wild as Brianna plunged the knife into her, again and again, Jordan shouting “Yes, yes, yes!” with each stroke, finally winding down to a whisper.... “Yes, yes...” and then silence... Brianna closed her eyes and remembered the five of them making love on the living room floor, where she was laying now, and she pulled the knife into herself one last time; she felt her heart do something, and then she lost track of what she was thinking about, and that was all