ARmy Rumour SErvice

We need more...come on Arte get your pen out and finish the story. Please add the use of a hedgehog somewhere to as I've always felt they were evil...


Sent from Oz using the yellow brick road.

Chapter Ten

I had assembled the component parts on the C14 Timberwolf, and it felt heavy and balanced as I pulled the butt into my shoulder and raised the barrel. The Leupold Mark 4 glassware would require a bit of fine tuning, but this weapon was definitely ready to go.

The snow had stopped falling and the sun was low in the sky as I stepped out the back door of the barn. My small piece of English earth started here, and finished six acres away to the North.

The ground was damp under the groundsheet, and the two sandbags were frozen solid, with no give in them at all as I rested my left forearm against them.

With the marksmanship principles firmly embedded in my brain, I raised the weapon once again. The view through the 10X40mm sight was startlingly clear, the mil dot reticule steady as a rock as I focused on a tree that I knew was exactly 863 meters away.

I raised the rifle slightly, up and to the left. A branch about the thickness of a man’s arm hove into view.

With my right hand I lifted and pulled back the bolt, the rotary action was smooth as I slammed it forward, feeding the chamber with the first of the Lapua Scenar .338 calibre rounds.

I squeezed the trigger and felt the recoil as the 300 grain chunk of lead left the barrel at over 800 metres a second.

The small branch exploded as the round made contact, a murder of crows lifted skywards shrieking and cawing as my actions disturbed their day.

I made two minor adjustments to the MOA windage and elevation, slammed another round into the breech and fired again. The remaining stump of the shattered branch separated from the trunk, exactly as planned. Zeroed.

Alison quietly made her way down to the cellar, the lights were off, the only sound penetrating the inky darkness was that of Saffron sobbing. Alison smiled.

Moving back inside the barn, I climbed the rack of stairs leading to the upper storey and my viewing room.

The soft warning tone from a wall speaker alerted me to the fact a vehicle had entered another area of interest. I couldn’t see the relevant CCTV monitor from my present position, but I had a clear view of the front of my property, and at least a mile of lane leading to Little Fisting.

The C14 Timberwolf was now beginning to feel like an old friend, as I scanned the length of the lane through the Leupold sight.

At 1200 metres, I spotted a red Ford Fiesta heading my way. At 900 metres I could clearly see the driver. It was Mia.

I tracked her for another 300 metres, the mil dot reticule moving from the centre of her chest to her neck. This shot would be fairly tricky; the vehicle was travelling at about 30mph and closing fast. The windscreen would offer little by way of protection to the incumbent driver, but would almost certainly deflect the round slightly.

I couldn’t see the top of Mia’s head, but I noticed her lips moving. Singing perhaps? Or more worryingly, making a hands free phone call.

I lowered the rifle as Mia turned onto my drive; two more soft alarm calls indicated to me that my security system was functioning correctly. I climbed back down the stairs, placed the weapon on my work bench, and went out to greet Mia.

“Hi Mia.” I called out as Mia opened the driver’s door and slowly slid one of her long legs towards the ground.

She had changed out of her boiler suit at some stage, and I wondered idly if she purchased the short dress and heels in Ashbourne. The dress had ridden up her thighs during her journey, and it was obvious that she was wearing no underwear. Her moist clam almost winked at me as she stepped from the vehicle.

“Hey Arte.” She replied, her husky voice causing my old feller to dance a little tango.

“How was your journey?” I enquired. “You seem to have made good time despite the weather.”

“God, it was bloody awful Arte. I nearly went off the road twice.”

“These roads can be a tad dangerous. Still, you’ve arrived in one piece, and if I may be so bold, you look stunning.”

Mia blushed, or was the front of her chest glowing red from excitement?

“Let’s get you inside, and I’ll knock up a brew. You’ve got a busy old day ahead of you girl.”

I motioned for Mia to step ahead of me after I opened the front door to my cottage.

“Ladies first.” I offered.

“Thank you kind sir.” She replied. As my right hand formed a blade and crashed into the base of her neck.

Mia slumped instantly, her dress sliding up to reveal her bald gash as her head hit the wooden floor with a sickening thud.

I lifted her limp body and headed for the spare bedroom, where I tied her securely to the heavy wooden framed bed with two lengths of cordage. I then checked her pulse and breathing before sliding a finger into her puckered anal passage, and skiffed it across her top lip. The whore.

The plan I’d made with Alison was to leave her undisturbed in the cellar, so I headed for the kitchen and cranked up the coffee machine, and waited. It wasn’t difficult to notice however, that the freshly sharpened drill bits and the lump hammer were conspicuous by their absence.

I’d nearly finished my third cup of steaming Jamaican Blue, when Alison entered.

She was topless, her sweat covered breasts heaving and her eyes were alive with unadulterated excitement as she approached the table. She removed a blood covered surgical glove with a ‘snick’ and wiped the back of her hand across her moist brow.

“Shit Arte.” She panted. “That was fucking Ace.”

Now we're getting somewhere!

The joys of an unexpected skiff!

Originally Posted by Arte_et_Marte

Chapter Ten

the rotary action was smooth as I slammed it forward.”

OOooooooohhhhh I need to lie down and let the blood get back to my head

Chapter Eleven

“I think you had better go and get cleaned up Ali.” I told her “You’re in a right old mess, what the fuck did you do?”

“I had a bit of fun with her Arte, you know, tested out the power tools and that 15” black rubber cock (goatrutar) that I found in one of your cupboards.

“Ah, fair play girl, I’ll let you get off to the bathroom and I’ll clean up downstairs.”

Alison poured herself a glass of wine, and made her way to the master bathroom, as I followed her arrse all the way to the hall.

I heard some sort of mechanical hum as I made my way down the cellar stairs, and a strong metallic smell with a hint of burning plastic hit my nostrils as I entered the main room.

“Jeezus fucking Christ on a stick.” I muttered as I took in the macabre display that awaited me.
Saffron was unrecognisable as the young woman I had carried down earlier.

Her hair had been ripped out in clumps, the side of her head had been stoved in and her nose appeared to have been bitten off. One breast was completely missing and the other was completely mangled. Fresh blood still dripped from her battered legs, her kneecaps smashed to oblivion and her pretty ankles now pulverised. Alison had certainly gone postal with the lump hammer, which sat innocently in the corner of the room, replete with tufts of human hair and gore.

The mechanical sound I’d heard as I came down the stairs was obvious in its garishness; the 15” black rubber cock had been attached to a stainless steel pole, which in turn was attached to the Makita reciprocating saw body. (exXIX) Although there was a phase three electrical supply in the cellar, the saw body had been plugged into the 110v system, presumably as Alison’s nod to Health and Safety. (exXIX again)

The Makita was still working, the blood stained rubber phallus beasting its way in and out of what remained of Saffrons wrecked vagina.

I switched the machine off, and it slowly came to a halt, the black rubber still hidden by a mass of slippery organic flesh.

One of the freshly sharpened drill bits was still sitting in the chuck of the power drill, the 14mm bit covered in an unrecognisable sheen. I couldn’t see what body parts had been subjected to this instrument, but no doubt Alison would fill me in with the details later.

The switch for the double muffle furnace was on, Alison hadn’t forgotten in her excitement, and when the temperature in this oven levelled out at 1,900 degrees Celsius, Saffrons remains would be introduced into the fiery cauldron that would take about one hour to turn her into a pile of ash.

Having slid back the Makita, the black rubber cock slipped from Saffrons cunt with a plop, and I couldn’t help but give the old feller a bit of a squeeze. He was having the fucking time of his life inside my cotton work strides.

Within an hour, the cellar had been thoroughly decontaminated, the tools cleaned with industrial bleach and Saffrons body had been rammed unceremoniously into the custom built cremation retort. Job jobbed.

I joined Alison in the bathroom; she had scrubbed herself clean and was now up to her neck in suds in a large bubble bath, a glass of wine held daintily in her right hand. She didn’t look anything like the vicious psychopathic maniac that I knew her to be.

“All done below Ali.” I told her.

“Nothing has been done down here.” She retorted, pointing seductively at the spot in the bubbles above where her wet quim was patiently waiting.

“Shower first love and I’ll jump in with you.”

It didn’t take long for the powerful shower spray and ample measures of soap to rinse away the smell of gore and bleach, before I joined Alison in the large bath.

“Touch me Arte.” She murmured.

I obliged. To be honest, It would have been rude not to.

We continued our lovemaking from the bathroom and into the bedroom, the suds following our naked bodies like a massive trail of snail slime. Falling onto the bed, still wrapped in each other’s arms, her ample bosom pressed firmly against my chest, my engorged tool slowly slipping in and out of her soaking wet gash. Our lips mashed together with Alison in the throes of ecstasy.

Alison climaxed with a primeval roar, her body tense, showing off her perfectly formed musculature, I exploded deep within her, my lovemaking face on full bodied red alert.

We heard a scream.

Instantly silent, we looked at each other and both mouthed the same word. “Mia.”

Holy moley

Sent from my brick using poo stained fingers

It would appear AeM that your Scottish sojourn has left your mind suitably refreshed.






And sick.