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Fuckpig lay on her back watching a buzzard circling as Rinkla Bezumu fucked her, she liked the little hillock by the old Tennis Court at the former Country Club, now local ZANU PF headquarters, because she could watch what went on and it was near to the kennel where she lived and the kitchens where she stole her food.
Her fingerless hands had healed now, and the skin on her stumps where they had severed her legs at the knee was hard and calloused and she was able to discard the child’s boots she used to wear if she kept away from the Tarmac. She liked an early morning dip in the river and would wallow in the mud banks to get a nice coating of mud to avoid sunburn.
She was getting fat, not from pregnancy, Her friend and surgeon Mr Stephens had seen to that, but from eating scraps, she was so scared of starving that she was eating too much, a great big fat lazy fuckpig. None of her clothes would have fitted had she been allowed any, but she was the official ZANU PF imperialist fuckpig and fuckpigs don’t wear clothes.
She liked to wear her boots in the mornings and had learned to put them on herself, then she would go to the carefully manicured lawn, now used as the parade ground where The Officer took the salute and have a shit as the flag was raised, kneeling on all fours like a Pig, sometimes she would eat an apple as she shit, but no one thought of her as a person anymore so her act of defiance was ignored.
Stephens had realised he could read her lips and they had long conversations in the moonlight, she would not let him fuck her but used her mouth to keep him satisfied, with no tongue to obstruct her facial orifice his prick fitted easily into her throat, and she breathed easily as he shot his load each evening, but each night she returned to her lonely kennel and he to his bunk.
She had made other friends, Bush and Blare the Rottweillers, she had stolen food from the kitchens for them, and spent time with them, sooner or later she knew they would be ordered to attack her, she sneaked into Blare’s kennel one stormy night he was unsure but after eating the meat she had stolen for him he allowed her to give him a blow job, and soon he realised she wished him to mount her.
She came to enjoy her nights with the dogs, when she trained them to take her cunt and to fuck face to face not doggie style she found the experience emotionally satisfying, the knot keeping them together when passion was spent, and she appreciated the warmth of their fur coats in the cold African nights, she visited them in turn, one tonight the other tomorrow, after seeing Stephens in his quarters and then dozed on the hill by the tennis court in the daytime as the Soldiers fucked her.
She sometimes thought of her previous life but there was always someone needing to fuck her or else with her obscenely enlarged breasts her nipples were touching the ground as she bounded along stimulating her so that she needed to find someone for sex that really she had no time for such thoughts.
“What would you wish for if you could have anything?”
A voice asked as she was fucked again.
“Campari and Ice,” she whispered as she had painstakingly learned to do.
The Officer roared with laughter, he had asked, she had not known it was he.
He was troubled, white women were supposed to hate sex, yet she seemed every bit as oversexed as the young girls from his own tribe, perhaps there were no differences under the skin. He quickly set the treasonable thoughts aside.
Warm sun, regular orgasms, her pet dogs, her soul mate Mr Stephens, she did not know his Christian name despite all the blow jobs she had given him, Susan realised that for the first time in her life she was happy.
Her mother hated her, legacy of a failed attempt to ensnare an earl, he mother dumped her at the earliest possible stage and her mothers parents brought her up in their austere town house, then boarding school at five years old, a fat ugly duckling she remained a Virgin until University where her belly subsided and her tits became pleasantly rounded and then in the gap year she had married Richard so she could accompany him to the UAE an Islamic country frowning upon single women.
Why could Richard have not fucked like Mikel Bung or Joshua Unfartu, or flooded her with pints of cum like Johnston McBride. Her sex life had never been important to her but now she realised it was because she had never really had one.
She lay watching and a woman approached. “You fuck my husband too much, he has nothing for me”
Susan pointed to her empty mouth with her stump.
The Woman looked sad, Susan put her arms around her in a sisterly way, but their breasts interlocked and they looked into each others eyes and smiled, their lips entwined, the girl explored Susan’s mouth with her tongue as Susan eased her knickers down and for the first time explored another woman’s cunt with her thumb.
They were unaware they had an audience.
“Mugenwe what are you doing” A voice shocked them to reality.
“I tell her leave you alone, you fuck her not me” Mugenwe told her Husband Pieter.
“You are insatiable, you are not normal” he replied pulling his gun and aiming it at Susan.
A shot rang out and Pieter fell to the floor dead.
“He was going to shoot fuckpig” Joshua Unfartu explained.
Mugenwe looked stunned “He was no husband, he was a boy, I want a man.”
Joshua needed no second bidding and quickly tore Mugemwe’s knickers from below her knees and drove deep within her. Fuckpig held he face between her fingerless palms and kissed her as Joshua pleasured her and the crowd grew, someone started to fuck Susan but she did not look up preferring to concentrate on Mugemwe’s tender kisses.
“Am I man enough for you?” cried Joshua as he came.
“Do it again and I will tell you” whispered Mugemwe as she giggled satisfied as she had never been before.
Fuckpig was learning all the time, she watched Blare and Bush and took to marking her territory with piss like they did, and still made sure they fucked her regularly, but life was hassle free, she came to realise she had found utopia.
The UN mission came, Fuckpig saw them coming, the plume of dust travelling fast. wasting fuel, where ZANU drove carefully. A Landcruiser, White with UN emblems.
Fuckpig crawled to her kennel and checked her stash, she had aksaray escort hidden three knives and two grenades which she had stolen, she knew The Officer could not let the UN find her, and she tried to hide in the shadows.
The Officer just missed her at the Hillock but correctly assumed she was in the Kennel, she heard his footfalls and stopped breathing. He could see nothing, he edged into the stinking kennel and in the gloom he saw her, the grenade in her front paws, the pin in her mouth.
He froze, then carefully aimed his gun down and returned it to his holster. “The UN, I can’t let them find you.” she could not speak without losing her grip on the pin but she bowed faintly. “Stay in the darkness until they go, then you may be safe.” The Officer cautioned her and then carefully walked away, gently shaking with fear at his brush with death.
Fuckpig should have followed his advice but a few minutes after the delegation arrived she scuttled out, she had become used to her status as pet but had not realised what her effect upon the UN team would be.
The Inspection had started well, Stevens had polished up his instruments and was wearing a clean white coat, the Dogs and Crocodiles had long ago digested the evidence of executions, and the four UN inspectors seemed well satisfied with the arrangements for the elections to come. The polling booths, boxes waiting and voting rooms were all fine and then as they enjoyed a cool drink fuckpig trotted around the corner.
The tinkling of a glass breaking on the concrete announced to those who did not see fuckpig coming that something was wrong. his face turned ghostly white as the glass fell from his hand. The Officer drew his pistol “Be calm gentlemen please, this is Miss Susan Harding, our white imperialist fuckpig.”
“I shall haf to report this” Piet DeNeuve, the European UN observer mentioned.”
“We won’t live that long, you bloody fool,” announced the woman in their party, “how could she demean herself, I would rather die.”
“Well said Madam,” The Officer beamed, The Woman would have been beautiful but for her thin straight nose, narrow lips and undersized breasts, her white skin tanned to a healthy shade her blonde hair bleached white. She stood proud erect upright like a man, he thought of her sucking his prick whilst the dogs took turns to fuck her, he smiled, he would have some fun.
“This desire to report things is unfortunate, but we can always use an extra Land Cruiser, and the Crocodiles are hungry,” He walked slowly towards fuckpig and tenderly stroked her head. “You see Susan is healthy and happy so why do you react so negatively, would you think the same if she were black?”
The Woman spat, “you are an animal”.
The Officer replied, “as are you anthropologically” as his gun barked, and three neat holes appeared in three foreheads, it was strange how two fell backwards and one forwards. of the Five in the UN party only The woman and the driver remained alive, for the time being at least
.
“I am sorry, but I cannot leave witnesses. Jakob, let us feed the Crocodiles.”
“What about me” the woman asked.
“You shall watch the Crocodiles.”
Orders were shouted and men ran to obey.
An ancient GMC five ton truck lumbered across the once immaculate lawns of the Club and the War Veterans easily loaded the still warm bodies aboard, the gun barrel in his ribs encouraged the UN driver to board whilst the woman climbed up quietly without protest.
The trip to the river was fairly short, the track led to the river then along the riverbank to the deep ponds near Klevedon lodge, even in the driest summers when the river shrunk from its fifty yard width to a muddy trickle a few feet wide and but a few inches in depth plenty of water remained here but there were always crocs around at Klevedon, with its ponds and long fishing Jetty.
The Lodge was a blackened shell with the roof gone and the walls peppered with bullet holes, an oversized Bungalow for the amusement of white farmers as they fished for crocs for fun and now used by locals to catch crocs for meat and raw materials, crocodile shoes being a cheap alternative to Chinese plastic now the economy had collapsed.
The wooden Jetty looked very unsafe, standing several feet above the sluggish river water, the legs rotten, some parts missing completely. The Officer undid the catches and dropped the truck’s tail board, allowing the passengers to disembark. The Woman remained clutching the side rails tightly.
“Yes you can see very well from there, I shall come for you later.” The Officer advised her, as the others carried the stiffening bodies towards the pond.
They stood around the landward end of the Jetty awaiting orders, unsure of the safety of the structure. The Officer shouted
“Ah Driver, walk to the end, there’s a good chap, make sure it is safe for us.”
The UN driver looked at The Officer’s gun barrel and carefully set off along the apparently unsafe structure, he reached the end, The Officer shouted “Jump up and Down”
The driver obeyed reluctantly, the structure barely moved.
“The end structure is Steel, just made to look like wood, sir” Jakob Unfartu murmered quietly.
“Yes Jakob, but let’s not spoil the fun.” The Officer replied.
“Come here, take a stiff out to the end.” The Officer bellowed and the terrified driver
returned and lifted the first body and took it to the end of the Jetty.
“Just put it down and fetch another.”
Soon three bodies lay on the wood planking at the outer end of the jetty.
The Officer smiled “Live bait I think, shoot his leg please Jakob”
The Driver screamed as he lost his balance deprived of the support of his left leg as Jakob’s bullet smashed his knee cap.
The water boiled as Crocodiles fought over the free meal, the muddy water briefly turned red with spilt blood.
The Officer walked to the Truck and held out his hand to guide the Woman as she climbed down to the ground, he led her to the Jetty, “Just push the bodies in for me.”
he asked politely.
She walked carefully, as if the six feet wide platform were a tightrope. at the end her dead friends and colleagues, now cold if not stiff, crocs eyes breaking the surface betrayed their presence.
She pushed the first, carefully, careful not to fall herself. akyazı escort it landed with a splash and the waters boiled as the crocs tore the meal into bite sized pieces, the waters subsided and the order “Next” drifted across the water, the woman pushed another body, the crocs came again, the same or different ones she could not know but there could be hundreds, and certain death awaited her if she fell.
The waters subsided, and again the order and the body descended the waters boiled the red stains crocs fighting for their fair share of the bounty.
“Last one” The Officer ordered.
“Jump, or dive, we are waiting, this is your chance, to escape, surely you prefer death to the humiliations which await you?”
She looked down, he had won, she could not face the plunge.
She stared straight into his eyes “Shoot me”
He smiled and shook his head.
“Please” she added, “please shoot me.”
“No it would waste a bullet, just jump, like at the swimming baths.” The Officer suggested.
“I can’t.”
The Officer spoke loudly and clearly “Then you understand how Miss Harding became my fuckpig, will you become our fuckpig, live like an animal. or will you jump.”
“Will you hurt me?” she asked pointlessly.
“Of course we shall hurt you, we shall rape you this evening and when we have worked out what you do best we shall modify you to our taste, like fuckpig. but not exactly,
She stood and slowly walked towards the shore.
The Officer shouted across, “Stop, take your clothes off and throw them to the crocs,”
“Shoot me” she replied hopefully.
Willing hands grabbed her as she reached dry land her jacket, shorts and underwear
were stripped away to reveal her pale beauty, the pulled her hairpins out to let her hair cascade around her shoulders.
“That is disgusting,” The Officer pointed to her lush pubic hair, “somebody shave her now.”
Their razor sharp bayonets barely scratched her s they hacked the fur away and despite the humiliation or maybe because of it she realised to her horror she was becoming aroused, her clit peeped shyly from its hood and she was becoming distinctly wet,
“No please not my arse” a savage fondled her tight rear entrance, all black men were savages in her book, animals, all of them. It did no good for instantly a black wooden rod was produced, a policeman’s truncheon, she recognised it and she saw a savage spit on it and despite the searing pain she was unable to resist its entry, it eased as the savage moved it around to loosen her then suddenly with a plop it was withdrawn and thrust instead into her moist slit.
She felt relieved they would just use her normally, she had never even considered the possibility of Anal sex, and the pain of the truncheons entry had convinced her she would never consent to such when she felt a warm stiff prick pushing at her rectum, strong hands held her as the first savage entered her, awkwardly at first then more easily as her insides adjusted but, when having closed her eyes because of the pain, she felt a penis against her labia, pushing in and up she realised that she was to be taken simultaneously by two men.
Two big men, she wondered if one penis would emerge from her intestines into her mouth it felt so good, she meant to think huge but, self preservation instincts were playing tricks with her mind, a disembodied voice she later recognised as her own was asking to be fucked harder, men changed places, and slowly the sun set on the Lodge, a fire was lit to keep wild animals away and amid the flickering light they took their pleasure.
The Officer looked on, she looked like something from a pornographic magazine and she seemed to enjoy the attention, she needed to be brought to heel.
The Officer waited until everyone had taken their pleasure before her embarked on the next stage, they brought her to the camp fire, where on The Officers instruction
Ezikiel Bezu, heated the brass hooks in the flames.
She looked in horror yet silently as the hot metal sizzled against her left nipple, it stiffened in confusion as the metal slowly burned the flesh away and passed through.
Willing hands held her as she fainted and someone pissed in her face to wake her.
The right nipple was next and again the smell of burned flesh, then the lips of her sex two brass hooks, one through each side, and finally as it strained peeping from its hood her clit, the brass sizzling as it passed into her most tender spot and she screamed the tortured scream of legend, echoing around the river valley, scaring birds into flight and sending wildlife scurrying away fearful for their lives. They hung fishing weights on the hooks through her nipples threatening to tear them from er body, then on the labia hooks, she supported the nipple weights in her hands she reasoned she needed her tits and screamed as the weights on her labia distorted the flaps of flesh, they lifted the dropped each in turn tearing the flesh a little more each time causing the blood to trickle then flow and finally from the continued torture as they molested her again and again the hooks tore completely through the fleshy flaps her lips tore apart, she realised she could be bleeding to death.
The Officer regretted not having Stephens along but they quickly staunched the blood with a rag that had been part of her clothing and after loading the Truck they returned to base.
The Officer roused Stephens and he came quickly to the makeshift operating theatre with the old Pub bench to operate on and his rusty surgical instruments, he saw the blood soaked rag between her legs and feared the worst, had she been disembowelled the way defeated enemies were disembowelled in olden times?
Stephens ordered the War Veterans to leave him some room, as he peeled away the blood soaked blouse to inspect the wounds, then taking his craft knife he started cutting slicing the skin around her cunt cutting away the torn and useless flesh before sewing the wound neatly, he admired his work, no longer would she endure the pain of pierced lower lips because essentially she no longer had a visible labia at all, the skin now remodelled so the entry to her womb was now a simple slit like a young girl, the ugly flaps of skin consigned to history.
“When can we fuck her?” a War Veteran asked.
“Right now, give it a try, I alaca escort will do the stitches again if they tear.”
But there were no takers, and she lapsed into a fitful sleep.
She woke next morning, and immediately fainted.
Stephens had cut her left breast open and was fitting a none too clean silicon implant, one of a pair bought for fuckpig before they realised her tits already brushed the ground.
Soon Stephens had enlarged both of the Woman’s Breasts to DD or beyond and the skin now stretched painfully over them the stitches threatening to pull out.
She woke and then fainted several times before she finally managed to ask Stephens what he was doing.
“Officers Orders”, he lied, the boys liked big tits and being liked was the only way she would stay alive for a while.
Stephens looked at her naked and ravaged body, her breasts a mass of bruises, the stitches ugly and raw, and her cunt, somehow especially obscene with the neat pattern of the stitching etched out in dried blood.
The woman was saved by an unlikely event, a gang of Movement for Democratic Reform (MDR) had attacked a ZANU PF Land Rover when it broke down, the War veterans had fought back and captured their attackers and Stephens was asked to work his magic.
The four men were brought in, proud full of fight, sure of the justice of their cause, all young, eighteen perhaps. The Officer spoke softly “Mr Stephens, I wish these “Men” to return to their families as a dire warning.
Stephens smiled “I shall try, have you any guidance sir?”
The Officer shook his head, Stephens spoke thoughtfully, “I shall experiment in that case,”
The woman laid on one of the Pub Tables Stephens needed for surgery, her freshly enlarged Tits still painful but her remodelled cunt now less so but unattractive with the scars still so prominent.
Stephens untied her bonds and she tried to sit up, the weight of her new DD or was it larger Breasts unbalanced her. Stephens carried her to a corner.
They brought three benches from outside then the four were tied down naked.
“Chop their Pricks off” suggested a War Veteran, The Officer smiled.
Stephens took out his rusting surgical instruments and with an oily and blunt Stanley knife he started cutting, he remembered a story about gender reassignment where someone had made a cunt from a mans penis skin and slimmed down the Penis for a Clit, he soon had the entire skin of the Penis separated from the body and he delicately manipulated it within the War Veterans Pelvic area, then a quick cut and the whole assemblage was pushed through an incision and up the unfortunates Anus.
Stephens struggled to stitch up before the wound became saturated with shit leaking from the ruptured back passage and as the flies came and went he not so neatly stitched the gaping hole closed.
He was tiring, he needed a rest, something touched his shoulder, he turned, The Woman, “If you find me a Bra I’ll sew up the rest, Sarah Mallan, formerly Staff Nurse Mallan, at your service.”
He shook her hand as he worked. “There is some Woman’s stuff in a holdall through there” he pointed.
She went as directed supporting her breasts in her hands, “Some filthy bastard has wanked all over….” she stopped seeing his embarrassed grin.
She found a maternity Bra which stretched enough to accommodate her, and felt a lot more comfortable, which lasted about twenty seconds as she found the effect she had on Stephens, the bulge in his pants unmistakeable. “I suppose you want to road test your handiwork,” she teased pointing downwards, the spreading wet patch on Stephens trousers gave mute testimony to her effect on him, she returned to the clothing and taking a pair of small child’s Panties with a few deft cuts and some new elastic covered the scars of her pubes to give a possibly even more obscene look.
The screams of the Victims had aroused great curiosity but it was not until late that
Stephens finished.
The Officer came, “Excellent, now give them Tits,”
Stephens spoke quietly “I don’t think I have any more silicon”
The Officer smiled “Then use these again” he pointed to Sarah.
She was annoyed “No you’re not having my …” even she was shocked
she was supposed to be humiliated not pleased.
The Officer stroked her left nipple. it responded instantly, “Such beautiful breasts.
I shall enjoy them, find something else Mr Stephenson.
There were some shapeless blobs of soft plastic around so Stephens and Ms Mallan set to work shaping then into Madonna shaped cones ready for implantation, and by the end of the third day our warriors were transformed, Ms Mallam used her dainty surgical stitching to remodel a set of curtains into lovely little dresses and dressed the Warriors appropriately.
Stephens watched anxiously as they healed, one went septic so they fed him to the crocodiles, which livened up the afternoon a bit, in fact it was a bit tragic in that Morgan Botsuma was larking about on the jetty when he fell into the pond and was seized by two crocs who tore him in two, he was screaming for help with both legs bitten off, and it took five shots to the head to shut him up, “A remarkably thick skull,” the Officer commented.
“And where are our three little maids? The Officer commented and the name stuck
“Maids” they were now to be called. The Maids wandered around the camp, hands tied behind their backs, their wounds had healed but their frustration built like a pressure cooker until one of them found an old bicycle pump and sank down to force it up his arse and stimulate the itch that needed scratching, his imbedded penis swelled and soon there was a crowd watching the Maid cavorting as he tried to wank himself off using a bicycle pump up his arse, the crowd laughed and shouted, it was so funny, and the Maid was so caught up in things that he could not stop.
The other two tried it in the calm of night and they then fought over the pump till they broke it. They took to begging passers by to fuck their arses, some Traders from the North, obliged but Fuckpig was always available and her cunt much preferred to their arses.
The Maids decided to kill Fuckpig, she suspected their ploy and built a mound in her kennel, burying two grenades and removing the pins, so if disturbed it would blow up and she spent her nights with the Dogs, Soon enough it blew up, two Maids made a nice meal for the crocs, the third, blinded and deafened was sent back to his homeland and Fuckpig’s place in society was secure again.
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