Wrong Storm Cellar

[HouseOfTease]

Coeds on the road across the great plains encounter a tornado on a lonely road and pull off the road, running to a nearby storm cellar and clambering down inside. Like one of the Saw movies I see previews for, except that instead of the danger of getting sawn, the danger is more of getting tongue-teased to feverish insanity by whatever or whoever they meet in that cellar.

 

[Hypoxia]

Merri and Mindy, coeds at Kansas State U, are rolling across rural Pottawatomie County past the Tuttle Lake area, returning to Aggieville (the university district in Manhattan Kansas) from Merri's family farm near the Nebraska state line. Merri drives the restored creamy-white 1969 Chevy long-bed step-side pickup (with the straight-six 250 engine and a compound-low transaxle) her father gave her. They chatter. Then the sky turns black and a monster funnel cloud heads their way, skirting the edge of the low Flint Hills west of them. Oh shit!

Merri sees a nearby farmstead with a barn and silo. All Kansas farmhouses have storm cellars, of course. She drives up next to the house and spies the outside cellar doors. They neither notice nor care if the barn is filled with vehicles. They dash to the doors, pry them open, and descend into safety. What do they find down there?

* The farm family, who welcome them with hot cocoa laced with bourbon.
* A reclusive photographer and his studio and darkroom space underground.
* An outlaw motorcycle gang holding a Tea Party meeting, with slideshow.
* A crowd of incestuous mutants going at it -- the intruders aren't noticed.
* Tentacle monsters dwelling in a spring-fed pool under the plain farmhouse.
* The practice space of a formerly well-known hair-metal band from the 80s.
* A mad scientist's laboratory filled with strange devices and/or creatures.
* Pagan mages busily summing demons, tornadoes, and crop-blight pests.
* A portal to another dimension, station in an interstellar transport network.
* A radical womyn's group locked into a 19-person oral-genital daisychain.
* Like the above but it's a couple dozen gay and bi farm guys and ranchers.
* The secret access to an underground USAF nuclear missile base. Oops.

 

[dale124]

Merri and Mindy, coeds at Kansas State U, are rolling across rural Pottawatomie County past the Tuttle Lake area, returning to Aggieville (the university district in Manhattan Kansas) from Merri's family farm near the Nebraska state line. Merri drives the restored creamy-white 1969 Chevy long-bed step-side pickup (with the straight-six 250 engine and a compound-low transaxle) her father gave her. They chatter. Then the sky turns black and a monster funnel cloud heads their way, skirting the edge of the low Flint Hills west of them. Oh shit!

Merri sees a nearby farmstead with a barn and silo. All Kansas farmhouses have storm cellars, of course. She drives up next to the house and spies the outside cellar doors. They neither notice nor care if the barn is filled with vehicles. They dash to the doors, pry them open, and descend into safety. What do they find down there?

* The farm family, who welcome them with hot cocoa laced with bourbon.
* A reclusive photographer and his studio and darkroom space underground.
* An outlaw motorcycle gang holding a Tea Party meeting, with slideshow.
* A crowd of incestuous mutants going at it -- the intruders aren't noticed.
* Tentacle monsters dwelling in a spring-fed pool under the plain farmhouse.
* The practice space of a formerly well-known hair-metal band from the 80s.
* A mad scientist's laboratory filled with strange devices and/or creatures.
* Pagan mages busily summing demons, tornadoes, and crop-blight pests.
* A portal to another dimension, station in an interstellar transport network.
* A radical womyn's group locked into a 19-person oral-genital daisychain.
* Like the above but it's a couple dozen gay and bi farm guys and ranchers.
* The secret access to an underground USAF nuclear missile base. Oops.

I like the poor lonely "tentacle monsters dwelling in a spring-fed pool under the plain farmhouse". They haven't had visitors in so long. At least, not since the last tornado to come thru the neighborhood.

But then, I also like the "reclusive photographer and his studio and darkroom space underground". He does kinky photos, but it's so hard to find models willing to do that kind of work in Kansas. Add a tornado, though, and models are pounding on his storm shelter door.

 

[Hypoxia]

I like the poor lonely "tentacle monsters dwelling in a spring-fed pool under the plain farmhouse". They haven't had visitors in so long. At least, not since the last tornado to come thru the neighborhood.

But then, I also like the "reclusive photographer and his studio and darkroom space underground". He does kinky photos, but it's so hard to find models willing to do that kind of work in Kansas. Add a tornado, though, and models are pounding on his storm shelter door.

Nobody knows what really goes in those tornado shelters. I expect the worst: political gatherings, and mad scientists, pervert artists, and maybe revived dinosaurs. Cue the velociraptoraars.

 

[Sean Renaud]

There might be a Lazerceratops!

Not sure why you started with "Like Saw" since that's nothing like any of the Saw movies I saw and. . .I only saw 5 but they almost always start in the trap and we find later they are generally snatched up, no traps for catching.

See once you get my head in the horror genre I go straight sexy "The Hills Have Eyes here, complete with people dying off bit by bit as they try to escape their fates.

 

[Sean Renaud]

More in line with what you probably had in mind I think this might be one of those times when flipping the genders might be a lot more fun. You've got a pair of Marines driving home (blah blah, we get paid travel expense, so if you can find guys to drive cross country with you you can not only save money, you can MAKE it. Plus you essentially get "time off" because they don't expect you to drive across the nation in three hours. Besides it needn't be that drastic.), tornado hits. These are (insert state that doesn't have those) so they end up finding a shelter with some young ladies who maybe are staying out until the "last minute" because there are always idiots who are on the road for these things. (I don't have those in Cali but I assume there is always that guy who thinks he can make it home and turns out to be wrong.)

Now here the ladies end up taking advantage. For them this is a routine storm (Google says we have 1000 a year) so I imagine there must be a variety that are bad enough to take cover from just in case, but that aren't really gonna do much more than leave a mess on your yard. But the Marines don't know this. Suddenly they have these young supple women who desperately need to "protected." Everytime one of them decides to peek out to see if it's over and search for survivors because they've go to help if they can they are dragged back in because it's not safe out there an who will protect them!

 

[Kantarii]

I'm gonna have to make a mental note to look down into the hole I'm about to jump in before I kiss my ass goodbye in a tornado. Good Lord, Alice didn't have this kind of dilemma with the rabbit hole and wonderland. I bet that shit was actually a short cut to the Wizard of Oz.... I'm off to see the wizard......I'm melting. Melting! Yup, we're not in Kansas anymore,Kantarii


<busy kissing my ass goodbye

 

[Hussar73]

Coeds on the road across the great plains encounter a tornado on a lonely road and pull off the road, running to a nearby storm cellar and clambering down inside. Like one of the Saw movies I see previews for, except that instead of the danger of getting sawn, the danger is more of getting tongue-teased to feverish insanity by whatever or whoever they meet in that cellar.

Warmal Colding is happening. Two koeds from Kollege U and their First Team All-American football hero boyfriends have been spending the weekend in an isolated cabin having the usual moresomes and trading partners in porno-grade sex sessions that last for nearly 12 hours at a time.

They turn on the radio and discover that all of Nebraska (they are Cornhuckers) is under siege from rampaging glaciers and vicious drought. The two girls flee in their cheerleading outfits, minus underwear, as their boyfriends fight a hopeless rearguard action against rising sea levels, water lapping at their thighs.

They race across the fruited plains, pursued by tornadoes, hurricanes, floods and polar bears, when they find the underground shelter. As they clamber awkwardly into the shelter, buttons pop off their sweaters and their golden hair is wind-blown from an air duct.

As they climb down the ladder into the interior, which is softly lit by candles and contains two enormous four-poster beds. Barry Manilow, Marvin Gaye and Barry White music is piped in from speakers cleverly hidden in the decorative ferns.

There they find, not the needle dicks of the varsity football them they had been cheerfully servicing nightly for the last two months, but the huge schlongs of the Los Angeles Rams of Anaheim professional football team and the willing, eager lips and tongues of their cheerleaders, the Embraceable Ewes.

 

[Hypoxia]

Sounds good. How does it end?

 

[Hussar73]

Sounds good. How does it end?

How a storm shelter became a mob-financed bordello.
Inside the two girls who started it all.
Scene described as "orgtastic".
Report: girls all "beer commercial girlfriend quality".

SLUDGEREPORT​

COED SEX RING INVESTIGATION EXPANDS!

____________________

HUNDREDS OF KOLLEGE U SORORITY GIRLS, CHEERLEADERS INVOLVED!

_________________

Johns Include Politicians, Professional Athletes, Prominent Public Figures​

_______________​

FEMA Declares Bio-Hazard Emergency
shelter "awash in seminal fluids"​

 

[Hypoxia]

FEMA Declares Bio-Hazard Emergency
shelter "awash in seminal fluids"​

As well it should be.

Alternative: All the usual players take shelter in the the shelter. A monster tornado or three pass right overhead, obliterating the house and the countryside. And WW3 occurred whilst they sheltered and fucked. ICBMs flew and blew The players emerge into an atomic dusk, everything around them devastated, nuke-blasted cities smoking on the horizon, yada yada. The must start a new civilization. That requires babies. Resume fucking, kids.

 

[Hussar73]

As well it should be.

Alternative: All the usual players take shelter in the the shelter. A monster tornado or three pass right overhead, obliterating the house and the countryside. And WW3 occurred whilst they sheltered and fucked. ICBMs flew and blew The players emerge into an atomic dusk, everything around them devastated, nuke-blasted cities smoking on the horizon, yada yada. The must start a new civilization. That requires babies. Resume fucking, kids.

basically, a sequel. Son of Dr. Strangelove where the ratio of 10 women for every man is put to good use.

 

[Hypoxia]

basically, a sequel. Son of Dr. Strangelove where the ratio of 10 women for every man is put to good use.

How to get there? A male crew chief is overseeing a dozen or so female field workers tending crops on a Kansas farm. Tornado alert sounds. All rush to the shelter under the nearby farmhouse (the farm family are elsewhere at the time). The surface world is devastated. All that are left are one guy and a dozen sinewy women, likely immigrants. How this plays out depends on their personal quirks, yes? Lots of room for personality clashes here. Was he an arrogant boss who must learn humility? Was he a considerate boss whom the women compete for? Does he encourage them to go girl-on-girl while he fucks others? Or is he gay?

 

[Hussar73]

How to get there? A male crew chief is overseeing a dozen or so female field workers tending crops on a Kansas farm. Tornado alert sounds. All rush to the shelter under the nearby farmhouse (the farm family are elsewhere at the time). The surface world is devastated. All that are left are one guy and a dozen sinewy women, likely immigrants. How this plays out depends on their personal quirks, yes? Lots of room for personality clashes here. Was he an arrogant boss who must learn humility? Was he a considerate boss whom the women compete for? Does he encourage them to go girl-on-girl while he fucks others? Or is he gay?

in Strangelove, the women are selected for looks.

in this thread's iteration, they are conveniently sorority chicks, cheerleaders, teaching assistants, resident advisers, possibly younger tenured milf-grade professors.

as for your idea, we assume these are forest peasants from Norway or Sweden. although sinewy and speak broken English with a Nordic accent, they can be made to work out on treadmills or fattened up on the occasional visitor.

daily attire would be traditional farmworker: short shorts or skirts and bare midriff.

the arrogant boss would withhold his throbbing manhood from women who do not meet current values, giving them an incentive to conform to spec. girl/girl would be encouraged, but only as an experiment and only if the boss watches.

I think this makes sense.

 

[Hypoxia]

as for your idea, we assume these are forest peasants from Norway or Sweden. although sinewy and speak broken English with a Nordic accent, they can be made to work out on treadmills or fattened up on the occasional visitor.

daily attire would be traditional farmworker: short shorts or skirts and bare midriff.

the arrogant boss would withhold his throbbing manhood from women who do not meet current values, giving them an incentive to conform to spec. girl/girl would be encouraged, but only as an experiment and only if the boss watches.

I think this makes sense.

That Kansas is in a different universe. Here, they're all Latinas and Indios from the Mayan world. Some don't even speak Spanish, let alone Anglish. The workers know only enough command language to follow orders from the Saxon bossman. Now that the farm is gone, why bother following orders? He quickly learns to adapt to their group culture and its incongruities -- not a pecking order, but a web of push-pull, of alliances and subtle competitions.

There's an old story. Two bulls, one young, one old, stroll across the prairie and step up a hillside. Below, they see a corral filled with cows.

The young bull starts huffing and puffing. "Look at them cows there! Let's run down and jump the fence and fuck one of-em!"

The old bull shakes his head. "No, boy, not that. Let's mosey on down there, and push the gate open and go inside, and chat with the girls. Then we'll fuck-em ALL!"

Bossman learns that arrogance doesn't get him laid.

 

[Hussar73]

That Kansas is in a different universe. Here, they're all Latinas and Indios from the Mayan world. Some don't even speak Spanish, let alone Anglish. The workers know only enough command language to follow orders from the Saxon bossman. Now that the farm is gone, why bother following orders? He quickly learns to adapt to their group culture and its incongruities -- not a pecking order, but a web of push-pull, of alliances and subtle competitions.

There's an old story. Two bulls, one young, one old, stroll across the prairie and step up a hillside. Below, they see a corral filled with cows.

The young bull starts huffing and puffing. "Look at them cows there! Let's run down and jump the fence and fuck one of-em!"

The old bull shakes his head. "No, boy, not that. Let's mosey on down there, and push the gate open and go inside, and chat with the girls. Then we'll fuck-em ALL!"

Bossman learns that arrogance doesn't get him laid.

MacAlewulf the Knife soon realized that it was easier to catch flies with mead rather than trying to pin them down with his pocket pig-sticker. He also soon figured out that wearing furs under the Ka-nsas summer sun wasn't long term dress solution.

Eventually his English-pale skin had acquired the same deep bronze color of his amazonian-grade workers. That, combined with he gentler approach to bossmanning, resulted in many unexpected days off for the now deeply satisfied farmers.

 

[Hypoxia]

MacAlewulf the Knife soon realized that it was easier to catch flies with mead rather than trying to pin them down with his pocket pig-sticker. He also soon figured out that wearing furs under the Ka-nsas summer sun wasn't long term dress solution.

Eventually his English-pale skin had acquired the same deep bronze color of his amazonian-grade workers. That, combined with he gentler approach to bossmanning, resulted in many unexpected days off for the now deeply satisfied farmers.

Then the New Madrid Fault cuts loose with a 9.5 quake felt from the ruins of Denver to the ruins of Baltimore, shaking down all human structures in the MidWest (including nearby Kansas) and also shaking aircrews out of the surviving ICBM silos. For some reason, all these shaken, pale, uniformed men and women wander toward MacAlewulf's farm. How can he peacefully and safely integrate them into his little community without hanging too many of the men? I foresee a survival-lotto game...

 

[Hussar73]

Then the New Madrid Fault cuts loose with a 9.5 quake felt from the ruins of Denver to the ruins of Baltimore, shaking down all human structures in the MidWest (including nearby Kansas) and also shaking aircrews out of the surviving ICBM silos. For some reason, all these shaken, pale, uniformed men and women wander toward MacAlewulf's farm. How can he peacefully and safely integrate them into his little community without hanging too many of the men? I foresee a survival-lotto game...

rising tensions between races, creeds, cultures reach the boiling point over obscure points of etiquette (is the reacharound mandatory?). In desperation for a peaceful solution to this madness, MacAlewulf The Knife blurts out, "let's put on a show!"

I foresee a Busby Berkeley-style musical.

 

[Hypoxia]

I foresee a Busby Berkeley-style musical.

But as they dance over the extended tornado shelter, whose top layers have been eroded by wind, rain, and debugging, its roof collapses. All are cast down and die. THE END. Time for popcorn and then the rest of the double feature: SEX SLAVES IN ARKANSAS, a family film that answers the question, "If an Ozark couple divorces, are they still brother and sister?" The setting is a giant trailer park with an approaching tornado. Oh, the humanity...

NOTE: This is my LIT post #9200. Does that mean anything?