5 Water gun – hanging booth (Jun 8 ’11)

The water gun – hanging booth is always a popular attraction at the carnival. There is a nearby holding pen with many she-males in various attire, allowing a contestant to pick out the lady-boy of his choice. When a suitable preference has been selected, the she-male is taken to the gallows and noosed up while the competitor takes his place along with the others.

Five contestants stand behind a counter aiming their water-powered squirt guns at a target approximately ten feet away. But instead of spurting into the mouth of a traditional clown face, contestants find themselves shooting at the opened mouths of small, hollowed-out plastic statues of nude she-males. Behind these small statues stand the real thing – the five selected and noosed lady-boys who are now standing together in a row on an elevated gallows.

The game is relatively simple. As the hollowed out statues fill with water, the nooses around the necks of the she-males begin to tighten. They are slowly lifted upward onto the balls of their feet and then onto their toes before eventually becoming airborne.

There are electronic floats inside the statues that measure the progress of the rising water, sending a signal to the winches on the beam above that control the nooses of each she-male. As the statue is filled, the corresponding lady-boy standing behind it is pulled upward. Thus, the contestant gets to see the progress made as he attempts to be the first to fill his statue. As an added amusement, the statues all have penises and tits so that as the water level rises the cocks swell and the breasts inflate.

To make the game even more agonizing the nooses have all been calibrated with the floats inside the statues. Thus, it is possible to actually get your she-male a couple of inches off the ground and still lose the contest. Often this results in the frantic dancing of more than one lady-boy before a winner is finally decided.

Once the float inside a particular statue reaches a critical level, the noose for that winning contestant lifts its she-male a couple of feet off the deck of the gallows. The remaining lady-boys are quickly lowered, often gasping and choking with relief. But they are forced to stand and watch while the winner kicks her life away.

The winning contestant gets to claim his she-male and is free to do anything with her that he wants, even if it means taking her over to the barbecue pit. The rest are taken back to the pen until the next contest, usually scheduled for the top and bottom of each hour. It is not unusual for certain lady-boys to find favor with the patrons, finding themselves noosed over and over again until one lucky contestant successfully hangs them.

As the top of the hour approaches, the gallows is once again full of she-males. One is a naked blonde in black, knee-high boots who has already played the game three times before, having been painfully elevated twice before her boots safely touched the planking of the gallows. Another is a blonde in fishnet stockings who has played twice, once having nearly become airborne before being lowered back down. The third is a Japanese redhead in a schoolgirl outfit facing her second trip. The fourth is a blonde in transparent pantyhose who’s been noosed five times in a row, fearful this trip might very well be her last. Taking up the last spot is a black-haired goddess with butterfly tattoos who’s taking her third chance in the noose.

All five of them stand noosed with their arms tied securely behind their backs. All five have been up here before. They quiver with fright, knowing that one of them is destined to be kicking for her last breath as the noose chokes off her airway. Five cocks stand erect, one tenting the skirt of a schoolgirl outfit while another fights to break free of a set of confining nylons.

“Who’s ready to hang a she-male?” the barker proclaims excitedly. The gathered crowd cheers loudly, their bloodlust inflamed.

“Contestants ready?” he calls out again with a smile. Five plastic weapons with hoses attached are dutifully raised.

“Aim…” Five plastic weapons zero in on their targets.

Behind him he hears the whimpers of the frightened she-males, but he remains unmoved. He is also looking forward to yet another she-male hanging. It is why he volunteers every year to man the water gun – hanging booth.

“FIRE!”

Five water guns begin squirting five streams of fluid at five plastic statues. The carnival barker turns to watch which one of the lady-boys will soon start to dance. His eyes flash cruelly.

The whimpers increase with intensity as the statues start to accumulate the squirting fluid. Interestingly all five contestants have actually played the game before. After all, the water gun – hanging booth is a rather popular attraction.

Five nooses begin to take up the slack, pulling the five frightened she-males up onto the balls of their feet. They gasp and whimper as the crowd roars its murderous approval. Soon one of the five will be kicking up her dance of death.

Two front runners begin to emerge, the she-male with the fishnet stockings whose cock is stiff and the lady-boy wearing the sheer nylons whose cock is straining to break free. Both of them start to gasp as their nooses tighten.  The Japanese she-male starts to make a move as the one in boots languishes. It appears that one will probably remain safe for another round.

As five statues start to fill, the two front runners find themselves shuffling around on their toes, virtually neck and neck as they both gasp and gurgle for breath. The Japanese girl whimpers as the black-haired goddess starts to cough and gasp. The lady-boy in the boots is up on her toes, her face a grimace of pain. She is going to be spared but she cannot see the others very well and she still fears she will hang.

The crowd roars as the contestants struggle to focus their streams of water into the opened mouths of the statues. Cries can be heard rooting for certain she-males to be hung, and the raucous sound carries to other parts of the carnival. Up on the gallows five she-males shuffle around, their cocks humiliatingly hard, the potential moment of their death fast approaching.

The lady-boy in the fishnet stockings loses her footing first and starts to gasp and kick. The one in the sheer nylons joins her mere moments later. It terrifies the other three, knowing the crowd has no mercy. They struggle to take air through windpipes that are becoming more and more constricted.

The Japanese she-male suddenly loses her footing with the gallows and for the moment three lady-boys kick wildly. Then the one in the fishnet stockings and the one in the sheer pantyhose both jerk upward simultaneously. The crowd goes wild as the carnival barker cries out, “WE HAVE TWO WINNERS!” The other three are instantly lowered, grateful they are still alive… even if only to eventually play another round.

The two she-males kick up a storm. For a moment their movements match as though in a synchronous ballet. Then the one in the fishnet stockings kicks wildly, her cock spurting a stream of cream onto the floor of the gallows. As if on cue the other one stains her sheer pantyhose as her cock spurts and spurts. This eggs the crowd on even more with wild whoops and lusty cheers.

The wild gyrations of the two she-males frighten their nearby comrades, causing the other three to whimper with fright as if they might be hung anyway just for spite. The two lady-boys put on quite a show as though determined to fight for that very last breath of air, a breath neither one will ever get to take. Two sets of legs jerk upward as though instinctively attempting to break their own necks.

The she-male in the fishnet stockings goes first, kicking and jerking until she no longer has the strength to fight, her face turning a nasty shade of red and then a purplish hue. She starts to twitch, her legs spasming as her body flinches, and she begins to twist in place. For her it has been a painful hanging. Mercifully, it is just about over.

She’s almost done when her counterpart kicks up in a burst of adrenaline and then suddenly hangs limp, her body twisting around in the opposite direction as her muscles spasm. Her legs twitch as her breasts heave, drool spilling out of her mouth to splatter onto her tits. She has a horrible look of agony on her face as she lets out a guttural gasp that achieves nothing.

The two she-males twist around and around in opposite directions, their bodies swaying back and forth between their three living counterparts. The cock of the lady-boy in the fishnet stockings finally softens enough for a streamer of piss to dribble out of it. The she-male with the confining nylons simply pisses herself, further adding to the mess she has already made, urine mixing with cum to stream down her nyloned legs.

The crowd cheers as the two winning contestants are rewarded. The she-male in the sheer nylons is given to the barbecue pit for a sizeable compensation while the one in the fishnet stockings will suffer the further indignity of giving up her head. All five will remain on the gallows for a full fifteen minutes. Then they will be taken down, the living to return to the holding pens while the dead will be disposed at the whims of those who have won them…

6 Archery range (Jul 10 ’11)

I awaken in unfamiliar surroundings from a massive hangover. I’m in an outdoor cage with narrow metal bars along with a dozen other she-males. It’s warm out and I suspect it’s going to get much hotter before the day is over.

I’m embarrassed to discover I’m wearing nothing other than my fishnet stockings and my black heels. It’s what I was wearing in the middle of my debauchery from last night, what little I remember of it. I vaguely recall stripping down to do a little impromptu stage show on the bar. I think Keandra and Tiara came over to suck my cock while I was…

Wait a minute! Keandra! Tiara! Where are they??

I find them both in a corner, sleeping it off. They’re both still wearing their sheer, black nylon body stockings. The three of us were the toast of the tavern last night when we stripped down to our nylons and put on a dance for everyone, wriggling our tits in everyone’s faces. But now I have a hangover that could kill a rhinoceros. Obviously they drank so much that they’re still out like a light.

My mind is a blur; I can’t for the life of me remember how we got here. But I do remember how slutty we all were. I vaguely recall the three of us having an impromptu cock-sucking contest involving every male in the tavern.

Tiara is such a slut! She got so plastered that she boasted she could suck more dicks than Keandra and I. Naturally Keandra took offense, the drunken whore. Before I knew it the three of us were on our knees, taking cock after cock down our gullets as all those drunken bastards gathered around us.

I touch my face, remembering that at one point it was totally covered with cum last night. But my face is clean. Either I must have washed it off or else someone did it for me. There’s no cum dripping off my breasts either. But I don’t remember taking the time to clean myself.

There are people all around and there are sounds of some sort of carnival in the air. I smell barbecue, but the aroma is vaguely disturbing. I look all around but I notice to my great alarm that only she-males seem to be incarcerated with me, lady-boys who are just as naked as me and my companions… some of them with no clothing of any kind.

I walk over to Keandra and Tiara and try to awaken them. They’re both groggy, and it takes a while for them both to come around. I try to get them to tell me what happened to us last night. But both are just as hung over and as clueless as I am. It seems we were all severely plastered last night. I barely remember little more than bits and pieces… certainly nothing about how we got here.

A man comes over, and two of our imprisoned, naked comrades are taken away. It occurs to me five she-male bitches have been removed from the cage in the short time I’ve been conscious. But none of them have returned.

I’ve heard loud cheers at certain times… cheers that made my blood run cold. Once I heard a bell ring out, followed by a loud thumping sound. The crowd in that direction instantly roared its approval. But it made everyone else in my cage turn to look with fear in their eyes. None of us have seen anything significant. But I know it’s a bad harbinger of things to come.

The three of us begin milling around with the others, trying to find out where we are and why we are here. No one seems to know anything. But what we learn is nine have been taken away and that five of us were brought in seemingly as replacements. But replacements for what, they cannot say.

Several folks pass by our cage, looking in on us and making rather lewd comments. Some of the remarks are downright frightening. I hear them saying things like how we would look good dancing on air or how nice one of our heads would look adorning someone’s mantel. I find myself wishing we were all back in that tavern, being slutty and getting rip-roaring drunk instead of imprisoned in this cage in the heat of the day.

Three men suddenly show up and motion toward Keandra, Tiara and I, telling us to follow them. I have an urge to run but I’m still hung over. Besides, I suspect it will do no good. So we all follow meekly.

As the three of us are escorted out of the cage, we see the remaining prisoners watch us leave. I swear they have looks on their faces as though they’re watching dead bitches walking. It’s like they’re never going to see us again. It chills me to my soul.

“Where are they taking us, Jessica?” Keandra asks me. I tell her I don’t know. Tiara looks like she’s scared half to death.

We’re led to a field with three large wooden X’s on it. There’s a wooden counter a short distance away and I see people lining up behind it. There’s a carnival barker calling out, “ARCHERY RANGE – ARCHERY RANGE! SHOOT A SHE-MALE – WIN A PRIZE! STEP RIGHT UP TO THE ARCHERY RANGE! AND HERE THEY COME, FOLKS!” Gawd! The bastard is motioning right at us!!

The three of us are numb with shock, too hung over to resist as we’re secured to the three wooden X’s. I’m placed in the middle, strapped spread-eagled to the damned thing as Keandra is secured to my right, Tiara to my left. They’re actually going to use us for target practice?? I can’t believe this!

They pull down the tops of the body stockings of my friends, humiliating them by exposing their heaving breasts to the eyes of the watching spectators. The three of us are left topless to lusty cheers. Then our captors finish tying us up, walking away and leaving us to the whims of the crowd.

The carnival barker starts handing out bows and arrows to certain individuals who’ve apparently paid for the privilege of taking shots at us! “ALL RIGHT – WHO’LL BE NEXT?” he cries out. “SHOOT A SHE-MALE – WIN A PRIZE!”

We’re about thirty feet away as the first one fumbles with his bow and arrow.  He aims at Keandra and she whimpers with fright, her eyes big as saucers as her cock strains underneath her nylons. She’s terrified and humiliated being secured to the cross under the hot sun. Thankfully the arrow doesn’t reach her.

The novice with the bow loads a second arrow as some other guy on the other end of the counter takes aim at Tiara. He fires and she shrieks in terror. But the arrow flies over my head instead, and a scream is torn from my lips. We’re liable to be hit by accident as much as anything else.

The crowd laughs as the man in the middle takes aim at me. At the same time I see Keandra’s archer line up his second shot. Both arrows fly at almost the same moment, and we scream together. Mine falls close to my ankle while Keandra’s whizzes on past her head. Then Tiara cries out again as an arrow sticks in the ground directly between her spread legs.

My chest heaves as I hyperventilate like mad. I keep trying to get a decent breath of air while being exposed in this hot sun as the murderous archer takes aim at me again. On either side of me my companions pant and whimper with fright, the three of us helpless to do anything other than watch and accept the fate destined to befall us no matter how much we hope to the contrary.

A third arrow flies at each one of us. Tiara shrieks as she is almost hit in the upper thigh. The archers are getting the range; it’s only a matter of time. They get four arrows instead of three and I’m afraid the three of us are going to be hit.

Keandra gets it first, a shot that finds her right upper thigh. She shrieks, creaming her nylons with her hard cock as the arrow buries itself in her flesh. Tiara screams a few seconds later as an arrow impales itself into her left shoulder.

I pant madly for breath as my archer takes aim and lets fly. I’m sure I’m going to be gut-shot. But it whizzes just below my crotch. I nearly faint with relief as the other two archers are awarded their prizes.

The carnival barker comes and retrieves the wayward arrows. But he leaves the two sticking in my friends. Maybe it’s to keep them from bleeding out. Or maybe he leaves them in for the amusement of the spectators.

“Enjoy yourselves, ladies,” he kindly pats each of them with a wicked smile. “It’s only going to get worse.” Then he heads back to the counter, once more calling out, “ALL RIGHT – WHO’LL BE NEXT? SHOOT A SHE-MALE – WIN A PRIZE!”

There’s no rest for us as three more archers step up. Everyone else hangs around to watch us get hit, the fucking perverts! I’d gladly suck the cock of every male in sight if they would only let us down from here.

More arrows fly, the first ones usually falling short or flying well beyond us. The second ones get dangerously close as they begin finding the range. On the third try I cry out in agony as I finally get gut-shot, my cock instinctively spurting to the laughter of the crowd. Keandra gets an arrow in her shoulder while Tiara gets a wicked flesh wound in her thigh, the crowd cheering with each direct hit.

The three of us whimper in agony as the fourth arrow of each archer finds its mark. Keandra takes one to her stomach while I’m hit in the left side. Tiara gets the worst as hers hits her in the groin, skewering her cock through her nylons and pinning it to her belly. Cum oozes from her wound as she screams in agony while the crowd roars its approval.

The arrows that have missed us are fetched as new archers step up to the counter. This time we get novices. The worst of it is a single arrow that penetrates my right foot. It hurts like hell as we all whimper while panting for breath in the hot sun. By now I think we all want to die just to end the agony and humiliation of it all.

There are three more archers before Keandra finally gets an arrow square in her stomach, puncturing her navel.

I get one in the arm and upper chest, narrowly missing my left breast.

Tiara gets another in her thigh along with one that barely penetrates the right side of her chest. It breaks a rib as she cries out in agony.

The three of us are in mortal agony when a dangerous looking man steps up to the counter. “Allow me to end their suffering,” he states with a grim look on his face. The crowd edges forward, eager to see him administer the coup de grâce.

The three of us whimper as we plead with our eyes for him to just end it. I want to die; the pain is incredible. I just want my suffering to end.

He takes aim and the first arrow hit’s Keandra in the right breast, obliterating her nipple. She gurgles as her lungs fill with blood, the crimson bubbling up out of her mouth. She shudders for a moment drowning in her own blood. Then her eyes glaze over and she finally slumps, her suffering at an end.

Tiara is next and she takes a shot in her breastbone, right between her gorgeous tits. She begins coughing up blood as well and it spews out onto her heaving mounds. I see a flicker of thanks in her eyes before her body sags in death. Then he aims his next arrow at me.

I throw my chest out, hoping he’ll make it quick. A moment later an arrow punctures my left breast. Although blood fills my lungs he’s hit my heart. I spasm for a few moments and then sag lifelessly, grateful it’s finally over.

Our bloated corpses are left up for another hour until our bodies look like pincushions. Blood from over a dozen wounds streams down to stain Keandra and Tiara’s nylons. Meanwhile the crimson flow slithers down my fishnet stockings to puddle onto the ground underneath my feet. When we’ve apparently been subjected to enough degradation our bodies are taken down. Then three more she-males are retrieved from the cage to take our places…