Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience. The Findings of Tiffany by unknown On the tour through Hills Meat manufactory "What's that?" Tiffany seemed genuinely curious. "It's called a Jessica 3000," he replied nonchalantly. "It's used to butcher women." "You can't be serious." Tiffany stared at the thing in wide-eyed disbelief. "I'm dead serious." He didn't seem to notice the joke. "This is a serious black market item. It's been used before, too." "No way!" "Sure. See, there are even blood stains on it." The most prominent feature of the device was an enormous steel spike; there were dark stains all up and down the colossal shaft. It sure did LOOK like blood... "So how does it work?" Tiffany wanted to know. Looking at the thing made her feel a little light-headed. She felt scared, but pleasantly so; it was like watching a really good horror movie. "The victim kneels down on it and sticks her ass up in the air. The spit goes into her pussy, doggie style. It goes all the way through her body and comes out her mouth. It's hollow, so she can breathe. Once she's spitted, the circular saw opens her belly and her guts fall into this trough. Then she's ready for roasting." Tiffany's heart was pounding. "It's obscene..." "But beautiful. It excites you." It was a statement, not a question. "Yes," she admitted. "There's something about it, something...honest." "What do you mean?" he asked gently. "It turns women into meat," she said slowly. "But we ARE meat. I realized that years ago. I mean, look at what we do on the show. Why do we get the ratings we get? It's because of my breasts, and Jennie's, and all the rest. People tune in to watch our beautiful meat. Women aren't really people in our culture; we're flesh. Most women don't like to admit that truth, so they spend their whole lives fighting it. They drive themselves crazy, make themselves miserable trying to be something they can never be. What I love about this machine is that it cuts right through all the lies and bullshit. The world really needs something like this, something to help us to become what we really are..." "Would you like to lie down on it?" he asked suddenly. "What? No, I..." "You could remain unbound," he added quickly. "I thought it might interest you, to see what it feels like to be on the machine." She thought about it. The thing terrified her, and yet the thought of being butchered for meat gave her an incredible, perverse thrill. "Yes," she said at last. "It might be interesting." "You should be naked," he announced. When he saw her smile, he added: "A girl would be naked, if she were being...processed." "Yes, of course." She had fucked him several times before; she didn't mind being naked in front of him. She unbuttoned and removed her blouse. Beneath it she wore a translucent black undershirt but no bra. She granted him a good, long look at her firm, round tits--she was quite aware that they looked fantastic through the undershirt; that's why she wore it, after all. Then she pulled the paper-thin garment up over her head to stand before him, topless and eminently desirable. She unzipped her black skirt and let it fall down around her ankles. That left only her black thong panties. With a sly, seductive smile, she hooked her thumbs under the g-string and peeled it off to reveal her bald, pink pussy. She elected to keep her black high heels; apart from the shoes, however, she was now quite naked. She approached the machine. "How do I get on?" "Kneel down, with one leg on either side of the gut trough. This bar holds your ankles down." She felt a thrill surge through her body as he locked the bar in place. "Lean forward until hit the padded chin-rest. The saw blade should be between and just below your breasts. Yes, that's right. Now, if we really were going to butcher you, this leather strap would go around your waist. And you'd be handcuffed, but of course I'll leave the cuffs off." "No," she said firmly. "Put them on. A girl would wear them, if she were on the machine. I want to have the full experience." He raised his eyebrows slightly but complied. The hard steel frame of the machine dug into Tiffany's belly as he tightened the waist strap. Her nipples hardened as the cuffs clicked into place around her wrists. She was so helpless now. It would be trivially easy for him to kill her. It felt good to be so powerless, so...feminine. "What happens next?" she asked, her voice thick with lust. "Um, I guess we should grease you up, so the spit will go in easily." "I think you'll find I'm sufficiently lubricated," she said dryly. "Oh! OK. Then we just need to click the spit forward until it's inside you." He showed her the remote control unit. It was very simple; it had only two buttons. One was marked "MAN F." The other rested under a clear, plastic shield; it was labeled "KILL." Tiffany's heart fluttered at the sight of it. Push that button and a woman dies. No hassle, no fuss. She admired the pure, brutal efficiency of the machine. "The instruction booklet says to push the 'manual forward' button until the tip of the spit is resting against the cervical wall. Then we're supposed to insert the anal bayonet," he announced. "You've never done this before?" Tiffany demanded. "Well, shit, Tiff, most girls don't exactly go for this kind of thing. You're the first one who's ever volunteered to climb on board." "They're all fools," Tiffany declared. "They don't know what they're missing. It's incredibly erotic." "Oh, yeah?" he leered. "No offense, stud, but I don't see how you can compete with a six-foot long steel shaft," she said gently. "No offense taken." He began to press the "MAN F" button, inching the spit towards Tiffany's open, waiting pussy. She held her breath in eager anticipation. She couldn't see it coming, of course, and that made it even better. At last she felt it, cold and hard against her hot, dripping lips. "Oh, yeah," she whispered. He gave it one more click, and it was inside her. She whimpered at the size of it. The spit easily outdid Tiffany's largest dildo. "Let me know when it reaches your cervix," he cautioned. "Couple more clicks," she gasped. "God, it's HUGE! Has to be the biggest thing I've ever had inside me." "How does it feel?" he asked. "Feels great," she smiled. "Hard and huge, just how I like 'em." "You're one kinky chick, Tiffany." "Thanks. I...oh! Hold it," she gasped. "Is that your cervix?" "Mmm hmm. Jesus, I have NEVER been fucked like this before. It's incredible. I don't suppose you can, you know, move it in and out of me?" "Sorry. It only goes forward. It wasn't really designed for recreational use," he remarked. "Too bad. Listen, I need to come in the worst way. Can you give me a hand?" "My pleasure, babe." Reaching up between her legs, he easily located her clit and began to rub, using a circular motion which he knew she liked. She smiled. He was such an attentive lover. "That's it," she whispered. "A little harder...oh! OHH! OHH!" The orgasm caught her by surprise; he had been rubbing her for less than a minute. It was also cripplingly powerful. She was astonished at the intensity of it. The Jessica 3000 was proving to be the best sex toy she'd ever used. "That looked like a big one!" he laughed. "Should I unstrap you now?" "No!" she gasped. "No. Put the bayonet into my ass, please." "Oh, yeah! I almost forgot about it." He slid the anal bayonet up along the length of the spit until the tip of it nestled against her puckered sphincter. He pushed tentatively, but the bayonet wouldn't budge. "Maybe I should lube this..." he mused. "Just force it in," she instructed. "I want the pain." "You're the boss." He gave the bayonet a shove; several inches of it vanished into her ass. She cried out in pain as the hard steel shaft violated her. "That's better," she gasped. "Now both my holes are full. What are we forgetting?" "Just the breast pumps, but they're only used to keep a girl conscious while she's being spitted and gutted." "What do they do?" she inquired. "These needles go into the girl's tits," he said, showing her. "They're hooked up to hoses which deliver a steady dose of stimulants." "Put the needles in me," she said softly. "Well, I don't see why, but all right. Where do you want them?" "Through the nipple, please." That should ensure maximum pain. She screamed as the first needle entered her stiff, pink aereola. "Should I stop?" he asked quickly. "No!" she cried. The pain was blinding; it felt fantastic. As the other needle entered her, she came again. She was in tears now. This was the greatest sexual experience of her life. "Put the remote control in my hand," she said softly. "I don't think that's a good idea, Tiff," he said slowly. "If you push the forward button with the spit already up against your cervix, it'll go through into your abdomen. And if you push the kill button, the automatic spitting and gutting routine will engage. Either button will kill you, Tiff." "Don't you think I know that?" she hissed. "Dammit, this is MY body, and I have every right to do whatever I want with it. Now give me the fucking remote." He complied wordlessly. She understood why he had to protest, but she also knew that what he really wanted was to see her fully spitted. "This is how I want to die," she told him, flipping up the plastic shield which covered the kill switch. "I think I knew it the moment I saw the machine. I've never been more certain of anything in my life. This is how I was meant to go out. Now, I want you to promise you'll roast and eat me when it's done. Call Tori and Jennie and the rest. Have a big barbecue, invite everyone over." "I promise," he said weakly. "Thank you. And thanks for giving me this; it's so wonderful!" Her thumb stabbed the kill button, and the spit lurched forward through her cervical wall and into her abdominal cavity. She gasped in delicious agony as it began to move forward through her body. It felt so good, so perfect. She was a head of cattle, a sweet sow. She had always known it, deep down, but now it was real. Now it was out in the open. She was a beautiful animal, and she was being beautifully slaughtered. "What's that sound?" she whispered weakly. "The buzzsaw just started up," he told her. "You're about to be gutted. Oh, Jesus, Tiff..." "Don't," she commanded. "I want this." The saw cut into her just below the sternum. Her belly opened like a Ziplock bag. She heard the sound of wet meat against metal as her guts spilled into the tray. They fell out without the slightest hint of protest. It was all so natural, as if her body had been designed for this. She was part of the machine now, and it was part of her. Her stomach felt lighter now--what a great way to lose a few pounds! And she felt a coldness where her guts had been. Her body was trying to go into shock. She was glad she had insisted on having the stimulant pumps installed in her breasts. Her firm, young tits were warm from the drugs; she felt the soft glow of the stimulants suffusing through her body. Yes. She was sleepy, but the drugs would keep her awake until the very end. The spit was at the back of her throat now, demanding entrance. She raised her head, opened her mouth, invited it to emerge. The wall of her throat offered little resistance. She tasted her blood and gore on the spit as it emerged from her mouth; it tasted fine. She relaxed. It was done. She was spitted, gutted; no longer a woman, she was a side of beef, ready for roasting. "You look fantastic, Tiff," he said. "I'd love to fuck you, but all your holes are full." She tried to shrug. "It looks like you're doing OK, so I'm going to go start the coals. According to the book, you should be able to live through quite a bit of the cooking process. I know you'll enjoy being roasted alive, and I'm sure as hell going to enjoy feasting on your cunt steak." Tiffany couldn't reply, so she just sighed contentedly. Her breath whistled through the hollow spit. She was experiencing the deepest, most incredible fuck of her life. And the best part of all was that it would last forever; she would die with this magnificent cock inside her. She understood at last what it meant to be a woman.