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The End

"This is your last chance to see the sky; take it in," my guard told me as we stopped before a security door. There was the sky--a beautiful opalescent pink--but it might have been smoggy yellow for all I cared. My world was ending. He gave a shrug as the door opened, my face forward and unblinking, then pushed the middle of my back, sending me into the complex. My world was ending, and I wanted to forget every last ember of it.

We halted again before a mirrored window and there I was; matted blond fur, green eyes bruised and shadowed, red lips cracked and raw. I didn't like what I saw, but soon I wouldn't be anything at all. In any case, I deserved it; I deserved the suffering and the malnourishment, I deserved the terrible death awaiting me. The eyes though, the eyes that stared back from my reflection, those eyes so full of fear, so haunted. I looked away with a tremble. I couldn't stand looking at myself or even acknowledging my own presence.

A crackly voice came over the grill from the other side of the window, "Julia Canard, aged thirty seven, sentenced to death by... I don't know this word, scaphism? Yes, well, any way; you are sentenced to death for the crime of mass murder. Your execution will commence tonight at twenty two hundred. If you have any last minute testimony or requests, please speak now." I stood mute, turned away, holding my trembling limbs as still as I could, as rigid as stone. "Very well. Officer, escort the prisoner to chamber seventy-six Beta. Do you intend to remain with the condemned?"

"Fuck no, I'm already on O.T. as it is. This sack of shit has had me running across the entire district all day due to some miss-filing." He pushed me toward the cycling lock, then in. I stumbled over the lip and fell face first onto the steel grid floor. He waited until the first door closed and second opened before helping me back to my feet--by grabbing my cuffed wrists and yanking me up off the floor. I shuddered while suppressing a sob; I deserved it, all of it.

The chamber was small, just enough room for maybe four people to stand in around the... the device. I looked away, shaking even harder than before. I didn't want to see, didn't want to think about what was coming. But it was there, present in the room, present in my mind, present in the sick icy dread that gurgled in my bowels. Two were already waiting, well protected in armored encounter suits. Their faces were blank mirrors as well, reflecting my own horrified expression. The guard turned on his heel and left as quickly as he could. I spun as if I might find some solace in his presence, but I caught only a flutter of his cloak in my view before the door snapped shut like the blade of a guillotine.

A hand grabbed my cuffed wrists as my knees began to fail me, and hoisted. There was a clack of muffled metal. I turned my head back to see a cable hooked into those cuffs, a cable that lead straight back toward the yawning maw of the device. I had only the vaguest notion what it was meant to do, something about prolonged suffering and unnecessary torment. The judge had actually grinned as he passed the sentence down. Claustrophobia was my biggest weakness. Not even height bothered me as much as being confined. The thought of prison--even for a few years--had sent me into panic attacks. I thought I had gotten a reprieve when they said immediate execution. The judge's grin haunted me as I stared into that dark maw.

I felt faint and the scene felt unreal; it was like I was watching from somewhere very deep inside and far away. One of the blank faced armored suits was barking at me, it took three times before I finally looked up from the waiting abyss to see the contraption dangling from his glove. Something like a breathing apparatus but with two fat protrusions for the mouth instead of a single bit to bite down on. The final utterance finally got through, "Open your mouth, now. I am authorized to break your jaw if necessary. You will comply."

I did as bidden. His voice was so flat, cold, clinical. This didn't phase him at all, I wasn't a person, I wasn't a life about to be destroyed; I was his day job. The dam broke at last and tears rained down my cheeks as my shoulder's shook helplessly. He didn't notice, or more likely, he didn't care. The rubbery mouthpiece was inserted between my teeth, thicker of the two tubes came to life and squirmed down the back of my throat while the thinner followed a moment later. It was to say the least: unpleasant. My gut heaved and throat burned as I was invaded. It was so fast, so exact, I hadn't a chance to resist; the heaving was cut short as the thickest tube reached my stomach and forced it's way in. My choking ended as the second reached my esophagus, and filled it, sealed it. Then it began to breathe, or more correctly; I began to breathe at the behest of the machine. He had connected the apparatus to the cable and strapped it about my head and neck like a muzzle.

It was uncomfortable; my lungs swelled, then collapsed as they were inflated and deflated mechanically. The rubbery straps bit at my cheeks and bunched at the back of my neck. The cable ran down my spine to my wrists, then away to the dark abyss. What the fuck were they planning on doing? I'd heard horror stories from the jail house, people vivisected, people infected with flesh eating fungus from the feet up, people impaled. The punishment always fit the crime, but they got creative. What the hell could they possibly have in store for me? What could match, let alone surpass my crime?

The clothes came off then. Draw strings pulled free, snaps were undone; it came apart around me without any need to even lift my arms. The chill air hit my naked skin and raised goosebumps. If my arms hadn't been affixed behind my back, I would have tried to cover myself instinctively, as if I could protect myself from their eyes or hands. To my relief, they paid my assets no mind; not that they were particularly appealing at the moment. The skin under my breasts had gotten a crimson rash and I hadn't had a chance to shower in almost two weeks. I was thankful they wore the encounter suits.

I scoffed at myself then, shame over the unwashed stench of my own flesh and worrying about dignity in the face of obliteration. It was so like me, focusing on the wrong thing, the most trivial thing. Had I done the right worrying, people would not have died. Had I focused on what mattered, I would not have earned this execution. I was a damned fool and deserved what ever horror they came up with. Aloud I tried to say, "Please, make me suffer." The words were just huffs and grunts; they didn't reply anyway.

A minute and twenty seconds passed, I knew this exactly, for built into the muzzle was a clock showing the exact time just beyond my nose. Twenty one fifty nine. I had a minute remaining. Gods above, a minute, a single minute, until the end of my world. My knees began to shake and tears blurred my vision of the seconds counting down. I was carefully sat down, a meter away from the funnel like opening behind me. A hose was brought down from above and aimed at me. I looked up, confused and afraid. I looked up in time for a murky orange fluid to splatter out as the hose bucked, then sputter into a continuous stream. I couldn't inhale or exhale, but as the luke warm stream washed over my face the odor managed to reach my nose; sour, sweet, and intensely organic.

I tried to ask what it was, muffled. A second stream splattered against my back as the other used his hose. It was probably bacteria, something really nasty. That would fit with the crime, though not particularly creative. They finished drenching me, then drenched the pit behind, coating the funnel completely. Lubricant I wondered? There was no more information.

The clock rolled over to twenty two hundred, the cable began to withdraw into the darkness. The slack was taken up steadily until my arms were pulled toward the pit. I started to fall, but strong hands caught me. And pressed me flat to the floor. My shoulders ached fiercely as arms were raised from behind. They popped a mere second apart, and dislocated. I tried to scream, but the air was being forced into me at that moment, silence. Both blank face-plates stared down at me as I writhed in mute agony. The cable drew taut, I was hauled head first toward the darkness. The pair guided my nude body in, not letting me fall, only slide steadily down. Above my head the abyss waited, then began to swallow me; hands, wrists, elbows, then my head fell below the level of the floor and the world vanished.

I began to panic. Not just a little panic, not just the result of impending doom and suffering, nor the result of my horribly painful dislocated shoulders. Not simply an existential crisis afflicted me, but pure unbridled terror as the funnel closed into a tight, compact pipe made of something slightly flexible and slippery. It stretched around my shoulders, compressed in against my face and chest. I was pulled down, millimeter by millimeter, ever so slowly as my arms were pulled to the limits of their tensile strength and beyond. Then it stopped. My hips remained outside, within the mouth of the funnel. The tension on my arms stopped, released, though the flexible pipe held them firmly in place. Desperately I tried to squirm free as I breathed in enforced calmness. I wanted to scream, to hyperventilate, my diaphragm clenched and sucked, but was helpless in the face of the mechanically forced air.

Something touched my thigh and I halted, still as stone. Something... it was a hand, just a hand, armored and gloved. My thighs were pushed open and something circled each knee then clicked closed. My thighs were spread and locked in place against the funnel sides. My ankles followed shortly thereafter, tucked down and folded against my rump. I was exposed, helplessly exposed. Were they going to rape me? That had nothing to do with my acts, nothing to do with the horror I'd unwittingly inflicted upon thousands. No matter, if they wanted to put my body to use, so be it; so long as I suffered!

A finger pressed between the cheeks of my ass, he smeared away the hosed on wetness, then prodded my anus. I clenched involuntarily, focused entirely upon his hands, trying so desperately to ignore the dark confines that pressed in all around me. Something nudged at my bowels, cold and hard. He pushed, my sphincter gaped around it, then closed again behind. Within I felt the hardness shift, readjust itself. It filled me and stretched until I felt like my poor bowels might rip, then it sputtered. A moment of jerking and wet sputtering followed before the flow steadied and began to fill my colon. It was body temperature, so I barely felt it--but for the steadily increasing pressure.

The flow rate tapered off as the pressure increased, but it never quite stopped. My bowels gurgled unpleasantly, the urge to evacuate was intense enough to distract me from the claustrophobia, for a time at least. But couldn't do anything to reduce the agony in my shoulders. I remained there, watching seconds click by, then minutes, ten, an hour. My bladder was full to bursting; I held it as long as I could but in the end I pissed myself, just a few spurts. I could feel urine raining down on my thighs and groin. No one was there, and nothing washed it off. My skin began to itch even worse where the urine had landed and been absorbed. Another half hour and my bladder was ready to rupture once more. I gave up holding it; piss pooled in and around my hips and groin.

The pressure continued, sliding downward through my intestines. My stomach bloated, swelled against the mouth of the pipe. The cramping was worse than the worse period, worse than a cervical dilation, but was it worse than the gut pain my victims had suffered? That thought made me focus on the pain, crave it with a deep hunger full of self-hatred. I wanted them to rupture my gut, splatter my intestines in a fountain of flesh and gore from the pipe. That wasn't what they were doing though, at least, I didn't think so. My large intestines filled to the brim and over flowed into my small intestines. Pressure was growing in my stomach as the intestinal content backed up into my stomach.

That was the purpose of the throat tube it seemed, for as the pressure grew, I could feel it slosh and vibrate. They pumped my stomach clean as I was filled from the back, forward. The cramps only grew worse as time and flow progressed. It felt like a knife just under my ribs, like a fire burning below my heart. I squirmed in agony, I writhed in desperation, I tried to scream, I tried to escape. I tried anything; all futile. They had me so confined, so invaded, that I couldn't even choke to death on my own vomit.

Five hours had passed when the cramping stopped, when the flow of fluid had entirely filled me. My bladder drained endlessly, my kidneys worked over time to process the intense deluge. The rate of flow increased... increased until the stomach pump was under constant use, until I could feel my insides being abraded and tugged by the stream of fluid. It was a whole new form of torture; I was exhausted, it was three in the morning and I'd been up since five, and the constant vibration and rushing through my entire body had every nerve on end.

By four the flow stopped, then began to reverse. I was sobbing in discomfort at first as a new wave of cramping began. It was like being flossed end to end over the course of a day. Back and forth, every six hours they shifted direction. The funnel above me was mid thigh full of urine, it sloshed every time I moved or the hose bucked. Was this how they were going to kill me? It didn't make any sense! I was so tired, so confused, so uncomfortable. Adrenaline had faded hours ago, panic had turned into a strange form of nervousness that kept me twitching and unhappy. In other words, I was growing complacent.

Twenty two hundred the next day, and I still awake, they stopped_flossing._ The hose detached from my aching, bruised anus with a jerk. My bowels continued to vent in a fountain between my thighs for a good twenty seconds as exhausted stomach muscles cramped and seized. The flow into my stomach slowed to a trickle; which I only knew was there because of the occasional buildup in my stomach followed by a cramp inducing gurgle and gush. I at last fell asleep to endure nightmares even worse than the one I lived.

I woke to confusion, panic, disorientation, and nausea. My stomach ached, my head throbbed, my shoulders were in utter agony still, and even joint felt dislocated. Before my eyes the numbers swam, bouncing and jiggling as if alive. They had been white, but now seemed enveloped in a blurry halo of prismatic color. Nothing felt right and I couldn't place a finger on why. I'd awoken because there was someone touching me, a hand on a knee, that was all. That hand felt like ice, and it drilled into my awareness to draw as much focus as I could spare. Then the hand went away, leaving me in isolation once more, horrible isolation.

There was a splash between my thighs, then another. Something soft and sticky brushed against my pubic mound before drifting past. More somethings splashed into the filthy puddle above me. I arched against the pipe, tried to jerk my knees free of their bindings; I couldn't move at all, the flexible pipe had hardened while I slept, only a space from my now deflated belly to swell into remained, and into that--one of those squishy things slithered and drifted across my navel. I shuddered and failed to scream for the nth time, it was alive, and it was moving.

The blurred, squirming clock ticked away the seconds until I felt another something wriggle its way between the folds of my itching vulva. I could feel it moving, with little hair like limbs dragging it along, with it's mucous coated body winding back and forth to push and nuzzle in. It tried my urethra, tried to and succeeded. No matter how hard I clenched, or how much piss I forced out, it pushed on and in through the short path to my bladder. It hurt too, thick as it was, and how sensitive my irritated passage.

The thing wasn't alone either. At first only a handful, then dozens began to crawl and writhe their way into me. Urethra first for the one, but another plucked at my anus with it's little legs, and though I clamped down, it nuzzled right on in and I could soon feel it wriggling into my bowels, crawling along the inner flesh. My vagina fared no better, and within minutes I felt a cramp like agony as it pushed its way through my cervix, stretching the tiny hole until it bled. Then more and more invaded me, until every hole, every inch of my groin was crawling and squirming.

The movement was ceaseless, an irresistibly invasive sensation. I felt myself flush and squirm, felt sweat bead upon my skin with the throb of adrenaline. I felt them swarm one another where ever they found themselves, I felt them--breed. I'd studied parasites enough to know what the intended outcome was, it was my livelihood after all; genetic engineering. I'd worked on corrective genetics for numerous species over the years, rescued endangered animals, insects, and microbes by forcibly adapting them to their environments. These, whatever they were, were perfectly adapted to their environment; me.

Hour by hour my stomach began to swell again. I hadn't needed to pee in all that time, and the level of filth around my thighs had lowered significantly while the rate of flow up my throat had increased. The breeding frenzy was a wild churning through the entire extent of my torso, and the number of eggs they had to be laying was astounding. For the first time in two days, my bowels clenched on real content; colon full to the brim and anus stretched helplessly open... I clenched and nothing came out. It ached fiercely, and I had to evacuate so bad that it made me panic over something entirely other than confinement and parasites! The rest of my belly fared no better, womb and vagina packed solid, bladder swelled until it felt like I was going to piss myself.

The rate of feeding increased, the hose tube in my throat pulsed and jerked as nutrients were forced up my throat. The pain in my gut grew and grew until--something popped. It was not a terribly painful sensation, few nerves in the location, but sweat beaded up, I flushed, and a dreadful horror clawed at my heart. That faint pop had been the sensation of my intestinal wall giving way. My stomach swelled further as contents readjusted into my body cavity. There was another rupture not long after, this one however took place in my colon and vagina--the flesh separating them split. It was a slow thing, an incredible pressure building and building in both passages until, as I struggled and clenched and desperately attempted to expel or contain; the flesh simply gave way with a white hot shock of agony.

Minutes passed, then hours. Hours of suffering, of punishment, of excruciating execution. Was it worse than what any one of my victims felt? Most likely, at least their suffering was brief. Was it worse than what all of them had felt collectively? No, there was no comparison. I needed worse, I needed so much worse.

Two days later, after more ripping and popping, after more and more eggs had filled my body cavity; I got it. I felt them hatch, the first few, I felt them come to exquisite life, for the first of them had been laid near the surface, in colon, vagina, and bladder. The eggs squirmed and bounced, little vibrations multiplied by millions. Then the eggs popped, faint little clicks and sputts I could just barely hear. Then the newly hatched began to wriggle free and feed. They fed on anything they could reach with their hungry mouths and little limbs. Hair fine and smaller than a poppy seed, it wasn't a rapid violence.

I jerked against my bonds as flesh was woven through by freshly hatched hungering parasites. Little tunnels burrowed in my vaginal walls, through my colon, into the muscle, through the lining of my bladder, through my pubic mound. It itched and burned, it was insufferable, and it was growing worse as more and more eggs hatched. Each second that ticked before my eyes, was an eternity. Each new hatching brought a new and deeper wave of stinging and burning. Nausea grew, horror was complete, my mind quailed as my pubic mound moved and heaved with all of the squirming life below the skin. I could feel it, feel skin shift and throb, feel the muscle, tendon, and nerve melt away under the hungering onslaught.

At last my bowels gave way as my sphincter fell apart, and with an audible sputtering gurgle, the living mass spilled free of my lower intestines. The evacuation fountained into the air and splattered against my knees, thighs, and filled the funnel with writhing parasitic life. My flesh began to itch and burn where ever the contents landed, as tiny hatchlings began to feed and burrow. My hips bucked and legs jerked. Stomach muscles clenched and bowels continued to spill, but I was helpless. The hatching reached my upper intestine, the pain behind my navel was incandescent and inescapable, and it continued down, toward my stomach.

The flow in my throat increased until I felt it splattering and bubbling between my intestines, gushing from the many tears. My stomach had already swelled as much as it could in the confined space and so occasionally a fresh fountain would billow up between my legs from the ruined flesh that had once been my pubis. There was no sphincter, no vagina, no urethra left, nor labia or clitoris, there was just a gaping wound straight into my body cavity, that occasionally vomited up another spray of parasites and fluid. I imagined the blood, the gore, but all I had were sensations.

I was broken, body and mind, perhaps even soul. My eyes were fixed on the clock, watching each second pass like an eternity. I wanted to die, wanted the suffering to end. I didn't want to endure another minute, another hour, another day... It didn't end. My heart still beat, albeit fast and unsteady, blood still flowed through my neck, into my brain. My lungs continued to breathe, forced to by the machine. I would die, it was certain, but when? It couldn't come to soon.

I remembered vividly the first victim, the poor girl I'd been experimenting on. The experiment had held such promise, she'd been so eager and yet so nervous. I'd pressed the injector into her cervix and depressed the plunger. She'd winced at the insertion and at the injection had told me, "Goodness that's cold!" with a fluttery, blushing grin. Then the new microbiota had gone to work, fixing her reproductive issues; or so I'd thought.

I hadn't been there, I might have saved them all, I'd been so busy wining and dining, so busy celebrating prematurely. Maybe if I'd left an open line of communication, at the very least, but I'd shut off my mobile. The news feed had been running in the other room though, while I rode my new boyfriend like a prize stallion. I was coming down from my second peak of pleasure when I caught a stray image out of the corner of my eye; my lab on the news. At the very least, I should have been there, should have died with them.

My bowels clenched and something detached, a flap of colon perhaps, or length of intestine... I felt it jet from my ruined body cavity to land on a knee, writhing with parasites. I knew my pelvic bone had to be exposed, I could feel nothing from my inner thighs anymore, only a bone deep ache and the constant searing of little mouths eating me alive. Why hadn't I died yet? This much trauma... Perhaps there was a coagulant or something intermixed with what ever they were feeding me. "Fucking creative bastards--just kill me already!" I wished I could scream.

That poor girl though; I'd watched her on video before they figured out who was responsible. I'd tried to get to the bottom of it, tried to solve it myself, but it was too big. I watched her wake in the middle of the night, clutching at her stomach. She'd hobbled to the bathroom, a bathroom connected to the outside sewage system. She'd died on the toilet, her uterus, colon, and half her intestine pouring from both holes as she clutched her knees and screamed. It had been intended to remove just the fibroid tissue, I'd warned her there might be some bleeding, some pain. Life always found a way though, they ran out of fibroid tissue and started dying off, the microbes. A few though, a few mutated, a few figured out how to eat any tissue. It was worse than the worse flesh eating bacteria, nothing on record even remotely so ravenous or persistent.

Had she not flushed the toilet midway through, had the septic system not been connected to the city sewage, had the rain not been so heavy as to overflow the treatment plant... So many variables. Fourteen million people infected, not one survivor. It attacked the reproductive system first, then moved on into the digestive tract. It could survive on the skin for up to a week, and could lay secreted in the reproductive system for up to a month, until it ran out of it's favorite nutrients. Once the infection turned outward, it was a matter of hours before death. A perfect plague.

I shuddered as my stomach shifted, just above my ribs. skin tore and allowed a splatter of parasites and liquefied flesh to flow down over my breasts. It wasn't long now, I knew, as my breasts began to itch and burn, as larger forms squirmed and burrowed; or so I'd thought. Within an hour, the feeding frenzy had stopped. The young had grown to full size, their hunger satiated. Another few hours ticked by second by second as my flesh healed a little and the brutal itching faded to a memory. Then another frenzy began again, breeding. They were everywhere now, I could feel pockets of eggs swelling in breasts, in thighs, behind my ribs, in my very stomach.

Two more days progressed as the breeding continued, then stopped. I was a loose cocoon surrounding trillions of tiny eggs, I was a mother, pregnant with my own mortality. I was broken inside. I no longer wanted to die, I wanted to breed more and more, I wanted to feel the life gush from every hole. I dreamed it, I fantasized, I woke to orgasms echoing through my phantom vagina. I had trouble separating reality from fantasy, dream from reality, and pleasure from pain. They were drugging me, I was sure, though I couldn't for long contemplate the thought, or understand why. Or perhaps it was a buildup of noxious compounds in my blood; my kidneys had ruptured days ago after all, who knows how much was left and still working. I was probably in desperate need of dialysis.

The hatching happened right on schedule. The sensation was the same, though deeper, and in new places. Little pops and spluts followed by the stinging and itching as parasites burrowed into flesh. Minute by minute the agony increased until clarity returned, albeit tenuous and fuzzy. It was a clarity of my own horror and mortality, and it came as I felt my heart shudder, stop, then start again. Then I felt an itching in my throat a few minutes later, an itching that grew to a burning pain. A moment or two later, blood and mucous began to spill down my throat, into my sinuses and mouth.

Every breath was a labored, bubbling hell. I could feel air wriggle it's way up through my ruined body to escape between my legs. Breaths never stopped though, no mater how much fluid was sucked up the tube, then spat back out. After a while of that, the air shifted, and flowed only out, filling my lungs as fast as they deflated. Bubbles squirmed and tickled their way up between my ribs, over my spine, burst between my thighs... but oxygen intake was drastically lowered. I felt my vision disappearing, bit by bit while my mouth filled with blood and soon, squirming life. My tongue and cheeks, lips and gums were next, itching and burning. I didn't even try to bite or smash, I just let them feed.

My heart stopped again, my vision faded to gray around the edges and shrank. I had to dart my eyes back and forth to get the whole of the clock, desperate to watch the seconds pass by though I could not have told anyone why. Then it started again, briefly and full clarity returned. For a long minute, seventy two and a half seconds or so--I counted--my heart continued. Then at last, the parasites ate their way in and it stopped for good.

Only someone who has experienced a heart attack can know the feeling of it, the lack of blood flowing, the rapid oxygen loss through your extremities, the fading of your thoughts and vision. I struggled, kicked, twitched and jerked. Tiny mouths ripped at my flesh, tunnels threaded around bone, through membrane and muscle. I could feel them, hear them even in the silence of my own heart as they gnawed and swallowed. "I should have asked for a final meal," I tried to say, thinking of missed opportunities. All I tasted was sweet, sour, and pain.

Millions of people infected, infecting their loved ones through sex, through kissing. A diaper changed and your infant was doomed to die. Send your child off to school, and they came home infected and condemned the entire house. There had been talk of evacuating earth, waiting in space for the plague to burn itself out. Didn't they know it was already too late? I'd seen the truth of that when it jumped species into rats, cats, dogs, even roaches. Every city was infected. If you weren't yet, you would be soon. I'd seen people die in jail, clawing at their stomachs as their intestines liquefied. I'd just wanted to cure a few women...

"Time of death, fourteen thirty nine. Execution complete," a voice echoed above, barely audible. I wanted to tell them, I wasn't dead yet. But that wasn't true, my heart had stopped, my vision had gone black, and my senses were fading. My world was ending at last--I felt a brief flutter of relief.

-

Up above, no one stirred, in fact, no one lived. The second mutation had taken less than forty hours to spread across the globe; the bacterium had gone airborne. There were still a few living, a few animals yet resistant, a few people in isolation. No one was there however, to witness the death of Julia Canard, she had outlived over ninety nine percent of the human race. Upon the tarmac in the near by launch facility sat two dozen hastily built launch vehicles. One lifted on a column of flame, the others would never rise.

The world had ended.