The Class are Hooked

It only seemed a moment before she was lying on the platform again, wishing she’d tried to land on the leg that was already damaged. Above her, still tied tight in their ropes, dangled the pair of firm young mammaries that had so recently adorned her chest. Even in her anguish it seemed weird, like an out of body experience for just that small part of her.

Next moment she was being hauled up to lie, face first, over the small display table, cleverly designed to swivel round so all parts of a model could be shown to the class. Was it only last week she’d watched and taken notes as Dawn was strapped across this table and branded on her belly?

She couldn’t see what Miss Stapleton was holding when she said, “Can anybody tell me what this is?”

“It looks like an anal hook Miss.” Tracy piped up from the front row. She was well placed to know, her moment to shine on the platform had included one. “But it’s far too large, that knob on the end’s more like a tennis ball than a marble, and the shaft’s much too long.”

“And you were doing so well Tracy.” Miss Stapleton joked. “You should learn when to stop talking. It is an anal hook, but designed to support the entire weight of even a substantial slut like our model. The longer shaft and extra-large knob combine to provide maximum support with maximum discomfort. As you almost identified it, would you like to come up and fit it Tracy?”

Tracy positively leapt onto the platform, anxious to show off her skills and, frankly, just anxious to show off. Even though it interrupted the lesson, Bridget couldn’t help feeling a little gratified when Tracy failed to force the large knob passed her sphincter.

“Really Tracy.” Miss Stapleton cut in, looking annoyed now at having chosen her. “Haven’t you learnt anything? You should have checked with your fingers first, and, if it’s a tight young arsehole like this slut’s clearly is, you need to stretch it first. If you don’t you could spend all day prodding at it and you’d still get nowhere.”

Bridget felt Tracy’s fingers poking into her bowels. After a few seconds of hesitant prodding, Miss Stapleton cut in again. She pulled Bridget round so that her bottom was facing the class.

“I thought we’d covered this months ago.” the teacher said, quite petulantly. “But apparently some of you need a refresher course. Tracy, lick your fingers clean and go and sit down.”

It was quite nice to think of Tracy licking the taste of shit off her fingers, but Bridget didn’t get much time to enjoy the thought.

“A finger from each hand in, then stretch. Then two more fingers in, then stretch again.” Miss Stapleton was saying. Yanking so hard at Bridget’s tight little anus that she thought it was going to rip.

“See how wide even a tight little hole like this one will get.” continued Miss Stapleton, after quite a bit more brutal wrenching and the use of all eight fingers. “You can clearly see that our model here has a turd ready to push out, of course we’ll be sending that back deep inside in a minute. Then you’ll see how, when I let go, her sphincter won’t contract properly for several minutes, giving plenty of time to smoothly insert even a large anal hook.”

Miss Stapleton casually licked her own fingers clean, grabbing a few admiring glances, as she looked round her classroom.

“Beth.” she said, after a few seconds. “You haven’t joined in for a while. Why don’t you come and insert the hook into the model?”

Twisting her head round, Bridget saw her friend walk determinedly from their seats at the back. They’d both done their theory on this, even examining each other’s bottoms, but she knew Beth had no more practical experience than she did.

“We’ll just pull the model round.” Miss Stapleton said, as Beth climbed onto the platform. “The look on her face as you insert this should be quite instructive. Just remember, slow but firm. While you’re aiming to painfully stretch her guts, we don’t want them ruptured yet.”

The ‘yet’ seemed to go with not worrying about pregnancy, but Bridget wasn’t thinking about that for long. With more confidence than she’d expected, Beth forced the giant knob through her sphincter, even after Miss Stapleton’s preparation still stretching it painfully wide. Grunting with effort, Beth started forcing the hook deep into Bridget’s belly. At first it was just uncomfortable, but as she felt the cold metal grind deep inside her, spreading wide her protesting bowels and pushing their contents far back inside, the pain grew much worse.

“Can you see how her face is screwed up and tears are leaking from her eyes.” the teacher was saying. “If you have a full bowel, like this model does, then this procedure is particularly painful. I’d always recommend doing it on a woman who’s eaten well and hasn’t crapped recently.”

“I’ve reached the bend.” Beth interrupted her. “It won’t go any further. What should I do now, it feels like she’s trying to push it out?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll soon deal with that. Just hold it in there while I grab another rope. As soon as we start to lift her it’ll be quite secure.”

I can’t help it, thought Bridget. My arse is just automatically heaving against the intruder. It’s like that time when Carl buggered me, he said I kept forcing him out, and after that word got around. I spent an entire term being teased, and no one bothered trying again. The only thing I’ve had up there since then has been Beth’s finger. Oh well, I’m certainly making up for it now.

Miss Stapleton worked quickly, and in a few seconds Bridget started feeling a horrible pressure force through her guts, as she was lifted up with agonising slowness.

“Even with such a large knob.” Miss Stapleton was explaining. “The model’s weight will be slowly ripping her bowel open, letting all that crap we saw, now under extreme pressure, squirt into her guts. Notice how the weight of her legs is keeping her balanced upright. If you stick a finger into her pussy, you’ll feel it contracting madly under the strain, and in a minute or two she should wet herself. Beth if you’d like a feel.”

She’d had her friends fingers inside her a few times before without incident, when they were checking out something they’d just read in a textbook. This time her cunt muscles just seized around her friends fingers. As Beth struggled to pull them out, she felt her bladder go. She hadn’t meant to piss on her friend, but the first stream caught Beth square in the face, leaving her spluttering.

“Excellent!” said Miss Stapleton, looking at the piss soaked girl with interest, Beth’s face now thunderous. “I think you’re in the perfect mood to start the next section. Grab this and see what you can do with a couple of swings to the model’s legs.”

Pained and humiliated, Bridget still looked to see what her teacher was handing over. She wished she could explain to Beth that pissing on her had been an accident, but the gag prevented that. Now her friend, with that determined look that Bridget had learnt meant business, was hefting a very solid wooden baseball bat.

She felt the spray of her own piss returned as Beth’s hair whipped round. The next second there was a blinding crack of pain in her thigh. Still gasping for breath, she felt the second vicious blow land squarely on her shin.

“Thank you Beth.” Miss Stapleton relieved the panting girl of the bat. “That was an excellent example of the different results you can achieve by changing the area you hit. Up here on our model’s thigh, which has plenty of protective fat, you’ve produced a superb bruise. While it looks good, I doubt there’s anything really damaged, and I’m sure you won’t have broken anything. On here the hand, Down here on the shin, with almost nothing protecting the bone, you can see a lovely compound fracture.”

As her vision came back, Bridget looked down to see, through her gasps, what Miss Stapleton meant. They’d never had such a hard practical. There’d been plenty of cuts, bruises and welts, but Angela’s tits had been the most serious injury before this. Now, as she felt her rectum slowly tearing, she could look down to see a jagged end of bone protruding from a gash in her shin. She was seriously starting to wonder if she’d survive the lesson.

After that Miss Stapleton had everyone up to try their hand with a couple of blows to the girl’s legs. The next few minutes were lost in a world of hurt for Bridget. While the boy’s nearly all competed to see who could be the first to break her femur, battering her thighs until skin and muscles were torn, the girls, with rather more evil subtlety, tended to go for knees, shins and feet, leaving her bones hopelessly shattered.

“Wow!” said Tracy, looking up at the girl hanging in front of them, as she sat down. Bridget’s bright red face and a strange wheezing through the mask the only display of the pain she must be in. “How long is she going to take to heal from that Miss?”

Bridget’s thighs were torn open. Every inch where muscle or bone didn’t protrude had been beaten black and purple. From her knees to her toes was just a mess. Her lower legs hung like sacks of bloody jelly, their bones reduced to splinters, occasionally twitching slightly as scraps of muscle spasmed.

Sometimes Miss Stapleton despaired at the lack of insight her pupils so often showed, and she couldn’t entirely keep the weariness out of her voice as she answered Tracy’s question.

“I think you needed to pay more attention in anatomical theory Tracey. You don’t seem to be getting what we’re doing here. I wonder if anyone else could answer your question?”

She glanced round, pleased to see some faces that at least showed intense thought, a view even excited surprise. Hopefully that meant some of them had managed to work out how this practical would end.

“Beth. What do you think will be happening now?” she asked.

Beth looked up at her naked and abused friend. Bridget’s body was very familiar to her, they’d regularly used each other as models when doing their homework - she’d even been down on that hairy muff when Jeff asked for a threesome and she’d brought Bridget along.. Now the plump young body was virtually unrecognisable, and she thought she knew what that meant.. Trying not to look too confident, she answered the teacher - but the hours of study with the pain-slut, now mutilated and impaled before them all, had given birth a solid grounding in torture theory, and she reckoned she knew the likely fate of someone in Bridget’s condition.

“The model’s legs are beyond recovery, they’d have to be amputated. Then there’s the anal hook. After holding up her weight for so long it’s almost certainly ripped open her bowels and might even be pressing into her diaphragm, that could explain her odd breathing. Even if it hasn’t her belly will be flooding with shit.” she started to explain.

“And what does that mean?” prompted her teacher.

“This model’s not going to survive. I think this is going to be a snuff demonstration.”

Even Bridget registered that. There wasn’t much pain from her legs, probably her nerves were severed, but her belly was becoming a bloated torment. Head hanging down, she was sure she could see, past her mangled chest, still so odd without a pair of that young tits, her already plump stomach starting to swell, hiding the ruin of her legs from her. The news she’d been turned into a snuff-bunny didn’t come as much of a shock. She and Beth had discussed being snuffed often enough, now she was finding out what it was like.

“Well done Beth!” the teacher gave her a big smile before continuing. “We will indeed be snuffing our model before the end of this lesson. Do you know if she has any particular dislikes?”

Dangling like a trapped fish on her hook, Bridget half-hoped her friend wouldn’t answer the question truthfully. They’d certainly discussed their hopes and fears when they came to be snuffed enough times, and Beth knew her better than anyone. Bridget was honest enough to acknowledge, if the roles had been reversed, that she’d tell the truth about Beth, the whole point was to take a snuff-bunny out in the cruellest manner possible.

“Scat and drowning.” Beth answered, firmly. “I know she’s never licked an arsehole, and she even struggles with a throat-fuck.”

“Let’s hope you’re brewing a good turd for your friend then.” Miss Stapleton commented, with a chuckle.

Beth really didn’t hold back, thought Bridget, and even the smell of shit makes me want to heave!

Before resuming the lesson, Miss Stapleton examined the snuff-bunny carefully, squeezing and prodding, seeming to take particular pleasure in jabbing Bridget hard in the guts. She moved to grab something from a drawer before talking to the class again.

“As you can see her stomach’s swelling quite badly now. That’s caused by the contents of her bowels mixing with her guts and giving off lots of gas. If we just left her the pressure would probably snuff her anyway. Although pretty nasty for the snuff-bunny, it’s not a terribly dramatic way to go, so won’t be doing that today.”

Miss Stapleton casually grabbed a knife and jabbed it into Bridget’s bloating stomach, twisting it round before pulling it out again, releasing a blast of foetid air. Bridget almost felt relief, as her swollen insides deflated.

Her relief didn’t last for long. Seeing the knife blade disappear into Bridget’s belly reminded more than one of her classmates of a tool they’d examined only a couple of weeks ago. It was Amber, practically bouncing out of her seat, who attracted their teacher’s attention first.

“Miss, miss!” she chirped, as soon as Miss Stapleton pointed at her raised hand. “Can’t we try out those mega darts you brought in to show us?”

Miss Stapleton paused. They were from her own personal collection and she hadn’t intended them to be part of this lesson. Still, the whole purpose was to encourage her pupils’ imagination and ingenuity.

“Okay everyone.” she agreed - certainly a popular move. “But just one each, and don’t aim for the ribs or neck, if you snuff her early you’ll fail the class.”

“Miss!” it was Amber again. “How about her face?”

“Only if you know you’re a good shot.” Miss Stapleton advised. “It would be really easy to miss and hit her neck or temple.”

Bridget had handled those darts, she and Beth had been giggling as they pretended to throw them at one another. Several ounces in weight and with a barbed tip, the two girls had speculated whether they’d be worse going in or coming out. Now she was about to find out!

The darts proved as bad as she had imagined. Most students aimed for the stomach or bottom, her layer of fat proving ideal for the darts to sink right into. Bridget jerked wildly with the pain, but the barbs held firm, her struggles only twisting them painfully under her skin. A few adventurous souls did aim at her face, but Bridget was squirming wildly on the rod impaling her arse, and no one came close.

“Not bad.” acknowledged Miss Stapleton, after the last of her pupils had taken a shot. “A good solid cluster in her stomach. If our model didn’t have such a good roll of fat you would have noted a pretty spectacular reaction from skewering her liver. Something like this one where James managed to land in her clit.”

As Miss Stapleton said these words, she reached over and yanked James’ dart out. Bridget convulsed like twenty-thousand volts had been sent through her body. She hadn’t missed James’ dart going in, she’d heard her classmates clapping while she was jerking with the pain, but it was nothing to the agony that now lanced through her cunt. The barbs did their job, ripping the sensitive little head of her clit wide open as they were torn free.

“There you go James.” said Miss Stapleton, holding out the dart to the grinning lad. “A little memento of your last practical.”

“Do you think you could do better miss?” asked James, as he took the dart from her.

The teacher looked up at her demonstration snuff-bunny, a calculating look on her face.

“There are two darts left, aren’t there? I think there’s something I can show you. Take off her handcuffs James.”

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.