Eddie relaxed and let the coolness engulf him. He had no idea what the time was, but his moment must be getting close now. He let the wet sand soak up his fear, and focussed his mind on what was to come, and how he had got here. From the minute he’d learnt that the Big Beautiful Pageant Swimsuit Parade and shoot was going to take place on a beach within walking distance of his home, his objective had been clear. The planning and preparation over the last two weeks had been intense and draining, but that only served more to excite him and sharpen his senses to take in the final act, the execution, the reward. Two weeks. Now he lay here, buried in beach sand from head to toe, waiting. Waiting and thinking. He hoped none of his props – his camcorder and breathing apparatus, and not least himself – were discovered before the event. Afterwards, he would not care.
What if he was discovered? What if he wasn’t but his expensive camcorder was? What if it was taken, and its record of his fate taken with it? He started to worry again, trying to think of anything he may have missed.. but there was nothing he could do about it now, it was surely daylight now and for him to break cover would almost certainly get him noticed by someone. So he waited, and thought again of the 10 large, young, pretty finalists who would soon be walking all over him to reach the stage that had been erected two days ago. Ahhhh, the stage. By the time they had started building it, he already had his brown clothes, eye protection and breathing apparatus, which was effectively a snorkel fashioned out of some hose pipe, prepared. Now the stage was in place the rest could be planned. He had come down to the beach just before sunrise. The steps up to the platform were on the far side to the surf, so he had found it easy to work without being seen by the few surfers braving the dark surf. His snorkel surfaced under the stage, out of site. Also hidden under the stage, and now recording, was his camcorder. It had a perfect view of his burial point, but was out of the line of site of anyone wandering around that part of the stage. He himself was buried with his head just in front of the bottom step, and his feet pointing away from that point. If he had it right, every one of the 10 barefooted, costumed, big, beautiful models would walk all the way along his body before climbing up onto the first step. Eddie had even compacted the sand to support his penis so that even there he may feel some of the models’ glorious weight. He lay there and waited, thinking about that moment, alive with anticipation, hoping that at least some of the heavy beauties would unknowingly crush his buried body under their bare feet. Would rest their 80 to 140 kilograms on his tiny frame as though he was just part of the beach.
Eddie hoped he had buried himself properly. He hoped that the sand wouldn’t be shifted, moved to expose his location. Hoped to be trampled as he never had before. He relaxed again, thought of his fate, and waited.
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