Rosalia closed her eyes. Jesus Christ, it was the most awful thing she'd ever seen in her life. One second Amelia had been screaming in her mechanical prison... the next, she'd been reduced to tiny wet red cubes of meat and bone.

And then it was Rosalia's turn to die.

The automatic processor pulled her thick, latin body tightly into its cold steel embrace.

She prayed to the lord silently in her head, though she knew this had to be the domain of the devil. This place was Hell.

Rosalia looked at the blue information screen as it lit up with a picture of her, her name, age... her meatgrade... and her processing method.

The word flashed up at the bottom of the screen once the machine had finished scanning her.

SPITROAST.

What? Spitroast... like a suckling pig? So that was how she was going to die?

A thick metal pole with a rounded tip lined itself up with her asshole and started slowly pushing into it. She thrashed as it tore past her sphincter.

Fuck, it was like that porno pic that Anabelle had shown to all the girls during that slumber party in the dorms. Except that the girl in that film seemed to like getting things pushed up her ass... Rosalia didn't know how that was possible. The pain from the stake was so bad. It was like taking the biggest most constipated shit of her life, only in reverse and ten times worse.

The spit penetrated deep inside her ass and up into her intestines, stretching them until they tore and let the pole pass.

Rosalia burst into tears. She could feel her organs shifting to the side to accommodate the large rod. Her heart skipped a beat as it was compressed and relocated in her chest.

She sniffled and sobbed quietly as the chrome stake filled her throat and exited her mouth. Her eyes crossed to look at the tip protruding from between her pearly white teeth.

Oh, God, she was impaled from ass to mouth, squirming uselessly on its full length...

It took a while for the true horror of it all to sink in. She was still alive. Oh, god she was still alive!!!

She'd thought that being impaled would kill her, sparing her from what was going to happen next, or that the machine would cut her throat or something.

Rosalia shivered as she realized that she was about to go over an open fire, spitted like a pig, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She was going to be roasted alive.

The conveyer carried her lovely spitted body along toward the roasting pits, moaning and jerking pathetically on the pole as she gurgled for help.