TYWD's 3rd Second Level Assignment
ThisYouWillDo
Assignment 3
Prelude and Conclusion to The Dinner Party by H Dean
I’ve been developing this form of artwork for quite some time now. It started with straightforward taxidermy. I worked in an antique shop in a Cotswold village in England and occasionally a sweet old lady would ask if we could have her little Scottie dog stuffed so that he could stay with her even though he had gone to Doggie Heaven. Although the shop could not do this, we would provide her with details of a local taxidermist who took on pet commissions. Pet commissions were not very popular in the profession because it was difficult to reproduce the lifelike qualities the poor creature would have had in life, no matter how accurate the physical mount would be, and customers were often not entirely satisfied.
I became interested in the art and started to get involved as a hobby, taking advice and occasional instruction from the taxidermist we dealt with, Edward Marks. After a while we became friendly and I would spend free time at his studio helping him model items. As time went by, he began to rely upon me, and eventually he even made me a partner in his small business. Consequently I became friendly with the whole family: his wife, Mavis, and his two lovely young daughters, Caroline and Marianne. Mavis was a quiet young woman. Very interested in nature and natural ways of living. In another decade, you would think of her as a hippie. The daughters were very lively, outgoing and happy girls, pretty as well as intelligent and capable. I was smitten by both of them. They took a real interest in my work as I became more adept at the art, and they would often come in to talk to me while I skinned the creatures I was working on, or preserved their hides or skins. They would help me make the detailed measurements necessary, mix and model the plaster we needed, or select the glass eyes we were to use. In fact I was passing on the knowledge I had picked up from their father back to the girls. Gradually, Caroline and Marianne grew into beautiful young ladies and, when they left school, they both joined me in the business.
As time passed, my own reputation as a taxidermist grew and I began to become quite successful and, if not rich, then very comfortable financially. Edward began to take less interest in the business, allowing me to take over. He had discovered new ways of presenting his art. Living displays. It involved paralysing the subjects in specific poses. A fox, for example, could be fixed in a position that indicated he had scented a pack of hounds and was on the point of breaking into a run to escape. A duck could be placed at the head of a line of ducklings. A cat could sit motionless in a window, watching the world go by with complete disinterest.
As the creatures were alive, there was no need for taxidermy, and tanning and skinning skills were not necessary. They had a life-like appearance because they were alive. They were kept in place because they had been paralysed – either by drugs, or by severing nerves and tendons. They were kept alive by a form of intravenous feeding, and other bodily functions were dealt with by skilful body modifications. Unfortunately, the creatures did not survive very long: days, weeks, sometimes months, depending on the physical strength of the subjects and the success of the life support modifications. But as Edward developed his skills and knowledge, his success and survival rates began to improve. And then he invited me to get involved too.
The practice was, of course illegal, and the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals would have had a field day if they had discovered what was going on. So we made sure they didn’t find out. We selected our clients by a careful vetting process. We would identify people we thought would have a real interest and make contact with them on some entirely different pretext. After a long period of cultivation, the idea would gradually and carefully be introduced to them. Right up to the moment of commitment by the prospective client, we would leave ourselves a way out. Once the client committed himself, he was just as keen to avoid detection as we were.
Besides, we didn’t consider the practice to be unnecessarily cruel. We ensured that there was no pain by putting pain inhibiting drugs into the intravenous solutions the creatures were fed with.
I am a reclusive type of person. I find it hard to make friends, and when I do so, it is usually due to some other factor coming into play. The way my interest in taxidermy had led to my friendship with Edward is a case in point. Similarly, I find it hard to let an established relationship end, to let go and move on. Thus, I took it very badly when first Caroline, and then Marianne, found boyfriends and began to make plans for a different future. I felt I was being let down by them as they left to make new lives with their partners. In fact, I had to do something about it. Because of the anger growing inside me, festering and turning to hate for the girls and their boyfriends, my work was affected. Animals were being put in disturbing poses – in the act of a kill, for example. And the prey was kept alive, and in pain and terror too. These productions were unsaleable, of course, and led to arguments between Edward and myself. I found it more and more difficult to carry on working there.
So I made plans to leave. I decided to emigrate to Canada and to set up in business there. I was wealthy enough by now to demonstrate to the Canadian authorities that I could afford to maintain myself for a very long period of time, and I was also able to convince them that the new business I intended to set up would provide new jobs for the unemployed. So I moved to Ontario, close to Toronto and to Detroit in the US, where I hoped there would be enough wealthy people with an interest in my art to enable me to make a living. The plan was successful – at least I was able to live moderately well and I managed to stay under the radars of the Humane Society in the US and the Canadian Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.
I became well known within a select circle of people who appreciated my work and who gave me commissions to mount their pets, and afterwards, to create new displays as the first ones died. This was often sad, but, with skill and application I was usually able to provide acceptable replacements. My clients also helped protect me from the scrutiny of the authorities. I changed my identity completely and altered my appearance. I went on a diet and had a small face lift and the shape of my nose changed. I dyed my hair and wore it a bit longer. And I bought some tinted contact lenses to change my eye colour. I even wore elevator shoes to change my height. It wasn’t long before I felt able to put the next part of my plan into action.
This involved a trip back to England where I intended to kidnap Marianne and Caroline and to bring them back with me. I also chartered a private jet for the trip back and had previously obtained permission to being back the bodies of two deceased relatives for burial in Canada. I managed to obtain forged birth certificates and passports showing that Caroline and Marianne were in fact Canadians and wanted to be buried there. I rented a remote holiday cottage in England and hired a transit van for the week. I also contacted some undertakers who were willing to transport the coffins to the airport without asking too many questions.
The two kidnappings went smoothly. I parked the van on the driveway leading up to the house and hid in the bushes, waiting for them to come back. First Caroline arrived. I quickly overpowered her and bundled her into the van where I bound her and gagged her. Marianne was just as easily captured and I was able to make my way back to my cottage within half an hour. I was completely unnoticed and this stage has been completed with total success.
Once inside the cottage, I dragged the girls into the main room where I had made preparations for transporting them into Canada. When they saw the coffins, they almost passed out with fear. I gave them no reason to doubt they would die. I picked them up one by one and placed them in their coffins. Marianne was first and she resisted at first. I hit her as hard as I could and she stopped struggling straight away. Caroline saw this and realised that there was no point in putting up any kind of fight. Once they were lying in the boxes, each one crying wretchedly, I injected them with a drug designed to give the appearance of death. They went through a minute or two of painful spasms and choking as their bodily functions gradually shut down and went into hibernation. Then they lay still and their body temperatures began to fall rapidly. I closed the lids and waited for the hearse to arrive.
At the airport, the charter jet waited by the hangar as the coffins went through the customs area. I had obtained the necessary forged death certificates and authority to take the bodies out of the country, and these were scrutinised by the Customs Officer before he nodded the coffins through. They were then loaded onto the plane. I, too, boarded it and permission to take off was asked for and given.
The flight to Canada was uneventful. We landed in Toronto at 4:30 in the afternoon. I calculated that the Canadian Customs would be looking forward to going home at that time, and it might be easier to get the coffins through. I was right, but nonetheless, my papers were examined quite carefully, making me wonder if I was going to be discovered. The coffins were opened, discretely, to make sure there was no contraband inside, and the official who did so made some comment about it being sad that two such beautiful girls should die so young. He asked how it had happened. I showed him the death certificate which stated that they had a congenital illness which had stricken them both at the same time. An unhappy co-incidence he had observed.
After that, it was plain sailing to get them back to my Ontario home, and as soon as I arrived, I revived the girls and began my next two works of art. Marianne was to be raped by two satyrs and Caroline was to be caught on a spider’s web. I worked carefully, and my skills by now were quite considerable, although this was the first time I had worked on humans. I was confident that I could make the girls live for a very long time. And I saw no reason why I should give them anything to relieve their suffering. Gradually I created each mount and was very pleased with the results of my work. I called Francis, who had been my first customer after I arrived in Canada, and I invited him to come over and have a look. He was overwhelmed by what he saw and said he wanted them for himself. He almost came in his pants as he examined the girls and saw their extreme predicaments. They whimpered as he caressed them. I agreed he could have them, but I set a condition. He was to help me show my new creations to other likely buyers by organising a meeting at his house, and he was only to invite people who I could identify as reliable and safe. I gave him the names of a couple of people I thought he should start by inviting. Francis agreed and began making enquiries about likely customers. Most of the interested people seemed to come from the Far East, but it was a fairly diverse group who were invited eventually. They all accepted.
Meanwhile, I arranged for the girls to be taken to Francis’s house and for the displays to be set up in the study, ready for the meeting.
-o0O0o-
Francis directed his guests into his study, introducing them to his artwork. All were properly impressed and filled with questions as to how this magnificence was achieved.
"Are they all real?" a voice asked.
"Of course. I've a friend who…he is the...um...director of a facility that creates these masterpieces,” he told them. “I have another piece in the works, as a matter of fact."
His guests milled around first one piece and then another, touching the objects and mumbling to their comrades.
A tall woman of an older generation stood over what appeared to be a marble statue depicting a nymph pleasuring two satyrs. Smiling she bent down and peered into the nymphs closed eyes and whispered something. The eyes opened, startling the woman.
"So hideous," she whispered. "Francis, I'm curious, how do you...well, how does she eat or..."
Francis smiled as he strode towards the older woman. "As you can see, one satyr has his cock in her mouth and the other in her ass. I won't go into all the plumbing, but there is a small machine that pumps food into her stomach and another that cleans her out."
"I must have one!" she exclaimed.
"Perhaps that can be arranged, Beatrice," Francis said, a broad grin of satisfaction on his face.
"How did you manage this one?" asked a tall, dark haired man.
"Ah, this one...my most recent piece," Francis said, striding over to the man. "I had to have this adjusted somewhat. The spider webbing originally fed into her fingers, but that proved to be a bit problematic. They feed into through the back of her hand now. I'm rather partial to the change: It allows her fingers to move now."
“It’s quite exquisite,” the man replied.
“Thank you. I wanted her to appear much like a painting,” Francis said. “My initial thought was of Fay Ray in the clutches of King Kong. Then I settled on an image from an old pulp fiction fantasy novel I read as a young man. I can’t recall the name of the book but the image of a nearly naked girl trapped in a huge spider web was rather…well, it stayed with me.”
As if on command the girl's fingers wiggled, garnering a smile from her captor. Reaching out, the man stroked the girl's leg, prompting her from her state of slumber. Her steel gray eyes blinked open, taking in the rare sight of strangers.
"Please, help me," whispered the girl, suddenly hopeful for freedom.
A chuckle of sadistic satisfaction rose from the gallery of people.
"Marvelous!" Beatrice issued. "Such hideous beauty. Such sadistic pleasures you must find in this beauty."
"More than I can express," Francis related. "Many is the night that I have taken my seat across from her, enjoying her exquisite suffering while my dutiful Desk brought me to full satisfaction."
"Desk? Who or what is Desk?" asked the woman.
Francis turned his gaze to the small desk at the far end of the room. It was made of dark oak and appeared well crafted and sturdy. From the center top of the desk, just beneath the desk’s top piece could be seen the lower portions of a woman. Her bottom jutted out slightly and her feet spread wide and disappeared into the desk's thick legs.
"She has relative freedom until lock into her place," Francis told the small crowd. "When not in use for my sexual pleasures or cleaning, she is there. When unattended she has a pump attached to her bottom to clean out her wastes."
"I assume that her upper half is useful when she is ensconced by the desk?" chuckled one of the guests.
"Please, feel free to look," Francis told the man.
One by one Francis' guests made their path to the other side of the desk to admire its most impressive attributes.
"It appears you have modified the girl quite severely," the older woman said.
"Ah, yes. She is, in fact, a Christ-like figure," Francis retorted, smiling. "Her hands and feet have rather large holes through them, titanium tubing filling the holes so they remain open and useful. Her breasts have been greatly enlarged and are, in fact, still growing thanks to an implant her creator calls ‘silly string’. Her lips have been shaped and enlarged, and her teeth have been replaced with a synthetic material."
"You said she has duties other than being a desk," Beatrice said. "Which means she can be removed from it. It also means that you trust her to be free in the house. That's a bit risky, if you ask me."
"Her mind is not what it once was. In fact, she has little recollection of the girl she was before she became what she is now," Francis told her. "Her only want in life is to be a pleasure toy. She has actually stated that she envies the other pieces I have here - wishes she were one of them."
"Interesting", the woman said.
"Well, I think it's time for the party to get started," Francis exclaimed. "So, if you don't mind, I will free Desk from her bondage and have her get to serving. Please, follow me to the dining room."
Over dinner, Francis' guests spoke in grand words about his living furnishings. All were in awe and most were in a quest to discover how they might acquire their own pieces. Amidst the excitement and revelry, none noticed the one man who sat quietly observing the actions of all in attendance. It was only after dinner had completed that he was introduced.
"It seems that you are all in agreement," Francis announced. "You all want what I have. Well, I have news for you. The man responsible for these creations is here.”
Their attention was immediate, as was the sudden silence filling the room. Anticipatory, each guest awaited the words that were to follow.
“He has been made fully aware of the status of each individual here,” Francis continued. “He knows your base interests and the truth about your, or our, illegal activities. However, as careful a man as he is, he wished to observe each of you before allowing me to compromise his identity.”
Francis paused for a moment, enjoying the sudden tension. He cast his eyes from one guest to another, enjoying their wide-eyed attention. Finally, Beatrice rose from her seat, her eyes burning into Francis.
“Damn it, man! You’re going to give us all heart attacks, you sadistic bastard!” she exclaimed, a smile playing across her lips.
Francis returned the smile, raising his arm in an open handed gesture. “Friends, I want you to meet Jerry O’Connell.”
All eyes turned towards the man at the far end of the table and watched the man ease himself from his seat. He raised his fist to his mouth and coughed before smiling at the guests.
“It’s been awhile since I have been away from my playground for a night like this,” he began. “I admit to having a very enjoyable time. Your company and adoration of my works has been quite enjoyable. Were I a more easily influenced man my head would be swelled beyond the ridiculous. Francis?”
“Thank you, Jerry,” Francis responded as Jerry returned to his seat. “Now, let’s retire to my study. I am sure you have many questions, hopes and fantasies you wish to discuss with my esteemed friend.”
-o0O0o-
All through the meal, I had been watching one particular guest. He was one of the people I had suggested Francis invite. He had not known what to expect when he came, and the shock on his face as he saw his two daughters displayed in this way was obvious. I had warned Francis to expect it and we were prepared for anything that might happen. Edward was not stupid, and realised that he was outnumbered and could do nothing. In the study, Edward was seized by the arms and bound and gagged. Both girls were awake now and had to watch as their father was stripped naked in front of them. Marianne made gurgling noises of protest and Caroline screamed so much she had to be gagged.
Edward looked round, from one person to the next. He was too frightened to be embarrassed. I enjoyed this degradation as much as the pain I was going to put him through next. I made him go up and examine both of his daughters, and I delighted in telling him that they were not getting any pain relief: they were both in agony 24 hours a day for as long as they held on to life. His eyes were filled with tears for them. Then I told him that they would at least survive for longer than he would, and that they would have to watch him die where they were. Edward began to struggle … he realised this was his last chance to get away. But his food had been drugged, and he was weak and lethargic now. He was almost completely unable to resist.
I then produced a couple of meat hooks and dug them deep into his flesh beneath his shoulders. I also fixed his feet to a spreader. A rope was hanging from a pulley on the ceiling, and I ran this through the hooks and tied them off. Beatrice was busy photographing the events with a video camera and gurgling with delight as she tested the meat hooks to make sure they were securely embedded. (I had asked her to make the video so that I could send a copy to Mavis.) Meanwhile Francis brought in a sharpened stake fixed to a heavy metal base. The stake was about two inches thick and sharpened at the top. There was no doubt what was going to happen next. Edward was almost passing out with pain and fear as he looked at the stake: he even urinated on the floor where he stood as his daughters watched. I jerked the loose end of the rope. It tightened and yanked the meat hooks upwards. Edward groaned. Then I began to pull on it and slowly Edward was lifted by the hooks and his feet left the floor. I lifted him higher and higher until Francis was able to manoeuvre the stake beneath him. I left Edward suspended there for some time so that his weight on the hooks would become more intense. The girls, unable to look away, watched in horror, almost forgetting their own agonies. Eventually, I decided to let Edward down. As I slowly lowered him, Francis pushed and pulled on the leg-spreader so that the stake would enter Edward’s anus. He screamed with shock and agony. I made a note to check whether Beatrice’s camera was recording sound as well.
Slowly, under my control, Edward’s weight bore down onto the stake and penetrated deeper into his body. I had tried to make sure he was positioned properly so that no vital organs would be pierced that would bring about immediate death, and my care was rewarded. The stake penetrated his back passage, his bowel and his stomach, and ran up through the cavity in his chest missing his hear and lungs. It then ran up his throat and emerged through his mouth as if he has been spitted for a roast. At this stage, I let the rope go. He was completely impaled now and so we were able to relax and enjoy his final death throes, which would last several hours with any luck.
Desk brought some drinks round as we watched, and then was locked into place for use. I have to admit, the excitement of this evening meant that she was well used that night. I was also commissioned to produce several more similar works, and was even promised help in obtaining more girls to work with. All in all, a very satisfying evening.
