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Old 16-Sep-18, 10:47
dirksneath dirksneath is offline
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Default Jaycee's Revenge

Here it is, the story you've all been dreading...I mean, anxiously awaiting. (I was probably right the first time). I'll be posting it in four installments of about nine pages each, with easy monthly payments of only 19.99. (Just kidding. I could probably get kicked off The Forum if someone thought I was actually trying to make money off these stories).

Like my other stories, it is very violent. As always, it won't bother me if you'd rather skip it for that, or frankly, any other reason. The girl is young (eleven, almost twelve) and her incredible strength is unexplained because nobody really knows why she's so strong. Some describe her as a "biological freak."

She is evil, as are all the girls in my stories. In the ever popular "good guy/bad guy" scenario, the girls in my stories are always the bad guys. Always. And the people she attacks are innocent good guys who are either in the wrong place at the wrong time or people she feels vengeful toward for stopping her brutal assaults on others. So without further ado, here is Jaycee's Revenge:

Jaycee was uncharacteristically well behaved during her six month sentence in juvenile detention. She had almost killed an old man, probably would have if not for the fortunate intervention of a neighbor who called the police when he found out that the vicious little girl, who had beaten his son badly a few weeks earlier, was in the process of doing the same to the man who had called the police when his (the neighbor's) son was being torn apart by the psychotic little bully. Neighbors were outraged by the light sentence, but there was nothing they could do about it. What had been done was done, and the legal system did not allow an appeal of the sentence. They knew that when she got out, she would probably return to the scene of the crime and try to finish killing the poor old man, and unless someone could stop her, she'd probably succeed this time.

Al had initially planned to move, especially after the light sentence, as he feared the first thing she would do when she got out would be to come looking for him. However, the cost of rent and deposits on houses and apartments he looked at were outrageous, and some of them were not even in good neighborhoods. Like most of his neighbors, he thought the little girl would probably attack someone in detention and maybe get some time added on to her original sentence. No one thought it possible that she would serve the entire six months without severely hurting someone else. Surprisingly, however, that's just what happened, and at the end of the six months, she was released.

Al had been assured that he would receive victim notification of her release, although the person in the office of the prosecuting attorney apparently was unaware that since she was a juvenile who had not been tried as an adult, such notification was precluded by juvenile law. No one could legally notify him of anything, since she hadn't been tried as an adult. Jaycee was out, and she had returned home, but no one called Al, no one had even let him know they wouldn't be able to let him know.

Even more unfortunate for Al, she was living up to expectations by planning a visit to his apartment, so the first thing she did when she got home was shed her shoes and peel off her socks, leaving them in the middle of the living room for her hapless mother to pick up. Slamming the door after entering her bedroom, she took off her tee shirt, jeans, panties and training bra and slipped on her favorite fighting attire, which was an old, faded light blue bathing suit, one that was too small for her the last time she wore it, and she had grown about an inch and put on several pounds during her detention, so by now it looked as though her developing little body might spill out of it, or cause it to be torn partially off, like the clothing of The Incredible Hulk when he transformed from Bruce Banner into the well known comic book character.

A few moments later, she padded out of her apartment as her mother pleaded with her to stay home, like she was supposed to do. She wasn't supposed to be out after dark, and it would soon be dark. She finally asked her to “play nice,” trying to convince herself that her child was simply going to look up her little friends and do what normal little girls her age do, whatever that was these days, totally ignoring the fact that 1.she didn't have any friends, little or otherwise, and 2.Jaycee had never played nice with anyone, which is why she didn't have any friends, and 3.everyone else knew what she was going to do and had tried to convince her mom, but to say that she was in denial was like saying – well, there just weren't any good analogies. Jaycee's mom was beyond clueless. She was living in a complete fantasy land in which she believed her daughter could not be capable of any of the things of which she had been accused and convicted, even though many of these had been proven in court.

Al was also clueless. He didn't know she had been released, or that she was on her way over. He had spent many restless nights, some of them disturbed by vivid and violent nightmares of what she had done to him several months earlier, but he had reached a point where his mind had suffered an overload, refusing to accept any more of the extreme fears, so that even though he still remembered that an eleven-year-old girl named Jaycee (who was now just a few days short of her twelfth birthday) had beaten him so severely that he not only required medical treatment but actually spent two days in intensive care.

The old man, wearing a tee shirt, jeans and athletic shoes, was piddling around his kitchen as if it was just another day, which to him at that point, it was. She tried to open the front door, but not surprisingly, it was locked. Al had always kept his doors locked, even before Jaycee had beaten him senseless. She then walked around to the back, knowing that apartment complex doors were cheap and easy to break down, and this was even more true of back and side doors.

Suddenly there was a loud noise at the back of his apartment, just as Al was walking back into the living room. BAM. At first he thought it was coming from someone doing something in back of his home, and he was just startled. BAM. Another attempt. Al knew then it was Jaycee, and that she was trying to break in. He also knew the back door was not as solid as the front door. However, certainly an eleven-year-old girl would not be able to break the door down with what was undoubtedly a bare foot, not even one as strong as Jaycee. Still, he knew he should call the police, but stood there instead, like a deer caught in the headlights.

BAM. For Jaycee, the third time was the charm. She was suddenly running through the open doorway, heading straight for Al as he ran to the phone on the end table next to the sofa at the front of the apartment, hoping and silently praying that he would get there in time to call for help, but he knew she'd probably be on him before he could dial 911.

The good news was that he reached the phone, but the bad news was that Jaycee reached him at almost the same time, tackling and taking him down just as he grabbed the handset. She was now on his back, reaching for the handset as he reached for the base of the phone to dial those three life saving numbers. Suddenly she lifted herself in the air as though doing a handstand, which is basically what she was doing. Then she fell back down on him, slamming her knees into his back and knocking the handset to the floor.

He reached for it, but Jaycee did, too, and she grabbed it. Still, he was able to get to the base, hoping to call 911 so that he could yell for help when the dispatcher came on the line. Even if the child disconnected the call before he could say anything, since it was a landline, they would have his address and would send someone out to see what was going on. At least he hoped so, as that's the way it was supposed to work.

But it was not to be, as the child struck him on the head with the handset, then dropped it and wrestled the base of the phone away from him, striking his head this time with the base. She then pulled it loose from the jack on the wall and threw it across the room and went to work on Al, who was able to roll her off his back, then stand up in hopes of getting away and running out the front door. However, that was not to be, either, as she grabbed his lower legs and pull them out from under him, toppling him to the floor.

He landed on his back with the child climbing on top of him, clenched fist drawn back. He raised a hand to block it, but she used her other hand to pull it out of the way, then punched him hard in the nose, sending shock waves of pain through his head. She straddled him, clutching his throat with her fingers and choking the shit out of him. He slammed his knees into her back, knocking her forward so that she landed on her hands and knees above him, which he knew was not the ideal position for him, so he reached up and pushed her to the left. However, Jaycee grabbed two handfuls of his hair and pulled him over with her, so that he ended up on top of her.

Before he could do anything, her bare legs went into action, quickly sliding around his waist and clenching him tightly as she locked her ankles behind him. Still firmly gripping his hair, she head butted him, then wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his body in as she tightened her grip with her arms and legs, and proceeded to squeeze the hell out of him.

He had not forgotten the power of her legs, but was still shocked at the pain she could inflict with them as she crushed him. To make it worse, her scissor hold took away his ability to breathe, something else he could never forget, but he was still amazed at how easily she could suffocate him. The little girl had not lost her ability to torture him and had easily picked up where she left off. This time, however, she intended to finish him off.

Al pounded her legs with his fists and tried to pull them away, but without success. He punched the back of her head, desperate to escape her clutches, but nothing worked. He was at her mercy, and of course, she had none. The little girl continued to squeeze him, and the only thing keeping him from screaming was the fact that he couldn't breathe. He soon passed out.

When he came to, she was standing over him with a bare foot on his face. That's when he screamed. “Help! Somebody help me! She's killing me!”

The cruel child placed her foot over his mouth. He grabbed her ankle and tried to pull it away, but she was putting all her weight on it, preventing him from moving it. He grabbed her toes with both hands, pulling and pushing them in hopes of inflicting enough pain to get her to move her foot so that he could continue calling for help, but as usual, she seemed not to feel the slightest bit of pain. She was incredibly strong, knew how to fight and wrestle, and felt no pain, so how could he defeat her, even if she was just a little girl not even in her teens? He couldn't, and he knew it.

Officer Jack Wimbley, who had dealt with Jaycee and her brutal attacks on neighborhood boys numerous times, made a point of going by Al's apartment to check on him several times a day, even when he was not on duty. He had been there one night after Jaycee had given a boy a skull fracture, and her stupid excuse for a mother implied they had only been playing, and that it was an accident. He was just a few doors down this afternoon when he heard a man cry for help. Certain that it was Al, he ran to his apartment and knocked on the front door and tried to open it, but it was locked.

“POLICE!” He shouted, as he kicked the door in. Rushing in, he found the child standing over Al with her foot on his face. Pulling his gun, he yelled, “Get away from him and put your hands up.” The last part of the order was unnecessary, as she was obviously unarmed and wearing nothing but what he thought was a swimsuit that was obviously too small for her.

Jaycee complied with the order to move away, but showed no fear and refused to raise her hands. She just smiled and started walking toward the policeman, a man she had hated since the first time he had pulled her off of a boy she had been beating up. Officer Wimbley couldn't believe she showed no fear of the gun, but Jaycee calmly continued moving in his direction. He continued to hold the gun on her, for what little good it was doing. Al was still on the floor, too afraid to try to assist the officer.

Al later wished he had at least tried to her down from behind. Maybe then what happened would have been different. The poor man tried to convince himself he was afraid the officer would fire his gun and accidentally shoot him, but that wasn't the reason and he knew it. Al would soon regret his cowardice.

Ordinarily he would never have pulled his gun on an eleven-year-old girl, much less held the gun on her once he realized how young she was, but he also knew this was no ordinary eleven-year-old girl. “Freeze!” he yelled. He knew this little girl was dangerous, but he still had no idea how dangerous she was. He was about to find out.

“Freeze,” Officer Wimbley yelled again, a little louder this time.

“Nuh-uh,” Jaycee said, still slowly walking toward him, now in a wrestler's crouch, hands and arms extended in his direction in an invitation to fight. “What are you gonna do? Shoot me? I don't have a gun. You gonna shoot an unarmed little girl?” she asked him. “If I get my hands on that gun, I'm gonna blow a big old hole in the middle of your fat stomach and make a giant doughnut out of you,” she continued. “Then I'm gonna eat you.”

Officer Wimbley had no answer to that, other than to tell her again to freeze and put her hands up, which Jaycee still refused to do. He started backing away, and just when he was about to reach for his radio, she charged, ramming him in the chest with her head and taking him to the floor.

They wrestled, rolling over and over each other. Jaycee had one hand on the gun and her other arm around the officer's neck. Officer Wimbley was 50 years old and not in the best of shape for a police officer. He struggled to get in shape for physicals, and just barely passed his last one. Before he could think of a plan for dealing with this situation, the little girl pulled the hand holding the gun to her mouth and bit it as hard as she could, causing Officer Wimbley to yelp and release the gun.

She quickly grabbed it and stood, straddling the policeman and pointing the gun at him. He reached for the radio, and she said, “Drop the radio or I'll blow all them doughnuts out of your stomach, pig.” Stunned and scared, he dropped it to the floor. Jaycee slammed him in the face with a bare foot, then reached down and picked up the radio, then tossed it behind the sofa.

“Please don't shoot me,” Officer Wimbley begged. She didn't want to kill him – at least, not yet – but she wanted to go back to work on Al, who was slowly recovering. She turned and saw him pulling himself to his feet, but the only threat he presented was that he might run out the door for help.

“Don't move,” she said to Al, “or I'll shoot your little itty bitty fucking balls off.” She then turned back to Officer Wimbley. Despite her threat to Al, she still kept the gun on the policeman. Then she got a very cruel idea and smiled.

“Get something to tie him up,” she told the policeman.

“I don't have any rope,” Al said to the girl, wondering what she had in mind.

Jaycee noticed what appeared to be a new stereo almost directly in front of her, with a roll of speaker wire and a pair of wire cutters next to it. Al loved music, and spent more time listening to old records and CDs than he did watching TV. “Use that,” she said. “Tie him up,” she once again told the policeman.

Wimbley walked over to the roll of wire and did as the girl instructed., tying Al's hands behind him, and then his ankles. Jaycee checked to see that the wire was sufficiently tight and the knots secure. Seeing a handkerchief on the end table, she told the officer to make a gag for Al. It was a little too small to fit around his head, so she told him to just stuff it in his mouth. She then tossed the gun behind the sofa, turned to the officer, once again in a wrestler's crouch and ready to fight, and said, “Now, let's wrestle. Wrestle me good, 'cause you're gonna be fighting for your fucking life.”

The policeman was relieved but shocked that she would throw the gun away and want to wrestle him. He knew she was tough, strong as hell if fact. But even though he was out of shape, he figured he could certainly overpower her and resolve the problem rather quickly. He knew he'd have to defend against a couple of hard punches and kicks to the face, and he'd definitely have to protect his privates, as the little girl would undoubtedly go after him there with her bare feet. He'd seen her kick a boy in the nuts so hard he threw up before the officer could stop her, so that was his main concern as far as his own safety.

However, his biggest overall concern was that he didn't want to accidentally injure the girl. That would be difficult to explain in an incident report, and he'd already be a laughing stock just for having to fight her at all. Naive to say the least, the doomed officer had no idea that in a few minutes he'd be more frightened than he'd been in his entire life, and that there would be good reason for it. After six months in detention, Jaycee was more dangerous than ever. Far more dangerous.

Al had been terrified that she would use the gun to kill him and the cop, but when she tossed the gun away, he, too, was relieved. However, it was obvious the child wanted to continue fighting, and she was starting with Officer Wimbley. But since she came here to kill him, not fight with a cop, why didn't she just shoot him and the officer? He thought maybe she just wanted to hurt them both as much as possible, but somehow he didn't think so. She wanted him dead. She almost killed him over six months ago, and she didn't come back just to rough him up.

He knew that this child enjoyed nothing more than beating people up, and that a weapon, whether it was a gun or a knife, would probably just take the fun away. He suddenly realized what she wanted to do, and it scared the shit out of him, because he knew first hand what this child could do with her bare hands and feet, and certainly with her legs. Still, certainly a police officer, a younger man if still middle aged and out of shape, would be able to handle her in hand to hand combat. Wouldn't he? But what she was able to do soon sent chills down his spine.

“I'm gonna beat the shit out of you with my bare hands and my bare feet,” she told the stunned officer, who was still confident he could beat her. “Then I'm gonna put you between my legs and really go to work on you,” she said. “I don't mean just until you cry. I'm gonna crush you between my legs until you fucking DIE. And there's not a damn thing you can do to stop me,” she continued. “But for your sake, you batter try. You damn sure better try, because if you don't, I'm gonna kill you.” Then,” she said, as she turned to Al, “I'm gonna kill you, old man, but first, I'm gonna hurt you so bad you'll be begging me to let you die.”

Turning back to the policeman, she said, “At least you're gonna die a little quicker than the old man. I'm gonna work on him a long time before I kill him. Of course, your death is gonna be pretty bad, as I'm not gonna kill you right away, either. I'm gonna have some fun with you, too, but your death will be a little more merciful than his. Not much, but a little.”

Poor Officer Wimbley couldn't believe what he was hearing, but Al could, and did. He believed she meant every word of it, and that she would do it, unless Wimbley could beat her. Al had come to realize he couldn't, so his life depended on the out of shape police officer, who was younger and probably stronger, but still not as young as he used to be, and not in the best shape for a cop. Still, he had to be able to defeat the barefoot little girl, or he and Al both would surely die.

“Now, let's wrestle,” she told the policeman, as she assumed a wrestling stance, knees slightly bent, arms and hands extended in an invitation to fight for his life. The poor cop couldn't believe it, but he had dealt with this little heathen often enough before tonight, and for the first time had actually tangled with her so that he knew she was serious, not just about wanting to wrestle him, which she had already done when she took the gun away, but wanting to kill him.

But he was still confident. He just didn't want to hurt her, that was all. He figured what the hell, humor her. He also assumed a wrestling stance, and they circled each other. The girl lunged a time or two, and laughed when the cop jumped a little. After another minute of toying with him, she moved in and locked up with him. They tangled standing up, pushing each other. The policeman was surprsed when she turned him around and shoved him backward, forcing him into the wall. She slammed a knee into his crotch and stepped forward when he bent over, clenching his head between her thighs.

She looped her arms under his and placed her hands palms down on his back, then took him down in a perfectly executed pedigree. “Shit,” the policeman yelled, as he face and nose were slammed into the floor. His nose started bleeding. The wicked little girl was just getting started, as she got down on the floor, looking back at Al to make sure he was watching.

She then grabbed Wembley's right arm and clenched it between her legs, just as she had done his head a few seconds earlier, and trapped him in a wrist lock, holding his arm in place with her legs while she twisted his wrist until he screamed in pain. She then pulled back harder on his arm and placed her bare feet on his face, not only humiliating him as she wiped his face with her rusty callouses, but continuing to twist his wrist, pulling and twisting his arm and causing incredible pain for the officer, who was screaming even louder.

“Oh God, that hurts. Please stop. That hurts so fucking bad,” he screamed. “Please, I give, you win.”

“Nuh uh,” Jaycee said. “Submissions don't count in this match. Winner takes all.” He shuddered to think what she meant, which was that she planned to take his life. Of course he knew it would never come to that.

Al wasn't so sure. He was getting more and more frightened as he saw the girl having her way with the hapless officer. Now and then the child would look his way, sometimes mouthing the words “You're next,” as if he needed reminding.

Realizing the cop was completely helpless against her, she released him, but not for long. She got up, walked around to his feet and pulled his left leg up, standing with her left leg on the right side of it, then she spun completely around, facing him. He knew what she was doing, but was powerless to stop her, as she placed his left ankle on his right knee, shaping his legs into a figure four. Then she lay down in front of him, hooking her left leg over his left foot, then applied tremendous pressure. He was now trapped in a figure four leg lock, and all he could do was scream even louder.

He slapped the floor with his hands, pounded it with his fists, but mostly he screamed. She continued pouring on the pressure, showing no mercy. Finally she yelled, “SHUT THE FUCK UP,” then stopped, mainly because she was afraid he would alert someone with his screaming. If Al couldn't scream, he shouldn't, either.

She stood beside him, bare fee spread with her arms crossed, then she placed her hands on her hips. “Get up,” she ordered him, nudging his face with her naked toes. He was slow to respond, so she yelled, “GET THE FUCK UP.”

He got up slowly and stood there facing her as she started circling him again in a crouch, hands and arms extended. “I'm not finished with you, piggy,” she said menacingly. “I'm a long way from being finished with you.”

They circled around each other, then the policeman decided he no longer wanted anything to do with the little girl, telling himself that when he beat her – not if, but when – it would be difficult to explain any injuries to her, as who would believe he had to hurt a little girl to keep her from beating him up and killing him? He would at best be a laughing stock, and at worst, he'd lose his job and maybe even be arrested and charged with assaulting a child. He had to get somewhere and call for backup, as she had tossed his radio. He convinced himself he wasn't really afraid of her, even though she was kicking his ass. He was just fearful of what he might accidentally do to her. That's why he decided to flee, not because...What they hell, he was scared shitless and figured he might as well admit it, at least to himself, and he didn't have to put that on any incident report. So he ran like hell, hoping and praying she wouldn't catch him.

To be continued...

Last edited by dirksneath; 16-Sep-18 at 11:02.
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Old 16-Sep-18, 20:01
dirksneath dirksneath is offline
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Default Re: Jaycee's Revenge

Part 2

The vicious little girl went after the police officer, determined not to let him get away. Al watched in horror at the little girl's rapidly moving bare feet as she chased the poor man down and tackled him, taking him to the floor before he even made it to the door. Al was not very confident in Wimbley's ability to beat the girl and had hoped he could outrun her, but the child was as fast as she was strong. He knew that if she succeeded in at least incapacitating the policeman, he would be next, and she'd certainly kill him.

The child twisted the older cop in knots, wrapping her arms around his neck and legs around his waist from behind. At first, Al thought she might not be able to completely capture him in a body scissor, as the officer was so overweight, but when he saw her ankles lock, he knew she had him. The man grunted and groaned as the little girl went to work on him, crushing him, and Al knew he'd never be able to escape her legs. His heart beat rapidly in his chest, knowing what was at stake for both of them. “Please, God, please,” he muttered through the hankie in his mouth. “Please help him beat her. Please.” But he knew by now it wasn't going to happen.

As the cruel little girl worked the poor cop over with her powerful legs, she locked eyes with her terrified witness and smiled. “Look at me good, old man. Look real close at what I'm doing, 'cause I'm gonna go back to work on you when I'm through with this one, and this is how I'm gonna kill you.”

She then gave the man a powerful leg squeeze, closing her eyes and scrunching up her face to show how much pressure she was applying. The officer's eyes were also closed as his face reacted to the pain in much the same way as Jaycee's face did from the physical exertion. Tears soon streamed down his cheeks.

“Please...Please stop,” the now terrified officer begged, when he was finally able to breathe for a few seconds.

“Nuh-uh,” Jaycee said, continuing to inflict incredible pain with her insanely powerful legs. “You're gonna die between my legs, and it's really, really gonna hurt. You have no idea how bad, as what you're feeling now is nothing compared to what you're gonna feel before I'm through with you.”

He pulled on her legs and pounded on them, but nothing worked. In a panic, he tried to calm down and think of something. He reached behind and grabbed her by the hair and pulled, but he might as well have been stroking her hair affectionately. He remembered boys, still crying over the beatings they had received, telling him how hard they had fought back, how they hit her and kicked her, but nothing worked. “She doesn't feel pain,” is what one boy, age 15 had told him, embarrassed over having been beaten up by a ten-year-old girl, which is how young she was at the time. He kept saying it as he cried: “She doesn't feel pain, she doesn't feel anything. She's not human,” the boy had said.

He let go of her hair and tried to punch her face, although he really didn't want to cause a black eye or any other visible injury, especially to her face. He didn't need to worry about that, however, as he couldn't effectively punch someone behind him. He grabbed her hair again and pulled her head forward, once more trying to hit her, this time on top of her head, but she just pulled herself free and went back to crushing him, not just with her legs but with her arms, which were tightly wound around his neck. She had been holding back. The pain he experienced this time was the worst yet, not to mention the fact that he could hardly breathe.

“It's time for you to die, piggy, so I can go back to working on my main man over there,” she said, glancing at Al with an evil grin. Al trembled, knowing she meant it. Whether she was able to kill the policeman or not, and Al had no doubt she meant to and was probably capable of it, she definitely meant to kill him, and would do it as soon as she was finished with the policeman.

Officer Wembley was really starting to panic now, especially hearing her say again that she was going to kill him. He hadn't believed it earlier, but now he was becoming a believer. He was still able to breathe, but only a little. He remembered that some killers wrapped towels around the faces of victims who were able to breathe enough to keep them alive for long periods, but at some point it was not enough, and over a long period of extreme suffering, they slowly died. The thought horrified him. Finally the little girl relaxed to take a breather herself, giving him a respite. He thought now would be a good time to free himself, so he went back to trying to separate her legs with his trembling hands, but to no avail.

Al thought the most terrifying thing in the world was to have to watch an evil human being beat and crush another person, killing him, knowing that the person being forced to watch would be next. That's what some serial killers did. Even when she had beaten and crushed him the same way, he had not been this frightened. Tom Petty had been right. The waiting really was the hardest part, especially when you knew you were next up for a savage beating that would end your life.

Al realized he didn't have to watch, so he closed his eyes. However, that made it even worse. He could still hear the fight, and the sounds of the struggle seemed to be intensified when he wasn't watching. He could hear the man groaning and grunting with the pain: “Uuuhhhnnn,” “Ooooh,” “Nnnnnngh.” And the girl exerting terrible pressure on the soon to be dead man with her powerful legs: “Ughhhhh,” the short bursts of power as she flexed her leg muscles, then relaxed: “Uh.....uh.....uh.” The man, begging her: “Please, stop. DON'T.” And the man, begging God to help him in a whisper that seemed amplified when Al closed his eyes: “Please God, help me. Don't let her do this. Please.” What was happening before his eyes was bad enough. What happened in his imagination when he closed his eyes was even worse.

Wimbley saw her bare feet resting on his stomach as she went back to crushing him with her legs, ankles tightly locked. He grabbed her feet and pulled, trying to unlock them and pull her legs away, but he might as well have been pulling on two steel cables. When that failed, he pulled on her toes, trying to inflict some pain on the girl so that she would release him. He jerked her big toe one way and the other toes the other way. That didn't work either, as the child did not seem to feel pain at all. That was part of what made her so dangerous, so unbeatable, he thought, remembering what other victims had told him. He hadn't really believed it – until now. Now be believed it, and was more frightened than ever.

As hard as she crushed him, she couldn't seem to knock him out, and if she couldn't make him pass out, she couldn't kill him. She wanted to dispose of him so she could go back to torturing Al, as he was the reason she was here. She finally released the officer, not out of mercy but because it wasn't working. She reversed her position, sliding into the man's lap and slipping her arms around his neck as she coiled her lethal legs around his midsection, facing him this time. She went back to work on him, trying to squash him like a bug.

“Uuunnnggghhhh,” she groaned as she exerted as much pressure as she could, causing the poor cop to grimace in pain. She released his neck and leaned back, flexing her leg muscles as hard as she could, putting maximum pressure on his waist. Then she pulled forward and captured his neck with her arms again. Over the next five minutes she alternated between leaning back and straining as hard as she could with her legs and sitting up to crush his neck with her arms while continuing to squeeze his midsection with her legs. He cried out in pain, but still, she knew what she was doing was not going to accomplish her ultimate goal. She wanted to hurt him, to hear him cry in pain, and that part was working just fine. But she wanted more. She wanted to kill him.

Al continued to tremble in fear that few men experience in their lives. He knew what the problem was, and that it was just a matter of time before Jaycee realized it, too. The officer was too fat. She had her legs wrapped all the way around him, and was putting him through incredible pain and making it difficult for him to breathe, but she'd never be able to kill him that way. All she could do was make the poor man suffer. There was hope, Al thought. She couldn't kill him, so there was hope.

But not for long. Jaycee, finally understanding the problem, released him again and wrestled him back down when he tried to stand and flee. She wasn't giving up, and she wasn't letting him go. Oh, no. That would never happen. She simply had to figure out another way to kill him, and soon she knew what to do. Al saw the look on her face, the sudden gleam in her eye, and he knew what she was going to do before she did it.

She got behind him again and pulled him back into her waiting thighs, her deadly thighs, but this time she slid them around his neck and throat, once again locking her ankles and crushing him with all her might. Her legs were a little on the large side for a girl her age, but they were solid, all muscle. The officer once more cried out in pain and terror, and his hands once more went to her legs in a futile attempt to separate them, to save himself from the suffering. But of course, it didn't work. She had him, and she had him good. It was the beginning of the end for Officer Wimbley, whose suffering was to continue a few minutes longer, but then it would be over, and that would be all she wrote for the poor man who had simply wanted to save an old man from the wrath of an evil little psychopath who was as dangerous as any adult he had ever encountered, and far more than most.

She wrestled him, rolling over and over, the girl twisting his head this way and that as she continued to pour on the pressure. Once again he grabbed her dirty bare feet and pulled desperately at her naked toes. He couldn't breathe at all this time, and she was able to continue squeezing him without mercy without taking a break herself, as she was pulling on her foot to apply the pressure, and could do that indefinitely. She released her foot and used both hands to grab his head, then started twisting his head to one side, determined to take him out by breaking his neck.

“Dear God!” he cried out in pain and terror. “Oh, dear God, please help me!”

If God heard, he did not respond. Jaycee kept pulling his head further and further while clamping down hard with her legs, keeping it in place while she twisted his head to the point he couldn't stand it any more and neither could his neck. Al then heard the most terrifying sound he'd ever heard in his life, a sound like a branch snapping, but it was the man's neck. His head collapsed, rolling to the top of one of her thighs. Officer Wimbley was no longer in pain. His suffering was finally over, and so was his life.

The girl released him and pushed his dead body away with her bare feet. She was done with that one. But not the other one. She looked up slowly, locking her gaze on her next victim, and smiled. “You're next,” she said, slowly getting to her feet.

“Noooo,” Al screamed, or tried to scream, which the handkerchief in his mouth prevented him from doing. He shook and jerked as hard as he could, trying to free himself from the cords, but he couldn't do it. She slowly padded toward him, in no hurry to get there, knowing the longer it took, the more terrified he would be.

“I can hardly wait to get you between my legs again, so I can do the same thing to you,” she said. “But I'm gonna work on you longer...a LOT longer.”

Al's futile struggles only caused him to roll over on his side on the floor. He could do nothing but watch her bare feet slowly getting closer...closer...closer. She knelt down and untied him, removed the handkerchief, and then pulled the man up to his feet by the collar of his shirt, only to punch him in the face, knocking him back down again. She then fell on him and wrestled him, placing her hand over his mouth when she saw him about to call out for help.

Al found the strength to throw her off and run for the front door, but she was up and after him in no time. He somehow made it to the door, but no further. As soon as he grabbed the doorknob and opened the door about six inches, she was on him, leaping onto his back and putting one hand around his mouth, while wrapping the other arm around his neck. Still on his back, she kicked the door shut with a bare foot. The man, knowing she was going to wrap her legs around him, fell backward onto the floor, the child landing first with Al on top.

He somehow broke free, got to his feet and ran again, this time toward the kitchen, which was much too far away for him to have any chance of making it, as the child was once more up and after him. He had actually gotten a fairly good head start this time. He was afraid to look behind him, but could could detect the scuffling of her bare feet on the floor as she got closer and closer. She took him down with a tackle, wrapping her arms around his lower legs and causing him to fall forward, scraping his chin on the worn out carpet as he crashed to the floor, the girl scampering on top of his back.

He had hoped to get a knife and use it to defend himself. Whether he would have been able to stab an unarmed little girl or not, he didn't know. He wondered if she would have felt threatened or if she would have just tried to wrestle the knife away from him like she took the gun away from the officer. Probably the latter, as the evil child didn't seem to feel fear any more than she felt pain, but he would never know. Instead, he was once more wrestling for his life with no weapon, nothing but the little strength and fighting ability he had with which to defend himself and save his life.

She pulled his arms up and back, placing his arms across her legs as she applied a chin-lock, sitting on his upper back and pulling back, hard. The pain was excruciating. No one knew where Jaycee got her incredible strength. There were genetic factors, as her father had been a weightlifter back in the day, but Jaycee had never worked out with weights. She took gymnastics for awhile, and was quite good. One of her instructors, a young man right out of college, had commented on her incredible strength. Unfortunately for him, he was subjected to it one day when she jumped on him for paying more attention to another girl than to her. It took three people to pull her off of him. But nothing could explain how strong this girl was. She was referred to be some who had to deal with her as a biological freak.

Jaycee wasn't very intelligent, but she was smart enough to know she could do serious damage to the man's spine with a camel clutch hold if she applied all her strength and maximum pressure. However, she did not do that, not because she was in any way sympathetic. She just didn't want to hurt him so badly that he would be too easy to put away. She wanted to work on him for a long time, and she wanted to put him away for good with her legs. That, plus the fact that he started screaming, caused her to release him after a few seconds. She rolled off, kicking him away with a bare foot to his chest as he lay on his side facing her, then jumped on him and wrestled him.

She quickly ended up on top, facing him, but not for long, as she started to roll him over to his side. Al knew what she wanted to do, and was desperate to stop her. She wanted to get her legs around him. He knew it would be all over for him if that happened. She wrapped one arm around his neck and one hand over his mouth to keep him from screaming, then threw one leg over his body, or tried to. Al was able to scoot just far enough away to keep her from capturing him with her leg, but the child also scooted closer to him, causing him to have to keep moving back and away from her.

The man kept struggling to keep away from her lethal legs, but the little girl was too fast for him. She was able to keep after him until she got that one leg around him, pushing on his back with her bare foot to hold him in place until she could maneuver herself close enough to readjust her leg and wrap it around him. When she got her body right up next to his, she tightened her arm and leg around him, pulling him over and on top, so that she was able to throw the other leg around him and lock her ankles, consolidating her deadly scissor hold on the struggling man. She pulled her hand away from his mouth, knowing he couldn't scream when he couldn't even breathe.

“Gotcha,” she said. “I got you good, and now I'm gonna start killing you. You'll live a little longer, but you'll be begging me to kill you, 'cause I'm gonna make you suffer so bad. Oh how I'm gonna beat you up. I'm gonna tear you into little pieces, put you back together, tear you apart again, and then I'm really gonna hurt you. All that fucking cop did was make me want to make you suffer even more. He just made what's left of your life even worse.”

“Please don't,” he begged, when she eased up on him enough for him to catch a breath. “Please, stop.” He started to call out for help, but she tightened up on him again so he couldn't.

“Nuh-uh,” she said. “I'm not letting you get away this time.” She then squeezed as hard as she could, causing the man to moan in pain.

She worked him over like this for several minutes, letting up only to catch her own breath before bearing down on the poor man again. She wanted to hurt him for as long as possible to make up for all the time she had spent in that awful juvenile home. He had already sent her there once, for three months, after she had beat up that little crippled boy. Then when she went after the old man to get him back for what he did, she almost killed him then, but the father of that little shit had called the cops.

The boy and his father were also on her list for revenge. She was going to get them next. She was going to kill that little shit and make his father watch. Then she was going to kill him, too. She had gotten a thrill killing that fat ass cop and making Al watch, so she could hardly wait to do it again. The idea of not just beating up some kid, but beating up adults and even killing her thrilled her. She might kill someone else, just for fun.

She started thinking of other people she would love to murder, then thought it might be fun just to pick some other old fart at random. Jaycee had been in the center so long she didn't know if all her old neighbors still lived in the apartment complex, but there was this one old man who used to live down from her. His wife was dead, and he lived alone like Al. He once yelled at her because he caught her chasing his dumb old cat. She later killed the cat, breaking its neck with her bare hands, then left it on his doorstep. He came over crying, blaming her. Her mom told him to fuck off and slammed the door.

The cat had scratched her, but of course it didn't hurt, as she felt no pain. However, she had had to make up some lame excuse to her mom about picking up a puppy and getting scratched. Her mom had insisted on taking her for a tetanus shot at the health department, where she once again had to provide the same lame excuse. When she killed Al's cat a few week's later, before deciding to kill him too, she had used a brick instead of breathing it's little fucking neck so she wouldn't end up with scratches.

So she could kill that old man, just for fun, if he wasn't already dead or in a nursing home. She didn't try to think of any kids, as she had had her first taste in not only beating up a man, which she had done before when she beat up the gymnastics instructor, but killing one. And now she had killed one man and was killing another man, and it felt so good she knew she wanted to do it again, after she finished off Al and destroyed the wimpy little creepy kid and his dad.

Since old folks had started moving in more and more frequently over the last year, there might be one she didn't even know yet. If so, she could knock on his door and make herself cry because her little puppy dog ran away and she needed help finding him. Old men who were suckers for cute kids were so stupid, he'd probably help her look for the little fucker who didn't even exist, then invite her in for a Coke and some cookies, and she could sit there acting all sugar and spicy and then kill him.

She'd be famous, the first little girl serial killer. She might even kill some other people, just for fun, just to see how many she could kill with her bare hands, her bare feet, and of course, her bare legs. But first there was Al. She had to finish killing him, but there was no hurry. She had all night, all fucking night.

To be continued...
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Old 17-Sep-18, 04:15
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Default Re: Jaycee's Revenge

Part 3

She crushed him, and she crushed him as hard as she could. She grunted with the exertion while he groaned in pain. He knew he couldn't take much more of this. Now and then his eyes fell on the body of the dead cop, and he knew he was going to be dead soon, if he didn't do something, and fast. This evil little girl had already killed one man right in front of him, and was going to kill him, too. He never understood how people could feel such terror as many did before dying and somehow survive. He still didn't.

They wrestled, rolling over and over each other. No matter who was on top, Al's situation was the same. He was still being destroyed by the girls powerful legs, and her arms, still wound around his neck, causing more pain and discomfort. He was not able to breathe most of the time, and when she relaxed long enough for him to take a breath, he gulped air as quickly as he could, because his respite was always short, as she was soon bearing down on him again.

Al was exhausted and hurt badly, but he somehow struggled to his knees with the girl wound tightly around him. She tried to push forward to take him back down to the floor, but he put his arm behind him and his hand on the floor to brace himself to keep from falling, then found the strength, probably with help from adrenaline, to stumble to his feet. He then got a running start, aiming for the wall, and then BAM, he hit the wall, or rather forced the girl's back to hit the wall.

They both hit the floor and the child released him from her deadly grasp immediately as they each sprawled on their backs. The girl started to recover first, slowly getting to her knees. Al sat up and started scooting away from her on his butt as started crawling toward him on her hands and knees.

“I'm gonna GET YOU,” she said in a singsong voice.

“No...No...” he said, still backing up, using his hands and feet to slide away from her.

“Grrrr,” she said, making a claw out of one hand. “I'm a tiger, and I'm gonna eat you alive,” she said as she slowly pursued, toying with him in what for her was an unusually playful mood. “Grrrr.”

Suddenly she raised the middle part of her body so she was on her hands and the balls of her feet with her butt in the air, like a cat about to leap on its prey, then sprang forward, pouncing on her victim as she continued to snarl and wrestle the man, pinning him and growling like a little girl playfully tussling with her grandfather, except there was nothing playful about Jaycee. She was evil, and the evidence was lying a few yards away on the floor, a man who had lived the last twenty-five of his fifty years serving as a policeman.

The girl grabbed his hands and pushed them to the floor as she crawled on his shoulders, trapping him in a schoolgirl pin. She started working her mouth, and in a few seconds she opened it and dropped a glob of saliva in the middle of is face, then spat the remainder of it out on him. She still held his hands with hers so he couldn't wipe his face. A few seconds later, she did it again.

The old man bucked her up and down, raising his midsection and trying to roll her off, but she rode him as he hoisted and dropped, hoisted and dropped, moving one way and then the other, but she was still riding him, refusing to be dislodged. She was too strong. The little girl was just too damned strong for the man. He pulled his legs up so they were bent at the knees and pushed, his feet flat on the floor, trying to dislodge her, but then stopped, realizing that if he succeeded, she'd just get those legs around him, and that's the last thing he wanted. She was sitting too high on his body for him to be able to slam his knees into her back, or to bring his legs up and in front of her. He didn't have anywhere nearly enough flexibility for that.

She still had her knees on his shoulders, which hurt a little but not too much, with her bare feet on either side of his body, her toes splayed out like claws on the worn out cheap carpet. The child dropped another glob of spit on his face, then leaped slightly into the air, bringing her knees down hard on his chest, knocking the breath from him and causing him to cry in pain. Still holding his hands behind him on the floor, she crawled up on his face.

His mouth was pressed against the crotch of her leotard so that his lips were separated from her most private part by a narrow, cheap piece of polyester. It was not only humiliating, but he had difficulty breathing, which she made even worse by finally releasing his hands and using the fingers of one hand to pinch his nose so that he couldn't breathe at all. His hands were now free, and he used them to fight her, punching her arms, her sides, her legs and anything else he could reach, including her head. Still, she sat on him, suffocating him.

As if things weren't already humiliating enough, she peed on him urine flowing down his face and into his mouth. He coughed, spitting and sputtering as the foul smelling substance overwhelmed him. She clamped down on him so hard, however, some of it remained, trickling down his throat, almost making him vomit. He knew if he did, he'd choke on it, and he didn't want to die that way, didn't want to die at all, but especially choking on her urine and his own vomit. The thought sent new terror flooding his body, and he prayed a silent prayer for God to save him from this little she-devil.

He rolled one way and then the other, and finally succeeded in toppling her, but he then went from the frying pan into the fire, as she took him with her and wrapped her legs around his neck. Temporarily free to take a few much needed gulps of air, he screamed, as he remembered how she killed Officer Wimbley. Soon she was on her back with the man on his stomach in front of her. She grabbed his nose again, once more pinching his nostrils shut so he could not breathe. He was in a panic, knowing she could either choke him to death with those powerful legs or break his neck, whichever she chose. He figured it would be the former, as he remembered her telling him more than once that she wanted to kill him slowly. Once again he pounded her legs with his fists, knowing it was just an exercise in futility. She had him, and she had him good, which was bad for him.

She twisted his head around so that he was facing away from her, then hooked her right leg across his throat and grabbed her right foot, converting the hold into a figure four, crushing his windpipe and making it so hard to breathe she no longer needed to pinch his nostrils, so she moved her hands to her hair, grabbing two handfuls of it and pulling, causing even more pain. He flopped around like a fish out of water, struggling to breathe. By putting the pressure on his throat by pulling on her foot the way she was doing, she didn't have to exert as much of herself, so she didn't need to relax to breathe. She was thus able to keep him from breathing for a long time, causing his struggles to slow, then cease altogether, as he passed out.

When he came to, she was lightly slapping his face with her bare foot. Once his eyes fluttered open, she reached down and pulled him up by his hair, saying “Get up.”

As soon as he was on his feet, he punched her as hard in the stomach as he could, then knocked her to the floor with a powerful punch to the face. The poor man was scared shitless and fighting for his life. As soon as she started to get up he kicked her in the face, then started stomping her, using his right foot at first, then changing from one foot to the other. The old man wished he had been wearing a heavy set of boots, or something with which he could demolish her other than a soft soled pair of athletic shoes, but they would have to do. He had to hurt her, he had to beat her. Otherwise she'd get up and kill him.

He stopped, leaned down and pulled her up by the hair, as he screamed “How do you like it, you little bitch, you fucking little bitch. How do you like it, huh? How do you like it?”

He punched her in the face, once again knocking her down, then started kicking and stomping her again. She was able to grab one leg and pull him down to the floor, then jump on him, but Al was a man on fire. He threw her off, got up again and stumbled as she once again grabbed his pants leg to pull him back down, but he shook his leg free and stomped her again before bending down again to pick her up.

Once again he picked her up and they wrestled, standing up, the girl throwing her arms around his neck in an attempt to take him back down to the floor in hopes of coiling those deadly legs around him again. He knew that was her goal, and was determined to stay on his feet. He started to push her as hard as he could, wrapping his arms around her waist as he shoved her across the room. He removed his arms from her waist and pushed her into the wall as hard as he could, then put his hands under her armpits and lifted her a couple of inches off the floor and slammed her into the wall and held her there, intending to punch her in the stomach and then the face again, but at first he just wanted to glare at her and hopefully see fear in her eyes.

However, the little girl just smiled, and by the time he realized the reason, it was too late. She shot her legs out and around him, locking her ankles and crushing him as hard as she could. Al's hands instinctively went to her legs as he tried in vain to separate them, then started punching them, which of course did no good. He had her. He was winning, but just like that, she pulled a reversal, and now it was Jaycee who had him. Still he fought, backing up and then running, smashing her back into the wall as hard as he could.

Unfortunately, it wasn't hard enough, as she still clung to him with her legs. Then she started squeezing him. She grabbed his hair and wrapped her arms around his head, almost lovingly, not trying to hurt him, just holding him. She had the man's ribs under the gun, as she was higher up on his body than usual. He stumbled around, then fell to the floor, hoping the wicked child would release him, but she didn't, at least not completely. She loosened her hold for a couple of seconds, then readjusted slightly and went back to pouring on the pressure, grunting with the exertion as she crushed him harder and harder while he writhed in pain under her, the girl ending up on top.

After about thirty more seconds, he heard a muffled popping sound coming from his chest. He screamed long and loud, causing Jaycee to press his face into her chest, muffling the sound as she continued brutalizing him with her rock solid thighs. Al was so exhausted, he had no fight left. His punches, never very effective to begin with, were now so weak as to be almost laughable. He pulled on her legs, pushed her buttocks, none of which came close to giving him the freedom he so desperately needed in order to have some hope of surviving her devastating assault. The pain from his cracked rib was the worst she had inflicted on him yet.

“It hurts,” he said in a voice that was more of a whine. “IT HURTS SO BAD.”

“Not as bad as it's going to hurt,” she hissed in his ear, then bit his earlobe.

She slowly ran her fingers through his hair as she continued holding her arms loosely around his head in what looked more like a lover's embrace than anything else. If someone had heard the grunts and the groans without seeing the horror of what was happening, they would have thought it was the sound of a couple making love. His mouth opened in a silent scream, although after a few seconds a long, low moaned escaped his lips.

“Please,” he said, now starting to sob. “Please...”

As she continued slowly destroying him, he could see Wimbley's lifeless body over her shoulder. He had tried to avoid looking at the corpse during the fight, as it terrified him, knowing that he was going to be next. The fact that the police officer had been killed by the same naked thighs that were slowly forcing the life out of him make his situation surreal, like a dark nightmare in a horror movie, but it was a horrid dream from which he knew he would never awaken.

At that point he gave up. He no longer wanted to live. The horribly beaten and battered man could no longer fight her, couldn't escape from her, and the one person who could have rescued him was now dead himself. Things could only get worse, as he knew the little girl didn't want to kill him just yet. She wanted him to suffer as much as possible, and there was no telling how long she intended to work on him with her legs before finally granting him the mercy of death. But death, not survival, was now what he silently prayed for, as it was the only thing that could bring him any relief.

“Please...just kill me,” he begged. “Please kill me.” The cruel child didn't respond. She just kept crushing him, harder...harder...harder.

“Oh, I will, I promise,” she said in what sounded like a low growl. “I'm gonna kill you deader than dirt. But not yet. I want to play with you a long time first. A REAL long time...and I got all night to do it,” she said. She then powered up her legs for another squeeze.

Al had one broken rib already, and the pain was so intense he passed out. Realizing this, Jaycee relaxed her hold, but did not release him. She was still there waiting for him when he awoke. Then she bore down on him again, causing him to once more pass out. She did this three more times over the next fifteen minutes, sometimes holding him loosely enough so that his pain was minimal. He never knew how long it would be before she unleashed her leg strength on him again, which served to increase his terror. Sometimes she would go two or three minutes, just holding him in that fake loving embrace, sometimes even kissing his cheek and licking his face.

Al no longer even screamed for help, as he truly wanted to die. He felt responsible for the policeman's death, as he had come to rescue him from this cruel, evil little girl and ended up being a victim himself. He looked over at the dead man again and started sobbing softly, just wishing it would all be over soon. The pain, the guilt and the fact that he couldn't breathe half the time was too much. He couldn't stand it anymore, and continued to pray to the God he was never sure existed for relief through death. That's all he wanted now. He wanted to die.

Suddenly there was a knock on the front door, followed by a soft feminine voice calling out: “Mr Al? Mr Al?”

It was Sue Thompson, an attractive young teacher who came to check on Mr Al nearly every day. She knew the situation with Jaycee, and had no idea Jaycee had even been released, much less that she was inside and in the process of slowly killing the old man. The fact that Al didn't answer the door right away did not initially concern her, as he was sometimes slow to get to the door, although he usually called out to her that he would be there in a minute. He was at that age where men had to make frequent bathroom visits, and she figured that's where he was.

Al tried to call out to her, but was only halfway through the word “HELP,” so that it came out “HE...” before Jaycee clamped a hand over his mouth. He knew Sue would stand no chance against Jaycee and had mostly wanted to warn her to go get help, and now silently prayed that she would. Certainly if she heard him trying to call out, she would do that instead of walking in and becoming another victim.

Sue Thompson heard something, like a man trying to say something, then stopping. The door had been broken in by Officer Wimbley and was now once again closed, as Jaycee had slammed it shut with her foot, but it was cracked a little, which along with what she thought was Mr Al trying to call out out made her think something was wrong. If it weren't for the door being slightly open, she would have gone in, but thinking that someone may have broken in, she decided to go for help.

She didn't have to go far, as Alex Goss, a fifty-five year old man, was taking his daily walk across the apartment complex. She quickly explained the situation, and he responded by saying, “I hope that little bitch...excuse me, that little...never mind, she's a bitch and I don't mind saying it. I hope it's not her. You stay here.” He sprinted toward Al's apartment.

Meanwhile, Jaycee continued destroying the old man. She had almost chewed off one of his ears the last time they fought, and she now had her teeth clamped down on his other earlobe and was chewing on it, one hand over his mouth while pulling his hair as hard as she could with the other one. She wanted him to feel as much pain as possible, but didn't want him to pass out again just yet, so she still had her legs draped around him, but not very firmly. She was just holding him in place and letting him know she could flex those powerful legs and squash him again any time she chose.

Suddenly the door burst open and Alex was inside, heading right for Jaycee and Al. “You little bitch. You fucking little bitch,” he yelled at her.

Jaycee released Al and stood as Al said, “Run, man, run. Don't try to fight her. Go get help, otherwise she'll kill us both.”

But it was too late. Jaycee ran to meet him, and when he saw her coming for him, he froze. He'd seen her beat up a boy about a year ago, and knew what she had done to Al. He had thought that once he entered the apartment, she'd be afraid to fight two men at once and run away, but instead she was coming after him. Not wanting to tangle with this girl, he and turned and ran, but it was too late. She caught him at the door and tackled him, taking him to the floor. Al tried to get to his feet so he could get to Alex and do what he could, but the pain was too great, and he collapsed. Then Sue Thompson ran in and saw Alex grappling with Jaycee on the floor. The little girl got to her feet long enough to punch Sue hard in the face, knocking her back against the edge of the open door. She fell, unconscious before she even hit the floor. She then turned her attention back to her new foe, or her new victim, as she was already considering him.

Alex was halfway up, but Jaycee lashed out with a bare foot, connecting with his face and toppling him over backward. She took two steps forward, fell on him and wrestled him, going for his midsection with her deadly legs. He didn't know he was supposed to avoid her lethal limbs at all costs, so Al called out to him: “Don't let her get those legs around you. She'll kill you with them. She'll fucking kill you.” But once again it was too late. Facing him, she wrapped him up like a gift to herself, which is kind of what she considered him. Could she possibly kill three men, one right after the other? She could see her photos in all the newspapers, hear her story on some of the true crime shows. Nancy Grace had been her favorite when she was on the air.

Al started crawling toward Alex, knowing there was nothing he could do when he got there. The brutal girl realized she couldn't kill him quickly enough with a frontal body scissor, even though he was slender enough, like Al, for her to do some serious damage to him with her legs. She'd have to kill him like she killed the cop, so she released him and slid around on her butt behind him, snaking her legs around his neck and, as she had done with Officer Wembley and Al, trapped him in a figure four, pulling back on her bare foot for maximum pressure on his neck. She crushed him as hard as she could for about a minute as Al crawled closer and closer to Jaycee and her helpless victim. She saw him, but wasn't worried. Even if he got there before she finished this one off, she'd have no trouble dealing with him long enough to stop him from interfering, then she could go back to killing the new guy.

To be continued...
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Old 17-Sep-18, 15:31
dirksneath dirksneath is offline
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Default Re: Jaycee's Revenge

The final segment will be posted as planned. I'm making some changes and additions.

Last edited by dirksneath; 17-Sep-18 at 19:46.
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Old 17-Sep-18, 16:40
zaphier zaphier is offline
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Default Re: Jaycee's Revenge

Don't tease us please? people do want to read the finale.
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Old 17-Sep-18, 18:54
WeaponZero WeaponZero is offline
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Default Re: Jaycee's Revenge

We do want to read it. It is great so far
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Old 17-Sep-18, 19:27
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Default Re: Jaycee's Revenge

Sorry I haven't been commenting, mate. I was away with my kids all weekend and only just got to read this now. Jaycee is on a rampage! The action is great, but I like the little flashes of insight into her, such as her love of the thought of being famous as the worlds only little girl serial killer and being interviewed on Nancy Grace. Thank you so much for continuing her story.
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Old 17-Sep-18, 21:11
jgm4343 jgm4343 is offline
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Default Re: Jaycee's Revenge

Originally Posted by dirksneath [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
The final segment will be posted as planned. I'm making some changes and additions.
Of course we want to read the next/final instalment
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Old 17-Sep-18, 23:38
dirksneath dirksneath is offline
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Default Re: Jaycee's Revenge

Thanks. Working on it. Doing a lot of additions and editing to the final part.
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Old 17-Sep-18, 23:43
fred1951 fred1951 is offline
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Default Re: Jaycee's Revenge

She is so unbelievable strong.She surely can lift a cop high over her head and then break his back on her knee,or break his back in a bear hug.
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mixed, older males, preteen girl, scissors, violence

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