Faith in Miracles

One year later.

Grace looked up and smiled at Wilson while she gummed his cock, waiting for her usual piss breakfast. She’d been a real fine beauty once, but those days were long gone. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, her nose crooked and misshapen after being broken and re-broken several times, her lips cracked and swollen. He’d gotten dollar blowjobs from crack addicts who looked better than Mrs. Matthews.

None of those washed out bitches had ever worn a smile that matched hers, though. It was an expression with all the joy and intelligence of a beaten puppy.

He’d woken up with a full bladder, so he didn’t keep her waiting long, spraying out a thick dark stream of urine that she eagerly gulped down without missing a beat. Meanwhile, Heather was already suckling on his balls, trying to encourage him to produce her own liquid breakfast soon. “Get to work,” he ordered as soon as his bladder was empty.

“Yes sir!” Grace said, and quickly shuffled towards the back wall on her knees, her bloated belly wobbling with every step. The pregnant woman’s arms had been crossed behind her, wrist cuffs locked together. A thin steel wire started at one cuff, went under her collar and around her neck, and then ended back at the other cuff. If she didn’t keep her wrists as high up as she could, the garrote was more than capable of choking her to death.

When his slave reached the back wall, she turned around and bent forward, resting her upper body on the floor. This had the effect of rubbing her sensitive tits against the rough, dirty surface of the truck. Like her daughter, her already plump fun bags now bulged obscenely around zip ties, and her nipples were stuck together, though he’d chosen to use her wedding ring instead of a paper clip. That meant her tits were mottled and swollen and hurt like hell to the touch, especially her puffy nipples, but that didn’t stop her from grinding that titflesh into the floor as she stuck her rump in the air as high as she could, until she was standing on tiptoe. “Quit being lazy and move!” he barked.

“Yes sir, sorry for being a lazy bitch, sir!” she cried out, and without raising herself off the ground began to lick the few inches of floor her tongue could reach, scraping off any stray drops of bodily fluids and the dirt his boots had tracked in. When she’d cleaned up that little section, she took a tiny step forward, scouring those fat bruised melons of hers a couple inches against the ground until she’d reached a fresh patch of floor to lick. More scraping her titties raw. More floor licking. Scraped titties. Floor licking. Scraped titties. Floor licking.

This was how his toilet occupied her time while Wilson was busy driving and choking her daughter on his cock. It was pointless busywork and they all knew it, which only made it more entertaining. With the aid of a small camera to keep her honest, she’d spend hours tongue washing and titty sweeping the floor just like this, crawling around on tiptoe and tits. Clumsy bitch would probably fall over a hundred times before the day was over, but that was fine as long as the entire floor had been mopped by the time he was done driving, and not a single tongue flick had been done when she wasn’t in her proper position. Breaking either rule meant getting her butt whipped if he was in a good mood, and a finger broken if he wasn’t. All ten of her digits had been mangled at one point or another, and had healed back unevenly, leaving her with hands that could only perform the most simple of functions. Not that it mattered; he had no plans to uncuff her wrists until it was time to strip her corpse.

Her belly had swelled so much in the last five months that it was nearly touching the ground, but for now it remained bare inches above it, swaying softly as she crawled. She was a fertile slut, he’d give her that. He’d only ever fucked her once, after getting completely hammered one night and drunkenly deciding it would be fun to find out what her insides felt like, even if he wasn’t going to use them. Once had been enough.

Wilson left the pregnant slut to her work while he returned to the driver’s cabin, Heather crawling faithfully behind. Like usual, she left a small trail of cunt slime behind her that her mother would have to clean up eventually. His ex-nun fucktoy was always horny these days, thanks to the toilet eating her out day and night. She’d somehow managed to avoid cumming during any of their overnight tongue fucking sessions - he’d checked and double checked the results, and even used the handle of a toilet brush to make her mother cum a few times so he could check that the monitor was working - but they’d left her in a state of constant arousal. She was so worked up that sometimes she even responded to getting fucked by him. She’d look genuinely grateful when he’d pinch her clit or tug on her nipple clip to kill her buzz.

If getting knocked up had made her mother fat as a cow, eight or nine months had turned Heather into a goddamn elephant. When he looked at her, all he saw was an enormous belly and cow like tits with some arms and legs attached. It had been fun letting her swell up at first; he’d enjoyed the variety of rolling her onto that bloated stomach to fuck her ass, or watching it jiggle between them while he pounded on the door to her womb.

The problem, as usual, was the cunt’s attitude. She’d latched onto that parasite like it was the Second Coming, begging Wilson not to go through his stated plan of just tossing it in the trash after it was born. Her desperate attempts to persuade him weren’t all bad. She used to approach sex with the goal of getting his balls as quickly and fully drained as possible, which had been nice. Now she was genuinely trying to coax his cock to life as often as possible, hoping to win him over by showing how many times she could make him finish, and that was even better. And when he’d told her to step up her cunt munching from now on, she started going at it so fiercely that sometimes he wondered if mama fuckmeat was cumming as often as he did.

The problem was all the fucking whining. Even gagging her wouldn’t help - one glance from those wet puppy dog eyes was worse than an hour long sob story. It was like the bitch still hadn’t broken, not completely. If that stupid slut had time to worry about the thing in her belly, it meant he was going too easy on her. And yet no matter how much he fucked with her or her toilet of a mother, she wouldn’t quit. It was goddamn infuriating.

But that was going to change today.

Wilson spent a few hours driving, with his pregnant fuckmeat wringing out load after load down her throat, before he pulled onto the side of the road. “Time for the three of us to play a game!” he told his pet nun, who was suckling him as he untied her leash. Games had never meant anything but horror for both fucktoys, but Heather met his words with a bright - and cock stuffed - smile.

In the passenger cabin, Grace was still hard at work tongue mopping and tit sweeping, but she immediately focused on Wilson when he entered, her daughter crawling behind him. He ignored her for now, intent on getting Heather suspended from the ceiling again. The restraints creaked a bit more than usual under her new weight, but he was still able to get her hanging by her wrists. Then he forced her legs into such a wide horizontal split that he was pretty sure he’d dislocated at least one of them and tied ropes between her ankles and her collar to secure them there, leaving her body looking like an inverted T.

“Toilet, cunt kisses for the fuckmeat!” the trucker barked. Grace crawled over as quickly as she could to latch her mouth over Heather’s spread and stapled twat. As wet slurping noises filled the cabin, the blonde bitch began to squirm, red-faced.

“You’ve been begging me this whole damn time not to trash that worm in your belly,” Wilson told his pet, “so I’m finally going to give you the chance.”

“Th-thank you, sir!” Heather gasped. “I promise, y-you won’t regret it! I’ll be the best c-cum gobbling fuckmeat i-in the world, I swear! In the name of the Lord, I swear! I-aaaaggh!” She screamed as he grabbed one of her index fingers and brutally wrenched it. In moments, the mangled digit was barely still attached.

“I told you to quit that goddamn nun shit!” Wilson said crossly. “I gotta break every fucking one of your fingers before you learn to shut your fucking mouth?!”

“I’m sorry sir!” she squeaked, but he noticed that she didn’t promise not to do it again. That was exactly the kind of fucking bullshit he needed to end today.

Wilson touched his knuckles to her massive, swollen belly. “Here’s what happens now, fuckmeat. I’m going to use your blubber here as a punching bag for a while.” Heather’s eyes went wide. “And I’m only stopping for two reasons. Either because I’m convinced your precious little baby is just a bloody smear in your womb, or because the toilet has finally made you cum.”

“A-and you w-won’t kill her if I do?” Heather asked, her voice quivering. The haunted look in her eyes told him that she already knew the answer.

The trucker gave her a hard slap across the face. “Of course I’m still gonna fucking kill her, idiot! And you!” He gave Grace a kick in the ribs that knocked her over. “If I think that there’s even a single goddamn second where you’re not fucking devoted to make your lezzie fuckmeat daughter cum, I’m going to rip off both your fat tits and see how far I can stuff them up your worthless toilet fuckholes. Do you think I’m kidding?”

“N-n-nuh shuhh,” Grace stammered through her toothless maw, already scurrying back to her daughter’s twat. The slurping was louder and sloppier than ever.

“Damn fucking right I’m not,” Wilson muttered. And just for good measure, he used the stapler to staple both of her lips to her daughter’s flesh. Now there was no worry about the fuckmeat’s cunt getting even a moment of peace during boxing practice.

“Please, sir, I-” Heather began. She never got the chance to finish before his fist impacted her belly. He hadn’t held back on the punch, and his knuckles almost seemed to sink directly into her soft flesh. Whatever useless plea she’d been about to say was transformed into a breathless squeal of agony as the force of the blow sent her swinging backwards a few inches before her stapled cunt pulled her back, where Wilson was already rearing back for the next punch.

Each meaty thud into her swollen belly felt almost as good as shooting his load into her. He’d tried all manner of toys and torture devices on her body since last April, but there was just something special about beating the shit out of her with his bare fists, especially with such a tempting target. “You think fuckmeat like you is supposed to have kids?!” he shouted as he left bruise after bruise on her jiggling stomach. “That’s more ridiculous than that fucking God shit! Babies are for women, idiot, not fuckmeat! All you were born for is sucking, fucking, and suffering, and I ain’t convinced about those first two!”

“STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP!” Heather was screaming the word over and over as he pummeled her. Wilson didn’t know which of them she was even talking to: the man exterminating her brat, or her mother committing suicide by cunt licking. She probably didn’t know either, but she kept shrieking at the top of her lungs, even as he knocked the wind out of her and reduced her cries to garbled sounds of animal distress.

Several minutes passed before Wilson felt something break inside of her, something fragile and valuable that would probably never recover. From her whimper, she felt it too. Encouraged, her punched her in the exact same spot, and felt things crumple further. “Better focus on mommy’s tongue if you want to make that toothless toilet a grandmother!” he roared, continuing his assault. “Cause I don’t think we’re ever gonna have to do this again! That womb of yours is gonna be nothing but a dead fucking sperm bank from now on!”

Heather was screaming wordlessly at this point, her body swinging from side to side in an attempt to avoid his fists and her mother’s mouth, and succeeding at neither. “You did this to yourself, cunt!” he spat at her. “Always whining about God! About your fucking toilet of a mother! About this worm you’re calling a baby! You know the only thing in this entire fucking world that fuckmeat like you should ever be thinking about?!” He punctuated each of his next words with another body blow, each with all his weight behind them. “How! To! Please! Me! How! To! Please! My! Cock! I! Am! Your! God! And! You! Should! Worship! Me!”

“NOOOooooOOOOooOOOOOO!” The blonde let out a shrill keening wail, her body flushed and twitching in ways it never had before. Wilson didn’t need to check the heart monitor to know what was happening. But he did notice something else after he put his fists down: the blood bubbling out from Grace’s stapled lips alongside all the cunt juice.

The trucker nearly doubled over laughing while his slave had what was quite possibly the first orgasm of her life. “You fucking slut!” he wheezed, scooping some of the blood running down Grace’s body and showing it to her daughter. “Two birds with the same stone, huh? Or were you just so happy to feel that little brat die inside that you couldn’t help yourself?! Even I didn’t know you were this disgusting!”

He expected Heather to launch into fresh waterworks at the news, but instead the filthy blonde girl went so still and silent that he thought she’d passed out at first. Until he saw her lips move. “Please…” she whispered hoarsely, her voice barely audible. “She’ll be a good toilet… promise…”

“That so?” Wilson asked, looking down at Grace. The fat tittied slut nodded and made a noise of assent, still slurping away at her daughter’s cunt. “Should I keep you around after all, toilet? Is this how you want to spend the rest of your life? Keeping your daughter’s holes clean and her pussy wet, gulping down my piss and spit shining my cock, keeping my floor mopped and swept?” Another nod. “Alright, let’s give you a chance.”

The trucker grabbed the back of her head with one hand, pressing her face hard against her daughter’s twat. “Make her cum again, toilet. Do that and maybe I’ll let you live.”

And with his other hand, he stapled her nostrils shut.

Grace went into such a frenzy after that, Wilson regretted not beating her ass more often; she had been holding out. The suffocating woman’s tongue lapped and lashed madly at her daughter’s slit even as her eyes grew unfocused. And Heather was fucking her back, too, doing her best to ride her mother’s face to another finish.

The two of them working in tandem might have even worked out a second orgasm for Heather after all. Wilson wasn’t looking and didn’t care. He just kept holding Grace’s head in place as her movements slowed and her eyes rolled back in her head, until the pregnant woman finally came to a complete stop, her tongue still buried inside her daughter.

He stayed like that for a slow count of 300 to make sure she was dead, and then let go.

Where there had once been five living creatures, only two remained. “What do you think, slut?” Wilson asked Heather as she stared at him with dull, hopeless eyes. “You think Jesus still loves me?”

“I… don’t care…” she whispered, and the trucker laughed.

“That’s the spirit,” he encouraged. “Now let’s get you back to sucking cock, fuckmeat.”

Epilogue

Wilson hummed quietly to himself as he pulled back onto the road. He’d have to stop somewhere to dispose of Grace’s body, but that shouldn’t be too much of a problem. He could think of half a dozen barren spots he’d be passing by where he could dump a body in a shallow grave and let the weather and the wildlife take care of the rest. And now that he had the experience, he didn’t think it would be too hard to find a replacement toilet. Hell, he could probably grab one of his bitch’s sisters, go through her entire fucking family just for the fun of it.

What mattered was that he’d finally broken this blonde piece of fuckmeat once and for all. She was leashed to him, his cock down her throat and his balls stuffed in her cheeks, just the way it should be. And in her eyes, there was no longer the faintest spark of life to be seen. Just dead eyed misery, and it was beautiful. So goddamn beauti-

Sudden sharp pain lanced through Wilson’s crotch, and he nearly ran himself off the road before recovering. He looked down to see his slave’s mouth working, her teeth grinding against his member. The fucking bitch was trying to chew his dick off! He tried to push her away from him, but that fucking leash was still on, keeping him trapped inside of her.

“You fucking bitch!” he snarled, punching her in the face instead. He was dimly aware that the truck was swerving from lane to lane, veering into oncoming traffic, but the agony was almost too much to think, let alone calm down and stabilize a forty ton machine careening out of control. “Let go, you stupid cunt! You’re going to kill us both!” Wilson expected to see rage in her eyes as she did her best to murder them, or raw grief. But her expression was the same dead eyed stare it had been since the death of her brat and mother and future sibling.

Just before his truck slammed into another at high speed, Wilson had time for one lucid thought: maybe leaving Heather with nothing left to lose had been a bad idea.

And then everything went black.

*

Heather woke a few days later in the hospital, her father by her bed. He wept and hugged her, telling her he’d always had faith he’d see her again someday; she flinched and said nothing.

He told her what had happened after the crash. How authorities had found the body of her mother, and the mangled remains of the truck’s driver. How they’d found her weak and malnourished and covered in minor injuries, but otherwise almost completely fine. A miracle, he called it. An honest to God, genuine miracle.

Heather Matthews laughed bitterly at that, her eyes cold and flat.