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Submitted for your approval, as the late Rod Serling would say, a story for
adults only. A grisly tale of lust, infidelity, sex, violence, death, revenge
and the consumption of human beings by other human beings we call Cannibal 4H
Chapter Nineteen: A Marriage Ends.

If you are newly come to the telling of this continuing tale be aware our
little morality play is graphic in its descriptions of events and not for the
squeamish or the puritanical. Nor is it meant for minors.  Heed well this
warning. Continue on and will

 “a tale unfold whose lightest word would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young
blood,
make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres,
Thy knotted and combined locks to part,
And each particular hairs to stand an end,
like quills upon a fretful porpentine . . . ”

Cannibal 4H chronicles the saga of two young people, Joey Geryon and his
girlfriend Linda Sue, their friends, neighbours and acquaintances and their
adventures in a world where raising human cattle is the norm.

You, dear reader, are accessing this story of your own free will, cognizant
the consequences of doing so are for you and you alone to bear. Remember,
this is not intended to be perused by the prudish.

This story is posted in instalments. This instalment contains part two of
Chapter 19.

And now the rest of this story:


Hank’s first stop after leaving the house was Bill Jonston’s law office.
There he learned  Lari had been a wild child who had gotten into some serious
trouble. At the age of fifteen her father had successfully petitioned the
court to allow him to establish an optional conversion contract. The
contract, which only Lari and her father knew about, gave him the right to
end Lari’s human status at the time of his choosing.

Although normally these contracts ended when the subject reached the age of
eighteen, this contract had been open ended becoming void only after Lari
married. Since the threat of conversion had been enough to straighten out
Lari’s behaviour, the contract had remained untouched and uncancelled in a
safety deposit box until after the funeral. Even Lari had forgotten about its
existence.

Under both the terms of her father’s will and the revised rule of
primogeniture, Jan had become the head of the family with full legal control
over the family’s affairs, including Lari’s conversion contract.  Jonston
explained to Hank, since Lari has never married, once the contract came into
Jan’s possession it could be enacted at her bidding and she had done so just
last week. Jonston insisted there was nothing  he could do about it. Legally
and ethically, he was obligated to carry out Jan’s wishes in the matter
including her direct instruction that Lari not be notified of the conversion.

For the next week, Hank dealt with his grief. Sorrow came at him in waves,
ebbing and flowing like the tides in the bay but always there. He felt as
dead and barren as a skeleton in the low dessert. But gradually and with a
great deal of effort, the lessons his father had taught him helped him to
regain control of his emotions, to put the past behind him and focus on the
future.

A self-educated labourer who believed in giving a dollar and ten cents worth
of effort for a dollar’s wages, Hank’s dad always claimed the only school
worth a damn was the school of hard knocks. He had no time for self pity or
worrying about the past and what might have happened if only he had done
something different. Life wasn’t, in his view, something you could change,
just something to get on with.

Even while he was dying from leukaemia, Hank’s dad took a no nonsense
approach to life. “Son, too many people in this world waste their time
pissing and moaning about what’s happened to them. ‘Life’s unfair . . .  I
didn’t get a fair shake . . .  That’s not fair.’ Damn straight life’s not
fair. It’s not supposed to be fair. Life is about overcoming adversity,
dealing with the hard times and doing your best. Face it kid, life’s tough
and at the end, no matter what you do, you don’t get out of it alive.

“There are going to be days when you’re going to want to give up; when it
seems easier to be a whiner than a winner; when hauling your ass out of bed
one more time seems like more trouble than its worth. It’s no secret, bad
things are going to happen to you, things you don’t deserve. You’ll lose
jobs, you’ll be in accidents, drunks may sue you because they slipped on your
sidewalk, your house may burn down, women will break your heart, friends will
screw you, and people you love are going to die like I am now. None of that
changes anything.

“Hank, if you want to be a man, you can’t give up. You have to deal with the
world like it is, not like you want it to be. You have to accept what’s
happened and move on. If life gives you lemons you don’t just make lemonade,
you open a whole damn chain of stands.”

So Hank had buried his grief and got on with his life knowing  when the time
was right, he would avenge himself on his wife, no not his wife, she had
forfeited the right to that title, on Jan. He would avenge himself on Jan.

After a month  Hank returned home, presenting himself to Jan as a chastened
husband seeking forgiveness, counting on her desire to punish him further to
allow him inside the door. Outwardly he wore his regret for what had happened
like a penitent’s hair shirt, inwardly he longed for the day he would send her
to Abraham’s bosom.

He courted Jan all over again, showering her with small kindnesses, trying to
anticipate her needs before she could voice them, giving her no cause for
quarrel, the picture of a man on probation trying to win a full parole.  He
missed no opportunity to ingratiate himself with Jan, his newly honeyed tongue
hiding the dagger in his voice.

At times Hank hated himself, not for his duplicity which he saw as necessary
to gain his revenge, to him Jan deserved all the lies he was telling and
more. No what disgusted Hank were the actions he felt he had to take.
Sleeping with Jan was like selling his soul to the devil, a bargain he was
more than willing to make to satiate his need for retribution. And the
dinners, the dinners were the hardest of all to take.

Jan made quite a production of these dinners which she called “Lari’s Blue
Plate Specials.” It wasn’t having to consume Lari’s flesh that turned Hank’s
stomach. There was nothing unusual or even particularly tragic about eating
someone you loved. That was just part and parcel of life since the great
disaster.

Besides Lari was actually quite tasty, her meat nicely textured with a rich,
deep flavour. Sure he missed Lari, missed her deeply but who was to say she
wouldn’t have wound up on his table anyway. Life had a funny way of playing
tricks on a person.  Hank could honestly say Lari had was as toothsome in the
serving dish as she was in bed.

The dinners were the hardest to take because of the remorseless jubilation
Jan took in them. Each meal was a reiteration of the fact  she had hated Hank
enough, despised his happiness so much, that she had had her sister
slaughtered just to cause him pain. Every time Lari was served Jan was saying
“I won.” And so she had, but not for long. Before the week was out Jan would
be joining her sister as another set of white packages in the freezer.

Whistling at the thought of Jan reduced to single-sized servings, Hank opened
the door to The Stockyard to be greeted effusively by the owner, Martin Brune.
“Hank, I was just telling Shirley  you should be by soon,” he said, holding a
sheaf of papers in one hand. “Are we going to do business?”

“Do you have everything ready,” Hank asked the pudding-faced proprietor? Hank
really didn’t like Marty, who he thought was just a little too sharp an
operator for his taste, never missing an opportunity to turn a buck, even if
it meant going outside the line. Not that he wasn’t honest, if that had been
the case he would have been banished from the monthly poker game a long time
ago. But Marty had a reputation for being sharper than a guillotine blade. If
it hadn’t been for their acquaintance at the card table, Hank might have gone
to Crenshaw’s for this job but the monthly get together had to count for
something.

“Yes sir, I surely do,” Marty replied as enthusiastic as a used car salesman
spotting a family hitchhiking.	“Everything and I want to emphasize
everything, you requested is ready. All I need are a copy of the order and,
of course, your check.

“You know Hank,” Marty went on as Hank took out his checkbook, “the way I see
it you are practically getting my services gratis. I mean all the money you
have taken off of me in just the past six months more than pays for this
little job, even with all the extras. You sure you don’t have anyone else you
want done? I’d sure like to get a little closer to breaking even anyhow.”

“Sorry, Marty,” Hank replied handing over the check. “Just this job, at least
for the time being.” While Marty was a cunning businessman his prowess at the
poker table was sorely lacking. Over the years Hank had learned to read his
face at the games like an open book, a skill that had landed him many a fine
pot but one that hadn’t carried over to his business dealings with his card
playing adversary.  It was like Marty had two different personalities. His
commercial persona was shrewd and calculating, never giving away anything
while his gaming incarnation was reckless and less than inscrutable.

Folding the check twice, Marty placed it in the front pocket of his shirt.
“Well buddy, when do you want to do it?”

“I’ll bring her by tomorrow at lunchtime.”

“Great, perfect, no problemo big guy.  I’ll have everyone primed and ready to
go. I figure three, three and a half hours for the preliminaries;  five-ten
minutes for the main event, fifteen at most; a day, day and a half for
processing; she should be ready for pickup by the weekend. If you want any
portions sooner than that we could cut some off special for you tomorrow.
Nothing really choice you understand, but enough to give you a little taste or
two.”

“Thanks Marty but the weekend will do just fine. See you at noon.”

“Righto Hank, noon it shall be. I know my guys are sure looking forward to
it.”

As Hank left The Stockyard, shaking his head at Marty, he thought of a
conversation from one of their games.

“You guys all remember my daughter Denise,” asked Marty a cigar dangling out
of one corner of his mouth, the grey ash falling onto the dip on his snack
plate as he talked. “You know, the kid I had with my second wife, the one I
was sending to business school. The kid not the wife.” Heads nodded in
agreement.  “Well, it seems  she had to take a course in ‘business ethics’
now there’s an oxymoron if I ever heard one.  In this class, which meets
twice a week at 7:30 in the morning, too early	for my taste I’ll tell you .
. .  Anyway, in this class they’d give you these scenarios and ask you what
ethical dilemma is posed and what you’d do to solve it.

“Denise tells me about one where she and a friend own a business together. In
this little morality play a customer comes in to settle his account in cash
and pays Denise with a $100 bill. After he leaves Denise notices  there’s a
second $100 bill stuck to the first one. Now remember this isn’t really
happening, this is just make believe. So anyway Denise tells me the
instructor gave her a failing grade just because he didn’t like her answer.
The bastard didn’t even let her get to her solution.”

“Ok Marty, I’ll ask,” said Bob Rickmund. “I know I’ll regret it but I’ll ask.
Why’d the instructor flunk her?”

“Cause Denise said the moral quandary was whether or not she should tell her
partner about the second $100 bill,” reported Marty laughing so hard his cigar
dropped to the table. “Yep, that’s my daughter all right. Make a buck any way
you can, a chip off the old block.”

When Hank got home, Jan was in the living room sitting on the couch, a gothic
romance novel in her hand. She was wearing a sleek blue dress which did her
no favours by clinging so tightly to her body. Her lack of undergarments was
clearly visible as were an assortment of unsightly bulges and rolls. A
matching pair of patterned nylons surrounded her legs like blue sausage
casings filled almost to bursting. Her arms resembled the trunks of baby
elephants, their wrinkled flesh hanging loosely from the underside, a
testimony to the inexorable and unflattering combination of both aging and
gravity.

A strand of inexpensive gold-coloured beads hung off her neck, their drop
reaching well below her pendulous breasts, a matching pair of large hoops
adorning her earlobes. Her peroxide blonde hair was set in a beehive hairstyle
while thin, plucked eyebrows stretched across her brow.

With a smile pasted to his face, Hank held out a bouquet of mixed flowers.
“Why are there for me,” Jan simpered the freshwater pearl bracelet on her arm
rotating as she reached out for the vibrant blooms? “What’s the occasion?
Have you been a naughty boy again?”

“No Jan, I got these just because you are you. By the way, I’ve got some free
time at lunch tomorrow and I’d like to take you out though it won’t be to any
place fancy. Dress casually, maybe even something you wouldn’t miss if it gets
torn off you.  I’ll pick you up at about 11:30.”

Jan pried herself up off the couch and walked toward the kitchen, carrying
the flowers in her hand. Hank watched as her buttocks jiggled like a gelatin
desert on a three-year old’s plate.  Jan’s voice came back to him over the
sound of running water as she filled a vase to receive his floral offering.
‘So you’re going to tear my clothes off me are you? That sounds interesting.
But why wait until tomorrow. I’m not wearing all that much right now.”

Since he had returned home, Hank had approached his carnal relations with Jan
as a duty he had to perform, like changing the oil in the car or taking out
the garbage.  He thought of himself as an actor in a porn film or a male
gigolo hired to service an aging dowager. No real involvement, just automated
precision, with enough variation thrown in to hide his indifference while
still keeping the client interested. He dredged up memories of what Jan liked
in bed to add verisimilitude to his role. And what performances he gave.

Ignore the white flesh the colour of library paste, the sour scent emanating
from a mouthful of crooked teeth, the smeared pink lipstick tasting of
strawberries, saliva dripping from slack lips he always told himself. Forget
about Lari and how much you wish it were her under you moaning and thrashing.
Concentrate on playing the part of the ardent lover to Jan. Your cock is a
hoe, her cunt the furrow. Weed her, plant your seed in that furrow.

He would send his fingers running through hair made wire brittle by chemical
rinses as though it was the softest golden down: his cock entering and
exiting her cunt with the even, measured strokes of a master carpenter sawing
wood; his fingers tweaking her nipples with the dispassion of an engineer
tuning in a distant station on an old AM radio.

He gave out cries of desire as false as a politician’s smile; all pleasure
absent when he felt her rubbery pussy walls flutter against his dick;  his
orgasms sparked not by enjoyment or ecstasy but simple mechanical friction of
body parts running roughly against each other. Afterwards his murmured
assurances of his love and devotion were as empty as his heart, a simple
device to quell Jan’s worries until he could act.

This bout in the bedroom with Jan was different.  Hank’s cock was a stiff as
a tire iron, throbbing so hard it hurt as though he was a fifteen year old
boy who had taken an overdose of his father’s  Viagra. Sexual hunger gripped
his very being, overriding his sense of detachment. The knowledge of what Jan
would face the next day only added to his excitement. For the first time
since Lari’s butchering he wanted to fuck Jan, to lose himself in her doughy
body, to match her orgasm for orgasm.

Hank stared at Jan lying on the bed, her back flat against the mattress. He
grabbed the top of her dress, ripping it quickly along one seam.  He reached
underneath Jan and, with some effort, half-lifted her off the mattress to
remove the rest of the dress then let her drop back to the bed. Breathing
heavily he gazed at the sprawl of her arms and legs, the way her breasts lay
flattened and flaccid against her rising and falling chest; the fur covering
the bulge of her pubic bone, smelled the odour of her cunt. He knelt between
her spread legs, teased her sex by slowly running his cock up and down its
length, opening the lips but never penetrating them, rubbing across her
outthrust clit, pressing it back into the tangle of hair and moistened flesh.

Reaching out with both hands, he grasped Jan’s head and pulled it to him with
a hard yank, revelling in the gasp she made. He kissed her deeply and wetly,
his tongue circling her mouth, scraping against the rim of her teeth. Jan
responded by dropping her hands to his buttocks trying to force his dick into
her. Still Hank held off, content for the time to rub her heated cunt lips
with his cock, to stoke her needs to a higher level before fulfilling them.

His head dropped to her nipples biting each in turn, hard enough to hurt but
not to injure. His hands formed claws and squeezed her buttocks, the nails
digging into her skin. Jan began to rock, moaning inarticulately. Her knees
curled upwards seeking her chest, her eyes crying “fuck me, fuck me.”

Hank moved upwards on Jan, his knees pinning her arms to the bed, his ass
grinding against her tits.  His cock bumped insistently against her mouth,
demanding her submission and worship.  Jan shook her head from side to side,
her jaws clamped tight against the invader, until another sharp tug on her
hair opened her mouth.	Hank’s cock entered, stretching her mouth out of
shape, forcing her quivering lips tight against his manhood, her tongue
tasting the proofs of his passion.

Despite her earlier protestations Jan began to suck, her mouth nursing at his
prick like a newborn.  Hank sawed in and out, going deep into her throat
until she choked and then pulling out to rest the head of his cock on the
front end of her tongue, enjoying the sputtering sound as Jan tried to take a
breath around his dick.  He thrust back in, beyond her palate, into the
recess of her throat not pulling out.  Jan started to gag, her convulsions
tickling the sides of Hank’s cock. He waited until Jan begins to shake like
an epileptic, then moved totally out to allow sweet precious air to reach her
lungs. As she panted deeply, Hank released his hold on her head, moving
downward, his weight leaving her chest.

Hank’s head burrowed between her legs into her already wet cunt, his saliva
adding to the libidinous humidity of her groin. Now Jan acted, her hands
seized Hank’s hair, rubbing his face against her pussy like a dish rag on a
platter, while his hands cupped her asscheeks and pulled her closer, his
tongue swirling past her sensitive folds to scour the sides of her tunnel.
She ground her cunt onto Hank’s lips and teeth, the contractions of her belly
announcing her first crescendo of the evening.

Jan brought her ass high up off of the bed to allow Hank to penetrate more
fully. She sucked at his dick with her vacuuming pussy, welcoming it past her
slickened portals. As he moved in and out she rotated her pelvis in short,
quick circles each movement heightening their pleasure. Hank felt his groin
begin to tighten and tingle, letting his weight drive him into her as far as
he can. Jan responded in kind, her breasts mashed against his chest, her
fingers pulling his hairs, her toes curling toward the ceiling, her total
being centred on the interlock of cock and cunt, all wet frothy ringlets of
hair and slippery flesh.

Her pelvis jumped three times, four times, five times, ripples rolling across
her stomach, a high keening noise escaping her lips as her pussy contracted
spasmodically around the object of its desires. Still Hank pounded away,
ignoring her second series of orgasms, going deeper with each thrust until he
thought he’s inside her cunt’s cunt.

As Jan’s nails raked his skin, visions filled his head like unwanted
mescaline flashbacks. Their first date, Jan as shy as the sheltered youngster
she was. Their wedding, he and Jan dancing. Their first fight as newlyweds,
saying hateful things they didn’t mean. A later fight as an old married
couple, meaning every spiteful word they uttered. His desire for Lari and
her’s for him. Lari caressing him during a stolen moment at a family
gathering.  His grief at her termination. Swearing revenge against Jan.
Making the arrangements with Marty.

Hank threw his head back and bellowed like a hound howling at a red and
gibbous moon, a flow of molten lava exploding from his cock as he thought
about what would happen to Jan tomorrow after she stepped out of the car.

Water cascading down her body, Jan heard the phone ring. Let the machine pick
it up she thought to herself, luxuriating in the feel of the spray from the
shower head against her skin as damascened ribbons of translucent bubbles
washed from her body to course across the bottom of the tub before swirling
down the drain. For the first time in ages, she felt content and relaxed,
almost at peace. Hank’s behaviour these last few months had started to heal
the breach between them, his sexual gymnastics of the night before reminding
her of their early days of dating, the man had been practically insatiable.
You’d have thought he’d been a sailor who hadn’t been given shore leave for
five months.

As she towelled herself dry, Jan wondered if she shouldn’t reconsider her
decision about Hank. He’d been so sweet lately, all apology and contriteness.
Maybe Hank had learned his lesson and things could go back to being the way
they were before he strayed.

Patting herself with a powder puff, her body enveloped in a murky cloud of
geranium-scented dust, the remembrance of how Hank had betrayed her with her
sister twisted Jan’s face in anger, her heart growing as cold as the north
side of a gravestone in winter.  No, Hank had made his choice, as poor as it
was. Now he would have to suffer the consequences of his actions, at least
for a little while longer.

In any case, there was no reason why she couldn’t continue to enjoy the fruits
of Hank’s efforts to reingratiate himself with her, including today’s lunch.
Having Hank trailing after her like a poodle who would do anything for even a
small sign of affection from its mistress was rather fun.  It would be
interesting to see what he would do next.

Now fully dressed, in an older outfit she didn’t mind having torn off her, Jan
walked to the living room where the blinking green light on the answering
machine prompted her to play back the message that had come in while she was
showering.

“Jan, it’s Hank.  I’m sorry but something has come up at work and I can’t pick
you up. I’m not cancelling our outing. I’ve been looking forward to it for too
long to do that.  But I’m going to have to meet you there.”

Jan frowned as she listened to the recording. Having to drive herself to their
lunch date certainly took some of the lustre from the occasion.

Almost as if he could read her mind Hank continued “It’s not fair of me to
ask you out and then make you drive so I’ve arranged for a day coach to pick
you up. You won’t have to worry about how you’re going to get home. I’ll see
to that. Just be ready when they come by. Oh, just one more thing, there’ll
be a little surprise waiting for you in the coach.  Well, I’ve got to go. 
I’ll see you in a little while.”

So Hank was sending a coach for her. That was a nice touch.  “Madame, your
carriage awaits.”  And not just a coach but a surprise too. Couldn’t be
flowers, she just got those last night. Maybe a nice bottle of sparkling
wine. Well, the proper amount of anticipation just made things nicer and the
twenty minutes left before Hank was supposed to pick her up was just right.


The ringing of the doorbell coincided with the chiming of the clock on a
living room mantle. It was 11:30 and Jan’s ride was here. She opened the door
to be greeted by a strapping young man in a conservative black suit set off
with a muted argent tie. One gnarled hand held a small, brightly wrapped box
with a dark red bow which he quickly handed to her.

“Good morning mam,” he said politely, his rich voice matching the warm smile
on his face.  “My name is Thomas and I’m here to drive you to your final
destination. Mr. Gyger asked me to tell you,  you should open your gift
before you got into the coach.”

Jan couldn’t help smiling back at Thomas, even as her eyes took in his
muscular structure. Although the events of the evening just past had been
delightful, she admired the way filled out his suit. Maybe he’d be interested
in really driving her some night when Hank wasn’t home.

A rattling sound from inside the box shifted her attention from the driver
back to Hank’s surprise. Tearing off the wrapping like a five-year old
opening Christmas gifts, Jan opened the box to discover the source of the
noise was a thick silver choker. Jewelry, Hank got me a nice piece of
jewelry, she thought holding the necklace in her hand, the sun glinting off
its shiny pebbled surface.

“Mam, if you don’t mind, I’ll help you on with that,” said Thomas gently
taking hold of her gift.  Wordlessly, Jan turned around as Thomas’ strong
hands placed the choker around her neck. For just a moment Jan imagined his
hands had lingered on her neck, in a soft, sensuous invitation for more
serious pleasures. Chiding herself for the fantasy, after all he’s less than
half your age and probably has more teenyboppers than he knows what to do
with banging on his door for a chance to bang him, she gave a small start as
he moved his hands slowly down the back of dress.

“I’m sorry mam. I didn’t mean to make you jump like that. It’s just the tag
was sticking up from the back of your dress. How’s that necklace feel now,”
he asked, his hands still kneading her shoulders?

“I think it’s just a little too tight,” Jan said hurriedly, his massaging
fingers bringing a tingle to her loins. “It’s not laying quite right. The
little bumps are pressing into my throat and I can’t get my finger underneath
it.”

“No mam, that’s the way this piece is designed to be worn. It's supposed to
press firmly against the flesh of your neck. Why don’t you turn around and let
me take a look at it from the front?”

As she turned Jan felt Thomas’s fingers squeeze against her buttocks. He is
coming on to me, she told herself with excitement. We won’t have time to do
anything on the ride over to lunch, I’d want to take my time with this hunk
but I’ve got to get his number for later.

Thomas reached up and adjusted the choker, his strong fingers stroking up and
down on Jan’s neck and the underside of her chin.  “Looks good on you mam,
just the way it should.  Your skin is supposed to just peek over the top and
bottom edge of the necklace and that’s what it’s doing. But I tell you what,
when we get to where we are going if you still think it’s too tight, I’ll
take it off you and we can refit it. Deal?”

“Sure, it’s a deal,” said Jan. And that’s not all I want you to take off me
she thought but didn’t say.

Holding the back door of the day coach open for her, Thomas motioned her
inside. “I’m afraid we do have a schedule we need to keep to,” he said
regretfully. “So if you don’t mind . . . ”

Jan entered the rear of the coach and sat down in the seat. Thomas reached
over and pulled her seat belt across her and fastened it,  his fingers
smoothly palming her braless breasts during both halves of their passage. I’m
not imagining things, I excite this young stud. Just look at the size of that
lump in his pants.

As they drove down the road, Thomas lowered the glass partition between the
front and back seats.  “I’m sorry mam but there’s still  one more thing I need
to do before we get to our destination.”

“By all means go ahead,” said Jan graciously, already planning on how to best
enjoy her envisioned romp with the driver.

“Thank you mam. I hope you enjoy the ride.”  As Thomas’ finger depressed a
large red button on the dash, Jan felt a buzzing sensation run through her
entire body as though she was being buried under an avalanche of maddened
hornets.

When she awoke, Jan found herself naked and lying on her back strapped to a
breeding bench. Her ass was hanging off the edge of the bench; her legs
spread wide between vertical bars. Her arms were stretched down and back and
fastened to the underside of the bench. Taking a breath, she tried to scream
but the only sound that exited her mouth was a muffled squeak, like a small
mouse being batted around by a cat.

With great effort she raised her head off the bench until her chin touched her
chest. Peering down her chest she saw Hank sitting calmly in a gunmetal chair.
On a small table to his right were six plates, each with a quarter stick of
butter. A thin black leather thong lay in a circle around the plates.

Seeing that Jan was awake, Hank stood up and walked over to stand next to her
head. Gently stroking her hair he smiled at her and began to talk.

“Hi Jan, glad to see you’re back with us.  I know you’re sore. That’s what
happens when a blackout collar like the one you were wearing is triggered.
Of course, that’s not the only reason you’re sore.  You were catheterized to
get all of the urine out of your bladder and I’m afraid they weren’t as
considerate as they could have been. It took them several tries to get the
tube placed right.” As he was talking Hank’s hand slipped down from Jan’s
hair to rub against the side of her face. “You were also on the receiving end
of four enemas, including a high colonic. Pretty rough I’ll bet.  But it’s
just so messy when a woman voids herself so we thought we’d get you cleaned
up ahead of time.”

Jan began to struggle against her bonds, only to have Hank’s hand push her
head back down to the bench.  “If I were you Jan, I wouldn’t waste my
strength on trying to get loose.  That’s not going to happen and you’re going
to need your strength later.” Again Jan tried to talk but only a soft bleat
escaped her throat.

“Oh, that’s another thing. You’ve been given a temporary anesthetic to stop
you from screaming. That means you can’t talk either.

“Now you’re probably wondering where you are and why,” said Hank after he
moved his chair around to allow him to sit next to Jan.  “Well as to where
you are, you’re in a small room in The Stockyard. They use it for ‘special
order’ slaughterings, the kinds that don’t use their assembly line methods.
And since you now know where you are, I’ll bet you won’t have any trouble
guessing why you’re here.”

Jan’s lips moved forming the word “Lari.”

“That’s right Jan. You’re here because of what you did to Lari. It could have
been so good for all of us, me, Lari, you and your mystery lover, if only you
had been adult about the whole thing.  But that wasn’t your style was it
Jan,” asked Hank, emotion filling his voice. “You were jealous, couldn’t
stand the fact that Lari and I were happy. So you had her converted. Well,
yesterday the Judge signed a conversion order for you and in just a little
while you’re going to be reunited with Lari.”

Methodically, Hank began to strip, carefully folding his clothes and placing
them on the chair. Jan watched her eyes wide and as filled with hate as a
bigot’s mind. Hank walked to the table and returned with a stick of butter in
his hand.

“Let me tell you what’s going to happen, Jan. I think you have a right to
know. First I’m going to fuck that ass of yours, the one you wouldn’t let me
into the whole time we’ve been screwing.  When I’m done, when my come is
dripping from your wide-open asshole, then I’m going to clean myself up, get
dressed and push that button on the wall.”

Jan’s gaze moved from Hank’s face to follow his pointing finger. On the wall,
next to the door, was a bright green button.  “That button’s going to tell
Marty that we’re ready for the next step. You’re going to pull a train for
six guys Jan, three at a time over and over again. They’re going to fill
every hole you’ve got. Including your ass. That’s what the extra butter is
for. Just think of it Jan, six of them moving constantly from cunt to ass to
mouth.	And hon, you don’t have to worry, Thomas will be one of them.  He
told me that you practically dropped to your knees and gave him a blowjob
right on the sidewalk while he put the blackout collar on you.”

Hank began to smear the butter on his rampant cock, pale yellow tallow oozing
between his fingers. “And when they’re done, when they can’t get one more
hard- on, when every last wiggling little spermatozoon has been drained from
twelve balls, Thomas is going to take that leather thong and use it to send
you on your way.”

Hank’s invading cock pushed insistently against Jan’s anal rosebud, forcing
its way past her clenched tightness, ripping and tearing tender flesh as it
moved deeper into her bowels.  Rivers of black flame clouded Jan’s sight as
Hank punished her ass with every stroke, his dick relentless and without pity
in its quest to embed itself in her until she was as raw as a scraped
artichoke leaf.

Jan’s tits bounced like half-filled water balloons on her chest, their
gyrations matching Hank’s strokes. His hands reach out like the claws of a
maddened animal and begin to scour small strips of skin off Jan’s stomach
leaving red bleeding troughs in their wake.

“Let me tell you what’s going to happen when they’re done fucking you,”
rasped Hank between thrusts.  “First they’re going to take a half-hour break
to get some of their strength back. Once they’ve recovered they’ll turn you
over on your stomach but they’re going to be sure they still have access to
your pussy and ass.  You arms will be spread out to your sides and tied down.
Then while the rest of them take turns fucking you, Thomas is going to sit on
your back and drive most of the air from your lungs. You’ll still be able to
breathe but it will be hard, every breath you take will be a small torture.

“Thomas will take the cord and wrap it around your neck. If you’re lucky
he’ll let you take one more deep breath before he tightens the cord. You’ll
struggle. It won’t do you any good but it’ll sure be stimulating for whoever
is lucky enough to be fucking you at the time.	He’ll twist the thong
tighter; it’ll cut into the flesh of your neck, maybe you’ll even bleed a
little but I bet you won’t bled as much as Lari did when they cut her head
off.”

Savage before, Hank’s fucking took on a positively feral quality as he
continued to taunt Jan with her fate.  “Just before you pass out, Thomas will
ease up and let you have a little bit of air, just enough to keep things
lively for awhile. But, as I know only too well, all good things must come to
an end.  You taught me that lesson Jan and I’ve taken it to heart. With Bill
in hospital, I’ve deputized Thomas to act as my divorce attorney. When he
tightens that cord for the final time he’ll end both your life and our
marriage and I can, I can, I, I, I . . .” With a shudder Hank slammed into
Jan’s ass, the tendons on his neck stiff and quivering as he threw his head
back, all the energy in his body flowing through his cock to rest deep inside
Jan’s ass.

Marty escorted Hank down the hallway toward his office. “Hank are you sure
you don’t want to see it happen? You’re paying enough for it. You don’t even
have to be in the room with her if you don’t want to. We’ve got a one-way
mirror you can watch through. Those are pretty standard in my line of work.
She’ll never even know you were there, not that it would matter in the end.”

‘Thanks Marty,” said Hank as he shuffled down the hall like an old man beset
with arthritis. “Don’t ask me why but I’d rather not. And I want you to go
back in and ask Thomas to make it quick. Never mind all that ‘pulling a
train’ stuff I asked for. Making Jan suffer won’t bring Lari back. I guess
I’m not really cut out for revenge the way I thought I was.”

“Jeeze, Hank, the guys sure will be disappointed. Are you sure you still want
Jan terminated?”

“Yeh, I owe Lari that much at least. And with Jan out of the way, maybe I can
start my life over again. Find somebody new, a second sunrise in my life, you
know all that ‘new beginnings’ stuff the radio shrink is always going on
about.”

Marty stopped before an unmarked grey door. “Hank there’s something that’s
bothering you. Tell brother Marty what it is.”

“Man, you’re going to think I’m nuts. Marty I swear that when we left the room
and I looked at Jan that one last time . . . Well, damn it I’d swear she was
laughing, laughing at me. After all that and with what she knew was going to
happen to her she was laughing at me.”

“Naw, I don’t think you’re crazy at all. Come on in here with me for a
minute,” Marty said holding the door open for Hank to enter the darkened
room, “and I’ll tell you why.” Hank heard a “whoosh” near his right ear as he
entered the room. A pain blossomed in his head and the room grew even darker.

When Hank awoke he found himself naked and lying on his stomach bound to a
bench, his head held tightly in some sort of restraint.  Unable to look up,
Hank could only see a plastic crate from Teelucky’s Dairy, its gridwork
stained with what looked like dried rust. My god, he thought, I’m tied on a
guillotine. “Marty,” he croaked querulously, “hey, Marty are you there?”

“Yeah Hank, I’m here,” replied a voice from behind him.

“Come on man, this isn’t funny. Let me go. Get me off this fucking thing.”

“Sorry Hanko, no can do big fellow.”

“Marty quit screwing around and let me out of here. This joke isn’t very
funny.”

“Hank, I hate to be the one to tell you but this isn’t a joke.”

“What in the hell are you talking about?”

“Remember when I told the group about getting the contract with the country to
do conversions? Yeah, sure you do.  Well, my friend, the court ordered your
conversion> I’m supposed to have you chopped and packaged by tomorrow.”

Hank felt his bladder give way, the warm puddle spreading beneath his stomach
and legs. “Marty, come on, you’ve got things all screwed up. Jan was the
conversion, not me. I brought you the order from the Judge. It was for Jan.”

“Yep, Hank you’re right. The order you brought me was for Jan but then, about
an hour later, I got another order and this one was for you.  Here’s how it
plays out.  Remember you told all of us at the game that Jan had taken a
lover but you didn’t know who it was. Well, it turns out that Bill Jonston
was her lover. They were in it together. I’ll bet that they even forged that
old contract about Lari. I mean I don’t know that for sure but it would fit.
Anyway,  they weren’t going to stop with Lari.	Bill was on his way to see
the Judge with a conversion petition about you when he had that car accident.
The papers flew under the seat and they didn’t find them until the yard was
doing the final clean out on the car before it was scraped.”

Hank began to panic, rocking from side to side in an attempt to get free of
the bench.  “Hey man, don’t do that,” Marty advised hurriedly. “You’re not
going to get loose but you could make the blade slip. If that happens it
might not kill you cleanly. I’ve seen people with their heads still
half-attached and breathing after a blade slipped.You wouldn’t want that to
happen to you and I can’t have that happen here. I’ve got a rep you know. If
you keep it up I’m going to have to drop the blade now.” Sobbing, Hank forced
himself to lie still.

“That’s better Hank, now where were we? Oh I know, the accident.  Well, after
the yard guys found the papers they took them to the Judge. I guess they got
there just a few minutes after you left. Since everything was in legal, they
used some sort of prior entrustment contract you made out when you went into
the hospital for that operation, I guess Bill might have added some extra
language or something, anyhow the main thing is the Judge signed the order
and the job came to me. And so here we are and now you know why Jan was
laughing when you left the room. She knew there was a contract out on you as
well.”

“Marty, man come on Marty, we’re friends. You can’t do this to a friend. Come
on Marty. Damn it. Listen to me. Marty I’ll pay whatever you want,” said Hank
his panic returning and his voice getting higher with each sentence. “Just
tell me. How much is it going to cost. Marty, talk to me. Tell me the price.”

“Friendship is one thing Hank. Business is another. And this is just
business. Sorry but that’s the way it is. Everything's automated in this
room. I’m going to turn off the light when I leave. The blade will drop
quickly and I guarantee you won’t feel a thing. If you do just let me know
and I’ll give the county their money back.” As he left the room Marty heard
Hank’s scream come to a sudden stop followed by a thud like wet dirt slapped
with a spade.

The next morning Shirley stuck her head into Marty’s office.  “Mr. Brune,
what should we do with the meat from the Gygers?  His order gave her meat to
him and her order gave his meat to her. Now who gets it?”

“Well, technically, I guess it belongs to The Stockyard now. I tell you what
though, call up the food bank and see if they have enough room in their
freezers for both Jan and Hank. That way, on top of the slaughtering and
processing fees, we can take a tax write-off for donating the meat. Since
neither one of them was in very good shape, the write-off will make us more
money than we’d get if we sold the meat to a store. It’s even better than
finding a second hundred dollar bill in the till.”

Hell, life is good thought Marty to himself as Shirley went to call the food
bank. And with Hank out of the way, I might even win a few hands at next
month’s game.

Be sure to tune in Friday, November 20 for Cannibal 4H Chapter Twenty: A Day
At The Races, A Night at the Auction by Eurytion.

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