School Day (Story)
WARNING!!!!! THIS STORY CONTAINS GRAPHIC SNUFF. IT IS VIOLENT AND BLOODY. IT ALSO CONTAINS SOME CANNIBALISM. THE VICTIMS ARE MOST DEFINITELY NOT WILLING PARTICIPANTS. IF THIS IS NOT YOUR KIND OF STORY TURN BACK NOW. IF IT IS SOMETHING YOU MIGHT LIKE, READ ON.
REMEMBER THOUGH, THIS IS FANTASY. IF YOU HAVE DIFFICULTY SEPARATING THE REAL WORLD AND FANTASY, AND BELIEVE THAT DOING THIS TO SOMEONE MIGHT BE OKAY, PLEASE GET YOUR HEAD EXAMINED. I RECOMMEND HAVING SOMEONE DO IT WITH A HACKSAW.
THANKS AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS.
School Day by Azalel
The Letter
Louise Atkinson sat at the table looking at the piece of paper in disbelief. This could not be happening. They knew it had been possible, but they thought that it was extremely unlikely. Miranda had always been an honors student. How was it possible that the child could get such poor grades?
Thinking back on the school board meeting last June, Louise shuddered. It had been brought up that the school board should do more to encourage children to improve their grades. In accordance with the new national education laws, the school board agreed that drastic measures were needed.
By 2073, America’s unemployment rate had risen to 22%. While the jobs were there, the available workforce was not. Companies across America had to search for employees in foreign countries. The problem was that many Americans were not prepared for the work needed.
Illiteracy was at an all-time high. People graduating from high school had minimal reading and mathematical skills. College population was at an all-time low as few people could not pass the entrance exams.
Looking abroad, the Department of Education (DoE) decided that the American education model needed to be completely broken down and rebuilt. Looking at successful nations, the DoE chose to follow the model used in Japan. It was decided that, by 2076, all states in America would follow this new model.
Under the new model, mandatory education ended in the ninth grade (which was now included in middle schools). High school was available for those who wanted to go, but they were run as private businesses. Students had to apply to the desired high school and be accepted. Tuition would then be paid by the parents if the student did not qualify for a scholarship. By shifting the costs associated with high schools to the private sector, the states could spend more on the lower levels of education.
Attendance policies were also altered. Children were required to go to school six days each week. The school days were extended from six hours to eight hours. Corporal punishment was reinstated in the school systems.
Instead of three months off for summer, school would be let out from June 15<span class="ord">th</span> to August 15<span class="ord">th</span>. The students would only get three days off for Christmas (the day before, the holiday, and the day after). If the holiday fell on a Sunday, then the students only got two days off (Saturday and Monday). The same rule applied to New Year’s Day and Thanksgiving. No other holidays were taken by the schools.
It was felt that these changes would cause the education system to be more effective. Twenty years later, it appeared to by correct. The literacy rate had improved dramatically. Unemployment had dropped from 22% to 12%. Things were not good, but they were getting better.
Another problem facing America (and the world, really) was food shortages. In 2079, there had been a plague that had swept the globe killing humans and animals alike. Medical technology saved most humans, but the world’s animal population had been decimated. Animal wildlife had suffered a staggering 75% reduction due to the plague.
Riots had broken out around the America as the populace realized that they had all but become vegetarians practically overnight. The senators and representatives went back to their respective states and, speaking with their constituents, tried to come up with alternative ways to deal with the meat shortage. The proposed answer was surprising; and not only because it was supported by almost every state.
The answer proposed by the public was cannibalism. It would be regulated, but it appeared to be the best course of action. Actually, it solved two problems at once. The meat would come from prison inmates. This would reduce the over-crowding of the prisons and feed the populace at the same time.
The idea was brought before congress. After an amazingly short debate on the issue, it was almost unanimously accepted. There were, however, a few conditions.
The inmate had to be healthy. Prison was well known as problem area where drugs were concerned. The drugs themselves were not a problem. Prior to being sent to a meat processing facility, the inmate would be held in solitary confinement for two weeks to get any drugs out of his or her system.
The problem was the illnesses associated with shared drug paraphenalia. Anyone diagnosed with <span class="caps">AIDS</span> or any other such illness was sent to the grinder while still alive. The remains were then incinerated to prevent the spread of the disease.
Another problem was selection of the inmates to be processed. At first, only those with a term of more than ten years were selected. To be exact, everyone with a term of more than ten years was automatically sent to isolation and then on to the procesing plant.
After those inmates were removed from the system, a lottery was implemented by the federal government. At every prison, a lottery would be drawn every month. Ten prisoners, chosen by the lottery would be processed.
The benefit of this system was that any and every crime that warranted prison time could earn the perpetrator a death sentence. Within 2 years, the national crime rate had dropped by 50%. This seemed to be a good deterrent.
One problem with this system was the selection pool. Less prisoners meant that there would be less meat. Again, the legislators went back to their constituents to find a solution. The solution this time, was less popular.
The people wanted to be able to volunteer to be processed. Suicide still occurred and there were people who felt that they would rather become food than get any older. Many people with hereditary health issues in their family wanted to die before those illnesses caught up with them.
The discussion went before congress and, after a heavy debate, was passed with a 66% approval rate. The president, looking at running for a second term, decided to approve rather than veto the bill. The law was passed and volunteers were allowed to be processed for food.
The next battle to arise dealing with this was the manner of processing. At first, only federally licensed processing plants were able to process meat. With the growing number of volunteers, it became evident that federal facilities were inadequate. The public wanted to be able to process and cook their own meat. For example, a volunteer who neared the day of their death may want their family to process and eat them rather than be shipped to faceless and nameless strangers.
The case of Mrs. Mitchell caught national attention when she processed her husband and fed him to their neighborhood during a picnic. Mr. Mitchell had had four heart attacks and had signed the volunteer agreement, but had not wanted to go to the processing plant. He wanted his friends and family to enjoy his meat.
Mrs. Mitchell had been arrested for murder but, after riots broke out across the nation, she was released and the charges were dropped. Congress, in a hasty session, debated the issue and agreed upon letting private citizens process human meat. This was only the beginning, though.
Biological testing, almost completely dead since the plague was being argued in the courts. If humans could volunteer to become food, could they volunteer to become test subjects? What if the volunteer died as a result of the test? It was ultimately decided that, once a person volunteers, they cease to be “human” and, as such, may be disposed of in any way desired by the person to whom they volunteer themselves.
Entertainment companies jumped on that immediately. Several companies started designing games with lethal consequences to the loser. As long as all players were volunteers, there was no legal infraction if they died while playing. Congress reluctantly allowed for this use of volunteers, but insisted that the volunteers be made aware of the lethal aspect of the game prior to their volunteering and that their volunteer status be negated upon the completion of the game.
After a few years and several more battles on the floor of the senate, it was determined to broaden the scope of volunteers. As long as it was agreed upon in the employment contract, employers could volunteer their employees for food. Parents could volunteer their minor children as well as themselves.
Now, in 2107, Americans have developed a taste for human meat. The entertainment industry has been revolutionized. Volunteers are under new rules. If someone is volunteered (by a parent, employer, or state facility), they have no rights. If they volunteer themselves, then once their chosen activity (cooking, game, or experiment) is completed, they may walk away, if physically able, and regain their freedom.
High schools have been given the right to use the student body as subjects in laboratories, or as meat depending on the agreements with the individual’s parents. Many schools have opted to use this method as a way to encourage the student body to improve grades. A typical method used is described below.
At the end of each quarter, the student in the class with the lowest combined average (all courses) is used by the school as either meat, entertainment, or educational material (i.e. sex education display). Two students are chosen; the male and female students with the lowest grades. Only students that score lower than a “B” are chosen. If no students score below a “B”, then no student is chosen.
If only one student is chosen (boy or girl), then the parent of the opposite sex will fill in for the missing student. For example, if only one girl scores lower than a “B”, then her father will be used to substitute for the boy. This encourages parents to be more proactive in their child’s education.
To accommodate larger classes (25 or more students), up to four students per class (two male and two female) could be volunteered by the school. The same rules involving parents applied in this case as well.
These thoughts passed through Louise’s mind as she waited for her husband to get home. Miranda had always been an “A” student. There had never been any concerns over her grades. What could have happened?
Louise started as she heard her husband pull into the driveway. All questions were moot at this point. She did not know how she was going to explain this to her husband. It would probably be best to just let him read the letter himself. The one thing they could not do was talk to Miranda about it.
The school did not want the student’s to know about their situation until the day of selection. They only notified the parents in order to ensure that both parents would be present during the selection. The parents were not notified if other students would also be selected so they never knew if they would be chosen to join their child.
Brian Atkinson was a happy man. He had everything a man could want. As the Chief Financial Officer for Teledyne Communications, he had an excellent job with extraordinary benefits. He had a beautiful wife and a loving daughter. They all lived in a beautiful home in one of the nicest suburbs. He felt like he was on top of the world. Sadly, he was in for one hell of a surprise.
Brian walked into the kitchen and stopped cold at the vision of his wife in tears. It was very rare for her to frown, let alone cry. He didn’t know the problem was, but it had to be serious.
“Louise,” he asked cautiously, “what’s wrong, honey?”
Louise tried to answer, but found she had no voice. She would have to let him read the letter for his answer. Pushing the letter at him, she covered her face with her free hand and her sobs continued.
Brian was not happy. Whoever hurt her was going to pay. He snatched up the letter and started to read. By the fourth line of the letter, his knees went weak and he found himself falling into his chair.
“How,” he asked quietly? “How could this happen? There has to be a mistake. She has always been at the top of her class. Did she ever say anything to you about this?”
Louise shook her head. There was never any indication that anything was wrong. Now, they were doomed to risk their daughter during the selection on Tuesday. And the most damnable thing about it was that Miranda missed making a “B” by only 2 points. An 80 would have been a “B”. She ended with a 78 average.
“No,” Louise replied. “She never said a thing.”
“And,” Brian said, “we cannot ask her. According to this, we cannot say or do anything that might tip her off that she might be selected on Tuesday. They do not want her running away.”
“Not only that, Brian. If there aren’t enough students who got C’s or worse, you and I may also be selected.”
Brian paled as he recalled that particular fact. The thought of them grabbing Miranda and running for it passed fleetingly through his mind. Then he remembered that those who ran from their selection were immediately considered criminals. Every law enforcement agency would be looking for them.
With the new global community, it did not matter where they went. There were no non-extradition countries. If they were found, they would be returned to this country and delivered to the school to be used for whatever the school decided. If that were to happen, his will would be nullified and everything they owned would be given to the school to cover the cost of reclaiming the runaways.
No, he decided. They would just have to go on Tuesday and hope for the best.
“When we had that vote at the school board last year,” he said to his wife, “I thought she would benefit from seeing someone used as an example. I would have never thought she could be used as an example, herself.”
“What are we going to do, Brian?”
“We are going to do as instructed, Louise, and hope for the best. Hopefully there will be other girls that failed to get a “B” average. I would hate to lose Miranda, but I would really hate to lose both of you.”
“Don’t forget, dear. You are also at risk. If there are not enough boys for the selection, you may have to fill in.”
“I know,” Brian sighed. “I know it is wrong to wish it on a kid, but I do not want to die that way.”
“Then all we can do is wait and see,” Louise said dejectedly.
“Yes, dear,” Brian agreed. “We will have to wait and see.”
As much as Brian and Louise wanted to keep Miranda home for the weekend in order to maximise their time with her prior to the selection, they could not. Miranda had been spending weekends at her friend’s homes since she was six years old. When they could come up with no realistic reason for keeping her home (at least one they could tell her), they gave up and let her go.
Louise cried all Friday night. Brian had to go to the office and talk with his superiors. If he were selected, it would be troublesome for his company. He went to let them know what was happening.
His bosses were understanding and even sympathetic. Brian promised that, should he be selected, they would hear about it immediately so they could get his replacement up to speed as soon as possible. His supervisor waved the promise aside and said that they would deal with that later. They were certain that Brian would be fine and back at work on Wednesday.
The rest of the weekend passed quickly; too quickly. Miranda came home on Sunday night, leaving only enough time for a hasty dinner and a shower before heading off to bed. The 16-year-old was oblivious to her parents disappointment.
Monday
On Monday morning, Miranda finished her breakfast, gave her parents the usual peck on the cheek and darted out the door on her way to school. Brian looked at his wife for a moment and then rose from the table to put his dishes in the dishwasher. It looked like Louise had something she wanted to say, but couldn’t. Brian could commiserate. If he knew how to verbalize the thoughts running through his head…….well, it was probably just as well that he could not.
He put his dishes in the dishwasher, gave his wife a passionate kiss, and left for work. He did not envy her. She would be alone in the empty house with nothing but her thoughts to keep her company.
Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on your point of view), the day passed quickly. Dinner that night was a quiet affair. Miranda, uncomfortable with the unusually quiet atmosphere, took it upon herself to start the conversation.
“Oh, mom,” she began, “I forgot to tell you. The teacher said we were having a surprise activity tomorrow and we should all were old clothes; stuff we wouldn’t mind getting torn or really dirty.”
Louise couldn’t help it. She started to cry again. Miranda was shocked. She had never seen her mother cry. Normally, the 32-year-old woman was so upbeat that nothing got to her.
“Mom,” Miranda said. “Are you okay?”
“It’s okay, dear,” Bryan said to his daughter. “She has just had a really hard day. I think she needs to lie down. I am going to get her into bed.”
“Uh, ok, dad. I will just go do my homework.”
Brian almost told her to not bother, but, to Miranda, that would be almost as bad as her mother crying. Then, she would know something was wrong. Carrying his wife up to their bedroom, Brian left his daughter to her homework.
It took almost three hours for Louise to calm down. By then, she was so wrung out that she fell asleep. Brian, feeling the need to get drunk, headed down to the kitchen. As he passed his daughter’s bedroom door, he could hear her snoring inside.
Looking at his watch, he realized it was almost midnight. Realizing that the morning was going to come too soon, he decided to forget about getting drunk and went back to his bedroom. Lying down beside his sleeping wife, he doubted that he would be able to sleep. The events of the last few days, however, had taken a toll on him and he was exhausted. Despite his doubts, he, too, was soon asleep.
Tuesday
Brian awoke to the sound of the phone. Cracking open one tear-encrusted eye (he was crying in his sleep?), he looked at the clock and saw it was 6:45am. He sat up and picked up the phone.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Mr. Atkinson. This is Susan Therriault, Miranda’s teacher. I believe you received our letter concerning her grades last week.”
“Yes,” Brian replied.
“Well,” Miss Therriault continued, “we will be having the selection at 8:15 this morning. That is the beginning of first period. We would like you and your wife to be here by then.”
“I understand,” Brian replied. “We will be there. One thing, though. Can you tell me how many students will be involved in the selection?”
“I am sorry, Mr. Atkinson, but that information cannot be given out until the selection.”
“Okay,” Brian said. “We will see you around 8:00.”
“Goodbye, Mr. Atkinson.”
“Goodbye,” Brian answered as he hung up the phone.
Brian looked over at his still-sleeping wife and gently woke her.
“C’mon, dear,” he whispered. “It’s time to get up.”
He was not surprised to see that she had been crying in her sleep as well. It looked like neither of them had a restful night.
Louise looked up at her husband and seeing the same sadness in his eyes, she began to cry yet again.
“It’s today,” she whispered, “isn’t it?”
“Yes,” he answered sadly. “Her teacher just called. They need us there by 8:15. It is almost 7:00. We need to get moving.”
As they walked to the kitchen, they were surprised to see Miranda’s bedroom door was open and her bed was already made. They continued to the kitchen and saw a note on the table.
“Sorry I missed you, mom and dad,” the note said, “but Anne needed some help with her homework before first period. I went over to help her. We will walk to school from her house. I will see you when I get home.”
Brian and Louise showered, ate a light breakfast (a piece of toast and a small glass of orange juice), and went to the school.
The Selection
Miranda sat in her seat looking over her homework. She was dressed in old jeans and an old sweatshirt of her father’s. She hadn’t asked him if she could use it and hoped it wouldn’t get too dirty or he might get mad.
All the other students were dressed in a similar manner. Miranda was excited and curious about the activity. The teacher was very elusive when it came to questions.
At exactly, 8:15, as the bell was ringing, Miss Therriault walked in, followed by Miranda’s parents. Miranda was surprised by the look on their faces. They were almost terrified.
“Okay, class,” Miss Therriault said. “Yesterday, I mentioned a special activity. The activity is called ‘Selection’. Last year, the school board, with the Department of Education’s permission, agreed that stricter measures were needed in motivating you to do well in school.”
“It was decided,” she continued, “that we would use members of the student body to motivate you. Poor grades would be punished. Now you already know that corporal punishment is allowed here, but we are talking about something more severe. The school determined that poor grades would begin with a ‘C’. Anyone with a ‘C’ average at the end of a quarter is put into a type of lottery. In a class of our size, two boys and two girls would be selected.”
“What kind of punishment are you talking about,” one student asked.
“I will get to that, John. Be patient. If there are not enough ‘C’ students, then the parents of the ‘C’ students may be called as a subtitute. They will share in the punishment.”
Miranda began to understand her parent’s distress. If there were enough ‘C’ students, then no parents would need to be here. That must mean that she herself was to be punished.
“Now, in this class,” Miss Therriault continued, “we have only one student who received a ‘C’ average. Miss Atkinson. Please go stand with your parents.”
Miranda went to stand beside her parents. To her amazement, her mother was crying again. This must be bad, then.
“Due to the shortage - a good thing, remember - of poor students, Mr. Atkinson will take the place of one of the boys and Mrs. Atkinson will take the place of one of the girls.”
“What about the other boy,” one of the girls in the class asked.
“That is being taken care of. Now I want you all to follow me. Your lesson is about to begin.”
She led the class (along with Mr. and Mrs. Atkinson) to one of the biology labs. The class had been to this room several times over the last two months. Dissecting frogs, worms, and the such, they had learned about internal organs.
There was a difference today, though. The lab stations had been moved to the back of the room and two tables were in their place. Although the students could not identify the tables, Mr. and Mrs. Atkinson could. They were autopsy tables, with grooves to allow the blood to flow to holes in the table where the blood could drip to the pails placed below.
“Now I am sure you all remember dissecting frogs here,” Miss Therriault said. “The problem is that there are many differences between frogs and humans, so using them as a model is not really adequate. Mr. and Mrs. Atkinson will be our subjects today and you will see the real organs in the human body.”
At that, two men in black suits, looking more like special forces personnel rather than <span class="caps">CEO</span>’s, entered the room and held the Atkinsons as their clothing was forcefully removed, leaving the two adults naked in front of the students.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” Miss Therriault said. “If you would strap them to the tables, I would be much obliged.”
The men did as the teach asked and soon both Brian and Louise were immobilized. Miss Therriault approached the two holding two syringes.
“Now,” she whispered to Miranda’s parents, “we understand that this is not your fault so we will take measures to make this as painless as possible.”
“This,” she said, indicating the syringe, “is a government patented neural inhibitor. Although you will feel everything that is done to you, your mind will not recognize it asbeing painful. You will only feel the prick as the needle goes in and then, pain will have no more meaning for you.”
Both Brian and Louise felt the prick and shuddered as much as their bonds would allow. They were surprised as a warm feeling washed over them, starting ad the point of injection and then continuing throughout their entire bodies. They looked at Miss Therriault.
“Thank you,” Brian whispered. “Will Miranda get the same thing?”
Miss Therriault sadly shook her head.
“I am afraid not,” she answered. “For her to be an effective example, she must feel a great deal of pain before she dies. The class must hear her screams and see her torment for them to realize that they never want to be in her position.”
Brian understood although he hated it. His little girl was going to suffer a horrendous amount of pain today. He really had no idea how much.
“One more thing before we begin,” Miss Therriault announced to her class. “Because Miranda is the one being punished, she will be the one to dissect her parents.”
Miranda looked stricken. Not only were her parents going to die because of her poor grades, but she herself was going to kill them. She started trembling and fell to her knees, sobbing.
“I’m sorry, mommy. I’m sorry, daddy. I had no idea. I knew my grades were lower than normal, but I never thought, for a moment, that this could happen. I am really really sorry.”
Miss Therriault, seeing that there was no way for Miranda to continue like this, realized that they would need to calm the child down.
“Okay, class, we will have a recess now. Be back here at 9:00 for the lesson. And don’t be late or you may join the volunteers.”
The class, with the exception of Miranda, left the room. Miss Therriault went up to Miranda and put her arms around her.
“It is okay, Miranda. They knew this might happen. Like I mentioned earlier, the school board voted on it last year and your parents were at that meeting. It did not matter if they agreed with it or not. If they really disagreed with it, they could have transferred you to a different school. Now, I know they did not want to separate you from your friends and that is why they did not transfer you, but they did have that option.”
“I am puzzled, though,” Miss Therriault continued. “You knew you were having trouble in my class. Why didn’t you talk to your parents? Why didn’t you ask for help?”
“I…..I….never got below an ‘A’, before. I was afraid they would be mad. I was also embarrassed. The kids might laugh at me if I suddenly needed help in something.”
“I see,” Miss Therriault replied. “Well, you will not have to worry about that after today. Now, I have some good news for you. Your parents have been given an injection that will keep them from feeling pain. You will cut them up and they will feel themselves being cut, but there will be no pain in it.”
Miranda looked at Miss Therriault dubiously.
“I don’t believe you.”
“I do not blame you,” Miss Therriault chuckled. “Until I saw it, I would never have believe it was possible either. But look.”
Miss Therriault stripped a surgical scalpel of its protective sheath and made a light cut on Louise’s foot. To Miranda’s surprise, there was only surprise on her mother’s face; no pain. Miss Therriault quickly used a surgical sealant spray to stop the bleeding.
“Does’t that hurt, Mother,” Miranda asked.
“Surprisingly, no,” Louise answered. “I doubted your teacher when she told us about it, but now I see what she means. I could feel the skin parting, but it did not hurt at all.”
Miranda felt better. If she had to butcher her parents, at least they would not be in pain from it. She got herself under control again. Looking at Miss Therriault, she nodded sadly.
“I’m ready, I guess.”
“Just in time, too,” Miss Therriault said, looking at the clock on the wall; it was 8:59. “We will need to hurry a little. We have to be done and have them in the kitchen by 11:00. It will take four hours to cook them and preparation takes about an hour. They have to be ready for the barbecue being held today after school.”
Miranda was shocked. They were going to eat her parents. She had had human meat before, but had never actually seen it processed. The meat they’d had had only ever been choice cuts. She had never known anyone who had or would become meat. Realizing that she would likely be joining them, she just nodded weakly.
The class came back in and Miranda prepared to go to work.
Human Biology 101
When everyone was seated, Miss Therriault put on a lab coat and rubber smock that would keep her clothes from getting bloodstained. When Miranda asked about her clothing, Miss Therriault justshook her head.
“Take off everything you are wearing. The only things you may keep are your shoes. The floor may get slippery and your shoes have better traction than bare feet.”
Miranda was mortified. She had never - since she turned 7 - even been nude in front of her parents. Now, she was being told to strip naked in front of all her classmates. She was about to refuse when she rememberd her situation. Her parents were already naked. She likely would be dead before the day was over. Modesty meant nothing, now. Without another moment’s hesitation, she removed her clothes.
“We will do your father, first,” Miss Therriault said. “He does, however, deserve something for being such a good sport about all this. Give him a blowjob.”
“Huh,” Miranda asked mystified. “What do you mean?”
Brian tried to say something, but soon found a gag in his mouth.
“Take his penis,” Miss Therriault said, “and suck on it. Make him cum.”
“But, but, but that’s incest,” Miranda protested.
“Aha! That workes so well into this class,” Miss Therriault said. “Class, let me clear something up right now. Incest, by itself, is not bad. Under certain circumstances, it is perfectly fine.”
“<span class="caps">HUH</span>?”
The class was stunned.
“Answer this. Why is incest bad?”
“You could have babies with two heads,” one girl replied.
“If you really believe that,” Miss Therriault said, “then you are a moron. Listen up. Incest is dangerous because as the bloodlines, <span class="caps">DNA</span>, gets closer (meaning more similar), the possibility of passing on negative traits increases dramatically. That is it. Nothing more.”
“If, however, the man is sterile (cannot have kids) or if the woman is infertile (cannot have kids), no negative traits will be passed on as there will be no one to whom to pass them. In such cases, there is no problem with incest. Therefore, gay and lesbian incest should never be a problem.”
“Now,” she continued, “if Miranda is going to die today, can she have a child? No. Therefore, no negative traits will be passed on. Therefore, there is no problem with her giving her father a blowjob of even having sex with him.”
The logic seemed flawless. Miranda was convinced. As this was something she had always wanted to do anyway (but had been afraid of the incest taboo), she lowered her head and took her father’s penis into her mouth.
Her father was about to say something in argument, but seeing that his wife raised no objection, realised that the teacher was right. There were going to be no negative repercussions from this act. He and his wife would never have sex again. It just felt a little weird to be receiving a blowjob, however amateurish, from his daughter.
As nervous as he was, he was astounded a few minutes later as he orgasmed, sending his sperm down his daughter’s throat. She gagged a little and lifted her head. She was disgusted by the texture and taste of the fluids and it showed clearly on her face that she was displeased.
“It’s ok, Miranda,” Miss Therriault said. “It is an acquired taste. Unfortunately, you will not have time to acquire it. Now, get him hard again and climb on top of him. I think we will add a little more sex education into this class.”
Brian and Louise looked at each other. Louise nodded, showing that she understood that this was not something he could avoid. She knew he would enjoy it even though he may try not to. Their daughter was a beauty and the man’s body would react to that.
Brian sighed and closed his eyes. Miranda was playing with her father’s penis and slowly, it regained its hardness. Climbing onto the table, she straddled her father’s torso and inserted his erect penis into her pussy.
“Ooooohhh,” moaned Brian. He did not want to feel pleasure in having sex with his daughter, but he could not deny that it was, indeed, very pleasurable.
Michelle, on the other hand, was feeling intense pressure. This was her first time with a man and she knew from sex education classes that it would be very painful when her hymen broke. Deciding that faster would be better than slower, she raised her body up a bit and then slammed down, driving her father’s cock all the way home.
“Aieeeeeee,” shrieked Miranda as she felt the flesh tear.
Brian had not known that his daughter was a virgin and was shocked by the feel of his penis pushing through the 16-year-old’s hymen.
“Are you ok, dear,” he asked his daughter.
Tears of pain rolled down her face as she slowly and carefully started moving her hips up and down. She slowly worked his penis in and out of her pussy. She was moist from when she sucked her father’s penis and therefore, the was enough lubricant, but the raw flesh was still tender.
“I……I think I am. Just give me a few moments.”
Slowly, the pain began to ease and she moved more. After a few minutes, the pain was negligible, her excitement taking over. She began bouncing up and down on her father, pulling her pussy almost all the way up off of his cock, and them shoving down, driving the cock all the way in.
Brian had a decent amount of stamina and could normally hold out for a long time before cumming. These, however, were not normal circumstances. Not only was this his daughter that he was fucking, but it was the tightest pussy he had ever felt. Add in the fact that there was a class full of sixteen-year-olds (mostly girls) watching them, and he was ready to shoot off again in only three minutes.
Brian groaned loudly as his cock erupted, sending torrents of sperm into Miranda’s teenage pussy. Miranda smiled at the obvious pleasure she had given her father. She was so pleased with herself that she almost forgot what came next.
“Okay, Miranda,” Miss Therriault said, “climb down and go douche yourself over by the sink. We do not want you distracted by he feel of your father’s cum running down your leg.”
Miranda sighed and did as she was told. Getting to the sink, she saw no feminine cleanser and realized that Miss Therriault expected her to flush out her pussy with nothing more than water from the hose attached to the faucet. The hot water for the building was turned off so it would be a cold flushing.
Miranda shoved the hose into her pussy and turned on the water. She shivered as the cold water flooded her tender and sore pussy. It did not take long before she had flushed all of her father’s cum from her pussy.
When Miranda returned to her father’s table, Miss Therriault handed her a surgical scalpel. Miranda looked at it dumbly for a moment, not really believing that she would have to go through with this. Miss Therriault, seeing the hesitation, leaned over and removed the protective sheat from the blade.
“Okay, Miranda,” the teacher said, “I know you have never done this before. You have probably never seen it done, either. Try to be calm and I will walk you through this step by step.”
“Remember,” Miss Therriault whispered as she leaned in close, “they will feel no pain.”
At the teacher’s instruction, Miranda used the scalpel to make a long horizontal incision from the left side of her father’s torso to the right side. The cut was about half an inch below his ribs. Another horizontal incision was made from his left hip to his right hip.
Once these cuts were made, the teacher used a surgical sealant to stop the bleeding. They did not want the subject to die too soon. Then, a third incision, vertical this time, was made connecting the two other incisions. More sealant was used and the bloodflow ceased.
Miranda was instructed to lift the flaps made by the cuts and pull them to the sides. Hooks, previously unnoticed by Miranda, held the flaps open and Miranda could clearly see into her father’s body.
Brian had felt the incisions, but, true to the teacher’s promise, there was no pain. It felt decidedly odd, but not overly unpleasant. Then he looked down. Seeing his daughter open him up caused him to gag and almost vomit.
“Careful, Mr. Atkinson,” warned Miss Therriault. “We would not like to sedate you. Under these circumstances, you might die prematurely and cause others to suffer your fate.”
“If I die before you are done,” he inquired, “someone else will have to go through this?”
“That is correct,” the teacher confirmed.
Realizing this, Brian did his best to not watch as his daughter did her work. It would be easier to keep from vomitting that way.
Miranda was instructed to remove her father’s digestive tract (intestines, colon, bladder, and stomach). Each organ was set in a separate tray so the other students could examine them. Once his stomach was removed, Brian realized that vomitting was impossible. He might gag, but there was nothing to purge anymore.
Watching his daughter at work again, he watched as she removed his kidneys, gall bladder, and liver. After each organ was removed, the teacher was quick to use the spray to seal the cuts and stop the bleeding. Soon, all that was left was his heart and lungs.
“Okay, Miranda,” the teacher said, “we will stop there for now.”
She motioned for another student, Susan Callowell, to come up.
“Susan, I would like you to go to the home economics classroom and get that package Mrs. Green has set aside for me. Please hurry, I do not want you to miss more than absolutely necessary.”
The girl hurried off and Miss Therriault turned, again, to Miranda.
“Let’s cover him up with a sheet, for now. We will return to him in a bit.”
After doing so, Miranda washed up at the sink and was led to her mother’s table. Louise was shaking. Whether from fear, sadness, or excitement, she could not say. Miss Therriault checked the bonds before continuing with her instructions.
“As you gave your father a couple good orgasms, it would be rude to neglect your poor mother.”
“I gave him a blowjob,” Miranda protested. “What can I do for a woman?”
“You’ve never masturbated,” Miss Therriault asked, rolling her eyes.
“Well, yes…..”
“Then do that for your mother. Lick her clitoris. Shove your fingers in her pussy. Make her cum.”
Miranda had never had sex with another girl. She had seen pictures, of course, but, being more interested in boys, had not pursued that avenue of entertainment. After looking into her mother’s eyes and seeing the approval there, Miranda lowered her face to her mother’s crotch and started licking.
“Now, turn your had so the palm is up,” Miss Therriault continued, “and slide two fingers into her pussy. Keeping your palm up, bend your fingers and stroke the front of her pussy. You should find her g-spot there.”
Miranda almost bit her mother’s clit as Louise jerked at the restraints.
“It looks like you found it,” the teacher said. “Continue like that until she comes twice.”
Miranda had to be careful. Her mother was thrashing in the bonds as waves of pleasure coursed through the older woman. Miranda came close to biting her mother as the first orgasm hit.
“Auughhhhhh,” groaned Louise, as she had the most explosive orgasm she had ever experienced. Like Brian, she was finding sex with their daughter to be extremely arousing. As th orgasm passed, she fell limp.
“That is one,” Miss Therriault said. “Do it again.”
Miranda repeated the process. It took longer to build, but her mother was soon thrashing in her bonds again. After a few minutes more, Louise let out a howl as she came harder than ever before. To everyone’s surprise, juice squirted out from her pussy, covering Miranda’s face and hair.
“And that is two,” Miss Therriault said to Miranda as she chuckled. “Now, go clean yourself up again. You cannot see what you are doing with your mother’s cum in your eyes.”
Miranda did as she was told. She was beginning to hate this sink. It seemed the water was getting colder each time she used it. She was almost surprised that icicles were not forming on the tap.
Returning to her mother’s table, she was handed another scalpel. She did not need the instructions this time, so she set to work. Miss Therriault was efficient as ever, spraying the cuts to keep Louise from bleeding to death.
The flaps were soon made and held open by the hooks. Miss Therriault stopped Miranda from going any further.
“Now with women,” the teacher said, “things are a bit different so we will need to be careful.”
Miss Therriault calmly instructed Miranda to remove the digestive tract, the stomach, kidneys, and liver. Getting a special pan, she then instructed Miranda to remove the uterus, ovaries, and vagina. These organs were put in the separate pan. Looking up, she saw that Susan had returned with a large opaque plastic tub.
“Excellent,” Miss Therriault said as she waved Susan over. “Thank you, Susan. Now can you go to the cupboard by the door and get that machine for me? Don’t worry, it is not heavy.”
Susan agreed and went to get the machine.
“Before we continue,” Miss Terriault said to the class, I would like you all to come up here and look at these organs. During last week’s test, most of you identified them correctly, but there is a world of difference between looking at a picture in a book and seeing the actual thing.”
“I also want you to look into the cavities of these two people and look at the heart and lungs. I would have liked to remove them to make them easier to see, but they are needed to keep Mr. and Mrs. Atkinson alive a little longer. I am sure you understand.”
The class chuckled nervously. This was one hell of an experience. They couldn’t wait to tell their friends.
As the teenagers looked at the organs, Miss Therriault encouraged them to lightly touch Mr. and Mrs. Atkinson’s hearts and lungs. The students were forced to wear sterilized gloves, but they could still feel the movement through the thin rubber material.
“That is wild,” a girl named Elizabeth said after feeling Louise’s heartbeat. “I could really feel her heartbeat.”
Louise and Brian were not sure how to feel about this. While there was no pain, it still felt very odd to have someone feeling their internal organs. And then there was the fact that not everyone was careful. One girl used too much pressure when feeling Louise’s heart and Louise found it very difficult to breathe.
It was soon over and the teacher was ready to continue. Susan had brought the machine over before inspecting Brian’s heart and lungs. Miranda was crying softly, ashamed that she had caused her parents to become nothing more than a biology exhibit. Miss Therriault uncovered the machine revealing a hand grinder.
“Okay, Miranda,” the teacher said, “bring that bowl with your mother’s uterus over here.”
Miranda did as she was told.
“Now, you will notice that I have placed another bowl under the spout. What I want you to do is feed your mother’s organs in through the top and crank that handle. The organs will be ground up and then will be ejected here, where they will fall into this other bowl.”
Miranda, crying still, again did as she was told. She ground up her mother’s vagina, uterus, and ovaries. Miss Therriault retrieved both livers and handed them to Miranda.
“These, too,” she said.
Miranda fed the livers into the machine and they too were added to the bowl. Miss Therriault took the bowl and walked over to the tub Susan had brought. Taking off the lid, she dumped the bowl’s contents into the tub.
“This is bread stuffing,” she announced to the class. “As no meat was used in making it, I have added the meat. Susan, could I trouble you again? I need you to stir this for about five minutes. It needs to be thoroughly mixed.”
The five minutes passed quickly and the stuffing was satisfactorily mixed. Miss Therriault carried the tub over to Brian’s table and Miranda, suspecting what was next, followed.
“Miranda,” the teacher said, “I want you to fit as much of this as you can in your father’s abdomen. Try not to push too much into his chest as that could interfere with his heart or lungs. When you are done, we will sew him back up.”
Miranda picked up handful after handful, filling up her father. Brian talked to her as she worked.
“It’s okay, dear,” he said. “I will let you know if it gets too uncomfortable or if I start to have difficulty breathing. Just do as she tells you.”
Miranda cried, but continued. Soon she was finished. Looking at Miss Therriault, she saw the teacher had a long, curved needle and what looked like baking twine.
“Excellent job, Miranda,” Miss Therriault said. “Now, let’s close those flaps and sew him up.”
That job was easier than expected. With the flaps closed, Miranda could no longer see what she had done to her father. She knew what she had done, but at least she didn’t have to look at it anymore. She soon finished and was led to her mother’s table.
“Okay,” the teacher said, “again, this is different. To keep the stuffing from escaping, we have to sew your mother’s pussy hole shut before we stuff her.”
Miranda sewed up the hole and, when it was done, started filling her mother with the stuffing. Louise, unlike Brian, had nothing to say. She just looked at Miranda with a deeply sympathetic look on her face. She could not imagine what her daughter was feeling, but Louise knew it couldn’t be good.
The 16-year-old finished stuffing her mother and sewed up the flaps. Miss Therriault then undid the restraints and called the office to have them send two wheelchairs to the lab. Mr. and Mrs. Atkinson were in no position to walk anywhere anymore.
“Okay, class,” Miss Therriault said, “it is now 11:15. We have to have these people on to cook in about 45 minutes or they will not be done in time for the barbecue tonight. And we still have to finish with Miranda. So, now, we will all go down to the cafeteria.”
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Barbecue Preparations
Once they got to the cafeteria, the class saw that the double doors used for deliveries were both open. In the parking lot, several barbecue pits had been set up and lit. The coals looked hot and no one doubted that they were, indeed, as hot as they looked.
Upon entering, Miranda had been seized. Brian and Louise, too physically weak to do anything about it, watched in misery as their daughter was bound to a frame with her arms outstretched. The 16-year-old was truly defenseless.
Miss Therriault picked up a long carving knife, a scalpel, and the can of surgical sealant. Setting them on the table by the frame, she got a large metal pan and a small metal bowl. Placing them on the table beside the knives and sealant, she picked up her last tools; 2 syringes, a long curved needle, and some baking twine.
Taking one of the syringes, the teacher stuck it in Miranda’s neck and, depressing the plunger, injected the contents into the girl’s bloodstream. The girl shrieked in agony.
Miss Therriault placed the empty syringe in the hazardous materials box and turned to the class. “I have just injected Miranda with some very potent stimulants. They will do nothing that will alter the flavor of her meat, but they will keep her awake and aware during the next steps. They will keep her from slipping into shock from the trauma I am about to inflict on her.” Turning her back to the class, Miss Therriault began to remove her clothes. She had paid a lot of money for these clothes and she would be damned if she let carelessness ruin them. She placed her clothes in a garment bag and hung it on a hook beside the kitchen entrance. Miss Therriault was beautiful. Both the boys and the girls were fascinated by their teacher’s naked body. She easily could have been a model. The boys (and more than a few girls) knew who they would be thinking about while masturbating tonight. Picking up the scalpel, the teacher made the same cuts she had had the teenager make on her parents. The two horizontal cuts were connected by a vertical cut. All three cuts were sprayed with the sealant to stop the bleeding. Miranda was shrieking in agony. She had never felt such pain. She could not understand how her parents had been able to take it, but then she remembered the painblocker they had received. “Please,” she begged, “please give me some of the same pain stuff you gave my parents!” “Now, why would we do that,” asked Miss Therriault. “We gave it to your parents because this was not their fault. This is your fault. It was your grades that landed you and your parents in this predicament. Also, what kind of example would you be if we let you have a painless death? We want to let the students know that failure to keep good grades is a painful thing.” “But, but….” “But nothing,” the teacher interrupted. “This is the way it is. I understand you are in pain. This is probably the worst pain you have ever felt. Good. We do not want the students to misunderstand. This is something to be avoided at all costs. And when we are done, we will send the videos to the parents of your classmates. Hopefully, it will cause them to take a heightened interest in their children’s education.” “Wait a minute,” Brian said from his wheelchair. “You are filming this?” “Of course. We could not invite all the parents to the school. Most of them work and would not be able to come. The videos allow them to see the repercussions and take steps to prevent them.” “Now, please be quiet. I need to get back to work. Time is short. Oh, anyone who is worried about the level of noise should get a pair of earplugs from Miss Henderson, over there by the sink. Oh, and Susan, would you assist me again?” Susan agreed and, after inserting her earplugs, went up to Miranda and Miss Therriault. She was told to stand behind Miranda andhold the flaps open while Miss Terriault worked. “Unfortunately,” the teacher said, “this frame does not have hooks that can hold her open. Thankfully, we have Susan. She is a great help and I see a bright future for her.” Miss Therriault quickly and efficiently gutted Miranda in the same manner that Miranda had gutted her mother. The uterus, vagina, ovaries, and liver went into the steel bowl while the rest (minus the heart and lungs) went in the pan. More stuffing was mixed and used to fill Miranda. Miranda had sreamed herself hoarse. Now, all that came out were guttural howls of pain. She had never felt such pain and embarrassment as she did right now. They were not even going to let her cum one last time. The miserable girl looked up at her teacher. “Please,” she begged, her voice barely louder than a whisper, “please kill me now and end this.” “Not yet, little one,” the teacher said. “Now that you are stuffed and sewn up again, we need to spit you and put you over the coals. The only question left is who goes first.” Miss Therriault asked the class if anyone had a coin. Steven did. Retrieveing the coin, the teacher smiled. “Here is what we will do,” she told the class. “We will flip a coin. Heads, we start with the oldest. Tails, we start with the youngest. Does that sound fair?” The class agreed and the coin was flipped. It came down heads. “Ok. Brian, I believe that you are the oldest at 34, right?” Brian nodded. It was too easy to check so there was no point in lying. Miranda was left in the frame and Louise was left in her chair. Two of the cooks grabbed Brian and laid him down on his back on the largest table in the room. Miss Therriault went to the cooler and got a 12-foot spit. Brian had known this was going to happen so he did not fight it. He just said a silent thanks to the teacher for the pain blocker. “Ok, Brian,” Miss Therriault said, “You will feel a bit of pressure, but should still feel no pain.” With that said, she placed the tip of the spit at Brian’s asshole and pushed it in. The sphincter was still tight, but it posed no difficulty. Miss Therriault was experienced with spitting people and in a minute, the spit was up to Brian’s ribcage. “Brian, I need you to be very still. I am going to ease the spit between your heart and lungs. It will enter your esophagus and exit your mouth. Please tilt your head back and try not to move more than that.” Brian leaned his head back and, after a brief moment, could feel the spit moving through his chest. He then started gagging as the spit entered his throat. Suddenly, as he saw the spit appear in fron of him, he realised he could not breathe. Moving quickly, Miss Therriault moved to the head of the table, using her scalpel, she cut an opening in Brian’s throat and inserted a steel tube which was then fastened in place. Brian’s chest rose and fell again as he began to breathe through the tube. “I am sorry Brian, but I forgot to warn you about that. The spit blocks your air passageway so we have to perform a tracheotomy on you to allow you to breathe.” Now that Brian could breathe again, Miss Therriault finished pushing the spit the rest of the way through him. She picked up the stabilizing rod, a 12-inch bayonet attached to a ring that attaches to the spit, and placed it on the pole. Picking up her carving knife, she cut Brian’s cock and balls off and slid all 12 inches of the stabilizing rod into the new entrance to Brian’s body. She put the male organs in a ziploc bag and asked the cook to put that in the cooler for her for later. Nodding to two of the cooks, she indicated that Brian was ready. The cooks came and, picking up the spit, carried him out to the pits. “Number three, please,” Miss Therriault requested. The cooks agreed and a few moments later, Brian was turning in the heat that was rising from the coals below. Louise cried as she watched her husband turn over the coals. She knew, however, that she was next and tried to stop her tears. The cooks moved her to the table and placed her on her back like her husband before her. “As I keep reminding Miranda,” Miss Therriault said to Louise, “women are different. We have two holes down there. The question faced when spitting a woman is this: which hole to we put the spit through? Miranda is not going to have a choice. It will go through her asshole. You, however, do have a choice. So, Mrs. Atkinson, which hole would you prefer?” Louise thought for a moment and made her decision. “If Brian and Miranda have to have it in their assholes, then that is the hole I choose as well.” “Excellent choice,” Miss Therriault said. “That is the hole I prefer as it keeps the pussy from burning on the hot spit. Now I do not want to make the same mistake twice. When you feel the spit touching your esophagus, take a deep breath. Once the spit blocks your air passageway, I will have about a minute to perform your tracheotomy.” Louise nodded and Miss Therriault went to get the spit from the cooler. When she returned, she placed the point of the spit at Louise’s asshole and shoved hard. The first two feet of the spit entered Louise’s body and stopped short of entering her chest. “Now try not to move. I do not want to nick your heart or lungs.” Louise nodded and held as still as she could while she felt the spit enter her chest. When she felt the spit enter her throat, she took a deep breath and held it. Seeing this, Miss Therriault pushed the spit the rest of the way through and hurried to the head of the table. The teacher hurriedly opened a hole in Louise’s throat and inserted the steel tube. Seeing the woman’s chest start to rise and fall again, Miss Therriault fastened the tube in place. She then got the 12-inch stabilizing rod and inserted it in Louise’s pussy. Tightening the bolts on the ring, she nodded to the cooks. They came and took Louise out to the pits. “Number one, please, gentlemen,” the teacher requested. “Why one and three, Miss Therriault,” Susan asked. “Wouldn’t it be better to place husband and wife together?” “I suppose some would think so,” Miss Therriault replied, “but I want Miranda in the middle. That way both parents can easily see the cause of their misery as they cook.” The class chuckled. Miranda wept. “Now, Miranda,” Miss Therriault said, “it is your turn.” “But I don’t want to die,” Miranda cried. “Isn’t there anything else I can do?” The teacher just looked at her for a moment. “You do realize the situation you are in, right, Miranda? No. There is nothing else you can do. It is too late for that. Besides, we have removed your digestive tract. How long do you think you can live that way? I would say a day or two at the most. Then you would die of thirst. You could drink, of course, but there is no stomach to process it anymore.” “No, Miranda, it is far to late to be crying over this. Your parents are already cooking and we must get you on before they die. We want them to see you cook a little too.” The cooks removed Miranda’s bindings and carried her over to the table. Having seen her parents impaled, she knew what to expect, but still shook with fear when Miss Therriault went to get the spit. The teacher returned with the spit and prepared to run the 16-year-old through with it. “Now, remember, Miranda,” Miss Therriault admonished, “try to hold still while I guide this through you. And be sure to take a deep breath when you feel it at the back of your throat.” Looking at Miranda, the teacher realized the child would not be able to keep still. Without the pain blocker, this was going to be very very painful and Miranda would likely thrash around a lot as she screamed. She looked at the cooks. “Jeff, Tom,” she said to the cooks, “please go get two other men from outside. I need you to hold her down while I do this. She is going to feel a lot of pain and will likely move a lot unless properly restrained.” The cooks understood and got the additional men. With four men holding her down (one at each shoulder and one at each hip), Miranda’s body was completely immobile. Miss Therriault smiled and began to shove the spit into Miranda’s ass. Miranda howled like a banshee. She knew it was only going to get worse and her throat already hurt from her screaming earlier. Before she knew it, the spit was inher chest. Because the men held Miranda steady, the teacher had been able to avoid damaging her heart or lungs. Miranda felt the spit at the back of her throat. She started to gag and then remembered to take a deep breath. She was not happy about this at all, but the teacher made sense. It was too late to stop now. She leaned her head back and opened her mouth. That was all the sign Miss Therriault needed. She gave one more hard push and the spit emerged from Miranda’s bloody mouth. Quickly, the teacher performed the tracheotomy and Miranda began to breathe again. The students removed their earplugs as they realized Miranda’s vocal cords had been blocked by the spit and no more screams would come from their classmate. Miss Therriault placed the stabilizing rod in Miranda’s pussy and shoved it all the way in. Sound or no sound, no one could mistake the girl’s shudder as anything other than her reaction to sudden, sharp pain. Tears formed in the girl’s eyes as the teacher locked the rod in place and indicated to the cooks that Miranda was ready to go. “Number two,” Miss Therriault said unnecessarily. The three Atkinson family members were still alive on their spits twenty minutes later. Brian and Louise felt no pain, but Miranda was clearly suffering. The parents felt sympathy for their child, but in their condition, could do nothing to console the girl. Ten minutes later, Brian was dead, but Louise and Miranda were still going. Miranda looked at her dead father and started crying again. The tears felt cool on her heated cheeks. Louise was almost gone, but had enough strength to look lovingly at her daughter once more. She couldn’t say anything, but she hoped her daughter understood that her mother had forgiven her. Miranda saw the look and was about to respond when she saw her mother go limp on the spit. Her mother was now dead also. The pain was beginning to fade. She was having difficulty focussing her thoughts. She was tired. She blinked once, twice, three times, and closed her eyes never to open them again. She was dead.
The Barbecue
Miranda’s classmates eagerly watched the clock. It was 3:55 in the afternoon. In five more minutes, school would let out and the barbecue would begin. They couldn’t wait to sink their teeth into Miranda’s (or her parents’) succulent flesh.
Miss Therriault had an announcement, however.
“Okay, class, I know you are dying to get out there, um, well, eager to get out there, but I want you to focus for a moment. In all the excitement tonight, I want you all to remember why Miranda is out there instead of in here with you.”
“All of you got a “B” or better, although some of you, and you know who you are, only barely escaped Miranda’s fate. As I mentioned earlier, I will be sending a copy of today’s video to every parent. Those of you who barely got by will probably have some uncomfortable conversations with concerned parents.”
“That said, have a good time tonight and I will see you in the morning.”
The bell rang and everyone started filing out.
“Oh, Susan,” Miss Therriault said, “could you stay for a moment more?”
Susan knew what was coming.
“Sure, Miss Therriault.”
“Well dear, you barely made it. An 80. One point less, and Mrs. Atkinson would have gone home tonight instead of you. Also, your father would have been served up tonight. Don’t let that happen.”
“I understand, Miss Therriault. My parents will probably freak when they realize how close we came.”
“They probably will,” the teacher agreed. “On the other hand, they may just transfer you to a school without our restrictions. That is always a possibility.”
“I would rather stay here. It is the best school in the state. Almost everyone who graduates gets into college. I will work harder.”
“Enough. Go enjoy the food and talk to your parents later. I will see you tomorrow.”
Susan nodded and left the classroom. Miss Therriault went to the cafeteria and got Brian’s cock and balls from the cook. They had been beautifully marinated. She thanked the cook and went out to one of the grills.
The barbecue was packed. There were people everywhere. There were games being played over in the football, baseball, and soccer fields. An explosion announced that someone had just won at lawn darts.
Looking aroung the cooking area, Miss Therriault noticed that the Atkinson’s had already been removed from the coals and served. Looking around quickly, she noticed Miss Henderson at a table that had the heads of Brian, Louise, and Miranda on poles. Walking over, she saw the three bodies, beautifully cooked, lying on platters on the table. Remarkably, they were almost untouched.
“Most of the students just could not bring themselves to eat their classmate, so they are dining on the other ‘examples’,” Miss Henderson said, seeing Miss Therriault’s questioning look. “Fucking weaklings.”
Miss Therriault snorted laughter.
“Well at least it leaves a lot of good meat for me,” she said as she cut Miranda’s pussy from her body and one of Louise’s tits.
Seeing an open grill, she set down her plate of girl meat.
“Please watch this for me,” she asked Miss Henderson. “I will be back in a few minutes.”
Miss Henderson agreed and watched as her friend grilled up Brian’s cock and balls. She was a lesbian and just could not understand what Miss Therriault saw in boy meat. Shugging, she stole a bite from Louise’s tit just as her friend returned.
“Hey,” Miss Therriault objected. “Get your own.”
“Call it the price for protecting your plate,” the other woman shot back, grinning.
Miss Therriault just smiled back. She knew she would pay her friend back later as they made love. All in all, it was an excellent school day.
The End
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I am sorry if it disturbed you. Thanks for your compliment, though.
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I meant to ask, Warlady.
You mentioned that you are beginning to become uncomfortable with these kinds of stories. Is it the snuff, the cann, or the degree of violence? I ask because, although I write mainly for myself, I do not need to be quite so graphic. I get a great deal of pleasure in providing entertainment for people and if my stories are counterproductive to that goal, I would really want to know.
Is there anyway I can help rekindle your interest in something you found pleasurable?
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While I can appreciate your “don’t change anything for me” attitude (I also feel that way most of the time), the fact is that your viewpoint is more common that you may understand.
The degree of violence I use is meant to shock and awe. I love making people go “oh my god. I can’t believe they did that”. It is fun pushing people to their limits. It is, however, an extreme topic. Most people, myself included at times, prefer consensual snuff. It is more humane due to there being less torture involved.
If I were to alter the level of violence, it would not be for you. Well, not for you alone, at least. By appealing to a wider audience, I can bring pleasure to more people.
Thanks for your feedback.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.