The Abhorrent Abortion

Page 1.

       It wasn't just a sin in the making.

       It was a disgrace on the scale of a crime against humanity, against all womanhood and motherhood, of something so terrible and incomprehensible that it begged the bounds of imaginable perversions and scraped over into the unspeakable, that in that it should not have been thought nor said, let alone set down in written words to be indelibly, irrevocably recorded.

       This is such an account and as such, dear readers are duly forewarned.        Prepare to be mentally assaulted.

       Some would say all abortion is abhorrent. Others would solemnly embrace it.

       The abortion debate, this is not, in any regard, what this account is about.

       If there are any moral issues they would be for absolute capitol punishment, with no chance of appeal, for the atrocities that follow. Perhaps even summary justice, like a lynching where all the pregnant women band together to re-balance the scales with sighted justice and aplomb.

       So all the feminists could applaud.

       She was a sweetheart and a gem and the nicest of the nice.

       The purest of the pure, all honey and spice.

       But strong and determined and independent.

       She deserved better and she got the worst.

       And she was pregnant.

       And I was up for torturing her pregnancy.

       And she could not countenance, no, come anywhere near to fathoming I'd bugger bang her swollen belly.

       This was a beauty in full pregnancy bloom. Raven black shoulder length hair with a gentle wave framing her alabaster face so perfectly. She was five foot eight and had only added thirty pounds even though she was seven months along.

       Her breasts had filled out and expanded marvelously and still she retained her sexual shape. I would have done her if she wasn't expecting but I'd chosen her specifically because she was for some added variety and additional dimensions to my reign of rapes, you might say.

       Variety was the spice of life, as the old saw goes and here there were two lives.

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       Of course, the moment I stuck the hand gun in her face, the very first thing, well almost anyhow, she pleaded was, 'I'm pregnant. Please don't hurt me. Please don't rough me up. I'm having my first baby.' This was after, 'Who? What? Who the fuck are you? Get out of my house. What are you doing in my house?'

       As nice nice as she was she could swear when she had to.

       While I made it sound like a burglary where I was surprised to find her there, if was more like 'baby napping - bitch. Kidnapping you and your fetus.'

       I figured that might explode her to fight so I didn't say it out loud.

Page 2.

       So the whole abduction was special and measured. I pretended to care about its welfare, about her's too and handled her somewhat gently but always firmly to dispel any doubts about who was the controller. When she'd resist, I resisted back harder and she fast got the message and complied.

       I had made no mention of targeting her belly and she still assumed it was an accident that a callous rapist happened to get a ripe one. Of course, for quite some time she didn't know about the callous, nor rapist, part.

       Our conversation, which was more like a marathon  negotiating session, like union contract talks, leading up to my first time raping her was classic. It was electric and full of untruths on my part and hidden truths revealed by her.

       It started ever so casually as she sat, not quite cowered in a corner of my special windowless holding place where they all went to be tortured. What a blessing to have a special, dedicated facility for that, sort of like an anti-hospital private operating room and I was the mad, but not angry, doctor.

       'You're not hungry?' I intoned all uber concerned and ecstatic giddy inside. I knew I was going to approach her for the very first time about having sexual intercourse with her and if she'd thought that was something I was after, she'd not dared to bring it up but more likely assumed because she was with child that would be off limits. No self respecting rapist would defile expectant motherhood. It would take an ingenious one for that, at least that's how I chose to view it and why I chose her.

       'No. I'm scared. I want you to let me go. I don't want to eat anything. I don't want any of your food. Can't you see, I have special food, a special diet for my baby?'

       'So McDonalds, a big mac triple cheese burger and fries and a shake, that doesn't cut it?' I tried to joke. It didn't cut it in the nutrition department and I knew it, but it was easy and fast and I figured she wouldn't be alive long enough for it to matter.

       'I told you, just let me go and we'll forget this ever happened. You haven't done anything to hurt me..' She paused pensive and reflective. 'Not yet. And as long as you don't I won't go to the police. I promise, so just let me go. Go. Go. Please.'

       'You wouldn't report me?'

Page 3.

       I made the tone of my voice seem like there was some hope I'd consider it and she seized onto it.

       'That's right. That's what I said. And I meant it. I promise.'

       The more she promised the less convincing she sounded as she grabbed onto my leaden straws.

       'But I've kidnapped you and I'm holding you against your will.' As if she didn't already know that, but I loved saying it out loud to remind myself it was reality and not just fantasy. I loved the sound of my own voice saying such delicious words to a beautiful, scared, imprisoned woman.

       'Yes. Yes, I know, but you haven't hurt me.'

       'Be that as it may, it's still a serious offence, like a major one and I've taken you across the state line so it's a federal one too. I could get five to twenty with no parole, maybe even life, that's how serious it could be construed to be.'

       She stopped silent. It seemed she'd hoped I didn't realize the seriousness of my actions nor the possible consequences for me, that it had been an impulsive burglary whereby I was startled to find her home and things had just escalated from there. But no, I knew too much about what penalties I could face for it to be a matter of happenstance. And it chilled her blood. It near froze her heart valves.

       'You're not going to hurt me. Are you? You're not going to try anything? Not when I'm like this?'

       She couched her belly and hugged her arms across her delicious, lactating breasts.

       'What would I try?' I teased her.

       We both studied each other in astute silence as if we could read each other's thoughts, me her fears, every good looking woman's fears, and her my appetites, what I kept between my legs.

       I just wanted to rip her clothes off and bang her belly but I demurred and acted all innocent like I didn't know, like I didn't have a clue.

       'What would I try?' I repeated myself.

       I don't know if she saw a glint of sex in my eye, but she backed off.

Page 4.

       'No, look. I was wrong. I'm scared and I need to go to the bathroom again.'

       'But shit, it's the forth time.'

       'I know, but the baby's weight on my bladder, you know, presses and I'm nervous too so I have to go again.'

       'So you're scared of me?'

       'No. Yes. I mean you have a gun. Anybody's scared of a gun, so yes I'm afraid of you.'

       Her words were music to my ears.

       'Well don't be. Do as you're told, co-operate and you'll be fine.'

       I approached her and took hold of the fleshy part of her thin arm just under the pit and helped lift her up. I think she pretended to be more cumbersome than she really was, for added dramatic effect and sympathy and all that, but I raised her up quite easily so she knew I was strong and she shouldn't try to fight me. Her pinkish knit material maternity dress pulled across her ample, expanded bust and it shot an expanding hard on into my dick. And I didn't try to hide it. I wanted her to see my budding boner so she'd know to fear my crotch. And besides what better way to introduce her to her cunt's fate? To broach the subject, so to say.

       'Well, so fuck. What have we got here? Take a look.'

       'What? No. At what?'

       'At the front of my pants. Look what's happening. What you've made me do.'

       So that's how we got into it - finally.

       'No. No, you said you wouldn't hurt me. Stop it. Stop that.'

       'Stop what? I haven't done anything. I can't help it how an involuntary reaction affects me especially at the sight of your great lactating tits.'

       She didn't like the sounds of those words at all, like a bit too personal and pointed and specific. And making something dirty out of something reverent and sweet, like no fucking respect for her expectant sensibilities.

       'Yes.. I.. No.. You.'

       'What? What's the matter?'

       'I don't like what you said, how you said it. And you know it. You're getting aroused. I don't like you getting aroused. Not around me. Not when I'm trapped like this.'

Page 5.

       'But it's not a crime.'

       'But it could turn into one. It is if you.. It is if you try..'

       She could not bring herself to mention sex.

       'To sex you. If I want to sex you?'

       'You can't be serious. You just can't be. You have to have respect for me, for the delicacy of my situation, of my physical condition.'

       'I suppose, but women have sex while they're pregnant, don't they? They can do it if they want to?'

       'Maybe, but that's the key. If they want to and I don't.'

       'Not at all or just with me?'

       She wasn't stupid at all and knew not to overly or overtly insult me.

       'Not at all. It's my first time and I tried and tried, we tried to get pregnant, so I don't want to take any chances. No risks, you see? You understand that? Don't you?' She was pretty well pleading that I do.

       'That sounds arbitrary to me, like just discretionary. It's something you've decided but it doesn't necessarily have to be that way. Am I right? Tell me I'm wrong?' I paused and added, 'You and your husband still fuck? When was the last time you did it?'

       Her mind was racing and she had to head my pecker's head off at the pass before I made a pass for her.

       'OK.. I guess OK, yes you're right, but the psychological factor is important too, to the baby's health. It, the fetus can tell if I'm distressed or afraid and it can transfer into its perceptions as it develops in life.'

       I almost laughed out loud right in her face.

       Airy fairy psychological bull roar.

       'You believe that? You really do?'

       'Yes, of course and it's true. I wouldn't say it if I didn't. I don't lie.'

       'Well you know what? What a load of hooey. What a load of feminist crap, but I have to give you credit for a good try, for being original. Good try bitch. What a load of shit-bull.'

       And then I did chuckle into her face and her hopes.

       A true look of fear waved across her eyes and then, as I escorted her along, we were to the bathroom doorway.

Page 6.

       She went to enter by herself but I followed her along in.

       Like an eager puppy dog.

       Looking for an anus to lick.

       'No. I have to go. What are you doing?'

       'I wanna watch.'

       'No. Don't be disgusting. You didn't the other times.'

       'No, but yes. I know, but then I didn't have this, see, a full fledged erection and we weren't conversing about sex. Now I want to see.'

       'I don't have to go anymore. No please, just take me back.'

       She started to turn to return and for the first time I roughed her up, or more just got uncaring with her. I shoved her into the bathroom and she near crashed onto the sink counter. She twisted about to face me as I advanced on her.

       'No. No, please. Don't. Don't attack me. Don't hurt me. My baby. My baby. I'll go. You can watch. Just don't hit me.'

       I didn't realize I'd raised my hand and made a fist, but I had so she begged from the heart.

       I caught myself short and pretended to be dismayed and distressed, even surprised at my outbursts.

       'There? See what you made me do? That's not a good idea, so cool it and just get your dress off.'

       'No. But..'

       'Get your dress off so you can go.'

       'Off? Off? No, I don't have to take it off to go. I can just hike it up, like this.'

       And she did and her beige silk panties stretched over her labia mounds almost exploded my pecker on sight. She saw the look. She knew the look. It turned out her husband was turned on by it too so she tried to hide her pussy business from my feasting eyes and growing crotch.

       'No. No, you stop it. For God's sake you're beautiful. Look at that. Look how your panties hug and form you. God you're fucking beautiful and sexual. Now take the fucking dress all the way off.'

       It took her ten minutes of wheedling and begging before it was a heap at her feet and I could see all of her magnificent swollen body and belly but she had no idea what I had in store for her gut.        

       She could never have imagined.

       No one could have.

       Not even readers.

Page 7.

       She had a special support bra on since she'd increased from her normal 34C to 36D+ and when I told her to strip the rest off, it came away first. Why is it when women are being forced to disrobe and they're down to their undies, the panties always come off last and the bra first? Like somehow the tits are worth less than the cunt, or the cunt's more valuable or vulnerable? It certainly was a recognizable pattern of compliance for me.

       I'd picked out a neat knife from my vast collection and tucked it in my pocket before.

       I showed it to her.

       I held it to her throat and talked with her.

       'So what do you think?'

       'About what?'  She answered meekly, but just under the surface her defiance bubbled and boiled.

       'What do you think I think about your tits?'

       I drew the knife across to the center of her chest just below her neck.

       'I. I don't know. I. What am I supposed to say? I don't know.'

       I drew the knife tip down into her valley making a thin scratch line but not making a blood line.

       'Be creative. Humor me. What do you think I think?'

       'I.. I suppose you like what you see. I suppose you appreciate me, them. I.. I guess..'

       'Fucking right.' I enthused as I headed for her nipple with the sharp point.

       She fully erected from the stimulus and the cold.

       'You like that, do you? Look, you've got as big an erection an me.'

       'Stop being disgusting and you know it's not that. I'm scared and you're tormenting me.'

       I flicked the point into her bud.

       'Tormenting you? I'll tell you what tormenting you would be. It'd be if I cut the fucking thing off. Or both of them.'

       I pressed the tip full into her and she dimpled down.

Page 8.

       'No. No stop you're hurting me. Please don't. Stop. What do you want?'

       'I want you to let me take your panties off and you just fucking stand there like a statue. If you fucking move I'll hack your fucking nipple off. Clean off, you hear me?'

       'I have to go or I'm gonna pee myself.'

       'You hold it. You fucking hold it. Or else.'

       'I can't. Please, I can't.'

       And she couldn't.

       She sprayed right into her panties and it soaked the front and ran all down her leg to the floor.

       'Fuck you bitch. What'd I say?'

       'I. I couldn't help it.'

       'So here's the or else.'

       And I did it.

       She had no warning, no fucking inkling.

       I cunt punched her a good upper cut right into the labia.

       And she yelped and flopped into my arms out cold.

       I lowered her to the floor, got her soaked briefs off and washed her up and down with a face cloth and warm water.

       I towel dried her pussy and near got to her cervix.

       I slapped her silly to get her to revive and when she did, that's when we did it. That's when I did it. We fucked right there on the bathroom floor. I couldn't hold it back any longer. She wasn't ruptured from the blow, but it hurt plenty so she didn't fight my thrusts and when I spunked her, she thought we were done, that I was all done with her.

       I'd raped her.

       I'd raped her.

       A pregnant woman.

       And that was the ultimate indignity.

       Or so she hoped.

       I'd raped her.

       But that had been a week ago and later, which was now, she was in really, serious, deep trouble. She'd tried to escape and I'd beaten her back and now it was time for her to pay, at least her kid in the making was going to pay.

       She was going to pay with her fetus.

Page 9.

       Caveat:

       There are accounts and there are other accounts to dismay the spirit and to upset perceptions of permissible violence, that stretch the boundaries and can offend all but the most steel hearted and monstrous of perverted egos.

       I am beg to suggest what follows is one of those instances where a girded mind is needed to continue.

       She didn't have the optimism she'd started out with a week earlier. Being raped repeatedly and taunted and disrespected to the nth degree could be an explanation for her faltering. She'd never been ass banged before either and in addition, my pecker'd done her six times into her rectum.

       She did try to seize an opportunity to escape which was something I'd staged. I'd set it all up so she thought she could make it when she didn't have a chance. I advised her she'd have to be punished for her nerve and I had to sort out what I deemed appropriate for her inappropriate behavior.

       It wasn't that I had to actually think about it. I just wanted her to think I did because it was why I'd grabbed her all pregnant in the first place. Her belly was the target and had been all along.

       I needed to torture her pregnancy.

       I was so excited I could barely think straight but I still managed to function efficiently.

       She was confused and whining about my preparations and wondered why I was going to such lengths, as if she thought it was work to me. And what would that job description be - fetus destroyer, like a navy destroyer, only better? Or just a plain old, old fashioned, abortionist?

       I'd started with the plank floor, solid wood and sturdier than a brick shit-house. I drilled a pilot hole and screwed in a round steel eyelet with a five inch shaft. The floor would have to come up before the eyelet pulled out and that wasn't likely since I'd located it solidly into a two by twelve floor joist as well.

       She was nonplussed when I took my tape measure and measured her across the front where her big belly was. Not her circumference, just how wide she was and it didn't matter how far she stuck out which was considerable.

Page 10.

       And the magical number was eighteen inches. She was a foot and a half across. I secured a second identical eyelet this distance from the first into the same floor joist.

       She was apprehensive and antsy.

       'What? What are you doing? What do you think you're doing?'

       'I'm building something? Can't you see that? Anybody could see that.'

       'Yes of course, but what? Why did you measure me? What does that have to do with that?'

       'Don't be so impatient. You'll find out.'

       'No. No, I don't want to find out. I want you to tell me and then to stop. I don't like what you're doing. I don't like the sound of it.'

       'Tough titty.' I said like an immature schoolboy.

       'And while I'm at it, I don't like how you rape me a little worse each time. You may not think I notice but I do and I don't like it. So now that I failed to escape, I can only imagine you'll want to hurt me worse. Make me pay worse.'

       It was so on the tip of my tongue, I had to bite it not to say it. Your fucking kid bitch. The slop in your oven. I'm after your fucking kid. We're going to terminate your pregnancy and we're going to do it together. I knew I'd say those loaded words to her but not quite just then.

       I marched on her and pulled her face to mine and forced milk out of her nipple as I kissed her mouth. I'd done it lots before so she wasn't overly afraid. She hated it but was learning to live with it.

       And then I did something which surprised even me. I hissed in her ear, like a wild-cat, low and long and menacing and did it again adding, 'Bitch. You got it coming, bitch.'

       Her blood near froze solid and she started to shake uncontrollably and, of course, the water works started anew. I loved when she cried. It made her even more human and vulnerable and breakable. Like a perfect torture specimen and subject.

       My next order of building perplexed her. I used a triple thickness of two by six's and made a foot square block of wood that stood five inches tall. I positioned it between the two floor eyelets about a foot down from them. None of it made any sense to her.

Page 11.

       Any self-respecting rape fantasy, bondage, S&M fan is familiar with comealongs, or fence stretcher/pullers or the ratchet device as I was want to call it. The mechanical contraption with a fixed hook at one end and a long handle for leverage to activate a ratchet spool to reel in a steel cable with a similar hook attached to it's end.

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       They come in various lifting rated strengths and I'd gleaned some army surplus ones good for five tons. One or two tons were the usual varieties available to the general public. The only thing I'd had to modify was to make the hook on the end of the cable detachable so I could feed the cable through my floor eyelets and that was a piece of pie for anyone mechanical like me.

       The last order of business was one more eyelet and I installed it six feet from the two close ones, again into the same floor joist so they were all in a line. My ratchet had a twelve foot pull so there was lots of cable to spare.

       Everything was set including my video cameras. I wanted two of them recording the spectacle from different views, since it was a first in a lifetime experience for me.

       At the last moment I recognized there was going to be a bit of a mess, so I put a small nylon tarp under the big wooden block and between the close eyelets.

       Now everything actually was all set.

       She was naked and I got the same so she assumed she was in for another fuck.

       I tugged her, by the hair, over to the floor set-up and told her to sit on the wooden block back of the eyelets.

       'What for? For God's sake, what are you doing? What are you up to? I don't want to.'

       'Just sit down and shut up. Or shut up and sit down. I don't care which.'

       I steadied her from behind and wanted to butt fuck her again, number seven, it would have been lucky number seven but I checked my impulse at her cheeks.

       'If I have to beat you to get you to co-operate, I will. Remember how I sucker punched your pussy? You didn't think much of that did you?'

Page 12.

       Slower than molasses in the Arctic, she settled down to sit on it, her big belly tight to her knees as she hugged her legs and her ample labia protruded out squished together. It was a parallel double banana sight and she had a tailored bush, just like the rest of her, it was neat and tidy.

       I took some close up stills of that view and it offended her.

       Mostly when I tried to photograph her cervix.

       'Now lay back. I want you to lay flat straight back with the block under your ass.'

       'No. No, I can't. No, it'll hurt. You're not going to rape me like that, are you?'

       She should have been so lucky, as in only rape her like that.

       'What do you think?'

       'I think you are, or at least that you intend to try and I want you to stop.'

       'I'm gonna make you a deal. If you're lying there, like I said, in the next twenty seconds, I won't kick you in the belly. If you're not, I'll stomp the fucking kid right out of you.'

       That was a new threat from me. I'd not suggested, in any way, I'd harm her baby and so she was horrified and almost smoothly got herself positioned as I'd ordered. And I must say it was spectacular, her ripened, bulbous cunt thrust way up into the air and of course her belly too and her trying to keep her legs closed but that being hard to do since it hurt more with them shut. Gradually she let them spread and that drove me insaner. Her breasts laid up along her chest headed for her chin and I really wanted to stamp on them. But that could be later.

       She wondered what the eyelets were for, close to her, in line with her belly. She'd find out soon enough and then wish she didn't know. That'd be for sure.

       'OK, that's good. That's excellent. Wonderful. Fucking fantastic. Spread your legs. Spread them even wider.'

       I almost spunked the air.

       She tried and she did and so it was time to get serious about restraining her.

       'OK, put your arms above your head. Stretch as far up as you can.'

       She had to.

       'Now move them out about forty five degrees.'

       She had to.

Page 13.

       With her positioned like that, I drilled two more pilot holes and installed the eyelets. I tied her wrists so she couldn't wriggle much. I loved the way the sinews pulled and flexed in her long, slender arms and, of course, her tits were defenceless. Fucking there to be milked and tortured at will.

       I did the same for her legs spreading her ankles three feet. She was classically spread eagled, the ideal rape position for a constrained woman. But it was so much better with her pubes thrust high into the wind because of the block under her ass.

       I strutted about towering over her mauling my own cock and massaging my balls and thumping the head. I peered down on my selections. What should I torture next? And I looked down on her. She wasn't the high and mighty, superior over-achiever she'd always thought she was. She wasn't the power bitch and feminist example anymore. She was a torture toy. My torture play thing and I intended to get right to it.

       I sat on her knee cap and fingered her elevated pussy. I made like I was going to slug punch her labia again, but didn't, and she winced every time. That was fun to do. I did ram my chin into her pretty hard so it was almost as good as a fist.

       I moved up to her tits and sat on them and some fantastic pillows they made. I fed my cock to her mouth. She gagged and sucked pretty fair and protested between slurps but not as much as when I started to slide my bum down onto her baby bump like I was going to use it for a cushion too.

       'No, for God's sake. No. Don't do it. Please stop. Don't put your weight on my belly. You'll hurt my baby. Don't hurt the baby.'

       How she could go on.

       I eased up, like I was listening to her and she was thankful but then I straddled her to let my boner belly stroke her and she knew I was going to cunt plug her again and I did.

       I plunged her as hard as I could because I knew it might well be the last chance I got to fuck her. It didn't take many smashing bangs to spunk her and I laid along her, inside her, panting and sweating all spent and then I got ready to abort her.

Page 14.

       I kissed her sweet mouth gently and with reverence because I knew what a terrible ordeal she was in for and she deserved some consideration if not full blown pity.

       I kissed and licked her vagina nicely and nibbled her labia and clit. No reason she couldn't have a little orgasm before she was disintegrated.

       I nuzzled her jugs and squirted her nipples and drank of her nourishment, but I knew those nipples had to come off at some point.

       Finally I laid my ear onto her tummy to hear the extra heart beat. The fucking thing was in there.

       Thumpity, thumpity, thumpity, thump.

       It was there alright, and still all right, but not for long.

       I selected the lucky ratchet device which freaked her when she saw it. They sort of look inherently evil, especially to a woman bound and tortured. I removed the cable end hook and fed the cable through one eyelet, over her belly, through the other eyelet and re-attached the hook. It couldn't pull back out through the eyelet so I didn't have to actually hook it.

       I addressed the other end of the ratchet by hooking the fixed hook into the eyelet six feet away.

       Everything was set except for one crucial detail.

       Her head snapped side to side and about, trying to follow my movements and discern what I was up to. Her eyes were wide and pleading and so was her mouth.

       What she knew best was she hated and feared the braided steel cable that was across her belly. No wires, no constraints, no mechanical devices belonged anywhere near her baby belly.

       Her intuitions were good but she had no idea how tight I could pull the cable.

       Ten thousand pounds of force.

       Five tons of force for a five pound fetus.

       Some match-up that would be.

       'Lift up.'

       

Page 15.

       'Uh? What? No. Why? Why are you doing this? What are you doing? You've already raped me. Let me go.'

       'Not so fast. We're not done yet. Lift up and I'll tell you. Arch your back up.'

       She just managed to barely and I slid the wood block out from under ass, out from under her tail bone and moved it up about a foot, to be under her belly at the fullest part and it dug into her spine at the back.

       I smacked her tummy and kissed it like I was really satisfied with my progress. Like she was my project and I was completing it with aplomb and getting really ready.

       No harm, no foul to the kid yet.

       It took a dozen full arcs of the ratchet handle to snug the steel line across her gut and her eyes grew huge with horror.

       She was starting to get it but what was she getting?

       'For God's sake. What on earth do you think you're doing? What are you doing? Why are you doing?'

       I didn't feel like answering her right then.

       I'd worked up quite a thirst from all my focusing and activity, but not for juice nor beer. Her tits were so full and ripe. I just had to have a guzzle.

       I got up beside her to kneel over her in a comfortable working position and went at her tit and tat. First one and then the other.

       I pried so much lactate out of her she was worried I'd endanger her supply and I didn't use a breast pump either. I didn't need one. My fingers were strong and pointed and ground and massaged her milk sacks like they were bugs being squished and I gleaned half a glass which was decidedly half full instead of half empty. Half empty, I suppose was the sentiment that applied to her side of the equation. The glass was half empty because the milk had been stolen from her jugs.

       And what the heck, I was up for threatening to steal her nipples too. I savored down the last of her nourishment and licked my chops and then licked hers and began her true decent into rape-torture hell.

Page 16.

       'You know I love those. I love your fucking nipples. How big and hard they get and how they've changed because of the hormonal shit going on inside you. I fucking love them.'

       I sliced my finger nail into the nerve endings right at the very tip.

       'If you like them so much, as you say, stop hurting them. Stop it. You're hurting me. Stop hurting me.'

       'I didn't say I liked them. I said I loved them. I fucking love them. What do you think of that?'

       'Nothing. There's nothing to say. Most normal men would. That's all.'

       'And good for you. Good on you. You know you're right. You must know I'm not normal, at least by now you must.'

       She was being steered and didn't like it.

       'So you know what? Again, as always, are you ever wrong? As always you're right so you know what, here's my normal. I love them so much I'd love to keep them.'

       Her face went all sullen and mad like she knew what I meant. She knew what I'd said but didn't want to know, for true, what I was getting at.

       'You understand me?' I enquired gently.

       She mumbled, 'No. No' And tagged on the end, 'I don't want to.'

       'So sweets, if you don't want to, you must have some idea then. Mustn't you?'

       I laid my hand gently to her flushed cheek and gave her a few soft lip pecks and then whispered in her ear.

       'It's OK. I was just foolin. That wouldn't be fair, would it?'

       'No, of course, of course not. How could it be? How could it ever be?'

       'But fuck, fuck bitch, I really love those buds, like chocolate rose buds, the Hershey candies. Everyone's had those at one time or another. Am I right?'

       She didn't want to entertain my inane talk and tried to shut down the thread.

Page 17.

       'Yup, just like rose buds.' I gloated again. 'And I really would love to have them.'

       'But no. You said. You said that wouldn't be fair. You just said.'

       'What? What did I say?'

       'You said it wouldn't be fair to me or my body if you kept them. You said. You know you did. It was just seconds ago.'

       'So look, looky here. Tell me. Tell me how I would keep them?'

       Then she really went mute and mule stubborn. There was no way she was going to describe the process, or so she thought.

       'Come on. You're not stupid. It's pretty elementary, so tell me how would I go about owning them instead of you?'

       'You want me to say horrible words about myself, about my breasts and I won't. I don't have to. You know full well. You know.'

       'I suppose I do.' I confessed as I twiddled my neat little cutting knife in my fingers.

       'Where'd you get that? I thought you lost it. You said before it fell into the heat register, the cold air return.'

       'You think I'd only have one? Like what kind of boy scout would that make me? Not being prepared?'

       She wasn't impressed with my readiness.

       'So now it's to the crunch sweet cakes. You tell my how I get 'em or I just do it with this. The choice is yours.'

       'No. It's obvious. You'd cut them off. That should be obvious. But please don't. My baby. It's not fair to my baby.'

       'What about bite them off? Same idea though, you wouldn't be able to breast feed then? But there's always the bottle.'

       'No. No, it's not the same. It's not near as good. Please, the bonding, the nutrition, it's so critical in the first hours and days, so please, I beg you have mercy. Be kind and don't.'

       I kissed her again and wiped her hair and the tears that had leaked out.

       'But you see, that's just the thing. You're not going to need them.'

       'No, what? What are you talking about. I just told you.'

       'No, you're not going to need them to breast feed.'

       'No. But no, you don't understand.'

Page 18.

       'Well somebody doesn't and it's not me. You won't need to breast feed if you don't have a kid.'

       'You're talking nonsense. You're being obtuse and dense. Why wouldn't I have a baby?'

       I ran my hands down onto her belly and softly massaged her and then gripped onto her bump like it was a basket ball I wanted to slam dunk. And I wrenched at her fetus inside.

       'No. No, God, so stop. Don't hurt my baby. You're not going to hurt my baby. No. No, you're not. You can't.'

       So that brought us full to it.

       The elephant in her panties.

       I knife-tip flicked her nipples and let her know, 'Look, we'll get to those later. Right now there's something you gotta know.'

       In advance of the news, her face was getting all scared and horrored. She could only shut her eyes when she needed to close her ears.

       'Open up. You in there? You still in there? Open up.'

       She did and pleaded with her soul, like she thought she could touch mine to influence me. She'd have had to have been addressing my pecker head instead of my face but her face surely was beautiful and fetching when she was so truly earnest.

       I almost wanted her to fellate me, a pecker poke to her gullet but I had to get to the beast in her underpants.

       I couldn't wait for her to know anymore.

       It was time to tell her, to let her in on the little secret.

       It was nice that she should know.

       'Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. I meant to tell you earlier. We're going to terminate your pregnancy.'

       I smacked her belly harder since it didn't matter anymore. All her illusions were fading.

       She didn't just cry.

       She howled and wailed and shrieked and blubbered and went near plumb loco, like demented.

       'No. God. No. No. No. Why? No, God, don't please don't. God. God. God. No. No. No.' And then some inhuman groans and grunts like a rooting and rucking hog.

       She went on like that for five full minutes before I slapped and slapped her hysterical face to summon her back to her senses.

       And it was hysterical.

       What a fucking hoot for me.

       For someone who adored watching beautiful women in abject distress this was a new high even for moi.

       And she couldn't force a muscle to free herself.

       Or find the right words to beg herself free.

       At least not in English which we both only spoke.

Page 19.

       I felt her belly and the cable taut across it and visited the ratchet handle. I applied it three clicks and the line made a grove into her gut and naturally pressed her down harder onto the block under her backside.

       She wasn't sure she'd ever imagined such a thing as even being possible, nor read it nor seen it anywhere in the horror movies, but it looked as if I was going to keep forcing the cable tighter and tighter across her belly until something had to give and she had no idea what five tons of pulling power, five tons of destructive power when applied that way, represented to human flesh.

       For example, It could pull the leg right off a properly secured woman. Dislocate it right from her hip, pop the ball out of the socket and keep on tearing and pulling until it all snapped free. At least that had been one of my previous experiences using them and the truly spectacular thing was, half her cunt got tore off too along with one of her ass cheeks and she managed to live half an hour in agony before she succumbed. I'd clamped off the big femoral artery to prolong the event.

       Anyhow, she pretty well had it right, but she never imagined the cable could near slice her in half if I kept at it long enough. That was the idea of the wooden block, to elevate her and eventually the cable would have to make contact with the block, but it would have to cut clean through her to do so, even dislocating or crushing some of her spine vertebrae. But it wouldn't cut her in half like a guillotine with a fast swing, but ever ever so slowly slowly and as I said, cut further and further into her even dislocating her spine before breaking it and paralyzing her.

       Now that'd be a good fuck. A cunt paralyzed from the waist down.

       Of course, the big thing was her big belly was in the way.        

       How unfortunate and perfect and what would happen to it inside?

       I was getting fascinated with the mechanics of crushing her fetus. Were there any options or optimum approaches? I was struggling with myself, with my expectations and preferences.

       It was all new to me. Not to say I couldn't nap another preggars woman if I screwed up. That would be the same as I did when I accidently murdered one of my previous victims, like killed her too soon. But so what? Big fucking deal. There were lots more to be found out and then too I knew what wouldn't work also. What was beyond tolerance. Like pulling a cervix out with pliers. That was another non non.

Page 20.

       But she was special and I really wanted to get it right to be able to congratulate myself afterwards. My main dilemma was whether or not to cut her ankles lose and bind her really tightly across her thighs just under her twat. With her legs spread as they already were, she could expel the baby when it was forced out of her. If I bound her hips tightly across her pussy, how would the fucking baby get out? It'd have to bust out through her belly flesh like a cesarian explosion or risk getting cut in half, maybe even it's molded head cut off. With her legs spread it could shoot out her cunt like it was supposed to for normal child birth. It could come firing out like a messy cannon cunt ball.

       I still didn't know, so I administered another half dozen ratchet clicks and the cable was sunk two inched into her hard belly flesh but it had a long way to go.

       I thought I should ask her, consult her about my choices, after all it was her gut I was fucking with.

       She was moaning a lot and barely coherent and, of course, weeping rivers so I had to bitch slap her face to focus her, but still she wanted to wail and plead and couldn't hear my voice for her own racket.

       Since it was going to die anyway, there was no reason not to belly bash her.

       I felt around.

       I felt aroused.

       It was like killing a meat loaf.

       It was like slugging a baloney.

       And I liked it.

       I liked the feel of her flesh inside of her flesh.

       I liked it so much I thumped her again with my knuckles.

       And put my ear to her to see if its heart was still there.

       Strong little fucker, really wanted to get on with living.

       It was still thumpity thumping away but I thought faster like it was scared, and not just of the dark.

       I laced her face with my backhand.

       'You shut up. Stop mewling. You quiet up or I'll stomp on it. I'll use your gut for a punching bag and then I'll stomp on it and if that doesn't work, I'll stab it, slice it open, for good measure.'

       All the talk was evil and it overwhelmed her.

Page 21.

       She sniveled to a stop, so she could do it if she wanted to.

       'So here's my problem. You listening? The cable's going to get shorter and shorter, tighter and tighter across your gut until something has to give and I can assure you it won't be the device. It'll lift five tons. So it has to be your fucking kid in there. It's going to want to come out. It's going to have to come out. It's going to be forced out. You following me?'

       Her eyes had glazed over and she prayed furiously to God and barely took in the first half of my problem.

       I continued undeterred and sort of analytical.

       'So, I'm not sure how I wants to do it. If I bind your legs tightly together, right at the top across your hips, the kid can't get out your cunt. Your legs will be too squished together and your leg bones won't give enough for it to get out so I figure it'll have to explode out through your belly, like boom, blasto, blood and guts and new born baby shit everywhere.'

       So how does a normal, rational, middle-class, pure white- bread woman handle those images? She doesn't. Her mouth hung open like a simpleton as she tried to comprehend my simple words.

       They weren't big ones. Just horrid ones, the pictures they painted.

       I continued excited and was really gettin' into it, really getting into the swing, so to say.

       'But with your ankles spread, the kid can come firing out like a normal birth. Right down and out the old birth canal. Row boat and all. Row, row your boat, right along the fuck canal. That sound better to you?'

       She must have had an inexhaustible supply of no's because that's pretty well all she could reply.

       'Can't chose? Well neither can I. Maybe I should flip a coin. Why don't I toss a quarter? That should be fair.'

       I was all set to and then she amazed me.

       She must have been understanding more of the implications than seemed evident and surely more than I thought. I thought her brain was already fried.

Page 22.

       'Please. Please listen. Listen. If it's vaginal, if it comes out my vagina, like the normal thing, I'll probably survive and you can do sex with me still. The other way I think I'll die and I don't want to be dead.'

       'Shit. Good score. Good point. If the thing twisted out through your belly, you're right, you'll probably end up dead and I won't be able to torment you anymore. If it dumps out your cunt like a good shit, you'd probably survive that. Wouldn't you?'

       'It depends on how much I hemorrhaged and how willing you were to help me, to stem the flow.'

       'I'd help. You have my word. I'd stuff a towel inside you.'

       'You'd have to help me better than that.'

       'Yeah, sure. So then I could have a great time teasing you about losing the kid. Yeah, that sounds great for me. Not so great for you overall, but that cuts it then. Legs apart then.' I gloated with pride at my decision making abilities.

       As impossible as it seemed she seemed relieved, even grateful.

       I ratcheted her tighter with renewed vigor and she was extremely hard pinned to the wooden block, like she was nailed to the floor with a twelve inch spiral spike. It soon became obvious she could not struggle free nor barely budge so I cut the cords binding her ankles and her legs pulled up and spread at the same time as she tried to buck her way off the block under her backside, but to no avail and it hurt like blue bloody murder.

       With her legs waving around like that she was too tempting to resist. She still had a whole cunt.

       I crawled up between her legs and slithered onto her crotch and it was a tricky position to bang her in but I managed to pole her and spunked loaded her all in five minutes. Her nipples had hardened again so I set half a dozen long hat pins through them sideways. She hollered but she was already in so much pain it didn't sound like more. I pried her cunt open to see if the kid was coming out yet but that was an anatomical impossibility, at least at that juncture.

Page 23.

       I got a couple of hat pins into her engorged, stretched clit and she did holler louder for that. It was like puncturing a ripe worm.

       Then I figured, why not? She was so fixed, like I said, she was nailed to the floor in place, I cut her wrists free and she shocked me again. Without even hesitating, she yanked all six of the hat pins out of her nipples. It was harder for her to de-pin her clit but she managed that too and then she tried, with all her fortitude, to dislodge the wood block under her spine and it wouldn't budge a fraction.

       As I strolled by to attend the ratchet she flung her arm out and locked onto my ankle. She pulled and pinched and tried to skin my shin as I knelt down. It took no effort at all to use my other foot to stamp on her engorged tit. The milk shot out and near drenched my face. Fuck it tasted even better like that. She had to break her grip on my leg, trying to deflect my rain of fist blows to her bouncing chest.

       Two fucking punching bags, that's what they were become.

       I grabbed her pierced nipple and pulled it to her ear and line smashed her in the stretched underside of her tit. Lots of it broke inside and blood mixed with her milk. It wasn't red, but soft pink.

       I prepared to hit her harder but she looked to be swooning and about to pass out and I didn't relish that.

       I slapped her face instead, kissed her open mouth and told her, 'So, OK. OK. Now it's time to get real. It's time to abort.'

       'Please. Please I pray you. Have mercy. Don't kill my baby. I don't want to see my baby dead.'

       'Look there is another choice.'

       'What? No? Yes, What? What is it?'

       'I could kill you instead. If you really want me not to kill the kid by crushing it out of you, I could just waste you instead.'

       'But no. No, I told you I don't want to die and besides the baby wouldn't live anyway. You have to know that. What kind of a deal is that?'

       'Oh yeah, I forgot about that. But if you don't want to go through the trauma, this is your chance out.'

       'Can I think about it?'

       'Sure you can while I keep on working it. It's called a ratchet you know, they use them for stretching fences on the farms.'

Page 24.

       I settled in beside the handle and got comfortable, you might see, and prepared to go the distance.

       I'd keep increasing the pressure, keep on constricting her belly even if it snapped her spine until the kid shot out and if I cut her, cut it in half, that was the collateral damage.

       The cable was buried five inches into her gut which was getting to be deep and finally, as in at last, the blood started to flow out her pussy. Just a trickle. There was no way her cervix was dilating so it had to be rupturing, tearing open from the upside and that was a good sign. It meant the baby could get out.

       I had to give up on trying to keep her conscious. I was severely compressing her spinal discs and the pain shot right up to the back of her skull and down to her ass. I used half a bucket of the smelling salts and to no avail. She was far too traumatized and uncomfortable and mentally smashed to stay awake for her kid's death which I could sense was extremely near.

       Then it all went sort of blooey hooey.

       She began to beg me to kill her, the pain was so insufferable but I led her to believe I'd changed my mind. I'd never offered it as a true option so there was no way out of her fix.

       But she was wearing me down with her strength and I needed a break and was set to leave the room for a snack and a piss when she came back to on her own wailing in tongues. It was like language, but not. I couldn't understand any of it other than it meant she hurt and was in agony. Maybe it was the Holy Spirit come to rescue her kid and try to scare me off.

       But then..

       Then..

       Was she starting to miscarry?

       I wasn't sure, but if so I wanted to help her.

       To miscarry.

Page 25.

       I worked the ratchet handle furiously, tighter and tighter the cable, until it let her rip and she pooped a shit load of baby crap out her cunt along with a big spill of amniotic sac rupture fluid. I guess the thing didn't want to be cut in half, like guillotined, so it scrambled on out. I swear the mess, it's little head stared right at me and squealed at me in a high pitched shriek, like the travesty, the unmitigated travesty, oh the horror, and how was this to be born after six long months in the dark?

       I could see a heart beating and no dick.

       It had a cunt too, just like hers.

       The rest was more of the mess.

       There was a cord but sort of scrawny and all kinds of sack shit and I scooped up the remains with a garden trowel. I cut the cord. Wasn't her husband supposed to do that? I squeezed on the still beating tiny heart bursting all its valves until it croaked and that was that for it and she was still very much alive but bleeding like a gutted, stuck sow. I shoved a terry cloth hand towel way up into her and it got redder and more red and then it stemmed the gush.

       I dumped the slop into a glass mason jar to show her what she had and the promise of what she could have had, had she never crossed my path.

       Funny thing was, she thought it was a big day when she got pregnant and when she found out she was, but it was a bigger day when I saw her for the very first time, when she first crossed my path. When I first laid eyes on her and she didn't even know it and I supposed if her husband had kept it in his pants instead of in her cunt, she wouldn't have got pregnant and I wouldn't have had her then because that was really why she was mine and not his anymore.

       But he wanted a kid. They both wanted a kid and then so did I. And then I had his kid. Talk about your diverse perspectives or differings of opinions and ownership being nine tenths of the law.

Page 26.

       I slept like a baby that night and not like a dead one. And woke up in the small of the morning with the perfect solution, with the perfect idea.

       I'd done lots of doubles, friends and sisters and, of course, the best of all, mothers with young virginal daughters who would go to every useless length trying to spare them my dick and eventual death and dismemberment, but not necessarily in that order.

       But, and it was the big one, I'd never done a pregnant mother with a young hymened daughter.

       What unlimited possibilities for extraordinary cruelty forcing her to chose between the fetus and the kid she already had and then wasting them all anyway.

       I was so pleased with my ingenuity and creativity, I got right up and decided to deposit a complementary spunk load in her bloodied cunt.

       When I got close beside her, I thought she was dead.

       But she wasn't.

       She'd made up her mind, with fierce determination, she demanded to live to exact revenge on me. She didn't care how long it took. She was going to severe my balls and rod and force me to eat them. She'd seen horrors and learned of horror and then she intended to exact horror.

       And I couldn't wait for her to try.

       She wasn't a mess. She was a wreck with a wrecked womb and uterus and fallopians and all that other hysterectomy shit, but her canal and clit were fine and her labs so she fucked fine. As I said, her cunt wasn't all that damaged, at least not at the mouth  and her clit seemed to work still good. She juiced up and I plowed her extra hard to be sure I tore more at her cervix. When those thrusts started, she passed out pretty fast and I deposited her the load while she wasn't aware. Which meant she'd have to have it again and again and again when she was awake.

       So, oh happy day.

       Wasn't that a night?

       Wasn't that a party?

Page 27.

       After that, we entered new territory.

       And that was the thing about an impasse like we had, the new dynamic, words can barely do it justice.

       How does a woman continue in any normal manner when she's so changed? And a changed woman she was. She was a lethal, killing, revenge machine lurking in the shadows and she never lost sight of the images of tearing my heart out, gouging my eyes out, and, of course, the testicles/boner thing.

       She was truly sullen and uncooperative and often we went hours without her speaking back to me. But that suited me OK. It meant she was making an effort to maintain her fury at me which made her extra fun to break and it afforded me all the more justification to slug her about and threaten to decapitate her areolas.

       What she never seemed to fathom was as tough as she was, as tough as she had become with her resolve and her fortitude, which often crumbled when I showed her the mason jar with her kid slop in it, her soft tissue was never a match for varieties of steel and degrees of heat nor nylon fishing rod whips.

       Geeze, could those whips lace a cunt right in the crack of the lips.

       Anyhow, no matter, she was welcome to her delusions about revenge and they didn't faze nor temper me in the least.

       So what does she say to herself as we often sat their in silence eating our meals together? I'd had to threaten to blind her to get her to eat sometimes since she thought she could outsmart me, like better me, by refusing to take in sustenance.

       So what does she say to herself as I sit there naked with my boner and a jumbo hot dog I'm scarfing down while jerking off in front of her?

       'You murdering, demented fetus killer. I can't express how I loath and despise you. I cannot say how hard I hate your guts because there are no words strong enough to carry the weight of my bitterness and angst, nor my resolve.'

       What does she say to make me feel guilty or even afraid and to make herself feel better?

       At least there's a word for it.

       Ineffable.

       That's the word for no words.