Crushed

Story Title: Crushed
Author’s Name JD
Content Codes: M/F, nc, rape, anal, drugs, viol, sick, tort, mutil, snuff
Celebs: Gina Carano
Disclaimer: This story contains content that should not be read by
people underneath the age of 21. It is 100% fiction and has no bearing
on reality whatsoever. 100% fiction means real life rape is WRONG. The
author does not condone illegal and immoral actions described. If you
feel rape in the real world is a good thing, bend over in a prison and
whistle dixie. While I’m disclaiming, racism, homophobia and other
bigotry of any kind
are also really fucking stupid. I do not know Gina
“Conviction” Carano (a.k.a. American Gladiator Crush) and everything I
have written is purely fictional, means no harm, and again is solely a
work of fiction. I make no profit from this story. Please read the
story codes above to ensure that you are not going to be offended by,
or otherwise dislike, the content


“Fucking Asshole!”

The cry seemed quiet in the great flat outdoors, lost in the tailwind of the speeding truck and dissipated through heat haze towards distant hills. Gina Carano had been walking from her broken down hire car for forty-five minutes. She had silently cursed the airline that diverted her plane over 200 miles from her destination, and then told her it would be twenty four hours before they could put her on a new plane thanks to a Homeland Security alert. She had cursed the cheap-assed hire company that loaned her such a goddamned unreliable car. Finally, she cursed loudly the one driver she had seen along the road since she started walking, as he disappeared past her towards the horizon.

Coming back to Texas from filming in California for Independence Day 2008 had seemed a real sweet plan for the tough fighter, but since making the plan everything had seemed to be against her. When the hire car had died utterly, she’d checked the map and set out down the road for the nearest town, having reckoned it fifteen miles away. She’d hoped to hitch a ride. Sweat patches stained her dust-grubby white t-shirt, and the outline of her large natural breasts pressed through inside her bra. Her daisy dukes felt too tight on her muscular thighs, and were rubbing her pussy as she walked. She was thankful for decent walking shoes, and her far above average fitness level – but wished she had more water or a cell phone signal, or less practically a James Bond style jet pack.

Another half hour passed before she realised that there was a dust cloud coming out the heat haze of the horizon ahead of her, and a little longer than that before she made out a typical independent garage breakdown truck, with a car crane sticking out the back. Gina waved her arms excitedly as the beaten up rusty vehicle slowed to a halt nearby. The engine sputtered, but the driver didn’t turn it off. She picked up ‘Stomper’s Garage’ written in faded flaming text on the door and the hood.

“Damn,” Gina muttered, as she walked over.

The stench emanating from the truck’s cab hit her full in the face, and she repeated the curse. The driver was hugely obese, 485 pounds of mostly fat. She could see the truck cab had been customised for his huge girth, and got the impression he was pretty tall as well. In fact, he was 6’9″ and sweating like a pig in the hot heat of the summer. He was balding at the front, but the straggly dark remains of a mullet grew from the back and sides of his head. He had a beard matted with food hanging down to his chest. He looked at Gina as she approached, and smiled to show rotten yellow teeth, with the fried remains of his last meal still obvious between them.

“Billy told me he passed a broken down car out this way, and a woman walking towards our fine town of Salvation. Thought I’d drive on out here see if you wanted a mechanic.”

“That son of a bitch could have stopped and brought me into town with him!” Gina replied, politely trying to avoid showing her distaste at the smell.

“Couldn’t. Judge says he ain’t to pick up no more strangers. Well, you getting in or what, missy?”

“Listen asshole, you better drop that missy crap or I will kick your ass with the day I’ve been having!”

“That a fact? Well, sorry Ma’am, old Stomper here is a little behind the times of your niceties. Now you going to get in or we going to fry like eggs?”

Gina fought down the urge to vomit and climbed into the cab. The huge mechanic took up most of it, and she couldn’t fail to miss his hungry eyes running up and down her sweat drenched body. As the breakdown truck sped off down the road towards Gina’s car, wind whistled around the cab and took some of the fat man’s body odour away. It seemed amazing to Gina, after her long walk in the heat of the day, how quickly they ate up the road until they were back to the dusty hire car.

One look at the engine was enough for Stomper to shake his head, and declare it was a garage job. His opinion of the hire company was worse even than Gina’s own. She noticed that the mechanic was a little over a foot taller than her, but seemed a hell of a lot wider. Gina Carano found herself wishing she could give him a good kicking just to teach him to shower and deodorize. She held herself back, realising the heat and run of bad luck was making her a lot angrier and less tolerant than usual. She watched as he hitched her car to the back of the breakdown truck, raising the front wheels from the road. It was only as she climbed back into the cab, and the journey towards the town of Salvation started, that she wished she’d suggested riding back in the hire car.

As the breakdown truck pulled into Stomper’s Garage, Gina was virtually hanging out of the passenger window. Her temper was frayed close to breaking point, and getting worse each time she caught the obese mechanic’s eyes on her breasts rather than on the road. She staggered from the truck and lent against the wall, glad to be in the shade. Gina was surprised to see that, as well as the tools and equipment she might expect, the garage appeared to be filled with fight memorabilia. She realised after a moment that it was pro-wrestling, rather than ‘real fighting’ like she, a Mixed Martial Arts fighter, had never been beaten in (her record in non-MMA fights was almost as impressive).

One of the pictures was a younger, but not much thinner, Stomper with a large golden belt over his shoulder and a Memphis logo in the corner of the picture. His t-shirt read Stomper Mullet, and his hair was truly over the top awful, even for southern-style pro-wrestling. Stomper set about lowering the hire car from the breakdown truck, and talked at the same time,

“Yeah, you seen that? I was going to be the next big thing, I was so over in Memphis… then that bitch, that fucking cunt Luna Vachon fucked up my knees so bad I had to retire early. Cunt did it on purpose after I stiffed her pussy boy goth lover. If I ever get my hands on that pig faced whore now, I’d teach such her a lesson! They’d be finding bits of her all over the south.”

Several retorts flickered through Gina Carano’s mind, about how she didn’t approve of his sexist language, or how his fat ass would probably just get kicked hard again, or how pro-wrestling was all fake anyway. Instead, she said nothing. Biting her tongue, she stood in the garage waiting for her hire car to be fixed so she could get on her way. There wasn’t any proper air conditioning in Stomper’s garage and the small fans about the place didn’t seem to do much.

Meanwhile, Stomper was feeling old anger and bitterness welling up. The tirade against Luna had opened the old mental wounds. He never had a moment’s respite from his knees, and had a stock of both legal and illegal medication to help with the pain. He found himself considering the way Gina held herself. She walked with the same confidence and appearance of strength as Luna had, and he thought about a sly revenge by proxy. All he had to do was give this bitch a drugged drink, have a good grope and maybe blow a load over her face, take a few photos, then clean her up and claim she passed out in the heat.

The hugely fat man waddled through to the backroom of the garage without a word, and took a jug of cool lemonade from the refrigerator. He had some knock out powder he sometimes put in his own drinks at night to help him sleep, and put a good dose in the drink. He dropped in ice cubes from the freezer compartment, and took it back out to the garage, setting it on the shelf next to the girl.

“Here you go, missy. Cool your sweet self off!”

Gina Carano lost her barely hold control on her temper when Stomper called her ‘missy’ again. She pushed away from the wall towards him and waved her fist under his nose,

“Listen to me you fat fuck, I am having the day from hell. Your stinking disgusting shitty misogynistic crap is making it a billion times worse, and if you say another word I will kick so much of the shit out of you, you’d be able to fit through a fucking normal door again!”

“Why you little bitch, I’m a kick your ass for that!”

The fat man was a lot slower and a hell of a lot less fit than the fighter, and she punched him in the face so fast he didn’t even see it coming. Rotten teeth flew from his mouth as his face snapped round, saving him the expense of ever having them removed. Blood dribbled into his beard as Gina followed up with a second blow to Stomper’s flabby face. All of Gina’s frustrations seemed to wash away as she punched up at the taller man. He lashed out with his fist, trying for a gut punch. Gina caught it against her tensely prepared stomach muscles. She barely felt it, dancing back to kick out with a perfectly smooth kick to the side of Stomper’s knee.

“Bitch!” managed Stomper, as pain exploded up his leg.

He fell like a redwood, and the floor shook when he landed. Stomper’s legs kicked as he struggled for breath with the weight of his fat pressing down on his stomach. Gina executed a perfect kick to the groin, and Stomper screamed in a strangled fashion as the fighter finished her demolition with a mocking bow.

“Bye bye fat ass. I’ll be back with a cop to lock you up for trying to assault me!”

Gina flipped Stomper off, and picked up the lemonade, She tossed back the cool refreshing beverage without thinking. The knock-out powder hit as she turned away, and the glass slipped from her suddenly weak fingers. Gina felt her legs going as the world span suddenly around her.

“Oh… no…” she gasped, before falling unconscious on the dirty floor of Stomper’s garage.

When he had recovered enough to lumber back to his feet, Stomper laughed darkly to see Gina Carano’s limp body lying on the floor. There was a slight lisp to his laugh from the missing teeth, but he had stopped bleeding. He secured the garage door, and put up his closed sign, careful to avoid kicking the broken glass around his work area. He fancied he could still see the horrified realisation in the bitch’s face as she slept, while the singing pain in his knee, his face and his groin was all the encouragement he needed to know that she would never leave his garage alive.

He closed a huge fat-fingered hand over Gina’s ankle, and lifted her leg up to waist height. Limping heavily, Stomper dragged the drugged woman across the dirty floor. Her t-shirt bunched up around her neck, revealing her muscular torso and strong sports bra. Stomper decided she was wearing too much clothing – which meant any – and dragged her up onto a rough wooden workbench. He paused to roughly maul Gina Carano’s tits, tugging down her bra to reveal her tanned mounds – clearly, she sunbathed naked.

There was no reaction from Gina, she was out of it and would be for hours yet. He realised he had erred in giving her the dosage needed to put himself out slowly, and so it had hit her much more compact frame with the force of a tsunami and dropped her almost instantly unconscious. Stomper wanted her to feel it when he killed her, but he still wanted some fun in the meantime. He started to strip her, pulling her damp t-shirt up off her torso, then pulled her bra open, and took it off completely. Gina was stripped to the waist, and Stomper moved on to tugging off her shoes and socks, then he moved up her strong legs to her denim cut-off jeans shorts.

He was drooling into his beard as he popped the buttons, and tugged Gina Carano’s daisy dukes down her legs. He put them aside, and noted the damp patch on her panties. She had started to become highly aroused as she beat on him, and he caught a whiff of her pussy even over his ever present body stench. He grinned gappily before tugging her panties down and revealing her neatly trimmed bush. He stared hungrily at her large clit as he dropped her panties onto the clothes pile.

The mechanic’s cock reflected his large hands and 6’9″ height, and was tenting out his work pants into a circus big top. Despite his massive waist, his tool was long and thick enough that he could stroke the end in one of his rough palms. The real punishment would begin when Gina came round, but in the meantime Stomper dragged her around on the work bench until her ass hung over the edge, and her pussy was directly before him. He dropped his pants to his ankles.

Stomper grunted as he gripped the shaft of his cock just below the bloated head, and pressed it between Gina’a warm thighs to her pussy lips. Her arousal from the fight let him press in a little way easily, and soon the swell of his belly obscured his penetration. He was pleased with how tightly her slick channel gripped him, and he pulled her towards him on the work bench. Gina’s legs were spread wide by his bulk, and her labia were stretched around his shaft (thought he could not see that).

The unconscious woman’s eyes were half open, showing dark brown irises. Gina’s mouth was slack, and her lower jaw rocked slightly as Stomper forcefully stretched her cunt, making her take him all. His hairy belly rubbed against Gina Carano’s smooth skin, pressing down on her stomach even though most of his weight was supported on his legs. The fat man had stretched her good, but when his cock was pressed snugly against her bowed inwards cervix, the crown pressed directly against the tiny hole that led into her womb, he still had an inch or two outside.

“Look’t you,” he spat on Gina’s face, “not so tough now are you, bitch? You little whore! You should know how wet you are!”

Stomper spoke for his own excitement. Rather than thrust and pump away at Gina, he kept his tight grip on her torso and moved her on his cock. The rough workbench scratched and splintered against the unconscious woman’s back, and a slightly raised nail head tore into her shoulder. He loved Gina’s total helplessness, and the feeling of her tight warmth wrapped around his often neglected cock. Her body moved limply, like a puppet with the strings cut, as Stomper pushed and pulled her.

Her cunt was juicing up well, and the penetration sounds grew wetter and longer as Stomper dragged her mostly off, and then slammed her back on. Though his victim was unconscious, he could see her nipples hardening while he chest flushed red. Gina Carano’s large breasts rose and fell faster as her body responded to the pussy-stretching pounding she was getting. Her large erect clit was rubbing the length of Stomper’s shaft.

“You filthy little slut! Just like Luna, I bet your ass was anyone’s!”

The unconscious woman’s body reached climax, and Stomper felt an explosion of wetness at his already sweat damp crotch. Her cunt gripped his shaft hard as she came, showing the exercises she used to keep tight. Stomper moved his grip to her tits, and squeezed them hard. Her tanned flesh bulged between his fingers as he exploded against her cervix. He shot three or four strong blasts deep inside her, and as he managed to withdraw a final blast splashed across her stomach and glistening wet bush.

His heart was beating like a speeding train as an incredible sense of peaceful relaxation came over him. Even his constant knee pain faded away for a few moments. His cock softened rapidly, and he had to lean on the bench over Gina. He drooled freely onto her tits while his heart rate slowed, and then managed to tug his pants back up without cleaning himself off. Gina Careno’s incredible level of fitness meant her heart rate had returned to normal long before his, while her cunt had tightened up save for the trail of sperm leaking slowly out.

He flipped Gina over, noticed the gash in her shoulder, and smiled. Taking up a filthy oily rag, he twisted it he could have used it to flick at her ass, and then tied it around her head from behind. The rag was long enough to tie tightly under her hair at the back, and gag her mouth. He thought about his knocked out teeth, and decided he would certainly have to do the same to her, and that wasn’t all. He left her on the bench, and began his preparations for when she woke up.

Gina awoke to an ache in her cunt and soreness in her shoulder, although the scratch had scabbed over during her hours of unconsciousness. Immediately she tasted the nasty rag in her mouth, and found she couldn’t spit it out. She tried to pull it out, and found then that her arms were stretched out behind her, while her lower legs were bent over the edge of whatever she was tied to. Rope bit tightly into her ankles, so much so that she could not feel her feet. There were further loops just below her knees, which were bent on the table’s edge, Her shoulders ached from her arms, which were tied around the wrists and just above the elbows. The rough binding bit into her smooth tanned skin.

She could see the garage’s skylight high above, and stars in the sky. After a few seconds she recalled kicking the redneck’s ass, drinking the lemonade, and the sensation of falling. As she recognised the feeling of dried sperm on her stomach, she formed a very clear idea of what had happened to her, and what was likely to happen to her next. She screamed, but the gag was successful and muffled the sound. A large engine started off to the right, and Gina realised it would easily hide anything further from the ears of outside world. She turned her head and managed to see over her arm to where the redneck mechanic stood, buck naked.

“I had a look at your stuff, Missy. Gina Carano, is it? I looked you up on my computer and found out all about you being a real tough bitch fighting in them there MMA groups. Well, ol’ Stomper Mullet is going to show you just how tough you really are. I’m going to show you that you ain’t worth shit!

Then, as a special treat, I’m going to drop you on that cold, hard, concrete floor, and splash you like I did in the old days. ‘Cept it won’t be no fake splash where I protect you, you gonna get 485lbs of real American hitting you hard! I’m a crush you and rape you again! First though, bitch, I’m going to go to work on that hard body of yours!”

Gina was tough, but she wasn’t stupid enough to not be scared. She was terrified, and pleaded around the gag. Stomper’s hard cock looked like a lethal weapon all of its own, poking out beneath the great girth of the waddling fat man’s belly. His smell was no easier on Gina’s nose, and it seemed to permeate everything around her. There was a tool trolley next to the bench he had Gina tied on, and a battery operated drill with a masonry bit. Stomper picked it up, and moved to stand at the foot of the table. He could see Gina’s leg muscles working against the ropes as she tried to kick him, like she’d kicked his knee earlier.

The drill whined loudly, and the tone of the noise changed as he pressed the spinning bit into Gina Carano’s left knee. Blood spattered instantly as a circle of skin was shredded. She screamed into the gag, and screamed harder as he pressed on the drill. It bored into her kneecap and sent pain shooting up her leg. Gina cried and screamed as the spinning metal passed through and into the flesh of her leg, scratching the ends of the bones beneath her kneecap. Stomper pressed it in until the drill bit was all the way through Gina’s left knee.

He twisted the drill, making the whining bit tear up the ligaments it pressed against, while blood splashed from both entry and exit points around the spinning metal. Gina’s muffled screams were music to the fat man’s ears, and as he withdrew the drill he could tell from her pale face that Gina was in extreme pain. As blood dribbled down her bound leg, Stomper pressed the drill over Gina’s other knee. She shook her head frantically, all composure lost. Fresh blood spattered as the bit cut into Gina’s other kneecap, right through the centre.

Gina Carano’s fists were clenched, and she bit down on the gag as she tried to make herself pass out from the pain. She’d never felt anything like the agony in her knees, and knew it was only going to get worse. Her face was wet with tears, and snot leaked from her nose as she screamed and bit down. Blood leaked from her knee wounds, but there wasn’t anywhere near enough to make her pass out from the loss. Stomper lay the drill to one side on the trolley, and selected the sharpest blade he owned.

Gina’s head was back, so she did not see as he started to slice a circle in the skin around her right breast. The sharp knife cut through Gina’s tanned skin easily, and a bloody line formed behind it. She raised her head to see as Stomper slid the blade under the skin of the actual breast and felt sickened as she saw it come away. Stomper had cleaned killed game before, and flayed Gina’s breast with practiced ease. He took off most of the skin in one peace, including her nipple. Stomper held the large flap of skin across one of his hands, and then wrapped it around his cock.

Gina couldn’t watch as the fat redneck tried to masturbate with her skin, and turned her head away. Stomper found the idea was an erotic one, but in practice bloody skin made a poor jerk-rag. He dropped it, and set about flaying the skin from Gina’s other breast, to give her a matching set. Gina didn’t seem to feel it as much and she thought that her agony had reached a kind of plateaux, that she hurt so badly that whatever else he did to her could not make it any worse. She was wrong.

When Stomper ignited the flame on his blow torch, the light seemed momentarily blinding to Gina. She was still begging incoherently around the gagging rag, and trying not to look at her skinless, nipple-less, cleavage. Stomper revelled in her suffering, and stretched out the moment by moving the blow torch slowly above Gina’s body. He let her wonder where he was going to direct it to burn, before pointing it downwards.

The sickly sweet smell of burning flesh filled the garage as Stomper turned the blow torch onto Gina Carano’s pussy. Her short pubic bush burned away, while her clit fried in its own blood and the soft fat around it. The blow torch flame hissed through a sudden yellow stream as Gina pissed across the table. Stomper moved the blow torch down her labia, crisping her pussy lips. Her piss stream ended suddenly as he seared her urethra shut, melting the hole together. He made sure not to burn too much, so enough nerve tissue remained to sing out in terrible agony. Gina Carano’s cunt blistered and bubbled as Stomper de-activated the blow torch and moved it away.

She was still screaming and crying, so he knew she hadn’t gone into shock. Moving faster, he replaced the blow torch with a heavy hammer. He brought it down hard on Gina’s drilled kneecaps, cracking each one audibly. They split around the drill holes, and he hoped it hurt Gina as badly as his knees hurt him sometimes. Then, he moved up to her head and brought the hammer down hard into her lower jaw. Blood splashed his arm again as her teeth were knocked into her mouth. Gina Carano’s face changed shape under the hammer blows Stomper inflicted on the lower half. Once again, he was careful not to direct any force to where it might knock her unconscious.

Pausing for breath, he stood and listened to the inhuman noises that were all that Gina was capable of making. The gag had been knocked down, and he could see her tongue wiggling against her broken upper teeth. Little spots of white enamel showed through the blood pooling inside Gina’s mouth, and air bubbled through it. Stomper dropped the hammer, and took his blade up again. He sliced through the ropes holding Gina to the work bench, and rolled her over to fall face down on the hard floor. She was quiet for a moment from the impact, and then started screaming again.

He grabbed a long tube of lubricant – as an incredibly obese person he always had uses for it – and squirted a load between Gina’s shaking buttocks. He applied an equal amount to as much of his bloated hard cock as he could reach, before lying across the workbench and pulled himself onto it. It took all his strength will to stand atop the creaking bench and look down on the helpless and mutilated body of Gina Carano. He remembered the adoring crowds in Memphis for a moment, and then splashed down onto Gina’s back.

He nailed the unprotected splash perfectly, and drove most of his near five hundred pounds into Gina Carano’s back. Her flayed breasts burst messily beneath her chest, while her bones shattered and tore through soft tissue inside her. The impact collapsed one of her lungs, and drove bone shards into the other. Fresh internal blood mixed with the darker blood of her jaw as it pooled out of her mouth. Gina Carano had taken her last breath just before her body was crushed between the fat man and the floor, and would certainly die shortly.

There was enough time though to feel Stomper adjusting himself atop her, and then crawling forwards to press his cockhead into her lubricated ass. He used Gina Carano’s shoulders for leverage as he anally raped the dying woman. Her body slid in the fatty mess that had been her breasts as Stomper started humping half his huge cock into Gina’s tight ass. She barely noticed what would normally have been a terrible degradation, her body all-consumed by pain and the crushing weight on her back. Stomper had become so excited while her tortured Gina, that it bare moments passed before he felt his orgasm building.

Gina Carano died in agony on that cold hard concrete floor as Stomper shuddered and climaxed into her suddenly slack ass. He exploded into her corpse as powerfully as he had into her living unconscious body, and momentarily felt the same sense of peaceful elation as he forced the final violation. Gina Carano had been mutilated beyond humanity, and now she had passed into death the experience was almost like ejaculating into a cut of warm meat.

The sense of peace did not last. Stomper Mullet, 485lbs and 6’9″ tall had over-exerted himself. There was an explosion of pain as his heart virtually burst inside his great fat chest, and he passed out atop Gina Carano’s corpse. The fat man died shortly thereafter, releasing a heavy stream of piss into the dead woman’s bowel, which remained stoppered by his cock even after it grew flaccid inside her.

Stomper had been known to shut up shop for a period when his knees got bad, and so the corpses were not found until they had rotted in the Texan summer heat for a week. Pictures of the humiliating tableaux hit the internet, and particularly MMA sites. Gina’s post mortem reputation was hugely damaged amongst fight fans, who all said that she should have kicked the fat bastard’s ass into next week.

End.

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