(Under The Hood was inspired by a story I read on a web site called Teri Grey’s place. So she deserves much of the credit.)
I don’t know why I’m telling you this story, other than my conscience prevents me from keeping it to myself any longer. I can’t explain my actions, maybe it was temporary insanity…. but I’m getting ahead of myself now.
Two years ago, I was on my way back to Chicago from a business meeting in Portland. I decided to take a tour and see some of the New England countryside. If I had time, I wanted to drive down to Pennsylvania. I heard the autumn leaves there were spectacular. Somewhere along the way I had taken a wrong turn. Like most men, I was sure I could find my way back without the use of a map. Back in Chicago, I could navigate any freeway, but out here, there were no road signs to guide me. I continued to wander aimlessly, making a turn here and there. It wasn’t long before I found myself driving down a lonely strip of blacktop bordered by a thick wall of trees. To make matters worse, I had passed the last gas station about twenty miles back and my gauge was now on empty. I finally pulled the road map out of the glove compartment, something I should have done long before. I felt like a bumbling tourist that day.
I continued to struggle with the map while half listening to a news report on the radio. I remember hearing something about another disappearance in the area. It was a woman, the third one this month. Her name was Judy… something, I can’t recall the last name. What drew my attention was that she was traveling the same route I was on, that is, before I got lost. She was described as 5′-9″, approximately 110 lbs., blue eyes with long blond hair. “Too bad,” I thought, she sounded very attractive. My attention quickly went back to deciphering the map. The reporter was describing her vehicle, a black Jeep Wrangler with Minnesota license plates, when suddenly my car engine began to sputter and stall. I immediately dropped the map and looked helplessly at my dashboard while the car coasted to a stop.
“Damn it,” I thought, “out of gas.”
I climbed out of the car and looked around for any homes nearby. All I saw was a rusty mailbox and a gravel drive that disappeared into a thicket of trees. I walked up to the mailbox and looked at it. There was no name on it, not even a street number. Judging from the weeds covering the drive, I began to suspect that I was not going to find anyone living here. But it was the only drive I could find, so I decided to check it out. I remember it was a little chilly that day. The sky was a uniform gray and the air was still thick and damp from the heavy rainstorm earlier that morning. I wrapped my coat a little tighter and continued on. I had to walk almost a half a mile before I approached a wooden gate shrouded in a tangle of weeds and vines.
It was about this time, that I first heard the noise. It sounded like some type of machinery. My hopes were running high now. I passed through the gate and continued up the drive. A slight bend in the road brought me in sight of a large old house. The place was in serious disrepair. For some reason the sight of it made me feel a little uneasy. The machine noise was coming from the direction of the garage nearby. I decided to skip the house and see if I could find anyone in the garage. As I walked up a steep grade I began rehearsing what I was going to say. The garage door was closed but the noise was definitely coming from inside. It sounded like a car engine. I walked around to the side of the building and peered into the window.
I was right about the noise, but I was not prepared for what I saw. Leaning over the open hood of the vehicle was a woman, and she appeared to be wearing a summer bikini. Most of her upper body was concealed by the hood, but my observation was unmistakable.
“Good God she must be cold!” I thought.
She seemed to be working on something near the back of the engine. What alarmed me was that she had closed the garage door, and the engine was still running! I could clearly smell the exhaust. I raced around to the front of the garage and pounded on the door. There was no answer. I tried the latch, but it was locked from the inside. Then I saw a door to the left that I hadn’t noticed before. I tested the door knob and found it unlocked. Hoping I wasn’t too late, I swung the door open and went inside. The noise of the engine was deafening. I made my way through the exhaust fumes to the front of the garage dodging various obstacles along the way.
When I reached the woman, my heart jumped. Just as I thought, she was wearing a tiny string bikini bottom that just barely concealed her tush. She was still reaching into the gaping engine compartment. Apparently she didn’t hear me enter the garage. Her long blonde hair covered her face as she leaned over the grill and parts of her body were smudged with grease. The sight of her reminded me of one of those automobile pin-up calendars so often displayed in service station garages. She was wearing black high heels, but she still had to stand on her toes in order to reach into the engine. Then I noticed an odd glint of metal on her ankle. It appeared to be some type of ankle bracelet.
I tried to announce my presence by clearing my throat, but the motor was too loud. I slowly approached her but then stopped dead in my tracks. She looked over in my direction wide eyed with panic. Her cheeks were puffed out by a red rubber ball filling her mouth and held in tightly with a black leather strap. It was then that I realized she was not working on the engine, but chained to it. Each arm was pulled to the back of the engine compartment and handcuffed to the opposite corners. Her long legs were spread wide apart and each ankle was fastened by a chain to something underneath the front bumper.
She was topless and her full round breasts were hanging down almost into the engine itself, where fan, pulley, and belts were spinning at high speed. She was stretched almost to the limit over the engine with barely enough slack in her body to arch her back and keep her breasts clear of the fast moving engine parts. Then I noticed something familiar about the vehicle she was chained to. It was a black, hardtop Jeep Wrangler with Minnesota license plates, the same one described on the radio in connection to the woman’s disappearance.
She tried to speak to me through the gag, begging me to take some action. Her large breasts swayed and dangled dangerously close the spinning fan. I saw something flash through the belts and pulleys. It appeared to be the torn remains of her bikini top but I wasn’t sure. There was a momentary ping as the fan blade clipped the bottom curve of one of her breasts. She screamed into the gag. I looked around the garage, but there seemed to be nothing at hand to cut her metal bindings. I could see the exhaust climbing to the ceiling now and the stench was overwhelming. I knew the open side door wouldn’t provide enough ventilation to eliminate the danger of asphixiation, so I had to work fast. The woman started to cough through the gag. She seemed to be losing her strength to keep herself clear of the spinning engine.
I quickly moved to the side of the jeep and reached for the door on the driver’s side but it was locked. I considered breaking the window when I noticed the door on the other side was ajar. I rushed to the other side and wedged myself in between the jeep and the wall. I pulled the door open as far as its proximity to the wall would permit and squeezed past the door. I heard another metallic ping and saw the poor woman lurch in pain again. I clambered for the key and found that someone had broken it off in the ignition. I cursed and pushed myself back out the door and slammed it shut. There was barely enough room between the vehicle and the wall for me to slide forward to the passenger side of the engine. The woman’s body was drenched in sweat and the tips of her blonde hair were singed. The heat from the engine compartment must have been unbearable. She cried as she struggled desperately with her steel bonds, not realizing that she was now pushing her nipples closer to the moving fan blade. I reached under her right armpit into the engine compartment feeling for wires. Twice I burned himself on one hot part or another. The woman’s face was streaked with tears. She was chewing at the ball gag in an effort to speak. I began grabbing at all the hoses and wires I could find. Finally there was a hissing noise and the engine choked and sputtered to a stop.
I reached along the woman’s outstretched arms to try and free her wrists, but the handcuffs were locked to the engine frame. I had to find something that would cut through the chains. There was a tool box on the work table at the opposite end of the garage, but I needed to slide behind the woman to get to it. Slowly, I wedged myself between her and the back wall. The front of my body was pressing against her round buttocks when an arousing tingle suddenly passed through my loins. The woman seemed only semi-conscious now. Her body was limp. I grasped her hips in an effort to help myself slide past her. I became almost instantly erect. I felt my penis pressing through my trousers into the cleavage between her ass cheeks. Suddenly, wave of lust overcame me. I felt myself sweep the last of her bikini down in one motion. I fought with my own pants to free myself. For one brief moment I almost had the strength to stop what I was about to do. But my erection slid perfectly between the young woman’s legs. She was already wet and slippery there.
A soft moan of protest came from her gagged mouth as I felt myself slowly penetrate her. I reached around and grasped her dangling breasts and used them as leverage to pull myself deeper inside her. She moaned again. Soon I was thrusting rhythmically into her warm, soft bent over body. She gasped weakly with each thrust. Her forehead was resting on the warm manifold and her arms hung limply against the greasy engine parts. The exhaust burned my nostrils with every deep breath. I felt myself stir and suddenly with one final thrust, I fired my hot load deep inside her helpless body.
I was shaken as I let myself slide out of her. I quickly pulled my pants back up. What had I done? Instead of saving her, I raped this poor young woman. I felt dizzy and my head began to throb. The air was poisoning my lungs and I was suddenly overcome by a desperate need to survive. I pushed past her to the garage door and fumbled with the handle. When the latch released, the door raised up by itself pulled by cables and springs. The cool air immediately flooded in and began evacuating the toxic fumes.
I stumbled outdoors and broke into a full run to the woods. I didn’t get far before I had to rest. Then the ground spun up to meet me. Everything converged into a dull muffled blackness and I passed out
I woke up an hour later in the woods. My head was still pounding. I wanted to believe that I had awoken from a bad dream, but the harsh reality crept in as I slowly stood up. Fear and shame overwhelmed my urge to go back and check on the woman. I quickly walked down the drive, not once did I look back. As I approached the road I realized I was still out of gas. I cursed myself for not stopping at that gas station. I decided to leave the car and keep walking, to were, I didn’t know. I just wanted to get far away from this place. I found my car where I had left it, but I saw something that almost made me trip in mid-step. Sitting on the hood was a red gallon container of gas. I looked around nervously but saw no one. There was a note taped to the handle of the container. It said:
“Now we both have a secret. Don’t call the police!”
I quickly filled my tank with gas, then I sat behind the wheel and, with a prayer, turned the ignition. The car engine sputtered at first, then turned over. Quickly I put it in gear and sped down the road.
I never returned there again, nor did I ever inquire about the missing woman. The truth is, I couldn’t bring myself to even try. I would like to think that she found a way to get loose, for her sake and mine.