It was supposed to be a good time. Trixie Horn, my bride-to-be, set it all up with help from Chopper and Chester Mann. What it turned into was the most horrifying experience of my life. And that is saying something. I turned into a giant bear to defend Berlin against the barbarians who were invading us from the east and the west in 1945.
Trixie has decided we are getting married, and so they were throwing me a stag party. This began fine enough, with booze, strippers, and stories about our pasts. One of the guests, Mr. Larry Damley III, who is in his eighties, told us about how one of the workers at his factory had his fingers cut off by a malfunctioning machine, was going to sue him, and Larry Damley III put a hit out on him and now the guy is at the bottom of the Erie. These are serious, accomplished men at my stag party. I met a man well over a hundred who worked with my adoptive father in the camps he supervised back during the war. Fine people.
Things were pretty great and then there was a second wave of strippers. We'd traumatized the first wave with the things we did and said and no one expected a second wave.
This wave of strippers had exceptionally beautiful bodies, but they were all wearing the head of a stag on top of their head. By that, I mean it was like one of those trophy deer heads on some true blue American's wall, pulled completely over someone's head so it looks like a stag with a rocking babe body. Very disconcerting kind of affair. And they were all doing gyrations of some kind. All kinds of gyrating was going on by these hot stag bitches. This was, of course, alarming.
Walter Murray, who was blamed for drowning all three of his children during a camping trip simply because he held them underwater for far too long, was really getting into gyrating with one of the hot stag bitches. I didn't know what to say. I was beside myself, literally and figuratively. The stag head lowered its mighty jaw and bit deeply into Good Ole Walt's throat, tearing it to shreds, which the stag lady sucked into her mouth like pulled pork as its cold, dead eyes stared right at me.
Floyd Hamburger, who invented both the hamburger and the casting couch, saw what was going on and tried to intervene. For his actions, another stag head bit clean through his arm, as stags often do in the wild. However, in the wild a stag will only attack if you are alone. These stags were hunting in a pack, and they had hot female human bodies. And they were now completely naked (but still with stag heads).
"All humans against the wall," barked out the lead stag head, whose tits were amazing.
Despite our accomplishments, and our strong sense of manliness, we all got up against the wall at that point. We were unarmed and aroused, so we had no defense against the viciousness of the stag heads. Together, we resolved to follow their instructions and hope that we could get out of the party in one piece, unlike Floyd and Old Walt. They had us empty our pockets, which was embarrassing because a lot of the guys had brought condoms and some had expired in the 1970s. You could tell just from the state of the packaging.
"Now you wait for lecture," barked the lead stag head as she tweaked her right nipple a little bit.
I was personally shocked when Jonathan Ticklebutt walked in through the room's only door with a smile on his face. Then it dawned on me. These were no ordinary strippers with stag heads. This was part of the centaur vanguard, coming ahead of the full scale elven invasion. Jonathan Ticklebutt, who has a really beautiful face and owns an electric home organ (which I bought him for Christmas this past season), knew he had us.
Raymond "Blackheart" Jones stepped out of line. He'd had enough at that point. This is a man who, when losing money in his widget manufacturing business in the 1980s, burned his plant down for the insurance money after first making sure all 4,000 of his employees were inside at the time. When he showed me the figures as far as what he'd need to pay in pensions and so forth, his genius was revealed, and he was never adverse to talking to people about sipping cognac and listening to his employees, those people he owned and had the right to do anything he wanted with him, burn. Really delightful stuff. It took Jonathan Ticklebutt all of eight seconds to completely gut him and leave him as a pile of random table meats on the floor of the party room.
"No more backtalk," snapped the lead stag.
"The great elven mystic Gadzooks has decided the fate of this world. I am here as her appointed representative, as well as being a representative of the Elven Provisional Government of the Human Dimension," announced Jonathan Ticklebutt with a self-satisfied grin on his extremely gorgeous face. "Conti," he said, referring to the lead stag head, "demonstrate for our friends here the true nature of our cruelty."
Conti turned toward Tucker Wells, one of our company that I didn't know much about, and drove a silver spear through his midsection, twisting it so that his guts unceremoniously poured out onto the floor while he suffered in agony, unable to die.
"As it was, as it will be from this point forward," Jonathan Ticklebutt announced in triump. "Split the motherfucker in half, Conti, but keep him alive."
"NO!" I screamed out. "That is horrifying!"
Conti's perfectly shaped breasts and her well-developed abs mesmerized me as she used her silver spear to slice clean through Tucker Wells at the waist. The two halves of him fell onto the floor and began moving about independently. His mouth kept saying, "Some water... some water..." but the rest of us just laughed and kicked him in the face for fun. When his jaw shattered, we were all beside ourselves with glee because he could not die.
At this point, Lenny, one of the other stag heads came over and gave me a lap dance. This was a welcome change of pace from the ongoing proceedings as described above. Her beautiful, sexy body writhed to the music and she was grinding into my lap. Then it happened. A very small set of male genitals came out of her woman parts down below and formed itself in our dimension. Lenny began cackling and guffawing. I was beside myself. It was small, like a baby, hairless and pink, as if it were not fully created yet. It was upsetting. And then it receeded. I was completely beside myself now.
"It is time for you to get addicted to heroin," Lenny told me as she ran her delicate human fingers through my hair as her dead stag eyes stared through me. "I will prepare enough for us to both get a fix."
"You are probably right. It is time," I told her as I watched Chopper being nailed to a wall by three stag hotties as they ate his eyes out of his skull using just their long, powerful stag tongues.
"He will be returned to you, but in a remarkably different format," Lenny explained to me in regards to my oldest friend Chopper. She dismounted me and got a little leather sack, from which she got a baggy, a metal spoon, and a needle. "We will inject this product now, Friend Behr."
"Yes, we will," I told her as I watched Chopper's arms being cut off with a laser knife and then fused back onto his body, but on the wrong sides.
"Just a different format, like an upgrade from VHS to DVD," Lenny explained as she put the spoon over a flame. "Everything will be okay soon. The centaur vanguard has arrived. The full elven invasion is coming."
"Yes, shoot me up. Shoot me up now, beautiful stag lady..."