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Posted at 12:06 am on May 2, 2017 by: Staphanie McMahon (Womens Champion)

Before the actual crab festoff could begin, they needed the delivery of crabs. (Un)fortunately, Staphanie was more than ready and willing to provide. Sitting in a gynecologist chair on the stage with her legs spread wide, Chane watched in awe as a hazmat team pulled back her blistered, hairy labia and fed a construction garbage chute into the revealed gaping hole. The chute was aimed into an above ground pool that the hazmat team was standing in.

Staph showed no signs of discomfort, rubbing at her clit in pleasure and excitement. A trickle of urine came down the chute, splashing onto the suit of one of the hazmat workers, sizzling against his protective suit. The other team members quickly jumped back and watched as the suit proved to not be enough for the acidic piss, burning through the material into his flesh, causing him to scream in pain. Refusing to stick around any longer, the hazmat team left their wounded man for dead and ran off to the backstage area.

Despite the danger, Chane's curiosity was too strong and he crept up to the open end of the chute, peering into his sister's cavernous vagina. Pulling out a flashlight, he stuck his head into the chute, only to quickly back out as a squeaking bat flew down, buzzing his head before heading up to the rafters.

The longer the chute was in her vagina, the hornier Staphanie got. She rubbed her clit faster, peeing down the chute more until she released the loudest, fishiest-smelling queef on record. This was followed by a low rumble that grew louder until crabs began pouring out of the end of the chute. Chane quickly climbed out of the pool and turned back to watch as a seemingly endless stream of crabs buried the wounded hazmat worker alive and filled the pool until they started falling out of the sides.

As his sister moaned in pleasure, squeezing her inflatable, milky tits, Chane pulled down his pants and started jacking off, quickly cumming on his shoes. Her breathing heavy, Staph looked down at the chute at the crabs, the stream subsiding, more piss and other toxic juices running down the chute onto the crabs.

It was now truly time for the crab festoff to begin. A stack of buckets sat near the stage entrance for the participants. But who was going to show up to chow down?

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