Index 
Chapters 2+3
Subject: CODY: NEW NOVEL THE STAND-IN, Chp. 1
From: mithryl@walrus.com (Mithryl)
Date: 1997/07/20
Message-Id: <5qtik2$65j@alice.walrus.com>
Newsgroups: alt.personals.bondage,alt.sex.stories,rec.arts.prose
The following story will continue in alt.sex.stories,
rec.arts.prose and possibly alt.sex.bondage. Feel free to write.
C.
THE STAND-IN
By Cody Ann Michaels
c. All rights reserved
"The age at which the girls seem interesting is clearly dropping,
but it's only the maniacs who go for girls below the third grade." --
editor of a Japanese magazine featuring naked elementary school girls. NY
Times, 4/2/97
...in any case, it is legal in Tokyo for men to have
sex with children over the age of 12. -- ibid.
Chapter 1
"Did you ever think...," Martin asked, "ever stop to consider,
this 'hobby' of yours might... how it might affect others?"
"What do you mean?"
"What I mean is, suppose someone, some guy got so carried away
reading what happens to you, that he actually went and did that. What
then?"
"I don't know. What?"
Martin paused to think of something. Martin's my shrink now.
This was our last session before the summer break. I knew he was trying
to caution me. Martin has never been as enthusiastic about my internet
activities as Liz. "You tell people that your roommate, Kelly, ships you
around the country to beat up. Be beaten up."
"y..yes."
"Like mail order porn, except it's mail order hard core sadism."
"Right."
"Suppose some guy just decided to do it on his own."
"I suppose he could. There are thousands of guys out there
beating up their old ladies. So what?"
"But they don't all read your stories for pointers."
"What are you trying to say, Martin?"
"You may be having an undue influence on some people."
"Oh, you mean like Tom?"
"Who?"
"Tom. He's some kind of serial sadist who writes to me."
"What does he say?"
I knew this was a trap. Martin loves to hear what happens in
these stories. I hadn't told him about Tom. Maybe I'd been saving it.
Waiting for just this kind of moment, when he was going away, and he would
be left hanging. "He likes to beat up littl e girls."
"You mean really?"
"How should I know. This is the internet. He says he does.
Since he can't get his hands on me, he gets a substitute. Someone to
stand in. And then he writes and tells me what happened."
"How long has he been doing this?"
"About a year."
"You never told me."
"I forgot." I lied.
Well, I sort of forgot. I can't keep track of everyone who writes
to me.
"Cody, do you realize you could be an accessory to this man?"
"Oh yeah?"
"An accomplice."
"Come on. All I do is give him tips. I don't actually hurt the
girl."
"My God!"
"It's no big deal. Is it?"
Martin thought. "Where is this? I mean, where does Tom live?"
"I don't know."
"You must have some idea."
"He sort of moves around a lot. Something makes me think he's in
Georgia. But I can't be sure."
"Have you thought of going to the police?"
I just looked at him. What a dumb question. Me? The cops?
Trying to explain about Uncle Tom. Come on.
I knew Martin wanted to ask me another question, but our hour was
up, and I wouldn't see him again until September. He advised me to be
careful. I could tell he had already lost interest.
*
It started this way:
From ringman@aol.com Thu Dec 1 12:47:13 1996
Date: Wed, 30 Nov 96 18:17:35 PST
From: Tom Ringman <ringman@aol.com>
To: mythryl@walrus.com
Subject: Re: Cody: Female Sub
You are a pig.
I would like to hang you up by your tits, and whip you til you
bleed. I want to hear you scream. I would make your long legs kick. I
hope you are as pretty as you say cause I like to hurt pretty women like
you. I wish you had a dick, cause I would cu t it off and make you eat
it. You are a fucking cunt slut.
I wrote back:
Gee, Tom, I like you, too. Was it something I said? Or are you
having a bad day under your pet rock? Maybe if you tried carving a face
on your penis, you could pretend it was me and beat it the way you want
to. Otherwise, drop dead.
Cody
Okay. It wasn't the cleverest thing I ever wrote, but consider
the inspiration. What a jerk.
I was surprised when he wrote back.
>you tried carving a face on your penis, you could pretend
>it was me and beat it the way you want to. Otherwise
I did something better than that. I got this girl here, with big
knockers who looks like you, and I'm going to have fun with her. You want
to know about it?
Well, at first, I thought he meant a blowup doll. At least, I
hoped that was what he meant. But I wrote back, "sure. Tell me
everything."
It was horrible. He had no command of syntax. And the spelling,
forget about it. If that girl suffered as much as I did reading that
piece of shit, it must have been totally horrible.
He started by telling me he had gotten this girl; she was 22 and
had long red hair; he had picked her up in a bar somewhere and taken her
to a cabin his buddy had out in the woods. Sure, and you have a desktop
out there in the boonies and you're writing to me about it. Come on. Get
real. Next time it was in a gas station.
I didn't believe him. These were my stories. As I lived them and
as I wrote them. He was recycling. There was nothing original about
them. I told him what a faker he was. He said, okay. He'd show me.
The next time, I had a little bit of trouble suspending belief.
It seemed a little too gory. And there were details that I had never
thought of. The way the girl begged. She was fourteen. And worked
nights in a supermarket. Down south. It's not un common. At least she
didn't lap dance. Well, she did, before it was over. But that was more
for show. I asked him what he did with the body. He dumped it somewhere.
I knew he was playing with me.
Then he started to tell me about this mother and daughter combo
who lived in his town. The daughter was fourteen, too, and the mother
didn't seem much older. Twenty four or twenty five. I found that hard to
believe. He said it didn't matter. They bo th looked like teenagers.
Would he like me to do something with them? I said no. I felt it was a
trap. I wasn't going to take responsibility for his trip. It was up to
him. What do you want me to do, he asked. I don't want anything I said.
What do they look like? The mother has long black hair. The kid's a
redhead. Big for her age. Where do they work? Circuit City. The mother
did. The girl was in school. Just the mention of a real brand name sort
of startled me. Put me off. Forget it. I didn't want to be involved.
Which would he like me to get first? The old lady or the frail. I said
neither.
Tom said the woman's name was Felony and the girl was named
Shiloh. Oh God. What names. What's their last name, I asked. He
wouldn't tell. Not so fast. He knew I might try to warn them. I thought
of doing it anyway. How many Felonies were there i n America? Especially
with kids like Shiloh. Single mother. The Salley Jessie show had
hundreds of them. Having trouble with their daughters. I had done this
show dozens of times with different mothers. But one of the best had been
named Felony. We did the standard mother-daughter bit; she was a white
trash single parent; I was 12 and out of control. We had been all over
the dial. Salley. Jerry. Jenny. Tempest. Morrey. Morrey loved us.
Especially me. Maybe he saw it and that's where he got the na me. If so,
he knew what I looked like. I had had to hold up a sign saying I was a
teenage tramp who sucked cock. Don't be a dummy like me. Right on the
street. While they videotaped what people said to me. It was so sick. I
was so humiliated. I ha d to give them my name, too. Shiloh Grep. Was
that it? Was that who he was stalking? But Shiloh Grep was me. I looked
around. Naaaa, that couldn't be it. It had to be a coincidence. Felony.
Take Felony first.
Well, she wasn't really my mom. My real mom. If it was the right
Felony. I felt he was playing a game with me. Until he started to
describe what he had done to Felony.
It was painful. I think I told you, I'm an empath. I can feel
what happens to other people almost as if it's my own pain. Like you know
who. Except for me, it's real. And I sure felt Felony's. It was
mesmerizing. I didn't think a woman could go th rough that. It was worse
than childbirth. I wondered how he sound proofed the room. Some guys use
egg cartons. Others have a professional job. Or they have a bunker
underground. Keeps the noise in. The joy of hearing a woman shriek. And
not have t o worry about the neighbors. The girl went mad.
Then he let her go. I was amazed. He actually let her go. I
staggered home. Clutching myself. Every step tore me apart. On high
heels. They felt like they had been pounded up into my legs with nails.
I fell down the stairs trying to get up to the door. My silver dress was
hiked up over my bleeding haunches. No one cared. I finally crawled up
the steps one at a time, and scratched at the door. Shiloh let me in.
Hi, ma. I got to go. She left. I could hear the school bus pulling up
outside. I crawled through the door and passed out.
The girl was next. Wasn't she? Tom let me hang for awhile. He
went out and got someone else. Killed her. Told me about it. In
meticulous detail. While I sweated, wondering what would happen next.
After awhile, he began to talk about Shiloh. Virg inia. What it was
like. Why it was important. What happened there. The bloodiest battle
of the civil war. Between mother and daughter. Right there on camera.
The ratings soared. Eat your heart out, Oprah. "I'm going to kill you,"
Felony said. He r face looked like steak. We made up this absurd story I
had had beaten her up. And broken her leg. And had her tattooed. Salley
made her stand up and bend over so they could see the words across her
bottom. Jonny had done it with an electric shaver. Mom sat down. "Show
them your tits." The tits were even worse. She shook her head. Salley
waited. Finally, she reached up and pulled the dress down. I reached
over and jerked it down. Cody! "Shiloh, you dumb ass." I hissed at her.
Shiloh! I d on't think anyone notice. I had pulled her bra down, too.
Her big jugs flopped out with "cum" "pig" stenciled on them. It was all
we could think of at the time. Salley looked at me sternly. Why would
you do that to your mother? I said I didn't know. It just come to me
while we was doing it. "I wanted to put 'urinate on me' on her but none
of us knew how to spell it." A couple of guys had wanted to fuck my mom
and I said they could do it. I just wanted to watch. And take a video.
Salley said to roll it. The audience watched fascinated as the two guys
beat up my Mom and fucked her. And then tattooed her tits and ass. Then
we took her out to a bar.
In a tight white dress. And made her stand there and give it
away. She was bleeding out of her cunt, she had been fucked so raw.
That's when I made the deal with Tom to take her home. It was fun. I
really liked it.
What happened? Martin wanted to know. But I hadn't told him. I
wanted him to think about it through August and let him come up with his
own answer. Tom said he had Shiloh. Was I ready for this? Oh my God, I
forgot. I'm Shiloh Grep. So who did he have? Wait a minute. Who do
you have? Shiloh. Shiloh Grep. You want to talk to her?
My hands touched the keyboard. Sure. Go ahead.
Cody, Shiloh said, get me out of this.
What's going on?
What do you mean, what's going on? He's got me.
Who? Who's got me.
Tom Ringman. He works at the store. In the meat department. He
brought me home.
Sure. Right. Come on. Who are you?
my nmae is shiloh grep anddioir di aaaa help me
he hit je
me
he said I'm you. I'm not. I'maargaegadrgaergh
afdgeasf
I wondered what had happened to her.
pealsfa codayg ghelp me
'Shiloh, let me speak to Tom.
Yeah. What?
Tom, I don't know if you have someone there or not, but if you do,
let her go.
I'm going to.
Now, Tom.
I waited.
Okay. I untied her.
I wondered. Was he fooling?
Let me speak to Shiloh.
Another wait.
hi. I'm okay.
Are you sure?
Yes. It was just a misunderstanding. He said he'd take me home.
If he tries anything else, call the police.
I will. Thanks.
Tom came back on. I'm going to take her home. Then I'll write to
you. Okay?
Okay.
I knew I was in big trouble. When she got home, she was going to
call the police. And report he had raped her. And he would say I put him
up to it. But I hadn't. I had sicced him on Felony, but not Shiloh. She
was totally off limits. But they woul dn't know that. If they believed
him, I could be arrested for sexual offenses against a child. I had to
shut her up.
I picked her up in a jeep and we drove out into the woods. There
I tied a rope around her neck and hung her from a tree. It was just short
enough to keep her on her toes. Her wrists and elbows were tied tightly
behind her back. A rope tied to her wri sts came through her legs and
tied to a rope round her waist. It was just tight enough for her to ride
it. Each time she tried to put weight into it, she cut off her air. Then
she straightened herself again. She was getting tired. I stood back and
wa tched as she died. She jerked the rope up into her crotch. Spasming.
Then she relaxed and regained consciousness. She was dazed. In a few
minutes, it all began again. The cycle of air and breathing and then
sinking down into my nether regions. Becoming one with them. And then
being cut off. Suddenly, and then coming back up. How long could it go
on? I was desperate. I slowly died. My brain becoming more and more cut
off. Only a central core kept me alive. Made me stand up straight and
breat he. My hair hung in my face. I sucked air in and out of my mouth.
I blew it out. My hair danced in front of my face. I was going down
again. oh god no.
i passed out I died. The chick was dead. I hung limp from the tree. my
toes trailing in the dirt. Then I came back. I remembered who I was and
what I looked like. I got up. And came towards you. Smiling.
Index Chapters 2+3