Biphobia

"Good girl, good girl. Rest for a bit, the others will come down on their own."

Cramps racked Christi's body as she rested, but she felt the balls moving through her stretched insides, felt her rectum stretch and complain as another ball filled it.

"Another?" Sherie asked. Christi nodded her reply, held her breath and pushed again, pushing out another warm, heavy ball. Two more balls came down with similar cramps and were expelled through her abused anus into Sherie's waiting hand, and finally the last one entered her rectum.

"Last one." Sherie soothed. "Come on, push, get it out. There you go."

A grunt and a sob left Christi's mouth as the last ball popped free. Her abused insides began to relax, the cramps that had racked her lower belly diminished and settled.

"Good girl." Sherie soothed. "Now lie down and rest. It's tiring, isn't it? I've never had anything that big in me before."

Christi grunted a reply as she sunk her head back into Sherie's deliciously soft thighs, nestled her face into the soft, downy hair that grew just above her shaved patch, and closed her stinging eyes. Battered, aching and terrified so she was, she wanted nothing more than to be this close to Sherie, for the rest of her life. If only they were back in a motel somewhere, or in the big bed in Christi's flat, and they could lie under the sheets until their aches and pains had gone away, and then they could make love, kiss each other's lips and taste each other's sex and please each other's bodies until everything seemed alright once more. If only they weren't trapped in this awful prison with a sadistic killer forcing them to outdo each other in humiliating and abusive ways.

Tiredness and fatigue, relief at having expelled her anal invasion, and even a sense of giddy happiness at lying on Sherie's soft and welcoming body, were enough to send Christi away at last into a light and fitful sleep, interspersed with happy and hellish dreams that she only barely snatched before she woke again with a start, only to doze off once more. Sherie must have fallen asleep too, for when Christi awoke she heard only snores from her lover, snores that sent her straight back to sleep.

* * *

Christi awoke with a warmth against her chest and a numbness in her arms. Her shoulders ached and her neck was stiff, and her hands tingled. She had a familiar groggy feeling of cotton wool in her head.

She opened her eyes, found herself staring into a deathly-shadowed face at very close proximity, close enough to kiss its lips. She could smell dry breath against her skin. A strong lamp shone overhead, casting the face into a relief-map of light and shadow and obscuring it so completely that Christi almost didn't recognise its owner.

"Sherie?"

"What?" Sherie mumbled, opening her eyes, blinking. "Where are we?"

"Tied up." Christi said. "My arms are tied. I can't feel my hands."

"Me neither." Sherie took a breath.

"We must have been drugged again."

"I think so. I'm thirsty."

"Yeah, me too."

"You think Bubblehead will give us a drink soon?"

Christi didn't reply. Two friends dead, their own lives on the line, and a cold glass of water was the first thing either could think of.

She looked around, her stiff neck cracking as she did so. She and Sherie were tied upright in some kind of frame -- perhaps a climbing frame -- scabbed bellies and breasts pressed together, faces close enough to kiss, arms and legs stretched out wide and tied so tight that they were numb. Something hard was pressed between her legs, and as she moved she felt it resist as if it also pressed against Sherie's sex, trapped or perhaps suspended between them.

"What do you think will…" Sherie began, but she was cut off by Bubblehead's deep, augmented voice.

"The two remaining competitors will face three more rounds." He said. Christi turned her head as far as she could manage towards the double doors, where a big round shadow moved against two small frosted windows. "The first competitor to score two wins will survive. The remaining competitor will be eliminated. Round Three will follow: in this round, competitors will be stimulated. The first competitor to reach orgasm will win. Faked orgasms will be identified and guilty competitors will be punished."

The door unlocked and Bubblehead entered with a crash, his heavy boots echoing loudly on the tiles. Out of the corner of her eye Christi saw a leather holdall in his black-gloved hand, which he placed carefully on the floor and pulled open. She could only listen as he rummaged in the bag and emptied its contents outside of her field of view.

She flinched and squeaked audibly as she felt something cold and sticky touch her buttock. Another touched in the same place on her other cheek, and then two more, further between her legs where her buttocks met her thighs. Two more cold pads stuck to her inner thighs deep between her legs, almost against her exposed sex, and finally two pads touched the base of her spine.

Bubblehead stood from his work and carried his bag behind Sherie. Her sudden wide eyes indicated surprise as something happened behind her. Bubblehead finally walked away, trailing wires behind him, which he plugged into a little grey box set on an old plastic chair. He crouched before it, staring intently from behind his torch-lit faceplate, his gloved hands adjusting knobs on the box.

Christi felt a tingle in the highest pads on her buttocks, like a little electric shock that wouldn't stop. It grew, and the muscles in her buttocks tensed of their own accord. The other pairs of pads began to tingle also, until her buttocks and inner thighs were clenching and releasing in time with the shocks. It wasn't exactly painful, not even uncomfortable -- but it felt weird. What was the point of this?

"This won't make me come." Christi whispered into Sherie's ear, hoping that Bubblehead wouldn't hear her in his thick inflated helmet.

"Me neither." Sherie replied.

"I don't think anything could make me come in here. I can't possibly come right now, not here. Sherie, listen to me, if you can come, I want you to. I want you to win. I want you to be free."

"No!" Sherie hissed. "No, I'm not going to leave you! I'm not going to let you lose!"

"But I can't come. Really, I can't, not here, I'm too scared."

"So am I. There's nothing in here that could make me come, it's the last thing on my mind. Maybe he'll just get tired of trying, and call it a draw?"

"Maybe. If neither of us comes, we'll draw, right?" Christi whispered. "Right, I guess. I hope."

Christi planted a quick kiss to Sherie's face as she straightened her head. Bubblehead was still investigating his machine, adjusting knobs that sent varying strengths and speeds of current into Christi's spasming buttocks. As the strength of the current grew, so the spasms became greater, and more blood was drawn into the flesh between her legs. She felt her sex flushing, filling with blood, becoming more sensitive. She felt her clit begin to fill, begin to throb against the hard object that pressed between her and Sherie.

"This is making the blood go to my… Um…" She whispered to Sherie.

"Yeah, me too."

"Um…"

"It's alright, you come if you have to."

"No!" Christi hissed. "No, I can't come. I'm too… Well, this is making me a bit… No, I'm not going to come! I'm not going to win!"

Christi withdrew her mouth from Sherie's ear, but saw Sherie's eyes were closed and her lips pursed, pouting, breathing deeply through them. She'd seen that look before, when they were… No, don't think about that! The increasing spasms in her buttocks were strong enough to make her pussy contract of its own accord, and all the exercise was making everything sensitive. She needed to think about something else, before it got too much to bear.

Why was it that nothing else would do, when the mind was turned to sex? Why, in this hellish old building, this torture chamber where Bubblehead chose his murder victims through sadistic games, would her mind not leave alone its memories of Sherie's beautiful face, moments away from orgasm, as she had been on that one glorious night in the motel? And why this cruel fate, that she would see her face like this only one more time before Bubblehead took her life, as ultimately he would, if Christi could see to it that Sherie won the next two games?

Bubblehead reached to something on the floor, out of Christi's sight, and a gentle hum emanated from the hard object against her sex. Immediately vibrations shuddered through her body, firing into nerve endings and lancing up her spine like lightning.

Sherie gave a sudden inward breath, her eyes popping wide. "Oh God!" She whispered breathily, her breaths turning to pants in her mouth as the speed of the hum increased.

"No…" Christi muttered, her clit beginning to seethe under the vibrating object. She shut her eyes to hide Sherie's aroused face from her mind, but in the blackness she felt clearer how Sherie's blistered belly writhed against her own and ground into the vibrating object, thrusting it harder into her sex. She felt Sherie's breasts moving against hers, nipple to nipple, so close and so beautiful.

"Sherie, stop it, please…" She mumbled into Sherie's ear. "Stop grinding it into me like that, it's too much…"

"I can't help it." Sherie whispered in reply. "It's the shocks, I can't stop my hips moving."

"Sherie…" Christi slurred. "Do you think you can come? Because I don't know if I can hold on forever."

"Let go." Sherie said. "Come, come for me. You can win this round."

"No! I can't let you lose! Come with me!"

The vibration increased in intensity, driving a groan from Sherie's mouth.

"Come with me, Sherie, please?"

"Alright…" She panted. Her eyes closed again, and her face took a on distant look, as if she was concentrating on something. Her laboured breaths rose, and the writhing of her hips increased in pace, and all the time the tingles shooting up Christi's spine became stronger and stronger.

"Alright, I'm close now, really close." Sherie panted.

"I'm almost there." Christi said. "Almost…"

"No, not yet, please, not yet, wait for me…"

"God Sherie, I'm right there, please, come with me!" Christi moaned, the vibrations suddenly taking her so close that it was all she could do to hold back. She felt the abyss of orgasm opening before her, felt her body trying to throw her over the edge even as her fingers scrabbled to hold herself back.

"Wait for me!"

"Please, Sherie, please, I can't hold on! Please!"

"Oh, God! Almost there!" Sherie squeaked at last. "Almost… Almost…"

It was too late. Christi squeezed her mouth shut and held her breath as her orgasm began to explode, but it was too late, the touchpaper had been lit, the fire had blossomed and the blast was rising up her spine.

"Now!" Sherie squeaked, her eyes screwing shut in determination.

Christi let herself go, opening her mouth and expelling her pent-up breath as the fire reached her chest and swept her away. Through the blast in her ears she heard Sherie moaning, felt her hot breath tearing at her cheek. She brought her lips to Sherie's, kissed her, tasted the orgasm on her tongue.

"A dead heat!" Bubblehead boomed. "How very sweet. Again."

The vibration between Christi's legs increased again, driving a second orgasm up through her spine. "Sherie!" She squeaked; "Again!"

Sherie's belly became a rock against Christi's as the vibrating object was thrust rapidly into her sex, and both were enveloped in another orgasmic wave.

Stars burst in Christi's eyes. She blinked rapidly to clear them, heard Sherie's whimpering close in her ear. "Please, not again." Sherie moaned. "I can't come again."

"Again!" Bubblehead's augmented voice boomed. The vibrations drove still higher, forcing a groan from Sherie's mouth.

"No, I can't, I can't…" She whispered.

Christi tried to hold back, but she had always been multi-orgasmic, and once the first was over the rest came easily. She couldn't deny the vibrations. She held her breath, tried to force her third impending orgasm down to wait for Sherie, but it wouldn't stop.

"Sherie!" She squeaked. "Please, Sherie, I can't wait!"

"Don't wait for me!" Sherie whimpered.

"Please, Sherie, come for me!" Christi continued, her voice tight as a whistle as she tried to swallow down her orgasm. "Imagine it's me between your legs, imagine it's my tongue playing with your pussy, imagine I'm sucking your clit and squeezing your butt and burying my tongue in your pussy…"

"Oh, God!" Sherie forced through her tight lips. "Oh God, now!"

Christi let go her third orgasm, screaming aloud as it ripped through her body. She'd been holding back too long, and it was too much -- there was too much heat inside her to be set free with just one intense orgasm. Already she was almost bursting for another.

"Sherie, again, please!" She squeaked into Sherie's ear.

"No, I can't…" Sherie panted over the breaths of her last dying orgasm.

"Please!" Christi ground her teeth, clenched her muscles and held on as her fourth orgasm grew like an over-inflated party balloon that was about to burst. "I can't wait! Please! Imagine I'm…"

"No!" Sherie grunted. "Please don't make me come again! Come without me, please, come without me…"

"No…" Christi tried to moan, tried to swallow her impending orgasm, but it was too much. Sherie's breasts against hers, her sore blistered belly writhing, the taste of her breath and the moist wash of it on her shoulder, together with the electric shocks between her legs and the vibrating on her clit was too intense to hold back. Her orgasm erupted as the balloon burst, threatened to blow her apart from within. She screamed out loud as she came. She didn't normally scream in such a way, but she didn't normally force her orgasms down for so long. She felt something wet splashing down her legs and realised she was squirting, something she only did on the very best of hip-crushing orgasms. Her watery ejaculate splashed over Sherie's thighs in tiny streams and dripped onto the floor, was quickly spent.

The vibrations stopped suddenly, leaving Christi with a numbness between her legs. Bubblehead stood briskly, switched off his little grey box and made rapid paces for the double doors. He smashed through them, let them swing shut behind him with a clatter that knocked several shards of cracked paint to the floor. His retreating footsteps could be heard over the sound of air hissing, followed by a rubbery deflation and some hurried breaths.

Was it possible that Bubblehead only had a limited supply of air in his inflatable suit? There were no visible tubes for his mouth anywhere in the suit, and no regular reverberating hiss as of someone breathing through a narrow pipe. Perhaps he could only wear the suit for a short time before the air inside became stale, and he had to deflate himself and remove his helmet for fresh oxygen.

Could that be used to their advantage?

"Sherie?" Christi whispered, once her mind was turned from Bubblehead's distant heavy breathing to her lover's quiet sighs. They had turned to sobs, and tears were falling onto Christi's shoulder and running down her back. "Sherie, it's OK, he's gone now."

"Only for now." Sherie whispered. "He'll be back. Who knows what he'll make us do next? I can't take it anymore. I'm too scared. I just want it to end. I just want to get it over with."

"Sherie! I'm sorry, I couldn't help coming that time, but I'll let you win next time. I won't let him kill you. I can't lose you, you're my best friend, and I love you!"

Sherie sniffed. "Just make it stop. I'm so sore. I usually only come once. Twice hurts, and three times is just too painful. Why did you have to make me come?"

"It's alright. The pain will go soon. I get sore sometimes."

"No, it's not that kind of sore, it's like an… Inside sore. Like muscle pains."

"I know. It's alright, I know. You come really hard, don't you? Your muscles cramp up solid. You probably pull them a bit every time."

Sherie nodded, sniffing again. "Yeah. I always have very physical orgasms."

"You look real sweet when you come."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Sherie lifted her head, dragged her wet nose against Christi's cheek. Christi turned her head until they were staring eye to eye, then let their lips touch, kissed her softly. Her soft kiss was returned, and grew into a slow open kiss, tongues seeking out each other and entwining, tasting teeth and lips and gums. Slowly, sensually, not fierce and sexual but tender and loving.

"I'd die happy knowing I kissed you one last time." Christi said, as Sherie broke free from her lips and turned her head away, rather too abruptly, Christi thought.

"I'd rather you not die at all." Sherie replied flatly.

"That's…" Christi began, but stopped. Echoing through the double doors was a high-pitched keening, a female voice at the peak of output, somewhere deep in the building. It grew rhythmically, louder and louder, climaxing in a long crescendo, stopping with a tailing reverb from the myriad bare walls in the old building. "What was that?" She said.

"A woman's voice!" Sherie replied. "He's got another woman in here! Maybe he's just made her… Y'know."

"Yeah, or…" Christi's voice trailed off as her exhausted thoughts got mixed up.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Sherie sniffed again. "So thirsty."

"Yeah."

Footsteps approached outside the door, which was pushed open long enough for a slender black-gloved hand to enter and drop a small metallic canister onto the floor.

"Here we go again." Sherie sighed, fear resonating like a violin string in her tight voice.

* * *

"Wake up." Said a booming voice, as a heavy boot gently kicked Christi's naked thigh. She opened her eyes, shrank back as she saw Bubblehead's torchlight eyes staring at her from behind his bubble mask. "Both of you, up."

Christi dragged herself upright and pulled herself back against the grimy wall, cringing against it as she watched Bubblehead lift Sherie's tired head from the ground by her hair. His gloved hand seemed small against Sherie's head, almost lost in her thick golden curls.

Sherie moaned something, her voice exhausted.

"Leave her alone!" Christi shouted in what she hoped would be a loud command, but came out as a meek whimper. Bubblehead ignored her, his small hands slapping Sherie lightly around the cheeks until she came to. She gave a shriek when she saw his inflated bulk before her, scrabbled away over the slippery filth and pressed her back against the wall.

"The next challenge." Bubblehead boomed, and in the closeness of the little room Christi thought she heard two voices -- the loud, augmented, processed voice that boomed from the midriff of the suit, and a tighter one, somewhere inside where his mouth would be. Her tired mind wandered, and she found herself wondering what Bubblehead looked like under the mask, and if she'd ever get the chance to find out. He had been bent over just a moment gone to pick Sherie up from the floor where she had been sleeping off her latest sedative; Christi could have charged him and knocked him down, ripped off his suit and overpowered him -- but she hadn't thought of it at the time. She'd been too scared to even think of it.

Why hadn't she thought of it? Bubblehead would probably be stronger than her anyway, and she was weak with fear and thirst and exhaustion, but surely it would have been worth a try? What was the worst he could have done? No worse than he had already promised.

So, why not give it a try now?

Christi's heart rose into her throat like bile. She could leap up and charge him as he stood in the centre of the room, tending roughly to Sherie. She could charge and bear him down -- so why didn't she?