Muto

As Jesse Cromeans lay draped across his massive leather couch, limbs haphazardly splayed about, he realized he was completely and unequivocally bored.

The lengths of time between his dalliances with the piggies were the most tedious. He knew he had to lay low for a bit between each of his recording sessions. It was always immensely satisfying to see heavily censored screenshots plastered all over the news, fearful anchorwomen reporting on his murders; though they held back details for the sake of the sensitive masses. That was why Chromeskull would send the footage to the police. They were most able to appreciate his artistic butchery and his quality cinematography. But, doing that meant he had to tread carefully, lest he spend more money than he’d like covering his tracks.

So, Chromeskull was on “vacation” at the request of Spann, his secretary, and Preston, his delightfully insecure little minion, while the police burnt themselves out on dead ends from their most recent care package. He was set up in one of his many residences sprinkled through the southeast, surrounded by his impeccably decorated home of modern black leather and chrome. Jesse had been rewatching the original tapes of his most recent Birmingham, rewinding and replaying his favorite moments. Every now and again he’d give himself a mental pat on the back for a great angle, or a fun way to make the piggies squeal. But he could only watch for so long before the novelty wore off, and the itch to go out and start anew grew.

He was Chromeskull; he always had the final say no matter what. Spann and Preston could never tell him to do anything. But the endless bitching he’d hear from his employees stayed his hand just enough to reconsider. The headache from their whining or their endless instant message pings and video call requests to figure out where he’d gone wasn’t worth it. Instead, he would have to bide his time until Spann did her research and assured him the cases had gone cold. Then he could don his mask, pick up his suitcase and get to work.

Now fully sunken into the couch, his chin smushed into his chest, Jesse pushed himself up to sit and grab his laptop and USB drive from the nearby coffee table. If he couldn’t “work”, he could at least sort through his emails. His machine specifically tailored to his need for privacy and security, Jesse had to unlock his portable drive with his thumbprint before plugging it in and turning on his computer; without it, his laptop would be an unusable brick with no data whatsoever. He sipped his coffee as his operating system booted, entering his passwords until he came to his desktop.

Entering passwords for a few more prompts finally brought him into his encrypted work email, and he began the soothing task of sorting all of his unread mail. Some were forwarded from potential buyers, requesting specific torture methods or targets for Chromeskulls next session; he’d read those a few days before he was slated to head out to get ideas. Others were from Spann, keeping Jesse up to date on the particulars of the business and other operations; those he checked often. Preston's emails went into a folder labeled “Bitch Boy”; he’d read those if he needed a chuckle.

Spann’s emails were normal for her; numbers, investigation statuses, pleas for him to kindly stay on vacation until being given the green light, and potential new business avenues. There was only a lone email containing the latter, and the subject line caught his eye.

[Business Opportunities: Something fun to keep you entertained.]

How… cute of Spann to be so thoughtful. Jesse opened the mail to give it a glance.

“Good morning Sir,

Hope you’re not getting too restless on your getaway. I was made aware of a new prospect you might be interested in. We’ve found that individuals are beginning to stream their footage in real-time, rather than upload pre-recorded video. This also allows for audience participation. I thought it could be prudent to explore this as an up-and-coming venture. You do enjoy cinematography, after all.

I’ve linked some examples. Don’t have too much fun, Sir. -S”

The rest of the body of the email were links, their garbled alpha-numerical strings ending in .onion obviously meant for his Tor browser. It was the preferred and recommended way to access the dark web, where anyone could operate with enough privacy to offer impunity. Any black market service you could think of was available if you knew where to look, and were smart enough to not get scammed. Jesse used it in his business quite often; footage for clients was uploaded to various hosting links and sometimes payment was routed through obscured channels.

Jesse felt almost giddy at the prospect of finding something interesting, but tempered his enthusiasm with past experience. A vast majority of people were only brave enough to upload still images of the kind of content he craved, or poor quality clips of less than a minute to help keep their identities secret. Most of it he’d seen before, having scoured the links his team had acquired for him. Performing live was even riskier the more Jesse thought about it; who had balls big enough to pull off such a thing?

He made a mental note to consider the prospect, just to prove that he could.

Combing through the links showed that most of them were already down. It was disappointing, but it was the nature of the beast. Links would be active for a short burst of time, then be removed when the owner's paranoia got the best of them, or the user got what they needed. Blank page after blank page made Jesse tap a bit more forcefully on the touchpad of his laptop, annoyed that Spann had wasted his time with a wild goose chase, until the final link bore a screen that wasn’t inactive.

A screeching wail blasted through the speakers of Jesse’s laptop, almost making him jump. A video window showed him a man strapped down to a long metal table, completely nude. In the lower corner of the frame was another angle of the same man; a closeup of his face. His pupils were completely contracted, eyes wild as they darted around the stark room. Next to the main table were smaller ones, covered neatly in an array of surgical implements that glimmered under the harsh light that shone on the entire display.

There was an internet relay chat box next to the video stream, with a few usernames intermittently posting their thoughts and commentary.

|<VEINSSS> WE GOT ANOTHER ONE BOYS!!!

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|Oddnmsor76 has entered the chat

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|<Oddnmsor76> I didn’t miss anything did I?

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|<Big~Wiggly> @Oddnmsor76 No she hasn’t started yet.

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|A suspicious egg has entered the chat

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|<A suspicious egg> hehe smol pp

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|<Mommy_Milkers> MISS MORBID PLEASE STEP ON ME

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|<Mommy_Milkers>YOU CAN PLAY WITH MY ORGANS PLEASE

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|Mommy_Milkers has donated $6.90

What was this? He wasn’t sure if he would be able to tolerate the stupidity of a live chat, but the ability to receive cash donations was definitely appealing. Jesse's most prominent thought, however, was wondering who she was that they had referred to.

The title bar at the top of the page reinforced the name used in the chat.

☆☆~Miss Morbid’s Operating Room ~☆☆

I love a man with functioning organs~♥

Jesse’s brow rose with interest. Live surgery? On an unwilling participant? Now that was something he could appreciate. He set his laptop on the table in front of him, crossing his legs as he sipped at his morning coffee. The man on screen briefly thrashed against his restraints, but the thick bindings around his limbs, hips, and torso held him securely in place until he tuckered himself out. He breathed heavily, panting and whimpering.

“What the fuck… What the fuck?!” The man began to sob.

Men weren’t really Chromeskull’s modus operandi, but if these people got their rocks off on it then who was he to judge?

Another voice rang from off-screen, soothing and musical.

“Good morning everyone! How are we all doing?”

The chat exploded.

|<Big~Wiggly> There she is

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|NonSexualUrges has entered the chat

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|<NonSexualUrges> Hello!!!

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|<Oddnmsor76> Good morning!

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|<A suspicious egg> lol baby needs a tissue

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|<VEINSSS> LICK HIS TEARS

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|4365733567 has entered the chat

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|<4365733567> ♥♥♥ Yo beautiful ♥♥♥

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|Mommy_Milkers has donated $6.90

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|<Mommy_Milkers> MY QUEEN

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|XxXDeathNinjaXxX has entered the chat

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|<XxXDeathNinjaXxX> Damn that dude’s fucked

A voluptuous figure walked into frame, snapping two black surgical gloves over her hands. Her mouth was covered in a matching black surgical mask, and her eyes were hidden behind a pair of thick, dark goggles. Suddenly the goggles flickered to life, red LEDs forming two large circles to stare directly into the camera. She strutted in front of the table to provide the audience with a full view of herself, long legs on display in her sharp heels, one peeking out of the slit up the side of her leather pencil skirt. Her white blouse was rolled up by the sleeves to her elbows and unbuttoned tantalizingly low to show off her other assets. And a wild mob of curly, red hair was piled atop her head.

Jesse sat forward a bit.

“Are you all ready for a little bit of incredibly invasive surgery?”

Her audience cheered with a resounding yes, intermixed with more donations and lewd outbursts. Jesse was starting to understand the appeal a lot better, murder and mutilation aside.

Behind her, the man began to beg. “Please… Please don’t do this… I won’t tell anybody I promise!”

Miss Morbid put her hand to her ear and turned, her LED eyes following with the direction. “Hmm?” With a click from a small remote picked up from one of the tables, the camera angle changed, zooming in on the man’s upper body as the host’s eyes turned to hearts. She set the remote down, her hands running through the man’s hair and along his jaw.

“Oh honey, you don’t want to be here, do you?” She cooed.

He shook his head. “N-No…”

She pushed herself closer to the man, cradling his head against her plush chest.

“You poor little thing… I couldn’t care less what you want.”

The man froze. Even his breathing stopped. Miss Morbid’s voice fell into a low purr as her gentle grasp on his face tightened, squeezing his cheeks together.

“You’re here,” she began. “...because right now you are the unluckiest man on the planet. I’m going to do horrible, unspeakable things to you. Things that were banned by the Geneva Conventions. No one is coming to help you. No one is coming to save you. In fact, other people are going to watch, because they want to see it too.”

She had Jesse’s undivided attention now. The realization on her victim's face was absolutely delicious, and he could respect that she was able to draw it out. Chromeskull highly enjoyed doing the same exact thing to his little piggies, recording it for posterity so he could enjoy the suffering at any time. Jesse already felt his body reacting, his blood running hotter. A familiar warmth grew in the pit of his stomach. But the sensation wasn’t unusual for him, and went ignored just as it had countless times before.

Beginning to scream and thrash again, Miss Morbid let him go with an amused shrug. It was hard to hear her over his screeching.

“Oh well! The world isn’t the land of sunshine and rainbows we’re led to believe it is. We suffer until we die! You’re actually lucky you get to die before 30! So why don’t we get started before you pass out?”

The stream switched to an overhead view as she picked up her first tool of the morning, a large #10 blade scalpel. Jesse had to note that the angle offered an unprecedented view down her cleavage, and resulted in larger donations. Miss Morbid unfastened the thick strap over his torso and aimed her scalpel pointedly.

“Here we go! It’ll be a lot worse if you keep thrashing, so please go for it!”

Before the man could even process what she’d said and settle, Miss Morbid plunged the blade into his flesh. He screamed as she made a long incision in his chest, crimson pouring from the wound. She was unperturbed, placing the scalpel down as she reached for a pair of curved mayo scissors to begin cutting through the exposed fascia.

Her victim was howling like a dying animal, hands and feet flexing and twisting through the agony of still being awake.

“Look at you go champ!” She taunted. “You didn’t pass out! You get a lollipop when this is over, I promise!”

The scissors discarded on the quickly bloodying tray, she took a moment to lean over and check her computer screen, giggling at what she read there.

“Chat, you’re too sweet, and smart too! You guessed it; we’re doing a little open-heart surgery!”

Jesse tilted his head, eyeing the chatbox again. So she did pay attention to it, and see what people had to say. She read off the usernames she saw with bubbly cheer, greeting them and thanking them for the backlog of donations. As she did so more poured in, spurred on by her interaction. They were all small amounts, but enough of them would pile up into a nice little sum for a day’s work.

When she was satisfied with, or tired of the chat, she focused her attention back on her subject. Miss Morbid hooked the man up via IV to a fresh bag of blood, and stuck a suction tip inside his newly created cavity. Every movement she made was energized and bouncy, alerting Jesse to his growing stiffness.

“Gotta see what I’m doing! Can’t accidentally nick something important and put you out of your misery. That’s no fun.”

A pair of retractors were used to spread the man’s chest apart, each ratcheting of the equipment made him twinge and cry out. Miss Morbid’s goal was in clear view now; a rapidly beating heart trapped like a bird in a cage behind the man's ribs. His lungs retracted and expanded as well, and it was interesting to see how they moved as he screamed.

Pausing to click another button on her remote, a top-down view was placed on the opposite corner of the screen. The view then began to slowly transition every minute or so, as she leaned into the man with a bonesaw, cutting through his breastbone.

As Jesse listened to the whirr of metal against bone, the now hoarse screaming, and observed every curated angle of this woman’s playtime, he concluded he hadn’t watched something so enjoyable in a long while. He enjoyed beautiful women; their fear, the look on their faces when their hopelessness set in, their dismembered bodies decorating a coffin. But he never could have imagined that reversing it, watching a woman perform such sadistic acts on others, could intrigue him so. Even the women that worked for him weren’t nearly as gorgeously brutal as this Miss Morbid.

Jesse sat forward and grabbed his laptop, clicking on the chatbox. He was prompted to create a username. His was as easy as breathing to enter.

|Chromeskull has entered the chat

A loud chime sounded on the stream’s end, Miss Morbid pausing as she used her hands to pry apart the man’s rib cage. She glanced up at her monitor, wiping her hands off quickly on a towel before stepping in front of her keyboard.

|<4365733567>New Meat! ♥♥♥

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|<Mommy_Milkers> NOO GO AWAY NEW MEAT

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|<Oddnmsor76>New Meat!

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|<XxXDeathNinjaXxX>New Meat

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|<VEINSSS>NEW MEAT

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|<A suspicious egg>new meat

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|<Big~Wiggly>New Meat!

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|<NonSexualUrges>New Meat!!!

Their greeting didn’t interest him. Jesse waited, the notification hovering that she was actively typing.

|[◉"]<Miss Morbid> Welcome to your first Miss Morbid stream, Chromeskull! ~♥ I’d say hello to you |properly, but this one’s a screamer! Please, sit back and enjoy the operation! (*○ ’3`)★+ﾟ

To emphasize her greeting she bent towards the camera and graced him with a wave, curling her fingers sensually to then blow him a kiss through her mask, her LED eyes closing cutely. The closeup of her breasts made his now full erection throb with want.

Jesse chuckled.

|<Chromeskull> Already am.

She clapped her bloodied hands together excitedly, then pranced back over to the operating table. Miss Morbid yanked the man’s head off the table by his ear, scolding him as he whimpered.

“You’re making it impossible to talk to chat! Shouldn’t you be more considerate of your surgeon?”

Dropping his head as quickly as she picked it up, she reached into his exposed organs to grab and squeeze the tissue of his right lung. The man sputtered and gasped, his oxygen supply now cut in half as his lung was unable to expand. Miss Morbid zoomed in on the point of contact, stressing her words with little shakes of her fist.

“You’ve been using these damn things all night! Give them a rest won’t you?”

When she released him he gulped in air, coughing and devolving back into a weeping wretch.

“P-Please…” His voice was croaking, broken. “Just.. d-do it already… Kill me…”

Miss Morbid laughed, pushing his sweat-soaked hair from his brow. “You’re not a very good listener, are you?” Her fingers petted through his hair, scratching along his scalp. “Not a thought in that pretty little head.”

She turned to the camera, holding her arms out dramatically once they’d left his skull. “What do you say, chat? Should we let this miserable excuse for a patient go?”

The chat relay sped by, the majority in agreement. Once the influx had passed, Jesse thought he would add his two cents.

|<Chromeskull> Kiss the little piggy goodbye.

Her LED eyes widened, sparkling bright.

“Ooh~! What a great suggestion, Chromeskull! To welcome you to our practice, this one’s just for you!”

Jesse sat rigid, his hands white-knuckled at the edges of the couch cushions. An obvious wet patch had formed through his uncharacteristically simple black sweatpants, precum smearing inside of the cotton barrier in between.

Miss Morbid switched to a side angle, her body now in profile as she hiked herself atop the operation table. She sat just above the man’s hips, her legs splayed to either side and her skirt hiking up to show more skin. The chat was going crazy and Jesse could barely keep up with the messages pouring in. Not that he was trying to; his eyes were on the pair of scissors in her grasp. She dove inside, one hand maneuvering his heart as the other severed every vein and artery leading to it. The victim's cries turned to gurgles as the organ was ripped from his body, Miss Morbid dangling her prize in the air before setting it aside.

But before he could expire, before the last of the light left his eyes she leaned down, unhooking the side of her surgical mask. It fell towards the camera so no one could see her face, but it was obvious how she closed her eyes, how her head turned, how her jaw moved and how she moaned as she kissed the man with as much passion as she’d torn out his heart. Her posture helped her skirt ride up just enough that Jesse could spy the black lace thong hugging the curve of her ass. The last shot of the man's expression was of his eyes, dull with death, staring straight up.

It was enough to choke a gasp from his throat, because Jesse came then and there.

Miss Morbid affixed her mask before sitting upright. Her chest heaved as she rested her bloody hand upon it, and Jesse’s heaved in tandem as he lifted his waistband to eye the mess in his pants, bringing him to the realization that he’d just cum.

“Hmmm… how was that, Chromeskull? Was it as good for you as it was for me?”

His shaky fingers couldn’t type fast enough.

|<Chromeskull> Fucking beautiful.

Her head lazily turned toward her monitor, a few of her red curls now loose from her messy bun.

“I’m glad,” she hummed. “Swing by for another stream, won’t you? The schedules in the link below. And you regulars too. I’m afraid today’s surgery was another failure; one more to add to my record. I’ve got quite the mess to clean up and sterilize, so I’d better get started. See you all next time.”

The video feed turned black, then displayed an offline message. The rest of the denizens of the chat petered out, until no one was left but Jesse.

He flopped back against the couch cushions, catching his breath as he smoothed a hand over his head. This woman was something else entirely, and that something was right up his alley. Jesse read over the schedule listed in the link provided under the stream, and copied it over to every device that could send him a reminder. He attached the schedule in a reply to the email that had enlightened him in the first place, marking it as urgent so Spann wouldn’t give him the runaround. He highlighted and underlined the working link for good measure.

[RE: Business Opportunities: Something fun to keep you entertained.]