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Meg in a Refrigerator	By : ShadowProc213 Category: +1 through F > Family Guy Views: 19537 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own "Family Guy" the animated series or the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Meg's eyes managed to flutter groggily open. She tried to look around, but saw only the darkness around her. "W-Where am I?" She demanded, hoping blindly that there might be someone paying attention. "Why is it so dark?"
"It isn't dark." Came a voice both deep and gentle, but mockingly so. "The chemical used to tranquilize you has a few side effects, one of which is temporary blindness." He explained to her, resting hands on her shoulders. "It should clear up soon, and then we can begin."
"Who are you?" She demanded, trying as best she could to strain against the thick ropes that held her to this chair. Her arms, bound behind her back, with her wrists tied to the back frame; her ankles, tied to its heavy wooden legs. When her eyes finally came into focus, she saw a black man, dressed in drab-looking clothing. It took a moment, but Meg soon realized that the clothing wasn't in these muted colors... it was stained with the brown hue of dried blood. Trying her best to rally with courage, "I guess you haven't heard. My name is Meg Griffin. Nobody will care that I'm gone, so if you're planning to ransom--" her captor gripped her face in his rather large hand, silencing her defiance.
"There's no plan, no ransom. I'm going to hurt you, break you, and then..." He seemed to drift off in thought before finishing, "Let's just say you won't be leaving this room alive." He looked down at those leering eyes, and let go of her face.
Meg stayed silent, watching this man walk calmly over to a table filled with shining surgical tools. He picked up a few, contemplating each one in turn, before picking up a scalpel and a length of clear plastic hose. She saw him walk past, and heard him kneeling behind her, tying the plastic tube around her right arm. "Cutting my wrists isn't going to be a new feeling." Meg growled. "I can tell you exactly what each scar is from."
"You know, Ms. Griffin, most people are too afraid to banter with me. If you're not scared, then let's make a game of it." He drew the handle of his scalpel down her arm. "If you can maintain well enough to explain where each scar came from, while I'm cutting, then not only will I stitch it up; I'll answer one question for each wound you endure."
He pressed the blade against her flesh, and it was sharp enough that her wrist seemed to fold open, the sticky droplets of crimson falling from the old wound. Meg knew it was the one closest to her hand, "I cut there in sixth grade when Connie D'Amico stole my boyfriend." Her captor pulled the knife away, and she felt the stabbing of what had to be an oversized needle drawing thread through her. "Aaahhh!! That hurts so much more than just dipping my wrist in boiling water..."
"Well, I'm a man of my word. You have until I finish sewing to ask your question." He offered.
"What's your name?" She asked.
"Kaden." He answered. "If you don't mind, why not ask why I kidnapped you? It's more relevant, and it should be more personal."
"I know why you kidnapped me. It's because my life has been one miserable event after another, and this is the only way it could end. Cold, alone, with someone who wants nothing more than to hurt me." Meg just barely managed to get the last few words out before she started crying.
"Time for the next cut." Kaden announced cheerily, this time applying a broad stroke across her arm that just barely missed a major artery.
"Connie D'Amico tricked me into kissing a pig on live television." Meg announced, her tears of sorrow only staunched by the physical pain. "What comes after the cutting?"
"Burning." Kaden answered, already shoving the sewing needle in just a little too far for a new line of stitches. "I'm doing some more cutting first, then we'll cauterize everything. That way, your wounds won't re-open when I'm beating you."
"How far have you planned this?" Meg asked, confused by the revelation that there was a step past laceration.
"Nope. We need another cut before you get another answer." Kaden corrected. "Speaking of which." He drew the blade along the smooth flesh on her left arm, rather than the scarred flesh of her right.
"You're cheating. I only cut one arm. My left leg has scars, though. Like from when my mother changed the locks without telling me." She explained, the tears starting again.
"In the interest of fairness, I'll give you your answer. I've planned each step out to keep you alive as long as possible. Mostly through trial and error with previous victims." He taunted, wiping the stained blade on her shirt. "And before we're done, you're going to be begging for the sweet..." He dragged the blade across her shirt, "release..." as he tore off what was now a scrap of cloth, then locked himself on her eyes, "of death."
Meg bit both of her lips shut and let out a downright blood-curdling shriek, but all the reaction she got from her tormentor was a cocked eyebrow. "What was that?" He demanded. "It was too low to be fear, and too even to be pain, so what the hell was it?"
"Uh... my inner goddess opening up?" Meg tried, letting out a weak smile.
"Did you just quote '50 Shades of Grey' at me?" Kaden barked, slamming the scalpel down on the metal tray beside Meg's chair. "I know that sometimes, orgasms happen, but there's no need to be insulting about it." He walked toward the door, hanging up his apron, "I'll be back later, after I've had some time to myself." and slammed it shut behind him. Meg heard something sliding into place after that, presumably something to bar her in down here. She looked around, and saw vents, but no windows. This room was probably built as a hurricane shelter, so it would be deep in the ground, insulated from noise; a great place to hide someone who might scream or call for help.
She focused on pushing herself forward, trying to use some of her god-given weight to slam this chair into the concrete she had heard Kaden walking on before. She rocked back and forth, hoping that the sound-insulation would help to hide her from the monster upstairs. When the chair fell, it fell backwards, the wood giving way to her weight with a sickening 'crunch'. The lacquered shards pierced the flesh of her arms, despite Meg's calloused and damaged skin, since those scars had just been literally re-opened. She looked down to see the wood jutting through her forearm. A whole lot of focus, and a tense bit of labored breathing was all that kept her from screaming as she extracted that first jagged spike from between her tendons.
Meg grabbed the torn flesh of her wrist, doing her best to grip it closed. She rolled onto her back, since the shock was just now starting to dissipate, and the full wave of agony hit her; she let loose with a banshee's wail. "Help!" she screeched loud enough that everyone in Quahog should have been able to hear it, but the only response she got was that same man, his dark flesh now matching the suit he wore, descending the stairs to greet her.
"If they hate you as much as you say they do, then why would they come to help?" Kaden asked, holding up a small leather case from which he drew a syringe.
"If I was lucky, they would just not realize it was me." Meg argued, exhaling hard. "That, or you would realize that your fun is over if I die."
Kaden smiled at her. "The victim has made a valid point." He advanced steadily, and Meg was in no position to defend herself. He injected her in the neck. "You're going to be naked when you wake up. I want you to think about that while you're out."
Meg woke up in another chair, but this one was quite a lot sturdier, and colder. A little extra feeling around showed that she was sitting on metal. Looking around, she saw not only her own blood from earlier, but a myriad of power tools on a pegboard. She hadn't noticed it before, probably just because she was facing the wrong way. Looking down at herself, Meg actually felt a little proud of the fact that a man had undressed her of his own volition. "Uh, Kaden, honey?" she asked a presumably empty room.
"Don't call me that. We're not a couple. Kidnapping is a terrible basis for a relationship." Kaden sniped.
"Not for me." Meg sighed. "I tried to rape my family's dog once, I held Mr. Swanson prisoner for almost a week, went on one date with a guy who tried to steal my kidney, then there was that death-row guy, Luke--"
Kaden was left gaping at her as she rambled about the romantic tribulations of her past, but cut her off at the mention of death-row. "Listen, I never thought I'd get to say this, but let's make the situation less awkward and get started using the power tools on your flesh. Also, you've been out for a few extra days, since I had to fix all that unplanned damage to your wrists."
Meg looked down at her wrists, which were bound to her seat by thick leather straps. They were wrapped around a few times, but she was able to move them just a little. Her legs felt similarly strapped to the legs of this chair, though that did leave her thighs set further apart than before, and her cherished girlhood was left wide open and exposed to this man's horrid plans. "Why did you wax my cunt?"
"Excuse me?" Kaden demanded, refitting a power drill with a different bit.
"You keep talking about using 'tools' to hurt me." Meg snarled, real anger already showing, but not because of being kidnapped, or sliced open, "If you went to the trouble of cleaning everything up in Megatron Griffin's filthy, disgusting, little whore-hole, why not do her a favor and use it!? It's not like anyone else has fucked it up for you, a sentence which I unfortunately mean literally!"
"Okay, you're going to have to back up some." Kaden instructed. "First of all, I only did some rudimentary grooming of you because you looked overdue, and the hair would have clogged up the drill." He emphasized by giving the drill a tentative spin, "Second, did you just say that your full first name is 'Megatron'?"
"Yes." Meg managed to squeak out, thoroughly embarrassed of herself.
"Right..." Kaden trailed off a little, glancing back and forth between Meg's right and left legs.
"Admiring what's under the hood?" Meg asked, a sound almost like hope in her voice.
"Nope. Just making a choice. Here goes--" He announced, plunging the drill into her thigh, and she looked up with contempt as he withdrew the still-spinning bit from her gushing flesh. "--come now, at least have the courtesy to scream 'no, please mister, please stop hurting me!' The begging for mercy is my favorite part."
"Well then, that's one more reason for me not to scream, isn't it?" Meg argued.
Kaden tossed the drill to the floor, then pulled down a set of skewers from the same pegboard. "Well, if you're going to be so needlessly defiant, then we can skip the beating and move along to something that should hurt a whole lot more." He knelt down in front of her, getting himself at eye level, then grabbed a fistful of Meg's left breast. He pulled taught from the nipple, then shoved the first sharpened metal rod through the meat of her chest.
"Are you kidding? If amateur hour is over, go get the drill. Then I can bleed to death instead of be bored to death." Meg taunted.
"Shut up, you little--" Kaden stopped when he saw her smiling up at him. He dropped the other skewers. "I made a mistake when I captured you."
"You mean kidnapping and torturing someone for fun?" Meg barked.
"No. I mean you, specifically." Kaden elaborated. "Any other girl your age would have been fine, but not you." He unhooked the straps keeping her in place, after delicately pulling the metal rod from her left tit, and held out some gauze. "You can leave now, probably to a hospital, if you promise not to tell anyone about me."
Meg's face instantly darkened, and she pounced.Throwing her full weight at him, she knocked Kaden to the concrete floor. Grabbing him by the skull with both hands, her thumbs poised to gouge his eyes. "You! Don't! Get! To! Abandon! Me!" She punctuated every screaming word by slamming Kaden's head into the ground.
Having the longer reach, and much better conditioning, Kaden held her at bay, his hand on her throat. He looked up as she glared down, "Get off!" He barked back, throwing her toward the opposite wall. "You don't want to leave? Fine. The first aid kit is in the southwest corner. I'll be back. After checking for a concussion..."
He left up the stairs, and Meg started working to fix the two newest wounds opened up in her body. She'd hurt herself worse than this last week, though not in the same places. The thigh needed some actual sewing, but her breast just needed some gauze taped to it on both punctures.
She sat there, waiting in a semi-conscious haze, for almost four hours. By then, the door upstairs opened up again, and Kaden walked down with a tray; sitting on that tray looked like a nicely prepared dinner. Steak, potatoes, and carrots, with a glass of something bubbly beside. "Here. I thought this might break the ice for the important conversation we're about to have. A conversation I like to call: 'Why Isn't She Running Away'."
Meg picked up a fistful of the carrots, and shoved them into her maw like she always did when frustrated, "I'm not going to just leave. Stop giving me that look."
"The look is because you aren't using a fork." Kaden corrected. "I'm not going to force you out, just tell me why you don't want to leave."
Meg picked up the fork, and the knife, and began carving into the slab of beef as she spoke pensively. "No matter what horrible thing you were doing to me, it couldn't hurt more than just being me. While you were carving my wrists, it still felt better than when my father would grab me by the hair and fart in my face."
Kaden cocked an eyebrow when she said that. "I get that some families have twisted methods of communication, but what point was your father trying to make?"
"He wanted to laugh at me." Meg explained. "And whenever he did it, my mother and my brother would laugh, too." She trailed off at that, staring down at the meat carved into misshapen little squares, but not actually touching any of it. "But you made me feel important."
"How?" Kaden demanded, more confused than ever.
"All the extra effort to catch me, restrain me, keep me alive." She looked up with an attempt at puppy-dog eyes, only to get a vexed glare.
"You were supposed to be dead two days ago, on the inside from the boiling water, and on the outside from the electroshock." Kaden explained in that same monotone.
"I don't remember that." Meg argued.
"I know. It knocked you out for a while, but you woke up and started asking for more before I got to use my reciprocating saw."
"So how long have I actually been here?" Meg asked.
"About a week, I think. I'm on vacation, and I don't really count days until the last week or so." Kaden answered, reaching down to grab a square of steak and pop it in his mouth.
"And you decided that sexual torture was out of the question because I'm so hideous?" Meg asked, pushing the food around on the plate.
"That's not why. You're hot, really hot, but I just don't like doing those things to people." He actually looked disgusted as he said it, which left Meg surprised. "I'm a killer, not a rapist."
"That sounds like an arbitrary distinction at best, Mr. Kettle." Meg verbally jabbed, scowling at him.
"I'm not claiming moral superiority. It's just a matter of taste." He agreed, popping another square of meat in his mouth. "Though I do think most of the killers in this region are idiots. Finnesse is important."
"Wait... So, if you're not trying to kill me anymore, what if I just offered myself to you openly?" Meg pondered aloud. Kaden nodded along, then reached up to hold her throat again. He gripped the same place as before, though much gentler, even matching his fingers to the prior bruises. Pulling her closer, he pressed his lips to hers, and she placed one of his hands on her left breast. He pushed her away when he felt gauze. "Is something wrong?" Meg asked. "If I'm too fat, we can--"
Kaden moved his hand swiftly from her throat to cover her mouth. "You're not too fat. And I'm not rejecting you, not really. I'm saying we need to wait until you heal up. Groping you is going to feel weird with all the extra stitches and cotton."
"And you won't have a problem being with a girl covered in scars?" Meg asked, hugging herself in that general feeling of fear to which she was so accustomed.
"I don't mind the scars I gave you, or from trying to escape." Kaden assured her, running a hand along her face. "But if anyone else hurts you, I'll make them wish they were dead. The self-inflicted stuff will take some getting used to."
"But you'll still hurt me a little, right? You promised canes and whips when you were slicing my wrists, remember?" She asked, following him up the stairs, working her way quickly up to yelling. "Remember? You promised to make me hurt!"
-Much, Much Later-
Meg was wrapped in ropes, her hands held in a mock-prayer at her face, her ankles tied to metal hooks on the floor. But unlike the previous binding, already over a month ago, everything felt far more comfortable. The ropes were all soft silk, and her dear captor was standing behind her, with none of the tools from before. "So, Kaden, how do I look from back there?"

"Well, the fattest parts of you easily look the best, since those aren't scarred at all. And has anyone ever told you that you've got an ass like a black girl? You ought to show that off." Kaden commented. He stood about seven feet behind her, wearing only a pair of extra-tight black jeans, really drinking in the image of this angel that was so eager to be bound.
"Yeah, but my mom never bought me the black girl clothes. She said it's because I'm a 'practice girl'." Meg answered.
"Well, all the girls I practiced on are dead, and you're not. We'll work on fashion later, because you're making the battle-scarred thing work." She could almost hear Kaden smiling in that sentence. He had a point, though. Her wrists and arms had been covered in slashes for years already, so now those scars just felt more crowded. Her breast had been impaled not too long ago, leaving what almost looked like two extra, inverted, nipples on the left side. There were plenty of other, minor things to mention, but they weren't relevant to the moment. Kaden drew one of the canes from a converted umbrella stand; a simple, clear Lexan rod, with a plastic handle on one end. "You might want to brace yourself."
When he saw the muscles in her thighs tense up, Kaden took a wide swing, landing right at the fleshiest part of Meg's already thick ass. At first, Meg just let out a numb pant, but then the burning sting built up over the next several seconds, and she groaned with that carnal pain. "I think that might have hurt more than the drill..." She moaned. "Do it again."
When he heard that request, Kaden struck her again, just a few inches away from the swollen pink mark left by the initial blow. The noises were dissimilar this time, so he struck lower, actually leaving a mark now that crossed both the earlier lines. Meg let out another moan, even deeper now; at this point, she couldn't even hold that prayer in front of her. The shibari pattern they were using meant the ropes left all of the most sensitive parts of Meg, save for her pussy, easily accessible for both of them. She grabbed her own breasts, pressing them together over the ropes as she arched her back in delight.
Kaden walked up briskly behind her, much too close to give another swing, and pinched the slowly bruising splotch of flesh between the intersecting cane-marks. "Whatever will I do with a girl enjoying herself in my basement?" He teased, dropping the Lexan cane to the floor and leaning down to kiss this curvy, visibly damaged girl in front of him.
"You'd better think of something, because I love it here." Meg let go of her chest, reaching those hands of hers up to drape around Kaden's shoulders. She leaned up, just a little, so she could slide her tongue inside his mouth. This man in her arms, who made her feel perfect with every searing stroke of pain. She did her best to please him by exploring his mouth with her tongue, still afraid that he might-- then he did it. He stepped back, away from her. It couldn't be to swing with the cane, because that was on the ground.
"I thought of something. Close your eyes." Kaden instructed. Their time together had been a long series of trust issues, all of which were justified, and this was no different. Meg closed her eyes, and bit her lip nervously while she waited. She heard his footsteps as he walked around her, felt the ankle ropes being loosened, then heard something jingling. "Now open them." Meg looked in front of her, and saw a narrow black band of leather, studded once an inch with blood red tourmaline gems. "Do you know what this is?"
"Is it a dog collar? It looks like a dog collar." Meg said, somewhere in that awkward area between being insulted and just deeply confused.
"It's not dog collar. I had it re-sized to fit you perfectly." Kaden explained, getting genuinely nervous for the first time since Meg had met him. "I want--" he gulped down the nerves, "To keep you." He managed that sentence, since it was carefully arranged to be as similar to his old threats as possible. The next part left him looking into Meg's eyes, terrified. "Will you marry me?"
Meg stumbled toward him when he said that, her footing destroyed by sheer surprise, falling into his arms, that little collar resting against her bare neck. "I'm yours." She smiled, and fastened the gift to herself. The thought of someone loving her enough to ask that was one of her earliest dreams, and one of the first to be crushed. Now, with one simple offer, that dream was both revived and realized. The hellion that had chosen her out of every other girl for slaughter, wanted to share a life with her.
She stepped back, untied a few more of the ropes, and slipped out of the silken bindings she was wearing. "Will you take me, right now?" She begged, dropping to her knees and beaming a smile at her beloved devil, "I'm all healed up, except for a few fresh bruises." Meg giggled a little when she mentioned the fresh bruises. "But, I'm sure you don't mind a damaged woman." She joked, undoing the front of Kaden's pants and pulling them down past his knees.
"Damaged? You're more than just damaged." Kaden thought aloud, running his fingers through Meg's auburn hair, and tracing the tip of his member against her lips. "You are, by a wide margin, the craziest bitch I've ever met."
"I know." Meg said breathily, dragging her tongue up the shaft before her eyes. "That's why you put a collar on me." Once her tongue was at the tip, she wrapped her lips around the head, then took as much as she could into her mouth without choking. She savored first the feeling of his cock in her mouth, then his hands resting on her head. She sucked, swirled and licked with her moist tongue, and even started to taste the first few sweet drops of pre-cum rewarding her.
Still, it took a little while before Meg pushed Kaden's cock further into her mouth. As she felt it entering her throat, she clamped her eyes shut, since she wanted to really enjoy the experience, and her first thought was how much thicker he was than a hot dog; this thought was quickly replaced by surprise when she felt Kaden move his hips away from her face, his penis leaving a sticky trail of semen across both her cheek and her glasses. Meg heard him breathing hard, but didn't open her eyes yet. Instead, she wiped most of the cum off with her hand, sucked those fingers clean; then she took her glasses off and licked those clean, too.
When she opened her eyes, Meg saw Kaden staring, wide eyed, down at her. "What is it? You've got that 'Dr. Lecter' look on your face."
"It's called fascination." Kaden explained, dropping to his knees. He was taller, so still looking down at Meg, but now he could put his hands on those soft shoulders of hers. "I don't mean to hurry anything, but I want to marry you tomorrow." He said, and she lit up. "I take it by your expression that you agree."
"It's not that I don't want to, but I still need some time to invite my family." Meg explained, putting her hands likewise on Kaden's shoulders.
"But you hate your family." Kaden said, confused.
"Yeah, and that's why I want to throw it in their faces that I got a hot black guy to marry me. Voluntarily." Meg gave that evil smirk.
"Well, far be it from me to judge someone for spite." Kaden shrugged. "We haven't been down here too long today, let's go invite them."
-One Hour Later-
It took a little while for them to both get cleaned up and dressed, and a little longer for them to get to the Griffin home, which had a 'For Sale' sign on the front lawn.
"That's weird..." Meg thought aloud as she and Kaden walked up to the door. She knocked, a little afraid that one of Peter's idiot schemes had lost them the house again.
Brian, a medium-sized white dog of indeterminate breed and decidedly humanoid posture, opened the door. When he saw Meg, he dropped the martini he was holding, and ran to hug her. "Oh, Meg, where have you been? I was so worried."
"I was staying with him." Meg said simply, motioning to Kaden, who gave a simple wave.
"You could have called." Brian snapped.
"You could have filed a missing persons report!" Meg yelled.
"I did!" Brian yelled back. "...The cops called off the search when they read Peter's arrest record. They figured you had just run away from his insanity."
"Brian, who's that at the door?" Stewie asked, walking up beside Brian.
"It's just Meg, and her new... roommate?" Brian finally addressed Kaden.
"I'm her fiance." He corrected, then bluntly added, "Which really says a lot about how you all must have treated her, since I ki--" Meg slapped a hand over his mouth.
"No, sweetie." Meg corrected, "These two never did anything. The worst thing Brian did was reject me when I tried to sexually assault him."
Kaden gently brushed her hand away. "Oh. Well then, it's nice to meet you both. Now, where's Peter Griffin? I want to punch him in the face."
"You both should come inside and sit down." Brian invited, to which Kaden and Meg obliged. They sat on the couch, with Stewie between them.
"This is so much fun! It's just like before everyone left!" Stewie yelled excitedly.
"Brian, what is he talking about?" Meg asked, feeling more concern for her family than she was really comfortable with.
Brian took a deep breath, then began with, "Peter is in a mental institution."
"That's not too surprising." Meg breathed a sigh of relief. "When's he getting out?"
"He's not getting out. It started out as a five year sentence, but we keep getting notices about him doing stuff to get time added." Brian explained. "He's been there two weeks, and his sentence has already doubled."
"Well, that sucks, I guess." Kaden said, trying to be nice to these people. "So, if he's gone, where's the redheaded bitch?"
"The bitch went to live with her parents after disowning me to be raised by the dog." Stewie said dryly. "And we don't have any idea where the younger fat idiot went. Those three tore each other apart without Meg to gang up on."
Meg seemed to stare into space for a moment, then looked at Brian. "You and Stewie are invited to the wedding. I don't know when it'll be, since we need to go make sure they're all okay." She got up and marched toward the door.
"Meg, honey, why do you want to help them?" Kaden asked, clearly irritated by Meg's sudden burst of selflessness, trailing not far behind.
"I said I wanted to throw this wedding in their face. And that's what I intend to do, even if it means dragging those douche bags out of the mud to do it." Meg growled. "Starting with Lois."
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Meg in a Refrigerator