The British Government has been debating a law to make possession of extreme pornographic writings illegal
These are to be defined as relating to mutilation or injuries inflicted for the purposes of sexual gratification as well as deions or bestiality and some other practices.
Please oppose this proposal or you may find the only BDSM or Snuff stories you are left with are ones like the one below.
You have been warned!
It really is an amazing feat of engineering, the human ass hole, I always think it's amazing, so tight and secure, keeping all the filth and smell sealed inside and yet fully capable of expanding to take a Newcastle brown beer bottle, a medium size Courgette, a Penis, or in Abdul's case four pounds of Semtex explosive..
Three pounds of Semtex and a detonator and a receiver to be precise. That's what I found in there when Sgt Andrews brought him in,
Not to worry though, we get some of the best training in the world in the REME and poor old Abdul had a duff capacitor in his detonator, that's why he hadn't blown Andrews and Seven lads from C Company up as they passed him in the Souk, and why Sgt Andrews and myself had found ourself trying to gently pry whole stinking mess from Abduls increasingly bleeding and torn ass hole with a crow bar and Vise grips as we worked in the lead lined shelter just inside our compound.
It emerged eventually, a long shit coated condom clad sausage, stinking and bloodied, the receiver was obvious , as was the detonator, Chinese, cheap, shoddy and flawed, the battery was too weak so they used a capacitor, and the Capacitor was 25 volt, when it needed a 3 volt If you don't understand why a 3 volts better than a 25 volt in this application then this story is too short to explain it. Sorry.
"Capacitor again Sergeant Andrews," I said, "One of those cylindrical blue three volt ones ones with contacts on both ends, about eight mill long." Andrews picked a sealed packet out of the fishing box I used for my tools, and showed it to me, "that's the one." I agreed, "right shall I try and fix it for him?"
"Yes sir, part of our remit sir, assist the native population, sir" Andrews agreed.
So after taking the sim card out of the guts of the mobile phone receiver they had adapted, I carefully removed the faulty capacitor and soldered the new one in place using my little gas powered soldering iron.
The next step needed my Lap top Computer, I decided to re-program the sim card to put us in charge of when he blew up. I had a sim card socket which fitted a USB port on the Lap top, I cloned my own sim details, I had the data on file which made it easy, then I carefully refitted the sim, tested the batteries and suggested to Sgt Andrews that I should put it back together and we should shove it back in his ass.
Poor old Abdul, he was watching us from the rig, as we called it.
His robe was around his shoulders and he was bent over a wooden beam supported by adjustable A frames at waist height, his hands lashed to the bottom of the front legs of the A frames, so his head was well down and upside down, his feet lashed to the centre of the frame so his feet were spread quite wide and of course his ass was at a convenient height for us to work on and as a bonus the blood went back inside him from the splits and cuts where Andrews had been a bit brutal with the crowbar.
"Lube sir" Andrews asked as he picked up a can of Duckhams Fleetol Multigrade oil.
"Medium Grease I think Sergeant," I suggested.
"Only got Graphite Sir!" he said,
"Ok, two fifty mill of Fleetol." I agreed.
It's good stuff Fleetol, a good quality detergent oil for diesel engines, you don't want to swallow any or get it on your skin though, it stings like crazy, I use it in my old Hillman Avenger, back at Ludgershall, but it must burn like hell when half a pint is poured down your ass hole.
Abdul screamed even before Sgt Adams put the tip of the funnel against his ass hole, but he was helpless and our shelter was soundproofed, "Shut it wanker" said Andrews, "Think of all them virgins waiting in the Garden of Eden, eighty year old Catholic nuns most of them."
There was this brief multicoloured oily bubble as Abdul farted in fear,and then Andrews wiped the shit and blood off the funnel on Abdul's robe and put oil can back in the locker.
Our training never covered sticking four pounds of explosive down a insurgent's ass hole, but with him so far head down and his ass nearly vertical we just let gravity do it, aiming the soft latex cover at his ring which we held open using tyre levers while the bomb oozed and glugged it's way back inside.
"You will rot in hell!" he screamed.
"You said you didn't speak English," Sgt Andrews said as he gently broke Abdul's jaw by kicking it with his shiny army issue boot."That's naughty!"
"Neganu" or something similar, Abdul screamed, as his jaw dropped awkwardly unsupported on the one side since Andrews had smashed the hinge.
"Put a stitch or two in Sergeant," I ordered, "We don't want it dropping out do we?"
"Sir?" said Andrews, in puzzlement.
"The Ass Sergeant, we don't want him shitting Semtex everywhere do we?"
"No sir, I mean yes sir" Andrews said as he took a needle and thread from my tool box and started to stitch Abdul's ass hole shut.
"Gives a new slant on stitching someone up," Andrews muttered.
"Look I'm the comedian," I insisted, with what I hoped was a disarming grin.
The dismount was quite straightforward, first we lashed Abdul's wrists and ankles with cord so we could take the Handcuffs off and then on my signal Andrews slashed the cords securing Abdul's left hand and foot with his Swiss Army Knife, while I slashed the other side with a Stanley knife.
He came up slowly the robe falling to cover his legs as he straightened, and then he stared at us in incredulity
"You can go," I said. Abdul just stared.
"Fuck off," Andrews added helpfully.
This was the technical bit, the main thing was to phone someone on my mobile so that the cloned phone which was wired to the detonator in Abdul's ass wouldn't ring and blow him up prematurely, just starting to dial wasn't enough as it would go to standby after around forty five seconds.
That was why the shelter was lead lined, to keep radio signals out.
It was all so different when Abdul set off, he wasn't a bad looking lad, about twenty I reckon, university student, that's like one of our lads studying for GCSE woodwork, he was what, five foot ten, skinny, full beard, manky teeth, black hair, needed a wash, a reckon if he walked into the regimental recruiting centre at Merthyr the lads there might might have given him a chance, though whether he would have survived three months basic training at Catterick is another matter.
The plan had been for Abdul blow both himself a goodly number of innocent civilians and number of Military personnel up by activating the bomb up his ass with a mobile phone call, Ass-assinationwe called it, which made him an Ass-assin. His mates figured that if they blew enough of us up we would fuck off home, well nothing would have made me happier than to go home to be quite honest.
Why, you may ask, well some said it was religion, but me, if I had to live in a land of scorching heat, blazing sun, freezing nights, sand and goats and goat shit and the smell of goat shit and food that smelled like goat shit and come to think of it tasted like goat shit, I reckon I would probably want to blow myself up too.
But Abdul had some faulty kit and when Sgt Andrews spotted him trying to get the bomb to go off, as his patrol passed through the Souk, which is what they called the local market, he sent the lads in and that's when Abdul found he couldn't run as fast as he used to when his jacksy wasn't stuffed with Semtex.
Private Alwyn Jones brought Abdul down with a smack to the side of the head from the butt of his Armalite rifle, while Pte Lynden Jones administered what would be considered a foul in Rugby union and tried to rip his balls off as he fell.
"Nothing round his waist, Sarge" Lynden confirmed.
"Check his ass man" Sgt Andrews ordered, "Smash that phone!"
Some hopes, that phone was gone, stolen as he stumbled and dropped it, passed from hand to hand underneath those all enveloping robes, it was hopeless.
"Ass is all red and inflamed, like a Homo." Lynden confirmed.
"Ass bomb, cuffs and tow rope,on the double," Sgt Andrews shouted "Cover him," and they simply cuffed his hands behind him, and when Pte "Paddy" Fields arrived in the Land Rover they paid out the fifty yard tow rope, dropped the end round the Land Rover's tow ball and they drove slowly back to camp with Abdul jogging along behind the Land Rover, Paddy like to make them jog briskly, sixty five miles an hour or so usually but this time he stuck to not much more than walking pace.
That's when I got the call, I was just "enjoying" a plate of spam and chips when my pager buzzed, I answered the call immediately on the mess land-line, "Suspected internal James," Karen Phelps our Adjutant said, "Down by gate C, Sorry"
"Breathing?" I asked.
"Oh yes, he's by the shelter." she said breezily, "Apparently he jogged in."
He was against the gate when I climbed out of the Humvee we had sort of borrowed from our trans-atlantic friends, the lads had Abdul secured, they had shut a gate on the tow rope and pulled him tight against the gate with the Land Rover still the best part of fifty yards away.
I introduced myself as I reeled the tow rope in, he tried the spitting trick but I was wise to it, and then I just wandered into the shelter, with the rope which I wound twice around the capstan and powered it up, he didn't have any real choice but to follow me in as the three horsepower electric capstan revolved and wound in the rope.
The rope passed over the bar supported by the A frame, so it just pulled him into place, that's when Sgt Andrews arrived to lend a hand.
"It's all right Sergeant," I said, "It's better if I do it alone."
"He'd have gone off by now if he was going to Sir, " Andrews replied, "he looks like an awkward sod, so I'd rather see him secure than have to catch the little shit again."
So we got him cuffed and in position, bent near double.
Now I don't know your favourite way of pulling things out of ass holes but I like a corkscrew, but this was a bit awkward as it could have shorted out the detonator and blown the lot sky high.
So we used a set of tyre levers and then when we got him spread wide enough to see the end of the bomb so Sgt Andrews got his crow bar in there and started to pry it out.
I found some long nosed pliers and a set of long nosed Vise grips and tried to help Andrews extract the bomb, of course through all this Abdul was screaming at the top of his lungs, in fact he sounded just like Pte Dillwyn Jones did when he was imitating Katherine Jenkins singing Time to say Goodbye..
The damn thing kept slipping as we tried to pry it out, of course with all he levering and we split the ring in a couple of places and that made the whole mess slippery, and of course everything was coated with shit, so it was thoroughly nasty.
"Pity we couldn't just set the bloody bomb off sir." Andrews said.
""It's all right Andrews I can reach it with the pliers, here we are." I said as I got a good grip and it started to emerge, Andrews gave a good heave with the crow bar and of course Abdul's ass hole split.luckily the blood went downwards and back in him instead of across the floor of our shelter.
But at the end of the day it wasn't the sort of soldiering I signed up for.
I went outside and called my Grandma back in Sunderland, on my mobile, she loved to chat, and Abdul shuffled past me as Sgt Andrews covered him with his Armalite rifle.
Abdul just didn't understand what was going on, he thought he was a hard guy, right was on his side, that we westerners were soft and merciful, and that for some bizarre reason we were not only letting him go but had shoved the bomb back up his ass hole as well. Of course that was bollocks, we had changed the detonator's phone number and we just wanted him under the security Camera before we triggered the bomb.
"Fuck off then," Sgt Andrews ordered and I waited as Abdul made his way towards the main gate, we had yellow lines painted to show what was covered by the security Cameras and what was not, and as Abdul crossed the line I shut the phone down and Sgt Andrews and I ducked down behind the blast wall.
I counted to ten, as I switched the phone back on, and as expected Gran phoned back.
There was the muffled crump of an explosion.
The bomb worked beautifully, and when we checked the CCTV later, moving it frame by frame it showed him gradually swell up before he burst, his head went straight up, the shoulders to the left together with both arms although the forearms flew off, and his legs remained standing for a surprising number of milliseconds before they crumpled.
The rib cage splattered all around, ribs clattering like shrapnel on the concrete apron while lumps of flesh and guts and shit and gore splattered out over quite a wide area, and when the shit settled all that was left was just a skull some rag and a whole lot of offal.
"It was the Capacitor then Sir." said Andrews as he shook my hand, "Saved a lot of hassle for the lads, Thank you sir!"
"That's all right Sergeant." I replied, "All part of the Job, do you think you could you get the lads to clean that shit up before it goes putrid?"