Author: Urquhart Devlin Title: In Class Summary: Bridget is not the most popular girl in the school. When she's given the place of honour by Miss Stapleton in their last practical lesson, her fellow students, even her best friend, are very enthusiastic. Keywords: F m+ f+ f cons humil scat snuff tort ws ======== In Class ======== by Urquhart Devlin ------------------------- One - Bridget's Called Up ------------------------- Bridget walked nervously out to the front of the class, uncertain how she'd caught the teacher's eye. She wasn't like Tracey, always in the front row with a low-cut top and a hungry look. In dress and action Bridget always aimed not to be noticed, and up to now felt she'd become quite adept. Trying to ignore a resentful stare - it shouldn't be possible to have angry cleavage but Tracy was managing it - she made her way out between the desks. "Come along Bridget. We need to get started." Miss Stapleton wasn't being unpleasant. Everyone else seemed to enjoy these lessons, they were fascinating, but the fear of being called on to stand at the front of the room - with all those eyes on her - always left Bridget too tense to relax and really enjoy learning. Now, nearly at the end of her schooling, just when she thought she was safe, she'd finally been pulled from her lair in the back row. She and Beth, the fellow inhabitant of her shy little clique, had exchanged looks of horror when Bridget's name was called. Now Miss Stapleton was smiling encouragingly at her as she shuffled reluctantly forwards. It wasn't even that Bridget didn't enjoy the subject of torture - she was always thrilled to learn new ways you could inflict pain on the female body - and it certainly wasn't because she disliked her teacher. Like most of the pupils who had Miss Stapleton for torture, she had a bit of a crush on her. In fact, alone in her room, Bridget would often fantasize about giving herself over to her teacher's abusive pleasure - it was just, in her dreams, there was always just the two of them. The problem for Bridget was her weight. When you were a teenager and plump, verging on fat, you did tend to be quite self-conscious about it. It was always easier to skulk at the back with her friend Beth, trying to stay out of sight. Beth was as self-conscious about her boobs, or rather the lack of them, as Bridget was about her flabby body. Their plan only partly worked, the class had given the quiet pair nicknames - flatty and fatty - which they didn't hesitate to use when certain no teachers were around. Ever brisk, Miss Stapleton plunged on before her pupil had reached her desk. She was definitely a popular teacher, a bubbly blonde in her late twenties, still fired with enthusiasm for expanding young minds. A tendency towards almost low-cut tops, and not quite short skirts, kept the boys' attention, while an obvious enthusiasm for her subject generally held the girls'. Today was the last practical lesson before the upper class left the school, and the little smile playing on her lips suggested she'd planned something pretty spectacular. "That's right Bridget." she said, as her model finally reached the teaching platform. "Just hop up here and stand facing the class with your hands behind your back. Make sure everyone can see you before we start." As Bridget climbed up she couldn't help, despite her butterflies, wondering what she was in for. Usually there were just one or two pieces of equipment on the platform, but today Miss Stapleton seemed to have emptied out half the stock cupboard. Turning her back on the intriguing plethora of apparatus, she stood up straight, trying not to catch her classmates' eyes. It wasn't often that Bridget was the focus of attention. She was described as chubby by those being kind, fat by those who weren't. Her dark brown hair was more mousy than sleek and, despite her best efforts, never seemed to grow below her shoulders. Her face itself was quite attractive, helped by youthful skin that had stayed soft and clear, but she would have taken a few spots over the first suggestion of a second chin. "What are you sniggering at Jason?" asked Miss Stapleton sharply. One thing she was known to dislike was anyone in her classes being rude at the wrong time to the girls called on to be demonstrators. Jason stopped sniggering hurriedly, and started looking worried instead. He didn't want to be thrown out of the last ever practical lesson they'd have. "Well, come on Jason. What are you amused about?" It wasn't any good lying to this teacher, she always seemed to know, but Jason's answer was delivered reluctantly. "It's just that Bridget is a bit..." he paused, then plunged on, "...well-built, I suppose. She's not going to bend like Sharon or Tracy." Blushing furiously, Bridget looked firmly straight in front of her, staring at a poster of advanced knots on the back wall of the room. In her distress she didn't hear the start of her teacher's answer, but, as her blood stopped throbbing in her ears, things didn't sound so bad. "... so you'd be amazed how little difference a fuller figure makes, especially if the slut's quite young." Miss Stapleton was saying. "A lot of serious connoisseurs prefer someone like our model today who has more to work with, I know I do. Ever since this class came to me two years ago, I've been thinking our model's body shape would be ideal for this lesson." Bridget's mind was reeling. Had Miss Stapleton really been watching her all this time, while she thought she'd just gone unnoticed? It certainly sounded like it. Did her pretty teacher really prefer fat girls? It was an intriguing thought, and she stood a little taller. "We're going to be covering a lot in this demonstration." the teacher continued. "So we'll have to skip the reveal and tease. I'll just get our model to strip off everything and we'll start from there." No one missed the girl on the platform's face turning white, they just couldn't work out why. Nearly every girl in the class had been naked up there at some time. What they didn't know, and Bridget did, was how little personal grooming she'd done recently. Over-confident that she wouldn't be picked now, for the past few months she really hadn't bothered with anywhere that was covered by her school uniform. Instead of, maybe, a neat triangle over her pussy, she had a full thatch sprouting from every crevice, even her armpits were growing respectable little bushes. In the confusion of the last few minutes it had been driven from her mind, but now, instructed to get naked, the full horror of the situation was coming back to her. There was no point in refusing, that would just mean detention and a fail. Bridget turned away from the class, hoping to delay the inevitable, as she slowly undid the buttons on her blouse and unzipped her skirt. Reaching behind to unhook her bra, her arms pushed out from her sides, she groaned inwardly as the sniggering started. From the corner of her eye she could see Miss Stapleton walking out into the room, presumably to see what was amusing her pupils. Bridget braced herself for some pretty sharp comments. "Have you lot learnt nothing from two years in my class? I really did expect better of you." Miss Stapleton sounded more weary than annoyed. "Lift up your arms model, it's time these giggling schoolchildren learnt something." Bridget, confused and unsure, but slight hope making her just a little less nervous, raised her hands high above her head, feeling a hint of breeze cool the warm damp hairs in her armpits. Still turned away from her classmates, she couldn't see how they looked, but the teacher's words created a quiet stillness behind her. "If you want to know how to play a woman, if you want to know when she's aroused, even more if you want to know when she's afraid - even in pain - her scent will tell you more than any amount of writhing, moaning or screaming. The sheer joy of smelling a woman in tortuous agony is the height of what I've been trying to teach you." Miss Stapleton reached up to gently stroke the hair in Bridget's nearest armpit, causing the girl to shy slightly in surprise, before bringing her fingers up to her nose and inhaling deeply. Miss Stapleton paused, to let her words and actions sink in, before continuing, "Without hair you lose nearly all the aroma, and the ability to play your victim like the finest musical instrument. Let's see if this model is playable all over." Bridget almost fell over. In one swift movement Miss Stapleton had ripped her knickers down to her ankles and pulled apart the cheeks of her arse. Almost before she regained her balance she felt a second surprise as her teacher's nose pressed into the crack of her arse, then the little rush of air across her sphincter from a deep inhale. Turning back to the shocked class, Miss Stapleton announced, "Very revealing. Our model here hasn't been wiping too well, which is always a help. Recently she's been very nervous, almost frightened, but she seems rather calmer now. Would anyone else like to come and take a sniff?" It was pretty mortifying having your bum read, especially after the comment about imperfect wiping, but at least her teacher seemed pleased with her. Feeling a little bolder, Bridget even turned round to see if anyone would take up the offer to come and inhale from her back passage. There were a few brave, if slightly nervous, souls, including Beth, unusually volunteering to leave their back row. She hadn't been touched so much since first starting school, when they'd all excitedly tried out what they'd just learnt on each other, mostly with little success - and no one had ever stuck their face down there. Ricky, one of the few boys who'd ever asked her for sex, seemed to spend longer smelling her crotch than he had fucking it. Beth, after surprising her with a tongue that just probed into her sphincter, walked away with a secret little smile on her face. The final boy to volunteer, a hunky blond called Jason who Bridget quite fancied, kept his face in her arse even longer than Ricky. "So Jason." said Miss Stapleton, as he sat down, "How did you find the scent of our model?" Jason, trying not to look embarrassed, answered a bit too loudly, "Really interesting. You were right Miss, I've got the most amazing boner." "Thank you for being so honest Jason." his teacher looked at him proudly. "Just for that you can take first place if you want to relieve yourself in the model." This was the best perk of being called up to model as a pain-slut, even Bridget looked forward to this bit. The boys were about to be invited to come inside the girl who'd been picked as today's model, it was the best way of making sure they could concentrate for the rest of the lesson. The thought of more stiff cocks than she'd ever experienced was making her pussy down, but there was a small problem. Bridget knew what to do, dropping down onto all fours and pushing her bum over the edge of the platform. Having avoided censure for being slow, she motioned to Miss Stapleton that she needed a word. "What is it model?" her idol asked quietly, as she bent in low. "I haven't been taking my pill Miss." Bridget half- mouthed, half-whispered as the teacher came so close to her. "Don't worry about that now." was miss Stapleton's breezy response. "That'll all be taken care of soon." As the young teacher stood up to announce Bridget's fertile state, causing more than the usual rush of boys, Bridget herself was a little worried. There were always pills and procedures to deal with unwanted pregnancies, but Miss Stapleton's manner had suggested something faster than that. The last practical lesson was always rumoured to be special, even if no one ever talked about what actually went on. If there wouldn't be any chance of her getting pregnant, what was planned for her? Bridget couldn't worry too much about the future for a while, it's hard to concentrate when a class of randy teenage boys are lining up to bang you. The fat girl was shaken so wildly it took all her concentration just to avoid falling over. None of the boys, just looking for a quick cum-dump, took more than a couple of frantic minutes, but the constant succession of swollen pricks kept her dripping snatch feeling full. By the end Bridget could feel the hot sticky semen dribbling down her legs and pooling inside her where it had been pistoned into her womb. "Okay everyone. Now we're more relaxed, let's get on with the lesson. Stand up model and face the class." Her legs feeling like lumps of jelly, Bridget stood up, flushed and still a little dazed, convinced she could feel hot spunk sloshing inside her. Most of the girls in her class had stood here before her, in much the same condition, and Bridget knew the sight she must be presenting. Running pretty much on automatic, she followed the next instructions. "If you could just pop your arms behind your back, we can cuff them out of the way." Miss Stapleton told her. "I don't want you flailing around when you're lifted up." Rope work, though Bridget, struggling to think clearly, we haven't done that for a while. It can't be my hands if they've been cuffed. I hope it's not my tits, Angela's went all saggy after she was hung by them. Maybe, gulp, it'll be my neck, it is the last practical. Let's hope it's my ankles, that wouldn't be so bad. A sharp pain, and she was brought back to the present by the sound of laughter. Muddled by her shaking and lost in contemplation of her fate, Bridget hadn't even noticed the teacher start to wind a rope around her left breast. The look of shock on her face, as the first turn was pulled tight, caused the class, who had been paying attention, to let loose a guffaw. "There we go." Miss Stapleton tugged to check the final knot, Bridget's boob already turning a little blue, before pulling the slack rope over the pulley. "As you can see I've used a triple bind. That will add to the slut's discomfort by cutting the circulation more, and it will ensure the breast doesn't slip out when it's holding her entire weight. Yes Angela?" Angela, the model in the last tit-hanging lesson, had raised her hand, a questioning look on her face. Bridget couldn't help glancing at her classmates chest, currently showing plenty of cleavage in a supportive bra. They'd all been fascinating watching the changes to Angela, hung by increasingly stretched boobs in front of them all lesson, noting how her sounds of pain had grown louder. Afterwards, her once pert boobs sagging to her navel when set free, they'd taken turns squeezing them to feel the ruptured tissue. "Won't that rip her tit off?" Angela asked, unconsciously stroking the stretch marks on her own mangled bosom. "I know mine nearly ripped off, and that was being hung by both of them - and I'm nowhere near as heavy as today's model." "Well spotted Angela." Miss Stapleton smiled, pleased that one of her class was using their brains. "I'm rather disappointed that no one else worked that out. You will all be writing up this lesson for homework and I expect you to be watching closely to see the changes in the model's skin as it reaches, then passes, breaking point." "You're going to be ripping my tit off?!" Bridget knew she shouldn't interrupt, but couldn't stop herself, she barely even registered the reference to her weight. There was a bit of giggling from the class at this outburst, but most of them were far too thrilled about this news to fool around. Every pair of eyes was staring intently at the girl roped in front of them. They'd done extreme mutilation in theory, but this was the first time they were going to see it performed live. Miss Stapleton didn't bother answering such an obvious question. She reached up to the girl's face with one of the heaviest school masks. "Open your mouth. I'll need to get you gagged, I don't want to have to try and teach over your howling." This is it, thought Bridget, opening her mouth to let in the stifling rubber mask. She glanced down at her tits, one jutting out so oddly with the coils of rope wound tightly round it. It was already throbbing pretty badly, and she'd nearly made it through school without being disfigured, typical of her luck. As the teacher slowly lifted Bridget clear of the platform, the teenager tried to hang still, hoping to slow the torment in her rapidly disfiguring breast. Almost before she was pulled clear she could hear, and feel, the creaking and snapping in her overstrained flesh. "Can you see the change in colour as the skin reaches breaking point." Miss Stapleton used her stick to prod at Bridget's ripping tissues. "See how the stretch marks are changing from white to purple. We should see the first tear any second now, and once that's happened the whole breast will rip off pretty quickly." The school gags were very effective, reducing even the most desperate of shrieks to a murmur, but they did make breathing quite an effort. Flashes of red and green crossed Bridget's eyeballs as she fought to let out the scream her pain demanded. From her position, raised several feet in the air, Bridget barely noticed the pain shoot through her ankle as she crashed back to the platform. Vision blurred by tears, she could hardly even make out her severed breast, still tightly bound in the rope six foot above her. Miss Stapleton, ever practical, didn't waste time. "Get up you. I want to do your other boob now, and they're a bugger to rope if you're lying down." Bridget struggled awkwardly to her feet. Unable to use her hands, her weight on her damaged ankle was sending rods of pain through her leg. Staggering upright, she was grateful for the teacher's hand helping her to balance. "I think we've broken the model's ankle." Miss Stapleton announced, as she balanced the girl upright. "Always a good additional torment to aim for. It is affecting her balance and unfortunately, so I'll need to get one of you up to rope up her remaining breast. Nigel, you're leading the class table currently, get up here and grab another rope." Nigel positively strutted to the front of the class, lapping up the envy of his fellows. He'd won the school trophy for his rope-work, and he was obviously delighted at having a chance to demonstrate his skills. As Nigel grabbed another rope and began winding it round Bridget's remaining tit, pulling it even tighter than Miss Stapleton had, the tortured girl was still interested enough to look down. Even through the pain she can appreciate the ugly red wasteland where one breast had been, surprisingly bloodless, but sending throbbing shafts of torment through her chest. Then there was her remaining lonely breast - being forced out from her in a constricting tunnel of rope. -------------------------- Two - 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." -------------------------- Three - Unexpected Moments -------------------------- Bridget, her hands free, tried to run them over her tortured body. She could see the grins of her classmates, as her hands frantically sought a part of her to sooth - a part where her own touch didn't bring even greater agony. Miss Stapleton was confident, she'd been her schools darts champion. Ignoring the impaled girl's frantic movements, she took a moment to force herself to relax, an audience of her pupils was nearly as stressful as a competition. Next moment she raised her head and let fly with both darts in quick succession. Bridget had been staring wildly, her mutilated body tormenting her almost beyond reason. When her teacher had looked up and let fly, it took her a second to register what she was seeing. So it was that her teachers lovely young face, surrounded by a halo of awed teenagers, was to be the last sight she ever had. With pinpoint precision the darts stabbed through her eyeballs, blocking her vision. It was an impressive sight. Bridget froze on her anal hook, as though turned to stone, only her shattered legs swinging a little. Then, like a jolt of electricity had been fired through her, she was all movement. Her cry of pain audible even through the silencing gag, Her hands scrabbled frenziedly at her face, ripping the darts from her eyeballs, oblivious to the damage she was inflicting on herself. The teacher calmly explained to her pupils what they were seeing their classmate go through. "There's nothing to quite match the total agony of having your optical nerves pierced. You can see how our model has ripped her own eyes apart as she tries to ease the pain." "Would that help miss?" "Not in the slightest." answered the teacher cheerfully. "If anything, it makes things worse. That's why it's a good idea to free the snuff-bunny's hands first." After that Bridget felt herself being lowered down, a new pain as her shattered legs squashed against the floor. She wasn't sure, but she thought she'd been lain face down over the demonstration table again. "Okay Tracy." Miss Stapleton relented, looking round to class to find a volunteer to take Bridget's anal hook out. "Let's see if you can at least successfully slip this rod out of our model's rectum." As Tracy eagerly braced one hand against Bridget's arse, and took a firm grip on the curved metal that protruded from it with the other, the teacher anxiously gave her some advice. "Now take it slow, if you pull her guts out you might actually reduce her torment. Remember how large the ball on the end is." Miss Stapleton placed a restraining hand on Tracy's. "Draw it out and up, so it rakes across her insides." Under the teacher's careful guidance, Tracy made a near- perfect withdrawal of the anal hook. Bridget thrashed a little as vital organs were squashed, and her tightened sphincter ripped open again, but already the constant torment was tiring her. "Let's have Beth back up again." announced Miss Stapleton, as she calmly pushed her tortured pupil onto the floor. "Let's see if our snuff-bunny's friend is ready to carry through on what she told us." Bridget barely moved as rough hands unbuckled her gag. Then came Miss Stapleton's voice, impersonal as she taught the class, giving her next instruction. "Open your mouth model." You only get one chance at being snuffed, and Bridget, despite everything, was determined to get it right. She opened her mouth before she felt the warmth of her friend's crotch approach her face, seeing, now only in her mind, those familiar large pussy lips, and tight, clean little bumhole. It wasn't clean for long. She caught the stench just before she felt the soft warm sticky end of a turd on her tongue. Gagging madly, an even worse odour hit her. It was a second before she realised it came from whatever vile brew was being dragged up from her stomach. She actually gained relief by chewing and swallowing the warm shit in her mouth, to a small gasp of surprise from Beth. There was no explanation as she felt a second body descending towards her face. This one didn't stop until it was pressed tightly over her mouth, smothering her. There was a gasp from the class as this body let rip an enormous fart, with nowhere else to go forcing itself into Bridget's lungs. "Smothering is an ideal extra bit of cruelty when you're crapping in someone's mouth." It was Miss Stapleton's voice. "Before I took up teaching, I actually snuffed my sister like this for our father's birthday. I can highly recommend it, feeling someone struggle to their end against your heaving anus, spluttering your warm shit back at you." If only she hadn't been blinded! She'd actually have got to see Miss Stapleton's pussy. No one in the class had ever got to see it, even though she wore quite short skirts with no tell-tale line suggesting the wearing of knickers. She had to content herself with pushing out her tongue, to trace the bumps and hairs of the spasming anus pressed against her mouth, surprised by the pleased little wriggle her teacher gave before standing up. Bridget didn't have time to enjoy her unfettered freedom as her shattered body lay on the platform. Before she could even swallow the remains of the teacher's shit, the gag had been forced back into her mouth, its bulk removing any hope of clearing her mouth of the foetid mass - and the rest of her didn't remain unconstrained for long. Miss Stapleton was certainly an expert in ropework. The whole class gathered round to see her lash Bridget into another undignified position. Two large hooks had been skewered through the fat around her hips. The remains of her legs had been wrapped in a web of thin cord and pulled in tight to the hooks, the pain nearly causing Bridget to pass out. Another rope had been plaited through and through her mousey hair. Leaving Bridget where she lay trussed up, their teacher asked one of the boys to bring a large bucket from the storeroom and place it in the centre of the platform. "I know we've covered watersports before, but, as we need to fill this bucket, this will be an excellent opportunity for a mass comparison. When it's not your turn you might want to take notes, I will be expecting an essay on peeing differences even within the same gender." Bridget's mind seized in fear - not just drowned, but in a bucket full of her classmates' piss! She'd never tried watersports, well not more then you got from sucking an unwashed cock, but, if the smell in the school loos at breaktime was anything to go by, it wasn't going to be pleasant. Again and again she heard a splashing stream, some long, some short, as her classmates shuffled up to take their turn. By the end she could clearly hear the deeper note of a full bucket as the last drops of liquid sploshed into it. The brief silence was followed by a couple of noises that she couldn't quite identify. Then there was a gentle glugging, followed by a sigh and Miss Stapleton's voice. "Very refreshing. If we didn't need so much, I'd get you all to try a cupful." Even the pain-wracked and blinded Bridget was seeing a new side to their teacher. All through the past two years Miss Stapleton had been clean and decorous at all times, not like most other teachers who openly fondled themselves while demonstrating some painful technique on a screaming girl. Now the proper young blonde had taken a shit and drunk piss in front of them, even if her defecation had been screened by her skirts. All of the boys, and most of the girls, were hoping the desks hid their hands activities. A little more work, and Bridget hung, only a couple of feet above the platform, her entire weight supported on three ropes. The torment in her hips was bad enough, but the weight of her upper body, threatening to rip hair and skin clean off, was even worse. The only reason she noticed, as something that felt like a baseball bat was forced into her protesting young pussy, was through the extra attention the movement caused to her already badly stressed scalp "I've never seen one that big." someone, she couldn't tell who, commented. "Yes, it's the largest one we have in school." That was definitely Miss Stapleton's voice, sounding so calm and relaxed. It was hard to believe her tongue had, only a few minutes ago, been tracing the woman's shitty arsehole. "You can get larger speculums." Miss Stapleton was continuing. "But for a pussy-stretching there's really no point. This one's titanium steel, so it should be harder than bone, even at full stretch." "What would be the point of a larger one then?" That was Beth, sounding as fascinated as Bridget knew she would have been had the roles been reversed, and she had been the one seeing her friend's cunt enveloping such a brutal intruder. Their teacher sounded quite pleased as she answered Beth's question. "I've only seen larger used before in stage shows. Holding open a gash in a woman's belly, either for a gutting or a snuff caesarean." "Does the baby survive in a snuff caesarean?" a new voice, Joanne, a girl who, fairly solid classroom rumour said, had got herself knocked-up recently. "I've never looked into that Joanne, but then that really isn't the aim. When I saw it performed the woman hammered several foot-long nails into her own swollen belly at the start of the show, so definitely not that time. If you want to earn some extra credit you could do some research and write me an essay." There was loud scraping as something heavy was dragged across the platform. Next moment Bridget knew for sure what it was, the choking stench of piss overwhelmed her. How had Miss Stapleton sounded so cheerful as she drank this stuff? Then she shied a little as a pair of hands touched her face. The next moment she was gasping in big lungfuls of air. Her mouth once again freed, she could at last swallow the remains of her teacher's turd. Liberated from the choking gag, Bridget this time found what little voice she had left to whisper, "Not drowning Miss, anything but that, please. I'll lower myself into a bath of acid or gut myself if you'd like, but please not drowning." When Miss Stapleton leaned in to answer, her whisper was even quieter than Bridget's. "You were paying attention when we covered snuffing, weren't you Bridget?" Her teacher had used her name! She wasn't sounding angry, just disappointed, which actually made Bridget feel worse. "You must have realised we're doing an extreme snuff here, and the aim is to break the slut - that's you dear - into a worthless wreck before finally putting her down." Bridget didn't say any more after this, just tried to brace herself for her horrific end. Of course she should have known! Beth would have worked it out when she revealed her friend's greatest fears. "This is what you're aiming for." Miss Stapleton's voice, addressing the class, cut through her thoughts. "The model has just offered to gut herself rather than drown. I've no doubt she would willingly agree to participate in any other agonising end I could think of as well." There was a bit of excited giggling at this, the tension in the classroom palpable. Miss Stapleton shushed her students and invited Angela to release the other end of the rope attached to Bridget's hair and hold on tight. The teacher herself returned to Bridget's crotch and began slowly winding the giant speculum open. "This will be an excellent chance to observe the breaking point again." as Miss Stapleton spoke, Bridget gagged on the acrid smell from the bucket, the fuming liquid almost touching her face. "As we spread our model's cunt wide keep an eye on the skin, particularly near the arsehole. Just like with her boobs, you should see dramatic colour changes just before it tears. Lower away very slowly Angela." Bridget couldn't help struggling, as the rope round her hair gradually slackened, and she descended into the stinking liquid. Her scream, as the teacher now rapidly started spreading her pussy far wider than was bearable, was sharply cut off in a pissy gurgle. Next second her cunt and lungs were screaming centres of fire. Pointlessly thrashing her head around, she never heard Miss Stapleton say, "That crack was her pelvis going. If you look round her arsehole, you'll see where her cunt's about to tear." "I know mine's been spread a bit, but is it normal for pussies to stretch that far?" asked Sonia. After being used as a fisting demonstration so often, most boys now complained they could barely touch the sides when shagging her. "Only if you're not worried about long-term damage, the walls will be distended beyond the point of recovery." Miss Stapleton answered, then showed she had a clear idea of the state of Sonia's cunt. "As I'm sure you know, even sufficient repeated minor stretching will leave a pussy permanently slack. Of course, that won't really be a problem for our model. Now watch closely for a few seconds." It was perfect timing. Despite being near the end, Bridget bucked and thrashed in agony as her over- strained crotch ripped apart. A few seconds later she was still. Her suffering wasn't over. Still slightly conscious, she was dragged from the bucket. Before she could even try and choke, a rock hard penis was shoved down her throat, trapping the piss that had replaced the air in her lungs. "A special reward for you Nigel." Miss Stapleton, again. "Can you describe to the class what it feels like to have a girl finally snuff around your cock?" Bridget went out with Nigel describing to her spellbound classmates the feeling as her death spasms sucked him dry. After that everyone got to see what Bridget had only felt with her tongue. Miss Stapleton had a reward she gave to a class, if they'd worked hard like this one. Lifting her skirt and bending over her desk, revealing a neat little snatch with a patch of blonde fur, she let a succession of eager teenage dicks pound her cunt or arse, while she used her tongue to finish off a matching queue of damp young pussies. The class filed out, chattering excitedly, everyone agreeing that had been the best practical ever. Angela, she of the saggy tits, and always precocious, had already agreed to let Nigel snuff her at the prom. Miss Stapleton sank contentedly back into her chair. The snuff lesson was always a worry, however many times she did it. Still, today's had gone particularly well, Bridget had been an excellent snuff-bunny. Remembering the feeling as her hands broke that young flesh, she raised her skirt and slipped her fingers deep into her slimy crotch, staring up at the two severed young breasts that still hung, like erotic decorations, from the ceiling. ********THE*END******** (c)2014 Urquhart Devlin 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.