Chronicles of Exploration In Formicophilia

Most of the traffic in this blog goes directly to this story.  I'm obviously interested in the fetish and you should take a look at:
Dark Incarnate Ch11 and 12 also 1.   You really NEED to read all of them to fully appreciate the plot and scenes.

Other similar stories which include Formicophilia are Beach Trip, and The Mist, but those are older and bleh...

 Changed title to fit better
updated  more to come

-Chronicles of a Nymphomaniac’s Exploration in Formicophilia and Beastiality

Prologue

I don’t understand the terminology any better than I understand my actions.  Perhaps if I just did what I was told and focused on what normal means I could begin change.  But alas, the urges and ideas that flood my mind refuse to be directed.  I can’t simply will thoughts away anymore than a bird can decide to fly east instead of south.  I know no rhyme or reason to these compulsions I have, only that they haunt and follow me endlessly. 

Growing up I was always labeled a bright kid, an achiever, just as many others were called trouble makers and clowns.  My psychologist says that cultural stigmatism is supposed to be a strong force to keep me from acting out.  At least he admits everyone has urges.  I’ve almost come to enjoy our sessions.  It’s a fun game of chess or I suppose better labeled; cat and mouse.  Dr. Mault is bright enough himself, but one can only expect so much from an overworked psychologist with more crazy patients than most people have friends.  I guess in a way I am crazy like the rest; he says I am dangerously teetering on an edge of which there is no return.  But I won’t get caught again.  We’ve only had two one hour long sessions and already I’ve let him in on more than most.  Not too much and nothing that might lead him to my true self, but sometimes I like to drop little clues like a serial killer leaving call signs to a detective.

I got a little careless one day and perhaps subconsciously I do wish to be caught.  The social stigmatism he says I should fear, only intrigues and excites me.  He is right though, I don’t want to destroy my image, rather I truly relish in the idea of being ‘almost’ caught.  It’s an odd place inside my head.  Too many contradictions for me to make any sense out of, more-less try to explain to someone else.  Dr. Mault is pretty sharp, but only got year right and nothing else.  In the sixth grade just before the end of grade tests my bus driver was caught doing some “very bad things” with his first passenger.  She was in eighth grade and older than me.  I didn’t even know her name at the time, but it didn’t stop the weeks of interrogation by the school staff and police.  Did he touch you in the bathing suit area, did he threaten you if you told, and did he ever make any unscheduled stops with the bus? Non-stop for weeks!  I told the truth he had never done anything out of the ordinary at all!  They kept saying I might not know what normal was blah blah blah.  That was the only time in my life I actually knew what normal was.

Apparently the school had installed new security cameras on the buses without telling the drivers.  I bet nobody ever saw that video.  Only a small handful of people, but it didn’t stop the stories.  Rumors went wild and everyone said they got it from direct from Tiffany or from an investigator who had talked to them.  I know now that it was all a bunch of bullcrap, but growing up I believed those stories.  It just started to make me think.  She used to sit at the back of the bus just staring out the window just like every other kid.  Now I looked at all the other girls like they wore vibrating panties with the administrator Mr. Rush just around the corner wielding the control like a mad scientist.  Since that time I’ve never looked at “normal” the same.

In short I am writing this for several reasons.  Not because Dr. Mault asked me to, but I want to keep a record.  A record of unbelievable things.  I know many of the things I’m drawn to are quite dangerous; I could easily end up in a hospital or worse.  Fantasy is just that: Fantasy.  The real world doesn’t care or ask your opinion.  Another part of me wants to write this so that one day it will be found.  Why else do people keep a diary?  Something left behind for those who knew you, or thought they did.

What happened at school was a failure, but also unplanned success.  I feel like I’ve lost a battle but had one hell of a fun time doing it.  I tell Dr. Mault many things, some true but most lies.  A lie is, as all good liars know, most convincingly hidden between two truths.  I wish to cover that incident up and keep my good name, because the war is far from over.  I want to have more fun.  I drop clues yes, but he doesn’t understand my motivations.  To be a pure girl clearly too smart for her age, someone that people expect to grow up to be a politician, doctor, lawyer or Indian chief (as my Dad used to say) is exactly the image I covet.  But I only want to keep that image so when people learn of what I really am, they are only more shocked and horrified.  To change that perfect princess image due to an accident in school would pale in comparison to the reaction of some old schoolmate reading this.  It would be not be just this one failed incident, but hopefully hundreds!  I can’t help but squirm and writhe at the thought.  The incidents and events, as I’ve come to learn, can be quite frightening.  I usually come away with a different point of view each time, but the fear fades and my mind wanders again.  I imagine it’s similar to what an addict feels after pawning his father’s old stopwatch for a high.  Sometimes it takes a few days, sometimes much longer, but I always come back to the same strange desires.   

I am at a loss still at explaining why I get so excited thinking about it.  My heart is racing and I have small beads of sweat and a familiar tingling warmth at the thought.  If Dr. Mault were a greater man, I might even ask him.

So, I should get on with it.  I’m not writing this diary for what Dr. Mault calls self discovery.  I do that in a very different way.  I am writing this to illicit a response from the reader and it’s not one of compassion, understanding, or empathy.

In the beginning

It’s only a few weeks into the first semester of my first year at “The Wolf Pack” High.  Over most of sixth, seventh, and eighth grade I kept having ideas; being drawn to things or places, but never really had the chance or the courage to explore them.  I used to go for walks around the trailer park at home, but there were always eyes watching or my mother demanding to know where I was.  Most of all I just didn’t have the courage.  I went about daily life looking and starring at normal things.  In my mind I saw a very different scene, but for a myriad of different reasons I only looked on quietly with a somber face.  It actually became a trademark of mine; kids used mention how I starred pensively out the window or down at the floor.  Some thought I was depressed, others felt I was just too deep or to smart for my age.  I would walk past an empty locker room and wonder what secrets it held.  Or past the baseball field with those big dugouts riddled with graffiti and dry dusty dirt.  I would look and wonder what happens there when no one is looking?  Even sitting in my classroom looking at normal people doing normal things I was fascinated.  I loved letting my imagination go wild with intrigue.  I knew I had secretes in my life; secretes that no one would ever know, and everyone else must be the same or worse. 

Last summer my father died, it was a rough time.  I just thought we were pore before.  My mother had to double up and get a second job.  She always looked on me with sadness.  She wanted to give me the world but felt she only held me back.  I tried to tell her that I was fine, and I really was fine.  I didn’t look or act like the other girls my age by my own choice.  The old vans I wore were stained and scuffed; part of the sole had even started to come loose.  My jeans were faded and had several tattered holes.  Sometimes the preppy girls said mean things but I really didn’t care.  I lived in my own world that I was utterly fascinated with.

All of this coincided with me getting a little older and graduating into high school.  I now walked to school, and pretty much anywhere else I wanted.  The Happy Hills trailer park adjoined the school property with a tall privacy fence that ran along the backside near the pool and athletic fields.  Dad had always said idle hands (time) ware the devils playground.  Maybe he was right, or maybe it was a self fulfilling prophecy, because I finally felt I had the freedom to explore and closer examine the stuff in my head.

It’s hard to describe what it’s like to be going crazy.  I feel I’ve had a taste.  I rode the school buss for most of my school years.  After it picked me and about fifteen other kids up at the mailboxes, we passed the train yard every day.  Every single day, I had to look out the bus window longing to see what sort of secrets and dark places that train yard held.  Every... Freaking... Day, I would look scanning every dark corner and crevice hoping to see a secrete.  At first I think I just wanted to get away and adventure into a scary place, but the idea has grown into something different.  I still haven’t made it yet but I plan to.  I think I might be a bit afraid of the train yard now.  I’ve fantasized about it for so long I’m afraid I’ll be terribly disappointed.  I’m not really sure what I hoped for all those years and I doubt I’ll find it there, but I still long to try.  Also what Mr. Mault said keeps coming back.  He said something about a point of no return.  I know what the chances of finding another Tiffany are, but I don’t even think I want to find anything.  I want to BE something.  I want to do some dark secret thing where no one would ever expect.  And right under their noses too!

Another place that was a bit more practical was the trailer park.  Taking the trash out to the dumpsters, for example; something I’ve done more times than I can count and each and every time I feel scandalous desire.  I can’t quite put my finger on it, but the number of people that go there and the filth and dirtiness mixing with my clean pure stature as the perfect little girl almost demands I act.  But I just can’t, or should I say couldn’t or maybe just wouldn’t.

Being in a large trailer park is alot like being in school; there are so many eyes.  A large population in such a small space was very risky but lately I had only been excited by that.  One of the first steps I took into action happened when I simply was taking out the trash one day.

Stray dogs had always been a problem on Happy Hill.  The school tried to use it against us and sue the park owner but failed.  Dogs had a nose for survival and no one really knew the strays from the pets so they thrived here.  Usually they had a much rougher coat that was mangy and unclean, but almost none of the dogs seemed to wear a collar so, no one really knew.  I was pretty familiar with most of the strays around and there were two in specific that get my attention and captured my imagination every time.

If I were a normal girl I would look at these two stray dogs as best friends.  I might even write a story about how they were best buds, two bachelors out scavenging and making a great happy life together; friends for life.  I think Disney even made a move about that.  But I am no normal girl.  All I saw was their obvious un-neutered balls and the furry dangling sheaths that concealed their doggy penis.  Light spotty hair covered the swinging sheath and it ran halfway up their stomach.  Sometimes when they paused to chase fleas the pointy red tip would slide out, shiny and wet.  Even tame dogs had that sense of wild abandon.  They didn’t care for social norms, but these dogs had no master but instinct.  I knew they must get into all sorts of trouble.  Reflecting I think I envied them a little, their freedom.  I had seen those two dogs a hundred times and each time was the same.  A bystander would have seen nothing unordinary, an innocent little girl longing for a puppy.  They might even think about how the young and pure of heart didn’t see their mangy flea ridden fur and only saw the cute puppies as god saw them.  This, however; was not the case.

Two weeks before school started, Mom was working late and I had been taking out the trash later and later for weeks pushing closer to dark.  She had forbade me to be out after dark, but she’d never know.  It was just after dusky dark.  The palest light still hung in the air.  It was muggy and miserable hot.  The air was so heavy laden with humidity you could look up at the street lamps, which had just lazily started coming on, and a soft rainbow halo.  I went out in one of my usual skirts which was cut just above the knee.  Nothing risqué, but a skirt is still a skirt. This summer I had really started adopting the idea of not wearing panties.

Going bare took a little while to get used to, but the more I tried it the more exhilarating it became.  I loved to do increasingly risky tasks with no panties.  At first I did it only with long skirts and shorts then one Sunday morning things changed.  Mother still insisted we got to church each Sunday, I chose to wear a pleated skirt, absent of panties of course.  We attended the main service which was only an hour.  I would have berated her for being a hypocrite and skipping out on the rest, had I actually wanted to go.  I sat down on the old hard wooden pew where I loathed sitting every week, but this time the hour took on a new meaning.  I proofed up the back of my skirt and sat my naked butt down onto the pew.  At one time the wood had been beautifully lacquered with a shiny finish, but that was ages ago.  The dry wood was so scuffed and scratched from more butts than anyone could imagine.  It must be impossible to clean, and why would anyone bother?

The idea of the hard and sometimes splintering wood against my bare bottom had me excited and wonderfully shifting in my seat the whole hour.  I imagined how dirty and full of snot nosed kid germs these ancient pews were, and I was adding my mark.  I felt so dirty, and with all those people sitting around without a clue.  We would stand to sing like a jack in the box, and when I sat back down I grabbed the sides of my legs and pulled apart so flower to be much more open to the pew.  After the service the wood under me was darkened damp, I tossed a hymnal book on top as we left.  My red flushed face couldn’t stop smiling as we as we shook hands and hugged our way out.  Some of the old men even made comments and pinched at my cute flushed dimples.  No one would ever know.  Unless that is, they read my diary here.  I started to look forward to church next week.  I thought about all the banisters and railings and even door handles in the old place. 

Looking back I think what really drew me to this deviant behavior, as Mr. Mault coined some of my actions.  He called not having friends deviant behavior, what a joke!  I think it was the idea of all those self-righteous people who had no clue what was really going on under their pompous noses.

I held the two bags of trash, one in each hand and walked on feeling the hot devils-breath air blow under and toss my skirt.  Nearing the dumpsters I heard the tail-tale signs of stray dogs making a racket.  I made a bit of noise and talked to myself, because you didn’t want to scare stray dogs unless it was on your turf.  I recognized who it was immediately as one stuck his scruffy short haired square head out from the side at me.  My heart raced.  I called as sweetly as I could and sat my load of trash down.  He looked at me skeptically.  I ripped into a bag and went fishing to find a treat.

They stood side by side starring at me not sure of what to do.  Many people throw pots and pans and even shot at them, so understandably they stood ready to run.  Still hopeful for a treat they hesitated but looked ready to bolt.  I dug out a dry chunk of old macaroni from the trash.  It had hardened into the shape of the bowel that birthed it, and tossed it halfway to them.  Tails wagging they came obediently, and I picked my trash back up and headed on to the dumpsters.  They started to growl lightly and fight over the solid mass as I heaved the bags in.  One bag was a little on the heavy side.  I hoisted the leaking bottom onto my thigh and got a better hold to push it in; I enjoyed this.  The bottom of the bag was warm with decomposition.  A streak of trash juice ran down my bare leg and met my old socks, I didn’t bother to wipe it away.  Scandalous.  

One of the strays had won and finished the treat.  As I turned to head back home I was facing the two dogs.  They stood shoulder to shoulder and looked up at me with practiced puppy eyes.  I talked to them in the cutest voice I could, but I was a little scared underneath because of how they stood directly blocking my path.  The air was tense for a moment.  They knew I wasn’t a threat and wanted another treat.  Each tilted their head and sat on their hind haunches like trained stunt dogs and I felt better.  They needed to learn that I was a friend.

My heart raced still, they were half wild if not entirely.  I crouched and held out my hand calling softly to them.  My heart told me to go home, to leave the tense and scary encounter, but this formality couldn’t be overlooked.  The shorter haired black dog circled wide around behind me like a shark while the smaller scruffier pit bull mix slowly came forward with this tail wagging.  He sniffed carefully at my hand and soon his pushed his muzzle under my hand.  I happily obliged. 

His hair was finger length and it made me cringe to pet him.  The matted mangy dog needed about three baths in a row and then hours of brushing.  Where he had fur that is, at the base of his tail he had fleaed most of his fur off.  His hair was greasy and ridden with flea dirt, real dirt, and other grime; altogether unpleasant to touch.  I wanted to pet his friend the other lab-like dog too; his hair was shorter and wouldn’t be as bad.  If I made friends now I would never worry about approaching them again.  He kept his distance preoccupied near the dumpster or circling me still too skeptical.  He made me nervous, but I had his friend in the palm of my hand.  I had to see both of their furry little balls between their legs all the time.  Animals are obscene in a way; so in your face.  A man would be hauled off to jail, but animals didn’t mind to let it all hang out and nobody seemed to care.  I looked around at the darkening night.

Since the cannonball jump into the pool of sexual awakening in the sixth grade, my natural attitude made it difficult to explore anything.  I just didn’t like boys.  I wanted to like them, and even have a normal dating life, but boys were just so damned stupid.  After a year or so of frustration as more and more girls started dating in middle school, all I could see were flaws.  I still felt attracted but as soon as they showed interest in me, it was all over.  I wanted to get close but just couldn’t.  I knew what was happening to my body and it only made things worse.  Deep down I think I’m scared of boy’s I know I would get into something and that social stigma scared the hell out of me.  So many girls were sluts, it didn’t even matter if it was true or not.  As soon as they began spending time with boys the other girls went wild with rumors.  I was perfectly happy being a fridged bitch to the boys.  It didn’t change my chemistry however. 

I was trying to figure out who was in control here.  These dogs were a bit too feral.  I let out a gentle laugh, molesting, such a crude word but also equally appropriate.  I just wanted to feel some tesitcles, and a big warm penis in my small girly hand.  I slowed the petting.  As usual my mind wandered, but the real world was just a bit too real.  He tossed his head this way and that impatiently pushing closer to me.  Crouching on bent knees I was about to standup to move away when he flopped on the ground and rolled over onto my toes begging for a belly rub.  Puppies have more in their arsenal than just cute eyes.  I relaxed again and started scratching his chest.  I cringed as dried mud and grit rolled under my fingernails.  It would take me an hour to clean it all out.  My heart skipped a beat as I moved down his belly and the furry tip of his dog sheath brushed the back of my hand.  I used one to scratch his chest and the other slowly moved lower.  Gently I cupped the large fleshy sheath and felt the pointed thing it hid.  Startled by the move he began to get up, but I just increased my scratching and he complacently relaxed, paralyzed.

I felt the solid thing under the soft rubbery skin and I wanted to see it.  My womanhood was swollen and almost dripping with excitement.  I talked and cooed him like a baby as I continued to run my small hand down the length of his sheath where I cupped his furry balls they were larger than they looked, a nice handful.  I couldn’t stand it I had to see his “thingy”.  I gently started to pull the pliable sheath back and exposed the fleshy pointy tip of his pink penis.  He jumped up so suddenly I fell back onto my butt and elbows.  He was a bit skittish for such an intimate touch.  I sat frozen. I was afraid I had scared him and I didn’t want to threaten any further.

I was the one scared to death, starring eye to eye with this big stray dog that lived by no code and had no master.  He was fine and shook the confused situation out of his mind like the dirt from his coat.  He sniffed at the trashy run on my thigh and then nosed at my crotch.  So unsure of what was happening, my heart leaped into my throat.  My knees were up and bent from the short fall, and without panties what was he suppose to think?  His large warm tongue lashed out at my flower not bothering to ask for permission.  He liked my weak position, and understood the female scent that laced the thick air.  The other dog stood ridged with his head down watching the situation.  He was in control if I tried to get up it I worried how it might change things. 

We were right in front of the dumpsters with a big halogen light blanketing the scene in an amber glow.  The dumpsters were down at the bottom of the “Happy Hills” out of direct sight of the trailers with a small storage building blocking the view.  But someone could come around at any moment, not to mention all the kids that flocked and played around the storage sheds.  My heart raced, flushing my face bright red and made my soft delicate lips more sensitive as his cold wet nose poked and dabbed around.  Just thinking of someone rounding that bend under the light and seeing stray dog violating me made me feel dizzy and weak.  I looked over at his friend, still ridged and just short of a low growl I didn’t want to hear.  My chest heaved and soon my breath complemented his work.

A few more warm laps with his big tongue and waves of mixed emotions forced me down, laying on my back looking up at the early stars.  He was going to have me; my precious spot received his tong as the nerve endings were meant to.  If I was going to be seen it would just have to happen.  My knees pointing to the stars, I pulled them wider as I gave into the treatment.  Stronger waves of pleasure were building as I arched my back, my head grinding the grit and gravel into my clean hair.  I couldn’t stop thinking about someone watching as his warm lapping and situation shook my body to a quick orgasm.  I relaxed and went limp and slowly lifted my head to look down at him as he worked.  The nap of his large scruffy neck was all I could see above the hem of my crumpled skirt.  My weak mind wondered what was next.  He was still going like I was fresh ice-cream.  His tongue was amazing; it kept licking harder and deeper, spreading my lips apart and diving in-between pulling the whole length against my clit on his way out.  The flush on my cheeks had spread in patches to my chest and shoulders.  I wanted to moan, and scream out in thanks as the pleasure rolled into another wave.  I thought, of all the times I had seen dogs over the years and wondered why I had denied myself this pleasure.

This couldn’t go on forever.  I came back to the world wondering how to end this.  I couldn’t exactly give them a rain check for a later date.  I saw the lab staring at me, he was unmoving and unblinking.  I finally met his eyes.  He had scary eyes.  While I knew I had done nothing to offend or scare him, I was suddenly very scared of him.  He was just starring at me.  I wanted the other dog to stop.  Home was a long walk away with these two at my heels.  I felt very silly and stupid for what I had let happen and how I had gotten here.  I slowly lowered my eyes and rested my back on the ground.  I was scared, but the pit didn’t skip a beat he just kept going.  I wanted him to stop now, but how?  He wasn’t just lapping anymore, he was stabbing his long tong inside stretching and rolling against the barrier of my virginity.  I picked my heavy head up slowly and looked down at him.  Noticing the change in me he looked up; he had wild eyes too.

I’m not sure where phrase, “eating a girl out”, came from but I would never be able to hear it the same again.  My skirt had fallen down off my legs and lay flat on my stomach and the pits muzzle pushed tightly against the mound of my mons pubis.  His nosed looked cringed like a snarl and I felt his incisors pushing against skin beside my entrance where his tong worked like a machine.  It’s such a strange feeling, the nerves still report sensation, but as my attitude changed the feeling still felt the same but it infuriated me.  I won’t lie; I wished it all back, and wished I hadn’t put myself here.  I just wanted to get up and walk home and maybe see these guys again later running around like the convicts they were.

I dug the heels of my shoes in and pushed back using my hands to crab walk backwards.  The pit followed like I was a treat.  An evil snarl escaped his mouth as his eyes stayed on mine.  I wanted to call for help and kinda wished someone would come.  I scanned the building and the road but saw nothing.  I figured the least I could do was stop his stabbing tong which felt entirely inside me now.  I lowered my knees and denied him access pushing my legs together, but he didn’t falter.  His head violently followed and his tongue lashed over my clit and stabbed between my wet tense legs.  I couldn’t stand it anymore I had to find a way to force him to stop.  I resisted the urge to push his head away, it would be too easy to get bit like that.  Instead I dug them into the gravel sitting up.

He paused, lifting his head to stare eye to eye with me.  His large brown eyes and big square head inches from my own.  He showed no emotion just stillness.  I knew he was in charge.  I was holding my breath and too scared to move, when I heard the lumbering sound of someone bringing a big trashcan on wheels around the far side of the building.  The dogs eyes were locked with mine though I know he wanted to look at the sound, I just knew he wanted to bite my face off before he left.  But he relaxed and just ran off behind the dumpsters joyfully.  I sat up with my heart still racing as Billy Mason rounded the building and started down the short hill.

I knew it was Billy by the way he walked.  His hunched silhouette against the bronze light of the halogen humped and bumped over the rocky road and he made his way down.  A nice bit of fog had rolled in during my encounter.  Billy hadn’t seen me yet and I didn’t want him to.   I scrambled on weak legs to my feet and hid over behind the cardboard recycle dumpster.  No one ever used the recycling ones.  Knowing Billy, he probably did.  The warm air felt cool and kissed my wet crotch as I tried to wipe the dog slobber and bad feeling away.

“Go on, get out of here, stupid dogs!” Billy yelled.

I relaxed and leaned my back against the cool metal of the bin and slid down and sat my butt on the greasy packed dirt to rest.  The dogs are gone Billy, don’t you worry.  My exhilarated heart pounded the fading adrenaline though my system like the waves of pleasure that left my loins and knees shaking.  My encounter was scary, but it was the most amazing sexual encounter I had ever had.  I didn’t believe for a second those dogs would have hurt me I was scared and they picked up on it that was all.  I should have been more comfortable, and in a better place!  I wonder how long he would go if I let him do whatever he wanted to me until they got tired and moved on.

I heard Billy struggling... “Son O’va BITCH!”  I couldn’t help but giggle a little.  I had known Billy since he moved here in the fifth grade.  He was the new kid, and me being me I made friends with him just to be nice.  The nature of our friendship was comical now, at least to me.  I was nice back then, and we were genuine friends for a little while until he fell in love with me.  Since then we haven’t really talked much.  A slow cruel smile touched my lips.  With my newfound, albeit very late sexual awakening, Billy might serve useful.  If only so I could watch him squirm.

I had gotten more and more beautiful as I grew up Billy, however had gotten... something else.  He wasn’t really fat or especially ugly, but something went wrong with everything Billy has ever tried to do socially, and I don’t think it started with me.  If he tried to make a friend he made an enemy.  Last year in eighth grade Billy had coach McConnell’s gym class.  Coach, as everyone called him, was the leader of the football team which against all odds had done great under his leadership.  Well, Coach saw a genuine challenge in Billy, and took him under his wing.  Coach McConnell also had a habit of drinking a bit of rum with his coffee first thing in the morning.  Billy saw this and stole a bottle from his own alcoholic mother and brought it to school for Coach as a gift.  Not only did things go wrong, but coach McConnell got fired.  Billy technically failed the eighth grade, but the teachers had a meeting and decided to just move him along to high school.

“Hey Billy!”  I jumped out from two dumpsters down.   Billy squealed like a piglet and fell back onto his butt and hands, much as I had been a few minutes before.  Luckily the overzealous dogs already had their fill.  I giggled and started over.

“Holy crap you scared the be-jesus out of me Kaylee!” he said as he watched me walking over.

“Sorry I just came down here to toss my trash in and your big wheeled can scared me, so I hid,” I said with a big smile holding my hands behind my back and swishing my skirt side to side.

“Oh, no it’s alright I’mma big boy you didn’t scare me that bad.”  His eyes started at my stained shoes and worked up my toned legs to my short plaid skirt which stopped just short of what every boy in his position wanted to see.

“Sure... here let me help you up,” I reached out a hand, he took it slowly.  I didn’t actually help him up of course, rather watched as he had to get up with only one hand.  “So, what’s the trouble you’re having?  And where did your trashcan go?”

“It.. uh, it fell in...,” he stood just like the first day I met him in fifth grade scratching his head and looking confused.  “I don’t like to grab the bags one by one, so I just put the top in and shake it out.  Something must be caught, cause it wasn’t shaking out!  It nearly drug me in with it,” he said and looked over.  “And I have to get it out or my dad’ll kill me!”  Sure enough there sat his big can just inside the dumpster window wheels up.

“Yep I can see, it’s been Billied,” and I broke out laughing, though Billy didn’t think much of it.  “Well let’s see if we can fish it out.”  With some effort we were able to get it balancing half out.

Hold it still, I’m going to clear whatever is clogging the top,” Billy said and moved to try and reach in.  “It’s that stupid metal frame my dad stuffed in at the last minute; it’s at the very top wedged in. 

“I have to admit for trash can with such big wheels, the utility seems to be lacking.”



He started tugging and pulling, “Whoa don’t... BIL...” a hard tug shifted the balancing act to the dumpsters favor and the can went in again.  I should have let go, but after my feet left the ground the rest of me followed it in.  I did a roll over the top and into the dumpster with a finesse that would have made a gymnast jealous and landed on my back.  Luckily there was no glass or broken furniture, only soft bags, like the ones I had tossed in.  

“Oh My God! are you OK?”  Billy screamed, “Let me go get some help!”

“No, I’m fine just stay there I’ll climb out,” I said, hoping I was ok... One, I didn’t hurt and two, my skirt was down, luckily.  I wondered if Billy saw anything on my way in, probably not.  It was surprisingly comfortable in here on trash bag pillows, but the smell of a dumpster in July could not be undone; I wanted to puke. 

“I was worried for a sec there!  Well hey; since you’re in there can you clear the top of the thing so we can get it out?”

“BILLY!”

“Ok... sorry, just climb out and I’ll get Dad down here tomorrow to get it before the trash man comes.”

“No... I’ll get it; might as well make the best of it.”  I struggled to maneuver around. Everywhere I tried to put my weight I felt plastic ripping and smelled fresh kitchen trash. I got up and looked out to see Billy looking in like a peeping tom.  “I’ll pick up from the bottom and you pull on the wheels again.”  He started to pull pathetically on the top end.  I squatted down with my bare bottom inches above the trash and sunk my fingers into ripping plastic trying to find the top.  The doggy grit under my nails was the least of my worries now.  The rim was too far gone mashed into the soft bags; I had to try something else, and just grabbed it by the sides.  I tried to lift with my back but couldn’t.  “What did you throw away cinderblocks?”

“It wasn’t me I swear it was..”

“Just pull harder!”

It only bounced on its spongy bed of shredding bags.  I knew the only way I could get it up was to lift with my legs, but that meant squatting down further.  I reluctantly lowered my bottom until I felt a faint brush of a plastic bag at my thighs and heaved again, bear hugging the big black can.  It started to move up when my grip slipped up the taper and so did I.  Arms flailing all my force tossed me back, landing on the trampled and ripped bags yet again.  I didn’t want to move, my legs were straddling a bag as if it were my lover.  My weight and movement was pushing trash from inside the overstuffed bags up and out of the fresh rips and shreds.  The ruptured bags were never meant to endure this sort of treatment and fresh trash splashed and pushed against my tender legs and worst my bare bottom.  The warm, wet, and spongy mass hugged my body and the smell became a solid thing sending tendrils snaking into my nose mouth and throat.  I did ok for a second, and I might have been fine if everything would have stopped, just froze in place.  It was uncomfortably comfortable, except for the smell.  But the filth pouring up from the bags kept coming and pushing up slowly as I struggled to get up.  I couldn’t place a hand or try to stand without sinking into the mire somewhere else.  My most sensitive of places was overwhelmed by the nastiness in my frenzied hurry.  I missed the dog slobber.

.

Without warning I had a fit of coughing and involuntarily dry heaving.  I lunged forward cringing and heaving to puke between my legs and not on them.  Squishing ontop of the mess the violent shove sank my bottom down and hard.  It happened so suddenly there was no way to have stopped what happened next.  I felt a painful pinch underme and after my first volley of puke I realized something was inside me.   It was large semi-soft and knobby.  A envisioned a grimy decaying broccoli stalk and lost control puking and writhing onto the thing more.  I was on top of it and it pushed further and further bumping and rubbing me in the worst way as I struggled to breathe.    

“I’m ga-ggoing to g-gget some help, just hold on!”  Billy stuttered when he was nervous.

“Don’t you dare Billy Mason!”  I spat out and started to regain control.  Whatever unimaginable nastiness was inside me was more in than out and moved with me now.  “Nobody better ever know about this!”  I leaned forward trying to stand again, dry heaving at the smell, but more at the mysterious intruder.  The knobby finger seated deeper into me as I finally lunged forward enough to stand up and out of the mess.  It tugged and came up with me.  Wet chunky gunk ran and fell off my butt leaving a grimy black trails on the last bit of clean I had.  I couldn’t help but laugh, laughing was better than puking.  Billy had no idea what was going on in here and if he did, he would’ve had a heart attack.  I reached back stiffly to wipe off, but my hands were just as dirty.  I did knock some of the more solid stuff loose.  Something that felt a lot like coffee grounds stuck to every crevice I had.  Slowly I touched the base of the intrusion; it was a chicken bone with quite a bit of chicken still clinging on.  I started to pull it out.  The larger end was seated in me like a plug.  Billy peered in the window.  I stopped in my tracks and let the thing go, as a vision stabbed my mind.  If what if Billy saw me make a magic chicken bone appear like rabbit out of my skirt?  I don’t know why I wasn’t in tears, any normal girl would have had to call an ambulance, but I only grimaced.  At least I wasn’t hurt, violated, but not hurt.  I would survive.  Some broken glass or sharp stick would have really ruined my day.

“What are you laughing about?  Are you ok?”  Billy tried to look over the can and I made sure he only saw me wiping my legs off.

“Don’t look!  This is bad enough; I don’t need you to see.  You just turn around and stay where you are!”  I watched as he crossed his arms and looked towards the storage sheds.  Standing precariously I spread my legs wider and leaned forward, running my hands under my soiled skirt and over my tight buttocks, down and between the tender cheeks feeling the gritty coffee against my clenched anus.  The coffee was the only thing I could discern; I tried to pretend it was only coffee grounds.  I probed with one finger and touched the stick inside me.  I took the knobby end and started to pull feeling the other meaty end pull hard inside me.  It was like an arrow, pulling it out would be harder than it went in.  It was half eaten with cartilage, meat, and skin all too obvious.  Even if I did pull the bone out there would be chucks left inside.  Another strong gag threatened to double me over.  I forced the warm saliva down with a hard sallow.

Such a silly thing and odd happenings coupled even stranger feelings on this summer night.  First the dogs, I was scared but enjoyed it, the lose of control.  It wasn’t what I had in mind at all, but wasn’t it exactly what I had wanted?  This thing, this chicken bone, this discarded trash had taken more than I have willingly offered, or would, but wasn’t that was drew me?  When I looked at the train yard it wasn’t because it was a happy romantic place, it was dirty and dangerous; a place where things could happen.  This piece of discarded food had me, in every way a girl could be had.  What else did I expect to find in the shadows?  Degradation.   

I saw Billy shuffling his worried feet looking at the night.  I don’t know what I was thinking but something just came over me.  The damage was done and without thinking pushed the drumstick all the way inside me, and followed it with my finger to be sure it was sunk.  My face cringed in pained wince.  It bobbed in my depths defiling me, I had never felt anything like it.  Best of all though, Billy had no clue.  I ran my fingers over my gritty labia one more time as my heart fluttered faster and faster.  I called to Billy with utter satisfaction, “Let’s give this one more try.  More than just my heart raced, my whole chest had become a burning ball of racing excitement.

My poor nose had gotten accustomed to the smell.  “Get ready because once it gets started I’m going to shove it down your throat!”  I dug my heels deep in on each side of the can.  Every move I made I felt the thing rubbing, twisting, and moving with me.  I squatted down relishing the obscene internal massage and set my bottom onto the trash once again.  What could it hurt?  I had come to trust the bin didn’t hold any glass or rusty edges like a McDonalds play pen.  I finally got my fingers under the lid of the can.  As I shifted to lift it I put more weight on my bottom pushing me squatting further into the filth but the can started upward.  I felt something cold and wet running into my shoe and filling around my heel as if it were a cup.  It took a lot of effort but I pushed the can out.  I stood looking out at Billy sprawled out on the ground next to his hateful trashcan with wheels.  I started to brush off my bottom again, feeling the chicken bone deep inside.  I looked back but the dumpster was too dark to see much.  I tried wiping off the best I could again and again.  I wished I had that dog back right now...

“Wow we did it!”  Billy said as he stood again and we looked at each other though the window again.  How did everything Billy ever tried to do go so wrong, every time?

Now, I got to get out of here,” I reminded him.  “I’ve got a skirt on so I’m just going to jump up on and sit on this,” I patted the bottom of the steel window.  “And I want you to grab me by the arm pits and pull me out, OK?”  I was unconsciously resting my hands on my tummy.  Second thoughts ran through my head, but what could I do now?  I had crossed the Rubicon.

“Yeah got it!”

I looked away from him and put my hands on the edge and bounced up.  With my weight landing on the edge the bone was driven even deeper, painfully kissing my cervix.  The coffee grounds and the hard rusty metal lip bit into my skin and left me gasping.  I was really a little too high for Billy to grab right, but that didn’t stop him.  He threw his hands around my waist and locked them.  Without warning he started pulling me back.  I knew we were going to fall, and as my big ol’ 92 lbs started to get the best of him, we did.  Before I knew it we were on the ground with me sitting in his lap.  His hands miraculously no longer around my waist but planted firmly around my chest.

“You can let go now...” I said annoyed.  My new seat on top of Billy actually felt great compared to the trash bin, a nice clean pair of jeans wipe some of the grime off and fresh clean air.  The bone inside echoed my every move.  If only Billy knew… 

“Oh right, that was fun!”  Billy slowly relaxed his grip then suddenly he realized where his hands were.  “Oh I’m sorry.. I didn’t mean to, I was just tryin to...”

“It’s ok, at least I’m out of that horrible dumpster.”  A very heavy almost steamy fog obscured even the light.  The storage shed was ghastly and distant.  “I think I’ll be going now,” I said cringing at the feeling of standing.  Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea.  I felt the whole outline of the thing.  My body knew it was some foreign invader and wanted it out.

We both brushed off again.  “Can I at least walk you home?”  Billy asked.  “I mean after all you’ve done I really owe you one.”

“Billy you could do me a favor, and not do me a favor, ok?  I’ll take a rain check.”

“O…K...”  Billy said with a smile taking the joke well.  He started working on pulling the stuff out of his can piece by piece this time.  As I stood there watching him I was absolutely on fire. The bone inside felt so strong and clear, it was like I could look down and tell exactly where it was, just below my tummy and belly button.  It hurt and pained my insides but I had never felt so alive there.  My insides were swimming!

“I think I will walk with you Billy, that is, if you don’t smell too bad after handling all that garbage.”  We both broke out in laughter.  Even laughing made the bone jiggle and massage my insides.

We walked back up the short hill.  The warm air kissed my thighs drying the dumpster juice to a sticky paste.  I was breathing pretty hard, Billy thought I was out of breath but the bone was making me go crazy.  My body cramped and pushed at the thing from time to time, but it was too deeply seated.  Billy’s trailer was closer and we said our goodbyes for the night.  I must have looked funny for the rest of the walk.  My insides were churning.  My body wanted it out and that was final.  The cramps were stronger now.  If there had been a safe place to stop or if I could have just let it fall out, I would have.  Another vision made me smile, some fat ugly man looking out his window to see me, cute, perfect little me, walking as a slimy half eaten chicken bone materialized from under my skirt and dropped to the ground.  Walking up the few stairs to my front door was pure torture.  Every time I would lift my leg up, my muscles squeezed on the bone.  I went straight for the bathroom and nearly fell to my knees.   

I began running some water for a bath.  I kept my legs straight and bent at the waist to avoid any unnecessary twisting but it squished the thing inside me more.  Even though it tortured me; it felt alive, nasty, and corrupted.  I was equally disgusted and exhilarated.  Flaunting it in front of Billy like that was the BEST.

While waiting for the water to fill I laid back on the soft carpet and ran my hands over my tummy.  My heart was racing and began even faster as I rubbed my soft mounds then over my tortured crotch and clit.  This part of me had never seen so much excitement.  Squeezing and toying with myself, I reached down and felt the swollen entrance.  It was red and puffy from all the rough attention.  I wished I had one of those dogs between my legs again.  I probed finger into the gritty hole and touched the bottom of the bone.  As it moved I felt electrified.  I sank another finger in and pinched the end, gently twisting and toying with the intrusion before I started to finally pull it out.  I sat up and spread my legs wide; I wanted to see this thing for the first time.  My whole lower body and legs below my skirt were different colors, smeared with coffee grounds and other unidentifiable splotches of red and browns.  I’d have to roll up the bath carpet before Mom get’s home.  I toyed the end of the bone just to the edge of pulling it out and looked down with anticipation, the tiny bit I could see looked grilled golden brown.  The skin of the bone was charred from a fire.  I tugged a bit more and saw white cartilage and tears of meat still attached.  It was halfway out and the bigger meatier end tugged and pulled like a plug.  I stopped and played with my clit letting the bone stand like the sword and the stone.  I came, and felt my pussy clench and tighten on the meaty end as I finally tugged it out.

I felt empty as I lay back.  The outline of where it was still felt clear and alive, electrified.  I sat up again to see the rest of it.  The other end was much larger and only half eaten, but something made my heart stop in my chest surging fear through my bones yet again.  A flap of skin and meat was moving; a maggot wriggled out.

My eyes got wide and my stomach sank, but quickly rose again as I hung my head over the toilet heaving and puking anything left in my stomach out.  That thing had been inside me!  Worse yet, were there more?  Veins stuck out on my neck as I strained harder and harder dry heaving, I pushed so hard I felt a slimy bit push out of my pussy and slowly run down my leg until it ran out of slime and just stuck on my thigh.  I couldn’t look, and dry heaved more at the thought of what it was.  My minds eye saw my whole crotch writhing with maggots, so thick they swamped my pale skin.  That’s why the thing had felt so wild.  It was infested!!!  Somehow, I thought it wouldn’t be like this.  Chicken bones I threw away after dinner looked harmless.  How could I have done this?

The nerve endings of my pussy lips said something was moving.  I couldn’t get my head out of the toilet, more and more I felt the wriggling and moving spreading.  It wasn’t my imagination.  I turned my head still dry heaving lifted the knob for the shower; I didn’t want to sit in a bath anymore.  My mind was so cruel, I saw myself sitting in still water writhing with maggots clamoring to my shoulders and breasts.  The very real constant tickling movement never stopped.  I tried to keep my legs closed and I didn’t want to look but I felt everything.  I threw myself into the shower, unable or just unwilling to stand.  I lifted my butt up on all fours to face the shower where the warm clean water was my salvation. 

I careened my head and looked down, I had to.  Tiny white segmented worms squirmed blindly as they circled swirling down the drain.  Stabbing my fingers in, I tried to hold myself open for the water to wash me out, but I knew it wouldn’t be enough.  I could never be sure I got them all out.  

The next couple of weeks were different, but the first few were a nightmare.  I wasn’t able to sit in my classes without constantly wondering if they were still inside me.  How long do maggots live?  Would my immune system be enough to fight them off, would they die or live on?  Worst of all, would they turn into flies?  The third day I couldn’t take it, and I went to the library after school and pulled up the web browser.  I felt someone watching me the whole time.  If it was a secret I wanted to flaunt in front of people, but the thought of someone questioning me about why I was searching for information on maggots was too much.  I could hardly bare to see the images of them.  At the same time also exhilarated me.  The events played over and over in my mind.  I looked at the pictures and thought, those things, they had been inside me, before any boy or man; what a secret!  I learned they need oxygen like everything else and it’s not something my body could provide them.  I finally relaxed and treated the yeast infection for what it was.  Luckily those are pretty common for all women to get.  I guess most don’t get theirs like I got mine.

After that I still jumped at every itch and tickle, but it was like I fed a great need deep inside me, yet got a stomach ache in the process.  It was satiated at least for now.  After that night, I looked dark corners for what they were a little more dangerous and scary.

Insatiable

It didn’t take too long for my hunger to come back.  I was in psychology class.  The teacher had planned an experiment last week and today was the day.  Everyone had been excited all week.  I thought it was kind of silly.  We were learning about the brain and what it does during sleep.  Sleep cycles are about an hour and a half, the same length as our class.  Everyone brought their pillow and blanket to class and we would sleep for the period.  I had kind of forgotten about my deviant distractions until she cut the lights off and I couldn’t sleep.

The classroom was black, pitch black.  She went though the trouble of covering the windows with tinfoil to block out all light.  I laid there instantly aware that no one could see anything just as I couldn’t.  We were all in rows so I couldn’t get up or move, that could be disastrous.  But I wriggled up under my blanket and rolled my skirt up around my tummy to tug my panties down.  I spread my legs wide and rubbed myself right in the middle of the class.  I thought of the dogs again.  Their sensitive noses would have picked up the scent and came running.  I wondered if anyone else could.  It was over too soon and I was still hungry.  I peered into the darkness and even after being in it for a while my eyes still hadn’t adjusted.  Maybe nobody could, your eyes need some light to amplify, and Mrs. Benet had done a great job of cutting out all light.

An evil grin touched my lips my underwear over my shoes.  I twirled them in the air around one finger lacing the air with their potent smell.  I had a pretty good idea which way the board was and I let them fly.  We got out of class quickly and nobody noticed, I never heard the rest of the story but I’ll bet it was hilarious.  The rest of the day was interesting, but nowhere near as exciting or exhilarating as locking eyes with that dog, or realizing that living things were inside me.  From small children we’re taught that place is sacred, no one touches, sees, or even acknowledges it exists without a tense purpose whether medical or desire.  I shouldn’t have been introduced in such a manner, but the adrenaline and scandalous rush of fear is what I really crave now.  It’s not about gratification for me now, rather novelty and excitement.  And fear.  I can’t allow myself to follow my thoughts through to conclusion, because like the addict, it’s a one way street.

The rest of the day was mundane; I kept an eye on my desk seat to see a smudge of perspiration, but it wasn’t the same.  The thrill was gone, it wasn’t enough.  Fourth period was loud and stuffy; everyone had their bags packed and ready to run.  I was ready too, but Mom would be out all night again and the house work was piling up.  The bell rang and the halls congested with kids running to busses, drama, and sports practice and I was in my own world again.  Things were getting dull again.  I took a different rout near the back of the school past the Special Education wing.  There was less traffic and it lead out to the sidewalk that ran past the parking lots and football field.

The bumper bar on the door leading into the stairwell was loud and echoed down.  It was quiet the special kids didn’t go home like the rest of us.  But there was something else, an earthy organic stench in the air.  It wasn’t like anything I’d ever smelled before, not too bad but not pleasant either.  It was as pervasive in the warm sunlit stairwell as the dumpster smell but no where near as potent.  I hadn’t thought of what had happened in a day or two, but my mind made the connection instantly and I wasn’t sure how to feel about it.  It didn’t matter I shook off the dirty feeling and continued down the stair letting the air puff my skirt up with each hopping step.  If someone came up I’d have to hold it down.  This side of the school was utterly deserted though.  Some cheap printouts were plastered to the door haphazardly.  Some girl had pissed off her boyfriend and he had put these up for revenge.  ‘Rams Slut to DA WOLF PACK,’ the girl was pictured with her butt up under the mascot wolf statues at the entrance to the school.  The printout was of such a poor quality I couldn’t see who it was, but it got my curiosity going.

I turned to go, the flyer was useless and pivoting I felt something squishy under my shoe.  The floor was covered in black brown splotches like crazy oil raindrops, but it was some sort of mashed bug.  The exit door was right in front of me but the combination of the smell and strange bug gave me pause.  What sort of thing was this?  I dropped down crouching to get a better look.  Crouching without panties always gave me a bit of a rush.  The janitors usually kept the place clean so these must have came in drawn my who knows what, fluorescents nightlights, warmth, shelter maybe?  I bounced back to survey the floor better.  There must have been ten splotches.  I reached out and gently picked up a flattened carcass inspecting its elastic body.  I felt like some sort of investigator, not a student or even part of this world, a spectator, curious about the unseen events.  It must have been some sort of worm, maybe a grub or caterpillar.  The wide stair came down and created a neat hiding place under it.  I hoped to find that one survived.  Surely there wasn’t this much foot traffic in here, so someone must have squashed them.  But it didn’t make any sense, why were they here?  Running from some lawn pesticide?  The sports fields were near.  I crouched again savoring the open air against my unprotected bottom.  It was strange and I longed for some intrigue and excitement but the real world was far too dull for that.  But it didn’t stop my imagination:

I smell the alien ichor on my fingertips.  It was the same smell that filled the stairwell.  The girl and the wolf statue, maybe there was more to the story.  Maybe she got more than she bargained for.  After being impregnated with some unnatural seed or wormy cargo she would cry and cradle her womb hoping for the best but knowing better.  After a day or two when her stomach grumbled she was caught at a bad time during school.  That’s when she ran inside the door falling to her knees gasping as the larva burst forth into the world from her used body.  She would want revenge, and as soon as she calmed her raging heart she would have stomped them out of this world with the same ferocity that defiled her. 

My own heart was raging at the fantasy.  She would have been put through hell having unknown creatures gestating, squirming, writhing, living inside her while trying to pretend to live a normal life in front of her family and friends.  All the while…

The bumper slammed as a couple came crashing through the upper door laughing.  I quickly stood leaving the disturbing thoughts behind and went outside into the oven of a day.  Walking up the hill past the senior parking and sports field a gentle breeze blew against my bare legs.  The hot august sun baked the blacktop burning the soles of my shoes.  The pool was open and students got a discount.  There could have been some fun inside but I didn’t have the money.  Continuing to the tall privacy fence that bordered the school I slipped through the hole towered home.  The school tried to keep it patched because of the dogs, but kids liked to smoke on the other side.  The beaten path had some scruffy dry weeds surviving around the edge, but it was well beaten down.  With the school behind I looked down the long fence-line and started walking without an idea of where or what I was doing, just avoiding home.  The tin can trailer would be a hundred degrees without any air-conditioning and it was the last place I wanted to go.  The weeds started to get taller but the path was obvious.  I doubted kids went this way much; it was the animal’s path.  It was narrow and the taller grass tickled my legs.  I wanted an adventure and this time I would have it.

There were over two hundred units in the park and I’d never been this far back.  The back corner homes seemed to reflect their location.  One was half burnt, a scary thing for anyone living in a trailer to see.  Others had been vacated and the kids bored out of their mind vandalized and sprayed amateur graffiti on the sides and busted the windows, which matched the rusting tin roof and stained siding.  The underpinning was a joke, whether it was the animals or wind, bare skeletons of faded plastic hung hardly skirting the sides.  I stopped at the back corner far past the school and where the failing fence blended into wild thorns and an unkempt forest.  Trails criss-crossed everywhere back here.  There was a lot more than dogs.  Opossums, raccoons, and rats went after the abandoned trailers.  One mans trash is another creatures treasure. 

I started to get a little unnerved by the creepy quiet and lack of life.  A few had cars in front and old grills and trash piled up out back but they were the old residents waiting to die.  My heart also started to hum with the unease.  I wanted to go inside some of them and look around, but the idea of waking a bum or finding a nest of raccoons wasn’t my idea of fun though.  Discarded trash littered the ground too.  The animals carried it all back and dropped it after chewing the flavor off a candy rapper or giving up on some styrofoam.  There were signs of other life too beer, cheap wine, and liquor bottles were broken and smashed in drunk fashion. 

I was too out of place here.  I continued on looking for intrigue.  The last trailer was half fallen.  The supports had sunk or cracked and a star of splattered beer painted its side.  I had been passing long ways but rounding the corner I should pass trailers much faster, only twelve or fourteen feet plus the tiny yard each.  I was relieved to be heading back into the heart of the park.  Carefully picking my way through some briars one of the fantastic duo jogged out from under the fallen trailer to investigate me.  It was the more skittish lab mix.  I’d never really seen him up closer but his long snout and shaggy tail hinted of some German Sheppard or maybe even Red Wolf mix.

“So this is where you live eh?” His eyes studied me curious and totally unafraid, unlike his attitude at the dumpsters.  I turned and patted my lap trying to get him to come over.  He trotted away without a care and sniffed the path I’d taken.  I looked down the long line of mobile homes, most were empty but I could see a car four or five down.  I took a step closer to the nearest trailer only one away from the far back corner.  The underpinning had been replaced with cheap plastic lattice.  It was a dreadfully hot day and raw humid body odor rose into my nostrils like steam; I knew he could smell me.  My face flushed deep red as my hand snaked down and felt my soaked slit; my fingers came to my nose automatically.  The sun was lowering and cast an amber glow over the afternoon.  It was a good place, alone and away from pesky eyes, but I wondered where his friend was.  The other dog was much friendlier.

I knew what I wanted and where this was headed but another voice told me to go home; resistance compulsion.  His nose to the ground following my trail out of sight I wondered what to call him and his buddy.  Wolf seemed to be fitting given his nature.  I knew he’d be back to investigate and I wanted to get out of sight.  I looked around, a torn bit of lattice lead to a hiding spot underneath the trailer.  Another animal trail kept the weeds and grass beaten down and went there instead of through the briars.  It was messy with decayed bits of insulation and other junk but the dirt was dry and I could lie on my back easy enough.  The chicken bone had taken my virginity; the memory was bittersweet.  Without my barrier, I wondered what his tongue could do this time. 

Wolf was quiet and must have nearly ran up to me while my back was turned and his nose dove under skirt and his tongue lashed into the gap at my crotch making me jump and squeal.  He didn’t mind my surprise at all.  I would have expected him to jump back scared but his long snout chased me down like a rare treat.  Standing was different, and I felt a bit more secure not being eye to eye with him, but twisting all I could see was his scruffy neck leading under my skirt.  His tongue washed over my slit and sensitive button like mad.  My heart was racing and I looked down the long row to the car parked in the distance.  It was crazy, stupid, exhilarating, and amazing all balled into one.  I widened my legs for him while he never wavered.  He lapped my seeping flower as I made it more available and his tongue washed over my clenched anus and cleaned the salty sweat from my fleshy butt.  It was the dog’s intensity that got me.  He was never paused or stepped back.  My opinion wasn’t important to him and it made my legs shake with adrenaline.  My hand snaked down and spread my swollen and begging labia.  I leaped forward crashing my chest against the side of the trailer when his tongue darted in a bit.  His predatory instinct followed me like prey.  Waves of sensation were washing over me when body went ridged arching my butt out into his nose before relaxing weakly onto knees that threatened to buckle.  I placed my hands onto the siding trying to hold on. 

The image of that girl under the Wolf statues at school was fresh in my mind.  I turned and saw his dangling sheath that hid his doggy penis.  A tiny red tip poked out of his thin black fur, shiny and slick.  I couldn’t believe what was happening; the clear and obvious intent wasn’t natural.  I couldn’t and wouldn’t that was too much.  This was fun but I couldn’t let a dog have me, not like that.  I had dreams of a life ahead and a prince charming one day.  I couldn’t let him put that thing in me; I wasn’t that kind of girl.  Strange interests and curiosity but I wasn’t going that far.

What would prince charming think of my accident with the chickenbone… the maggots?  Was it an accident though?  It wasn’t my intent, I wasn’t responsible, I was curious and in a flurry of mixed emotions.  It was my secret.  The idea of what happened bothered me in multiple ways.  My fantasy went wild, but it had gone too far.  I couldn’t deny that when I saw the worms.  I couldn’t let this get out of hand.  His tongue begged me down but I knew I would regret it.

His tongue curled and pressed into me sucking out before stabbing back for more in rapid succession.  Their tongues are made for getting bone marrow out I thought, the idea didn’t help the building wave that dominated my consciousness.  Unaware and unable to resist I opened up more walking my legs wider and arching further into his snout bending my waist.  My quads and calves shook and my butt wavered on rubber stilts when it finally crested. 

Opening my eyes I noticed that he stopped and before I could look back his paws were on my hips.  “Ohhh, noo nnooo you don’t.”  The slanted pointy red tip of his penis sent pulsating shots of clear slime onto the dirt, weeds and my legs.  I couldn’t stifle a laugh and giggle at his tries.  I couldn’t have out weighed him by more than twenty or thirty pounds, but he wasn’t very good on two legs.  He clutched at my hips hopelessly as I stood.  “I don’t think sooo!”  He gave up and dropped back and started under my skirt again pressing his snout into my backside with practiced aim.  I gave a defeated and exasperated sigh and arched my butt into his snout again.  He could do that all he wanted I thought.  Gnawing at the back of my mind was the question of how I would get home if he was too persistent and rowdy.  

With my face red hot and pinched in pained ecstasy I leaned against the cool metal siding.  It felt so good against my cheek.  The idea of taking my blouse off to cool my chest against it flashed when I heard laughter in the distance followed by mumbling voices.  Blinking back to reality I straightened.  The dog reacted to my movement by trying to jump me again from the side.  I playfully tried to push him off while he mouthed my arm.  It wasn’t an aggressive thing, but having his big canine teeth and lolling tong engulf my forearm at will was a scary reminder.  I tried to step back but became his unwilling dance partner.  The voices grew louder, guy voices, impossible to tell how old but by the goofy banter probably teenagers.  Each time I shoved the dog off he jumped by up at me like it was a game!  I looked back, I could make for the back corner, but that’s likely where they were headed to the smoke hole.  Or I could try to play it casual and head home, but the dog would never let that happen. 

I was wasting time twisting and trying futilely to shove him off when his dew claw caught my skirt and pulled it half down.  I tried to get it back up with him humping at my leg.  His sheathed penis was spurting more clear pee like stuff on my legs.  They were just around the corner now, maybe two trailers down but as close as one.  I had to hide and fast.  The soft rubbery tip hooked against my thigh revealing the bone hard penis under the scraggly sheath.  It was impossible to get him to stop!  He was more excited than ever, when I saw legs through the perforated lattice underpinning.  They were incredibly close and a few more steps they’d find me if they didn’t already hear the scuffle.  I dove under the trailer scuffing my knees and hands.  The dog darted in after me.  One of the boys stomped fake running after the dog to scare him off.  I could see them so easily if they just bent.  Luckily they had only seen the dog.

I felt the cold dog snout bumping my butt while I crawled away.  I had to get to the other side so they wouldn’t notice me.  I was so exposed.  His front legs fell against my sides and his dew claws dug at the fabric of my shirt trying to hold me back, but I progressed forward despite him.  I was being as quiet as I could but the debris and trash slowed me.  I felt his thing humping and trying to hook into me.  The boys paused and I prayed they didn’t come looking for the dog or follow the noise, they must hear something.  I lifted off my hands standing up on my knees and tried to push his paws from my hips while his humping stabbed at my soft butt and lower back soaking my skirt and skin in the process.  I needed to stop, to hold my breath and be silent so the boys would lose interest.  I didn’t know who they were.  All I could see of them were drooping pants comically riding just above the knees and silly K-mart cotton boxers.  I didn’t need to know who they were; it was more than embarrassment I feared if they found me like this now.  They stopped at the fallen trailer, still within a dangerous distance but somehow out of immediate earshot.

The dog’s forceful breathing was loud in my ears and I couldn’t believe they didn’t hear.  His breath was hot and moist, smelling of bologna and trash foods.  I cringed thinking of the slimy red tip I had seen before as he humped my lower back.  I couldn’t stay here, not like this.  One of the six block supports for the mobile home was a few feet away.  I would be out of sight on the other side.  I forced a paw off but he was resting his weight against my back and replaced his legs as fast as fought them off.  A huge coiled garden hose blocked my way.  I lowered my hands on it to move forward ever so carefully and quietly. 

His poking prick hit the inside crevice of my butt and shoved hard extending the sensitive meat from his sheath.  It funneled forcefully closer stopping just short of my soaked inner labia.  I jumped forward and my hands rolled off the flimsy coiled hose and I went into the center.  The lucky jab melted any doubt he may have had and he came after my body with every thing he had following my fall without hesitation.  The second thrust was short due to my fall but the third stabbed inside. 

The fleshy sheath met my entrance and sunk the slime spurting tip deep into my special place.  It was thin and stabbed me as if it were the dull end of a steel butter knife.  It didn’t test my depth; my body or its limitations and purpose didn’t matter to him.  I didn’t matter to him.  I was nothing, a wet hole, a desire to breed, a confused expression his natural instinct.  His dumb primitive brain couldn’t work out that I wanted him to stop, or maybe he just didn’t care.  In my compromised position my natural reaction jumped me forward but my twisted neck tangled in the dust covered water hose and my raised bottom only arched better for him.  His legs gripped me tight just above the hips, while his rough paws rested on my soft gentle belly.  Words fail to explain what happens in a moment of fear and feeling.  His whole body thrust, arching his back in a painful looking curvature hooking his entire member into me, including balled knot at its base, on the fourth thrust.  It happened in a flash, pain seared and my mind reeled.  Most of the hose was on my neck and shoulders while his impossible thing stabbed me forward forcing my hips to roll up and open to accommodate his rape.  It all happened so fast, my pain threshold and adrenaline came to a plateau.  He was a blur, his body and every muscle he had were pillaging me.  His back paws left the ground and his front held me while his whole body hooked into me like some wild spring.  He would have jumped right over me or his belly would have just slid down my back if it weren’t for the obscene plug that held him in place.  I was totally controlled by him in the most humiliating way.  There was nothing I could do; my back was arched painfully as much as I could.  Opening to him wasn’t an option now; not that it eased the pain, but if I didn’t the plug that connected us would rip me apart.  It was worse than when he started, it filled me more than I thought I could ever hold.  I only hoped that my body could take it.  He was after all a dog and dogs being much smaller than humans gave me some level of comfort.  His misshapen and bloated penis felt too deep.  Calling it a penis wasn’t right, it wasn’t anything near what I knew to be a penis.  He was a monster.  Some mutated form of nature, a thing that shouldn’t be inside me.  It was plunging my stomach; my whole belly was filled by.  There were no long romantic strokes that I learned sex to be, only short bashing stabbing deep painful thrusts, each etching out a deeper thicker path for the next.

It only lasted a matter of seconds, less than a minute but for that duration time stopped.  His doggy member beat its way inside me as far as it could go.  There was no repetition; he had no need, only function and his knot was full.  There was nothing left to me.  He stopped and got still on top of me.  There was nothing to be saved, nothing left for my prince charming one day.  My legs trembled in the odd position but I didn’t dare move.  It was so large that I didn’t know if it was as fully inflated, or if my body constricted him from getting any larger.

My eyes and mouth were filled with dust and dry dirt.  I blinked then my face winced and cringed.  I thought I felt his heartbeat but it was the rhythmic pumping of his semen pushing inside me.  I was already so full; I could feel each squirt.  I think knowing that hurt worse than any physical pain I endured. 

I looked at the world full of awe and wonder.  Maybe a bit naive, granted, but didn’t deserve this.  Each step I took into the wild unknown something took me.  I was a bright shining light perfect and pure, and it’s like something saw that and wanted it.  Not that this dog, this beast, would understand what I was.  He didn’t care how smart or beautiful I was.  I lay there contorted under that stray fla ridden animal while he took everything precious I had to give.  No other embrace in my life would compare to my first.  No prince charming would enjoy me like this, and this stray dog didn’t care at all. 

His huge doggy member already overstuffed me.  He started to shift uneasy and hopped his front legs off and to my side.  Each movement tugged my lower with him by the plug.  We were one now.  He couldn’t move without me and I without him.  I didn’t know what was happening and with my chest and face resting on the ground I tried to untangle the water hose from around my neck to back up and follow him as he tugged further.  It was probably the scariest part of the ordeal.  I didn’t know where he was going.  My mind played out an image of him trying to walk around the park pulling me behind him.  His testicles never stopped pumping while I fought the hose.  I got free and rose up on my hands and knees for the first time.  I hadn't noticed while tangled just how much semen he was pushing into me.  My legs and back were happy to get a bit of rest but each move I made caused my aching vagina to clamp and pain on his plug.  A slow and itching pain, like pulling a scab was my tiny body stretching to fit him.  The worst part was I how had to keep my hips rolled open to him.  I had to accept and submit now, the alternative was pain, ripping, blood and maybe the hospital.  As I rose up he began to turn.  The giant deformed member inside me also twisted and rolled as he did, the sensation brought me back to the ground.  His plug bobbed inside me like a bouie in the ballooned confines of my vagina.   We were butt to butt and he was still cumming.  I wondered how long it would last, surely his little balls couldn’t hold that much, but it kept twitching inside.  I was getting as comfortable as I could, which isn't saying much.  At least the pounding was over and things had finally slowed.  My breathing was heavy and stirred the dry dirt on front of my face, he was panting heavily too.

The smell of the soiled dust, the feel of it on my face as I lay conquered by a mutt, a lowly scavenging beast was overwhelming.  The moment, the quiet calm and building pressure of his cum in my precious place.  All of it combined to defeat me more.  Somehow I felt it in my mind, like it's where I should be.  Not destiny, but now that I was here I couldn't help but give in.  Not that it was an option to fight anymore.  I had to open myself up to him or risk the pain of pulling away, but in arching my back and pushing on it I found something that felt right.  I was had, used and abused and without permission.  My beautiful tight clam would probably go from a flower to a used grapefruit.  Something about being forced to lie still feeling each throb of of semen as it flooded me further was intoxicating.  I hated myself yet enjoyed something I had found in my deprivation.  Perhaps not something I found but something lost.

As my heart began to calm and accept the bulging of cum in my belly, which seemed to ever push deeper.  Like taking a deep breath then taking more and more air in, the further I relaxed the deeper his semen sank.