Carny - October 18
Welcome to my serial Carny! I hope you enjoy this little Halloween treat. New episodes will appear every day through October.
Step right up! For just a dime see wonders beyond imagining!
And maybe we'll let you leave with your soul...
Step right up! For just a dime see wonders beyond imagining!
And maybe we'll let you leave with your soul...
Start on October 1
October 18
Andre worked in Copley’s magic show the last hour of the day. The crowd stood around the raised stage platform, at least 30 townies waiting for the final show of the night to begin. Andre knew the routine but his job tonight was different than it had been when he had tits. He stood at the back of the stage behind a curtain, out of sight of the tip, wearing a dust-coated white shirt tucked into belted trousers and black loafers, a little small on his feet.
Copley walked back and forth on the stage, in his full-caped Professor Dread outfit, stepping around an upright box that resembled a coffin. “What ghosts will we summon tonight when we sacrifice this lovely damsel?”
Andre winced at that. Venus would be the damsel in the box tonight and she was lovely enough in good light, but Andre took a lot of pleasure earlier noticing how much smaller the crowd in the cooch was for Venus and the others than it had been when Andrea danced. Even here on the magic stage, Venus didn’t draw the same whistles and cheers.
Copley’s act was evolving. He added more spooks every night and Andre knew he was still working out the details of bringing the devil skin onto the stage. The damn thing still drew great tips in poor dead Doc’s museum, but Copley wanted it front and center. The magician seemed almost obsessed with the idea of creating an illusion around the damned thing.
No matter what else might happen.
Andre remembered how Copley had been with her behind the curtain back when he’d been a she, when the coffin set-up was going on, how he’d touched her, his hands insistent and strong. The thought of him touching Venus like that made Andre sick. His cock twitched and his chest muscles tightened. He remembered how Copley had fucked him when he’d been a girl. Would he fuck Venus that way? He looked down at his crotch. Could he fuck Venus that way? Copley was winding up to the climax, bringing endless cheap handkerchief ghosts out of a tube and tossing them to the tip.
Venus entered from the back of the stage, her long legs bare, wearing a top that barely covered her chest. She passed close enough to Andre that he smelled her perfume and his cock got hard. She gave him a wink, all but licking her lips, and he thought he might come in his pressed pants. Jesus, he thought. Are men always like this? He moved from behind the stage, stepping down so he could keep an eye on the act. The gear he needed for the part of the show Copley called a blackout was in a burlap sack that he sat at Andre’s feet. Around the edges of the tent, a couple of the game agents and ride jockeys mingled with the crowd, similar bags beside them. When the lights went out, each man would take the props out of his bag – phosphorescent ghosts and spiders, an articulated plywood skeleton – and the darkness would teem briefly with blue-white specters. Andre had been dubious about the effect at first but he had to admit it wowed the rubes.
“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we will open a door into the darkness. As these blades pass through beautiful Venus, her blood will mark the path for the dead to return. Do not be alarmed and, when the lights go out, stay very still. The person beside you may not be the person you came in with. He may be …a ghoul, a monster, a devil. Such is the power of the devil and his demons of delight!”
Venus posed for a moment then Copley opened the coffin and she climbed in, squeezing her breasts with her crossed arms until they threatened to spill out of the cloth tube that confined them.
Copley closed the door and motioned to Andre. Andre remembered that he was supposed to bring the blades out and he climbed back on the stage, leaving his bag of spooks behind. The blades were real but the coffin was gaffed so they would miss Venus. Too fucking bad, Andre thought. He handed the swords to the magician and gave him a look that he hoped Copley would feel, a searing brand of jealousy that Venus was in the box and not Andrea. There was nothing logical in his sudden hatred, but he wanted to gut Venus and maybe Copley too.
“Now…we sacrifice the maiden and open the gate.” The crowd laughed at the word “maiden,” and Copley shrugged as if to say, “We make do with what we have,” and that got an even bigger laugh. But the laughter stopped when Copley ran the first blade into the box and Venus screamed, a keening that trembled with the lost accomplishments of a life wrongly cut short. Hidden inside the box, Venus was convincing enough that Andre thought for a moment that she had really been stabbed. Copley thrust the second blade and she screamed again. A trickle of blood ran from the holes and out of the bottom of the box. Just a trick, Andre knew, but the townies grew quiet as death.
“And now,” Copley shouted. “We open the gate!” He shot the last blade home, and Andre had a vision of the sword like a cock, penetrating Venus in the most intimate way, just as the lights went out.
Fuck, he thought, groping for the bag, realizing he had been distracted and blown his cue. Fortunately the other spook-wranglers were on top of their game, and ghosts and skulls weaved and flew through the audience, some of them suspended on thin, cane poles, others waved enthusiastically by hand.
The townies were screaming and laughing and Andre felt a surge of adrenalin-fueled hate in his arms and legs. He stepped to the coffin and opened it, his actions lost in the pandemonium. Venus screamed when he touched her – the blades hadn’t hurt her at all, of course – but Andre’s hands would. He caught her throat in a hard grip, choking the scream, aiming to stop her breath or break her neck.
He squeezed and something hot and red happened behind him. Startled, he released Venus and looked back into the audience pit, where a figure thrashed and shrieked, aflame. Someone in the crowd was burning alive.
Fire danced, people panicked and a frantic knot of fighting bodies tore out the south wall of the tent. When the wall came down, lot lights and stars illuminated the flopping, blazing figure for only a moment before the canvas top fell like a shroud, smothering the flames, felling the coffin and Venus within it, Andre atop her, both of them pinned beneath the canvas.
“Oh god,” Venus cried as Andre groped her, trying to push himself up, careful of the dull but dangerous edges of the blades. “Oh god, help me.”
“I’ll help you,” Andre said, his hand back on her throat, stroking this time.
“Who are you?” she whispered, calmer.
Andre whispered in a voice he hardly recognized as his own, “Oh Venus, I am the future.”
October 18Andre worked in Copley’s magic show the last hour of the day. The crowd stood around the raised stage platform, at least 30 townies waiting for the final show of the night to begin. Andre knew the routine but his job tonight was different than it had been when he had tits. He stood at the back of the stage behind a curtain, out of sight of the tip, wearing a dust-coated white shirt tucked into belted trousers and black loafers, a little small on his feet.
Copley walked back and forth on the stage, in his full-caped Professor Dread outfit, stepping around an upright box that resembled a coffin. “What ghosts will we summon tonight when we sacrifice this lovely damsel?”
Andre winced at that. Venus would be the damsel in the box tonight and she was lovely enough in good light, but Andre took a lot of pleasure earlier noticing how much smaller the crowd in the cooch was for Venus and the others than it had been when Andrea danced. Even here on the magic stage, Venus didn’t draw the same whistles and cheers.
Copley’s act was evolving. He added more spooks every night and Andre knew he was still working out the details of bringing the devil skin onto the stage. The damn thing still drew great tips in poor dead Doc’s museum, but Copley wanted it front and center. The magician seemed almost obsessed with the idea of creating an illusion around the damned thing.
No matter what else might happen.
Andre remembered how Copley had been with her behind the curtain back when he’d been a she, when the coffin set-up was going on, how he’d touched her, his hands insistent and strong. The thought of him touching Venus like that made Andre sick. His cock twitched and his chest muscles tightened. He remembered how Copley had fucked him when he’d been a girl. Would he fuck Venus that way? He looked down at his crotch. Could he fuck Venus that way? Copley was winding up to the climax, bringing endless cheap handkerchief ghosts out of a tube and tossing them to the tip.
Venus entered from the back of the stage, her long legs bare, wearing a top that barely covered her chest. She passed close enough to Andre that he smelled her perfume and his cock got hard. She gave him a wink, all but licking her lips, and he thought he might come in his pressed pants. Jesus, he thought. Are men always like this? He moved from behind the stage, stepping down so he could keep an eye on the act. The gear he needed for the part of the show Copley called a blackout was in a burlap sack that he sat at Andre’s feet. Around the edges of the tent, a couple of the game agents and ride jockeys mingled with the crowd, similar bags beside them. When the lights went out, each man would take the props out of his bag – phosphorescent ghosts and spiders, an articulated plywood skeleton – and the darkness would teem briefly with blue-white specters. Andre had been dubious about the effect at first but he had to admit it wowed the rubes.
“Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we will open a door into the darkness. As these blades pass through beautiful Venus, her blood will mark the path for the dead to return. Do not be alarmed and, when the lights go out, stay very still. The person beside you may not be the person you came in with. He may be …a ghoul, a monster, a devil. Such is the power of the devil and his demons of delight!”
Venus posed for a moment then Copley opened the coffin and she climbed in, squeezing her breasts with her crossed arms until they threatened to spill out of the cloth tube that confined them.
Copley closed the door and motioned to Andre. Andre remembered that he was supposed to bring the blades out and he climbed back on the stage, leaving his bag of spooks behind. The blades were real but the coffin was gaffed so they would miss Venus. Too fucking bad, Andre thought. He handed the swords to the magician and gave him a look that he hoped Copley would feel, a searing brand of jealousy that Venus was in the box and not Andrea. There was nothing logical in his sudden hatred, but he wanted to gut Venus and maybe Copley too.
“Now…we sacrifice the maiden and open the gate.” The crowd laughed at the word “maiden,” and Copley shrugged as if to say, “We make do with what we have,” and that got an even bigger laugh. But the laughter stopped when Copley ran the first blade into the box and Venus screamed, a keening that trembled with the lost accomplishments of a life wrongly cut short. Hidden inside the box, Venus was convincing enough that Andre thought for a moment that she had really been stabbed. Copley thrust the second blade and she screamed again. A trickle of blood ran from the holes and out of the bottom of the box. Just a trick, Andre knew, but the townies grew quiet as death.
“And now,” Copley shouted. “We open the gate!” He shot the last blade home, and Andre had a vision of the sword like a cock, penetrating Venus in the most intimate way, just as the lights went out.
Fuck, he thought, groping for the bag, realizing he had been distracted and blown his cue. Fortunately the other spook-wranglers were on top of their game, and ghosts and skulls weaved and flew through the audience, some of them suspended on thin, cane poles, others waved enthusiastically by hand.
The townies were screaming and laughing and Andre felt a surge of adrenalin-fueled hate in his arms and legs. He stepped to the coffin and opened it, his actions lost in the pandemonium. Venus screamed when he touched her – the blades hadn’t hurt her at all, of course – but Andre’s hands would. He caught her throat in a hard grip, choking the scream, aiming to stop her breath or break her neck.
He squeezed and something hot and red happened behind him. Startled, he released Venus and looked back into the audience pit, where a figure thrashed and shrieked, aflame. Someone in the crowd was burning alive.
Fire danced, people panicked and a frantic knot of fighting bodies tore out the south wall of the tent. When the wall came down, lot lights and stars illuminated the flopping, blazing figure for only a moment before the canvas top fell like a shroud, smothering the flames, felling the coffin and Venus within it, Andre atop her, both of them pinned beneath the canvas.
“Oh god,” Venus cried as Andre groped her, trying to push himself up, careful of the dull but dangerous edges of the blades. “Oh god, help me.”
“I’ll help you,” Andre said, his hand back on her throat, stroking this time.
“Who are you?” she whispered, calmer.
Andre whispered in a voice he hardly recognized as his own, “Oh Venus, I am the future.”
On to October 19
Copyright 2011 Angela Caperton. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.
Copyright 2011 Angela Caperton. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.
Posted by Angela Caperton at 10/18/2011 8:26 PM 
Categories: Horror, Carny, Angela Caperton, Erotica
Tags: Angela Caperton erotica horror Carny
Categories: Horror, Carny, Angela Caperton, Erotica
Tags: Angela Caperton erotica horror Carny
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