Author: Urquhart Devlin
Title: One of Those Things
Summary: When your time's up, it's up - it's just one
of those things. Do you feel sorry for yourself, or do
you join in? Some women look forward to being snuffed,
but Susan, despite her choices, isn't one of those.
Keywords: M F+ cons humil reluc snuff tort



===================
One of Those Things
===================

by Urquhart Devlin



---------
Preparing
---------

It was one of those things, like going to the dentist or 
cramming for an exam. Just grin and bear it Susan, 
that's the only thing to do.

Susan stood alone before the full-length mirror in the 
tiny dressing room for one final check of what she'd 
been given as a costume. Could you really describe make-
up and accessories as a costume? She gulped at the sight 
of so much of her naked flesh. No one who knew her, and 
that included herself, had ever considered her as 
someone happy with her body. No wonder she was nervous, 
how many people were about to see every crevice and 
square inch of  mottled white flesh?

In truth Susan's body wasn't that bad. For a woman in 
her late thirties, a mother of two, it was about as good 
as you could hope, even if there were the inevitable 
stretch marks and tendency to run to fat. Certainly 
people passing in the street as she walked here, quietly 
dressed in jacket and pleated skirt - landing decorously 
below her knees - had barely glanced at her. Sighing, 
Susan turned away from the mirror, knowing that was 
about to change.

No-one would ignore her now. Her body shimmered all over 
from the make-up that had been spread across it. Her 
heavy breasts, slightly droopy, the dark nipples even 
more prominent now they'd been pierced with a pair of 
heavy steel rings, sparkled where crystal studded pins 
had been embedded in the shape of two question marks. 
Stark naked, there was no disguising her love handles, 
blending into little the paunchy sag above her pubis. 
Then there was the way the glitter actually brought out 
the cellulite on her bum and down her thighs. It felt 
like every bulge and stretch mark had been carefully 
highlighted. The final indignity, completing her look, 
was pushing out from the dark hairs between her legs, a 
third heavy steel ring that still made her wince a 
little. The tightening of long-forgotten muscles, as she 
balanced on unfamiliar needle-sharp four inch stilettos, 
pulled at the still-tender flesh stretched round newly 
inserted metal.

A young woman, emphasising Susan's bare flesh with the 
unassuming trouser suit she wore - a headset holding 
back slightly greasy hair - pushed round the door of the 
dressing room.

"Okay Susan, you're up now." she gave the bare older 
woman a sympathetic smile.

"Thanks Cindy." Susan replied, returning the smile a 
little weakly.

"Break a leg." advised Cindy, with slightly unthinking 
cheeriness, as she rushed off in response to a squawked 
command in her ear.

I suppose, doing this job, you can't be too sensitive, 
thought Susan charitably, as she tottered along the 
empty corridor - and, anyway, I doubt I'll have to break 
my own leg.



---------------------------
Chapter One - The Volunteer
---------------------------

It had been after work birthday drinks at a local wine 
bar for one of her co-workers, Susan couldn't now even 
remember which one. The inevitable tray cake with a 
couple of sparklers had been produced, and then the 
various groups, mostly divided by office or department, 
had each laid claim to a table. Susan had settled with 
her usual bunch, the other women from payment 
processing, and they started on the true purpose of the 
night - gossip and alcohol.

They'd been there a while, and were all at least a 
little tipsy, when a woman with a clipboard, older, but 
smartly dressed in a navy trouser suit, had started 
circulating round the tables. Susan noticed the little 
stir of interest the woman caused at each table she 
visited, and was quite curious by the time she came over 
to them.

"Hi everyone. I'm Sandy." she greeted Susan and her 
colleagues, giving them a warm smile.

Normally Susan would have shooed away anyone who 
approached her in a bar. She came out to wind down, not 
be sold things, donate to charities or, especially, be 
hit on. Sandy seemed different though. She looked a bit 
older than Susan - that was unusual enough - and, above 
a spotlessly clean collar, had a face that looked as 
though she was genuinely enjoying herself. There was 
certainly no trace of the weary, hungry look the average 
chugger or lothario generally sported.

That's why she found herself saying, "Hi Sandy, what are 
you doing?" in a not unfriendly voice.

"Mostly getting blisters and cramp." Sandy answered, 
though she looked quite cheerful about it. "Mind if I 
sit down?"

She didn't wait for an answer, but dropped lightly on a 
spare stool in front of the table. "Are you all having a 
good night?"

There was a rowdy chorus of yes-es from around the 
table. Drinking on empty stomachs had made most of the 
office girls quite merry.

"Any of you thought of being on the telly?"

Some of the younger women said yes straight away, an 
excited look in their eyes. The older ones, although 
none were over forty, were a little more circumspect, 
experience telling them to wait and find out more.

Sandy gave a conspiratorial wink to Marlene, a stony-
faced thirty-four-year-old who certainly hadn't answered 
her question, before continuing, "So does anybody fancy 
entering the lottery to appear on this year's telethon?"

Most of those approaching forty looked thoughtful at 
this, while the younger ones were whispering, giggling, 
and nudging each other.

"You'll impress your family and friends just by putting 
your name down." Sandy encouraged them. "And don't 
forget, if you're not picked you get the chance to 
choose where you go when you are called-up."

She addressed the younger ones, most still giggling. 
"It's never too early to plan the future girls. Plus, if 
you are picked, you'll be snuffed in front of the year's 
largest TV audience."

The noise level round the table dropped considerably. 
Susan was silent like many of the others as her mind, 
slowed by alcohol, tried to make such an important 
choice.

Waiting for your call-up meant you went where you were 
told. There was a chance it would be swift, possibly 
even just a beheading, while if you were picked by the 
telethon people you were just about guaranteed something 
longer - they did have twenty-four hours of live TV to 
fill. On top of that, whatever you ended up doing would 
be broadcast, no woman could hope to maintain her 
dignity struggling in agony, almost certainly in a state 
of undress.

On the other hand, waiting for call-up might mean 
something like the pet food grinder. There they didn't 
even bother stunning the women first, just squeezed them 
still live into the hopper, so you felt the level of 
squirming howling flesh fall beneath you until your own 
feet were finally caught. Susan knew all about that, her 
husband James worked at a local pet food plant. His 
mates had even hinted they sometimes had a bit of fun 
before throwing the women in. Susan had once asked them 
what that was, but they'd just laughed and told her not 
to be impatient, she'd find out when it was her turn.

"Are a lot of people entering this year?" asked Marlene, 
obviously doing the same sort of mental calculations as 
Susan and the rest of the women over thirty.

"Not as many as last year." admitted Sandy. "I think 
that pleader from last year is putting them off. Don't 
worry though, we promise you at worst a thousand to one 
chance of being selected. Anyway, we always get a rush 
in the last week."

It was the gin (and a tipsy estimate of a one in a 
thousand chance) that decided Susan.

"I'll do it." she announced, to a round of boozy 
cheering. "Where do I sign?"

Susan scribbled her details on one of Sandy's forms. 
This seemed to break the ice and most of her older 
workmates signed up as well. Only one of the younger 
ones put her name down, getting a slightly awed cheer 
from rest of the girls around her.

"Wow." said Sandy, as she collected the forms back in. 
"That's more people than I've managed all day. I hope 
you ladies are lucky."

Recklessly volunteering seemed to set the tone for the 
evening. All those who had signed up, even the ones who 
were usually quiet, seemed determined to treat it as 
their last hurrah. Susan was really quite drunk, and 
still pretty giggly, when she finally got home. Her 
house was in darkness, her husband on early shifts at 
the moment. She slipped in as quietly as she could, 
hoping not to wake up the children who had to be at 
school in the morning. Susan wasn't worried about waking 
her husband, James would sleep through anything. His 
snoring was a bit disappointing, her daring decision had 
left her feeling quite randy.

****

Crawling back to consciousness next morning, Susan did 
not feel well. Blearily opening her eyes, trying to let 
in as little light as possible, she could just make out 
the outline of a large glass of water and packet of 
aspirin beside the bed - a wake up present from her 
husband. She swallowed both and tried to muffle the 
cheerful noises from her family until the drugs started 
to work.

"Good night?" asked James with a smile, as Susan 
stumbled into the kitchen, despite his kind supplies 
feeling only a little better.

She knew she should tell him about what she'd done last 
night, but her head was still pounding, and she didn't 
feel confident that she wasn't about to throw up.

"Okay." she mumbled, not looking at him directly, 
fumbling in the sink to cover her lies. "I think someone 
was buying me doubles."

"Looks more like triples to me. Don't worry I'll take 
the girls." responded James lightly. He kissed the back 
of her head, then bustled out of the door with their 
daughters in tow.

It'll be okay, Susan tried to reassure herself. In a few 
days I'll get my rejection letter and then we can all 
have a laugh about it. She tried to push out of her mind 
the consequences if a different letter was sent.

****

Susan couldn't discuss anything with her family, she'd 
have to reveal what she'd done. In the end she found 
herself reviewing her predicament with the dour-faced 
Marlene at work, an unexpectedly understanding audience.

"I think you're right not to tell them." Marlene 
responded after hearing Susan's position. "If your girls 
are anything like I was at that age, they'll get over-
excited and start bragging at school. With such a small 
chance of your being chosen, they'll end up looking a 
bit silly and boastful."

It came as a shock to think of Marlene as a young girl, 
even more of her getting excited about anything. That 
was rather unfair though, Susan might be quite sensible 
now, but she'd been just as caught up in the telethon 
when she was young. For a teenager it was the biggest 
event of the year, and most of the older kids at school 
barely mentioned anything else for weeks.

"You don't think they'll be upset if they found out I 
entered afterwards?"

"My mum entered when I was still at school." Marlene 
confided to her. "I told everyone about it and lapped up 
the attention. Then she wasn't picked - you know how 
cruel kids can be when that sort of thing happens."

"Especially girls." Susan agreed.

"It got worse. Mum went and picked the pet food place 
where your James works now. After that most kids didn't 
even believe she'd entered the lottery at all."

"Why on earth did she volunteer for there?" Susan asked 
in some surprise. It wasn't most women's first choice by 
a long way.

"She was a damn cat lover, wasn't she." Marlene 
confessed, with a rueful smile. "Wanted to feed them. 
Knowing her luck she probably ended up as dogfood 
anyway."

"I take it you haven't told your kids yet? What about 
your husband."

"No way. If Brian knew I was putting myself up for the 
telethon he'd probably try and get my name down for some 
special service."

That left them both silent for a moment. No one really 
talked about what happened when a woman got selected for 
special service at call-up, in truth Susan suspected, in 
the circle where she moved, no one was entirely sure. 
What was certain was that the family got a big bonus 
afterwards. She'd heard of husbands volunteering their 
wives, or sometimes even wives volunteering themselves, 
but all the families involved had been pretty hard-up. 
She'd never heard of a wife from a comfortable middle-
class family like Marlene's being volunteered.

"Brian actually wants you to do special service?!" Susan 
sounded shocked, she felt shocked as well. "You don't 
need the money do you?"

"Nah. It's just that Brian's got this thing about 
sending me off for it. He likes me to talk about it when 
we're screwing."

The conversation had turned pretty personal, and Susan 
was intrigued enough to ask, "Do you know what special 
service actually is then?"

"Of course not." Marlene gave Susan one of her trademark 
withering looks. "I've never met anybody who does, have 
you? Mostly I just exaggerate stuff I can remember from 
the telethon and let Brian pinch my nipples or slap my 
bottom."

Susan was disappointed, even the slightly unbelievable 
image of doleful Marlene naked and talking dirty wasn't 
distracting her as something like that normally would. 
Sometimes she wondered about herself, usually she just 
felt slightly awkward talking about sex, even with women 
of her own age, not slightly aroused like she did now.

****

The days rushed by pretty quickly. Susan was spending 
quite a lot of time with Marlene. After years of working 
side by side, barely noticing the other's existence, 
they'd suddenly become close confidantes. Then the 
morning came when a letter arrived...



---------------------------------
Chapter Two - How Like My Mother?
---------------------------------

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

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

"I haven't been called-up." she explained. "I've 
volunteered for the telethon.. and been chosen."

"Cool!" said the girl's in unison.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You never told me that!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I am sure Darling." she replied, equally seriously.

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

****

"James! Come over here lad. We've fixed up a special 
treat for your final test."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Dorothy!"

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

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

"What's the first rule James?" barked Mr Rodgers, before 
his apprentice could reply.

James' training took over. "Meat is meat Mr Rodgers."

"Well. Get on with it then lad."

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

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

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

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

"How's that for you?" James was surprised to see Mr 
Rodgers addressing the question to Dorothy.

"Surprisingly comfortable, considering."

Mr Rodgers turned back to James, looking disappointed.

"And what's wrong with that, then?" he asked the 
suddenly worried apprentice.

James was crestfallen, but thought quickly.

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

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

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

"And don't forget. You only get two attempts at this, so 
make this one count lad."

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

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

****

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

****

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

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

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

"Get your dick in that cunt then lad. Time to see if 
you're a craftsman."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Will it survive until then?"

"Probably not, but then we're only making pet food."

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

****

"So you just left mum in the hopper?"

"Of course, she wasn't going anywhere."

"And did she make it to the morning?"

James grinned a bit sheepishly at this.

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

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

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



----------------------------------
Chapter Three - Meeting Your Match
----------------------------------

Next morning, still feeling a little sore, though not 
unpleasantly so, Susan was packing Chloe's lunch, her 
youngest daughter running late as usual. It wasn't a 
surprise when Chloe brought the conversation round to 
her mother's impending appearance on the telethon.

"So do you know what you'll be doing?" her daughter's 
face was alive with interest.

"The letter just said they were thinking of me for the 
quiz section."

"Like last year?" Chloe asked, her eyes sparkling. "I do 
hope so. That's a real starring role!"

"I wish you didn't know that." fretted Susan. It was 
troublesome, the way her youngest daughter only looked 
excited. "Those women were stripped of every shred of 
dignity. As good as naked and demeaning themselves just 
to get a laugh from the audience. Surely you don't want 
to see me like that?"

She looked at Chloe hopefully, but her daughter now only 
looked sullen and mulish. She was probably worried Susan 
would persuade her father to change his mind about her 
watching.

"You always complained if your father or I mention sex." 
her mother persisted. "How can you contemplate viewing 
with what they might have me doing? Assuming I do get a 
big part, they only said they were thinking of it."

"But this is different. You'll be on the telly - 
famous." her daughter responded. "I hope you do get it. 
Remember last year, with that woman who had to press the 
button herself to detonate the thing up her bottom? 
Everybody was talking about it afterwards. It'd be great 
if you did something like that."

Susan hadn't forgotten that performance. The woman had 
looked really nervous as she pressed the button, but 
that wasn't what troubled Susan now. What made Susan 
blush in sympathetic memory were the cruel comments and 
audience laughter as the poor woman had struggled to 
force the great cylinder into her own rectum, all shown 
in close-up detail.

"Are you really saying you want to watch your mother 
being treated like that?"

Chloe gave that distressed look teenagers often do when 
a parent is being rather slow.

"Mum! What's the point in your being on there if you're 
not? If you were looking for a quick chop, why did you 
volunteer?"

Because I didn't believe I'd be picked, thought Susan to 
itself, and then I could have chosen the quick chop. She 
didn't want Chloe to find that out, her daughter was 
already looking at her as if she was letting everyone 
down. There was no way out now, best to bluff it out and 
at least get her family's admiration.

"You're right Darling." she answered instead, digging 
out the happiest smile she could find. "It's just your 
old mum getting a bit of stage fright."

Putting on a brave face seemed to work. As she watched 
Chloe leave for school, Susan had almost convinced 
herself she wanted what was coming.

****

Susan's emotions swung all over the place for the next 
few days. She tried talking to Becca, her eldest, but, 
while she was more sympathetic than Chloe, she still 
made it clear she was looking forward to seeing her 
mother on the telly.

"Everyone's been talking to me mum. They're all really 
in awe, nobody else has had their mother get on." her 
eldest daughter had confided to her. "They've all been 
asking what you look like naked." 

"Have you told them?" Susan had asked anxiously.

"Of course not mum." for a moment she'd thought Becca 
was being sensitive, but then the girl had gone on. 
"That would hardly be fair.  I wouldn't want to spoil 
it."

"I suppose not." Susan answered distractedly. She was 
now imagining how her daughter's friend would look, 
laughing from their sofas at her fading looks.

"Are you planning anything?" Becca went on.

Now Susan looked a bit confused, "What do you mean. I 
think it's all arranged for me.

"Yes." Becca explained. "But that doesn't stop you from 
adding an extra touch. Like the redhead last year who'd 
shaved completely and fixed all those jewels round her 
holes. I think you'd look great all smooth with a 
glittering back door."

What Susan remembered of the redhead was seeing that 
glittering anus shredded as a high-speed reamer hollowed 
out it's owners belly. Anyway, she really couldn't see 
herself decorating her private parts. She'd learnt from 
her conversations with Chloe though, and didn't spend 
time trying to talk her eldest out of looking forward to 
it.

"I don't think I'll bother with all that fuss." she'd 
answered instead. "Maybe a light trim. I don't see 
anything wrong with what I've got."

"It's your choice I suppose." her daughter replied, 
though not unkindly, just looking a little disappointed. 
"If I ever get on I'm getting it all waxed and sprayed 
gold."

Susan was left silenced by this as Becca wandered out, 
oblivious to the effect she'd just had on her mother. It 
was all a bit overwhelming to Susan, she didn't know 
what she was hoping for any more. She wanted to do her 
best, but, even if that's what they expected, she didn't 
want her daughters to see her if she was taunted and 
laughed at as her intimate parts were beaten ragged. 
Could she really keep up her cheery pose until she was 
abused to tears? Most women seemed to manage to, so 
effortlessly that she sometimes wondered if she was 
right and it was really a pose.

****

"Hi Susan. Remember me?"

"Sandy! Of course. I'm surprised you remember me though. 
You must have signed up hundreds of women."

Susan had just entered the grandiose reception at the 
television studios. Standing in the high-ceilinged 
atrium, surrounded by a bustle of activity, she'd stood 
felling very small and uncertain. Now she latched 
gratefully onto a familiar face.

"Of course I remember you." Sandy giggled. "It was your 
enthusiasm that got me my best night for sign-ups this 
year. Turns out I needn't have bothered putting my own 
name down to boost the numbers."

She wasn't sure whether to be gratified or worried, but 
Sandy didn't seem upset. Maybe she hadn't been selected?

"I suppose you're here to help organise things?" Susan 
asked cautiously.

Sandy chuckled. "A bit of that. But mostly I'm here to 
be snuffed."

That threw Susan a bit. Sandy didn't seem the least 
perturbed, she actually seemed to be enjoying herself 
immensely. Maybe she knew she was up for something quick 
and not too degrading? Susan had to find out.

"What have you been signed up for?" she asked, trying to 
keep her tone light. "Are they doing the guillotine show 
again this year?"

"I think so, is that what you were hoping for?" Sandy 
didn't wait for Susan's answer. "A bit short that I've 
always thought - you'll find the quiz a much better 
role. I'm going to be one of the rack babes - not short 
at all really."

How was Sandy so upbeat? The woman was about to be 
slowly stretched on a rack as bets were phoned in - 
punters wagering how many inches her naked body would 
stretch before it expired or tore apart.

"How are you managing to stay so cheerful." she couldn't 
help asking the other woman. "Aren't you worried what 
your family and friends will think of you when they see 
you naked and being wrenched apart."

"Not really! My family runs a little slaughterhouse in 
the country. Our kids have helped to chop up half the 
women we know. Only last month they had their aunt come 
through." Sandy paused briefly before carrying on. 
"Anyway, all the kids I know love the telethon. Don't 
yours?"

Susan couldn't bring herself to acknowledge out loud her 
own two daughters enthusiasm for their mother's 
appearance. "But isn't a quick job in a slaughterhouse a 
bit different to a couple of hours naked on a rack in 
front of a live audience?"

This brought the loudest laugh yet from Sandy. "You've 
never met Don, my husband. There's a lot more you can 
get away with out in the country. Beth, that's my sister 
that we did last month, was used for a bit of a live 
biology lesson first. They seemed pretty happy helping 
dissect their aunt however loudly she screamed, I don't 
think they'll have a problem with me on the rack."

"I'm surprised you were okay with that."

"It was all above-board." Sandy reassured her. "Don 
asked Beth first. She was quite content to help out her 
niece's with their education."

Susan wanted to ask more, but Sandy grabbed her hand and 
dragged her off.

"We'd best get you registered. The producers hate it if 
the talent isn't there in plenty of time."

****

Things had gone very smoothly. Sandy had helped her 
through the registration process and everyone she met 
had been smiling and friendly. It had all been so 
pleasant, Susan was beginning to forget why she'd been 
so reluctant. Now they'd reached the door with 'Dressing 
Room 27' on a neat little plaque.

"You'll be sharing this with your fellow contestant." 
Sandy informed her, as she opened the door. "I checked 
her in earlier, so we should her here already."

"Hi Juliet." Sandy called out as she pushed the door to 
the little room open, revealing an older woman looking 
at herself a little pensively in a full length mirror. 
"This is Susan who you'll be competing against."

It was a bit of a relief for Susan to find somebody who 
looked as nervous as she was. After Sandy's cheery 
attitude to her fate, and the staff's friendly 
efficiency, here was a woman who looked as if she shared 
her uncertainty about what they were in for. 


Juliet also looked more like Susan as well. Sandy today 
was attired in a style verging on mutton-dressed-as-lamb 
- all high-heels and plunging cleavage. Juliet had gone 
for a long-sleeved dress in a muted grey, cut sensibly 
above the knee, held in at the waist by the type of wide 
belt that helps to hide a little paunchiness in the 
tummy. Even her hair's quite like mine, thought Susan, 
much lighter, but about the same length, and tidily held 
in one neat bunch at the back. I wonder if we were 
chosen to match?

Sandy watched with professional interest as the two 
women eyed each other up. Juliet was looking as 
critically at Susan as Susan was looking back at Juliet. 
They really were a good match, she congratulated 
herself. Juliet might have a slight edge in height and 
weight, but they both looked like they'd just emerged 
from the door marked 'nice mummies'.

"I'll leave you two to get acquainted." she announced. 
"Hair and make-up will be along soon. You might as well 
get into the dressing gowns now."

With that Sandy bustled out. Leaving the two women 
standing awkwardly in silence. It was Juliet who broke 
it first.

"There's not much privacy in here." she said, sweeping 
her hand round to indicate the bare little room. "Would 
you like me to wait outside while you get changed?"

Susan almost accepted the offer, it's what she'd have 
suggested herself. Then she remembered they would be 
appearing together very shortly, and it wasn't likely 
their modesty would be respected then.

"I don't mind undressing with you here." she replied 
instead. "But, if you need me to leave, I don't mind at 
all."

"Maybe not." Juliet answered, then laughed, "I'm not 
sure why I bothered offering that now. Habit, I 
suppose."

That broke the ice. The two women physically sagged a 
little as the tension left them. Susan closed the door 
behind her and grabbed a robe before starting to get 
undressed. Self-consciously anxious to show that was 
nothing wrong, she was actually making an effort not to 
hide even the most intimate parts of her body. Despite 
trying to appear casual in the face of nakedness, Susan 
did find herself looking away as Juliet undressed next 
to her.

Just as Susan successfully manoeuvred into her robe 
there was the briefest of knocks and a harassed looking 
young woman burst into the room. She started talking at 
the two ladies without even a hello. Despite their 
statements to each other that it didn't matter now, they 
instinctively yanked their robes across to cover their 
bodies, not that the intruder even appeared to notice.

"Sorry to be a pain. I'm running horribly late. Still 
doing the make-up in room seven. Can you spread your own 
body glitter?" with a slight pause to catch her breath, 
she dumped a largish pot on the table. "All over please 
except faces and soles, help each other with backs and 
bums. I'll be back to finish you off as soon as I can."

It felt like a minor whirlwind had left. Susan and 
Juliet, neither of whom had been given a chance to get a 
word in, just stood there trying to work out what had 
been said. After a moment Juliet cautiously reached out 
to lift up the pot and read the label.

"I know what this is." she announced, after a quick 
perusal. "One of my daughters sometimes uses it. You 
just spread it over your skin and it makes it sparkle a 
little in the light. Do you really think she meant 
everywhere?"

"She did mention bums, so I think so."

They both paused to consider the implication of this. 
Not that the implication wasn't fairly clear - every 
part of them would be sparkling under the studio lights.

"Let's be sensible about this." Susan suggested. "It's 
going to be much easier if we spread this over each 
other rather than try to do ourselves. We're not going 
to be able to sit down or put our robes back on when 
we're covered anyway."

It had been a long time since anybody other than her 
husband had touched Susan intimately. There was 
something rather pleasant about having the cool cream of 
the make-up gently rubbed into her. Relaxed by the 
gentle massaging, Susan found even having it rubbed into 
her breasts and crotch didn't really trouble her. Only 
when Juliet asked her to bend over and spread the cheeks 
of her arse did she protest a little.

"Are you sure we need to cover there?"

"We can check if you prefer, but I'm pretty sure." 
Juliet replied. "Have you ever seen a game show 
contestant who didn't end up with her back passage 
broadcast in close-up at some point?"

Susan bent over and pulled her cheeks apart. Last year, 
for one of the quizzes, both of the contestants had 
needed to keep a rolling pin stuffed up their rectums to 
avoid sudden death. She tried not to think what that 
would be like in front of an audience of millions.



---------------------------------
Chapter Four - Making an Entrance
---------------------------------

"When's mum on?" asked Becca. "Have I got time to nip 
out? We've finished all the crisps."

"I'm not sure." her father replied. "That's the trouble 
with being live, they're always moving things around. 
Your mum only left a couple of hours ago, so you've 
probably got time if you're quick. Still, don't blame me 
if they rush her on and you miss it."

"If you're going." piped up Chloe. "Can you grab some 
more cola? I've nearly run out."

James looked at all the empty cans on the table and 
admonished his younger daughter, "And you can't blame me 
either Chloe if you end up choosing between wetting 
yourself and missing your mum on the telly."

****

Susan and Juliet couldn't help staring at each other, 
even if they were both still wincing a little. Hair and 
make-up had finally been, knocking years off both women. 
Susan wished now she'd had a make-over before, her hair 
positively shimmered and bounced with life.

After that had been costume, which turned out to be 
rather painful and, to both women's dismay, excessively 
minimalist. Neither woman was entirely steady on the 
tiny four-inch stilettos their feet had been forced 
into, but that wasn't the real issue. The only other 
items of attire were the new ornaments that had been 
skewered through their nipples and glans - which both 
were now tenderly feeling, trying to very delicately 
ease the throbbing the fitting had caused.

"My youngest's going to be pretty jealous." announced 
Juliet, unable to keep from running soothing fingers 
into her crotch, as she sought to keep the conversation 
light, "It's only a few months ago I told her she 
couldn't get her nipples pierced, and all she wanted 
were little gold bars."

Susan reached up to touch one of the heavy rings that 
had been driven deep through the meat of her breast. She 
couldn't imagine anyone choosing to have this sort of 
piercing, she could probably be hung from these rings. 
Come to think of it, that's probably why they'd been 
given them. She was just wondering whether to share her 
thoughts with Juliet when, after another quick tap, and 
again without a pause for reply, their dressing room 
door was briskly opened.

"Hello ladies. I'm Cindy, I'll be showing you where to 
go. Any questions, now is the time to ask me."

Cindy was a slim young woman, and would probably look 
quite pretty, thought Susan, if she took the time to 
have a good wash and get some sleep, maybe even choose 
more flattering clothes. Still, despite deep bags under 
her eyes and greasy skin, she had that hungry, excited 
look of someone enjoying their work.

"No questions Cindy." responded Juliet, who seemed 
unwilling to give up her whimsical attitude. "We go out, 
get tortured, then snuffed. I'm sure if we're getting it 
wrong someone will help us."

"Good attitude." Cindy actually looked impressed. "I'll 
be back in five. Make sure you're ready to go."

"I wish I could be so casual." Susan turned to tell 
Juliet when Cindy had whirled out with the same energy 
she'd burst in with. "I'm just a bag of nerves."

"Truth to tell, so am I." Juliet whispered 
conspiratorially.

"Really." she replied in surprise. "I thought you were 
like my eldest. She's actually looking forward to 
appearing if she can."

"Oh no." Juliet assured her. "Honestly I only entered 
the lottery because I was pretty sure if I couldn't 
choose I'd get sent to the local tannery."

"Is that bad? I've no idea about making leather."

"Gutted though your pussy so as not to damage your hide 
and then tanned alive for two days to keep the leather 
soft. I thought, even if I get picked, it can hardly be 
worse."

Susan was dubious there could be something worse than 
what she and Juliet were about to experience. "And the 
exposure didn't bother you? I'm still not sure I 
wouldn't prefer tanning to that."

Juliet broke into a chuckle at this. "You really don't 
know about tanning do you? Tied out in lines at the 
plant, your insides missing so you slowly snuff from 
pain and dehydration - and that's not the worst bit."

That certainly sounded like the worst bit, and Susan 
said so.

"After you've been tied out your skin needs to be 
prepared, and the best way of doing that is to 
constantly spray it with fresh urine." Juliet explained 
to her. "It's a small town and everyone is expected to 
do their bit. That means at some point everyone you know 
will come along and piss over your naked body."

"Even the kids?"

"Absolutely. Their urine is especially prized for making 
the softest leather. I can still remember getting into a 
fight with a girl called Jill because she'd deliberately 
aimed into my mother's mouth, which was really mean as 
the woman couldn't swallow. Not that I wasn't quite 
proud that my mother was going to be best quality 
leather, but then she did have lovely smooth skin."

I suppose it's just a necessary bit of an industrial 
process, thought Susan, but could I really be as calm as 
Juliet describing how I saw my mother tied up and 
gutted, then being expected to piss on her? Although, 
maybe I might get a bit turned on by it, like hearing 
about my mother and James? She tried visualising Chloe 
and Becca squatting over her and letting go, that didn't 
help, she wasn't sure if she was excited or disgusted.

"That's me." Juliet concluded. "Where would you have 
ended up if you hadn't entered the lottery?"

Juliet's question was innocent, but, after hearing about 
the process of being tanned, not wanting to be ground 
for pet food seemed a little picky. As a result, Susan 
mumbled her answer dismissively.

"Probably just sent for pet food at the local plant. My 
husband works there."

Juliet winced sympathetically, but she didn't pursue it, 
instead changing the conversation to the perennial 
favourite of children.

****

"Or maybe you'll be gutted." Chloe suggested to her 
mother, watching as Susan picked out clothes to wear to 
the studio. "Like that fat woman with those really 
uneven boobs."

That distracted Susan, it wasn't going to matter what 
she chose to wear now, but she'd been selecting as 
carefully as if she was going for a job interview. Now 
she stood, sensible skirt in hand, wondering how to 
reply to her daughter's casual comment.

She remembered the act Chloe was talking about, the 
woman had been positively gross and her boobs were badly 
mismatched, but how had Chloe seen it? That had been 
three years ago and surely her daughter had been in bed? 
Then there was the humiliation, they'd tied up her poor 
wallowing body so she struggled on the floor like a 
beached whale, and that wasn't just her embarrassed 
fantasy, the set was a seaside scene. Was Chloe hoping 
to break down laughing along with the studio audience, 
with the way of she'd heard people gasping for breath? 
In the end, when Susan did speak, she went for the part 
that honesty compelled her to admit hurt most.

"Are you really comparing me to her?" she asked her 
daughter in a small voice. "Do you really see me as some 
great sweaty whale?"

"No Mum. You're a bit chubby, but not grossly fat like 
she was." Chloe answered with the ruthless honesty only 
a child could get away with. Then, forestalling her 
mother's next question, "And, before you ask, your tits 
are actually pretty even. I was talking about what a 
good show she put on. That's what I'm hoping for, aren't 
you?."

How to answer that? Even now she still couldn't, decide 
what was she hoping for today. The question was too hard 
to answer, and, anyway, there was something else she 
needed to quiz Chloe about.

"How did you manage to watch the telethon three years 
ago?" she demanded. "You were only twelve. Your father 
and I certainly didn't let you watch it. Long before the 
whale came on you'd been tucked up in bed."

"You can record it." Chloe explained in a mock-slow 
voice to her mother, then more normally. "Jenna's dad 
always used to let us watch it the day after. I'd have 
told you before, but you always get so uptight about 
things."

"I'd have banned you from going round to Jenna's, you 
mean." Susan corrected her with a smile.

Chloe gave a secret little smile as she watched her 
mother bend down to pull a practical skirt over an even 
more practical pair of knickers. The girl hadn't 
bothered with knickers. or even a bra today, a fact she 
fondly believed no one knew. Susan knew, but couldn't 
think how to broach the subject, she was pretty sure her 
youngest intended to frig herself as her mother was 
humiliated on national TV.

****

"It wouldn't surprise me if Chloe entered the lottery as 
soon as she's eighteen. I've never known a child so 
obsessed with getting snuffed on telly."

"Well at least she won't end up as a slow hanger." 
Juliet sought to comfort Susan. "There's no way the 
producers would waste someone so young on background. If 
she gets picked she'll definitely have a starring role 
at that age."

It was a sort of comfort. Susan started to speak, 
wanting to hear more, but the ever-frantic Cindy burst 
in on them again.

"Ready ladies?" Cindy asked.

This was it. Neither woman spoke, just nodded.

Barely acknowledging that her charges had been struck 
dumb, after all she must be used to it, Cindy carried 
straight on, "You'll be entering from opposite sides. 
I'll take you round first Juliet, then come back for you 
Susan."

"Don't worry about taking me." Susan told Cindy, finding 
her voice. "Sandy pointed out my studio entrance when 
she was bringing me here."

"Okay. But you'll still need to wait for me, I have to 
let the control room know you're on your way."

Cindy was obviously in a hurry. Susan and Juliet barely 
had a moment for a last word before the girl whisked 
Juliet away. They brushed cheeks, carefully so as not to 
disturb the make-up, and Juliet whispered a last few 
words of advice Susan's ear.

"Don't forget, keep it light. I've felt loads better 
about this by avoiding too many really serious 
conversations."

She's right, I should do, thought Susan. It's not as if 
I don't know treating it as fun helps - this whole thing 
almost felt like a good idea after that conversation 
with Becca.

****

"It is going to be weird seeing someone I know on there, 
mum."

Susan was putting Becca's clothes away in her bedroom. 
She'd had a brief conversation with the back of Becca's 
head, but now her eldest had looked up from her study 
desk to make this comment, scanning her mother's face 
quite closely

"I suppose so." Susan hadn't really thought about that, 
there'd been a couple of people she'd recognised over 
the years, but no one she really knew. "You know you 
don't have to watch if you don't want to?"

"Of course I want to mum." Becca was bristling again, 
annoyed with her mother for constantly dropping hints 
she should give it a miss. "I've already told you it's 
the way I want to get snuffed, and if I get on I'm 
certainly not going to stop my kids from watching."

"You want to be snuffed like that woman last year, 
pissing yourself in a doggy costume as you're whipped 
with razor-wire, she was screaming for over an hour?"

Susan couldn't stop herself. She wasn't even trying to 
dissuade Becca from watching any longer, she just kept 
thinking of everything she'd seen on the telethon over 
the years - and how she was going to be one of those 
women!

"Yes!" her daughter was emphatic. "Get snuffed in a 
blaze of glory on television. It's got to be better than 
some anonymous chop in a slaughterhouse, or going to 
dad's place and being thrown in the grinder. I don't 
want to go to dogfood at the bottom of a pile of rejects 
- probably with my face jammed in some fat slapper's 
bottom."

Or worse, thought Susan, now she'd discovered what had 
happened with her mother and James. Mind you, from the 
way Becca was talking, she might think going like mum an 
improvement.

She didn't mention her own mother's snuff, instead 
asking her daughter, "That's all very well, but, if you 
did get on the telethon someday, how do you know you 
won't end up suffocated under some large woman's 
backside anyway? It wouldn't be that surprising if they 
came up with something like that."

"But it's different doing it for the show." pointed out 
Becca, cutting to heart of the matter as far as she was 
concerned. "Who's going to worry if she's a bit sweaty 
and smelly. Even if she takes a crap that's just a bonus 
- imagine the cheer you'd get." 


Or that could be me, Susan couldn't help thinking. I 
don't know what part I'll be taking yet.

"I don't know why you're going on at me like this mum." 
Becca continued, pulling Susan back from an image of her 
face swallowed by a massive arse-crack. "It's a bit 
unfair. If not for the show, why did you enter the 
telethon?"

To avoid all this, her mother thought, even if sometimes 
I almost feel like I want to. I think I'm not really 
trying to put Becca off, just convince myself.

"Not every woman can be snuffed on TV." Susan pointed 
out to her daughter. "Most women will end up going for 
some sort of butchery, and there's nothing wrong with 
that. I know Brooke's mum went for pet food last week, 
your dad told me. It wouldn't be very nice to lord it 
over your friend just because I'm on the telethon would 
it?"

"I suppose not. It's just I can't believe how lucky 
you've been."

Becca's nearly contrite answer finally made Susan 
realise how many people, especially her daughters, 
wanted what she'd got without even trying. She still 
wasn't convinced she was happy about it, but she vowed 
to make a real effort.

****

Susan reached the last junction and turned into the 
corridor leading to the studio, walking into a bustle of 
people. Despite her fears, not many of them gave her 
nakedness more than a single glance, most seeming 
frantically busy. There were three people interested in 
her though, a couple of young women in long dresses 
standing to one side at the far end, watching closely as 
Susan wended her way carefully towards them down the 
corridor, and a young man, equipped like Cindy with a 
headset, beckoning frantically at her from next to them.

"Quickly, quickly." he urged her as she neared him. "We 
need you on now."

"Oh." answered Susan in confusion. "I thought I had a 
few minutes."

The young man, looking quite annoyed, answered 
distractedly, "You did, but the last woman snuffed 
early. Who goes down when they've only had their tongue 
cut out?"

The studio door opened, and another pair of beautiful 
young women in satin ball gowns came through, carrying 
the body of Susan's predecessor between them. He was 
being a little unfair, Susan thought. The woman looked 
like she'd been used as dartboard, her torso covered in 
pricks of blood. Her slightly tired but still quite 
youthful face was unexpectedly undamaged, apart from the 
crimson stream still dripping from her mouth.

The two loitering women moved to either side of Susan, 
taking up positions like an honour-guard. Susan opened 
her mouth to talk to them when there was another tinny 
little sound in the assistants headset. The door opened, 
and Susan found herself propelled into a suddenly 
brighter world.

"Next we have Susan, a mother of two from Southside who 
works as an office administrator. Come on up Susan."

That was Bill "Double-Drop" Ritchie, the genial host of 
the telethon for over a decade. Susan stepped cautiously 
into the dazzling studio lights, blinking a little as 
her eyes adjusted. Despite promises to herself, she 
couldn't help hunching up a little, sharply aware of her 
nakedness.

****

As her eyes adjusted she could take in the set, spread 
out before her. Sparkles seemed to be the theme this 
year, everything glittering in silver and gold. Against 
the back wall was the traditional row of slow-hangers, 
all purple faces and pointlessly pistoning legs. Even as 
she watched one hung still, her bladder releasing onto 
the head of her replacement, kneeling quietly 
underneath.

A quick sweep took in the other familiar games of the 
telethon. The rack corner, the dart board, the dunk tank 
(can you hold your breath for five minutes while trained 
piranhas eat your nipples?) and, of course, the 
quizmaster's podium. This year's podium was particularly 
spectacular, made to look as though it had been built 
out of naked women tied together.

Susan lurched forward to climb up the steps to join the 
host. Only realising, as she came closer, that the 
bound, naked women of the podium were real, and already 
looking the worse for wear. Her two supporters left her 
at the foot of the steps and she climbed cautiously up, 
balancing as best she could against the flimsy handrail. 
The fine points of her stiletto's sank into the exposed 
flesh beneath them, giving her arrival its own personal 
fanfare - the wails of suffering women.

Even climbing cautiously Susan managed to lose her 
balance a couple of steps from the top. Reeling 
backwards her entire weight came to rest on one minute 
heel, sinking it deep into the 'floor' beneath her. A 
bubbling gurgle made her look down. She stared, 
dumbfounded. Her heel had sunk right through the already 
mangled breast of the woman she was standing on, 
disappearing to its full length into her chest. Susan 
stood for a moment in awe, she had just snuffed someone.

It wasn't deliberate, but the shock of snuffing another 
woman gave Susan the jolt she needed. She could have 
been some anonymous cow stuck in the staircase, not even 
dispatched deliberately, just trodden on by a nervous 
old woman in unsuitable heels. Instead she was being 
given a starring role, a chance to go out in style. Her 
face broke out in a genuine smile as she positively 
tripped up the last few steps.

"Glad you could join us Susan." Bill greeted her. "How 
do you like our new staircase?"

A moment ago she'd probably just have mumbled some 
response. Now, on an adrenaline high, Susan positively 
gushed with enthusiasm.

"Brilliant Bill. I almost wish I was a step of myself."

"Don't worry Susan, I think you'll find we've got 
something even better planned for you." replied Bill, 
easily joining in the jovial mood.

Susan beamed even wider at this. Unconsciously arching 
her back to push out her tits, something she'd never 
have thought of doing before.

"Unfortunately Susan." Bill informed her, with mock 
concern. "We introduced a rule with our new staircase. 
Any contestant who snuffs a step has to take one swat to 
their arse from that step's husband.

That doesn't sound so bad, thought Susan. Then she 
remembered last year, when the swats had all been 
delivered with axes.

"Don't worry love, we're not using axes this year." the 
host told her, apparently reading her mind. He paused 
for effect, and pulled something out from behind his 
desk. "It's baseball bats now!"

An excited man was already running up the stairs, 
completely ignoring his late wife as his foot crashed 
down on her mutilated body. Before Susan could really 
take it in she found herself bent over the desk. Next 
moment she heard, rather than felt, a squelching thud 
that knocked her sharply forward.

As the pain hit her, and she raised her head to gasp, 
her voice was silenced in shock. Projected, forty foot 
across, on a screen at the rear was her own backside, 
dark pubic hairs and patches of cellulite quite clearly 
visible. Susan found herself watching with interest as a 
slow-motion bat crashed into her sagging cheeks, fatty 
ripples wobbling away through her skin. It should have 
been a moment of pain and humiliation, but she was 
actually grinning and bringing her hands round to add 
two further slaps.

"That was refreshing." she announced, getting a roar of 
mirth from the audience, who could clearly see the 
bruised red welt across her buttocks.

"Okay everyone." the host raised his hands to quieten 
the audience's laughter. "Let's hear your appreciation 
for Susan's opponent - a chef and also a mother of two - 
Juliet. Come on up Juliet!"

Standing to one side, her bottom feeling like it was on 
fire, Susan still found herself caught up in the moment 
- smiling and clapping as Juliet cautiously stepped up 
to the platform from the other side. Her ascent was 
accompanied by a series of whimpers and howls, but 
presumably no kills. At any rate she wasn't invited to 
bend over and have her buttocks mashed.

"What on earth happened to you?" Juliet whispered, as 
she moved to stand beside Susan.

"Got a bat on my bum after I snuffed one of the step 
women with my shoe." she whispered back. "Just count 
yourself lucky you're a better walker than me, my 
bottom's on fire."

"I'm not so sure. I think your bum may have got the 
audience on-side." Juliet giggled.

"Okay ladies." Double-Drop's voice boomed out next to 
them. "Let me explain the rules of 'Lose It', the game 
you'll be playing tonight."

****

"That's Susan from work." Marlene told her husband, as 
he came back into the lounge with a fresh beer.

He peered at the screen. "Oh that's who you were on 
about. Isn't she married to James, bloke who works at 
the pet food plant?"

"That's the one."

"He's a laugh. You should hear his stories about what 
they get up to when they're quiet. It's amazing what you 
can get away with when all your meat's going to end up 
in the grinder."

"You do remember that my mum ended up there?" Marlene 
admonished, a little pained by the possibilities her 
husband was hinting at.

"And Susan's mother apparently." he replied, completely 
unabashed. "You should hear what James did with her."

Marlene didn't want to know what James did with his 
mother-in-law, but luckily her own husband's attention 
was diverted by the sight of Susan's bruised buttocks on 
the screen.

"What happened to her arse?"

"Slipped on the steps. Her stiletto went right into the 
women she was standing on and she had to pay a forfeit."

"Nice," he grunted with approval. "She's certainly got 
plenty there to play with."

"It's not a bad bum for her age." Marlene defended 
Susan. "Mine's not much better - and that could have 
been my arse you were watching."

"I'm not complaining. Come over here and we'll see if I 
object to yours."

I should have remembered he always gets randy on 
telethon night thought Marlene, as she licked her 
husband's cock clean after a brief but forceful session 
in her rectum. Even after all these years gagging a 
little at the taste of her own shit.



-------------------------------
Chapter Five - Playing the Game
-------------------------------

Sandy was quite a way from the studio, making herself a 
coffee in the staff kitchen, but she could still hear 
Double-Drop's distinctive tones humming in the walls. If 
he had started the next segment she could finally relax 
- her last two protégés were safely in the studio.

Sandy had a very practical country attitude to snuff, 
that's why she'd been the company's most successful 
recruiter for several years. The fact that it was her 
turn didn't bother her in the way it did urban women who 
were away from the cycles of nature. Despite that she 
did have one slight regret - she'd always hoped to be 
snuffed in the family's abattoir. If only she didn't 
have such a strong sense of fair play, then she wouldn't 
have felt the need, each year she'd recruited for the TV 
studios, to put her own name down on the list. She had 
though, taking her chances with all the other women 
she'd recruited.

Regretfully putting aside a vision of her husband 
working her over with both his choppers, Sandy opened 
her locker to pull out the package with the costume 
she'd been assigned. John in wardrobe had asked her not 
to peek, said he'd done something special for her, so 
this was her first chance to see what she'd be wearing. 

****

"Well Susan. It looks like you've lost the first round." 
Double-Drop paused to let the cheering subside a little. 
"Time to spin the wheel!"

It had been unexpected fun so far, Susan was still 
smiling as Juliet reached out and pressed the button 
sending the wheel of forfeits whirling round on the big 
screen behind them. It was only as it started to slow, 
and the camera moved in show the pictures round the edge 
coming into focus, that she recalled what was about to 
happen. The wheel clicked ever more slowly, the camera 
zooming in on the pointer, almost coming to rest on a 
drawing of a belly, before finally clicking once more to 
land on a small pile of fingers.

Given the serious forfeits she'd missed as they clicked 
passed, Susan's first thought was to wonder if the game 
was fixed. She almost got indignant before grasping that 
it hardly mattered. Then she realised that Bill was 
addressing her.

"And don't forget the rules. Thirty seconds from the 
horn to recreate the picture, then my assistants get to 
encourage you."

Bill's assistants, two cheerful young men holding heavy 
little whips, gave a smile and a wave to the cameras 
before turning to carefully watch the two women. 

There were a tense few seconds as Juliet fumbled in the 
'goody box', but then she straightened up - triumphantly 
holding a pair of heavy-duty snips. Susan knew her 
opponent wasn't without compassion, but the woman was so 
relieved that she only looked pleased as she grabbed the 
hand that Susan held out. 

****

Those boys in wardrobe do like a laugh thought Sandy, as 
she left the staff kitchen and headed for the studio. 
The costume she was now wearing had more than a hint of 
milkmaid about it, although it was unlikely that any 
milkmaid before had worn a skirt that didn't even cover 
her pussy. It wasn't that Sandy was worried about her 
body, but it did have a sturdy country build, not really 
suited to the rather winsome frills that now failed to 
cover it.

"Hiya Sandy. ready for milking?"

That was George, one of the assistants she worked with, 
trying not to smirk. She knew she looked a bit 
ridiculous. Her pendulous breasts sagged down over a top 
that had been low-cut to show off a rather more buoyant 
pair of tits, and her legs were far too fat and well-
muscled to look like anything but sacks of potatoes in 
sheer white stockings. Finally there was her backside, 
where an arse that should have just peaked out under the 
skirt was instead slumped in saggy folds over the top of 
the stockings.

It wasn't in Sandy's nature to worry much about her 
appearance - she'd always been more interested in having 
a laugh than looking like a fashion plate. That's why, 
instead of getting upset over the teasing, she reached 
behind George's head and pushed him down into her 
cleavage.

"Fancy having a go on these udders?"

George's answer from deep between her sizeable breasts 
wasn't intelligible, so she took her hand off the lad to 
let him up. When he emerged, there was no mistaking the 
smirk.

"Now Sandy." he parodied admonishing her. "You know 
we're not allowed to play with the show girls."

"Shame." she pouted back, equally frivolously. "Just 
slap my arse to get me in the mood and I promise not to 
tell anyone about your shocking behaviour."

George gave her a resounding slap and Sandy giggled, he 
even tweaked the jewellery in one of her nipples. Unlike 
the woman competing in the studio at the moment, Sandy's 
own breasts had been pierced with heavy rings for years, 
and she made no secret in the office that she'd been 
hung from them before now. That's why a little twinge 
from a twisted nipple just made her Sandy there was time 
to bend over George's knee - he was rather good-looking 
- but she had an appointment to keep.

****

"And Juliet's lost that one again."

Another spin, then a slight gasp from beside her. The 
picture was clearly a woman suspended by her breasts and 
crotch. No wonder their piercings were so sturdy.

"How are we going to manage this." whispered Susan to 
Juliet, as three hooks descended.

It was going to be a little awkward hooking on Juliet's 
rings. As well as her fingers in the first round Susan 
had lost the second and taken a needle to her eye. The 
audience had loved that but it was making focussing 
difficult. The real problem they had was Juliet, she'd 
lost the third round and her left nipple. The nipple, 
and the ring so recently pierced through it, were now 
lying disregarded on the floor.

The hooks came within reach and the horn sounded. Only 
thirty seconds! If they couldn't think of something 
they'd be flogged until they snuffed, and on only the 
fourth round!

They both were thinking of the teasing their daughters 
would take if they went out now. That inspired Juliet to 
grab the remains of her left teat and push it towards 
Susan saying. "Just shove the hook in this and hope the 
end's sharp enough to go through."

There wasn't time for discussion. Susan grabbed the hook 
and forced the end - luckily it was extremely sharp - 
through the soft female flesh that was presented to her. 
She didn't even have time to think about the pain or 
damage she was causing - although Juliet's whimpering 
response was a clue - as she hurried to hook up the 
remaining piercings.

The second horn went as Susan finished fumbling in her 
fellow contestant's crotch. Before she could straighten 
up she felt a horrible stinging, as though her back had 
been sliced open. A yell from Juliet, matching hers, 
removed all doubt as to why. Seizing the tiniest of 
overruns, they'd been lashed by the two assistants. The 
pain was so intense, she wondered what the whips could 
be made of.

****

"That's better."

"How do you mean Chloe?" James was looking with interest 
at his younger daughter after her emphatic outburst.

"They were just being too good. Half the fun is in 
seeing them catch it when they fail."

"Come on Chloe." Becca chimed in, defending their 
mother. "You've got to be impressed with the way mum 
took having her fingers cut off. That Juliet woman 
really botched up the third one. I'd like to see you not 
pulling away."

"Go and find some snips them." Chloe suggested. "I bet I 
can do as well."

"Girls!" James admonished them. "No-one is cutting 
anybody's fingers off today. If you're that determined 
to be cut up you'll have to wait until you're old enough 
to enter a lottery."

"But that's ages away." Chloe started to complain, a 
handful of years being a long time at her age.

"Quiet Chlo." Becca shushed her. "Mum's just lost the 
round and they're going to be getting Juliet down."

"What's she losing this time?" their father asked, his 
attention returning to the screen.

"It's her cervix!"

"Excellent!" James smiled. "You'll get to see  your 
mum's snatch ripped wide open. How did she take it?"

"A bit upset, but not bad."

"I'm not surprised. It was the being exposed part she 
really wasn't looking forward to."

"But if she went to a slaughterhouse she'd be naked, 
surely?"

"Yes, but not in front of millions."

****

Now Susan was sure the game, or at least the wheel of 
forfeits, was fixed, but she'd decided that wasn't a bad 
thing. Whoever had decided the sequence of their 
torments knew how to put on a good show.

It was amazing Juliet had won the last round. Flailing 
around as she hung in the air her breasts had become 
badly stretched, the question marks embedded in them 
more like exclamation marks now. As for her crotch, that 
had been even more distracting - nearly every moment 
Susan had expected Juliet's pussy to be scalped. The 
hanging woman had been constantly whimpering in pain as 
her own weight slowly ripped the ring out of her clit.

"Okay boys! Let's get the gorgeous Juliet down and see 
if she can get Susan's cunt baby-popping wide!"

"Sure thing Mr Ritchie!" the assistants announced in 
unison, smiling particularly broadly.

Susan still naively assumed they'd lower Juliet down and 
unhook her. That wasn't what happened, of course it 
wasn't, it had become clear that in every round you 
would lose something. Instead, each lad grabbed a leg 
and, to the sound of an enormous shriek, yanked hard. 
Juliet came crashing down, tits and cunt ripping open. 
Susan had been right, a little pubic scalp did still 
dangle from the end of one of the wires.

The first horn went. Juliet, acting almost on automatic, 
dragged herself upright. The audience applauded as the 
camera panned over her body, with its once decent tits 
torn open, their fatty meat oozing out and the raw hole, 
blood dripping, where her clit used to be. Screwed up in 
her own torment, Juliet barely looked at Susan as she 
lay on the table, just reaching straight for the 
undamaged cunt between her legs. Susan couldn't help 
looking at Juliet, even as she felt her sex being 
invaded. What was it going to feel like if her boobs 
were ripped apart like that, and, gulp, having your clit 
torn out.

"This is a tough challenge and she's pretty messed up. 
Is she going to make it before the whipping? Let's give 
her some encouragement." Bill shouted, whipping up the 
audience to cheer and holler.

Susan quickly forgot any worries about future damage to 
her body, the current abuse was filling her 
consciousness. She'd been fisted before, but with one 
hand, slowly, and lubricated. Now she was getting two 
hands brutally shoved up her pussy with painful force, 
and she knew when they were in they'd be yanked wide 
enough for Double-Drop to reach in and cut out her 
cervix.

****

"Hello mum." announced a familiar face as it stepped out 
of a shadow, it's grin so wide it threatened to split 
the skin on the cheeks. "You ready for this?"

Sandy was genuinely surprised, though very pleased. Her 
daughter Taylor was waiting by the studio entrance, 
dressed in the floor-length gown, cut to the waist, that 
all the curvy young assistants who drifted around the 
set were wearing this year. To be honest, if Sandy 
hadn't seen Taylor emerge from her own vagina she 
wouldn't have believed they were related. Skinny and 
with the smallest pair of tits, plus never-ending legs 
running from pert little buttocks to almost miniature 
feet, she was almost the complete opposite of her short 
and dumpy mother.

"Taylor!" Sandy gave her daughter a hug, reaching up to 
get her arms over the girl's shoulders. "How lovely 
you're here! Are you going to help send your old mother 
off?"

"Reckon I will this time mum." her daughter answered 
cheerfully.

That was a family joke, all her children knew how 
difficult Taylor's birth had been. Although, to be fair, 
that wasn't really Taylor's fault. At the time Sandy had 
been suspended from her wrists, while her husband used 
her contractions to massage the dick he had in her arse. 
Taylor's first, but with her looks not last, experience 
of spunk had been her father's jism landing on her 
newly-born head. 

When Sandy had started her job with the studios she 
hadn't understood why so many women were nervous about 
what they'd be doing on the telethon. It took several 
conversations with her colleagues to before she was 
convinced that most city husbands didn't routinely beat 
their wives. Sandy reckoned they were missing out on 
something.

****

"A bit slow that time. Never mind, we'll see if you can 
be faster on your forfeit after the next round."

The two women braced themselves.

"Which we'll do as soon as we've got another woman 
racked up." he turned to face the camera. "We've got a 
little cracker stretching on the rack now. The betting 
lines are open, so let's hear those phones ringing!"

Double-Drop was his usual cheerful self. His two 
contestants were still keeping their smiles on as the 
camera cut away, but finding it difficult to balance 
upright. They'd been whipped for nearly ten seconds 
before Juliet had ripped Susan's cunt wide enough for 
her cervix to be snipped. Now Juliet's back and Susan's 
breasts were a mass of angry red welts. The whipping had 
been brutal enough to almost cause Susan to forget the 
destruction being wrought inside her pussy.

"Sorry about that." groaned Juliet to Susan, her hand 
instinctively seeking to sooth the remains of her clit, 
before she winced and pulled it away. "You were just so 
tight down there. It's hard to believe you've had two 
children."

"That's okay, I know you did your best." Susan answered, 
before being distracted by the action at the side of the 
studio's stage. "Isn't that Sandy walking to the rack? 
It is, look at the size of those legs. I reckon James 
will have a tenner on her doing at least two hours."

****

Sandy, grinning and waving, was lead in by her daughter, 
the chain attached to her hefty nipple-rings. 
Occasionally she'd hang back, knowing, as she was pulled 
forward, the audience reaction to her tits being 
stretched in front of her. Taylor had seen the abuse her 
mother's breasts could take, she wasn't being delicate 
as she yanked her forwards.

"And Sandy's being racked up today by her daughter 
Taylor." a disembodied voice informed the audience, 
drawing another cheer. "I think you'll find Taylor has 
planned a few extra surprises for her mother."

"Extra surprises." Sandy grinned as they reached the 
rack. "And this from the girl who turned down a date 
with Sam Heston to help with her Aunt Beth's dissection 
- even though she'd left school two years ago."

"And a girl who's seen what you and father got up to. 
You do know all us kids used to spy on you two when dad 
wanted special time? Anyway, I thought you could do with 
one last fuck."

Sandy didn't look shocked to hear her kids had seen her 
naked and beaten - or even being screwed - she'd 
suspected as much. She hadn't minded, an audience always 
seemed to heighten the experience, just like tonight.

Mother and daughter had arrived where they needed to be.

"Wow!" was all Sandy could find to say.

They'd arrived at the rack, or at least the TV friendly 
version that the telethon people used. A rectangular 
steel frame, nearly upright, with hydraulics in each 
corner for an intensely slow racking. This one had also 
been fitted with a DP machine, and there was a fifth 
hydraulic setup a few feet in front.

Sandy reached out to touch the dildos on the DP machine, 
glittering in the light "Ooh, that's like sandpaper."

"Diamond coated." her daughter announced proudly. Then 
she gave a sly grin, "And have you noticed the extra 
tit-rack they've added."

Sandy practically threw herself into the device. She 
could only mouth a 'Thank you' to Taylor. This was going 
out in style.

"Thought you might appreciate that." Taylor smirked, as 
she locked her mother's wrists in place. "The number of 
times I've seen those great udders of your stretched 
from the beam in the kitchen."  

****

For a moment Susan thought they'd got the same picture 
again. Then she realised the arm she was seeing, in up 
to the elbow, wasn't going into that hole.

The audience were going wild. Susan could appreciate 
why, and, from the look on her face, so could Juliet.

"Good luck love." Juliet managed to say, as she hauled 
her mutilated body into position to be strapped down. 

"And this forfeit involves a special challenge for you 
Susan. Can you find one of Juliet's lovely kidneys?"

Bill telling her of the task she needed to complete for 
this forfeit wasn't a surprise to Susan, anal fisting 
always required you to rip out a vital organ on the 
telethon, that's why she and Juliet had been so 
disconcerted when it came up. But how did you even 
identify a kidney? At least she'd give the audience a 
laugh when she pulled out the wrong bits.

The horn went, but Susan couldn't move for a second, 
gazing at the tight little puckered hole she was about 
to plunder - it didn't even have the slightly ragged 
look of an arsehole that had been regularly fucked. The 
tiny delay brought a grunt from Juliet, anxious to avoid 
the whip at, literally, any cost. Reminded of her task, 
Susan reached in to begin forcing her fingers into the 
sphincter, though she couldn't help wondering if 
Juliet's ruined chest would even notice being whipped 
now.

There wasn't time to try to be gentle, even if Susan had 
wanted to. There was a groaning spasm from Juliet as she 
finally drove her good hand through the tortured woman's 
broken sphincter. Then the groaning turned to howls as 
she frenziedly groped in that soft warm interior, trying 
to find anywhere she could gain a grip.

Next moment Juliet was screaming as Susan wrenched her 
hand back out, leaving the other woman's arsehole a torn 
and gaping cavern. Susan choked on the stench, but all 
she held was a handful of shit-covered intestine.

"Good start there from Susan, but she'll need to get 
right back in if she's hoping to get a kidney in time."

Susan didn't need that reminder. She was already 
plunging back in to Juliet's ravaged guts.

****

"That's more like it. Look how that Juliet is bucking as 
mum rips all those shitty innards out of her."

"I just wish it was mum being gutted. What a display!"

"Don't worry girls." James reassured his daughters. "I'm 
pretty sure your mother's new friend isn't going to 
survive this, lots of women don't survive a gutting even 
when it's done cleanly with a knife. That means your mum 
will get to choose how she snuffed."

"I know, that's the problem." Chloe complained. "You 
know mum'll choose an axe or something like that."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that." 

James gave a secret smile. He reckoned he knew his wife 
even better than she did herself. On the screen, her 
thirty seconds up, Susan might be shrieking as a whip 
cut into her back, but he still reckoned she'd choose 
something dramatic when it came down to it.



----------------------------
Chapter Six - Susan's Choice
----------------------------

"Well done there Susan! I think you've finally got it!"

Susan did her best to stand, even though her back felt 
like it was on fire and she could feel warm blood 
running down her legs. The clock showed she'd overrun by 
almost a minute, and most of Juliet's guts were lying 
discarded on the floor round her. Susan did her best to 
smile as she triumphantly held up the kidney, finding 
even that an effort. Her eyes were drawn to Juliet's 
chest, which had been lashed so hard the ribs were 
showing, the already mutilated breasts now flayed right 
off . From the agony she was in her back must look like 
that as well.

It was a moment before she took in Double-Drop's 
announcement.

"After that splendid example of manual gutting we can 
safely say Susan here has successfully snuffed Juliet. 
That makes Susan our winner!"

There was one last shot of Juliet, her body almost still 
apart from the odd slight twitch. Then the lights dimmed 
as the action moved elsewhere in the studio.

As soon as the cameras were off them Susan turned to 
Bill, who was downing a bottle of water, handed to him 
by an assistant who had rushed up as soon as the lights 
dimmed.

"Who's in charge of the slow-hangers?" he was demanding 
of another assistant. "Those two in the corner pissed 
themselves over ten minutes ago. Why aren't there a 
fresh pair doing the final dance?"

"I don't know Mr Ritchie. I'll get right on it." the 
young woman said apologetically.

"Do that. Find out who's responsible and tell them if it 
happens again they'll be the next one up." he sounded 
exasperated.

Susan hesitated, she had been going to ask what happened 
now, but maybe that wasn't such a good idea. Hosting 
twenty-four hours of live TV was obviously very 
stressful. Instead she turned to see what action the 
cameras were currently covering.

****

Sandy had been securely strapped to the rack, the heavy 
metal cuffs already digging in a little. She squirmed in 
a little more discomfort where the ends of the dildos 
had been pushed firmly against her holes, their rough 
surfaces already irritating tender skin.

"Ready to go mum?" Taylor asked, slowly untying the 
halter of her dress as a camera moved round her.

"I'm ready, but what are you doing?" Sandy asked in some 
surprise, as her daughter began sliding the delicate 
material down her legs.

"Just getting ready to operate the on switch." Taylor 
told her mother as she slipped off her panties, a big 
grin on her face. She bent over to give the camera a 
good close up. "Didn't I mentioned I'd entered the 
lottery this year and won? The producers were delighted 
when they found out we'd both be in it."

The sight of Taylor standing naked in front of her, 
smooth skin shaven clean, was beautiful. Sandy would 
have hugged her daughter if she wasn't strapped in, 
instead all she could do was blow her a kiss.

"As soon as I pull down on this rope." Taylor told her, 
grabbing a rope with a familiar knot on the end. "I'll 
start your ultimate fuck and stretch."

The audience were showing their appreciation. Taylor 
milked the moment, easing the noose over her head before 
pausing on the edge. Next moment Taylor stepped off, the 
rope fixed so she swung clear of the platform. Her slow 
and painful strangulation begun, she danced wildly in 
the air.

Almost as soon as Taylor stepped off Sandy felt a slight 
movement in the cuffs around her wrists and ankles, and 
an uncomfortable probing between her legs. It was a slow 
start, leaving her plenty of time to admire her 
daughter's final dance. She was barely more than 
wincing, and that from a sandpapering of her pussy and 
colon, when Taylor pissed herself and hung still.

****

"Well done Susan!"

The cameras back on them, Double-Drop was holding the 
winner's hand aloft.

Susan managed another smile, it had felt surprisingly 
good snuffing Juliet, she certainly hadn't expected 
that. Something she wouldn't have contemplated doing 
before, she made a point of lifting her right hand to 
triumphantly lick her opponents shit, still smeared over 
it.

"Would you like to celebrate on Juliet's body before we 
show you your choices?"

She'd thought about this before and wasn't going to take 
up the offer. Susan might have known that, in any game 
on the telethon, the winner  was traditionally expected 
to take a shit in their opponents face - if she still 
could - but she'd decided to maintain a little dignity. 
After that she planned to choose the fastest snuff on 
offer. When she'd met Juliet, and found out how alike 
they were, she'd suggested - and Juliet had agreed - 
whichever of them won, they'd give the celebrations a 
miss.

"I'd love to Bill. She looks ready for a face full of 
steaming turds."

****

Many people missed Susan's triumph, particularly those 
who liked a flutter. They'd switched channel to watch 
the continuous coverage of Sandy on the rack. She'd just 
been told there were more bets riding on her than any 
other woman yet.

"That's brilliant!" Sandy managed to smile, even though 
there had just been a distinct pop as the first of her 
joints dislocated. "Although I reckon a lot of it's down 
to the way my Taylor started me off."

She looked proudly over to where her daughter's svelte 
young body still swung.

"So how are you finding the little additions that Taylor 
arranged?"

"I'll be honest, I'm hardly noticing the tit stretching 
yet, but then these udders of mine have taken a lot of 
abuse over the years." Sandy told a new young woman, 
skirt cut almost to her chest, who was holding a 
microphone in front of her face. "That fucking machine's 
bloody painful though, I think it's already worn my 
arsehole away."

****

"Beautiful crapping there Susan. I loved the way you 
used her nose to wipe yourself." Bill turned serious, or 
as serious as he could ever manage when a camera was on 
him. "But now it's the moment when you get to choose 
your own snuff. Let's have a look down tonight's list. 
Which one do you fancy."

Susan turned from staring at what she'd done on Juliet's 
face - had she really just voluntarily taken a shit in 
front of the whole country? - to focus on the list the 
big screen now displayed. There on the list was the 
guillotine - the snuff she'd planned. Susan had never 
understood why nearly every winner opted for something 
lingering and painful.

"I'll go for the anal cone Bill. Get my arsehole spread 
even wider than Juliet's."

That drew a huge cheer from the studio audience. Susan, 
even though she was smiling, could hardly believe what 
she'd heard herself say. Had she really just asked to be 
winched slowly down onto a massive metal cone, driving 
into her bowels, its rapidly expanding girth splitting 
her open? She'd seen it used a couple of years ago, when 
the woman's crotch had literally split apart after her 
pelvis cracked.

****

"I'd love to get a blowjob off your mum now, she looks 
ready for anything. I reckon we'd be talking some proper 
puking deep throat."

"Eurgh dad! Do you have to?"

James ignored his daughter's complaint, it was barely 
more than an automatic reaction anyway - the girl hadn't 
even taken her eyes off the screen.

"Look at the way mum's stepping up to the cone." Chloe 
was giving a running commentary. Enthralled, she was 
barely even noticing the conversation around her. "I'd 
never have thought she'd volunteer to be snuffed so 
painfully, and now she's positively rushing to be 
buggered until her ripping arsehole does for her."

"I told you your mum'd surprise you." James couldn't 
help reminding his daughters. "Of course it's not being 
split open that's actually going to do for her."

Becca looked a little incredulous at this. "She's about 
to have her twat ripped in two, and you're saying that 
won't actually snuff her?"

"That cone thing is well-designed." her father answered, 
ignoring his daughters impatient look. "Do you see how 
it's smooth on the top and then splays out faster and 
faster?"

"Yes, but surely that just means it'll rip her open 
quicker." Becca answered, annoyed. She always got a bit 
tense when her father lectured her, probably because he 
tended to be right.

Chloe had turned round to listen now. She had a little 
time, they were showing a montage of her mother and 
Juliet's competition.

"It does, but that's because they want your mother to 
feel herself being ripped open before she's snuffed."

"How is she going to be snuffed them?" Chloe chimed in, 
saving Becca from having to ask.

"Asphyxiation." James smiled at the shocked looks on his 
daughter's faces. He went on, putting them out of their 
misery, "That's why the tip of the cone's smooth, so 
that it won't rupture her diaphragm. It'll squash up 
everything inside her, making it harder and harder to 
breathe, until she can't any more."

"She's actually going to be snuffed like the slow-
hangers?!"

"Pretty much. She won't be able to move her legs, but 
watch her hands, they should give us a final dance."

"They're back!" Chloe waved her sister and father's 
attention back to the screen. "Mum's about to say 
something."

The image on the screen zoomed in on Susan's face. The 
girls' mouths fell open when their mother, who hadn't 
wanted to be naked and abused, winked at the camera. She 
even broke into a smile as the studio audience cheered.

"Are you ready to see me split my beaver?!"

Her daughters were shocked, they had never seen this 
side to their mother, but then, neither had their 
mother. Even sitting at home they joined in 
enthusiastically with the studio audience's chant of, 
"Yes! Yes! Yes!"

James, sitting back a little, could see both his 
daughters as well as the action on the screen. He 
noticed, as Susan lowered herself onto the tip of the 
cone and let her ankles be chained, how Chloe's hand 
pushed underneath the waistband of her jeans. Becca, 
caught up in the moment as well, hadn't noticed what her 
little sister was doing. Neither of them saw James 
massaging his own crotch.

****

In the studio Susan soon felt the intense throb of flesh 
under extreme tension as her sphincter rapidly expanded 
to its absolute limit. After the destruction she'd 
inflicted on Juliet's arse and guts this seemed like a 
fitting way to be snuffed. She'd never have believed 
before she could have carried on torturing another woman 
as her actions caused shrieks of agony, but she'd found 
it surprisingly easy to keep smiling, even while 
wrenching out the shit-smeared contents of Juliet's 
stomach.

"Look at that tension folks! There's a ring about to 
snap."

That was Bill, whipping up the, already noisy, audience. 
Susan craned her head round. It wasn't a surprise to see 
another close-up of her crotch on the big screen, her 
arsehole a thin white band around the massive intruder.

****

"She's grabbed her nipple rings. It's like she's trying 
to rip her tits off!"

The last few minutes had held Susan's family glued to 
the screen. She'd started off smiling and waving, 
occasionally giving little 'oh's' first of surprise, 
then of discomfort, as her ring was jerked wider on the 
cone. It hadn't been too long before the clowning 
stopped, around the time a close-up showed the first 
trickle of blood.

When Chloe commented on her mother's wild tugging at her 
tits, Susan's arsehole had long since gone. Now a white 
line of brutally stretched flesh was extending up her 
pussy like a Brasilian. James knew what was happening.

"She must already be having trouble breathing." he 
explained to his daughters. "That's the beauty of 
leaving her hands free. I wouldn't be surprised pretty 
soon if she doesn't rip her boobs to shreds trying to 
drag in some air."

"Wow!" was all Chloe could find to say. She'd clearly 
gone beyond caring if anybody saw, and was openly 
squeezing one of her own little boobs through her thin 
T-shirt, keeping in time with her mother's frantic 
clawings on the screen.

****

Chloe audibly came when her mother's increasingly 
frantic grasping finally did rip a ring from her breast, 
nearly the whole nipple still attached. Susan barely 
noticed, continuing to desperately rend her abused 
flesh.

Susan might have thought that unable to breathe and 
shredding her own body was the peak of her torment. Then 
a crack and a horrible feeling of tearing between her 
legs crashed through her mangled body like an explosion. 
The ringing shock of agony in her ears almost drowned 
out the tremendous burst of appreciative noise from the 
audience. Susan knew, even without looking, that, just 
as predicted, her crotch had split open as her pelvis 
gave way.

****

"Gerroff Becca! That's not funny."

Intent on her mother's, now lifeless, body on the 
screen. Chloe hadn't noticed her older sister quietly 
moving around behind her as she continued to furiously 
massage her clit. When Becca had reached round, to grab 
Chloe's tits and squeeze them hard, it had thrust her 
little sister over the edge again and she'd come loudly. 
Brought back to where she was, Chloe tried to hide her 
embarrassment with anger at sister.

"Admit it Cloth-Ears." Becca teased her little sister. 
"You're just a snuff-bunny waiting for its chance."

"Dad!" wailed Chloe, trying to ignore the fact that her 
grinning sister's insinuation was probably true. "Make 
her stop. It's not funny."

"Becca, stop goading your sister." James answered, 
absentmindedly. "If Chloe wants to be a snuff-bunny you 
shouldn't be teasing her about it."

Both the sisters stopped at this, rather surprised. 
They'd not heard their father say anything like that 
before. James barely noticed their astonishment, he'd 
got something else on his mind.

****

While he hadn't made a fuss about it, James really was 
proud his wife had been chosen to appear on the 
telethon, especially in such a starring role. The only 
downside for him was missing out on something he'd been 
looking forward to for years.

A lot of his friends and colleagues had had their wives 
called up. Most had been sent to his factory, it was the 
usual fate for women living locally. That was what he'd 
been hoping for Susan. The advantage of all the women 
being ground was that nobody really cared what condition 
the meat arrived in, so long as it was still live.

Normally wives, knowing where they were going, were 
happy to let their husbands get free with their bodies 
after the call-up papers arrived. For some the only 
limit seemed to be 'don't snuff me'. James had seen so 
many women over the years whose husbands appeared to 
have barely managed that. Just today a skinny brunette 
had arrived in a wheelchair, broken bones poking out 
through her skin and both breasts opened like figs. The 
company had even fitted a metal detector to the gutting 
line, using it to speed up the checking for any needles 
or skewers that had been left behind after heavy pre-
snuff sessions.

It had been his sister-in-law's call-up that had really 
made him look forward to Susan's. His brother had 
counted down the time remaining by breaking one finger 
each day. On the day he got stuck at work he'd asked 
James to pop round and do it for him. Jenny, his sister-
in-law, had looked surprised to see him, she'd been 
sitting on the sofa reading when he'd walked in.  When 
James explained why he was visiting she'd 
uncomplainingly held out a half-mangled hand for him to 
continue the work. After getting her breath back, Jenny 
had even joked how in a couple of days she'd have 
problems holding a book.

Then he'd seen Jenny at work a few days later. That was 
when, in idle contemplative moments, he'd started 
planning how to send his own wife off. His brother had 
been hard, broken fingers were the least of it. After 
years on the line he was pretty relaxed about the 
sights, but such a familiar form naked and battered had 
given him an instant hard-on. It was frowned on during 
working hours, but he'd rammed his cock into what 
remained of her cunt, imagining how Susan would feel as 
good.

****

Now that wouldn't be happening. It didn't help James 
either to think that, about this time, he'd have had a 
quickie with his wife, a taste of their heavy fuck-
session when the telethon was over. He'd usually take 
Susan from behind, so he could come as another screaming 
woman was snuffed on the screen. Now his wife's pussy 
was beyond use just as he was craving the chance to fuck 
to the sound of a woman whimpering in pain. It was okay 
though, he'd thought of something.

Standing up, he announced to his astonished girls, "I'm 
going out for a bit. Try not to snuff each other before 
I get back."

Sitting in the pens at work there'd be several dozen 
women waiting to be processed in the morning. So long as 
he filed their paperwork no one would be bothered if he 
had a little fun with one or two tonight, and he did 
have a key to the plant. He knew of at least three other 
managers who popped in of an evening from time to time 
for a private little fuck and snuff session. James had 
seen a toned blonde in the holding room he reckoned 
would be perfect to choke as he sodomised her, 
particularly if he sliced open and salted her tits 
first.

----------------
Sandy's Epilogue
----------------

Sandy was struggling. One of her tits had already been 
torn apart, the other was dangerously stretched and 
covered with angry red lines. All of her joints had 
dislocated, and one of her arms was starting to rip 
open. She'd probably have been able to cope, but then 
there was the fucking machine.

It hadn't been fast, but it had been unstoppable. Both 
dildos were about a foot long and wide as a wrist. 
Moving in sync with her racking they'd started low, 
barely penetrating her, but, as her limbs stretched out, 
the machine moved inexorably higher. At first having her 
arse sandpapered out had supplied the greater pain, her 
gash was pretty leathery anyway. Then the machine had 
filled her pussy and kept on going, bursting into her 
womb.

She'd been interviewed a few times by a selection of 
studio lovelies - all looking gorgeous in slinky evening 
gowns - their willowy unblemished bodies serving to 
highlight Sandy's stocky and battered one. Now the 
latest beauty just stood to one side, Sandy was beyond 
talking. Every thrust was mashing into her guts, drawing 
out an almost continuous howl. Laid under this was the 
ominous creaking of skin and muscle in fatal tension.

The clock showed over three hours. She'd hung on so long 
the house would be cleaning up on this one, it was 
pretty rare for anyone to make it past the two hour 
mark, and only a real optimist would have bet on more 
than three.

That was going to be it though. With a squelch her 
remaining tit tore open and a delicate equilibrium was 
disturbed. Final sinews snapped and one arm was ripped 
away. Slumping sideways, unable to support herself, the 
relentless shafts pumping in the mangled remains of her 
holes now drilled a deep new path into her guts.

Sandy managed one last impressive shriek as her second 
arm gave way, suddenly cut off as she slumped down - she 
too was finding out what it was like to have your 
diaphragm fucked.

There was laughter mixed with clapping and cheering from 
the audience. The unstoppable fucking machine was still 
thrusting Sandy's body up and down, giving the strongest 
impression it was bowing to the gently swinging corpse 
of her daughter.

********THE*END********

(c) 2013 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.