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I love carnival season, Rob thought.
In his lap squirms a petite 19 year old girl as she slowly runs out of oxygen, her soft coconut scented, short brown hair tickles his nose as her head swings side to side, fighting instinctively against the garrote around her neck. The wire digs into her skin, crushing her throat and drawing trickles of blood. Her throes mash her pert ass cheeks against his groin as her asshole convulses wildly around him, mirroring the mindless struggles of her body. Drool runs down her chin and arousal gushes from her snatch in a final, mind shredding orgasm as the light on her eyes goes out.
Across the table, watching intently as they grope each other are the girl's parents. They'd brought their daughter to the carnival to fulfill her birthday wish: to get snuffed.
With a harsh grunt and a buck of his hips making her small body bounce in his lap, he blows his load in the dead birthday girl's ass. Her head lolls to the side as he pumps the dead slab of meat full of his seed, groaning for the parents' benefit so they can take pride in raising such a useful hole. His Kill Booth request now complete, he lets the meat fall off the side of his lap and thump to the floor, cum leaking in a rush from its gaping asshole. Not wanting to waste his time, the happy parents slide from the booth, thanking him profusely as they go.
It was carnival season once again and for the entire month thousands upon thousands were participating in a corpse littered blowout under the summer sun. Rob was running a Kill Booth, where women could come and order a death to their own liking, instead of rolling the dice on a stranger's kindness when the time came. Normally he would have been unable to take a seasonal job like this one, but the pizza place he worked at was desperate to rent a stall on the fairgrounds, and permission to do so had been contingent on easing the shortage of men in the fairground's staff. Rob had been volunteered without his knowledge, but it is without a doubt the best thing that's ever happened to him.
He takes a few more customers, mainly stranglings and throat slittings requested by 30 somethings nearing the hump along with one lonely, strangely desperate sorority girl who requests a forced buttchugging and dismemberment. After the mess is cleaned up from that last one, a waitress informs him he's been requested by name and he wanders out from the break room to meet them.
"Cuzz!" A girl cries as he comes down the aisle to his newly cleaned booth. Four girls are there waiting, three on one side and one alone on the other. In the middle of the three is his cousin Natasha, wearing a reverse leotard for her carnival outfit. Her arms and legs are clad in blood red latex sleeves and socks that extend all the way to her torso, making his mouth drool at the contrast of the sleeves against her pale body and coal-black hair. Teasing him as his speechless stare drags on too long, Natasha bats her long eyelashes at him. Those blue almond shaped eyes read everything that's happening in his head, her gaze regal and snuffable as ever, courtesy of her Russian father.
"Hey slut," he greets, teasing her roughly to combat her overpowering gaze, "You here to let me genocide your friends?"
"Just one friend actually," she grins, glancing at the lone girl across the table. The two flanking Natasha giggle nervously but Rob pays them no mind. His cousin had new friends every time he saw her, except for one she'd had since childhood.
"Angela? I'm snuffing you?" he asks, bending close to the blushing girl he hadn't seen in years.
"H-hi Rob," Angela smiles nervously. Her long brunette hair sweeps down in front of her face and she pushes it back behind her ear. Natasha had introduced them repeatedly over the years but he'd never had a reason to speak to her before now.
"I see you're as thin as ever," he compliments, "Can't wait to break you like a twig." His voice turns harsh as he slides into the booth beside her and hangs an arm around her back.
The stick thin brunette wears her own specially chosen carnival outfit, a silver glittering micro bikini that barely conceals the nipples of her A cup chest and definitely doesn't conceal the trimmed bush flowering out from behind the meagre crotch piece.
"Neither can I," she murmurs abashedly as the waitress arrives delivering their drinks. Angela gets a knife.
"Throat slitting?" Rob asks but he can't keep the disappointment out of his tone. If he hadn't already slit eight throats that morning maybe he would've been a little more eager.
"No… disembowelment, it's a little messy," she finishes apologetically.
When all he lights up in delight and smiles encouragingly, the tension eases in her shoulders and she slides up against him, pressing her warm, nearly naked body against him. Their faces draw close and he can smell Carnival Chili on her breath.
"How do you wanna start?" he asks softly.
"Like this," she replies, climbing into his lap. His hard cock pushes against his belly as the crotch piece of her micro bikini settles against his base. She reaches behind her back to undo her top but Rob stops her.
"Leave them on," he commands.
Angela pauses obediently with a smile and hooks a finger under her crotchpiece, slipping it to the side of her mound. They both gasp as her wet lips squish against him.
She lifts herself up, placing an excited, sweaty palm on his shoulder as she moves his cock towards her entrance. Her wet tightness engulfs him as she sinks back down into his lap, velvet tunnel stretching and sliding down his head, lodging him deep inside. The thin waif's lack of padding lets him get much deeper than he could with thick girls like his cousin, and her pelvis digs against his thighs, making the warmth of her hole all the more comforting.
"You're an angel," he moans, as her cunt spasms and pulls her cervix down against his head, trying to force him into her womb.
Her eyes crinkle in jubilation and she kisses him roughly. Throbbing inside her tight hole, he grabs her small ass and pulls it back and forth on his lap. His actions cause her long hair to fall from behind her ears and hang down around their faces, encapsulating them in their own private world where the only things that exist are the sounds of each other's panting and the divine pleasure coursing through their bodies. She presses her chest to his, nipples stiff through her top as her tummy pushes against his abs with every breath.
"Haaaa," Angela moans, thighs tensing up in a breathless orgasm as she lays her forehead against Rob's. She grinds her hips while her hole spasms around him, and suddenly his head pops past her cervix and into her womb. It's like his cock head has been pushed into space, the stimulation utterly foreign from the rest of her tunnel. The gate of her cervix grips him snugly, and each further spasm pulls the ring down his length before sliding back up to the lip of his glans.
Rob can barely breathe, cross-eyed in his ecstasy. She laughs at his silly face and he smiles back at her from a thousand miles away.
"I'm ready," she whispers, unable to keep the excited smile off her face.
Without a word he grabs the knife from the tabletop behind her and drags the point along her skin down towards her pelvis. She whimpers as he digs the point into the bottom of her tummy, just above her pubes. As thin as she is, her skin still has a cute roll along the top of her pelvic bone, begging to be sliced.
Rob grabs her by the neck, pushing until the small of her back is against the booth table's edge. She winces with every nervous pant as her belly pushes against the knife point, drawing blood.
He lets her marinate in her tension, measuring it based on the tightness of her hole. Tighter, tighter, then, the moment she relaxes he stabs her, sinking the blade into her skin and impaling her womb. With half the blade still exposed, he lets her spasms of pain milk him until her screams quiet down.
Bracing his grip on her neck he saws upwards through her belly button, making her hips buck violently in his lap. Angela emits a strained groan and claps her hands below the blade, trying to keep her guts from oozing out. Continuing to saw without rest, her cries grow higher the further he cuts, forcing her into ecstasy as he splits her tummy open. He cuts all the way to her sternum, and in response to the grinding vibrations of steel hitting the cartilage Angela cums the hardest she ever has in her life.
Overwhelmed, coils of intestine slip through her fingers as Rob rides the edge, throbbing rhythmically inside her and inching towards climax. Tossing the knife away he seizes both of Angela's wrists to pull her hands away from her belly. The flaps of her wound sag open from the pressure of her guts and Rob kisses her passionately as they let her hot innards slip between their bodies.
As he bursts inside his cousin's long time friend, he bucks his hips into her from below, bouncing her light body in his lap and causing a bloody avalanche. Moving his hands to her hips he pulls her firmly down against his lap and lets her dying spasms suck him dry. Her heavenly snatch coaxes more cum from his balls than ever before in his life and his seed pumps up through her sliced womb and bloody coils, bubbling upwards through the labyrinthe until white beads appear among the blood.
Angela sees none of this however. She rests her chin on his shoulder, too weak to move, and nuzzles against his neck as she patiently awaits her death. Bathing in post-coital bliss Rob strokes her spine and smooths her hair as she mewls quietly.
Her death is signified by a slow-building shudder through her body and a last rattling gasp into his ear. The corpse that had been Angela falls limp in his arms and he maneuvers her to the side, laying her peacefully on the booth seat.
"Come on," Rob waves at Natasha and she hops out of the booth and takes his arm as he leads her out onto the fairgrounds, leaving her friends - both living and dead - behind.
Rob wraps his arm around her as they walk and greedily kneads her pale pawg ass. He can't stop himself from glancing down her back to watch it jiggle with every step.
"You can't get enough of that thing can you?" Natasha teases, referring to her own ass like an inanimate toy.
"Uh uh," he answers, grinning as he continues to stare at her rear.
His cousin increases the sway of her hips, exaggerating her swagger to a caricature, taking big steps and stomping down, letting her cheeks jiggle to a stop before repeating the process with her other foot.
"You're such a dork," he laughs, hugging her against his side as they meander through the stalls.
The main plaza is milling with people drawn towards the giant cookpot in the centre. It's filled with Carnival Chili, a staple of summer. At the carnival's opening ceremony the cook fire is lit and twenty specially selected women step into the broth one by one. The first to enter are always quickly forced to the bottom, drowning before the broth can boil and only the last few are lucky enough to experience the roiling boil after hours of marination. From that point on, the fire never goes out. If the chili runs low, girls are selected at random from the crowd, and they watch one such girl, mid-twenties with a tanned body looking like she'd been walking the carnival grounds buck naked for an entire week, clamber up the ladder and roll over the side. Her lewd screams as her skin scalds gets Rob hard, and he moves on quickly with Natasha in search of a good stall to ease the pressure.
Fuckstop, Bird Spearing, Shooting Range, Melon Smashing… Make Your Own Sex Toy. The decision is made the moment he sees the sign and he idles a little slower as they get near.
"Aren't you hot in that latex?" he asks, peeling Natasha's sticky latex arm off his back.
"A little, but it helps that it's only my limbs," she replies.
"I've got an idea to make it easier." He can't keep the naughty smile off his face, and even if he could, his hard, throbbing cock still gives him away.
"You're going to snuff me aren't you?" Natasha accuses, snagging his cock head in her latex palm.
"How did you guess?" Rob cries in mock surprise as his eyes roll at her pleasurable touch, then, shamelessly, he turns to face the Make Your Own Sex Toy stall. "Oh, how about that?"
"You planned this!"
"Did not! It's your ass's fault, it has no right looking that good!"
She gets wet as her cousin reduces her to nothing more than an ass with a girl attached. Biting her lip as she hems and haws, it doesn't take long to come to her life ending decision. Angela wasn't the only one who had been nursing long time fantasies about Rob.
"Fiiine," she relents all too easily, and lets him drag her towards the stall.
Rob pays the conversion fee and the carnie clasps amputation collars around both of her thighs. No safety spiel or consent confirmation is given or required. While she was alive she was nothing more than a hole in the eyes of the law, and once dead, nothing but meat. She's understood it for a long time in theory, but as she confronts the stark reality of her situation head on an unbearable heat grows in her belly.
The carnie leads them to the Waste-Cutter, an oversized guillotine designed to slice girls in half across the hips. Natasha smirks at the tasteless name, clearly chosen by someone just like Rob, who viewed everything above the waist as, well, waste.
Rob places a firm but gentle hand on her back, making her walk the final steps doubled over to get her upper body through the oversized lunette. It's an outdated piece of machinery, built out of wood instead of the gleaming metal used for modern appliances, and splinters dig into her waist along the top of her hips as she settles in.
The view from behind is enough to drive any man wild. Her disembodied bubble butt sprouts from the opening of the wooden lunette, smooth and white like china, almost glossy in its purity. The amputation rings pinch her thick thighs making indents in her plush skin. On top of that, glistening arousal strings between her legs as she eagerly awaits her conversion.
Without nearly the same amount of love and care he'd shown to Angela, Rob rams his cock into his cousin's folds, drawing out a needy, heaving moan. Since this is purely for his own enjoyment, and not a request someone's paid for at the Kill Booth, he sets a rapid pace. It would be a waste of effort to show sympathy to an onahole.
His palm cracks against her ass as he spanks her, and Natasha squeezes her thighs together from the surge of pleasure. Honey drips from her snatch in a constant flow. It would only take one more spank to make her cum, but:
"Don't ruin my perfect ass!" Natasha yells back at him over her shoulder, nightmare visions flashing before her eyes of her bruised and ruined rear discarded in the trash.
Rob rolls his eyes, not bothering to respond, and smacks her ass even harder, leaving behind a red hand print.
"AaAAaaaah!" his cousin squeals in orgasm, squirting around his cock.
Kathunk!
Lost in throes of ecstasy she doesn't notice she's falling until she hits the ground. The thudding contact knocks the wind from her lungs and she twitches face down as her intestines seep out the bottom of her severed torso.
The amputation rings activate at the same moment Rob drops the blade and her legs flop to the ground soon after her torso, leaving only Natasha's ass, hips, and two wonderfully fuckable holes behind.
His head swims in pleasure and he groans in relief as his cousin is stripped of all unnecessary parts, emptying his balls into the dead, dripping hole.
Once he's finished, he peeks around the Waste-Cutter to see what used to be his cousin Natasha sprawls atop of three other pieces of meat in a wheelbarrow. It's not surprising how little the sight makes him feel. Since she turned 18 a few years ago, he'd seen her as nothing but an ass to be used, and now, the satisfaction of claiming that ass for himself exceeds any fleeting comfort she could have offered him while alive. Revelling in his decision, he leaves the raw onahole with the carnie and gives instructions for delivery to his booth before heading back to work.
I love carnival season, Rob thought.