Boiler Babe

Fiona was wearing a tight, black leather skirt. As usual, she had chosen to emphasize her excruciatingly tiny waist and her concave belly; her cropped black t-shirt was several sizes too small for her. Her silver navel ornament drew even more attention to her midriff. Her arms were very thoroughly bound behind her back: her elbows were tied together quite tightly, as were her wrists. The frightened young singer was almost in tears. "I can't believe you're doing this," she protested. "Please, this is insane. Just let us go, OK?"

The MC chuckled. "We'll let you go, Fiona...unless we draw your number, of course! But don't give up hope yet...after all, we might end up eating stunning redhead and perpetual angry chick Tori Amos! Tori?"

"It doesn't surprise me at all that you're doing this," Tori said icily. She wore a pink tube top which barely concealed her firm breasts; below, a tight, black skirt clung greedily to her full, round hips. Her fiery red hair danced and swirled around her pale, bare shoulders. Steel handcuffs kept her arms behind her back. "Most men just see women as meat anyway. It's all so predictable."

"Well, Tori, hopefully we'll get to prove you right!" The MC grinned. "I must say, there's nothing sweeter than a cunt steak that's been carved out of the tortured body of a radical feminist." Before Tori could respond to this remark, the MC turned to the third contestant. "And this slender, energetic blonde beauty is none other than ska-pop queen Gwen Stefani, of No Doubt! Hi, Gwen!"

"Get bent," Gwen shouted. Skinny almost to the point of emaciation, Gwen wore even less clothing than the other two girls. Apart from a white sports bra and g-string, she was quite naked. As slender as she was, she somehow managed to have impressively large, nicely rounded breasts. Handcuffs prevented her from giving the MC the obscene gesture she so obviously wanted to give him. "They aren't gonna do anything to us, Fiona. These guys are just full of shit."

"You'll be singing a different tune if we pull your number, Gwen! OK, girls. I want you to step up to the edge of the stage. Let everyone get a good look at you." Reluctantly, the three singers complied. Gwen and Tori stood there impassively as dozens of eyes assessed and analyzed their bodies. Fiona, who was the youngest of the three, had more trouble maintaining her composure. She snuffled softly, then began to sob. Tears flowed out of her big, innocent blue eyes.

"Oh, God," Fiona whimpered. "This is unbearable. They're looking at us as though we were steaks."

"We are," Tori pointed out. "Hang in there, girl. It'll be over soon, one way or the other."

"Well, I think we're ready," the MC decided. In the center of the stage was a small table; on the table was a heavy, steel box. "I have here three chits. Each contains the name of one of our lovely contestants. I'm now placing them into the box." There was a sharp CLINK as the first chit hit the bottom of the steel box. Fiona swallowed hard. Tori closed her eyes as the MC dropped the second chit. And as the third chit fell, Gwen--strong, proud, defiant Gwen!--whimpered softly. Fearing unspeakable punishment if they violated the MC's instructions, the three girls continued to face the audience. Apart from the sounds they heard and the MC's descriptions of his actions, they had no way of knowing what he was up to behind their backs. "I'm mixing up the chits as thoroughly as I can," the MC explained. "After all, we want this to be a fair lottery!" The terrified girls heard the chits rattle around in the box as the MC shook it. Each of the three offered silent prayers that her young life might be spared. They heard the MC open the box. There was a breathless, infinite silence as he selected a chit. "And the loser is...Fiona Apple! Yes, ladies and gentlemen, beautiful young Fiona is tonight's victim!"

"No," Fiona whimpered, the tears trickling down her cheeks. "Oh, please, no..."

"We'll be snuffing Fiona in our Boiler Babe 2000," the MC announced proudly. "Right this way, please, Fiona." He led the timid, frightened singer towards the device, which was located on the left side of the stage. It was essentially a simple glass cylinder mounted on top of a heating unit. With a good deal of prodding from the MC, Fiona mounted a small step ladder which sat next to the Babe. She teetered uneasily at the top of the ladder, balanced precariously on her black spike heels.

"That's it, Fiona. Just step right in."

"Please, don't make me do this...oh, please, you can't..."

"Don't make me hurt you, Fiona." The MC's voice was suddenly very hard. Fiona had no doubt that the threat was genuine.

Quivering, Fiona stepped into the glass cylinder. She sank to her knees, facing the audience. The MC slipped the Boiler Babe's cover over her head; the Babe's rubber gasket was deliciously tight against her throat. She was quite thoroughly sealed into the device.

The MC flipped a switch on the mechanism, and the cylinder began to fill with water. Soon Fiona was immersed up to her neck. He flipped another switch, and the water gradually began to heat.

Fiona started to sweat inside the cylinder. "No, please...it's getting hotter, I can feel it...oh, please, no, you can't do this to me..."

"Jesus," Tori whispered.

"Better her than me," Gwen said softly. "The poor kid...that's gonna hurt like hell. I never realized they'd actually DO it."

The glass cylinder began to fill with bubbles. The water was very warm. Fiona began to whimper softly. She was already extremely uncomfortable, and she knew that it was only going to get worse.

Discomfort shaded slowly into pain. Fiona's soft, sweet, innocent young face turned an angry pink. She squirmed helplessly within the cylinder. And then something wonderful happened. As the soft clouds of bubbles rose gently through the water, the hem of Fiona's t-shirt began to float upwards. Suddenly her breasts were exposed. They were firm and round, but not quite ripe. On her anorexic body, however, they looked huge. A gasp of approval rose from the audience. Fiona's nipples were large and pink and eminently suckable; they looked delicious.

The pleading look on Fiona's face grew steadily more serious, more imploring. Brows arched, she begged for mercy with her big, soft blue eyes. Her sweet red lips trembled as she voiced her weak, helpless pleas. With every passing moment she looked less like a confident young woman and more like a scared little girl.

She saw the MC eyeing her proud, young breasts. "Please," she whimpered. "I'll do anything. You have to get me out of here; I can't take it..."

"All right, Fiona," the MC agreed, stepping onto the ladder. He unzipped his fly, presented her with his erect cock. "Show me what you can do."

Reluctantly, Fiona took the throbbing member into her mouth. The audience took vicarious delight from the MC's pleasure. Once she got over her initial hesitation, Fiona brought all of her considerable fellatio skill to bear on the problem of pleasing this man. She gave him plenty of tongue and good, steady suction. Her saliva glands worked overtime, thoroughly lubricating the whole operation. Best of all, she gazed up at him with tortured, terrified eyes. He grunted his satisfaction and thrust deep into her mouth. She gagged softly and kept right on sucking, until at last he spewed his immense load down her open, yielding throat.

The crowd cheered as he withdrew and stepped down. Sticky white come ran over Fiona's lower lip and down her chin. "Please," she begged. "It's so hot. It hurts so much. I gave you a good blow job. I could tell you liked it. Please, just make it stop..."

"Oh, it'll stop, Fiona," he chuckled. "Don't worry. You won't last much longer, I'm sure. Just hang in there."

"She's really suffering," Tori observed sadly.

"I never imagined they'd be so fucking cruel," Gwen whispered. "Boiled alive...Jesus, the poor thing."

"I hope you're almost done, Fiona, because we're pretty hungry here!" the MC chortled. Fiona could only moan weakly. Her strength was rapidly leaving her. Though she was young and vigorous, the water was now almost lethally hot. She closed her eyes and silently begged forgiveness from every lobster she had ever eaten. It was a horrid, unspeakable fate, and she couldn't believe she had ever wished it upon another living thing.

"Folks, I think she's about done. What do you say we finish her off?" A roar went up from the crowd. The MC touched a switch on the cover of the Boiler Babe. Without warning, heavy steel blades pressed inwards against Fiona's neck, slicing, cutting, decapitating her. Within moments her head was severed, and the MC held it proudly aloft, turning it towards the cylinder so the dying girl could watch herself expire. Her headless body was now completely enclosed within the cylinder. The boiling water began to turn a deep, rich red as blood spouted out of her neck and into the cylinder. Her body twitched and convulsed as it boiled and died. Fiona looked on in horror and in agony, and did not die nearly as quickly as she would have liked.