EXTREME WARNING. This is intended for persons of 18 years of age or above. If you are not 18 then go away.

EXTREME WARNING. This story contains descriptions of violence, snuff, eroto-cannibalism and sexual acts. Do not read if these subjects are likely to offend.

 EXTREME WARNING. This is an erotic fantasy, not to be confused with reality.


Please do not reproduce in any form for profit without permission from author.


A year or two back I posted a couple of stories to the net, and amongst the replies was one from a rather interesting and mysterious lady. She was obviously foreign: her English was difficult to read, and her grammar was perplexing.

But her ideas were dynamite.

Until now, she hasn't published any of her work. But I've encouraged her to post a couple of her stories on a "test" basis, to see what response they get.

Before you judge these stories, please keep in mind that what you're reading here is my "translation" of her original stories. 

Finally, for all those of you who think she's just a figment of my imagination, and to prove that she has somewhat of an exhibitionist streak, I include a link to her picture.

Hopefully this will inspire all budding erotic authors to the belief that there are some great rewards to posting stories to the net...




Meat Girl of the Week

“Ladies and gentlemen, we're now entering the butchering complex, the heart and soul of GW. It may look harmless, but please take it from me, it's not. And I know. So please listen carefully to the safety announcements. Keep behind the yellow lines at all times. Stay close to me and don't touch anything unless I say that you can. Can I also ask that you keep your lab coats fastened during processing as GW Meat Production can't be responsible for any mess on your clothes. Now, as I've already explained, we don't normally allow visitors to see the butchering equipment in operation, so count yourselves very lucky. The only exception is this, our Super Special Tour with life-demonstration of full processing.”

Caroline smiled at her joke.  It was a strange phrase.


She'd always been fond of irony.

Life demonstration indeed!

She knew exactly what it meant. By the end of the tour, she would be transformed into steaks of cooked meat. Not surprising really. After all, producing meat was what meat production companies were all about.

It wasn't a prospect that worried her. In fact, she was quite proud. There was so much to anticipate! She could already imagine ribald comments from the customers about the taste of her meat - should she live long enough to hear such things, of course. There would be such wonderment at seeing a beautiful girl being transformed into sizzling cutlets.

And there was always the sex. She couldn't pretend that this didn't interest her too.  Being cooked was the ultimate sexual experience. And everything was going according to plan.

For instance, there were more men than women on this tour. Men, in her experience, always tended to take a more active interest in what was going on. She'd seen that herself the previous evening when she'd been exposed during the final round of voting, spread eagled for the customer's close inspection. The memory induced a dull burning sensation in her love tunnel and within her buds. How arousing that had been!

Oh yes!

Far more men than women that stopped before her, wanting to examine her.

Caroline hadn't been surprised by this. No. Not at all. Why should she have been?

They liked her: the men. Of course they did. Her body was well shaped, especially after the force feeding of recent months. She hadn't liked that at first. It had seemed almost as if... almost as if they were treating her as... as a child. But how it had transformed her! Her figure was now more feminine than it had ever been. Her bust, for instance, had grown enormously.  She had to wear a special bikini top to support it. Involuntarily she caressed her oversized jugs, cupping her new breasts with the palms of her hands. She played with the erect buds, teasing them until they were hard.

She knew she looked good.

The best!

After all, only last week she'd received her final assessment from the chief of the resort himself, Mr. GW. He'd looked her over very carefully, making her bend and stretch, forcing her to pose in all kinds of weird and wonderful positions. Then he'd felt her with his hands, not just in one or two places as had happened in the other examinations, but everywhere, nothing had escaped his touch. He'd held her large breasts in his hands, squeezing them and making them bounce. He'd touched between her legs, pinched her butt cheeks, and her thighs and calves. Finally, he'd prodded her with his instruments, checking for water retention, for fat content, verifying the quality of her muscle fiber, and so much more.

He was most particular.

As he'd told her, the grading procedure was all there was to stop customers being defrauded, and so it had to be very carefully regulated.

At the end of the assessment, he'd declared Caroline to be prime grade A.  All girls at GW were branded at maturity with the letter matching their grade. Only the best received an 'A'. Caroline wore her letter with pride. It pleased her that everyone could clearly see it branded upon her buttocks.

It proved that she was the best there was.

But the grading was simply the beginning. After that came the competitions. Only a girl who won a competition could ever be a Meat Girl. And after the competitions came the training.

Again Caroline smiled, this time remembering the previous evening and how she'd been prepared for the big event today.

Mr. GW had come down to the stable himself, surrounded by his cronies and assistants. He'd told her how she'd topped that week's poll. Had she any idea what that meant? Caroline had had a very good idea but she'd shaken her head because she wanted to hear him say it.

He'd smirked. It was her privilege to be Meat Girl of the Week, he'd explained. But first she must be prepared. And so she would be given the cleansing enemas.


How her back, her cheeks and her special hole still burned from them!

It was a pretty feeling that had aroused her more than she cared to admit.

But hey! What was she thinking? She had a crowd to please! “Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce you to today's meat-girl?” she joked.

The people around her murmured contentedly, just as Caroline had hoped that they would. They were curious, again, just as she'd hoped, jostling for the best positions. “Who is she? Where is she?” they chanted.

Caroline posed for them, blushing slightly, curtseying and blowing kisses into their midst.

“Why, it's me, ladies and gentlemen,” she grinned.

The crowd murmured again in approval, confirming what Caroline had thought, that she'd done a good job in preparing them.  

How had she known? How could she tell?

Easy to answer, that one.

It was always a good sign when customers started taking liberties, and that's what had happened today. Earlier in the tour, one or two men had gone beyond the usual hungry glances that all the guides received, and had cheekily lifted her little brief loincloth, just to verify that her mound was smooth, as had been promised in the resort's color brochure. What were the words? "Closely shaved and bald, just like a little girl."

“Only depilated girls will please you. So book a grade A for your personal pleasure…”

Caroline sighed. That brochure! She didn't want to think about the brochure. Thinking about it made her sad, and she didn't want to be sad. The brochure reminded her of her friend Shannon and she didn't want to think of Shannon.

Shannon had posed for it.


Shannon had been overjoyed when she'd been selected to be its model.

"Imagine," Shannon had babbled enthusiastically. "Of all the girls on the resort, of all the girls they could have chosen, they chose me. Imagine that!"

"What will you have to do?" Caroline had asked.

"Be beautiful!" had been Shannon's smug reply.

And she had been beautiful. Her naked body had been daubed with paint, different colours for each of her body parts. The idea was to illustrate to potential customers the various cuts of meat they could be purchase. And so she'd posed for it. She'd been a picture, every inch of her skin covered in paint. The session had gone well.

Maybe, one day, long after she'd been eaten, her pictures would be worth a small fortune. For instance, Caroline had heard that there were collectors that paid big money for brochures from the big meat companies. There were fairs at which they were traded; conventions and bulletin boards where all the gossip was shared.

Ah well, today she would see Shannon for the very last time. That was the reason the brochure made her feel sad.

Caroline sighed again. She mustn't allow herself to become depressed. After all, she'd enjoyed her life at the resort, not just that, but also the company of the other girls. It had been like a holiday camp, nothing much to do, just eat and sleep and be fucked from time to time.

Of course it was unsettling when girls she knew and had grown fond of suddenly disappeared, just as she would disappear today, but there were always others. One friend soon substituted another. No sooner did one girl vanish, than a new friend replaced her.

That was the way it was in a Meat Production Plant.

Ah well.

But best of all, she liked her job as a tourist guide. That had been a real bonus. It had given her something to fill her mind with. Through it, she'd discovered all those places the other girls knew about but had never seen. There was the hill of punishment where girls were taken to be slow hung, often left for hours until they finally asphyxiated. Caroline had also discovered the pass of crosses where crucifixion took place on Friday afternoons. She knew about the Farm where human cattle were bred and the stable area, where girls were force fed.

These places had become second homes to her. In fact, being honest, the resort was her home. She couldn't remember life anywhere else. Where had she been, prior to being at the farm? She had no idea.

That brought her to her final reason for having enjoyed her time at Mr. GW's resort.

It was all she knew.

What else was there? Was there a somewhere else? She didn't know.  All she knew was that something at some time had been done to her mind and that the whole reason for her existence was to serve as meat.

This was her destiny.

Not that everyone was happy here, one or two weren't. At their last stop, for instance, on the “hill of punishment”, they'd watched the slow-hanging of a wild red-haired girl who'd tried to flee. Apparently, she hadn't been swallowing her vitamin tablets. One of the trainers had caught her secretly spitting them out. That, it seemed, explained why she wasn't tame.

The bitch! She deserved everything she got!

Her agonies had been prolonged by an official with a broom handle. He'd stuck it between her legs, using it to support the weight of her body, lifting her up with it to give her the opportunity to breathe. Then, once she'd recovered her breath, he would lower both it and her, and the noose would tighten again about her neck.

"Look how prettily she kicks," Caroline had explained to the folk on her tour. "See how her breasts jiggle and shake, how her whole body struggles for your pleasure. Isn't she every man's dream? Isn't she your dream? So, my friends, if you wish to play with yourself at her expense, then please feel free. I'm sure she'd like that."

The official had lifted her again, pressing the broom handle deep inside her and hoisting her from below. She'd gasped, clutching her breath, squeezing hard upon the broom.

Several of the men had openly masturbated; one or two of the women too. "Some think that hanging is a fast death," Caroline had told them, hesitating for a moment. One of the customers wanted to touch her, a slim, muscular young man, with an Asian appearance; his eyes were folded in that Mongolian way. She caught her breath. The man was tugging at her loincloth, feeling inside. She smiled nervously. "Not so. It's not a fast death at all. This girl was hung up during the tour I did this morning. As you can see, she's still alive, still suffering. It's a little known fact that women climax more often during a slow hanging than any other punishment. Watch her pussy, how it clings tenaciously to the broom handle, how wet the end of the broom is becoming. Notice how the official rotates the handle slowly within her, even when everything else seems to be still. The keyword is slowly. Remember that. She will be made to perform and suffer public orgasms until the last tour of the day. Only then will she be allowed to die."

Someone tapped Caroline on the arm, bringing her back from the hill of punishment to the present. "Is it really going to be you?" he asked. It was the man that had touched her that afternoon. He seemed totally phased that it was to be Caroline. He couldn't resist touching her, lifting her loincloth again and caressing her mound, just as he'd done before. "Are you really going to be our Meat Girl?"

God. What was it with this guy?

He couldn't stop touching her. This was the third time now. The first time had been the previous day when she'd been on display, bound to the cross, hoping that people would vote for her. She remembered him particularly because although she'd been unable to escape him, he hadn't touched her callously, in the uncaring way customers usually did touch helpless women on the resort. Rather, he'd done it gently, taking care to steam her up.

On each occasion he'd touched her, there had been nothing for him. His cock had remained firmly in his trousers.

So what kind of guy was this?

She'd dreamt about him during the night. In fact, she'd fallen asleep caressing her pearl with him in mind, and, when she'd woken that morning, there had been his wetness between her legs. 

So here he was, probing her again. Exhilaration filled her soul. Maybe he would show her his cock this time. Maybe he would make her final wish come true. Maybe he would screw her up. That would be a very pretty and beautiful gift, given that it would be her final time.

Everybody watched as his perky finger slid between her beauty lips, testing to discover how tight she was. They could all see everything. Her loincloth was barely large enough to cover her pussy.

Some of the others, after watching him for a while, mustered up the courage to touch her oversized bust, playing with her barely concealed breasts, testing to see whether they were real. Caroline felt flattered by this because it wasn't usual for customers to prove their meat before they were given permission. Generally they were either too shy or too distracted.

She swallowed hard. “Before I go on, I shall explain the butchering procedure to you.”

Some of the more impatient customers seemed disgruntled by this. They looked up from her breasts. “Only an explanation?" they complained. "Buuuh! That's not what we were promised!”

Caroline tried to calm them down. “No ladies and gentlemen! You misunderstand me. There'll be far more than explanations. Today, you'll witness a full demonstration of our meat process, from beginning to end. But before we do that and I demonstrate the butchering procedure to you, we usually provide a little entertainment. I'm sure you'd appreciate a little fun with your dinner.  Wouldn't you like the opportunity to check for yourselves the quality of the food? Well...? Do I have to spell it out? I am your dinner. I'm on the menu today."

Some of the crowd appeared confused by this. Maybe Caroline did need to spell it out. It seemed they hadn't read the brochure properly. What kind of fun? There had been nothing written about a gang bang.

“Enjoy your dinner.”  That was all that had been written alongside the smiling pose of the centerfold.

Dear God. Poor Shannon!

Caroline continued to explain, catching her breath. "There are no children here: just adults. If you want to take a closer look at your meat, then you can. If you want to screw up your meat, you can do that too. This is a broad minded establishment. There are no restrictions on the kind of things you can do. What's more, as we're running a little early, we have plenty of time. So, if a number of you want to use the meat, indeed, if everyone wants to use the meat, that's not a problem. In fact, to accommodate all of our customers here today, we have a second girl who will also be available. Think of her as a gift from the management.”

It was show time.

Caroline quickly took off her bikini top and loincloth, giving her the appearance of a native girl. She was impatient to show her beauty and to hear the reaction.

She wasn't disappointed.



“Nice tits, pretty boobs,” she heard.

She danced about to accentuate the advantages and sexuality of her body.

“Pretty firm ass.”

She was flattered by what she heard, and also, she had to admit, aroused by being under such a claustrophobic microscope.

“Turn around, turn around,” the audience cheered, “show us your grade, show us your grade!”

At first Caroline didn’t understood what they were asking. Then she realized that they wanted to see her brand mark. She turned around obediently, bending over, proudly presenting it to her audience. They couldn't miss it. The brand mark on her butt was the size of a man's palm, black and scarred. 

“It's an A, it's really an A,” they cheered inanely. Her ass had also met with approval.

Flushed with the evidence of such overwhelming approval, Caroline's heart softened. She was consumed with appreciation for all Mr. GW had done for her. How could she remain angry any longer by the continuous force feeding she had endured? She couldn't.  How could she regret the discipline and the training? Where the anger had been before, now there was only gratitude. The feeding had transformed her into a perfect shape., every man's dream.

And not only that.  Every aspect of her appearance had been improved. Her brown-red hair had grown long and had been perfectly groomed. The permanent make up had been especially designed for her by one of Mr. GW's artistes and then tattooed to her face, fitting her personality completely.

They had transformed her into the perfect woman. How could she possibly complain?

When  Mr. GW had inspected her, he'd been both satisfied and content.

“A pretty piece of meat,” he'd told his entourage. They'd been wearing white coats and carrying clipboards, carefully making notes. “I look forward to seeing whether she tastes as good as she looks. Reserve me a piece of her butt.”

Caroline sighed, You couldn't get better than that. In his position, Mr GW could afford to be choosy about the butt he ate!

She threw her clothes into the disposal chute, they wouldn't be needed again, and walked naked across to the first point of interest on her tour. It was a stainless steel table that looked like a cross between a baby carriage and a gynecological examining chair. It also resembled a tram, being on wheels that were located into tracks in the floor.

She stood behind it, waiting for everyone to gather around. Only then did she continue with her spiel. “This is where the fully automatic butchering process begins," she said with a hushed voice. "The tracks you see in the floor go right through the factory. They're one hundred and twenty five yards in length, and they take the girl to be butchered, me, through all the various stages of meat preparation. At each station you’ll notice a special control panel. All you have to do is press the green button in the center of the panel to start the procedure for that part of the process.”


She smiled. “And now, before things get too serious, some fun. Come on, who's bold enough to play with the food?”

They looked at each other, hesitating, no one wanting to make the first move. Caroline looked from one to the next. What were they waiting for? Where was the Asian man that had pleasured her earlier? Perhaps he would start the ball rolling. Where? He was nowhere to be seen. She tried to encourage them by lying on the ground next to the stainless steel trolley and spreading her legs, cupping her breasts and offering them her body. They were appreciative, that was obvious, but nobody wanted to get involved.

Maybe they were shy.

After all, there were so many men and only one naked woman. That must be daunting, almost like stepping forward to participate on the stage of a live sex club. She'd heard that customers were usually a little reserved at the beginning.  Breaking the ice was always the hardest part.

But even so, she was disappointed. “Don’t fret," she sighed. She'd been hoping for lots of pretty fucks. She'd hoped that the sight of her naked body would incite them. "It doesn't matter. There'll be more possibilities for fun later on the tour.”

She smiled and mounted the special steel chair, taking her time and lifting her legs several times, making sure everyone got a good view of the puffy lips between them. She knew that her last ride had begun and wanted to steam them up.

She lay on her back with her legs in the stirrups lifting her ass once or twice until she was comfortable. She extended her arms to the side of her body, placing these too in special restraints. The steel was cold upon her back and shoulders.

“Would one of you gentlemen please be a dear and fix my arms and legs?” she asked, praying that someone would conquer their shyness. But then, suddenly, to her pleasure, the young Asian man stepped forward, pushing through the crowd. It seemed he'd needed to pee. That's where he'd been.

“I would like to do that,” he told her with a smirk.

Thank God!

“That's nice," she smiled back. "My name's Caroline. May I introduce you to the others?”

He nodded. “I'm Ken. Ken Yamamoto.”

"Thank you, Ken."

So she'd been right about him being Japanese.. She'd always liked Japanese customers because their fantasies were more interesting than the typical American guy. And when she'd watched other girls being processed, she'd noticed that they were gentler, taking good care of the girls

“May I introduce Mr. Ken Yamamoto to you,” she said to the crowd. “As you've just heard, he's volunteered to give me some help.”

She spoke again to Ken in a whisper, wondering whether he would notice her desire.

“Please will you tie my knees to the stirrups and fix my elbows with these cuffs.”

Ken wasn't a man who needed to be told twice. He took a firm hold of her arms and tugged each of them towards an iron post into which a leather cuff had been laced. He wrapped the cuffs around her arms just above the elbows and buckled them tight, threading the surplus leather through a special loop. Caroline was now able to move her lower arms up and down, but she could no longer lift her body. It was held down by the cuffs holding her upper arms.

She smiled at her captor, encouraging him on, but Ken didn’t need much encouragement. He seemed to know what he was doing, moving into the space between Caroline's legs and pulling each of her legs in turn through the stirrups, fastening them in place, with her knees wide apart.

His face was stern and concentrating upon what he was doing.

“He must have a perfect view of my pussy,” Caroline thought. “I want, I wish, I hope he will screw me up.” She wiggled her loins as much as the restraints would allow. She did it automatically, testing to see how much movement he'd left her.

Ken watched critically as she did so, and then, unsatisfied by what he saw, he unfastened her legs. He'd allowed her too much slack, he decided. So he refastened her a second time, only this time much more tightly.

“It's not the intention to immobilize the meat,” Caroline muttered cautiously, mainly for Ken's benefit, fearing that he would want to tighten her arms the way he was tightening her legs. “The meat should be able to twitch. As you watch, it should be obvious that what you are seeing is real, including the pain of the meat. Nothing is faked. The meat you'll be served will be absolutely fresh.”

The words were terrifying, but despite this, Caroline had no fear of losing her composure at the crucial moment. She'd been trained, taught exactly what to expect and how to cope with it. For so long she'd been prepared to fulfill her destiny, and now that the moment was finally here, there was no way she was going to disappoint.

In fact, she felt pity for the other women at the resort, her old girlfriends who were missing out. There was no chance of them becoming meat until at least the following week, probably longer. How sad! Only her friend Shannon would accompany her to the dinner table today: Shannon, who had so wanted to be impaled and roasted alive.

Caroline wiggled her ass cheekily. Ken was still between her legs. There was no way he was going to give his place to anybody else. Caroline noted with pleasure that the sight of her bald pussy was causing a lump in his trousers. It was now very obvious how much he wanted to screw her.

She took a deep breath. "Ken, I'm not sure whether you heard, you ere outside when I told the others. On all our Super Special tours, guests are invited to play with the dinner. Think about it. Won't it be a beautiful experience to play with your food before you taste it?”

As she'd already discovered, Ken wasn't like the others. He wasn't one to be shy. No sooner had she spoken than he took off his trousers, exposing his erection to the crowd.

There were some oohs and aaahs, Caroline noted with irritation, for she couldn't see a thing. With her body held down by the straps around her arms, his cock was invisible to her. Was this some kind of terrible torture, some Machiavellian torment? She struggled to look, straining to lift her head, but failing. She could only see as far as his waist.

She noticed the incredulous expressions of the women, how their mouths dropped open and they glanced at each other in wonder. What had they seen? Something unusual, for sure. She could feel the caress of his knob touching her lips and beauty bud, pressing against and stretching her. She shivered in anticipation and arousal, thinking of the disbelieving looks of the other women.

She didn't have to see him to know that he was ready for her, but those questioning looks were making her anxious, also very wet. What had they seen? How big was he? She had no idea of either his girth or size, but surely he must be enormous to make those women gasp like that.

She smiled nervously. “There's some lubricant, over there," she coughed. "If you want to use it, of course. You don't have to, of course. But it might make my body more comfortable... for you, I mean."

Ken stared back at her for a moment, his eyes firm and unblinking. Then he reached his decision and took the jelly bottle, plunging the nozzle into Caroline’s pussy and squirting the grease into her vagina.


Caroline sucked in breath, gasping in tense surprise as the cold gel filled her up, flooding her insides, creeping back through her insides as far as her cervix. She hadn't meant for him to use it quite so liberally, but maybe it was for the best. Better too much than too little.

Ken put the gel down and placed his hands upon her thighs, steadying himself. He was ready.

She waited.

His groping penis was at her entrance. Her sex was wide open, her beauty lips parted. Ken would have no difficulty in penetrating her. He would need no guide telling him what to do.

“Nice to meet you, Caroline,” Ken laughed. He was happy and glad, smiling into her eyes. He thrust into her with one deep merciless stroke, his invading cock squirting jelly over them both, covering his belly and Caroline's thighs.


Caroline's body tensed and her eyes opened wide. There was a monster inside her. A huge, invading monster!

What Caroline hadn't been able to see, what Ken had deliberately hid from her both the previous day and earlier on the tour, was that he had a cleft between his glans and the shaft of his circumcised penis, like an extra tool fixed to its end.  It resembled a red headed mushroom, emphasizing the shape of his glans.

This was the reason for the crowd's consternation.

He drove into her a second time, like a piston in a tightly fitting cylinder. “Ahh,” Caroline cried, surprised by the suddenness of his attack, “Oh God, thank you. That feels so good!”

Ken began pumping in and out continually now, encouraged by Caroline’s pinching pussy. She realized with disappointment, from the speed of his strokes, that this was to be a quickie. That was a shame. This was her last fuck and she badly wanted to enjoy it, whereas, he, on the other hand, was simply after fast relief. Nevertheless, she was soon caught up in the whirlwind of his strokes, becoming aroused to her own unexpected surprise.

“Ufff,” she moaned, her mind consumed with the pleasure of the moment.

"Ufff, ufff.”

She was supposed to be talking, explaining, but how could she while Ken was thrusting into her with hammer and tongs. This was good. Better than good. The only thing that was bugging her was that she wasn't able to hug or wrap her legs about him, not with the way she'd been fastened into the butchering car. Even so, perhaps... She tried to push back as best as she could, to give him more fun, knowing that he'd come soon, hoping that after his initial relief he  would pleasure her again at a more leisurely pace.

“Uff, ufff, uff.”

Ah, he was slowing. Ken was slowing down.

Once again she tried to speak; conscious that this was her last tour and that therefore she wanted to do well.

"Over there, on the left! Uff!  Harder! " she hissed, finding herself talking both to the audience and to Ken, both at the same time. "Oh dear, where was I?”

Should she persevere or just to give up her explanations until he was finished?

Bang, bang, bang. Oh dear. It had been a false dawn. He was off again, once more thrusting into her dripping vagina. There was no way now that she could continue what she was supposed to be saying, at least for the moment.

And so, instead, she concentrated of his thrusts. Doing this, she could feel the shape of his exceptional cock, the full extent of the protruding mushroom resting between her lips at the end of each stroke, teasing her, playing with her. Frustrated, she tried to pull him back inside, using her muscles to constrict his cleft and suck it into her body. She wanted his mushroom inside her, filling her up, making her hot.

“Perhaps I might strangle his mushroom. God, he's teasing... Dear... If I choke it and turn it purple, maybe it will swell within me into a huge uncontrollable tumor that will never be able to escape." She tried to grab hold of him, but she couldn't get any purchase. He was too strong. Her muscles rolled feebly over the cleft as it moved in and out, faster and faster, beginning to twitch now, announcing his eruption.

Feeling him about to come, she changed her tactics and tried to bump her torso into him, timing her movements to his thrusts, hoping to achieve her own orgasm, hoping to be able to come, but in vain.

She was too late.

He was about to climax. Ken came to a halt, tensing and crying out loud as he teetered on the edge of his orgasm. And then he came. She felt his seed spraying into her in rhythmical splashes, striking a cervix which welcomed it eagerly. But no sooner had he begun, it seemed, than he was finished, and he was pulling out, the final splatterings of his honey spitting from his spluttering cock.

She was disappointed. Typical! So like a man!

But to her surprise, he didn't seem to be finished at all. He stood between her legs, his huge erection as hard and beautiful as ever, his sperm dripping from its end.

“What’s about a ……?” he gasped, breathing heavily, prodding her again with his full sized cock, impaling her again, pushing it back in.

Caroline saw his ecstatic face. What was going on? His cock was as thick and as hard as before. She could tell as soon as she squeezed upon it that it wasn't getting soft. It was as hard as it had been before. God. What was he? Superman? Every man she'd ever known had weakened and grown flabby after he'd come. But Ken... Could it be that perhaps...?

She squeezed him as hard as she could, trying to encourage him with her body, smiling and making low provocative moaning sounds.

It worked. He got the message.

“Can I continue playing with my dinner?” he asked drolly, smiling at her. "Do you think it would be allowed, or would it be considered greedy to do it twice?"

She nodded noncommittally, not wanting to appear too eager, but praying that he would. “Naturally," she shrugged. "Feel free. Please. If that's what you want.”

However, to her disappointment, he didn't respond to her invitation. Instead, he withdrew, leaving behind a horrible empty feeling in her shrinking love tunnel. What had she said? What had she done? Why wouldn't he fuck her again? Had she overestimated him?

“Take all the time you need," she added hopefully. "This is a Super Special Tour. Time doesn’t matter…”

She felt his hands upon her ass cheeks, parting them. What now?

“Come on, baby, lift your back!” he ordered, looking again for the jelly bottle.

He spread her cheeks with one hand, holding them open, while with the other he inserted the spout of the bottle into her ass, pushing the nozzle deep inside. She knew what to expect this time. She groaned in anticipation, reminded as much by the cleansing enemas of the previous day as by the sensation of the jelly squirting into her pussy a few minutes before.

She felt his probing finger entering her hole, slowly extending her tight sphincter. It was immediately followed by a second one, pushing inside. She kept tensely still in silent expectation. She'd never been butt fucked before. How would it feel?

He spread the grease around the entrance of her hole with his finger, covering his erect penis too.

Caroline couldn’t stop herself from trembling, aware of what would next happen, of the sheer size of the monster that would soon be deep inside her ass.

“And here we are,” Ken sighed, slowly drilling his masculinity into her resisting hole.

Caroline couldn’t stop herself from emitting a short cry. What was it? Surprise? No, not just surprise. She was being stretched, more so than she'd ever been before in her short life. With every inch he was intruding, opening her up, bloating her body. God. When would it stop?

Twice she convinced herself that she would burst if she took any more of his cock, but still he kept coming, and still she kept taking him. Finally, after the third time, when she was absolutely sure her ass was about to tear, she felt his lower abdomen touching her butt cheeks, telling her that there was no more. He was in as far as he'd go. Christ. What was this? What was she feeling? So difficult to describe. Pain? Lust? How could she possibly describe the sensation of being stretched?

She tried to convince herself that the feeling concentrating her mind was pleasure. But what a perverse pleasure to be so closely akin to agony. His cock began to move deep inside her, slowly but forcefully rocking in and out, the end of each stroke punching her cervix.

She tried to catch his penis for a second time, clinging to his cleft, and hey! Yes! This time she had success. She gathered all her strength and focused it upon her sphincter muscle, clenching the top of his dick, holding him inside her between her butts. He was caught be surprise the first time she did it, wanting to pull out but unable.

She had him!

He laughed, enjoying her kinky game.

“Ahh, that feels pretty,” he told her, increasing his own efforts, hindered rather than stopped by her efforts, pistoning in and out. “You're as tight as a virgin in a nunnery.”

His hands were upon her thighs, but unnecessarily so, for her legs were both fixed and splayed and she needed no support. So he began idly to play with her pearl, rubbing it with his thumbs, making her moan with pleasure. The pressure grew more intense as she gripped him more tightly, and Caroline threw her butt back and forth, searching for his rhythm before finally finding it, enjoying the wonderful sensations coming from both her ass and her beauty bud.

Her body swayed to the extent her shackles would allow. Both her arms and legs were pulling hard upon the cuffs and restraints, tugging upon them, straining, up and down and side to side as her orgasm grew inside her, finally overwhelming her.

Dear God.

She didn't notice that he was also coming, him for the second time, pouring his hot come into her, stuffing her with his semen. Christ! Her climax seemed to go on forever,  on and on, for an eternity even after he finally stopped pumping her.

“That was… gorgeous,” she groaned, gasping for air. She hesitated. What now? For he had withdrawn his huge erection from her ass and was now pressing it towards her head.

She looked up at him questioningly, remembering her role as a meat slave. “Should I lick you clean?” she asked, stretching at once towards his cock, ready to take it into her mouth.

She opened wide, pursing her tattooed lips, but at the last minute he pulled away. His toy of joy was getting flabby, and almost in embarrassment he pushed it back inside his trousers, closing the zipper.

Caroline sighed. Oh well! She looked around. Several of the men were playing with themselves, their purple cocks lifted in her direction. And each of the women had a hand inside their skirt of jeans. “Is there anybody who wants to play with the food?” she asked happily. But nobody seemed to be interested in fucking her again. Despite what they were doing, they were all more interested in what was to happen next than in fucking her.

Oh well!

"Okay, Ken," Caroline smiled, but she was secretly disappointed. "Would you be so kind as to press the green button on the control box for me?”

Ken did so, of course. And at once, there was a metallic click and three linked chains descended out of the gloom of the ceiling, long, thick and snake like. Only they weren't real chains, they were motor driven, high pressure hoses, navigated automatically by a special software program.

“Now you can watch my final cleansing,” Caroline taught the spectators, “As I'm sure you'll appreciate, hygiene is extremely important to everyone within the meat industry. Your food has to meet the highest standards before being declared fit for human consumption. These standards relate not just to the quality of the food, but especially to its cleanness. After all, I wouldn't like to think that anybody had become ill after eating me."

She closed her eyes for the water had begun to spray from several nozzles, cleaning her body of its dirt and perspiration. She screwed up her face as the jets of water hit it, washing out her ears, firing up her nose. The hoses lingered between her toes and between her legs, taking special care there, washing away all marks of the jelly and Ken's seed.

God, the water was hot!

As it came to the end of its program, she caught her breath, her body whole steaming and still dripping with water. But now something else. An automatic door opened on the other side of the room, opposite the main entrance. Another faint humming noise, the sound of a motor whirring.

What next?

Slowly the butchering car began to move, shifting of its own volition towards the open door.

“Please follow me, ladies and gentlemen,” Caroline called out, now resuming her role as a tourist guide. She was heading towards the door, her raised feet first, followed by her outstretched arms and then finally by her mass of wet tangled hair. “We're on our way to the next stage of the procedure!”

The car trundled slowly along the track and through the opened door, carrying Caroline as its captive passenger. The audience glanced at each other, shrugged and then followed her, most sticking sticky or monstrous cocks back into their clothes.

They glanced cautiously into the next room before entering it. It seemed quite similar to the one they were now in: white tiles on the walls and floor, another door on the far side. Only this room had more equipment: two grills one on either side of the tracks, and there was a raised platform over to the left.

A heavy black barrier lowered behind Caroline as soon as the stainless steel car had passed, preventing the others from following her into the center of the room. Instead, a small sign directed them along a small corridor and up a couple of steps. They climbed them and found themselves on the narrow platform looking down into the room.

To the edge of the platform was another barrier at about waist height, intended to keep them from getting too close to the machinery.

As they filed onto the platform, the car came to a stop between two enormous electric grills. For the first time they noticed that the grills were already turned on and obviously very hot.

One or two of the visitors wiped their brows or dabbed their cheeks. They could feel the heat of the grills from where they stood on the platform, so what must it be like in the center of the room, where Caroline was?

“Take a seat. Please, sit down,” Caroline called to up to them. The water from her dousing in the previous room was quickly evaporating from her skin. Such heat! “This is the room in which your teasers are prepared. Now... Please keep away from the barriers... Yes, you sir! Thank you. The company takes no responsibility for anything untoward happening to anyone climbing or leaning over them. And, of course we don't want anyone staining their clothes! Now, where was I? On each side of me you'll notice an electrical grill. Each one is heated to the correct temperature, and that means very hot! If you think it's warm where you are, imagine what it's like down here."

She'd barely finished this explanation than a new sound; more high pitched this time began to hurt their ears. Some put their hands to the sides of their heads, holding them tight. Robotic arms were moving down from a strange looking machine, fixed to the ceiling in the centre of the room, directly above Caroline.

“This apparatus is completely automatic," she yelled, so as to be heard over the whine. "The program was started when Ken pressed the button in the previous room, and now, having been started, nothing can stop it.” She hurried, knowing that she faced a race against time. What was about to happen would certainly reduce her capacity for lucid explanation.

The first mechanic arm touched Caroline’s skin, just beneath her left shoulder joint. It wrapped around her upper arm, looping what appeared to be a tourniquet around it and pulling it tight. A strap was tied about her neck, fixing it to the steel headrest. After that, the arm vanished as inexplicably as it had appeared.

Two more devices were now lowered, also appearing very much like arms. These moved more slowly, but evenly and precisely, one moving to each of her elbows, just beneath the tourniquet. Here was the source of the screaming noise. High action saws raced along the length of the arms, their tungsten teeth gnarling in menace.

As soon as the robotic arms were correctly positioned, they were automatically triggered into life. The saws upped a gear and pressed down onto Caroline's arms.

The audience suddenly went quiet. All eyes were directed on Caroline. She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together.  And then came the pain.

Only the sharpest of eyes could see the rapid movement of the screaming saws upon the robotic arms, but all ears could hear Caroline’s cry.

“Why didn’t they gag her?” one of the visitors asked his neighbor, snapping a furtive photograph of the shrieking Caroline. “It's so distracting!”

“Perhaps the noise doesn’t usually bother anyone," the neighbor replied. "There wouldn't normally be an audience in here.”

Both looked in silent fascination at the quivering Caroline, anticipating what would happen next. Her arms had fallen into long steel receptacles, her fingers still jerking and twitching. The robotic arms now having finished their work, snapped away from her shoulders, almost in a gesture of polite salute. The invisible blades continued to scuttle, ineffectually now, except that copious quantities of hot water gushed from some invisible hose, washing over them, cleaning away the blood and gristle.

Their place was taken by another set of arms, these having large pliers for hands  and noisy ratchets for wrists. The jaws of the pliers opened wide and grabbed Caroline’s severed limbs from the steel receptacles, dropping them on the grills, one on the left, one on the right.

The limbs fell onto the glowing roasters, hissing at the contact, the fingers closing into fists at the contact.

The audience watched it all, listening in silence to Caroline's continued crying.

Slowly Caroline’s face lost its tension and she opened her eyes, whimpering to herself. She looked in disbelief at the stumps where her arms had been. Dear God. She took several deep breaths in the way she had been taught, trying to calm herself down, trying to regain her composure.

There had been very little bleeding, of course, because of the tourniquets constricting her stumps. Saucers of red with small circles of grey twisted bone served as memorials to her arms. She turned her head to face the audience, tears running down her cheeks and opened her mouth in an attempt to speak, but she couldn't. Not yet. All that came out was a silent cry.

It took some time for her to regain her strength, to conquer the impulse to panic. “Sorry for that noise," she stuttered uncertainly. "Please, excuse my crying, but I'm inexperienced in pain.”

The smell of freshly roasted meat was filling the room, also the sound of spitting fat. “Ladies and gentlemen,” Caroline quivered, “Please don’t forget to turn the meat. It would be such a shame if my meat were to burn.”

One of the visitors took a fork and, leaning over the barrier, turned the pieces of Caroline’s arms, flicking them over.

“This is intended as a quickly cooked teaser,” Caroline whispered, thankful that her permanent makeup concealed how pale she had suddenly become. “You’ll find some cutlery besides the roasters.”

It was the shock, of course: only the shock. Mr. GW had warned her about that. "Some girl's are inclined to faint," he'd warned. "It can happen at any time. If it happens, it's nothing to fret about. You'll soon recover. After a few minutes you'll be as bright as a kitten."

While she recovered, the visitors crowded around the grills, obviously curious and hungry. Soon the more adventurous began cutting slices from Caroline’s roasting limbs, stuffing them greedily into their mouths and chewing slowly.

“Delicious!” they said, recommending that the others take a bite.

"Wonderful! Well done!"

Soon everyone was tucking into the meat, chewing upon it hungrily, and before long only bones and finger nails were left.

Caroline waited until they had finished and were dropping her smaller bones into a finger bowl before resuming her role as a tour guide.

“If everyone's finished, then we can continue,” she called out. "Who'd like to discover what's in the next room?"

When they all turned to look at her, she joked: "In that case, would someone please press the green button for me, because as you can see, I'm a little indisposed?”

Somebody did. Caroline didn't see who.

For with a faint electrical humming noise, almost like an electric car, the butcher's cart began to slide forward along its tracks towards the next door. She was away.

The door in front of her opened, and she passed through it, her audience following. They found themselves in a chamber that was in many ways similar to the previous one, certainly on initial inspection. It had the same tiled walls and floor, the same raised platform on which they must stand, the same black barrier protecting them.

But in other respects it was different. For a start it was larger, with a second entrance and exit, and a second set of tracks between them.

The cart came to a halt in the middle of its floor, again behind a steel barrier.

When all customers were seated and the murmur of voices had hushed, the armless Caroline continued.

"This room will usually process two women simultaneously," she explained. “It's all been a little light hearted up to this point, but look around you, this is where things get serious. This is the gutting room. As you probably know, this room has an important place in human butchery because it serves to mark an important legal distinction, between women and livestock. When the subject enters this room she is no longer legally viewed as "human"; she becomes what is legally termed, a "long-pig". Legally, once a woman is in this room, she's well on her way to becoming meat. There's no way back. Of course, here at GW-Meat Production, we don't take advantage of this distinction.  Some of our competitors are inclined to cut corners and apply lower standards of care in the gutting and slaughtering rooms, simply because they can, the rules of animal butchery apply. But not here at GW. This plant meets all modern humane standards through all stages of the butchering process.”

She spoke hurriedly, because, having been activated, the timer in the process control software was counting down the seconds. It wouldn't wait.

She glanced up at the clock on the wall. “We have very little time. Soon I won't be in any position to tell you what's going on, so I must get the explanations out of the way now."

As she spoke, the doorway to the second entrance opened and another trolley drove in, this one quite different in appearance to Caroline's, although, like hers it was manufactured from stainless steel. It had a platform on which a naked girl was fixed in a kneeling position, her wrists bound behind her back, her neck tied to a steel pillar at the front. These bindings kept her body in a horizontal position. Behind her, aimed directly at her ass, there was a long metal spit mounted upon an electric gear.

“May I introduce you to my girlfriend Shannon?” Caroline blabbed. “She'll be partnering me through the final stages of my slaughtering. As you can imagine, it's rather difficult to speak while your guts are being removed, but we hope that, where one long-pig may fail, two will succeed."

Shannon's trolley rotated several times in order to allow the audience to see her from all sides. Her body was supported at the waist by a strong forked structure and by a much narrower rest at the neck. Between these two supports her artificially enhanced breasts dangled freely. She'd been fastened into the device with her ass sticking in the air, a large "A" branded there, and her legs spread apart. This presented her bald cunt prettily to whoever might want to take advantage. Her lips were gaping wide open.

"Shannon will be giving you an authentic demonstration of live-spitting and complete impalement," Caroline declared, wincing at the stabbing pains emanating from her stumps. "She'll be roasted alive for your delectation, in one piece. For those who are interested, and there's usually one or two, the automatic spitting machine we're using today is the Jessica 6000, named in memory of the founder of this resort, Mr. Dolcett. Unlike its predecessors, the Jessica 6000 is completely automatic. No human intervention is required at all.  I wish I could tell you a little more about some of its special features, but time is beating us. No, I'm afraid I can't take any questions. But if you wish, you'll find brochures in the main reception area; just ask any of the on-site representatives."

Shannon came to a stop with her head facing the audience. If she raised her eyes she could just see them upon their raised platform. “Hi, I'm glad to meet you. As you know, my name is Shannon and I'm on the menu too. Excuse me for not greeting you properly, but as you can see, I've already been fixed to the spitting machine and I'm somewhat restricted."

She smiled to herself, mulling over a joke, then she teased her girlfriend cheekily. "I hope you enjoy my meat and that you agree I taste better than Caroline.”

Caroline tried to protest, but a metallic tube had appeared suddenly in front of her, almost out of nowhere. It had descended out of the ceiling silently, catching everyone unawares. Now, claws were grasping the sides of her mouth, pulling it open.

It was like being at the dentist, only worse. The tube was entering her mouth, smelling strongly of pine disinfectant. It slowed, searching for her throat, then, finding it, pushed into it, making her choke.


She could hear Shannon's warbling, sounding very near, and yet at the same time, also a long way away. She could hear her assuming the role of tour guide. “You’ll notice that the spit is moving towards me," Shannon was saying. "It's speed is controlled by the central software logic and by the electrical screw at the back of the platform. Any moment now it'll enter my pussy. That's a very special moment as I'm sure all the women guests here today will appreciate." Her voice wavered over the last syllable because the spit had made contact and was now parting her beauty lips. She was so wet that it slid in easily. An expression of exquisite delight flickered across her face.

"Don’t be jealous," she sighed. "There are opportunities for everyone here to have this kind of fun at the GW-resort. Pleasure is no object. For instance, you'll not want to miss our famous "spitting image" show in the long-pig pen, every afternoon at three o'clock.”

She let out a small gasp as the cold steel prodded her pussy, pushing further into it. Now she was irretrievable caught on the machine and obviously enjoying the experience. She expelled little sounds of delight as the spit slowly penetrated deep into her vagina.

But these sounds went unheard. They were drowned out under the sudden roar of a large motor kicking into action. This was part of a suction machine attached to the far end of the tube forcing its way down Caroline's throat. This had by now navigated its way down her gullet and was now entering her stomach.

Both girls were impaled, although in quite different ways.

But Caroline's plight was the more immediate. Her body began to twitch upon her car, looking like a Moroccan dancer in the throes of an erotic belly dancer. Her stomach heaved in and out, convulsing and jumping high into the air. Her ass wanted to play this game too. It jerked about, only kept down by the ties binding her neck and knees. Caroline was obviously in great pain. Her whole body was shuddering with intense cramps.

Those in the audience watched her quizzically. What was going on?

Between her lustful moans, Shannon explained it to them:  "Please excuse my friend Caroline," she said. "Caroline is quite unable to talk to you for the time being. She and I are showing different ways of gutting to you, demonstrating how far technology has improved in recent years. Caroline is being gutted. This is being done using an advanced technique called vacuum deintestinification. It's a very clean procedure, with no mess, and no need, you'll notice, to sew the long-pig up again. Her guts are sucked out through the tube, using strong suction and a tiny laser. Since her belly doesn't have to be cut, the meat has that aesthetic final appearance highly prized by connoisseurs. As I said, it's also very clean. When the gutting procedure is complete the internal abdomen area is thoroughly washed from inside. Take a look at the waste tank, where you'll see the effluent containing the remains of Caroline's intestines.”

As they did so, they saw the reddish fluid churning in the glass tank, pieces of Caroline’s bowels swirling about with long sausage like pieces of gut.

Suddenly Shannon’s facial expression dropped. “Oh,” she gasped, looking quite astonished. “Oh, I believe the spit has reached the end of my vagina! It has! Ouch! I can feel it biting against my cervix. Ouch! That hurts!”

Now it was Shannon's turn to be somewhat disconcerted. Her moans of pleasure changed in an instant to whimpers of pain. Dear Christ! She let out a loud yelp. Her ass was being merciless punished by the slow moving spit. Her face was a mask of pain.

Suddenly, the roar of the suction motor died, its holler became silence, and the storm in the glass tank calmed to a tranquil hush.  Shannon's cries instantly seemed louder.

"Oh my God!"

Caroline choked as the tube was finally extracted from her throat. It fell from her mouth, a few drops of blood dribbled down her chin. She  turned her head, needing to get a good look at her suffering friend.

“Suction is certainly the preferable method of gutting long-pigs in the modern day and age," she declared, eyeing her friend with empathy. "It's superior to the old fashioned method for a number of reasons. Both techniques are being demonstrated to you this afternoon, so you'll be able to see how far we've come in the last four or five years. There's less bleeding and, I can assure you, less pain too. Not only is suction faster, but it's also just as clean as the old tried and tested techniques. Once I've been fried, take a good look at my insides. See for yourselves how thoroughly my abdominal organs have been removed and the cavity has been washed. Of course, you can already get a sense." She smiled ironically. "Look how slender I've suddenly become!"

Indeed, her waist has become not just slender, but obscenely thin, waspish, and her belly had collapsed in on itself, virtually to nothing.  “There's no way back,” Caroline told the audience. “No long-pig has ever escaped the gutting room alive. Without my bowels, I'm living meat."

She glanced again towards Shannon, whose body was being rotated upon the trolley, so that the audience could get a good view of the spit penetrating her pussy. Once again, the woman with the camera snapped a few hurried shots.

"Unfortunately, Shannon is unable to speak to you herself," Caroline remarked. "The spit has penetrated her sex organs and is moving up towards her throat. As it pushed through the soft tissues of her body, it pushes the slippery intestines aside.  If we're lucky, it will miss her vital organs and she’ll be live-roasted. If not... well, let's not talk about that." She paused. "It'll be several minutes before the spit gets to her throat. When that happens you'll see the spit pop out of her mouth: quite a special sight! So, if anybody wants to make use of the time by having some fun with her, feel free, I'm sure she'll enjoy it. And even if not, well, you will.”

No one moved for several moments; everybody looked at everybody else, nobody wanting to be first. But then a huge man stepped forward, swinging under the barrier, introducing himself as Mark. He glanced nervously at Caroline in her little car. She was still alert and attentive despite all that had happened to her. And then he was behind Shannon, lifting his leg awkwardly over the spit so that he could stand astride her. He clasped her ass cheeks, touching and pinching them carefully, checking how firm they were.

It was a strange sensation, touching genuine "A" grade butt cheeks. He pushed them apart and with the help of the jelly mounted the girl, boring his dick into her ass.

He was desperately in need of release. He rode her like a mare, urging her on with slaps on her back, encouraging her to push back and impale herself, not just on him but also onto the spit. Mark smiled when he saw Shannon’s pussy twitching upon the spit, sucking onto it. She was obviously enjoying herself, the bitch!

“That’s a pretty feeling,” he shouted, pumping her with his long thick cock. “I can feel my iron rival screwing her too! I can feel it inside her!”

The spitted girl moaned in delight. “Oh dear God! Ahh, fuck me harder! Aahh, it feels so good, please fuck my brains out!”

She rode the pole forth and back, making her beauty lips slide along it, in and out, tearing and teasing at her pleasure bud.

But suddenly her pleasure evaporated in an instant. One second it was wonderful, the next it was gone. She spoke breathlessly with both lust and pain, mixed into a bitter sweet cocktail, “Ouch! What's that? I can feel the spit probing at the bottom of my stomach. God. It won't be long now. When the spit enters my stomach the machine will move to the next stage of its cycle and gut me. I'll try to talk for as long as possible. But first...”

Two syringes with long sharp needles sprang out from the bottom of the trolley, fixed upon automatic robot arms. Shannon saw them coming, so long, thin and deadly. Oh dear! They plunged into her nipples, puncturing them, plunging deep into her breast tissue. God, it hurt!

“Ah, how she twitches!” Mark gasped, thumping his cock against her, “What a beautiful feeling!”

It wasn't just the needles that she found painful, or even the thought of the needles,  it was the fact that they were pumping liquid deep into her breast tissue.  Shannon’s already swollen breasts began to inflate further, getting larger with every thrust.

 “That’s the automatic breast enlarger," Caroline stated enthusiastically. "It gives the meat that super special flavor. We use a mixture of spice and milk to achieving the ultimate spit-roast taste.”

She looked up towards the ceiling searching for something she thought would be there.  “I don't know... It should have happened to me too. I'm not sure why... I hope we don't have a malfunction.”

But barely had she spoken when a gantry descended from above with syringes set into the end of two hydraulic arms. Caroline's nipples hardened at once, popping out like bold raspberries, almost as if to welcome the long needles.

She closed her eyes and held her breath, waiting for the final contact, waiting... Her face tensed. And then they touched her, striking each of her nipples simultaneously. She shivered as the needles pierced her, sinking deep into her breasts.

For some moments nothing more seemed to be happening. But out of sight, pumps were forcing the special liquid down the tubes and into her breasts, slowly stuffing her boobs.

Both girls were whimpering now, their breasts becoming visibly larger, through a C cup to a D cup, larger still. Their tits protruded like big balloons. Caroline was particularly stunning with her armless torso, her wasp waist and now, her enormous quivering boobs.

“Doesn’t she look like a Greece goddess?” somebody in the audience murmured.

“It's a pity you can't feel this one's twitching cunt,” Mark joked back, still corking Shannon for all he was worth. "You wouldn't believe it. The breast enlargement is making her crazy. She's milking my dick like she was born to it, like a milking machine!”

“The pressure in my twins is becoming unbearable," Shannon gasped both with pain and pleasure. "They're so heavy! Much more and they'll burst! I know they will! What a pity I can't touch them. I'm sure I would climax at once.”

“It would be a gorgeous feeling,” Caroline agreed, obviously enjoying the improvement in her tits a little more than her friend. She was proud to have such enormous bosoms.

But Shannon's were driving her to distraction. “Please, hold my breasts," she implored. It was Mark's movements that were frustrating her, that were making her dangling boobs shake but without release. "Hold them in your hands. Please. Stop them from swinging. Please, just this one favor." Shannon was begging now, God, what was happening to her? But Mark only had one thing on his mind, and that was to bring his fuck to a speedy conclusion. Again he hit Shannon's butts with the palms of his hands, driving her like a horse, making her breasts shake about and swing even more. Dear God. And every minor correction on her part drove the spit even deeper into her, impaling her upon it, forcing it through her body. But she couldn't help it, couldn't stop. She was overwhelmed by her orgasm by now and everything was involuntary.

Mark groaned, and began jerking into her, shooting his load into her ass. He came quickly, too quickly, and hastily withdrew, tucking his contented cock back into his trousers and shrugging shyly at the watching crowd.

“That was great," he smiled bashfully, beating a retreat to the anonymity of the platform. "Imagine! Fucking a spitted girl! I've never had an experience like that! Though maybe another time I'll book a girl impaled through the ass and take her pain twitching cunt.”

One of the women in the audience, her eyes wide and glazed, her blouse partly unbuttoned and disheveled, took hold of his arm and leaned unsteadily against him for support. "Ummm," she murmured, rubbing the tops of her thighs together.

Meanwhile, the spitted girl continued slipping forth and back on the pole in a despairing struggle to keep her own orgasm alive.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Mark pointed to what she was doing. "Look at that!" he exclaimed. "The bitch!"


But now, after all the excitement of Mark's fun, the work of butchering the two girls resumed. First, it was Caroline's turn.

Just as had happened with her arms, two robotic arms now amputated her legs, the screaming saws scything through her flesh, just below her ass. The tourniquets were pulled tight first, restricting the blood flow, and then the saws began to cut. Suddenly, where there had been legs, now there were just round, red disks of meat with rings of sawn bone in the middle. The severed muscles twitched erratically, someone not having told them that their job was done, that their life was over.

Caroline’s face was filled with pain.  Her meat was visible at the stubs of each of her four severed limbs, and, of course, in that fifth place where women always show their meat: her tight, bald cunt.

Meanwhile, Shannon was not escaping the carnage. She yet had to be gutted. A circular saw sprang from below her prone body, rising phoenix like from a narrow recess in the machine upon which she was kneeling, rising steadily towards the unbroken skin of her belly.

She winced as the blade began to turn, picking up speed, faster and faster, its stuttering whine screaming hatred and bile. She sucked in her breath, pulling up her belly, protecting it for another few seconds. But then the inevitable happened. The blade cut through her skin, nicking a straight red line to one side of her belly button.

The saw worked up to her breast bone, and then back down to her pelvic bone, finally completing the circle, neatly cutting a large hole in her front. Everybody could see the pain in her eyes, the horror, and the final certainty of death. This was it.

The elliptical piece of belly flesh, including her belly button, fell down, and her bowels swiftly followed, sliding out in one turgid lump of slippery matter, vanishing into a yawning hopper that had opened to consume it.

A small rotating knife cleaned out the cavity, scooping out her ass and ripped through the remaining rectal gut and intestinal loop. The released tissue fell out of her, gravity fed, dripping down into the special hopper. Now her belly was completely empty.

There was another machine to sew up the gaping wound in her belly. With so much material having been removed from inside of her, the missing panel of belly flesh that had been cut out was no longer required. The sewing machine pulled the remaining belly flesh together, creating a tuck, keeping the flesh nice and taut.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ken stepping out onto the floor of the abattoir. Oh dear! With so much pain... couldn't he wait until... but no, he was approaching Caroline, announcing that he was after some "final fun".

Shannon had no idea what he'd done with his clothes, whether he'd removed them for a second time or whether he was still naked from before. The important point was that he was nude, and his huge erection, pointing upwards, was visible to everyone.

He untied the tape from around Caroline's neck, all that now held her in the trolley,  and picked her up, holding her limbless body in front of himself.

“You were a pretty girl,"   he told her, emphasizing the word "were", staring steadily into her eyes. Slowly he lowered the remains of her featherweight body onto his cock, sliding it into her vagina. "But not any more. Now you're a long-pig and just pretty meat.”

He raped her ruthlessly, grabbing her tight, round little ass and controlling her limbless torso with it, up and down upon his penis, riding her like a jumping toy.

 “Do you like it?” he asked, bouncing her up and down.

“Oh my god,” she gasped, her cunt twitching around his masculinity. Her face was flushed, glistening with perspiration. “It was always my dream, my hope, to have a last, ultimate fuck!”

Despite all her pain, she cried out in the throes of orgasm, tilting back her head, grimacing with emotion.

But Ken wanted more. Reaching for her large artificial boobs and holding her now by these, he jammed her up and down upon his cock.

“She's as light as a child,” he announced, driving her down onto his tool. “Look at her go! This is such an easy fuck!”

He twisted her around and holding her torso now at the waist, horizontal to the ground, he entered her ass and continued his rough fucking, propelling her back and forth upon his tool.

He'd already come twice inside her, and so it took a little longer this time to achieve his release. But eventually it came, and he was shooting his jism into Caroline's ass. “Does anybody else want to use this funny fucking toy?” he asked, leaving her impaled upon his strange dick.

Someone must have put up their hand or otherwise indicated that they wanted a turn. For Ken lifted her off his manhood and handed her to a second man who entered once again from behind. She barely knew where she was any more. She couldn't see him, the man who was fucking her; she could only feel the ferocity of his cock inside her and stare at the floor.

There were customers all around her, moving with her in this strange final dance. Soon, she no longer knew how many cocks had filled her private parts, her pussy and her ass, how many strange tools she'd bounced around upon, up and down, back and forth. She would cry out in her orgasm, reaching one after another with increasing regularity and intensity, until they all melted into one continuous cry of pure lust.

Finally, exhausted to the point of death from the continual climaxes, and from the shock of her amputations and gutting, her heart stopped beating and she fell silent.

For a moment there was silence.

The guys with measured dignity placed her still twitching body back onto the butcher's car, pressing the final green button.

What now?

The car slowly moved off to the final processing chamber, where the coals awaited her torso. The crowd followed quietly as far as the doorway into the second chamber, gathering around it and looking inside.

The car came to a halt, and after a moment's pause, a mechanical arm lovingly lifted her out, lowering her onto the grill. Everyone solemnly watched from the doorway. Her white skin came into contact with the red-hot grate and there was a fierce hissing noise and clouds of steam rising as incense. The shock of the enormous heat jerked her heart into beating for a final time. Caroline opened her eyes, dizzy and disoriented.

“Oh,” she said, “What a heat!”

And with her fat dripping down onto the coals and her skin darkening to a golden brown, she closed her eyes forever.

Shannon heard the cry and was a little jealous. Here she was by herself in the gutting room, alone and in pain, missing out on all those dozens of fucks that Caroline had enjoyed.

Life wasn't fair!

She felt the spit moving again, entering her throat now.  She spoke her last words hurriedly, knowing she was out of time. They were sorrowful and unheard by anyone. “I am going to miss my best friend. I wish I'd been the first over the coals instead of her.”

Then, as if she'd been ordered by some secret sign, she arched her head back. She straightened her neck and opened her mouth. The spit slipped through the opening, parting her lips, and silencing her for ever. Her spitting was complete. All that was now required was to fix her in place so that she didn't slide round upon it as she rotated upon the coals. To this end, a collar slid over the rear end of the spit and plugged her ass. It was three inches in diameter but her ass hole stretched easily to accept it. The machine then fixed her ankles with metal cuffs that wouldn't disintegrate in the flames. Her trolley then began to follow Caroline along the narrow track into the roasting chamber. The crowd moved out of the way to allow her to pass, and when she had done so, followed her into the final chamber, standing silently against the tiled walls. They could see her looking at them, talking to them through her eyes, but had no way of determining what she was trying to say. What could she possibly be thinking? The spit was positioned next to Caroline and at once began to turn, for otherwise she would quickly have burnt. As she rotated slowly over the grill, at each turn she could see her friend’s torso roasting, sizzling nicely and filling the room with the smell of crispy steaks.

“Turn her around, turn her around,” her dizzy mind cried, unheard and unnoticed. For a moment she thought about turning Caroline herself, but then she realized that it was impossible. She couldn't get free. She would never be free, bound, fixed and impaled as she was.

Every rotation squeezed and stretched her pussy, as her weight first pushed and then pulled upon the pole. She tried to follow the movements, to push her body onto the spit as she rode over it to accelerate her arousal, but with her legs straight upon the pole there was no way she could gain the leverage.

“That’s annoying,” she thought, “that I can't move back and forth and rub my clit on the pole. It would be easy if my knees were bent to give myself a final pleasure. What a shame that I can't inform anybody of this improvement to the equipment.”

The only way she could signal was to blink her eyes, and although she did so several times, nobody took any notice of her.

The barbecue brush moved across her body, basting her with a cool sauce that momentarily gave her relief from the heat. The brush tickled her sensitive nipples which felt nice. But then back to the heat. So much heat. It was worse than she could have imagined. It was only the thought of everyone enjoying her cooked meat that gave her solace. She smiled inside at the thought of the other girls trying to top her barbecue. She kept thinking, turning things over in her mind. She could, because water was being sprayed onto her head, helping to keep it clear. The water steamed off her, only one or two drops dripping down onto the coals, sizzling and bubbling away to nothing. Her flesh was browning nicely, crisping up and becoming golden. She would live until her blood boiled and burst her heart. The smell of her flesh cooking was even making her hungry.

Oh, dear God. What was that? The pain in her chest! A horrible griping...



Response is welcome!

Dolcetta's e-mail is dolcetta@grim_williams.co.uk

My e-mail is gw@grim_williams.co.uk. (finally, before anyone asks, no, you can't have a picture of me <grin>. And anyway, I'm nowhere near as sexy as dolcetta, so you wouldn't want one, anyway!!