Wrecked Holes

The clips advanced. Single images were giving way to short videos, just a few frames at a time. Close-ups of stretched-out vaginas. Purple cock-heads withdrawing to reveal the raw pink holes, before plunging in again.

Lois' eyes were focused on the screen, rarely blinking, her breathing normal, attention focused. Yet around the edges of the screen she noticed a lightening, as though bright lights were turned on, all around her. The reporter could feel a growing warmth.

The clips were focusing in on the fresh-fucked pussies. Panning down now, to show both the vagina and anus. A kind of montage of double-pumping action, cocks going in and out of both, holes stretched taut from the thick shafts plunging in and out, in and out.

Lois was hot. Uncomfortably so. She shrugged out of her jacket, kicked off her shoes. The air felt good on her bare skin. The background behind the clips was no longer Internet Explorer, but a pink expanse of slow swirls. She focused on the clips, which were getting longer.

The shafts were getting bigger. Not just human penises taking those holes to their limits. Fat fucking toys, being pushed in and out, in and out...Lois could see the skin taut and pink as bulbous plugs the size of soda cans were being pulled out. She wondered what it must feel like, to have your sphincter almost at the point of snapping, and knowing that every time, it was going to be a little looser, and a little looser, until finally it would never close up all the way again...

Without looking, Lois carefully took the collar of her shirt between her two hands and pulled with all her strength. The thin material ripped, a ragged tear right down the center. Her eyes were on the screen the entire time. Something in her didn't want to waist a moment, even to pull the shirt over her head. The air felt good on her chest, but she was still so hot...

Pants were the next to go. Lois peeled the pussy-drenched stretchy pants and panties off in one go, letting them fall unceremoniously on the floor at her feet. The cool air kissed her wet cunt. Her eyes never left the screen, the world outside of it a solid expanse of bright white light, too bright to look at. With practiced ease, she unhooked her bra and shimmied to let it fall from her breasts. To sit naked and unafraid before the final mystery.

The camera wasn't even showing the penetration now, just the pull out. Close-up on the blown out cunts and assholes. Gaping and raw, the lips hanging loose and unable to close over the strange pink geography within. Assholes wide, the rims raw and angry, showing the red tunnel within. Long, slow shots of those impossibly fat phalluses pulling out, leaving the slots behind look worn and empty, like deflated balloons, twitching feebly, unable to close, and beginning to leak...

The frame rate slowed. Lois almost caught her breath, in expectation of what was happening. The toys—it was hard to think of them like that, they didn't look like any kind of dick that nature had intended. Industrial-grade fuck-hole fillers, pussy breakers, ass wreckers. Shiny chrome steel and lots of it. Lois saw the latest piston pulling out. Like giving birth to a solid ingot of metal. The sphincter was almost visible through the skin, a tight rope of muscle, straining against an impossible friction. Actually being pulled out, away from the body... and then it happened.

Prolapse.

The pink integument came out with the piston, literally pulling the woman on screen inside out. It was like a flip had been switched in the video, and in her head. It was all prolapses now, vagina and anuses. Pink socks dangling from over-fucked pussies and assholes, holes that had been plowed beyond their limit and were now collapsed, sagging under the weight of their own distended flesh.

Lois couldn't imagine what that must feel like. To go so far beyond normal sex, to literally be stretched and pounded and used up until part of you gave out in physical exhaustion, a pussy designed for a lifetime turned into a blown-out cunt. She knew it must hurt. It must feel strange, for that inner part of you to dangle, unable to close, unable to go back in. The women on the screen would need surgery just to live normal lives. Yet some of them...yes, she could see it, as fingers and cocks began to play with the trashed, gaping orifices. They were still game. Still fucking. Raw, used, worthless, gaping sluts...

Lois' eyes were glued to the screen, but she caught a hint of movement around the edges, something emerging from the computer right in front of her. Nothing she could focus on without taking her eyes off the orifice destruction she was witnessing over and over again, and she couldn't, wouldn't look away from that.