Cuntcrusher

The gears are set into place; the finals stages of purification are
nudged into motion by our pious Pope. The prevention of the second
coming of Christ is now drawing closer to completion. Dissolution of
component forces act together as one - a single congregation tied
together with one purpose in mind: The prevention of Christ’s birth.
Dead are collected and piled to feed the flames of a furnace fire. The
day lit sky is now blackened by the infant ashes. As they rise they
bring us darkness, turning day to night. With the remnants of the
children burning, we begin the last stage. Surviving females are
loaded onto transports and then shipped to our parishes where they’re
tagged, then stripped of their clothing, assigned numbers and then
taken to eugenic controlled concentration camps. This is where they
spend the rest of their pathetic lives. One by one the worms dry out
in the sun at the mercy of their new master. Their existence exhausts
itself without the ability to procreate. Seared onto their heads and
their hands is the mark of The Beast. This holy number, sacred in its
symbolism, now marks the doom of fertility. By the order of the Pope
we condemn them to be neutered with a machine devised to sterilize.
With a hundred tons of force, its name is The Cuntcrusher. Hooks
pierce through their feet, then suspends them upside down to be fed
into the side where they are conveyed to a press of blades. With their
legs pried open, their cunts align. At the flick of a switch they are
sterilized.