Time to jerk the chicken

After his shower John went to bed and had a power nap, remembering to give the flagging Ariana a slap on the way out of the bathroom.

Waking up refreshed, he looked at his phone. It was mid-afternoon, so the Caribbean parade should be starting soon. He brushed his teeth, spitting the foam into Ariana's hair. The maid was either sleeping or ****. Not a detail that mattered to him.

Having changed, he left the room and took the elevator downstairs, where Donald and the limo were waiting.

'Let's get to that parade, shall we?'

'Very well, Sir.'

Once Donald parked one block east of the parade route, John got out of the car after ordering his driver to stay put and be ready to pick him up.

Strolling over to where his next victim was going to be, he heard drumming and trumpets. The feverish rhythm and the sight of crowds on the sidewalk, all facing the thoroughfare, put a spring in his step.

Pushing past a mousy-looking man holding a camera, he made his way to the front row. A couple of floats already made their way past his spot, but seeing all the performers marching behind them reassured him that he was in the right place at the right time.

As expected, he was witnessing an explosion of glitter, rhinestone bikinis, feathers and, most importantly, oiled-up female bodies. Most of the women were black, an overwhelming majority of them with extra junk in the trunk, and their shaking and swaying made John's head spin. These beautiful women were making a statement of pride and dignity. They reclaimed their bodies as something to be proud of, something to cherish instead of simply presenting their curves to men. They were here to show that they were pretty and desirable, but that they were also strong and independent.

John was here to teach at least one of them that's incorrect.

He always had an issue with women being comfortable in their own skin. Confidence and authority in women made him upset. He hated seeing them behave like equals to men, finding the very thought ridiculous. Thanks to the Internet, it wasn't hard for him to find plenty of like-minded men, all seething at the signs of their historical dominance diminishing, their behaviour scrutinised and their actions towards females having actual consequences. As far as him and those keyboard warriors were concerned, the world was taking a turn for the worse, emancipation rearing its ugly head. Unlike those guys in the forums, though, he had the power to change things, one **** at a time.

Churning his bigoted thoughts in his head made him angry. He was going to make sure one of these whores loses her will to live today. She will wish she had never been born with two x chromosomes, once he's done with her. He needed to make it so that even once she is out of his grip, her suffering continues. She has to never have a pleasant moment in her life again, she has to wish for release in vain, for years and years to come, she has to lose all her agency, all her pride, all her...

John noticed he was grinding his teeth so bad that his jaw started to hurt. He shook himself out of his reverie and focused on the task at hand.

The easy access to women he had been enjoying all these years had made him somewhat picky, so it took almost ten minutes until he spotted the girl he would focus all his rage on.

She was gorgeous and happy. She was the embodiment of everything he wanted to tarnish.

His victim was holding her arms out as she strutted in front of a float made to resemble a dragon, its eyes shining, its scales shades of green and purple. The colour theme was applied to the girl's body, too.

She was a tall, twenty-something dark-black girl. Her rhinestone bikini shone in the colours of the dragon behind her, her long, smooth legs, her flat tummy, her generous cleavage, her slim arms and her gorgeous face all shimmering with oil and glitter. Feathers were stuck to a string that went from the back of her bikini top to her wrists. Feathers also adorned her head, sticking out of a headband. They were two feet long, their pattern ending in round shapes reminiscent of a peacock. Her moves were erotic but not ****, her big smile exuding happiness.

This could not stand.

John expected heavy security at an event like this, and he was right. Turning to his right, he saw a cop with his hands behind his back, balancing on the balls of his feet, trying hard to look disinterested, but failing. His eyes clearly followed the jiggle of the breasts swaying in front of him.

Walking up to the policeman, John said 'Officer, can I please borrow your taser?'

'Sir, of course you cannot! Can I speak to you for a moment?' - the cop clearly thought he ran into a maniac and his body language showed it. He tensed up, turned to face John fully and reached for the walkie-talkie affixed to his left shoulder.

Unperturbed, John continued: 'I just need it so that I can **** that whore over there' - he pointed at the woman he picked.

'Oh, OK, that makes sense!' - the cop relaxed, let his arm fall to his side, unhooked the taser next to his gun and handed it over to John. 'Knock yourself out! Or rather knock her out, I should say!' - he winked as he handed over his gear.

'Thanks, I will! ' - John replied and took the weapon.

'Can you please call your colleagues and update them?

'Yeah, man, sure thing.' - the policeman reached for his radio again, keying a button. 'This is unit alpha-fiver, at the corner of Twelfth and Cromwell. Please be advised a John Doe will be **** one of the performers, using my taser. Make sure no one one interrupts him.'

'Thank you!'

John had used a taser several times before but lost his last one after shoving it up the vagina of a mother-of-three in a supermarket and leaving the woman jerking and spasming uncontrollably, because he spotted a different victim. He was going to keep this one.

He walked into the middle of the street, right in front of Feather Girl. She and the other performers surrounding her gave him a confused look, their eyes darting around for one of the many policemen, but they continued dancing, getting closer by the second.

John just stood there, hands behind his back, and waited for her to get closer.

She noticed that he had his eyes fixed on her and her smile faded. She kept dancing and stepping forward, but the effortless nature of her girations was gone.

The moment she was close enough, he lifted the taser and pointed it at her.

'Say hello to my little friend!' - he said, and pulled the trigger.

The two hooks shot out of the taser and hit the woman square in the chest. The moment they connected, current started surging through the wires attached to them and a clicking sound emanated from the weapon.

She immediately stopped her dance and her hands instinctively went to her chest as her legs gave in and she crumpled to the ground, twitching slightly.

John dropped the taser and closed the distance between them swiftly.

He towered over the incapacitated woman, the float behind her getting slowly closer. He looked down at her, her spasms slowly dying away, her eyes fixed on him, projecting pain and disbelief.

'I'm here to **** you to pieces.' - John said in a cheery tone, as he leaned down and grabbed her by the shoulders.