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Hours later, and Amanda’s flimsy conceptions of the limits of pain had been smashed to pieces. The suffering she felt now as a pig had been inconceivable to her in her previous life as a woman. Her organs were all failing, and her flesh had begun to cook from the inside out. Her brain was no exception, slowly boiling in its own case. She was now insane, with an IQ that was probably lower than a real pig’s. Eventually her lungs ceased pumping, and her thick, boiling blood stopped circulating. Rapidly her brain asphyxiated, and the poor dumb whore finally died and became meat.

Her fat carcass continued to cook for a few more hours, melting the marbling in her muscles to achieve a glorious texture and flavor in her boiled pork. She was a brilliant shade of crimson when her ass stopped farting, and started to whistle in a high tone like a kettle. She was perfectly done.

The pig mask was removed, and the intubation hose vomited out of her mouth like an undulating snake. A dead face with glazed eyes was revealed. Her ass whistle was removed, and a sharp hook penetrated her boiled anus and emerged from her glistening cooked vaginal flaps. Juices dripped from Amanda’s meat as they lifted her high in the air by her perineum. Her heavy meat was hung with all the other dead pigs in her line, ready for transport to the shops.

Housewives busy shopping for choice cuts at the butchers were greeted by the deli window display in the back of the store. Just like Amanda once had, they looked for deals, and quality in their meat, seemingly oblivious to the human suffering that had occurred to bring them their food. They gave no second glances at the pig Amanda unless they wanted to buy a piece of her. She was just an inanimate meat object now, no longer a person worthy of their attention.

Amanda’s pig meat was sliced up for deli sandwiches one limb at a time, and sold for a small premium. Pricier than the rest of the sows she had died with because of the quality of her fatty meat, but still affordable to the housewife on the hunt for a bargain. Day by day her steamed meat was carved off her bones to satisfy hungry domestic consumers, until there was nothing left of what used to be Amanda Sampson but scraps, offal and discolored bones that were tossed without care into the dumpster out back alongside the discarded bones of a hundred other used up meatgirls.

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