I was called early the next morning. The TV company had completed some feedback surveys immediately after my show. They overall impression had been positive, with viewers especially enjoying the victims struggle and fear. However, there was a significant minority who had been slightly uncomfortable with the youth of my daughter. They felt they would like to see an older woman meet her fate. I imagine they really meant they felt awkward getting a hard on when the victim looked like an innocent virgin who had recently left school.
I took that on board. I had already put in position the evidence to convict my wife, but I didn't want every show to feature my family members - I was in danger of running out of them! She could wait. I had to think about a woman more my own age, one I knew and would be able to frame quickly and efficiently.

The answer came to me as I made my second cup of coffee. A middle aged woman who I knew and had a hatred for. One I knew enough about to ensure she could be fitted up, and one who would entertain the audience as.she died.
Sara!
A friend of my wife, she was also the stepmother of my daughters best friend. She fitted the bill perfectly. Aged 45. Recently involved with the police over a dispute with a work colleague, and enough of a feminist and Liberal snowflake to enrage the audience for her execution.
She was a big woman, easily 18 stone, but she carried that weight well, and her round face looked just right for her body shape. She had a huge pair of tits (i had raided her underwear draw when house sitting for her and discovered her bra size was 42H), and an arse to balance them.

I arranged a spurious reason to pop round to her house on the Monday morning. She was still wearing her nightclothes when I arrived, a pair of pink pyjama bottoms and an oversize grey tshirt. She clearly wasn't wearing a bra, and her giant nipples were obvious pressing against the cloth of her top. I was already thinking about how she could die, and what method would show off those massive jugs the best.
It was the work of a moment to excuse myself to use the bathroom, sneak into her home office and plant the letter I had faked the previous evening. A quick text to my tame police inspector and the boys in blue were knocking on the door before she had begun her fourth biscuit.
They knew where to look - I had told them - and they wasted no time in cuffing the fat cunt and leading her out of the house and into the waiting van. It was left to me to explain to her stepdaughter what was happening when she appeared from her room to see what the commotion was. She was the complete opposite of her stepmother, young and skinny, with the body of a girl several years younger than her actual age of 18. I filed her away in my mental list of potential victims, but she, like my wife, would have to wait.

The next time I saw Sara was after her trial, which had taken place on the Tuesday morning. The case was open and shut, the letter proved she had tried to influence the lawyer dealing with her recent problems, and that was enough for the TV company's tame judge to convict her. He sentenced her to death. It was up to me to make it happen.
It was Wednesday afternoon when I arrived at the prison and approached the condemned cell. She sat on her plank bed, still in the same pink trousers, but wearing only a prison issue bra. It was clearly too small, and the spare flesh from her huge udders spilled over the top and out of the sides. Her fat stomach hung over the waistband of her filthy trousers. She had clearly been crying, but when she saw me she tried half to pretend that she was coping fine.
"Hi Sara. This is a mess you've got yourself into"
"I suppose. It's all a mistake though. They had a letter but I didn't write it. My lawyer is going to get it checked and discounted, then they'll have to let me go"
I laughed.
"I wrote the letter Sara. I planted it in your office. And your lawyer works for the TV company. He needs you to be guilty so we can kill you on Saturday. You aren't escaping this. You are already dead"
As I said the last four words I stared straight into her eyes, and relished watching all hope leave them. She knew she had been betrayed. She knew she would die. And the best bit was, I got to tell her exactly how she would be killed"

The crew had to work frantically from Wednesday to Saturday morning to build the equipment I had requested, but my lunchtime it was all in place. I spent the afternoon testing the mechanisms to ensure they would work properly when the time came. I was satisfied that all was well, and I went to pay a visit to Sara, on her last day on earth.
I had given her a full run down of how she would die on the Wednesday, and the initial shock had looked like it would kill her there and then. But she had had a few days to think about it, and I hoped the terror had really got to her by now. I wasn't disappointed.
I found her crouched in the corner of her cell, rocking back and forth. She had had her pink trousers taken away, and she still wore the too small bra and now only a pair of white prison issue knickers. When she saw me she roared and charged at the bars. I took a step back and laughed at the pathetic sight of this fat whale trying to intimidate me. She looked so pathetic, the flab under her arms flapping as she tried to shake the bars.
"I see you ate taking it well Sara. Not long now and it will all be over. And at least for a short while you will have lost some weight before you die"
"FUCK YOU!" she yelled and I walked away laughing. I was quite excited about what I had in store for her. And it wouldn't be long now!

At 6.30 I returned to her cell with the film crew and we began to make preparations for her execution. She had been dressed as I requested in a white shirt buttoned at the front, with no bra underneath. She had been given a clean pair of knickers, but this time a smaller size to accentuate her fat gash. I had with me two burly prison guards who took hold of her roughly and began to drag her from her cell towards the execution room.
"For God's sake show some dignity Sara. Can you not face your death with more decorum. It's like killing a wild cow at the moment"
I hadn't expected anything, but my words did seem to focus her slightly. She gave me a terrible glare. But she did begin to walk slowly towards the door, through which her fate awaited.

On entering the room she let out a giant scream, for she saw exactly what had been prepared for her. On the platform were three chopping blocks, each with an axeman standing by them. Infront of two of the blocks was a strong steel rope. At one end was a large meathook. And at the other a winch. The third block had a simple wicker basket infront of it, and a 5 foot high metal spike standing to one side. Each block had its own designated camera to capture all the action.
The program had begin as soon as Sara had opened the door, and the camera followed her as she walked slowly onto the platform. I followed her, along with the two guards, incase she tried to resist too much.
Sara stood motionless on the platform, next to the first chopping block. She scanned the crowd, and made eye contact with her husband, two sons and her stepdaughter. Her younger boy gave her a weak smile and she tried to return it, but the fear written over her face made it look more like a cry for help.
I stepped over to her and began to unbutton her shirt. I pulled it open and her colossal breasts spilled out. The crowd gasped at the sight, huge and covered in stretch marks, her tits had large pink nipples and darker areola. She stood naked except for her tiny panties. I noticed a damp patch begin to form at the front of those knickers, which soon became a flood of piss cascading down her fat thighs and splashing into the floor. The crowd revelled in her humiliation, and I enjoyed the look of complete despair on her face.
It was time to begin.
The guards positioned her infront of the first block and kicked the back of her knees so she knelt behind it. I grabbed the meat hook and slowly forced its tip into her left breast, just above the nipple and through the fat until it reappeared from the underside. She screamed and gurgled in agony as the winch began to whirr and the steel rope.pulled her breast tight over the block.
She closed her eyes as the axeman moved into position raised his weapon and brought it down with all his force into her tender flesh. Sara let out a blood curdling scream. The axe had sunk into her fat pit. But not through it. The axeman pulled it free and struck her again. Another sickening splash was followed.by a howl of pain. But still her udder remained attached by half its skin and flesh. The third blow left just a flap.of skin connected to her body, and he skillfully took a knife from his pocket and sliced away her breast from her body. A hot iron was used to cauterise her bloody wound so she didn't bleed to death, and she was dragged back into her feet, her remaining breast looking very strange on its own next to a.giant red smoking scar.
The crowd had loved it, and I hoped the TV audience was reacting similarly. Sara clearly wasn't having as much fun, and her tears and snot fell.freely down her face and onto her wounded chest.
We slowly moved her over to the second block and again attached the hook. I think knowing what was coming made it worse for the poor cow.this time, and she screamed and yelled as the axeman again took three blows to remove her second tit.
She was dragged onto her feet again. I couldn't help laughing at the state of this bitch, who until recently hated all men, but now was begging this man to.end her life as quickly as possible.
"If you want to die Sara, you had better get your head on this block" I laughed.
The crowd began chanting "Cut it off. Cut it off"
She stumbled over to the third block and knelt behind it. She paused only to ask the axeman to do a.clean job, then placed her neck on the block and shut her eyes.
"OPEN YOUR EYES YOU FAT CUNT" yelled the cameraman who was tasked with filming her face as she lost her head. She did as she was told.and.looked straight into the camera as the axe fell onto her fat neck. It didn't quite make it all the way through her flesh, and the cameraman was treated to a shower of.blood which sprayed from her open mouth. Quickly, putting his foot on her back, he yanked the axe from her neck and brought it down again. This time her.head fell into the basket, and her mutilated body slipped backwards onto the floor. Another pool of piss formed around her pussy, and blood spurted from the stump.of her.neck.
I reached I to the basket, and lifted up her severed head to the crowd. I made sure to make.eye contact with her stepdaughter, who looked as if she might faint with the shock. I mouthed to her "You next baby" and winked at her. Then with a squelch I pushed the head down onto the spike, Sara's wide eyes betraying the agony of her final momments. There was a lot to clean up but that wasn't my job. Her family had been told.if they wanted the body then they had to clean the stage first. I noticed that her husband and her boys had already begun to mop her blood from the floor, and collect her severed breast meat. The head was not for them though. I would have that delivered to her stepdaughter in a couple of days.

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