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.