Amanda and Riley couldn’t have been more different nor could their assigned Helpers.
I specialize in a hands-on approach of long massage and gently delivered orgasms building to an overwhelming ecstatic death, so I was assigned to Amanda.
Peter is all business and delivers punishing and painful end-of-life experiences for those who prefer to die with some level of agony, so he was a natural for Riley.
Amanda was a gentle, soft-spoken girl who requested a slow, ass to mouth impalement, and within minutes of her lying on my table was experiencing the first of many orgasms to prime her for the big one that was going to rock her socks. Amanda layed down on my table after watching two other girls be gutted and Riley endure one of the most violent and brutal impalements even I had seen. And yeah - sweet, gentle Amanda was dripping (literally) after watching the others die.
Both girls arrived at Die Happy at the same time and awaited the results of their medical clearances in the lobby. Once they were both cleared, Peter and I greeted them in the lobby and started their process at the same time, but Riley would die 30 minutes before Amanda - Peter took an aggressive approach that imposed the experience where I liked to take my time, making sure that when the end came my clients were craving it.
It was in the enema prep room that their differences really started to show.
Amanda opted to lie back on one of our comfortable gyno chairs and have her belly massaged as she received and expelled a series of warm, soapy enemas as she watched two other girls, Sherri and Dana, receive their retention enemas. She was aroused as she watched them take and expel cleansing enemas, then receive their large retention enemas that bloated their bellies so much that they appeared pregnant. Dana took hers like a trooper, where Sherri was left trembling and moaning, but both girls managed to retain the heavy liquid loads with the help of inflatable buttplugs.
Though she tried to hide it, Amanda had her first orgasm on her last enema - one we call the 3-H; high, hot, and a hell of a lot. Ten minutes after Sherri and Dana waddled out of the enema room to settle into their wet rooms, Amanda was finished and ready for her own last walk down to her own room.
We discovered that Riley chose to cleanse her bowels on her own, and as Amanda and I walked past one of our shower stalls, we heard then saw Riley on her knees with her forehead on the floor tiles, grunting and straining as she filled her belly until the cramping got bad then gushed clean water from her blown anus over and over. Peter stood outside the stall and smiled at us as we walked out.
“I feel so light.” Amanda had said, stroking her flat stomach as we walked down the long corridor, “I can’t imagine doing what Sherri and Dana are going through. Does the water all gush out when they’re ... when their bellies are ... ?”
“Opened?” I replied, “No, we have special knives made. They’re like a game dressing knife - a gut hook - but designed for the thicker muscles of human bellies. We cut through skin, fat, and muscle, but don’t damage anything internal.”
“So it squeezes out all bloated with water?”
“Yep.” I smiled at her paling face, “And I’ve been told the release of pressure is amazing.”
We were coming up to the two rooms Sherri and Dana were in. “Want to see if their windows and speakers are on?”
Amanda swallowed past a lump in her throat and nodded.
Sherri was in the first room and her window was clear and the speaker was on. As she settled on the gutting table on her elbows and knees, she saw us watching as she hung her head.
“Turn it off.” she told her Helper, and the Helper walked to the window and winked at us as she flipped the switches making the window frost and the speaker cut out.
“We can’t watch?” Amanda asked.
“No - it’s Sherri’s choice.” I explained, “But we will be able to hear her through the door. The rooms aren’t perfectly sound-proofed.” I took Amanda's hand and drew her to the door, motioning with a finger pressed to my lips to keep silent. Amanda pressed her ear to the small gap between the door and the jamb.
“Okay.” we faintly heard Sherri’s voice, “We can start.”
When the cutting began, we could hear the change in Sherri’s voice - she took the process hard, but still sounded orgasmic. Amanda jerked with surprise when she heard the wet splat of Sherri’s intestines hitting the table, then Sherri crying out and eventually vomiting.
“What’s he doing to her?” Amanda whispered.
“Organ play. She’s stroking Sherri’s bowels and stomach and massaging her vagina internally.” I whispered back, “Some people experience those intrusive sensations as overwhelming and pee, gag, or vomit. But don’t worry, Sherri is having mind blowing orgasms.”
“Will I vomit?” Amada whispered in my ear, her voice revealing some nervousness and excitement of the idea.
I moved my lips to her ear and whispered my answer; “Oh, you will, honey. There’s no escaping that during an impalement. You might start when the spit first touches your stomach, but for sure as it penetrates and slides up your throat.”
Amanda closed her eyes and shuddered.
"But don't worry," I said softly as I laid a hand on her shoulder, "You'll be cumming hard when it happens. I promise."
I could hear Dana’s gutting beginning in the next room, so I took Amanda’s hand and led her down the corridor. Dana’s window was clear and her speaker was on.
Dana was sitting on her heels on the gutting table, facing the window, her tight, water-bloated belly hanging down between her open thighs. Where Sherri opted for a midline cut from her mound to sternum, Dana had chosen a lap cut - one long cut from hip to hip, and she wanted it as fast as possible. I knew the reason why, but didn’t tell Amanda - I wanted her to see Dana’s sudden reaction to her belly opening and spilling her entrails.
Her Helper was already in position when we arrived and was sinking the hooked tip in the hollow of Dana’s right side. Once it was nestled inside her, her Helper pulled it across her belly, dipping low to her bikini line then back up to her left side to release her oblique muscles. As the cut started, Dana’s eyes lit up and she reached down and covered the cut with her palm, clutching at her opening belly in a vain attempt to keep herself intact.
Dana leaned forward as the hooked blade slid effortlessly through skin, fat and muscle, she lifted her right hand and bit it as her belly was slit from hip to hip, gasping and grunting. When her Helper withdrew the knife, gravity pulled at the weight of her water-bloated bowels and Dana let go and her belly yawned open.
“... holy shit ...” Dana gasped, then raised herself up, the fingers of her left hand stroking the emerging tangle of her small intestines as they were expelled from her tight belly to plop and puddle on the table between her open thighs. She shuddered when they hit the cold stainless steel of the table, shiver-bumps spreading over her thighs.
Her Helper gently reached up inside her and scooped her large colon out onto the table with a wet splat. It was swollen and heavy, and as her Helper began her organ play, Dana convulsed in orgasm and pitched forward, letting her forehead come to rest on his upper arm. Her fingers danced over her breasts until she took a tight hold of her puckered nipples and twisted and twirled them as she surrendered herself to her final experience.
Dana took it like a champ, grunting and gasping as her Helper stroked and squeezed her ascending, transverse, and descending colon, his hands trapped between her body and the table, his own soft grunts echoing in the small room as he wrestled with her heavy bowels, massaging and pushing the water in opposition to the rolling undulation of her bowels’ peristalsis, filling her small intestine and working it toward her stomach. Dana’s pelvis curled and released over and over as she experienced waves of her final orgasms as the water was forced up her bowels into her stomach; a drooping pink sac haning down, slowly plumping up with water.
While Amanda’s gaze was transfixed on Dana’s organ play, Riley and Peter walked past behind us. I saw that Riley’s legs were weak and she was trembling as she walked to her room and went inside. She was scared and excited and I don’t think she even noticed us or Dana’s moaning and strains.
Unlike Sherri, Dana didn’t die vomiting, just rode it out until her body slumped and she stopped breathing.
I have the spit inside Amanda’s rectum now as I finger her cunt and stroke her clit. Her body is slick with sweat and she is moaning and gasping, occasionally crying out in orgasm as I nudge the spit which slowly straightens her sigmoid and presses itself into her descending colon. I know the second it forces open the tight sphincter between the two bowel segments when Amanda cries out and tries to squirm on the table.
“... cumming!” she grunts as her face flushes and her thighs quiver wildly.
Amanda’s spit is inside the servo driven impaler, but I haven’t locked it down yet, preferring to work it manually until I feel serious resistance inside her belly. When I activate the impaler, the servo drive will be silent and relentless when it pushes the spit through her.
As Amanda’s orgasm calms, I know it’s going to be good for her - she is surrendering to it; feeling the spit creeping deeper into her bowels toward her stomach like an infernal steel dildo giving her one final intense fuck. As a Helper, you develop a sense for these things; Amanda will die in ecstasy.
As we walked slowly from Dana’s window, Amanda told me that her Pastor preached that if the godly submitted to a pleasurable death, they would begin their next life feeling the same ecstasy. Yeah, she was one of those.
“That’s a beautiful thought.” I answered her diplomatically, wondering if the opposite would be true; do all the clients we’ve had who realize too late that their chosen deaths are pure agony begin their next life feeling that as well?
As we were passing Riley’s room we saw that her window was clear and the speakers on. Amanda’s eyes widened when she glanced through the window and saw that Riley was already starting her impalement.
“We have time if you want to watch.” I told her, “Peter is all business and doesn’t take long.” Besides, I wanted to give our clean-up crew plenty of time - my last client chose an extremely messy way out; a deep cut gutting.
Amanda stood close to the window and even laid her fingertips on the sill.
Riley was on her knees on top of her table, sitting on her pneumatically driven spit. Peter likes the air-powered impaler which he can control by upping the pressure that drives the piston the spit is attached to. The spit he chose for Riley was a shorter, detachable model that he can release inside a girl’s body letting her die with the fat, rigid shaft buried in her body from rectum to her brutalized stomach. The pneumatic banging of the impaler was loud, but we could still hear Riley’s gasps and sexual sounds as she held herself upright, her belly absorbing the shocking thrusts inside her. Riley’s hair was wet from her sweaty scalp and she looked overwhelmed by the violent intrusion of her spit that hammered into her bowels. But she wanted more.
“... please ... please-please-please ...” Riley begged, her desperation plain in her voice, “... I really want to feel it inside of me ...”
We heard the loud hiss as Peter increased the air pressure driving the impaler.
“... I really want it ...” Riley whined, “... I’m so fucking horny ...”
Peter adjusted his control valves and we heard the piston speed up and hammer harder and deeper in Riley’s jiggling belly.
“ ... mmmm ... it’s so high ...” Riley cried out, laying a trembling hand on her lower belly. Those would be the last words she would ever speak. Peter kept increasing the force of the spits thrusts as Riley whined and cried out.
I’ve seen Peter work before and for what he does, he’s a master. He was studying Riley’s face and movements waiting for that perfect instant to deliver the final thrust. The pneumatic impaler’s control panel had a large red button sets off one shot and increases the air pressure and force of the spit tenfold and at the same instant releases the spit inside the client’s belly. The spit was tapered but not sharp, so it did not puncture the client’s stomach sac, but burst it instead. That moment was fast approaching for Riley.
Amanda was now gripping the window sill as her eyes stayed transfixed on Riley’s ecstatic sexual torture. I could see the oily shine slithering down Amanda’s inner thighs, so watching the violent impaling was arousing her. Riley was shaking so badly that her table was jerking hard, and it struck the stand holding lube, speculums, numbing creams and other items that are the tools of our trade. It was the perfect moment.
Peter slapped the big red button with his palm.
The articulated arm slammed the spit up into Riley’s belly and released it inside her. The impact jarred Riley hard, her body convulsing, her eyes rolling up in her head. Her burst stomach contracted and she instantly began gagging and heaving, jerking and falling forward onto her face, her body shaking and spasming. Riley tried to curl herself around the foreign steel shaft imbedded in her abdomen from rectum to her gullet, but the rigidity of the spit wouldn’t allow it. Instead we watched Riley experience a prolonged death orgasm as her pelvis curled and released, humping the spit for all she was worth. Riley died satisfied with the violent ecstasy of her impalement.
As Riley’s movement slowed then stopped, blood and bile oozing from her open mouth, Amanda took a deep breath and slowly let it out.
“Oh my goodness.” was all she had to say.
“You still want to go through with it?” I asked her softly.
Still gazing at Riley’s twitching corpse, Amanda nodded. I took her hand and led her down the hallway to her room where her own spit awaited her.
It’s been half an hour since Amanda watched Riley die from her violent impalement, and she’s taken hers like a champ as well. I’ve kept the spit loose in the servo’s grip and have been pushing in and out of her as I masturbated Amanda to dozens of orgasms. The girl is slick with sweat and nearing exhaustion. Her body and face are hot to the touch. The room is humid and reeks of sweat and arousal along with the skunky scent of fear from her armpits and the erotic musk of freshly fucked ass that all girls get during an anal impalement as their sweaty assholes loosen and gape around the spit. Through my fingers in her cunt I felt her sphincter loosen gradually for the last twenty minutes to the point that now her rectum prolapses around the silver shaft each time she strains and grunts through another orgasm. It looks like a wet, wrinkled red sock, but it’s giving her pleasure each time I push the spit into her, her prolapsed rectum rolling over itself.
Sweet, gentle Amanda has transformed into hedonistic sexual madness that I’m sure if she could see herself now, it would shock her . She is lost in the burning fever of pure lust, drifting in and out of lucidity as the experience has drawn more orgasmic pleasure from her lithe body on her table than she’s experienced in her entire life.
“Amanda?” I say softly.
“... muhuh ...” she moans and rolls her head from side to side.
“It’s time, honey.” I tell her as I lower the clamp on the impaler, “I’m locking it down.”
“... better ... when you pushed it ...” she slurs, squirming slowly on the table.
“But now I need help from the impaler to push it all the way.” I bend over and whisper to her as I renew finger-fucking her as I locate the servo pedal with my left foot.
“... help? ...” she whimpers, “... to finish it?”
“You think I need help?” I ask gently.
“... yeah ...” she whimpers, pushing her belly out and arching her back to relish the rigid spit in her belly. Amanda is ready. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a girl more ready.
I step lightly on the pedal and the servo slowly pushes the spit deeper than ever. Amanda’s mouth opens in surprise as she feels the spit inching toward the upper reaches of her belly. She arches her back again and I see the spit bulging her soft belly just below her sternum - it’s so close.
“... mmm-fuck ...” she gasps and whines. I keep finger-fucking her loose, oily cunt, and massaging her clit as she lays flat once more, surrendering to the spit. She burps wetly - the spit has touched her stomach. Amanda grimaces, and clenches her fists at her side so tight her knuckles turn white - she knows what’s coming. Amanda burps again as the slow moving spit compresses her stomach.
“... yes! ... keep going! ...” Amanda gasps desperately, “... keep going! ... keep going! ...”
She wants it and she wants it now. I push down on the pedal, speeding up the spit. I see her jerk as it punctures her stomach and she cries out, squirming as best she can with almost a meter of rigid steel from her anus to her gullet.
“... yeah ...” she whimpers her last word then starts choking and burping. I press down further on the pedal to speed the spit up into her gullet. Amanda’s throat is working - she’s trying to swallow the spit back down (so many girls do) but starts to gag and gurgle, the pungent smell of bile adds to the riot of body smells in the room.
“Put your head back.” I tell her, wanting the spit to emerge from her mouth and not embed at the top of her throat. When she doesn’t respond I repeat it; “Put your head back.”
This time she does, gagging then vomiting as the spit slides up her throat. She wraps her thighs tight around the spit between the table and the impaler and tries to squirm and hump the spit but she is now fully impaled. Amanda is cumming hard - her final prolonged death orgasm.
“Yeah.” I breathe near her ear and continue working her cunt to prolong her orgasm, “I’m not done fingering you.”
I work her hard, wanting her orgasm to last until after her heart stops.
Amanda twists her body around the spit skewering her body, still vomiting, still cumming, the spit now emerging from between her chattering teeth. In her last few seconds Amanda convulses, her body shuddering in her dying seizure, her hips rolling like she’s frantically trying to hump the spit. I see her jaw muscles clench tight and hear the crunch as she joins the chipped tooth club. But even as her body calms, I feel her cunt continue to pulse in orgasm until it too calms and loosens and her body slumps.
I feel a rush of what feels like love and envy for Amanda and gratitude that I am able to play the instrument of these girls’ bodies and take them to the ecstatic crescendo of the anthem of their lives.
When I leave the room I go to one of the privacy chambers for us Helpers and play back the video feeds from Riley and Amanda’s impalement while I fuck myself brutally with the largest dildo I can find. As always, I fantasize about the day I come back to Die Happy as a client and join the chipped tooth club.
Understandably, assisted sexual suicide is us Helper's most common cause of death and impalement one of the top favourites.