EXTREME WARNING. This is intended for persons of 18 years of age or above. If you are not 18 then go away. EXTREME WARNING. This story contains descriptions of violence, snuff, eroto-cannibalism and sexual acts. Do not read if these subjects are likely to offend. EXTREME WARNING. In no way do I condone any of the anti-social behavior described in the story. This is an erotic fantasy, not to be confused with reality. Please reply by preference to the newsgroup, or failing that to grim_williams@hotmail.com The Feast of Purim By Grim Williams Series One, Part One Guy Nyrian lifted the Libran stun gun to his good eye and took careful aim. His younger sister peered anxiously over his shoulder. "Get the blonde," she whispered breathlessly. "The greedy one. The one with the big tits." She could see five of them, all Aquarians, crawling about on their hands and knees, sifting through the cooling embers of the abandoned Arian campfire for traces of carrion. They could be no more than fifty yards away. Esther held her breath, waiting anxiously for her brother to shoot. With five to aim at, surely he must hit one of them! Please! Don't let him miss! They'd eat on it for a week. God, how she needed to eat. Esther was hungry. They both were. Guy's hands were sweating, his heart thumping: so much voluptuous female flesh, all of it so available. He could see the small red infra dot flickering in front of him, wandering from girl to girl. He imagined he was God, watching, choosing, the power of life and death in his hands. Whom should he shoot? Whom should he let go? They were so close, so attractive, so beautiful, all so totally unaware. Come on now, such choice, which of them would be his. The red dot came to rest on the blonde, the one that Esther had suggested. She was the closest to them, a big girl with large tits and an attractive ass. She was on all fours, feverously trawling though the ash of the fire, picking out the odd half-eaten morsel and devouring it as if it were her last meal. Maybe it was, if he could hit her. Her tits hung low inside her shirt, swaying from side to side in time with her movements. Her fat ass was pointing high into the air, a sweet full moon, begging, pleading for attention. It made a wonderful target. Guy traced the line of her crack, up, down, imagining where her anus would be. The red dot settled. He locked on. A wonderful target. He pulled the trigger. At once the pellet exploded down the barrel towards its target. There was a mighty earsplitting retort. Guy recoiled under the force of it. It echoed sharply around the barren valley, reverberating off the rocks and the dunes. In a scurry of panic and commotion, the Aquarians looked up startled, and then darted to their parked hover bikes, firing them up. In a matter of seconds they were fleeing for the hills, trailing behind them a rusty cloud of dust, debris and dirt. Esther strained to count them. How many? That was the big question. How many were getting away? She saw one, two, three, yes, four fiery red tails blowing from their exhausts. But where was the fifth? Her heart soared with delight. She couldn't see number five. Then Guy must have hit her. She leaped to her feet, her short skirt flapping over her large black briefs, her sharp skinning knife open and ready for action. Guy was up too. He quickly jammed the stun gun into its holster and was sprinting at her side, the hunting bag on his back barely slowing him at all. "You got her," Esther screamed out in joy, running as fast as she could towards the erupting sandstorm that had ballooned up in front of them. She could hardly contain her elation. "You got the bitch! I know you did!" Guy was equally ecstatic. "I did! I got her!" he returned, stumbling through the sand as one drunk with delight. "We did it. At long last! We got ourselves a meal!" He got there first. Of course he did. He fought his way through the soft windswept dunes, through the debris and the hills of dust to the creaking embers of the abandoned fire. Where was she? Where was the blonde Aquarian with her wonderful butt? Guy couldn't see her. But he did see a skull, picked clean, half buried, the eye sockets staring up at him, the young mouth parted and open in a terrible grin. Guy ignored it. He scanned all around for his Aquarian. He couldn't see her. He saw bones, plenty of them, a tibia, a shoulder blade, a small pile of gristly vertebrae. If he collected them together, then he would have an entire skeleton, of that he had no doubt. The Aquarian? There was something half buried at his feet. He bent down and picked it up. It was a bra, a dirty white lace bra. He emptied its cups of sand and held them obscenely to his chest. "They left her clothes," he exclaimed, looking down again at the grinning skull. "Poor cunt! She won't need them now. Just another Aquarian, I guess." "I'll have that," Esther snapped moodily, snatching the bra from out of his hands. She'd never owned a bra, and so, of course, she wanted to try it. She grabbed her black halter top at the bottom, hauling it up over her bust, letting her bare tits bounce free. She had hard, firm breasts, not large but attractive, without even an ounce of sag. Guy watched her lecherously, his cock jumping to attention inside his pants. He liked his sister. He had a secret fantasy that one day he would come into a position of influence that he could use to expose her as a secret Aquarian and thereby spit and eat her. For despite their tags and their papers, they were both Aquarians by birth. They both lived a very dangerous lie. Of course, Esther would need fattening up first. Right now she had a boyish wiry shape with barely a trace of fat. Not good enough at all. She had short spiky hair and narrow hips. Having removed her top, Guy saw the small little bullets that she called nipples clearly. They were brown to the point of being almost black. He wondered how they would taste. Shit, she was sexy. She made him hard. If it weren't for the Aquarian, he'd fuck her here and now. Where was that fucking Aquarian? Esther placed the lace cups upon her bosom, one over each of her breasts. The bra was intended for a woman at least two sizes larger than she was, and allowed plenty of room for expansion. Esther didn't care. It was a bra, and Esther was proud to own it. She fiddled with the clasp until she had it fastened, and then pulled her top back on. "Where's the dam?" she snapped, now straightening her clothes. The bra made her bust seem bigger, but it also gave her a strange unnatural shape. Guy stared at her dubiously. "Hmmm," he muttered, screwing up his face. He preferred the way she'd been before. Esther ignored him, looking round once more for their meal. They found her lying face down, where she'd been thrown by the force of the stun pellet. They weren't disappointed. The dam was as young and as ample up close as she had appeared through the sight of the stun gun. Guy grabbed her shoulder and rolled her onto her back. Her face was covered in sand: her cheeks, her mouth, and her nose. "Is she alive?" Esther queried testily, rather hoping that she wasn't. They would eat much sooner if the Aquarian was dead, she reflected, watching Guy bend down and put his ear to the dam's plentiful bosom. That, she pondered, with a greedy eye on the other woman's clothing, was just the inevitable way of things. The woman was only wearing a shirt and a pair of shorts - even her feet were bare - but, even so, Esther was pleased. This was a swell way to enlarge one's wardrobe, she reflected. First a bra, and now two more garments. And why not? This cunt wouldn't need her clothes any more. "She's breathing," Guy replied softly, pulling his hunting bag from off his back. "Quick! While I prepare her, go get the van." Their motor was on the other side of a steep rise, a good mile away, maybe even two. They'd left it there after Esther had spotted disturbances in the sand that she had guessed might be footprints. Guy had cut the engine and had suggested that they follow on foot. "You never know," he'd said. "We may get lucky. Who knows? We may actually catch a meal by ourselves." Esther was not happy. It was a long trek back to the motor, retracing their footprints. But she knew better than to complain. There was a very good reason why it must be her and not Guy who must go. He had to fuck the Aquarian before slaughtering her. As everyone knows, orgasmic meat is the meat of choice. Any gourmet cookbook will tell you that. Two 'comes' prior to slaughtering produces a darker, stronger flavor to the meat; three 'comes' and you have a meat of distinction. Esther considered the grading system for meat pure nonsense. As far as she was concerned, meat is meat. Connoisseurs went on and on about their supposed delicacies: bi-orgasmic thigh joints, tri-orgasmic cunt, but it was all snobbish baloney, intended to impress those that didn't know any better. It was ridiculous. Esther didn't believe a word of it. What possible difference could a couple of climaxes make to the condition of the meat? But Guy thought otherwise, and so who was she to argue? A good fucking wouldn't do the meat any harm. And that was what mattered. She watched distractedly as Guy unfastened the buttons down the front of the unconscious girl's shirt. His fingers were nervous and trembling as he pulled the gray muslin from off her breasts. He cupped them, feeling their weight and their texture. He squeezed them. Oh God, Esther thought. How can I wait? How can he do this to me? She was drooling, the saliva leaking from out of the corner of her mouth. How long since she had last eaten? Oh how long? Her brother unfastened the metal stud holding the Aquarian's khaki shorts, and lowered the zip. Already, Esther could see a little of the fuzzy blonde snatch through the open vee. She was wearing nothing underneath those shorts. Nothing. Guy took hold of the bottom of each leg and yanked them down her long bronzed legs, over her knees and then off her bare calloused feet. Esther stared at her nakedness with idle curiosity. Guy was less restrained. He leaned forward and kissed her pussy meat, right between the lips. "Be careful," Esther warned. "The cunt will be coming round soon. The stun pellet only lasts for ten minutes. She'll be mad. Real mad. And then there's the rest of her pack... They won't be far away. If they come back..." He lifted the sleeping Aquarian to a sitting position, easing the sleeves of her open shirt down her arms. "They won't come back," he bragged, tapping the girl-hide holster around his waist. "And if they do, great! We'll have meat not only to eat but also to sell." Esther didn't share his confidence. "Be careful," she repeated, turning reluctantly to leave. "The Aquarian's are at home out here. They'll be on you in a moment. They're on hover bikes, remember. Watch your back." He had the dam stripped now. She was totally naked, her big breasts sticking high into the air. "I'd rather watch her," Guy jested, grabbing hold of one of the dam's great tits and fondling it suggestively. He threw the discarded shirt and shorts at his young sister. Neither reached her. They fell into the sand by her feet. " What's up with you, sis?" he added cheerily. "Look what you've forgotten! I'm not the only one to receive free perks. Or don't you want the clothes?" Esther scooped the filthy garments from the dirt. It wasn't fair. Why should this pathetic Aquarian get to be rogered by her brother's big cock while she traipsed through this hot stinking desert searching for the motor? She didn't want to admit it but she was annoyed, jealous. The cunt didn't deserve such a reward. There were too many women and too few men. So why should tonight's roast be pleasured by one of the few men around? The Aquarian would be surprised when she awoke. By that time Guy would have her spread eagled, her arms and legs tightly bound to iron stakes driven into the ground. The thought made Esther feel a little better. The sun would be hot on the bitch's front, tickling her breasts and burning her pussy. The sand would be roasting her back, the small irregular grains easing their inevitable way into the crack separating her two ass cheeks. Shit. The woman was probably a virgin. Most Aquarians technically are. After all, it's a matter of statistics. With one male baby being born for every twenty-five females, the odds stack up pretty heavily in a woman's disfavor. And out here, amongst the treacherous dunes of the Hitimana, the odds grow even longer. Where would a miserable cunt like this one find a man to satisfy her animal urges? Esther's clit began to burn as she visualized what would happen. Through her own eyes she saw the scene. Guy naked. His gorgeous prick, hard and swollen, foreskin pulled back, the tip twitching eagerly. Esther's legs began to weaken. The Aquarian would become insane in her lust. She would strain on the ropes. She would beg. She would plead. She would become violent. She would promise him anything, absolutely anything at all. Her hormones would take over, controlling her. They would consume her being, defying her reason and her caution. Esther had seen it so often before. A man thinks, someone once said. But a woman feels. It's the undoing of many a young woman. Her passions, her unfulfilled sexuality force her to act recklessly, to say absolutely anything in her desperate need for satisfaction. And Guy would know this, Esther reasoned. He knew well enough the way women are made. He knew her well enough. He would tease the bitch. He would arouse her. He would tempt her to the very brink, and only then he would drive his terrible bargain. Only then would he tell her what he wanted: that same horrific bargain doubtless negotiated by the owner of the smiling skull, the tibia and the pile of gristly vertebrae. He would sit on her chest, her head between his legs, his thighs framing her face. "If I fuck you," he would say, rubbing the end of his thing across her soft sallow cheeks. "Then I will have to kill you. You know that, don't you? For whoever heard of a Leo going with an Aquarian. Can you imagine if there were a child? What would it be? That can't be. We must ensure that there's no possibility of a child." The longhaired Aquarian would gaze longingly at his cock, her insides in turmoil, doubtless never having seen one before. And his next words would arouse him even further. "If I fuck you, then I'll have to kill you." Esther had been there herself. She knew what it was like to be tied naked and helpless, and for a man to stare with dark burning eyes at those bare secret places. She knew the humiliation of having someone look deep inside her pussy, examining its every detail and not being able to hide her arousal. From those dark days when she had still lived as an Aquarian, she both remembered and understood how a woman could become fascinated by the spit, could even desire it, yearn for it, while at the same time feeling unspeakable fear. To her these were not contradictions, they were simply the ambiguities of a woman's sexuality. Of course, she had been lucky. She had been rescued. Guy had been there for her. She had been pleading to be roasted, for her assailant to drive his spit from her anus to her mouth. She had been hot for it, had really craved it, when at the last possible moment Guy had plucked her screaming, fighting and kicking from danger. He'd done it in the nick of time. Her skin had already been shaved and coated with a spicy orange marinade. Her hair had been greased to protect it from burning in the flames. Her cunt had been stuffed with onions and herbs. She'd been given a large apple to bite upon for when the spit penetrated her ass. Even now it affected her. She couldn't look at a roasting dam without imagining it was her there, stuffed and sizzling, her fat spitting in the flames. That experience gave her an empathy that nobody else could possibly have. She knew how the woman's pussy would moisten and how her juices would drip involuntarily into her cunt stuffing as she was prepared. That's what gives cunt stuffing its special flavor. Her insides would tighten into an unbearable knot of passion. One part of her brain would be screaming at her to resist, to fight, while the rest would be telling her that the price was worth it. Fuck tomorrow it would cry, because this moment is everything. God. It was hot. A long trail of disturbed sand stretched endlessly into the distance. Esther wiped her brow and her cheeks with her new shirt. Instead of making her feel better, however, it made her feel even hotter. How much further had she to walk? Too far. She had barely started. She dabbed her neck and her shoulders, down to the neckline of her halter. This was silly. With a cry of pure elation, Esther pulled off her halter - her new bra too - and swabbed her tiny breasts with the other woman's clothes. She could smell the scent of her on the clothes. It was soaked into the shirt and the crotch of her shorts. Esther found the aroma fantastically arousing. It was such a turn on. She wanted to smell like that woman, to be dressed as she had been dressed, to experience all that she was experiencing right now, to have her terrible fate hanging over her. God, if only it were her that Guy were fucking right now. Esther shook her head, pinching the teats of her small dark nipples as hard as she could bear. What a blind idiot evolution is, what a pathetic designer, to have messed so disastrously with women's sexuality. It must be having a right laugh, up there on its throne of Chance. But Esther couldn't do anything to change the way that she was made, and neither could the Aquarian. Only a few yards away, at the abandoned campfire, Guy had quickly removed all his clothes, laying them neatly upon his hunting bag. He hadn't tied the young dam. Neither had he staked her to the ground as Esther had imagined. He hadn't needed to. Upon wakening, she'd become like the deer frozen by the approaching headlights, paralyzed, unable to move. Her hover bike remained parked within easy reach. That was the way that she was made. She'd been groggy at first, confused, not quite sure what had happened to her. She'd rubbed her head. She'd looked round for her clothes, and then she'd seen him. Guy. He was tall, nearly six feet six, with a weight lifter's physique. He had curly black hair and a full black beard. And he was naked. Very naked. God. The blood rushed to the young Aquarian's face when she saw the state of his cock and how it was lifted obscenely in her honor, the foreskin pulled back from the tip. She placed an arm self-consciously across her breasts and a hand over her pussy to shield herself from his attention. She'd never seen a man before in her life. She'd heard stories about them, of course. She wasn't stupid. Her mother and grandmother had told her the facts of life. She knew that men existed and she knew about sex. For instance, she knew that when it's aroused by the presence of a man, the female body produces special hormones that are almost hypnotic in their effect, making a woman act submissively. "It's nature's way," her grandmother had once said. You may not like it, but nature knows best." She knew that those hormones were at work within her right then. She knew it when Guy forced her back, pressing her shoulder blades onto the sand. He spread her legs, pulling them wide apart. She tried to resist, she tried to get away, but she couldn't. Hormones. She meekly let him position her limbs, allowed him to touch her breasts, squeezing them. And although the palm of her hand remained stubbornly pressed against her slit, shielding it from his sharp gaze, she knew that the only reason for this was that he hadn't yet chosen to remove it. When he chose to look at her properly, she had no doubt but that she would meekly allow him to move her hand and let him gloat over her humiliation. Instead, Guy unzipped his hunting bag and pulled out a small knife. The blonde gazed at it's gleaming blade with wide, frightened eyes. God. She had to get away from here. Next he took out a can of shaving cream. Fuck. That could only mean one thing. "Are you going to kill me?" she asked, shivering now with cold fear. He gently moved her hand away from her blonde snatch as she'd known that he would, and, very deliberately, he began to cover it with the cream. She knew what he would say. The shaving cream said it all, but somehow she needed to hear him say it. But he didn't reply. Instead, he took the knife and beginning to shave the hair from her mound, concentrating carefully. He started at the edges and gradually cut in towards her slit. Only when he got to the hair on her cunt lips did he answer. "Of course," he said, being careful to avoid giving her the slightest nick. "What else is there to do with an Aquarian?" The small skinning knife slid gently and quickly along the gash of her secret flesh. Feeling the blade down there was an absolutely terrifying experience. She couldn't breathe. "I don't want to die," she said weakly, her voice faltering. "But I'm hungry," he responded, tickling her with his knife. "Very hungry. And so is my sister. What else are you good for? We're going to cook you and then we're going to eat you." She shivered from the fear of it. He was still touching her pussy, holding it still while he shaved her. "What part will you eat first?" she stammered, wanting to flee, but knowing that she couldn't. She needed to keep him talking. If she was to stand any chance, then she had to buy some time. "Whenever I have a special meal, I always eat my favorite parts before the rest. What will you eat first?" He paused, staring once again at her nakedness, at her large udder like breasts and her broad muscled thighs. She knew how he was seeing her: as food, imagining the juicy flesh of her tits between his teeth, or the more tender, sweet meat of her cunt and how it would fall from off the bone in his mouth. God. Her hormones. Her grandmother had never warned her about this. She fought back her orgasm. "Will you spit me?" she asked quickly, just as he opened his mouth to answer her previous question. "If you do, please will you grease me well, especially my hair. I've seen meat that wasn't greased properly. It shrivels and blackens and tastes horrible. Ungreased hair burns to stubble. It looks disgusting. I wouldn't want to put you off. Let me both look and taste my best." She bit her lip. "We have a spit," Guy acceded, returning to the work of removing the woman's pubic hair. The blade of his knife grazed along the slippery edges of her outer cunt lips. "It's a new spit. An eight footer. It's never been used." This was too much for her. The prospect of being both fucked and then roasted sent her spiraling into the most earth-shattering climax. She squeezed her cunt lips together, bearing down upon her clit. These hormones were destroying her. She knew it. Whatever chance she may have had was fast disappearing. "Oh shit!" she cried, twisting her hips from side to side and pressing her ass into the hot dusty sand. "Shit. It's coming. I'm coming. Fuck me. Oh fuck me. Please fuck me now!" He cleaned her twitching pudenda, wiping away the soap and the hair with a damp cloth. Her cunt was now as bare and pristine as a newborn baby, exposing the smile of her slit and her open gaping hole. Obligingly, he rolled on top of her sacrificial body. "You want me to fuck you?" he asked, pressing the end of his hard dick against her smooth bare cunt lips. Her legs were still as he'd positioned them: wide, wide apart. She swallowed hard. "Shit, yes," she prayed incessantly. "You know that I want it. I beg you. Please fuck me!" She lifted her pelvis high into the air to meet him, trying to force him to take her, to rape her. "It's what every Aquarian wants! You know that. Fuck me, damn you. Fuck me!" He slid the eye of his cock along her smooth pussy crack. "You want me to take your cherry?" She could barely stand this torture. What was he waiting for? Her whole body was on fire, demanding his penis. "Damn you! Take it," she implored him. "I can't bear this. Take it. Take my cherry. I don't want it! Take it and fuck my brains out." He pressed gently against her young maidenhead, easing rather than hammering at it. This patience and compassion wasn't appreciated. She wanted him inside her and she wanted him now. Desperately, she thrust her cunt up to meet him, impaling herself on his long, swollen tool. His long dick disappeared completely, slowly sinking into her aching pussy, all the way to the hilt, lubricated by a thick mix of mucus and fresh blood. Her face froze with the expression of a fallen gladiator, changing abruptly from one of sublime ecstasy to one of pain. Her hymen was smashed apart and this man's penis was savaging her insides. "Oh God," she whimpered, falling back, using the slippery walls of her pussy to cling on to his mammoth cock. Still falling, she squeezed harder. "I didn't know," she gasped, her back slapping against the sand. "I didn't know." "That it would hurt?" he growled, settling into a steady rhythm. "You think this is pain? Then imagine the sharp point of an eight foot spit, tearing apart your flesh, passing through your insides, ripping its way from your cunt to exit by your mouth." "Oh God," she repeated, gasping, holding tightly to his strong bare heavily biceped arms, wrapping her legs around his and pulling him down, pulling him into her, deeper and deeper into her cunt, deeper and deeper. "I don't think I could bear such agony. I couldn't. I know that I couldn't." So this was what it was all about. This was sex, real sex, with a man. Her body wanted it, demanded it. Her hormones craved it, and she couldn't resist. How could she? This was the way she was made, the way that evolution had decreed that she should respond. Certainly there was no doubt now. She was his. There was no way that she could resist. But still he kept thrusting against her, driving his tool into her deepest crevices, exploring, feeling. He was so strong, so virile in the face of her weakness. She could smell his desire; feel his need and she couldn't help but respond. "Oh God!" she cried. Her face was stained red with the dust that had dissolved in her tears. Her large udder like breasts beat against his chest, her nipples hard and angry, aching for release. He cupped her face with his hands, kissing her on the mouth, probing with his tongue, pushing her lips apart. She was surprised, because it was a strange thing for a Leo to do. She tried to speak, but instantly his tongue had darted inside her mouth, killing her words. Her eyes opened wide, white and alarmed. God. It was as though there were a nerve between her mouth and her cunt. The caresses of his tongue were filling her pussy with yet more lust, opening up to her another unknown level of desire. And still he fucked her, slapping her bare sensitive pussy lips with the weight of his heavy swinging balls. But it was the threat of the spit that filled her mind. It wouldn't be long now before he would be tickling between her legs with the tip of his shiny eight-foot spit. He would then ask that question. It had become a terrible cliché, known and dreaded by every Aquarian above the age of five. For it had become the custom to give the victim the choice of which of her two holes should be used for the spitting. "Up the cunt, dear? Or in the ass?" What would she say? Oh God! What would she say? He was coming. She could feel the approach of his orgasm in her belly, could feel the pressure building in his balls and spreading down his penis to the knob. She could see it in his eyes, in the rasp of his breath and in the way he gripped her. He slammed into her again, his penis twitching as it thundered down her love tube, striking the back of her cervix with a mighty crash. He was coming. He was coming inside of her. Oh God. How many Aquarians had ever said that? Suddenly, her own climax hit her. It rose from deep within her bowels, funneling through her pussy and up through her breasts. She couldn't prevent it, didn't even want to, despite what she knew that it portended. It was the most powerful sensation she had ever experienced and the most wonderful, perhaps because she knew what was to come. She writhed in the sand in her ecstasy, welcoming and delighting in each stab of his manly knife. Oh God. And then suddenly, as quickly as it had begun, it was over. She lay satiated, barely able to move as he lifted himself from her, looking down at her spent body with a curious lust measured with pity. Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye she saw movement. Her heart leaped, and she was convinced that he must hear it. She saw the pack, returned to rescue her. There were four girls: three brunettes and a red head, all of similar age and beauty and with only the essentials of clothing between them. They moved closer, slowly, silent, unseen, catlike. A smile broke involuntarily on the blonde Aquarian woman's face. It was the smile of the cat that had the cream. She purred with satisfaction, kissing Guy's chest. She had her man. In her mind she was picturing his cock hanging obscenely around her neck. It had been dried in the hot sand and then painted with bright vivid colors. Guy would be sitting in his regular place at her feet, a chain fastened around his sturdy bronzed neck. He would be naked so that all would see that his masculinity has been removed, cut away. Occasionally, when she had a mind, she would remove the painted penis from around her neck and make him watch while she used it to pleasure herself. This was her fantasy. But it wasn't to be, none of it. Out of victory and the stuff of dreams came sorrow and defeat. It came suddenly, abruptly, unexpectedly. "Well, what have we here?" came a not so feminine voice. It was Esther, topless, legs parted, her short black hair sticking up in long sharp spikes. Her gun was raised, the barrel aimed squarely at the pack. "I warned you, brother," she mocked jubilantly, pinching her own nipples to make them stand up. "I told you they'd come back. Now," she said to the Aquarians. "Keep still. Keep very still. I'm pretty excited and I won't hesitate to shoot." She couldn't help laughing. "Now brother," she jibed, shaking her small boyish breasts. "If you've quite finished, then let's herd this meat to the motor." End of Series One, Part One