Virgin Vengeance Feast
Although I was a young teenager when the movie The Last American Virgin came out, I still had the opportunity to watch this rater R cult classic. Making for a more interesting circumstance, I had a rough relationship during this period, making for some rather heightened anger issues to surface as I watched this movie. The lead actress was incredibly sexy and went on to a few other movies I liked, but none had the negative impact that this movie and her character had on me. The betrayal without apparent consequences fueled my irrational anger at the circumstances in this movie. Needless to say, there have been plenty of fantasies which involved serious retribution against the character, Karen.
As I began perusing the internet in later years, I came across DeviantArt and artists such as ForbiddenFeast (I don't know how to insert the small icon and link to their DA page, sorry), who did excellent work putting an image together for me to build a short story around. . With the potential of commissions, I decided that Karen should be the first commission request and I ould develop a short, short story surrounding it. Most of my short stories are around 50 pages, so this single setting event fits best in a Musings section which I decided I’ll post on my own DA journal page exclusively. All my stories are written as if I write them in journals, just so you understand the context. The scenario I chose for this takes place shortly after I, the betrayed character, drive away immediately after leaving Karen’s home.after the discovery of the betrayal. Although the movie was a drama, I think I’ll toss in a bit of fantasy elements as that was included in the commission. And my usual weirdness takes a few steps in as well, so be prepared for something that wouldn’t have occurred in the movie. I’ve even played through part of the movie, with me taking on the relevant male roles as needed, just to get into the spirit.
The Last American Virgin – The Fantasy Extended Ending
I’d arrived at my new mansion a few minutes ago after driving around for a few hours (well, really only a few minutes, but hours will have passed since I’d left the kitchen of that bitch). I was standing at the fireplace, still seething over the events that had occurred a few hours ago. The mansion understood. It was automatic, desiring to make me happy again, by whatever means necessary. And with Jake in control, that meant many options. I had been greeted at the door by her, but not her. Karen. The I wanted to wrap my fingers around the troat of. The one I wanted to beat to a pulp. After all I had done for her, even though I hadn’t really expected things to work out in my favor, at least it would have been nice if she hadn’t so blatantly betrayed and used me.
But this wasn’t the girl I had left in the kitchen, kissing her girlfriend. As pleasurable as it was to watch, I had to be angry at the betrayal that had been part of the story. This was a duplicate, a clone, prepared by the mansion as part of the attempt calm me, satisfy me. She met me at the door, her head down, the look on her face one of submission, one of abject pleading for forgiveness, her demeanor prepared for any reaction I had. As I entered, I closed the door behind me an walked towards her. She backed up against the wall and I pressed into her, the heat of my anger making her shudder slightly. She whispered an apology and indicated that dinner would be ready in half an hour. She looked up at my face, fear spreading across her own face at the fury on mine. She did not try to leave or defend herself if I struck out at her. And so much I wanted to find a release for my anger.
Instead of striking out, I turned and walked, fist clinched, into the living room and stood in front of the burning fireplace. There I stood for minutes on end, or so it seemed. Shortly, I hear the padding of bare feet behind me and a whispered voice of Karen letting me know that dinner was ready. I turned towards her and approached, staring into her eyes, still with an outraged look on my face. She looked down but did not try to retreat. I reached up to her and held her face, her soft cheek warm to my touch. She apologized again and again, a tear rolling down her face. She swears that unlike her “sister”, she would never have betrayed me. That I am her world, to do with as I pleased. I kissed her lightly on the lips, my anger still palpable but not directed at her specifically. After a few seconds of kissing, I lead her to the dining room.
The dining table is laid out in banquet style, but only two places are set. My own place is at the head of the table and a second place is set next to me on one side around the corner of the table. To the two o’clock placement from my plate lies Karen’s original head, her now open white eyes staring in my direction but seeing the oblivion that exists inside the remains of her brain. The rest of her naked body laid out upon the table, carved in preparation for the feast I am about to gorge myself on. The thick sections clearly baked to perfection like succulent country ham, her dismembered body covered in the sweet juices she was basted in.
Karen’s replacement steps to one side and begins moving a container on wheels to the placement setting across from her own. The container’s boundaries are not visible and yet are there keeping its occupant inside with no difficulty. The boundary is not a physical material such as glass but an almost invisible electrostatic barrier. And though on Earth “paranormal” entities such as ghosts or demons are not real, my wonderful Jake provides the needed extra ambiance to make the scenario appear all the more real by placing a ghost-like image of the original Karen inside the container. The image looks at me with a mix of sadness, remorse, and perhaps even outrage tucked deep away. If there is truly regret within that energy entity that remains of her original self, then it only exists because of her current condition. Were she still alive, still out among the world that help to make her the way she was, she would not feel one iota of regret and, perhaps, even feeling willing to repeat such an act upon another fool to fall for her if the opportunity presented itself.
I stand behind my seat, staring at the apparition, while my new loving Karen walks around me and sits upon her own seat at the table. The apparition does not move or react, as if frozen in the moment, her only thoughts appearing upon her face. I then move to sit down in my own seat and momentarily look to the physical head of the original Karen. Those still very inviting lips, glistening with the cooking juices, are in a neutral line, though I detect a slight downturn at the corners. I reach up with my closest hand and rub my thumb gently across those lips. These are the lips I kissed in hopes of love and commitment. The lips of one I gave my heart to in aid when she needed it. The lips who smiled at me in betrayal only a few hours ago. Not the lips that I kissed shortly before entering the dining room. Not the lips I would kiss and caress later this evening and forever more.
My new Karen reaches out and takes the carving knife and carving fork in hand and slices the luscious left breast, with the pert puffy nipple, and places the meat on my plate. She then serves me some of the potatoes and other vegetables from among the other food on the table. After serving me, including pouring a glass of sweet tea for me (I never could get the hang of enjoying alcohol in any form, even wine or champagne), she carves meat from the back of one leg and places it on her own plate along with some vegetables for herself.
We begin eating our meal, no words spoken between us. I eat both breasts the cunt steak, and both cheeks. The new Karen devours the rest except for hands and feet. We also finish off the rest of the potatoes and vegetables. The meat is juicy and I savor each bite, looking up at the apparition seeing the look on her face as we devour her physical body. Her lack of tears only seems to be due to a lack of physical nature to her. I hold up one breast, the left one with the delicious puffy nipple and suck at that nipple, drawing forth the meat juices within, licking the nipple which actually grows hard between my teeth. I hear the new Karen moan beside me as she watches me suck at the nipple, clearly wishing it were her own nipple being sucked on. Biting off the entire nipple, I rolled the hard nub inside my mouth, then chewed it into tiny bits, followed by the reast of the breast meat.
The cunt steak was also juicy, a combination of cum and meat juices flowing from it. The lips were still soft and I licked at the space between them, the new Karen actually arching her back imagining my licking at her own pussy lips. All the while the apparition watched, her hands opening and closing into fists, a scowl building on her face as if I alone had committed a wrong, her own responsibility in these affairs completely that of an innocent party. But she could not voice her opinion and it only infuriated her all the more. She could not even loo away or close her eyes. She had to endure what she was forced to witness, just as she deserved.
The new Karen and I finished our meal and, standing from the table, together pushed the container with the apparition of the original Karen into the den where other containers, like large trophy cases, were situated throughout, each containing female characters much like Karen who had betrayed relationships, especially as teenagers in various stories. These unmoving apparitions held angry facial expressions, aware of their surroundings and what was happening around them but anable to interact, to move from their current position or encapsulation. We place her off to one side, facing the center of the room and the new Karen, the only Karen that matters to any degree to me now, follows me to the center of the room, in full view of the trapped apparitions.
Karen looks up at me longingly, and I reach up holding each side of her face with both hands and pull her close for a log, passionate kiss. She responds both with a kiss in return as well as putting both arms around me and holding tight. Stepping forward, I rub my crotch against her naked crotch flesh and she presses in farther, rubbing against me. And there, among the forest of betrayers, the remains of the originals who have been the inspiration for so many who felt betrayal of others was just a part of growing up, I made love to another replacement, a replacement who was now mine in mind and body, while their apparition of what would have been a soul look on. So many others have I touched here in front of their original selves, tasting of Karen, having her suck my cock and spread her inviting legs to provide deep access to every orifice, becoming forever mine in ways the original never would have. And, as we partook of every inch of each other, the other replacements joined us in the center of the room where an orgy to welcome the newest replacement had become and would last for days to come.