Warning, this historical fantasy contains references to fucking and fucking machines and contains four letter words and any resemblance of any characters to any person living or deceased is entirely unintentional.

In addition it contains folk getting strapped down with leather straps and there's Snuff, Prostitutes and steam valves, and the Dowager lady McNeedle and Mini Carr getting machine fucked, and eccentrics and split pins and the horrific though slightly comical bloody death of one of the Characters, all told in a homely light slightly comic though essentially north of England style which bring Hecklesdyke and the Old Bath Road Foundry of the pre Victorian era to life.

Bob Stephenson's Torture Machine by Mustafa Fuch.

"Has tha got steam up, Jerry?"

"Yes Mr Stephenson" the fresh faced youth agreed.

"Then blow whistle and let the boogers know us is ready lad." he suggested, and so started one of the most dramatic and little reported incidents in the history of human torture.

It all started when General Mendoza's men intercepted the "Mayflower," one of Cyril Hardacres Gateshead based barque rigged Colliers off Cadiz, and there in the hold was Lady Merywhether's twin cylinder self starting 6inch stroke Stephenson's patent integral boiler double acting coal fired deluxe fucking machine.

As you know Mendoza was having severe difficulties extracting confessions from his enemies and folk what was in wrong place at wrong time, around that time so the machine excited him until he realised what it was, and then he realised the possibilities, the trouble was it was a double acter, that is with cunt and ass penetrators which worked either in phase or in opposition or at any of 20 positions at 18 degree intervals merely by pulling out the split pins, undoing eight nuts pulling out eight bolts twisting the eccentric on the crankshaft so the bolt holes lined up again and refitting the bolts and nuts and letting it run for ten minutes before tightening the bolts again and fitting new split pins, barely an hours work for a skilled engineer or fucking machine fitter.

The trouble was there was no easy way to use the double acter on a Gentleman, see it were a Ladies only machine, de luxe with fucking plungers for both the reproductive orifice and the ass very efficacious as described for the avoidance of children and disease in women but without any way to declutch either of the fucking plungers it was not intended for usage in a Gentleman only situation, unless you could get both fucking plungers up their ass at one time and that was not easy when smallest adaptor for the fucking plunger was a two and a half inch on account of the two inch thread on the fucking plunger shaft, if you tried it the spare fucking plunger flailed around and whacked hell out of the blokes bollocks as like as not.

And that's where Bob Stephenson got his big break, see he was working at the Stephenson family Yorkshire foundry and manufactory in Old Bath road Hecklesdyke testing the pig shit for consistency for the sand casting moulds with stop clock and two inch rod, when Mendoza's man Senor Achates came round on a typical grey over cast wet and windy Yorkshire summers day.

He looked a right prat with his knee britches and big floppy hat, a right nancy boy, shirt lifter you know, he had to hire a gang of ten blokes from Brandex washing powder factory as body guards just to get through Hecklesdyke market because the tarts thought he were setting up in opposition.

"I vont zee ting for fucking up zee prisoner." he explained, to Iris Catthorpe, one of the testers who was on light duties on reception desk after a double acter on test snapped its extension rod three inches up her cunt at sixty seven revs per minute and poked it out of her belly in twenty seven different places before they could jam a sprag in flywheel and stop it.

"Any booger speak Lancashire!" she asked derisively and Bob came running because he fancied his self as a Linguist and somehow Achates made his self understood, well nearly because it took three days of seeing every variation of current production fucking machines being tested by Elsie Tatlock, Mini Carr and the Dowager Lady McNeedle, the regular testers except Lady McNeedle was just filling in for Iris while her butler had a dose of Le Clap Francais.

Senor Achates made it clear that what he desired was not a fucking machine for pleasure but a machine for torture, sommat to "fuck them up good so they was fucked" he explained as his grasp of Yorkshire improved. .

Bob immediately realised there was a whole new market, as yet untapped, and he sat right down with Achates to design the Tortufuk, a single acter which he made completely dual purpose with attachments to please a Gentleman or indeed a Lady one orifice at a time in addition to the torture attachments.

Now you all know what a standard Stephenson Double fucker looks like, them green ones like in the Science Museum, well if you imagine the crank box scaled up and an eccentric crank pin so as it would give the patented Stephenson "fucking " anything from a four inch to a one foot stroke adjustable at quarter inch increments just by pulling out eight split pins, undoing eight nuts and pulling out eight bolts through a hole in crank box, twisting the eccentric crankpin in the flywheels before refitting the bolts and nuts and letting it run for ten minutes before tightening the bolts again and fitting new split pins, barely an hours work.

Now when they tested the Tortufuck with the long stroke setting Bob had a bit of an issue with getting a tester, until they got hold of Ernie Chattlethorpe what won the Northumbrian all comers cock championship three years running with eleven and seven eights and his wife Mildred. Now Mildred were sort of bashful, and sort of were very cagey about how much of Ernie's cock she could take until after a few gallons of Newcastle Brown Ale she admitted she couldn't take Ernie properly but her housemaid Glenys could and she did him up her backside every Friday and up the cunt on Bank Holidays when they had a bit more time to get her warmed up.

Any road they got Glenys down to Old Bath road manufactory, although actually they chucked the old bath away years ago,but the name stuck, and they got her rigged up and gave it a go.

Now they gave a young lad be name of Heinrich Shithausen-Farter the job of running the machine in, his real name was unpronounceable so they called him Jerry cos he were little like a mouse and they thought he come from St Germans near Hepple on account of his accent.   

Any road round they got Glenys rigged up but not strapped down just in case, ass in the air, head down stark bollock naked except her leather foundry man's smock with holes cut for her tits to poke through, and Bob had testing shop doors left open just in case, and after helping Bob to set up the fucking plunger in her ass at six inches in at half stroke Jerry gave it a turn by hand without steam.

Well you can guess what happened the fucking plunger went up all right but the rod angularity as the crank turned with such a short rod made her ass shift up and down vertically by about three inches and the fucking shaft already just about filled her so it near ripped her ass hole open.

"Fuck that!" Glenys cried, "I want's more than two bob for testing that fucker!"

Bob were upset and he sat down on the floor and started the design for the Single cylinder DA or direct acting, "We needs to get a straight thrust" he announced and he set to work with stick in the mud of the foundry floor and suddenly there it were.

In Bobs's new design the crankshaft had an eccentric crankpin for the Connecting rod from the piston so as Piston stroke could be varied, not the fixed crankpin for the steam piston and eccentric's for the fucking plunger shaft like a regular fucking machine, so the crankshaft just controlled the length of stroke and drove valve gear and Flywheel whilst the fucking plunger shaft were fitted to a yoke on a lengthened gudgeon pin at the crosshead small end bearing and were driven direct instead of being driven by the crankshaft..

Bob and a great gang of blokes spent most of Friday making it while Jerry worked to machine ribs on the fucking plunger to make it more interesting for Glenys and he spent the time shoving it up and down inside her using a little handle on back he could grip with his fist as he shoved it into her half way to his elbow.

"Thee looks like a bloody vet," Bob said when the little handle broke and he got it stuck, and found he couldn't quite get both hands in to grip it, but they fed her baked beans and beer and it soon come out.

Achates came to watch the first trial, and maybe he made them nervous but Bob got Glenys on machine, in her smock with her tits out face down, fucking shaft up her ass and he gave Jerry thumbs up.

Jerry cracked Atkinson patent steam valve open and nowt happened, just a load of hissing, but then Bob saw her ass was a bit low and there was some side thrust, "Ease thee bum up a bit" Bob suggested and Jerry eased the steam valve wide and sudden like the shaft freed off.

No Jerry said it were Bobs job to put clevis pin in, but Bob said it were Jerru's and any road round neither had done it so instead of banging in her ass all way and then coming back it shoved it right up Glenys's ass and shoved her right through Testing shop doorway, through paint shop and out into Micklethwaite's the Jeweller's on tother side of Old Bath road.

Poor Glenys were distraught, she had all her knees and elbows skinned and seven pounds of fucking plunger up her ass and three feet of fucking plunger shaft dragging the ground behind her as he tried to crawl back to the foundry.

Achates were so impressed he ordered two on the spot, but Bob was a canny lad and persuaded Achates that it needed some more gadgets and gizmos if his boss were to reet chuffed.

Bob quickly designed some single acting twin piston cylinders with centre admission to use an auxiliary steam feed from boiler through a Thompson and Marsh patent incremented reducing valve so as they gave a scissor like grips that you could crack walnuts with, mind you they boogered the walnuts, and Bob thought that they would be handy for crushing fingers and that, although the thin brass pipes would neck off sometimes and scald any booger in the way.

As main machine the Tortufuck, were single cylinder, it weren't self starting so the woman still needed a bloke to spin the flywheel and get it going if she were to get fucked which sort of spoiled the reason for having one except it would fuck for an hour on a shovel of anthracite once it got going which is a bit different to most blokes.

Any road one fine Yorkshire morning when wind blew the smoke from manufactory away across moors so you could see Parish Church at corner of Bog lane plainly near on quarter of a mile away and with half the registered prostitutes in the South Riding that could walk that time in the morning pulling and tugging the Whores drawn cart pulled slowly out of the A shop towards Whitby and the mighty north sea Ocean.

They were gone a mile and women had already stopped twice for a pinch of snuff and a bevvy of Tetleys before Bob and the blokes in the office realised Achates had meant a Horse drawn cart and so he paid the women off and hitched up Red Rump and Sherbet. his Lordships race horses that was waiting round the knacker's yard on account of coming seventh and eighth in the St Leger, the week before, to the Cart's shafts instead.

It took near on a week to get to Bridlington, the driver fell asleep and he missed junction 12a on Tadwhistle pike where the Muncaster track branches off the track to Scranby by the Hores and Caridge pub but Grimsby and Bridlington are much of a muchness and they soon got a Coal barge the "Pride of Grimesthorpe" scrubbed up and a tart strapped to the front as a figurehead and with Captain Findus Birdseye in command they set off for Spain on the three O'clock tide.

Benjamin Cuciola was the first chap they tortured with it, he kept jabbering and putting Bob and Jerry off as they toiled to assemble the machine, "I tell everything I know!" he said immediately he saw as Bob had a finger and most of his left ear missing and that Jerry's busted leg had set with a twist but of course Bob was a Geordie by birth and he only understood Gateshead and Newcastle Geordie and a bit of Yorkshire and neither of them spoke English, which didn't matter because  as Achates later explained Cuciola was a Portugeezer.

It was a riotous scene in town square, see Bob had scraped away all the green paint and polished the bare metal till it gleamed like silver on way to Bridlington, then they stuck it on an open Coal Barge on a storm lashed salty sea for a fortnight and of course it was just a sea of rust, and with steam leaking from all sorts of odd places it looked real menacing as Jerry pulled the whistle cords of the twenty tube steam whistle and they played the first part of "Blaydon \Races." to summon the crowd, trouble was it took a while longer than expected and instead of a two O'clock kick off it was five in the morning and gone before they had it sorted.

They was all there, Frenchies, Portugeezers, Spanish, two hundred came from Paris specially and Mr Cook brought a party of seventy five from Catsthorpe on Mire on a club thirteen- twenty one trip that couldn't land at Majorca's west pier because of the weather, and a bloke and his thee wives came from Huddersfield, in addition to the angry mob of locals what didn't like being woke at half past five in the morning by someone playing Blaydon Races badly in the wrong key.

Mendoza's blokes started by strapping  Cuciola to the extension shafts, so as his ass was in line with main horizontal and vertical axis of fucking plunger so as to minimise side thrust and assymetric thrust and wear, and held him down with leather belts round his knees and and wrists and one round his neck as well and Bob selected a plunger by eye because he looked like a tight assed booger and they pulled his breeches down, Cuciola's not Stephenson's, and shoved the plunger up his ass, before securing the clevis pin in one of the fifteen positions provided.

Bob did a final check but he never noticed that the piston were not right on back stroke and as he pulled his hand away the plunger dropped out, some said Cuciola farted it out but anyroad as Bob signalled the plunger came out and lodged against Cuciola's balls.

"I tell you everything!" Cuciola screamed but Jerry opened the steam valve and, Hiss,Pock ,Hiss Pock the crank swung over top dead centre as the flywheel carried it on and the plunger flailed around and near took Cuciola's balls off as it started flapping around between his legs, Achates and Mendoza screamed for it to stop but before Jerry could get the translator to translate the Espagnol for "Stop" into Geordie or Yorkshire the near nine pound (4Kg) plunger doing 56 revs per minute had given Cuciola's bollocks a right good seeing to.

His bollocks was red raw and it looked like a bloody great giant snail had crawled all round the place there was so much slime where he come in middle of it all.

There was a Cardinal, sort of a Vicar bloke in fancy dress a bit like Joseph with his coat of many colours what looked jealous and Cuciola himself looked more shagged out than put out as the machine clanked to a halt.

"Try the Pincers!" Mendoza called.

Bob ageeed and with fifteen army blokes lifting they got the pincer piston scissors arm thing what Bob hadn't got round to giving a name to over by Cuciola and tried to fit up the auxiliary steam pipes, they couldn't figure it for a bit until Mavis Boggins the tart they hired in Bridlington to be the Pride of Grimethorpe's figurehead on voyage down and who was chucking coal and dead animals in firebox chucked down her shovel and wandered along to watch.

"It's ass about face" she said prettily as she picked it up set it back down, other way round "try that." she said making sure everyone saw she wore nothing under her short coal encrusted once light blue skirt as she bent down. Refined Ladies looked away and a couple of blokes what was squeamish turned queer on the spot as folk saw her ugly fat twat.

Just when it all looked like it were sorted Bob had a bit of an issue finding a 18 an a half millimeter spanner for the pipe flange nuts because he left his at home to jam the privvy door shut, but soon enough he had new one forged and had the pipes tightened up and Jerry gently eased the steam valve open by gently clouting it with a seven pound (3kg) sledge hammer.

Bob carefully shoved Cuciola's head between the Horsehair thrust pads of the scissors arms and adjusted the vernier adjustment and locked the left hand thread against the right hand thread of the piston shaft, made sure it were all centralised and gave Jerry the thumbs up

Cuciola grimaced as the great Metal arms clamped his skull and he screamed out because the Horsehair tickled.

Now see this is where it all went pear shaped because there were a nob of casting flash on top outer scissor arm just below pivot and just at Cuciola's head width the thing binded up and despite Jerry giving it a full quarter turns of steam valve it locked solid and only pushed his skull in an inch or two.

See what Bob done was he used a Thompson and Marsh number three, two inch patent incremented reducing valve, which was really for use in a Boggis and Hart steam Euphonium and it gave full opening to steam at an eighth of a turn and very near shut again at a quarter turn, so after first bit there were near as like no pressure on skull.

Mendoza was getting really uptight, he stormed across and as cylinder cooled he pulled arms away from Cuciola's head with his fingers. "Is useless!" he said, "I demand refund!"

Now there is no word for refund in Geordie as disputes are habitually resolved with a fist fight but after a bit they realised Mendoza wouldn't pay,

"Is useless, I could hold it back with my hand!" he said, "It would barely tickle my skull!" and he waved his blokes to release Cuciola.

"You try on me and everyone see you are ford!" he said, he meant fraud most likely, any road they dragged Cuciola up and set him down out of way and Mendoza stepped forward nto prove machine were useless.

Mendoza sat on the extension frame,face up not down like Cuciola had been, and there he was in all his poncy finery, red jacket, leather trousers with a red stripe, ten gallon (45.4 litre) hat and and his sword and Bob put the horsehair pads against mendoza's hands which were either side his head and said "See it does not work,"

Jerry gave the valve a tiny bit of steam just to give a little squeeze but of course even pilot valve put 75 pounds square inch into cylinders and what with leverage and that it were best part of a couple of tons on Mendoza's head. See if he whacked it wide open it would have shut steam off again when turned a quarter turn on account of being a number three valve instead of a number two.

Anyroad one minute Mendoza had a head and next there were nowt but offal and bits of bone, , not straight away like because there were a nob of casting flash which stopped the Upper outer scissor arm slipping over the lower scissor arm and Mendoza had barely time to say "See is useless," before Hiss, Wazzock, Clangthe nob busted off the pistons pushed and the scissor arms clanged together where his head had been.

Mendoza's eyes were out on stalks, literally there was two eyeballs and a tongue and a bloody great mass of offal like you get in a Cornish Pasty and blood and bone fragments everywhere but there was no head, except like I said the eyes and tongue, and his scalp rolling round on floor in his hat.

"See it does bloody work!" Bob announced, as Mendoza's lifeless body slumped to the floor.

"You killed Senor Mendoza!" said Achates.

"It were his Idea,"  Bob announced. "Yes, looks like he owes us some money after all!"

"You killed my Colonel!" Achates squealed.

"Makes you responsible for paying for it!" Bob insisted.

"Oh, yes, I suppose I am Colonel now!" Achates said as he tried to nick Mendoza's ceremonial sword.

"Look here I wrote it all down!" said Cuciola, "The confession, I tried to kill Mendoza!" he said "can I have another go on the wanking machine?" and fighting broke out as the women fought to be first to see if was as good at fucking as it was at wanking Cuciola off.

"But the Ass fuck is fucked!" Achates complained.

Bob weren't having none of that so he slacked off the steam feed to the Pincer and let Mandoza fall on the floor and stuck a bowl under the top of his shoulders to catch blood for a black pudding for tea, then him and Mavis hoiked Mendoza on to the fucking shaft and Bob agreed with Jerry to leave the clevis out.

They packed his body up level with some old benches, shoved the fucking plunger right hard up his ass till it stopped and then made sure the piston were right back and with a fanfare in steam whistle Jerry cracked steam valve open and Mendoza shot near fifty yards (45metres) across the square till he smacked into a passing french onion seller to the raucous applause of the crowd.

They pulled the fucking plunger out and tried it on the village idiot next to show it was no fluke, and then they put the clevis in and Glenys demonstrated it in full foot fucking mode before they shifted the eccentric crankpin for a six inch stroke, so some of the local tarts could have a go.

They shifted it to the town hall after a bit because Mendoza's body started to stink under the hot sun and any road after three months the left main bearing housing split so Bob and Jerry come home, they was rolling in cash as they charged three dubloons (7 euros) for a go thinking a Dubloon was tuppence (0.01 euros) and only found out when they tried to change the money into Geordie Quids in Heaton when they got back.

So Bob gave up the fucking machines an married Dolores a good looking tart from Cadiz and bought a pub which he turned into an upmarket Brasserie/Brothel, and Jerry with his experience of Tortufuck engineering got a job as draughtsman at Heaton Ordnance factory where he developed the steam Tortufuck into the ROF /RE Tortufuck series of machines we still see in use all over middle east and at Guantanamo Bay till this day except they run on compressed air now, not coal fired steam  because of the CO2 emissions law.

So when you hear stories of torture, hands being crushed, blokes fucked up the ass until their spines bust, heads squashed to half width and let out again, even the mouth spreader with the reverse arms ripping folks jaws off, don't get all fluffy but think what a magnificent feat of engineering the Stephenson Tortufuck was but never forget the contribution of "Jerry" or Heinrich Shithausen-Farter to give his proper name and that other bloke whose name I can't remember made to this magnificent and world changing series of machine.

And of course that is the origin of the word Dozy.

From Mendoza, like an abbreviation, someone really dim.

I bet that posh bint off of Countdown wouldn't have told you that from Dictionary Corner.

I got some more stuff on Tortufucks if anyone wants to read it, how to build one using hand tools and a model making lathe, where to buy the bits, drawings, assembly instructions, how to get best results that sort of thing.

If you want I could write it up maybe.

To be continued?