Chapter 2 – How Like My Mother?

Susan stood in front of the elderly mirror on the front of the wardrobe in her bedroom, running a critical eye over the naked body more or less accurately reflected back at her. It wasn’t a sight that filled with confidence. A couple of daughters, now in their teens, had left their marks behind. The little red lines, faded somewhat now, from over-stretched skin and little sag at the base of her tummy couldn't be missed. A pair of generously sized tits hung rather low but, given how greedily Chloe, her youngest, had suckled on them, it was quite surprising they had any ‘perk’ left. When hidden under her clothes these signs of age and gravity were something she’d learnt to live with, but she couldn’t expect they’d stay unseen if TV made a star of her.  

The girls at work had been sympathetic when she'd told them, wishing something quick and not too uncomfortable for her. Susan hadn't liked to tell them, they were just trying to be kind, but in an odd way that wasn’t what she was hoping for. There was a part of her that she rather wished she could suppress that felt, given her dignity was to be stripped away anyway, a starring role will be better. She hadn’t wanted to be snuffed on national TV, where being exposed would only be the start, but she was going to be. Susan couldn’t help feeling that something better than being one of the dozens of slow-hangers at the back of the set might be some consolation.

At least Marlene had understood some of this. Her letter had also come, and she hadn’t been picked. She’d given Susan a jar of skin firming cream, one that she’d bought for herself in case she was picked. Her words, as she handed it over, had been a little ambiguous, “Just in case the camera’s doing close-ups.”

Susan asked Marlene what she was going to pick now she’d got her rejection. Feeling a twinge of jealousy hearing about a plan for an anonymous beheading and gutting, in that order, at the local abattoir.

****

This wasn’t going to get supper made. Susan shook her head to clear it – it wasn’t as though she now had any control over what she would end up doing - and quickly re-dressed. By the time James and the girls came home, she’d managed to get a pasta bake in the oven.

There was ice cream for pudding. They didn’t usually bother with puddings on weekdays, but Susan had picked some up on the way home to try and soften her news. The girls were excited, but James looked at her curiously.

“I have something to tell you.” Susan announced, a little nervously, as the plates were cleared.

“I thought you had.” replied James, looking at her speculatively. “Have you had your call-up already? That’s quite early isn’t it?”
The
Susan caught the look on his face, was he thinking she’d end up at his plant? He’d always been a very considerate husband, was he hoping for one last brutal hurrah, so he and the other lads could have a laugh over a few beers? She tried not to speculate any more, that wasn’t going to be happening now anyway.

“I haven’t been called-up.” she explained. “I’ve volunteered for the telethon.. and been chosen.”

“Cool!” said the girl’s in unison.

“Mum that’s great!” continued Chloe. “No one in my class has ever had their mother on it. At least when I tell everyone it’ll shut Melanie up, she’s always going on about her aunt, and she was only on a rope at the back - apparently you couldn’t even see her face.”

“You’ve been keeping that quiet.” commented James, at last, rather dryly. “I didn’t even know you signed up.”

Susan looked a little sheepish. She really should have told James straight away, but she’d just been so hung-over the next day and, somehow, the longer she’d left it, the less real it had seemed. Now it felt very real.

“I’m sorry darling.” Susan apologised, moving in to cuddle him. “It was that night a couple of weeks ago when I got drunk at the bar. I know I should have told you, but somehow it didn’t seem true until I got the letter this morning.”

“Come on dad.” chivvied Becca. “It’s going to be fun seeing mum on the telly. There’s no point in getting mad about it now.”

In all the rush, Susan hadn’t even thought of that. Now she came out with a horrified, “You know we never let you watch it! It’s hardly suitable entertainment for a couple of teenage girls. What happens if I get a starring role? You won’t want to see your mother like that!”

“But mum!” wailed Becca. “I’ve got to. All the other kids will be watching when they know you’re on. Anyway, I saw loads of it last year when I was round at Tina’s.”

It was a shock to Susan to remember she’d been like that at Becca’s age. While her mother had never been on, she could still remember trying to wheedle her parents into letting her watch. Forty, even thirty, seemed such a long way away at that age. When she’d first watched the telethon, lying on the sofa in James’ flat, shortly after they started going out, it had been quite fun. They’d even tried screwing in time with a skinny blonde woman who was jerking particularly rhythmically on the end of a rope. These days she really only watched to keep James company, it was all too easy to see herself in the women being snuffed in such undignified positions. Mostly she just looked forward to the extra-intense fuck they’d have afterwards.

“It’s not as though we can avoid it for ever.” wheedled Becca, searching for a winning argument. “We’re all going to be snuffed eventually. The school trip to the processing plant is rubbish, you hardly get to see anything. At least on the telethon you get to see all the detail.”

“The telethon is hardly like being snuffed in a processing plant.” argued her mother. “No quick chop and then it’s all over.”

“I think we should let them, if they want to.” James pronounced, “As Becca said, they’re both going to be snuffed eventually. They’ve been to a processing plant, they might as well see the glamorous end as well.”

“Are you sure James?” Susan asked. “What if I get picked for the really extreme stuff?”

“We’ve seen you naked mum.” it was Chloe who piped up this time, looking anxious. Being the youngest she worried she might miss out even if her sister was allowed to watch. “And if you get picked for the extreme stuff everybody at school will definitely be talking about it. I’ll look really silly if I haven’t seen it.”

“Oh all right.” agreed Susan grumpily, realising, if James was backing their daughters, she was going to lose the argument. “I’ll probably just be at the back with my face out of shot like Tina’s aunt anyway.”

“Thanks mum.” chorused the girls, kissing her and tripping quickly out before Susan could change her mind.

Watching them go, chattering happily, she found it hard to believe that she’d felt like that, seventeen years ago, when her own mother had been sent for processing. Her mum had actually been sent for pet food at James’ plant. He’d only been an apprentice then, but even the thought he might have had a hand in snuffing her mother had driven her wild in bed that night. Now she was finding herself curious instead of hot. For the first time she actually wanted to know if James had been there for her mother’s snuff.

“Darling.” she asked, bending low over him, bringing her mouth close to his ear. “Do you remember when mum was sent to your place for processing?”

“I should think so!” he answered, twisting his head to look up at her, then suddenly breaking into a grin. “And I remember that night in bed. We could barely walk afterwards!”

It was tempting to be distracted, even the distant memories were making her a little damp, but Susan pressed on. “Were you actually there when she was processed though?”

James looked even more surprised at this, “Don’t you remember? When the guys found out my mother-in-law was coming they made her my initiation.”

“You never told me that!”

“I must have done. You know I came home that evening with my first guild certificate.”

“I remember that.” Susan answered, a little confused. She was sure James hadn’t mentioned snuffing her mother to get it. “I don’t remember you mentioning about my mum though.”

“Well. It’s ancient history now, I wouldn’t worry about it.” pronounced James, turning his head back and sinking comfortably into his chair.

“But I want to know about it now.” persisted Susan, gently squeezing him and rubbing her tits against the back of his head. “What was it actually like for her?”

Abruptly looking more alert, and really quite serious, James asked, “If you really want to know I’ll tell you, but I don’t think it’ll be your thing. Are you sure?”

Susan hadn’t been entirely sure, but the change in her husband’s manner meant that, however distressing, she really wanted to know now.

“I am sure Darling.” she replied, equally seriously.

James settled back again, letting his wife’s arms settle round him and his head to sink into her breasts, as he recalled the last day of being a student. When he started to speak, Susan eased herself into the chair next to him, anxious to catch every word. James looked happy as he recalled the day he ceased to be an apprentice. He could almost hear the voice of his old supervisor, Mr Rodgers, when he was called up for the initiation.

****

“James! Come over here lad. We’ve fixed up a special treat for your final test.”

It was late afternoon, and James had been hosing down the gutting area, processing being over for the day.

“Coming Mr Rodgers.” he replied, excitedly. Finally he was going to get a skilled job, and that meant a decent pay packet.

There was already a woman standing in the special preparation area behind Mr Rodgers. She had her back to James, but she looked a reasonable specimen for a woman who must be in her late thirties, her short brown hair reminding him of his wife’s. They never got volunteers at the plant, and James had been dreading getting landed with one of the gross rejects who made up the bulk of their stock. Talking of bulk, this one wasn’t too fat either, which had been worrying him. Only today there’d been several serious whales going through, and he wasn’t sure he could handle one on his own.

“Come along lad.” chivvied Mr Rodgers. “You need to get this meat into a chicken truss, then you’ll be dressing and gutting it.”

A chicken truss! That was harder than he’d been hoping. You had to tie the woman’s wrists and ankles together above her head - while still leaving her open for gutting. If the meat was awkward it could be a nightmare to get the positioning right.

“Come and meet your meat.” said Mr Rodgers, ushering him in with a bit of a grin. “Although I believe you’ve met before.”

When the woman turned round James had been a little stunned. For a fleeting second he’d thought it was his wife. Susan really did look like a younger version of her mother, right down, as James now discovered, to the same unusually prominent nipples and tiny, but thick, shock of dark pubes just covering her crotch.

“Dorothy!”

Dorothy had been told her son-in-law would be preparing her. Even so, despite knowing it was too late for decency, she still involuntarily tried to hide her nakedness in front of him.

“Hi James.” she half-whispered, not her usual tone of voice with her daughter’s husband. She went on, not quite able to meet his eyes. “You do know this wasn’t my idea?”

“What’s the first rule James?” barked Mr Rodgers, before his apprentice could reply.

James’ training took over. “Meat is meat Mr Rodgers.”

“Well. Get on with it then lad.”

James managed to stay professional, but it was weird getting a naked Dorothy to bend over the shiny steel surface of the prep table. As he pulled her legs and arms into position, roping up as he’d been taught, he was grateful for the long hours of practice that helped to steady his nerves.

Chicken trussing wasn’t easy. The final move, turn the meat over, rope the knees together, pull them back so the belly was exposed, was pretty tricky. If you hadn’t tied everything just so then you could dislocate a hip or even break a bone. Normally that wouldn’t matter, particularly for pet food, but this was his initiation and everything needed to be perfect.

Even the gutting wasn’t going to be easy. Normally for pet food it was a quick slash across the belly to pull out the bowels, then a quick stab up just behind the clit to drain the bladder. With the speed of the plant worked at, many a woman was still uncontrollably peeing right up to the moment where she was thrown on top of the heap of naked and howling bodies already in the hopper. For his test James would need to empty the belly completely, laying out all the major organs intact and ready for cooking.

James finally breathed again as Dorothy, with no more than a few grunts of discomfort, was finally trussed and turned back over. Stepping back to check his handiwork, he couldn’t help, even if this was just meat, being aroused by the sight of the pussy his wife had been pushed out from now clearly visible between splayed legs.

“How’s that for you?” James was surprised to see Mr Rodgers addressing the question to Dorothy.

“Surprisingly comfortable, considering.”

Mr Rodgers turned back to James, looking disappointed.

“And what’s wrong with that, then?” he asked the suddenly worried apprentice.

James was crestfallen, but thought quickly.

“If the meat’s comfortable then it’s not roped tight enough.” the look on the older man’s face gave him more confidence and he pressed on, feeling more certain. “The meat should be trussed right up to breaking point, to ensure there can’t be any movement when it’s dressed.”

“At least you know what’s wrong.” despite his stern tone, Mr Rodgers looked happy with the answer. “You’d better get everything untied and try again.”

“Yes sir.” answered James, rolling a now rather disconsolate Dorothy over to loosen the last knot.

“And don’t forget. You only get two attempts at this, so make this one count lad.”

“Sorry about this, Dorothy.” muttered James, as he started the trussing again, causing her to whimper as he pulled every turn extra tight. “I’ve got to get this right or I’ll be an apprentice for another year.”

“Just get on with it.” she managed to croak. “It’s about time you started making some real money so Susan can stop worrying.”

****

This was the bit James decided not to tell his wife, even now. Despite being in the middle of getting trussed up for snuffing, his mother-in-law still managed to get under his skin. He didn’t mention how satisfying it now felt getting her to squawk as he yanked even the tiniest slack out of each turn. Or his pride in drawing out an actual scream as he wrenched his mother-in-law’s knees behind her.

****

“Much better.” commented James’ boss, as he tested the ropes and checked the limbs for movement. “You shouldn’t have any trouble dressing her now.”

“Thank you.” replied James, panting a little after his efforts.

Dorothy was panting too. Her awkward position not only pretty painful, but also making breathing quite hard.

“Get your dick in that cunt then lad. Time to see if you’re a craftsman.”

Dorothy looked shocked at this. James looked a little worried himself, but also more than a little interested. He’d heard rumours about this from his workmates, but hadn’t been sure whether they just winding him up.

“No second chances here.” Mr Rodgers was grinning at him. “One slip and it’s all over for you both.”

This was it then. He really did have to prepare the meat while fucking it. Taking off the hands and feet should be okay, even if the angle was a little tricky. The real test was gutting. One slip with his wickedly sharp gutting knife and he’d lose his cock as well.

It had been surprising fun, even with the stress of the test, to see that face, so like his wife’s, screw up in gasping pain as he sliced and sawed through wrist and ankle. He couldn’t believe the feeling on his cock, buried deep in that almost-familiar pussy, as spasms of pain contracted the muscles around it. When he moved to slice into the soft flesh of the belly, drawing a desperate howl from the stricken meat, he almost feared his dick would be crushed.

Dorothy was beyond words when he’d finished, barely alive. All the same her pussy had done it’s work, and he pulled a very satisfied sticky cock out of her.

“Excellent lad.” commended Mr Rodgers, looking at his apprentices handiwork. “I think I’ll be having the pleasure of welcoming you into the guild tomorrow.”

“Thank you sir.” answered James, not even trying to hold back a big smile. “What should I do with this meat?”

“Untie it and throw it in the hopper. It’s too late to restart the grinder, we’ll put it through in the morning.”

“Will it survive until then?”

“Probably not, but then we’re only making pet food.”

Mr Rodgers gave James a companionable slap on the back. “See you in the pub in twenty minutes lad. First round’s on you.”

****

“So you just left mum in the hopper?”

“Of course, she wasn’t going anywhere.”

“And did she make it to the morning?”

James grinned a bit sheepishly at this.

“I was a bit naïve back then, and Mr Rodgers did like to wind-up the new blokes. Dressed and gutted! There was no chance she’d even make a couple of hours.”

It was distressing for Susan to find herself a little damp again. To think that that wild night in bed, when his cock had thrust so much pleasure into her, it had still been stained from her own mother’s doomed pussy. Was her husband thinking of her mother lying naked and mutilated in a cold steel hopper as he pounded her dripping snatch? Why was this making her feel so excited? This was not helping to clear her mind.

She didn’t get much time to think anyway. It turned out she wasn’t the only one inflamed by these reminiscences. A few minutes later she was biting the pillow, feeling like James was trying to split her open with no more than his rampant prick.

This story is a fantasy, set in another place, with only the slightest passing nod to our reality as it’s glimpsed on a distant horizon. If this isn’t immediately apparent to you, I strongly suggest you seek urgent psychiatric care.