Written my Me
(WARNING: This is an ULTRA extreme snuff story, and is truly and utterly horrible. I can hardly believe it popped from my head. So if
you see a crumpled heavily jet lagged blonde at a major international airport ... don't mess with her.)
Proofed by Bill.
Hi Darling
I'm at Heathrow, in between flights. It's 5.30am, but not in my time zone. My feet are all swollen. My hair's a mess. I need a good wash and a good kill to put me back into a fine mood.
I'm sitting opposite a family of three, and I tell you Darling, I want to kill them so badly, it hurts. The father is a thickset man (probably getting thicker by the year) in his mid-thirties, but looks older, with boorish manners. He's the sort of over opinionated, union jack waving Englishman who drinks too much and gives my country such a bad name. His wife, "Dot", is a scrawny thing. Brown lank hair. Sunk in dark eyes. Skin pale and beginning to go limp with age. Though I bet she's younger than me, she doesn't take care of herself. What's wrong with these people, she looks like she's given up. Her stripy-hoop tee shirt emphasises how thin she is. She has less of a bottom than my Amy, and matchstick legs. She doesn't look well. I want to fix her mouth open with wires and force-feed her skinny belly until she chokes. I'd love to see her weak arms flail helplessly as I made her "pregnant" with food. And then we both know what we do with "pregnant" women! God! Even their little daughter is ugly.
But first we must deal with the oaf-father. I couldn't possibly have sex with him. Errrr, yuck. The thought of his fat stubby sweaty fingers on my silky delicate skin sends cold shivers of horror down my body. I'm sitting this barren airport cafeteria, almost trembling with the thought. Oh no, the thing to do with a man like this is to humiliate him. He's a bully. You can see it in his smug self-satisfied eyes. He beats "Dot" and smacks his little girl when she doesn't do exactly what he wants. And like all bullies, he is a coward, so if he can't get "Dot" to suck him off, or fuck her arse, I bet he fiddles with his baby girl's puffy little pussy. Though looking at the way he looms over "Dot", he probably does both.
So I think I'd like to stab him in one leg, and then the other. Stab him just to cut the tendons. Just to fix him still, and get his attention. You'll have to hold "Dot" and the child, but that'll be easy for a strong woman like you. I'll stand over him, and play with lifting up my short skirt, showing him my panties, encouraging him to think that he's got lucky. I'd turn around, slowly, sexily, and looking at "Dot", as he looks at my arse, slip my panties down. I'd turn back to face him, and I'd lift my skirt up and piss on him. Oh Darling, I really need to piss bad, and I'd piss in his fat smug face. I'd piss so hard, he'd struggle to breath, struggle not to drown in the river of strong yellow first morning piss coming from my smelly been-on-an-airplane-too-long cunt. And when I've done pissing, I'd turn around again. And smiling at stupid plain I-can't-be-bothered-to-make-myself-look-nice "Dot", I'd poke my big smelly arse in his fat face, and push out one huge long firm light brown shit, right into his face and down his neck. I'd take the little girl from you, and taking her little twelve-month old hands in mine, we'd rub the giant turd into his face, so that only his eyes and teeth are white islands in a shit face pack. And "Dot" would watch her bully husband being shitted on by a delightful pretty woman like me.
And we'd swap places, and I'd hold down the crying woman and her shit-handed daughter, and you'd unzip his trousers, and pull out his short fat cock, and you'd use your hand to give him an erection (because he's too ugly to suck, even when his face is covered by my shit). And he can't help getting a hard on. And "Dot" cries more, because her husband can be unfaithful, even when he's being tortured. And I hand you my knife, and you, in a couple of swift slices, cut through the base of his cock. You give the cock to his daughter, she takes it in her small hand, and she licks it like it's a lollypop. She ignores the pig squeal screams of her daddy, as he cums tall spurts of blood fountaining from his bloody groin, and shooting over to cover his screaming wife's legs. I can't bear her whining crying pathetic noise any longer, and stuff my panties into her mouth.
You oh so slowly stick the knife into his fat gut, and with both hands, slit his distended belly open. Blood and guts boil from his over stuffed body, running down the sides. A big-blob of intestines trickles down, slumping out of his body, into his lap. He quivers and wobbles as he goes into shock, loses consciousness, and clutches at his chest in a fist of agony at the heart attack he's having. And with the flick of life ending, he is dead, a rancid, shit smelly corpse. You grin at me, triumphant.
Together, we take the little toddler girl's silly clothes off. Honestly, the things some people dress their kids up in. I give her a little cuddle to my bosom. She still holds her daddy's severed penis in he small hand. I push her bare bottom into the squelch of her father's gutted belly. Blood and gore seep around her thighs and puffy little cunt, and up her back as I sit her amongst the still warm organs. She sits in her blood throne of her daddy's guts, looking across at her crying mum, taking the occasional lick of her daddy's cock, feeling all comfortable and warm in her father's belly.
You push "Dot" down, sitting on her flat chest, making it hard for her to breath. I take a wedge of chocolate cake and push it into her mouth. She tries to spit it out, but I push it back in harder, stuffing more into her mouth, she has to swallow or choke. She starts to choke; I take my hand away to get more cake and she cough-vomits the cake out of her mouth. I stuff more in, and wipe the vomited cake back into her mouth too. "Dot" has no option but to chew and swallow. I finish the cake and go get a bowl of soap. This is easier, faster. I quickly tip the bowl into her mouth and force her to swallow, and then get another, and another, and another. I swap with you; a little hump has formed in her skinny stomach. You get a big bit of quiche, and a plate of chips. Then you stick her hand down her throat, and make her vomit. But you push the vomit back down her mouth. It's a mistake! She starts to choke again. Her weedy body jerks as stomach acid runs down her air passages. Bits of partially digested, partially chewed food block her windpipe. "Dot" starts to asphyxiate. I struggle to stay on top of her, as she bucks for breath. Her legs thrash uselessly behind me. Her lungs scream for oxygen, her alveoli bursting, trying to suck air into her lungs. They fill with blood. Thrashing about, she has more strength than ever, but your knee planted on the top of her chest helps me to stay on top. Suddenly she jolts her whole body rigid. For a moment, her eyes roll up into her head. Like a zombie, she stares with white eyes. Then the body collapses, limp, dead. Between the fingers of your hand covering her mouth, vomited blood seeps.
You're so pissed off. Annoyed with yourself for having killed the bitch so quickly. Your face is purple with frustration. You swivel round, and glare at the small child sitting in the guts of her daddy's corpse. You lift up the arm that isn't holding her daddy's cock, and raise it until it won't go any further against the shoulder. You position yourself to push with all your strength, but when you push, the arm snaps out of the shoulder socket so easily. The child's mad screaming ringing around the room, you use the knife to slice through the skin and tendon - just like pulling a chicken wing off. You hold the arm aloft, grinning.
I know you want to play more. But I can't stand the screaming. I go to the child, turn it around, and push her screaming face into her father's warm guts. The guts ooze around her face. The child gurgles in her father's blood, then blissful silence falls and the toddler suffocates amongst her daddy's digestive organs. Fearful that you might snatch the girl off me, to torture her more alive, and let the screaming start again, I grab the top of the girl's head, and pull it back sharply. Her neck snaps, and her limp head slumps back into crimson and grey soap of her daddy's gutted abdomen.
I look over at you, a little sheepish. I know you'll be pissed with me. I know you wanted to play longer. I know you think I'm weak because I haven't got the stomach to listen to the screams of a baby-child. I told you before it's because I'm a mother and you're not.
I move to you, and place my small bloody hands under your large breasts, feeling the glorious weight of them, sliding the blood slowly around them. You draw me into you. I feel one hand lift my skirt and the other wipe the severed limb of the child between my legs. It feels so good.
I pull slowly away from you. I lay down. The lake of sticky blood from the stump of Daddy's cock glues me to the floor. I open my legs wide, exposing my cunt to you. You kneel between my legs, and insert the bloody bony shoulder end of the little girl's arm deep into my wet vagina. It scrapes roughly against the delicate membrane of my cunt walls. You pull your own panties down to your knees, and clamber on to me. For a moment, you struggle to get the hand and wrist into your own hot fleshy cunt. Then the child's forearm slips comfortably inside you. And together we begin to roll our hips, fucking each other with the arm dong. And soon, the rolling becomes pumping, and your glare down at me, grinning, knowing you are going to make me cum first, knowing that you have me, and I am totally yours my love. And the pumping becomes a stabbing, and I cum, and cum again, and it's so wonderful, and I can't stop cuming. And the shouts and squeals of my orgasms sets off yours. And you drive your cunt hard down into mine, and the arm is totally swallowed by our hot bloody cunts. And you scream so loudly in my ear as you cum. But it's a beautiful scream. A scream I adore. A scream I could listen all day to. The scream of my Darling's love.
Emily xxx
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