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This is a fun one that's really getting me back into writing.  I don't feel I have the same magic interest I used to but this story captured my imagination. 

Its rough and hasn't had an actual read through yet but enjoy

UNFINISHED
Feel free to leave comments and as always I think if you like my other stories this one will be right up your ally.  No tags or hints.  

Nutria

By MrBlack

(modified excerpt sorry for spacing)

For the small six-person team tasked with combating California's nutria infestation, a typical day consists of working in 100-degree weather, wading through marshes and avoiding traps built to catch 30-pound rodents, targeting about 2 million acres.
Nutria, a destructive rat-like mammal, is currently burrowing into central California's wetlands. In the spring, the Department of Fish and Wildlife began to warn the public about the dangers of the animal, which devastate agricultural infrastructure by burrowing into levees, roadbeds and canal beds.
But in the past few months, only 200 nutria have been exterminated, 100 of which were found in a pond on a single private farm in central California.
As the agency prepares for an intensive survey of the Sacramento-San Joaquin River Delta, officials say they have no idea what the actual numbers of nutria will look like. In April, there were two confirmed sightings of nutria just outside the delta, a region critical to California's waterways.
"We can't guess, we have no idea what we're going to find in there," California Department of Fish and Wildlife spokesman Peter Tira told SFGATE. "We need to survey and see to what extent they're in there, we haven't determined a complete range of nutria in the region."
"Our goal is to keep the nutria out of the delta as much as possible," Tira said. "That's the epicenter of our water control and flood control in California."
The Department of Fish and Wildlife isn't expected to get people on the ground in the delta until later this month, since they are still in the process of getting permission from farmers and other landowners to access private property. Most of the land in the delta is private.
Since it's difficult to get access to private land across California, the Department of Fish and Wildlife is unable to fully estimate the severity of the infestation. In other words, there's a very good chance that the state's infestation could be worse than previously imagined.
"The problem isn't defined, we're still in the process of trying to define the extent of the infestation," Tira said. "It's not going to be a quick and easy fix."
Nutria are typically two-and-a-half feet long and weigh 30 pounds, and have the ability to produce up to 200 offspring per year. Given the species' destructive behavior, it would be an absolute nightmare if nutria gained a foothold in the Sacramento-San Joaquin River Delta, since the region helps channel water to cities and farms across the entire state.
"We cannot have nutria reproducing in the delta," Tira said. "The threat to California's economy is too great."
Exterminating California's nutria population is proving to be extraordinarily difficult, in part since the animals reproduce at a prolific rate and are mostly nocturnal.
The Department of Fish and Wildlife stated that every single female nutria that's been killed has been pregnant with multiple fetuses. In addition, the nocturnallity of the creature makes it difficult to hunt during the day.
"You don't really see them when walking on a trail," Tira said.
The Department of Fish and Wildlife has secured just three grants to fund the nutria removal force, and as a result they can only have six people out hunting at a time.
"When there's a wildfire, the danger is real and we send thousands of people into the situation to remedy it quickly," Tira said. "But here, with nutria, we have a half dozen people, but it's still a crisis nonetheless."
Another massive challenge the department faces is obtaining access to private lands from farmers and other landowners in the region. The Department of Fish and Wildlife has sent out "thousands" of letters to landowners asking for access.
"Private property is key," Tira said. "But first you have to figure out who owns these farms and get access. People have been receptive, but again, if we can't get to that pond that had 100 nutria, then that's a major population we can't get to that could repopulate."
Under the law, members of the public with hunting licenses are allowed to hunt nutria since the species is classified as a rodent, but the Department of Fish and Wildlife doesn't encourage it.
"It's not something we're promoting or encouraging for a number of reasons," Tira said. "For one, nutria are easily mistaken for other wildlife that have protections like river otters, beavers and muskrats that have a hunting season and are highly regulated."
Tira also mentioned the fact that it's not particularly easy to hunt nutria. The Department of Fish and Wildlife itself finds it difficult to hunt the creature, and the agency is consistently trying to find ways to improve their trapping methods.
"Practically speaking, hunting nutria is not something that would be easy," he said. "They're primarily nocturnal, they live in highly vegetated areas, and are hard to differentiate from other animals, even for wildlife scientists."
With that said, should individuals choose to hunt nutria, the Department of Fish and Wildlife requests that hunters send in pictures of the carcasses. The pictures would provide confirmation that the animal killed was indeed a nutria, and would also help wildlife scientists understand the population by examining the animal's age and reproductive status.
One thing that has been encouraging, however, is the widespread public support, according to Tira.
"The public has been great, it's been encouraging to have the public's support," he said. "It's not easy work."
The department's phone lines are routinely flooded with calls reporting nutria sightings, although many of these sightings turn out to be beavers or muskrats.
Still, it's an encouraging sign in a battle that could have massive implications for the future of California.
"The hope is we got on it early enough, but again, we don't know the extent of infestation," Tira said. "But we're sure if we don't act, California is going to have a much bigger problem on its hands."

Mr. Tira was speaking to us, a group of volunteers to combat the Nutria problem.  I’m a newly enrolled student genuinely interested in environmental protection at Berkley.  When Mr. Tira of the Department of Fish and Wildlife requested help, the College offered qualified students extra two credit hours IF Mr. Tira signed off on enough volunteer hours and help.  There were only a few people in the whole college with the interest and qualifications to help him however.  First you had to have an actual interest.  Just the credits alone didn’t mean much after you learned just how many hours and personal dollars had to be spent on the “class”.  In addition to the intensive 4pm to 11am hours every Saturday night and into Sunday morning, you had to provide your own transportation.  This alone ruled damn near every student out, but the kicker was a hunting license and firearm in the state of California.  In a state that bans plastic straws firearms were far and few between!  The Nutria was such a problem the state had decided to go to war with them taking no prisoners. 

I was a freshman and in college earlier than most.  I had taken most every advanced placement course Washington State had to offer, and was on my way to a promising carrier, if only I could figure where that was going to be.  A few years back the Daiichi Fukushima disaster had captured my imagination, and since then I was hungry for every REAL environmental concern I could find.  Genetically modified salmon that reproduced stronger and overtook their natural counterparts were released into the wild years before.  The whole cover-up and miss-information about Geo-engineering aka chemtrails enthralled me!  GMO corn studies on mice showed that just three generations later they were totally infertile and had whiskers growing in their mouths.  The mice were also covered in tumors.  I often wondered what a career researching cancer would be like.  I had lost most of my extended family to cancer and perhaps it was the underground stories of Fukushimia radiation on the west coast that really woke me up.  But I was hungry and felt my future lied in the real devastation of our natural environment, by artificial and deadly toxins produced by man.  I knew that every college I dreamed of had only one thing on the environmental radar; carbon dioxide. 

Berkley was probably the center of the global warming phenomenon and business.  Yes, business; huge global companies, like Enron, funded and pushed the global trading of carbon credits with dollars that no man could resist.  The college ate the funding up and taught it relentlessly.  The most basic building block of life, that made the plants and trees grow big and the dinosaurs bigger, was our enemy.  Never-the-less I had a real interest in the school and idealistic fervor to make a difference. 

The year’s classes began in August, and Mr. Tira’s extra credits were meaningless, I really cared about the Nutria and what they did to the vital wetlands of California.  The state was being ravaged by drought and wildfires, the almond crop depended on honey bees which had been declining for ten years without a reason, and of course Fukushimia!

I could have done my studies on the honey bees alone.  CA state almonds were an absolute craze.  The demand for almond milk as an alternative to dairy was growing out of hand.  Honey bee farmers would come by the thousands to help pollinate the almond tree farms.  The bee keepers weren’t doing anyone a favor, it paid and paid big!  The travel was hard on the bee colonies and worst of all once released into the fields they could catch terrible diseases from other colonies.  Chinese honey was cut with cane sugar and drove the market to rock bottom so the keepers had little choice.  But bringing your precious bees to a hundred acre almond farm with ten other bee keepers’ colonies was extremely dangerous.  It was like taking your hard working wife, which your income and livelihood depended on, to a whore house for a few days! 

The world was upside down, but I felt I could make a difference.  I had everything a young girl could ask for to make that difference too.  My Father was in the Air Force, he wasn’t around much, but what he didn’t have in presence he made up for in support.  I wanted for nothing!  My Mom was always there helping me with the best tools of learning since I could crawl.  Expensive toys and encouragement are not enough alone, I was lucky enough to be born with a very high IQ.  I had done everything correct I planned my studies and credits since grade school for the best opportunities this world could offer.  I even planned my early high school graduation and transfer to Berkley to coincide with my driver’s license.  

Well, maybe not a full license a limited provisional license.  Just like all my other studies I had pushed the envelope to go faster and further than the law would allow.  I enrolled in Drivers Education when I was fourteen and a half exactly.  It was a hot Wednesday in early August.  My private Academy didn’t begin until late that month, August, 24^th if I remember correctly.   I had it marked on the calendar for months, but there wasn’t a Drivers Ed. Class in my district for two more months!  I convinced my mother to taxi me two counties over so I could get a head start on my Learner’s Permit.  Most schools around here still enjoyed a summer break, but I found a year round school that just happened to offer an early Drivers Ed. Class in late July.  In Washington State you could start the permit at fifteen and it only required six months of having an adult in the car with you before you could apply for a limited provisional license.  But you couldn’t obtain the provisional until you were at least sixteen.  I was set to get my High School diploma at the end of the 2017-2018 school year June 28th.  Everything had to be timed perfectly I was a stressed mess that year.  I would have my two month summer vacation and I planned to be off to College in Berkley by August.  My mom did almost everything I could ask, but she couldn’t taxi me in another state.  I could live on campus yes, and I could walk or take a bus yes… but I needed a car if I was going to take Mr. Tira’s extra class.  It was just an extra class, but to me it was the central idea of my studies. 

My summer break wasn’t much of a break.  My mother and I spent the entire time chasing phone conferences and even a lawyer.  In my young mind my entire world revolved taking this class.  I was spoiled and got everything I wanted, but I had worked really hard and because it was an honest pursuit I wanted it even more!  The trouble was I couldn’t get my provisional license in Washington state for another six months, but California didn’t have an age restriction, only the six month “accompanied by an adult over the age of 21” but they couldn’t start a learners permit until fifteen and a half.  In the end California decided that since I already had the required time of learning, plus I was of “sound academical and ethical character” they let me through.  Two weeks before Classes started at Berkley everything came together.  I had been corresponding with Mr. Tira himself, he preferred to be called Peter, for a few weeks.  He was excited to have someone as interested as I was in the problem.  All my drivers’ education problems were simply process complications by my age.

The real challenge now was getting a license to own and carry a firearm in California.  Peter explained that his “class” would teach and that I would learn volumes about environmental damages and invasive species, but the purpose was to find and exterminate the Nutria.  There would be no quarter for the animal.  His team was under funded and faced a monumental challenge.  They would split up in different key areas and set traps by day and camp by night and exterminate the next morning.  At first he was very discouraged by my age, but age didn’t determine ability I said.  Coming from a military family had learned early about guns and gun safety, also I had spent more nights camping out with my Dad that I could remember.  I really was perfect for his team, even if I was a bit young.  I was getting nowhere with the California state laws to own a firearm.  Even our lawyer’s attempts to sue got no response.  I was clear that Tira’s team would be so split that if I didn’t have a way to exterminate the Nutria on my own, if I caught any, that I would be useless.  All seemed lost until Peter got involved.  He had enough influence to create a kind of provisional hunting license.  The State wouldn’t allow me to own a firearm, but Peter would store and keep my gun so I didn’t technically have to own it, I just had to use it while under his “supervision” during the twelve to eighteen hour hunts. 

Everything came together that last week, and we only knew days before classes began that all our time and money was well spent.  I felt my entire future was hanging in the balance.  We didn’t know until Friday evening that I could actually attend classes that started Monday morning.  My mom and I were a hurried frenzy of packing and moving.  We got in late Sunday night and she got me to sleep and stayed the next day to help unpack.   I was in the college dorms but off to myself.  My mother had insisted because of my young age, that I have a few extra considerations when it came to location and integration with the student population.   

The first week was a blur, but I felt like one of Tolken’s hobbits in a giant’s world.  I wouldn’t quite say the world of men, the college boys may look big and buff but were more immature than the kids I left at high school.  I tried to be a ghost and kept to myself hiding in the shadows.  Hiding wasn’t very hard considering how small I was.  I took a lighter class load my first semester which were all 101’s.  It was all so exciting and before it knew it Friday was over.  My focus changed to my real class, Mr. Tira’s team had been working all week, but his “students” were to meet Saturday afternoon.  It worked well because I couldn’t drive at night and wasn’t suppose to go anywhere but work or school.  I didn’t have much home work but I did have a lot of reflecting to do.  I had been questioned about my age a few times and harassed once.  Looking younger actually kept many of the guys at bay because they thought I was some professor’s daughter, but I did get a few looks and many questions in my classes. 

I slept in Saturday as long as I could.  We were supposed to stay up that night listening and watching for the Nutria.  My camping bag had been packed since Washington.  I already had most essentials, but my mom and I still went on one last shopping trip to get a few things.  I knew I would be using the gear many times.  I had one set of clothes in the bag, and the clothes I would wear.  Peter had instructed me to eat a good lunch and meet at a Marina in Pittsberg near Brown’s island. 

I drove in with a lump in my throat, so much work had been put into getting me here and I hoped it would be everything I imagined.  I parked my little yellow VW bug at the far end of the lot since I would be leaving it unattended.  I pulled my backpack out and synched the straps over my shoulders and started walking.  A long pier ran along the bank and into a network of docks that held countless boats.  I saw a small group of other people with bags and backpacks.  I recognized Mr. Tira.  Four other adults waited with him.  So this was the team.  I thought I must be early because I didn’t see anyone else college age. 

“Ah, Rebecca, come on over!”  Peter and I had never met but what else could a girl like me be doing here?  I picked up the pace and walked a little faster as he was telling the other members about me.  “Ms. Rebecca here has worked very hard to join us and we are so very thankful to have her help,” I heard him say as I joined. 

I was a little out of breath, “And I’m glad to be here!”  The others smiled but I could tell they were more than a little skeptical. 

Peter Tira went around the circle to introduce me but my mind was whirling with excitement.  I forgot names and official jobs as soon as he told me.  I did notice the small pile of cargo boxes and a stack of metal mesh like collapsed cages.  Most of all I saw my gun case.  There was a case for each member of the team, but mine was shiny new and unscratched.  I only caught the woman’s name.  Cheryl was a full time employee of the Fish and Wildlife, but was re-assigned to Tira’s team a few weeks back.  She was in her mid thirties and looked very hardened and out-dorsy.  She was thin and fit but her face was aged by the sun and weather; I felt a genuine smile and appreciation from her.  Her cargo shorts looked old and battle worn and so did her high hiking boots.  My clothes and gear was mostly brand new except for the military surplus gear, and only because it was surplus and used by an army grunt before it was sold to me.

Peter didn’t pause, “I was hoping for more help from the college, but Rebecca here is new and we have to get her up to speed.  So how much do you knew about the Nutria and why we’re here?”

I was nervous, excited, shy, and determined; a very odd mixture and now I was in the spotlight.  I blurted out a litany of information so fast I forgot to breath and the others just smiled as my mouth and mind went faster than my public speaking skills allowed.  “The Nutria are pretty much a giant rat.  They multiply and infest just as bad as any household rodent, but there are no natural predators.  They have deforested and devastated other area marshes by wiping out the vegetation that supports not only other life, but holds the soil and landscape together.  If they Nutria get a foothold here, it would be almost impossible for the ecosystem to recover.”  I felt out of breath and my heart raced as they watched and listened.  I could feel the harsh judgment of my age.  

Peter smiled and encouraged me, “Well that saves us a few hours!” 

Cheryl also saw the potential in me and pulled a packet of information and maps out of her bag for me.  “There are some real dangers in camping outside at night in a river delta.  First and foremost it’s tough to get immediate medical help, and we usually camp alone.  I think it’s best if you follow me this week.  The day was overcast and scattered thunderstorms were in the forecast, “Here something as simple as an afternoon rain can be a killer; flash floods are no joke in the delta.”  We grabbed our gear and walked down the dock of a game warden pontoon boat.  I stayed quiet but I was surprised we had to take a boat.  Peter piloted the boat round a maze of river bends and confusing sand bars.  I felt the first twinge of fear, what if I got lost?  Once we reached our zone of permission, as Peter called it, we let the other three men off every five hundred yards or so until Cheryl and I were left with Mr. Tira.  We would camp much closer on river bank.  If there were any problems Mr. Tira and the boat would be closest to me and Cheryl. 

Mr. Tira had a case behind him that I knew was mine.  I grew up target shooting but had never been hunting.  He didn’t give it to me immediately but before we got off the boat he reminded me to that it was my rifle.  Not that I needed any reminder but it was a formal and legal supervised hunting.  I had owned the .22 wildcat for years.  California bans the use of magazines which made the bolt action perfect.  I was a simple rifle but had all the right components.  The .22 was a precision instrument.  It was almost comical but my Dad wouldn’t allow any less.  The rifle had a gunsmithed glass bedded stock, a heavy bull barrel with a crowned muzzle, the trigger was Teflon coated and two stage with a two pound pull.  It had all the bells and wistels of a military sniper M40 but instead of a .308 boattail it fired a .22 remfire!  The gun had been my Christmas present when I was ten, but something was new on it I hadn’t got a chance to see.  I couldn’t wait to sight it in.  Tensions were high with Russia and China so my Dad was running “training” missions round the clock, but he insisted I have a night scope!  The scope was worth more than ten times the cost of the little wildcat, but it was a fancy tool none of the other team members had ever seen. 

I was so hungry for knowledge Cheryl was amazed.  I kept a notebook where I jotted down everything from notes to research and drew pictures of various snares and traps.  She was more worried about the potential threats to a lone camper in the river delta than anything.  Snakes, spiders, scorpions, were pretty standard creepy crawlies you had to think about anywhere, but more so in the thriving marsh.  More unique threats like an orange-bellied or California newts were interesting, they are extremely poisonous but only if ingested.  Fire ants and Killer Africanized honey bees scary but only in a swarm.  Cheryl explained that bees could be hiding almost anywhere and fire ants during a flood would cling together as a colony and float on water, as soon as the colony touches something they will swarm onto the object get out of the water.  Black bears and even mountain lions were the top of the food chain, but were extremely rare, but still posed any camper an extreme threat.  More common were coyotes and the occasional wolf. 

Oddly enough the predators were the real problem, but not how I expected.  The Nutria lacked a natural predator which is how their numbers could explode.  They had an abundance of food, and ate half their body weight in a day, year round mating season, and no predators to check them.  Invasive nutria in southern states like Louisiana had alligators to red-necks, as Cheryl put it, to check them and their populations still exploded. 

The real problem with Nutria is how much they eat.  They can infest an area and wipe out anything green in a month.  With no forest, there are no roots, with no roots to hold the soil a thriving ecosystem and marshes turn to empty lifeless flats of dry land.  The Nutria truly are giants of the rodent world.  Rodents feed on the lifeblood of any ecosystem, but usually return that energy because rodents are the perfect prey.  Rodents remain at that absolute bottom of the food chain one step above plants.  Thus rodents are food, through the circle of life, for all the higher levels.  These Nutria giants didn’t belong here.  Humans were their only real (un-natural) predator and if we claim to care about the environment we had to wipe them out and back to their natural place in the world.  Invasive species are a cancer and wage a war of genocide on countless native species.  It sounded so cold, but they didn’t belong here.  The only natural balance would be to introduce more mountain lions, tigers, alligators, or maybe a true African lion tribe to the California food chain, and that was out of the question. 

It never rained and we woke the next morning to find our traps and snares empty.  Packing up was somewhat depressing.  I was so focused on what Cheryl had to tell me I never tried shooting my rifle.  It was sighted in by the gun shop back, but I needed to spend some time to make it my own.  My Father would bust my ass if he knew I was bringing an unproven weapon on a hunt or into battle.  We were packed and leaving before nine in the morning.  I hadn’t even seen a single Nutria. 

Walking back to my car the sun was getting hot, and my temper even hotter that my first day hadn’t shown any result or affected any change.  But I had learned a lot.  Next week there would be different campsites and a totally new chance. 

The week went by agonizingly slow.  My mind wandered in my classes to my rifle and how I needed to prove the sight, and how much I wanted to search the delta for Nutria on my own.  Finally, Friday came and rushed home to call Mr. Tira and ask if we could meet early, and if I was ready for a night hunt on my own.  He was hesitant but in his heart he truly wanted to fight the critters and knew how dedicated I was.  He reluctantly agreed.  I was so focused on getting into the hunt took a sleep aid and tried to sleep in as long as I could the next day. 

I woke almost at twelve thirty and I was due to meet the group at two.  I rushed to dress and grab my bag.  I had unpacked and repacked it last Sunday.  The drive was slow with traffic and I was almost late.  I jogged up to the group who were all still so amazed at this young girl.  We talked about the weather again and all the unique conditions of this trip.  The main group and been doing hunts throughout the week but today I was a part of it and that held a special significance.  Not only was I unofficial and not paid, but my being a young excited teenage girl filled the expedition with a new since of energy and interest.  I knew Saturdays would be special for the rest of the semester.  Camping and now hunting were such a part of my life I didn’t want to give up this group even if it didn’t help my college.  I explained how I needed to sight in my gun and my plans for the night step by step.  Peter and Cheryl both looked proud and full of faith.  It was my chance to be on my own.  I was accustomed to boundaries all my life and so much freedom had been given to award my hard work and dedication and the look in their eyes filled me with pride.

We climbed onto the boat and Mr. Tira let me lug my gun case around with my backpack.  As the set out the old pontoon boat’s mercury motor spit and chugged.  We each received our map.  This time I got my own.  It was a topographical map with red outlines of the property we were allowed to survey.  Government overreach had reached a fever pitch over the past ten years resulting in a standoff with the Bureau of Land Management and the Bundy ranch over cattle grazing rights a few years back.  The tensions had been so high hundreds of common people showed their support for the Bundy’s with sniper rifles and battle gear ready to die against the B.L.M.; Luckily the BLM backed off.  But this was no joke; the boundaries on the maps were to be obeyed without the slightest footstep over.  I had my cell phone but Peter gave me my own shortwave radio walkie-talkie to clip to my belt.  The sun had already passed the highest point and the afternoon was wearing on.  As I clipped the radio on my belt, the BDU pants felt like a smothering blanket of heat.  I was sweating and drank bottled water hiding under the cover of the boat. 

The three other men, their names a mystery to me stepped off first.  We were surveying a ten square mile area along the San Joaquin River near the Franks Track State Recreation area.  The main river ran around a big island with “Old River” on the far side with the recreation area.  The Recreation area was a large lake with homes and a massive marina on the south side on Bethel Island.  Peter chose a central tract with less chance of coyotes or the more dangerous predators for my first time out alone.  But it was still a prime spot to search out Nutria.  He had spent all week trying to contact the land owners but only got two tracts with permission.  The main island was an agricultural center, but I had no clue what they farmed.  The island was divided by a man made river.  The first three were let off onto the island itself while Cheryl, Peter and I were to be on opposite Northern shore.  The area was truly massive as Mr. Tira rode the boat a full circle around the island.  Due to the recent recession the area was only starting to thrive again.  Floods were common during heavy rains and the island was dotted with changing lakes and marsh. 

We circled and while I was looking at the main island watching the others disembark.  We three had access to a much larger solid tract of land with clearer property lines than the rest of the team.  It was a portion of Twitchell Island.  The tract was over two miles long and had been neglected for years.  Much of what we saw was well maintained farmlands but this area was wild with overgrowth.  Peter wanted me to find some Nutria and this spot had been on his radar for some time.  I took the western side of our permission zone along a central island road.  An old barn was situated where the road came down the middle of the island and turned to follow the river.  Cheryl would take the middle and Peter the far corner of the area. 

The pontoon boat scraped against the rocky shore.  I tossed my gun case as far on the bank as I could.  It was new, but the heavy duty case was made to take the abuse.  I synched the backpack down and took as many live traps as I could carry and jumped off the boat kicking it back into the river.  The first thing on my mind was the various dangers.  These shore rocks were prime habitat for black widow spiders.  The widow spider bite wasn’t deadly unless you were very old or a small baby.  I climbed up to the road with my gun case and waved the other two off.  The road was a fine chalky dust.  I paused to look at my maps.  I saw three small lakes just north and north-east of the barn and road.  I chose to head due north-east to the prime marsh area and would follow the small snaking rivers to the middle lake.  If I could make camp somewhere in the middle I could cover the most ground by trapping multiple areas.  If not I could always camp at the barn.  According to Peter the owners had moved to the Eastern US and had let the barn fall to ruin, but it would still provide shelter. 

The sun was shining, no beating down on me without a cloud in the sky.  The main river looked wonderful to swim in but I wouldn’t entertain the idea while Mr. Tira was still in sight.  Besides, I had a job to do!  I started across the road and came upon another larger road marked Twitchell Island Ferry Rd. and a rough field of short grasses just beyond.  Looking at the satellite map was disorienting.  The distance on the map looked so much shorter than it did as I walked across the field.  I came to the drainage ditch and power lines.  The ditch could be home to a snake or two but I wasn’t worried and found a bottleneck where I jumped across.  My pants were blankets of heat and sweat in the sun and high boots and socks made it worse.  I needed to find a place to rest in the shade, but looking at my map and across the field I didn’t see much.  There was a spot of taller trees near the middle lake but I had a long way to go.  I could see the scruffy undergrowth ahead some small to medium saplings fighting for growth.

I finished the field and reached the edge of the marsh.  It wasn’t the thriving wetlands I had imagined.  Of course this wasn’t exactly they wild lands either.  This used to be a farmstead, and I wondered for what, maybe grapes?  California was known for its vineyards and orchards.  This has once been something but was all grown up in tall waving grass and sapling trees, it was hopeless to guess. 

It was a big step crossing over from the grassy roadside into the marsh.  There were a few feet decent into the old orchard the saw grass and other unknown greenery went wild each trying to choke the other out.  I was looking for any sign of the Nutria but knew I wouldn’t have much chance until I reached water.  They primarily worked the water ways.  Peter had examined the main river extensively for months and hadn’t found any real signs but a farm a few months back just like this one yielded over one hundred of the big rats.  Somehow they found their way inward to the heart of a small series of lakes just like this one and multiplied for what peter guessed to be at least a year and a half.  It was a heart stopping thought eighteen months and over a hundred giant rats on one old farm. 

I stayed outside the dense vegetation the best I could.  The traps were awkward to carry.  The rough metal cages seemed to catch on everything.  My rifle case was getting heavier and heavier to carry as well.  I followed the edge to a small bank of water.  The sapling trees and briars went wild at the waters edge.  I was glad to have my long pants but it was so hot I was chugging water to avoid dehydration.  There wasn’t much shade as I pushed into the brambles.  My dad had shown me to throw a rifle case into a briar patch and crawl over it like a bridge.  The brush was just high enough to be near impossible to cross but not tall enough to provide any shade.  The sun was baking me inside my clothes.  The largest of the small trees were only a few inches in diameter and the scruffy tops only teased shade.  My face was getting red and dripping sweat.  My tank tip was pulled and tugged by the briars and my bare shoulders and arms were scratched, when I reached the first real body of water.  I didn’t still didn’t see any sign of the Nutria.  The water was luke warm as my sweat and the muddy banks cracked from days without rain.  I didn’t see any tracks or any sign of life.  There were birds that fluttered as I approached and bugs.  Oh the bugs!  I applied a thick layer of mosquito repellant on the boat but they were still after me and the grass hoppers rasped and jumped.  The whole place stunk like a… well, like a rotting muddy bog! 

I laughed to myself in heat hysteria, where there were bugs there were birds, and where there were birds, there were cats, and where there were cats, there were dogs, and where there were dogs, there were bigger dogs…  I mumbled as I walked.  Without knowing I stumbled upon a larger lake.  I stopped to check my map pulling my hiking boot out of six inches of sticky mud.  This lake was large enough I couldn’t throw a rock to the far side and it bent.  Up ahead there should be a choke point where I can cross and follow the far shore to the lower leg of the big middle lake.  I proceeded forward; my boots caked in mud like weights, but couldn’t find a suitable place to cross.  I had to keep going further and further west to round the lake.  I know exactly where I was after a moment looking at the map.  I could cut through as the crow flies and find the big lake.  As the crow flies, over the briars!  I went onward and began to worry I had missed something when I came a clearing.  My head started to throb, the first signs of a potential heat stroke.

The clearing wasn’t on the map but the marsh grasses were cut right down to the stub with the Nutria signature forty-five degree angle bite.  If it wasn’t a sure sign of them I didn’t know what else I was looking for.  The clearing extended almost two acres!  There was the nautral rise and fall of the land and dotted ponds and waterways but this was it!  I marked it on my map with a big red circle!  Just beyond this should be big lake.  I wanted a good location to make my campsite.  I didn’t want to make it in the winding maze of bog and underbrush or in the middle of a sun baked frying pan.  Finding the clearing gave me new energy; I poured the rest of my water bottle on my face soaking my clothes.

I easily made my way through the clearing to the shore of the lake.  It was quite large compared to the ponds I had seen.  It was mostly covered in duck grass and frog greens but it was large enough that the wind washed half the lake to clear water.  Well, the water wasn’t exactly clear but it looked inviting.  I dumped my backpack off and threw my small rifle case down.  My father told me once when packing that ounces make pounds and pounds kill you.  Words I had never understood until now.

My head was really pounding and I knew it was from heat exhaustion.  I had no clue how hot it was but, I was still mostly in the open sun.  The saplings followed the banks and ponds, but I had been seeing more and more old stumps.  I think the farm had been an orchard of some kind.  Across the lake I could see a section of tall trees and I wished to be there.  It was closing on four in the afternoon, so I had several hours of daylight left.  I doubted the others had pushed as far in as I had.  I had quite a lot to do, but in the heat I didn’t think I could do much of anything.  There was camp to make, my tent to set up, and traps to set, as well as sighting my rifle.  I held my splayed fingers to the sun; I should have four hours before dusk.  I had three tasks and four hours, one of those hours I was about to take for cooling off.  I didn’t think much further than that as I ripped at my shoe laces and mud to pull my boots and yank socks off.

My cramped sweaty feet felt liberated in the open air.  Without thinking I slipped my belt and peeled my pants down.  My bare legs and exposed underwear felt like they were steaming in the open air.  But the hot suns rays could not be ignored.  Any wet dried instantly and though my body was finally allowed to sweat and evaporate I still felt the suns rays on my skin.  I flopped back hiding in the taller grasses.  One last thing… I nearly ripped the sticky wet tank top pulling it off.  I had to be free of the sports bra.  It was designed to sweat and cool but nothing could do that better than taking it off.  The murky water was just beyond a muddy bank and I didn’t care if I was in nothing but panties, this may be the most remote place on earth at the moment.  All of my knowledge and learning said that I was safe my biggest concern was a snapping turtle.  I was irrationally worried one of the other researchers would wander over to find me, but thinking of the map and monumental struggle I had getting here it was near impossible.  They even had a later start!  Peter was probably still carrying gear off the boat.  No, I was alone and I knew I had to cool off at any cost.

I stepped forward and my flushed and hot foot padded into the soft wet mud.  The first step didn’t sink but the second step was softer and cool clay mud smushed up between my toes.  I paused as I reached the waters edge to look back at my footprints in the mud.  My flushed pale skin screamed to get out of the sun and my next step was into the warm muddy water.  I was hyper aware of the scene.  I couldn’t imagine anyone seeing me like this but a part of me I didn’t fully understand demanded it.  Maybe it was the heat, but I felt undeniably sexy. 

It was a feeling I hadn’t had time to think about.  The past years stresses and events had been so demanding and urgent I had never stopped to consider my own human progression.  My heart fluttered and I felt flushed on top of being hot and flushed.  The idea of “sexy” had been known to me from incessant television commercials and I hadn’t stopped to think about it since buying a bra for the first time.  My small slender and nearly fully formed figure was almost naked walking into a wild body of water.  I say almost because my breasts were rounding quickly but I had no idea when they would stop.  My mother explained I was filling out faster than my breasts could grow.  I didn’t have the fatty tissue but my breasts were filling with lobes and ducts and that’s why my nipples were puffy.  My breasts were barely a handful and my areola filled like a dabble of whipped cream on a pastry.  My biological clock said the time was now!

It idea made my body flush and flutter, but it was just that a passing idea.  I needed to cool off so I could complete the rest of my responsibilities.  I had four hours before dusk maybe five if I pushed my luck.  I could take an hour for myself to cool and relax, an hour to set traps, and hour to sight my rifle, and an hour to set up camp.  The water level pushed up past my knees as went deeper.  Sparse marsh grasses and cattails tickled my bare legs as I moved forward.  The bottom felt mushy and nasty mud but the water was salvation in the heat.  I finally reached a depth I could lay back and float in.  The Sun was unbearable.  Sinking in the water, my dry hot skin accepted the warm pool with little resistance.  Before I knew it I was breathing deep to float almost fully on my back submerged except for my taunt breasts and face.  I found a new respect for the lake and marsh.  Animals had to have this water to survive.  It was too hot outside the marsh for the dense plant life and food which drew the Nutria.  The cattails were rooted somewhere deep below my floating body and tickled my backside as I gently swam.  This land was fertile and full of life and food but without any natural predator.  I wondered if the introduction of the alligator would curb the Nutria, but then that would make my delightful dip extremely dangerous.  The top predator of these waters was a Gar which had no interest in something larger than a brim fish.  In the main river people talked about a Bull shark from time to time, but this lake was heaven in a sun baked land. 

I closed my eyes and held my nose to dip under.  It was time to move back and dry off.  I had floated almost to the center of the lake.  The forested area, which was only a couple of trees, wasn’t so far and the pool wasn’t much deeper than I was tall.  At any point I could stand and feel the muddy bottom.  I couldn’t swim my backpack across and the muddy bottom was a nightmare to consider walking across.  At this point in the afternoon it was a useless idea to set camp anywhere else.  Maybe next time I could hike around the road and come down. 

Swimming back didn’t take more than a few good strokes.  The water was hot tea with a muddy bottom that felt like layers of thicker tea until my toes finally met cool solid clay.  The way out was a long shallow rise onto the drying mud pan baking in the sun.  I was covered in thick grey mud from the knees down.  I couldn’t put my shoes back on top of it so I decided to set up camp.  The sun was baking me just like the mud.  I applied more sunscreen but I knew I would be burnt as a reminder all week.

I had never felt so alone before.  Peter asked we periodically check in on the radio.  I wanted to know where everyone else was.  I called in and lied saying I hadn’t seen any sign of the Nutria.  This place was my discovery and if I told them I may not have any hunting left by next week.  The nutria could multiply and move by that week too; I was perplexed.  I settled to tell them tomorrow.  Peter and Cheryl had set camp right off the main river.  I set my camp right against the edge of the pond.  It was angled against a short drop opposite the pond and only supported scruffy vegetation and a row of dead orchard stumps.  I assumed it often flooded with the rain.  It only took a few minutes for my legs to dry which left me looking like a human statue from the knees down.  I slid my pants back on.  I was too aware of my nakedness to go without them for long.  They were dreadfully hot, but I left my bra with the bag.  The light tank top was cool as I poured the sweat again.

The cooling dip in the pond provided me enough energy, which wouldn’t last for long.  The caged metal had been a monumental burden to carry in the heat, but they were blissfully simple to set up.  The traps were collapsed and only required a simple tug on the top layer to spring up.  Taking them down would be a challenge I would worry about that in the morning, but the crew wouldn’t mind a few errant traps were left out.  I had four and I had no real clue where to put them.  The traps were designed to be suspended in the beach waters of a marsh or against a river bank.  I circled my camp anchoring the traps with a tie as fast as I could.  I didn’t bother with the boots, the mud was too thick, and I sloshed around in my bare feet and long pants.  The warm mud actually kept me surprising cool.  I made a mental note to find a good pare of sandals for next weekend. 

The first went on the beach beside my own foot prints.  I sprang the trap to life.  They were ingeniously designed but also a little devious.  The trap was a large rectangle box almost two feet by its largest dimension.  The center held a simple wire post and cloth, inside the cloth was a small twist vile which contained synthetic pheromone which would bring any Nutria.  The wire post held open a rather powerful duel set of springs and closing horizontal doors. 

I didn’t know it but as I followed the bank of my campsite, it appeared to be peninsula surrounded by shallow and then much deeper marsh and steep bank on the far side.  I placed the next trap at the tip of my campsite island in more shallow water.  Rounding the bend, I almost fell into the much deeper waters.  The bank of my campsite had eroded and was very steep.  It was just a wall of tangled old roots from the stumps I had seen.  The sun was sinking lower so I hurried and set the last two traps.  I also used a few snares on the bare tree roots.  It was the perfect bottleneck on a game trail; I had no idea what I might catch.  Muskrats, otters, raccoons, and opossums were the natural night creatures of this area.  I would be so disappointed if I had to spend the next morning trying to un-trap an angry family of raccoons!  No doubt Peter would have expected I might need help and half counted on he, and Cheryl arriving shortly after dawn.  They would have to check their own traps though.  I was so excited about listening for the team’s shots in the morning I lost track of time and count until I had no traps.

I held my fingers to the golden sun as it lowered.  I had less than an hour before dark.  The most unique feature of my little .22 wildcat was a nightscape.  I could, if forced, sight my rifle at night but that would scare the nutria and may alter the course of California waterways!  My pants were soaked and thick with mud inside and out.  I pushed with everything I had to get my rifle.

My head was starting to pound again but the sun was sinking fast.  From my blank campsite I clicked open the rifle case.  The little wood stock and dark grey metal gleamed clean and supple.  I felt terrible pulling it out into the humid air and my sweat soaked hands.  Nothing is worse than high humidity and salty sweat but this rifle was meant to be used.  I would have to clean it as soon as possible.  I hadn’t factored that in to the next day but there shouldn’t be any hurry, and seeing the wildlife and game center would be fun.

I didn’t waste any time I couldn’t set up a target and scanned for a stump or rock that resemble my target.  I hadn’t even seen Nutria except in pictures!  I walked to what I now understood to be the peninsula of my island.  The waters edge was a good six to eight feel below the steepest bank.  All the farms trees had been cut to stumps only six inches high.  The island was struggling to hold against erosion and the old tree stumps and roots were holding it together.  I found a suitable target and laid prone resting my rifle on a stump.  I hoped it was already sighted in. 

The tiny rifle looked clunky with the big bulky night scope.  It didn’t look like a scope more like a grey brick with buttons.  Luckily the finer points of use had been explained to me before at the gun shop.  I could use the scope like normal and had to turn on the night vision, but never in the day.  The reticle was a military mil-dot not that I would need to make any windage or elevation adjustments with a  .22!

The team had been notified that I would be sighting in before dark.  I started to get still feeling the calm come over me hands and heart and I lowered the crosshair onto my stump.  My makeshift benchrest stump wasn’t perfect but I could hold steady.  Without lowering my sight my left hand reached into a side cargo pocket for a single remfire .22 while my right pulled the bolt open as smooth as I could.  I pulled back to double check my surrounding one last time.  My target was against a bank with no chance for an errant bullet to pass through.  Pushing the small shell into the chamber I couldn’t help but fantasize about being a military sniper as I pushed the lever to close the bolt.  A cold more shot was the most important and I couldn’t mess up this first shot.  After a barrel heats up it changes the shot placement ever so slightly and a cold bore shot would be the first I took against a live target.  I couldn’t help but giggle inside my head all this perfection for a .22 at fifty yards!  Totally ready I settled again and got serious clicking the safety off.  I calmed my breathing and inhaled deep and slow two times watching the natural path of scope movement in a perfect figure 8 across my target.  On the third breath I held on half exhale my reticle froze cold as ice on my target.  My finger felt the trigger and slowly applied pressure.  Not the crook or tip, but the center pad of my trigger finger, anything else would pull the shot left or right.  Also not jerking the trigger would pull the shot down and to the left.  I had shot this rifle a number of times and was at home with the four pound trigger pull, it was heavy but smooth.  Nothing was worse than a long creepy trigger pull with a rough mechanism that left humps and bumps.  Right on cue, the shot was a surprise.  I had been taught not to flinch or close my eyes and watch my target.  Sometimes you can see and I hoped I didn’t have to swim out and search for my hit.  I prayed the rifle was on target.  The rotten stump didn’t care one bit that it had been shot, but a small piece of wood popped out just above the entry.  I couldn’t contain my joy, dead center! 

Quickly I hit the breaks, a moment of sudden movement or noise could alert your target or its friends!  I took two more shots, much faster and with the same methodical steps.  The second was on the small chunk of wood.  The fresh stump innards were lighter brown and easy to see; my second shot made the wood chip disappear.  I couldn’t see the third but I had no doubt it was laid right on top of the first two.

I felt secure with my gun sighted in and headed back to camp.  The ground thudded as I walked away like compacted particle board.  It made me pause to look down, but saw my thick pants instead.  I had some more clothes in my pack but I would have to wash these and let them dry though the night.  The sun had sunk to the horizon and lit the sky up with a beautiful array of yellow golden clouds.  I didn’t have time to waste and slid the thick pants off finally finished in the bush and worked in my panties.  Bikini bottoms and panties didn’t have much difference ya-know!  My legs felt liberated and sweaty.

I yanked the tent out of the bag and tossed the pieces onto the ground.  I needed water first.  I felt I had chugged a gallon of water, but in this heat I needed more.  My head was throbbing to the point could see a black spot or two if I looked to fast to either side.  Early warning signs of heat stroke.  I dumped my last remaining water onto my head and let my hair down.  I wasn’t too worried the heat has passed and I would cool quickly.  My water was running low, but I had a small water filter bottle that would last the duration. 

Half naked, covered in mud and in risk of heat stroke I was really giving this adventure everything I had and it felt great!  My tent was blissfully simple and if pressed I could put it up in the dark by lantern light.  I took a minute after I laid the tent out flat my head throbbed unbearable when I bent down.  I needed to take a break. 

I sat back looking out over the water on the shallow side of my island.  The water beckoned.  But the mud was stopping me.  My pants had taken the worst and needed to be washed so I would have to brave the mud sooner or later.  But my legs and feet had dried and the clay dried and fell off as well.  The sky went orange, and then burnt orange red and purples as my break went longer.  Looking at that sky in this place was a memory I would always carry with me. 

I judged I had less than thirty minutes before I would have to use a light source.  I got up and breathed deep savoring the hard work of the day.  My tent went up and I tossed my gear inside.  I laid out my pants and stopped to call in on the radio to the team.

I double checked the channel to make sure I hadn’t accidentally changed it.  The orange backlit window showed the power was good and on channel number 8, “Rebecca checking in, Over.”  I turned the volume up and heard crackling

Peter must have had his radio ready, “Go ahead.”

Learning to use the radio was a bit part of last weekend.  “Traps are out and camp set, Over.”

“Rodger, Hot one today double check your life straw and water supply, Over.”

“Rodger, Supply good.  Went further inland just off road, set camp on an island, signs of Nutria, but could be old.  Over.”

“Rodger, should have stayed more visible on coast, relay map grid coordinates, Over.”

I knew I would get in trouble going further in, but you can see nutria from a boat on the coast!  “Rodger, Stand by.”  I moved inside my tent and click the flurescent lantern on to see the map.  “Coordinates on Wildlife map #26 are 28-145, repeat map #26 grid 28-145, Over.”

“Affirmative, take the road out in the morning, you’ll be last one out by the looks of it.”

“Rodger, Copy.”

“That looks like heavy bush, the moon will be bright tonight, DO NOT stray from camp to hunt, Over”

“Rodger.  I will not leave this small island peninsula, less than 30 square meters, Over.”

“Affirmative, Peter Over and Out.”

“Rebecca Out.”

I felt somehow worried, after the radio call.  Up to this point the whole day had been an adventure.  A very hard and tough day but fun and fantasy, now as dark settled the realization how just how alone I was settled into my mind.  I hadn’t changed or washed clothes yet and my bare legs suddenly felt a chill. 

I was sunburnt and would feel that warm glow all night.  I had set camp but hadn’t set myself up yet.  With the door to my tent flap open I set the lantern just outside and began to unpack my bag.  I unrolled my sleeping bag and realized I had to move the light further; the bugs were threatening to choke me if I didn’t.  I was hard to see but after I sprayed myself and most of the tent down with Deet spray the lessened but didn’t stop.  I zipped the netting closed and had a little light to see by.  I unpacked as quickly as I could shaking my pack upside down.  I had a pair of cargo shorts a long sleeve shirt and some night clothes.  I hadn’t planned on needing a change.  The sounds of the night had been slowly increasing but the frogs and bugs were absolutely roaring.  I would never be able to pick out the Nutria’s grunt and moan.  I quickly unzipped my tent to grab my rifle out of it’s case, not forgetting a small handful of shells.  It’s not that I didn’t feel safe, just that I felt safer with it by my side. 

My world suddenly got a lot cozier with the rifle.  The sling was half bandolier and I slid my handful of shells into the slots.  I had to get my clothes washed and drying or else I’d be wearing shorts and a long sleeve shirt through the brush in the morning.  I was filthy too, but nothing a quick dip wouldn’t fix.  I slid my sweat soaked panties off and peeled my blouse off quickly tossing both out of the tent.  My bodily odor rose and filled the tent and my nostrils with feminine scent.  I smelled like a cavewoman!  I slung the rifle over my shoulder after notching a shell inside the bolt.  There now, I’m a cavewoman in the twenty first century. 

Jumping out of the tent as fast as I could, I couldn’t have bugs trying to eat me all night!  I stood naked in the night with my rifle.  I gathered my soiled clothes and padded down to the waters edge.  My heart sunk…  I was already four inches deep in warm mud squishing between my toes and I still had the rifle.  I couldn’t take bath with it!  It was tight slung over my back with the strap around my chest between my breasts.  I would bathe in the morning daylight and just was my clothes tonight. 

I waded out knee deep and splashed a little water up on my legs to clean the mud off, and bent over to wash my clothes.  In seconds the water was murky and I moved deeper.  The water was halfway up my thighs and finally my clothes were coming clean from the mud.  I made my way back to camp quickly trying my best to avoid the mud which was impossible.

On dry land my feet and ankles were thick with sticky muck dispiste my best efforts.  I did succeed in slinging some of it off my kicking my legs, but I couldn’t re-enter my tent until it dried and caked off.  I went to the nearest sapling and hung my wet clothes up to dry.  After a few minutes of kicking all but the mud between my toes had tried.  I rubbed and cleaned myself up as much as possible though the grey stain stayed.  I gather up the lantern, turning it off and running away from the bugs before I ran to shelter in my tent. 

I put my night clothes on, a simple spaghetti strap tank top and a pair of my favorite shorts.  The shorts had been a Christmas present years ago but the fond memories and soft cotton kept them on my hips after I had grown out of them, but they were great for night shorts.  Finally dry and somewhat clean I laid back on my bag to study the map.  I began making notes about areas of thick brush and where I had seen signs of nutria.  My head had been filled with plans to hunt during the night, but after such a long day I was absolutely exhausted!  I left the light on and tossed the sleeping bag over my lower body and instantly went to sleep.

I hadn’t brought a ground pad, and had some trouble sleeping.  I kept tossing and turning often too hot and other times not comfortable.  I was so tired I tried to push though it, but finally I sat up.  I had to pee and there would be no putting that off until morning.  I checked my phone.  I didn’t have service but I had set an alarm for five AM.  It was pushing midnight and I hadn’t slept a wink.  Five hours of sleep would be enough considering I had planned to stay up hunting all night.  Maybe I should stay up? 

I unzipped the inner layer of the tent and the moon was shining bright.  I wouldn’t need the lantern to see, and that meant less bugs.  I slung the rifle over my shoulder and unzipped the mosquito netting and stepped out.  The night air was cool on my thin top and booty shorts.  Taking the big step out of the tent the tiny shorts were so thin and worn between the legs the small strip of fabric failed to cover.  I had sweat even more and the open air kissed my wet crotch lewdly.  I just grabbed some night clothes without thinking, but it may be time to retire these shorts.  They were fine at home in my room but I couldn’t imagine wearing them at college.  I just needed to pee and do a quick recon, I could change when I got back if I chose to stay up.

I moved silently like a ninja though the light brush to the tallest tip of the island.  My bare feet helped judge where and how to step.  I didn’t even break a twig.  Stumps stood like gapped teeth against the water in the distance.  I began to crouch low and I neared the edge, aware of my scantly clad gusset swinging in the breeze.  The night air cooled my chest though the top.  I wasn’t aroused just a stage in life where sensitivity and puberty make things happen.  My small tender nipples were hard enough to cut glass and almost hurt. 

My awareness was peaked, though I had to pee, I flipped on the nigh scope and suddenly the distant shore glowed in green clarity.   Four, six, eight bodies moved on the far short and I could see a few more heads swimming in the water.  The bank was the same where I had test shot my rifle only hours before.  Frozen in a mix of fear and excitement my heart picked up pace and raced in my chest.  I didn’t want to startle them but being so far away if I hadn’t unknowingly startled them the chance I would now were very slim.  I took the rifle off my back and laid it down on a stump.  The most logical place to shoot from wasn’t on a stump but rather between them.  Heels down. 

My body reacted to the excitement by reminding me to pee.  Almost as if it knew that I would get caught up and try to ignore the need.  I had already put it off and was now almost peeing myself.  I thought of returning to camp urinating, grabbing more ammo, and redressing, and even calling in the sighting to Peter but that was too risky.  I was in no danger and had thirty shells on the rifle sling. 

First things first, I gently laid my rifle down on the stump and jerked my silly shorts down, so many of my clothes were dirty I didn’t want to accidently pee on my favorite shorts so I lifted a foot and pulled them half off.  The baby blue shorts rested around one ankle; unknowingly one of my snares tethered to the stump also encircled that ankle waiting to tighten.  I squatted and relaxed.  In middle school when we were first introduced to poetry we had to write a poem, that was also when cuss words were cool and risky to say, I joked and told my friends my poem was “To piss is Bliss!”  My bladder emptied and my eyes nearly rolled back in release. 

The world was upside down before I knew it.  The stump and whole tip of the peninsula gave way and I tumbled forward with it.  I clutched at the stump.  The thud my feet made earlier in the evening was from the ground being hollow below.  The stumps’ roots had been holding it up but at that given moment gave way.  Myself, my rifle and three tree stumps tumbled in a gnarled crash onto bank and into the water below. 

Oddly enough my first thought as I fell was of the startled Nutria across the water and that I had lost my chance!  The world was dark and I tumbled luckily free of the crushing tree stumps.  I rolled forward off the bank.  Something yanked my leg and halted my fall enough for me to straighten and spear right into one of my own metal cage traps.  My arms and head shot in like a cannon ball smashing the center post and causing the metal doors to crash closed just below my arm pits with my head pinned at an odd angle.  I wasn’t hurt from the roll but my equilibrium was still spinning.  Something was tight around my ankle and held it higher up on the bank, but not painfully.  I wasn’t dangling by it but I was laid out on the step of the bank.  Call it luck or not but the cage saved me from another stump that came crashing down.  Several of the hard waterlogged roots smashed onto it and could have killed me. 

The night suddenly got deathly quiet.  The commotion had even scared the crickets across the pond.  I blinked the water and mud out of my eyes and tried to move.  I had a sudden panic of claustrophobia inside the cage, I couldn’t get out!  I could barely move my head and my arms were locked without any leverage in the confined space.  The next thought threatened panic again.  Was it high or low tide?  Best case the team would find and free me the next morning when I didn’t check in; worst case the water would rise and slowly drown me in this cage! 

I pushed and shoved with no luck.  My free leg kicked and dangled useless.  The snare around my ankle was still tethered to the stump and impossibly tight around my ankle.  My lucky shorts stopped it from cutting and provided a bit of comfort, hopefully I still had blood flow to my foot. 

The moon light was bright and I could see a little as my eyes continued to adjust.  There was a row of creatures on the far bank watching a waiting.  Wondering if what happened was a threat or a thing of interest.  Nutria weren’t harmful to humans, and not even one case of an attack had ever been recorded but those giant rodent teeth scared me. 

The post inside the trap that had been broken by my head was still wrapped around my face.  The small cloth was near my nose and stunk to high heaven.  My mind worked it out subconsciously; I guess I had always known it was a pheromone.  I could expect visitors alright. 

The night sounds were slowly coming back when I felt a tickle at my restrained foot.  At least I hadn’t lost feeling in it.  The tickle was from whiskers, Nutria whiskers.  I didn’t have to see, not that I could have.  My head was angled back and I could see my free leg but not that foot, but I still knew. 

The tickle made me jump and kick.  It stopped as soon as it began, but came back.  I kept this game up for a few minutes.  Each time the tickle came back stronger and more brave.  I felt the wet nose of one of the creatures poking and prodding me like a skittish dog.  It moved further and further from foot to ankle, to calf and knee pit.  During the fall I had peed on my leg, that must be what it was after, like a dog smelling its neighbor.  I was scared beyond belief but the tickle made me yelp and holler, jump and hide trying to be free of it.  The creature was just curious and had no fear of me or my feeble attempts to swat it away with my free leg. 

The wet nose bumped at my thigh and I was able to get a good kick off.  My night shorts were around my ankle and my bare bottom was up and exposed mooning the moon.  The animal was larger than I expected and the hollow thud knocked some air out of its lungs.  I hoped it would be enough.  They ate tall grass and dig tunnels; it should have no inertest in me! 

A rush of water startled me.  Apparently the group across the pond came to investigate too.  The Nutria prodding my leg made me worry, because I didn’t understand where it came from.  The only logical answer was there had been a tunnel under my island.  How many were out here?  Would my presence so near their home be a threat? 

More arrived out of the water and I heard their awful sounds, their form of communication.  Must have been two separate colonies living on different banks.  More dry Nutria came from behind and prodded my legs as I swatted them away.  The two colonies were more interested in each other than me.  They seemed to be angry at the intrusion and acted aggressively toward each other.  They seemed to be standing off preparing to fight like cats.  A wet one approached the cage and grabbed it with its paws and it all became clear. 

The pheromone was causing a mating frenzy.  The creature at the cage had several inches of exposed pink genitalia poking out.   I had no clue how potent the smell was but apparently the Nutria wanted it.  Without any mate it was pushing it’s long thin penis inside the cage probing trying to find purchase.  Its penis was incredibly long for such a small animal almost a third of its body length.  The penis was nearly eight inches and tiny thin but it pressed the bone hard tip against my cheek trying to mate with the smell.  The movements were becoming more angered and frustrated until it was nearly jumping against the cage like a monkey.  It sprayed a splash of urine or maybe male pheromone to get the female in the mood on my face.  Several of the others had been fighting around and I didn’t see any of the females giving up.  Two of the nearest turned to face the wet one attached to the cage.  His pheromone caught their attention; maybe they felt he was having luck.  The females backed away and retreated to the collapsed tunnel.  The wet Nutria that had been trying to get me turned to defend his prize.  The two Nutria fought like cats incredibly posing and super fast strikes.  The third turned his attention where my first visitor left off. 

I kicked at it with my free leg but I couldn’t do much this one was much higher and started sniffing around my lower back.  I couldn’t roll, only flail one leg around.  The more I fought the more interested he became.  It didn’t take long before his nose was diving at my clenched butt.  And between.  He was rutting at my prone butt like a pig.  My pubescent hormones may not be anything like Nutria but I was a young female, fertile and ready; if his nose couldn’t tell his tongue could.  I was fighting with my free leg, but the giant rat crawled on top of me and I began to feel his long thin penis prod.  He wasn’t having any luck but sprayed more and more of that male smell on me which attracted the others to stop fighting and also acted like a lubricant soaking by backside.

The battle raged on near my head but a new wet Nutria approached from my blind side and started tying to mate.  He managed to square up with my cocked head and poked his long penis right into my eye and nose.  He was more and more excited finding soft tissue.  A decision I will always question and regret, I turned with what little space I had to protect my eyes and he was poking at my tight lips.  He jabbed and sprayed hard right past my lips and onto my clenched teeth.  I began to cry through clenched teeth and scream in anger.  How could this be happening to me? 

I had successfully hidden my delicate virgin pussy from the rat on my back but he was lined up and shoving against my clenched anus.  The tip of his hard prick was trying to deadlocked on trying with all his giant rodent might to push in.  I was clenching with all my might but felt him slowly winning.  Each time he sprayed a shot of lubricant against my tiny hole he gained.  I could feel the tip nestled inside my clenching sphincter.  Any more sprays would be directly in and not spill a drop. 

Once inside my wet lips the Nutria went wild jabbing deep as it could with its eight inches.  Its penis wasn’t much larger than a long pencil but the creature was using it like a weapon.  It didn’t mind my teeth just ran down to enjoy the warm soft cheek.  It didn’t take long, once it was buried as deep as it could go the tip enlarged like a hard bumpy snake head and spurted super thick chunky semen into the corner of my mouth that would one day hold wisdom teeth.  He held deep for only a moment and instantly went soft and pulled out wading off looking dizzy and hardly able to stand.  The Nutria on my back had its paws wrapped around my thin waist and gripped folds of skin so hard it would leave a mark.  I was still clenching him out but a momentary cough and he sank in, and sank in deep. 

The taste in my mouth was guttural and unbearable, no way to describe it but salty road kill.  I tried to spit but it stuck to my cheek and clung to the corner of my mouth.  I couldn’t dislodge it with my tongue only smear the sticky substance around.  It coated my mouth and throat like foul honey.  I was having a coughing fit nearly puking as the Nutria stabbed into my ass and bottomed out to cum.  I felt the tip enlarge and gout the nasty stubborn stuff into my colon.

I came here to kill these rodents, this plague, these RATS.  How did the tables turn!?!  If I thought I disliked the Nutria before I could never stop hating them now.  I was so utterly disgusted.  Something broke in my mind.  Not my will to fight but my understanding of how things work.  My mouth flowed with warm pre-puke trying to wash the nasty out as the paste was now lodged deep in my butt. 

He slid out.  My sphincter had relaxed after the rape and he felt no resistance as his deflated length drug out of me.  I felt the unnatural cum inside and tried to push it out.  My face was red and my tiny butt winked and shoved with no luck.   The sound of Nutria still fighting and pawing at each other was all around.  I couldn’t be sure but I think all of the females had retreated and only the males were fighting over me now. 

I had lost, in everyway.  I was just some dumb girl that had no business being out here.  Everyone tried to tell me, but I didn’t listen and they couldn’t have every warned me about this or anything like this happening.  But that’s the world as we know it, full of unknowns and fate is unstoppable.  Some things just shouldn’t be. 

A new penis poked in from the blind side, I could feel it getting tangled in my hair.  I cared and wanted to fight but couldn’t.  There was nothing I could do.  I just laid there.  Another approached my bottom.  I kicked him away as he came up from my tethered leg, but that didn’t stop him.  He jumped overtop me and grabbed handfuls of my butt flesh.  He was positioned way too far down, but the long tip bushed the soft folds of my pussy lips.  I jumped back to life, but it was too late he jumped at the microseconds notice of an orifice to rape.  I cried and screamed for help, and obscenities at the rats but nothing helped.  My virginity was taken, maybe his small penis hadn’t fully broken my hymen, but it didn’t matter.  It was so long he prodded as if knowing what to look for.  That throbbing snake head docked poking into my cervix and flared.  The tiny bumps helped it open me up as it came.  It all felt so unnaturally deep like a surgical procedure.  There was no way of knowing if he came inside my cervix or outside, but just as fast as it happened he deflated and wandered off.  Another replaced him.  I was pretty sure I had cum in my hair now, but would have to wait to see. 

The fight was taken out of me, I was utterly defeated.  I didn’t even raise my leg to kick the next.  The rape wasn’t overtly painful.  Their little paws hurt as the held me, well more held themselves onto me.  The pain was in my mind.  It wasn’t pleasurable either.  My body responded to the stimulus and touch, my pussy was so wet it ran down my thighs.  Nutria sex was far more surgical.  One more in my anus, the second time was less painful because I tried not to fight as much.  I stopped counting the beasts. 

Another penis brushed my sensitive clammy lips and my heart fluttered not sure what I was suppose to feel anymore.  This one was bigger than the rest and slid in slow as if the creature wanted to savor the feeling.  His penis was bumpy with veins and ridges.  I tried to look back and see what was different.  His hair seemed a bit shaggier and unkempt.  He wasn’t any larger or smaller than the others, but he looked thinner and yet more muscle tone even though the fur.  He was defiantly an alpha stud among the rats.  The others penises were like a pencil, his was like a thumb, not much different, but to my virgin body I felt the difference. 

He took more of my hymen; it actually hurt as he slowly pushed in.  I couldn’t understand why he behaved different either.  My tight pussy wrapped around him like a suction cup.  He pushed against my deepest smearing the glue like cum from the others and pulled back.  He actually seemed to be enjoying the sensation unlike the others.  My body too was responding in kind to the sensual treatment.  He picked up the pace with long strokes.  My vagina was dripping in grool and filled with intent to enjoy and procreate.  The awful sensations of his vainly bumpy penis were getting to me.  I found myself splaying my free leg so he could get in better.  When he pushed against my cervix I was overcome by sensation, his pace was quickening but slow enough for me to enjoy.  His giant among Nutia cock, and biggest thing I had ever known was pillaging and enjoying the best my body had to offer.  My face was real flushed as I couldn’t help but feel the gaining pleasure from him.  He was going fast now, fast as any of them but with full long strokes.  It’s like he needed my body to milk him not just take his cum.  And my body did milk him.  I clamped down and came on his rape.  My own voice startled me as it echoed off the far bank.  I was still in the throws of sex when he stopped the long stroked and pushed in deep, deeper than the rest with short pounding thrusts.  He was stretching my body trying to force entry to my cervix not just toy with it or cum on it.  I was still in the heat of my own bodies passion and arched up into him cumming again.  Just like the cough opened my anus up, cumming pushed against his begging prick.  More surgical pain as my cervix accepted his entire penis.  My tiny opening wrapped like a bloated pillow around his throbbing member.  He came, but again not like the others.  I felt the massive lumpy throbs travel throughout his entire shaft and empty into my deepest place.  My insides felt alive.  I felt his cum inside me unlike the others.  This one was different.  Was this Nutria a different species?  Like a horse and a mule?

He pulled out with a painful internal pop out of my cervix and slid out.  My tight pussy lips snapped closed, slightly red and irritated but full of sensory blood sealing everything inside.  It wasn’t that it felt right inside, or even wrong… it just felt.  I could feel him after he left, his semen, his everything. 

More Nutria came.  My mind went to the article about over one hundred at a single farm. 
Of those how may were male?  What percentage could I expect and how potent was that pheromone?  How potent was the stuff they were laying down now?  The worst question of all was how potent was the stuff inside me?  “Alpha” as I came to think of him wasn’t the only different Nutria either.  Several more were mixed in.  I started calling them Nutria Prime.  I slowly became sure they were a different species.  I surely hadn’t been able to keep count but I felt that there must have been fifteen to twenty males that came to visit me during the night.  Everything from young juveniles to Primes visited me.  I even began to guess which was which and I would try to guide the juveniles into my butt, I felt I could get the glue out better, and I was scared to try a Prime in the anus, so guided them into my delicate flower.  It wasn’t perfect and I did take a prime in the butt.  It hurt and opened my clenched backside up a lot.  After the anal Prime I couldn’t clench as much and some cum finally began to leak out.  My vagina became an open invitation to the Nutria and copious amounts of thick and thin cum would push out if I came hard.  I began to relish the moment they came.  I’m not sure if I was glad it was over or just the sensation was so intense.  I love it when they were max depth pushing me to my limits.  The idea of their cum trying to impregnate me was disgusting but in a submissive way arousing. 

It was getting late in the night, or early in the morning.  Even the Nutria had slowed.  I was a hopeless mess covered in rat cum.  I felt my backside had become a mountain of glue like cum pushing from my gaping holes.  This of course wasn’t what it looked like but to a virgin that’s how it felt!  I heard something from my campsite.  I was worried and hopeful it was the radio and help would be on the way.  But it was my phone.  I had set an alarm, “La La La… Good Mooorning… La la la…” That stupid tone!  I had always hated it but at least I knew it was past five.  It would go on for an hour before giving up.  At least sunlight was near.  I hadn’t notice but the slightest hint of blue morning light was easing into the day.  The last of the Nutria had scattered, not only was it getting close to day, but the sound of the human alarm sent them scattering.  If only I had known to set an alarm sooner! 

I had nothing but time to sit and think and feel.  My head was down and legs up, which made it easy for cum to stay inside me.  I felt absolutely filled and bloated.  I was in such pain from being cramped in this impossible space I couldn’t wait to get out.  And worst of all I couldn’t stand the thought of someone finding me in this condition.  How in the world could I explain?  This program would be over for sure, and my school why was I down here after all?  What if my parents found out? 

I drowned in my thoughts and dozed in and out of sleep until the morning light began to really shine.  It’s an odd thing being tied upside down filled with rat cum and falling asleep!  It’s something that no-one should ever have to go thought, but that can be said about a lot of things. 

With the morning light came a new perspective the tree roots that crashed into my cage.  Yes it’s my cage now!  After spending a night in it I felt like it was home.  The crash actually split some of the wire holding the left side.  All of this was covered with darkness all night.  But my arms were crossed and my head cocked painfully looking right but my hand was right beside the ruptured seam.  I started working on it.  The metal wire was tough but I was making progress.  The alarm finally stopped at six AM.  So I had an hour or more to get free.  The top right of the cage was free and with the torque pushing it open the tip left corner couldn’t hold and snapped!  And the panel fell out flat. 

I was finally able to get my arms out and straight.  It was painfull after being cramped for so many hours but felt like freedom!  With my elbow able to move I was able to bend my around back and push the right half of the door off my ribs and gain a little more freedom.  With each shove or push my aching crotch would gush Nutria cum.  I hated the idea that I could have gotten free but there was no helping what happened I just had to get back to camp and check in.  The humiliation of what happened was terrible but letting the world find out as well would be crushing. 

I kept working until I backed out of the device.  It was hard and slow going, but I was finally free of the trap and had to free my snagged foot.  I also got my first real look at my lower body.  With my hands and chest free I rolled over onto my back and tried to crunch and sit up.  Semen gushed and I failed and laid back in the mud, the tide was high when I fell, it had mostly gone out during the night.  I rolled over and scrunched my way up the bank pulled harder on my tender ankle. 

I sat up again but on more level ground, and with less tension on my snared foot.  I ran my hand down between my slimy crotch and scooped up yellowish thick cum and some thinner milky cum.  I paused and looked closer the more opaque cum had… tiny things in it?  They look like tiny thin segmented worms?  Must have come up form the beach to feed like flies nothing goes to waste here in the delta.  I didn’t look any closer and struggled to undo the snare on my foot. 

Blood rushed back and my foot throbbed.  I lay back in the cool mud again.  Feeling liberated yet raped.  My butt and vagina clenched on the idea of being so raped.  The awful taste was still in my mouth too.  My foot was back and I tried standing up.  I stumbled and more cum rushed down my both my legs but I was able to stand with the help of some roots.  I scratched my matted hair.  Everything about my person reeked with girl sweat, sex and Nutria cum.  I needed a bath now more than ever, and it might be easier to swim back to came than walk.  I stumbled thought the mud and into the water.  It was cool from the night and felt soothing.  I paddled back to my side of the island and washed up the best I could.  The cum was stiff and seemed to reject the water like an oil based glue or silicon.  I washed the best I could and limped onto shore. 

 My panties were dry, but the pants were still stamp.  I didn’t mind.  My feet were covered in thick mud and I did my best to guide my feet into my panties.  I was so exhausted that I missed and scraped a glob of mud off my foot onto my panties and slid them up anyway.  My panties made me feel so much more secure.  I finished with my clothes and then my shoes. 

Everything was harder and more painstaking.  The radio buzzed with Peter asking everyone to check in.  I did and asked to be picked up last, I was running late.  Each bend to fold the tent or pick up something was painful.  My panties were soon soaked with leakage.  Not the wild gushes from last night but just little by little every time I would relax I got a surprise glob of cum.  The trouble was I still felt bloated and butterflies in my stomach. 

I finished my bag and had to get my gun.  I dreaded seeing the scene again, but I couldn’t leave my gun.  I was planning to ask for help collecting the other traps and had to try for this one.  I didn’t like the idea of the others poking around the scene.  Sure enough it looked terrible.  From the collapsed upper bank I could even seen the impression my breasts had made in the mud.  I couldn’t let the others come back here.  On the beach were several butterflies on white and yellowy globs of discarded semen.  They must be after the salt.  I never looked at butterflies the same again.  My gun was half buried under some dirt and not that far down thank goodness. 

I returned to camp and realized the others wouldn’t be able to help me anyway because I camped so far from the shore.  Damnit!  I packed my bag and pushed though the discomfort.  My hair was drying stiff and my crotch was constantly slimy but I collected two of the four traps.  The first was tough to get down, but once you understood how to do it the rest would be easy.  The second was empty, the third was my prison for the night.  And The fourth was on my camp’s side, I could get it as I left.  The road should be just across the pond.  I might get soaked doing it but with the morning pushing 9am the water would feel nice.  Peter radioed in that they were waiting on me at the bank.

I rounded the bend to my last trap and my heart stopped.  It was a Prime Nutria.  In the Sunlight he looked even more distinguished.  Without even thinking I dropped my pack and went for form five-fifty cord.  The giant mean muscled rat was angry about being seen in the daylight.  I ran the cord though the cage and began pulling it along with me.  Peter needed to see this specimen and maybe even further study.  Nothing in my studies or talks prepared me for this creature.  The bastard was heavy had to be pushing forty pounds; Nutria only reached twenty to thirty max!  It was rough going but once I reached the road I radioed that I was bringing in a live specimen for study.  We agreed to debrief later and not over the radio. 

I looked like a Vietnam solider carrying injured and battle gear coming down the road.  I had my gun, two other traps, my bag, and dragging the cage.  I had scratches and bruises on my face and a sprained ankle which I explained away as brush, but they wouldn’t see the heavy bruises that nearly broke ribs under my armpits, or the scratches on my hips and belly, or the damage to my pride and virgin areas… 

Peter and the group rushed out to help me and were amazed at the Nutria I caught.  I was quiet and solemn on the ride back, just saying that I was tired and needed a shower.  I prayed that I got all the semen chunks out of my hair and that my leaking crotch didn’t show on my pants.  The boat ride was hell, every wave we hit jarred my insides which still churned.  How do you explain or hide things like that? 

Peter seemed to understand that something was wrong.  I told Cheryl secretly that it was a ladies time of the month and to put Peter at ease.  I would come by Monday after school for a debrief but I just needed to get to my car and get home. 

Before we disembarked I did have a small conversation with Peter where I asked that he keep my captured Nutria alive for study, at least for the day and that he wipe down my rifle for me.  Again I would be by Monday afternoon to clean and debrief fully.  Peter was more than happy to oblige and amazed that I caught something so unique.  How could I explain?

I dropped my backpack down as much as it could go as we said goodbyes.  I walked away to my car worrying that someone might notice the seat of my pants were wet at the ass-crack or gusset.  

Patient 0 

 

I chucked my bags into the trunk of the car and climbed into the driver’s seat as fast as I could.  I had gone though water and soaked my pants but most of the water dried on the boat; however, something else had refused to dry because it was still leaking.  I sat quite in the still car finally alone and leaned my head down to rest on the wheel.  I didn’t have to be strong for anyone and I let go.  My stomach clenched, rolling more and more tears as I stewed in my failure.  I knew I needed to get back to my dorm apartment.  The clean seat were no doubt soaking up something that would never wash out.  The car had been so pristine the seats looked like they had never been sat in.  I would always remember this even if the slime between my butt cheeks didn’t stain it would forever stain my mind. 

The drive was hell.  I felt like I was covered in period blood with no pad.  Every turn, every bump, everything made me cringe.  I was sitting in rat cum.  I rushed though it just focusing on the idea of my shower.  I got lucky and found a parking space close to my dorm entrance.  Standing allowed more to leak.  I was fighting an odd sensation, my butt was clenched tight holding the contents inside, but it was hard to keep it clenched.  Everytime my mind wandered to mundane things, like unlocking the car my clench would relax.  I got a warm gush that sent a shock to tighten my sphincter again.  It wasn’t just the glue like semen but my bodies own attempts to flush it out.  My own girl slick was pouring from my vagina.  Some mucus carried the rat cum out some didn’t.  And sure enough my seat was wet.  The tight grey textured fabric seat reflected a dark patch right were my crotch was during the drive.  Resisting the urge to crumple right there in the parking lot into a crying fit I took a deep breath and slammed the door shut sealing the smell and drying seat inside the car.  Gush… tighten and hold…  I knew I was walking funny, I couldn’t imagine someone seeing me leak something down my leg but my crotch was a slimy mess.  My smooth butt cheeks and legs rubbed with a lubricated slick.  

I flashed the RFID keycard to unlock the door.  I was so impatient the few seconds annoyed me.  Finally the door click and I pushed inside.  Gush, tighten, and hold it in a little longer, as I pulled the door open.  The dorms were like a neglected hotel, but at least I had a unit to myself thanks to my mother.  I rounded the corner and started up the stairs to the second floor.  No elevator.  My lips were firm pressed in anger with each step.  I felt leakage running down both my thighs and sticking to my pants as I reached my door.  Closing the door was salvation.  Another wave of emotion overtook me and as I leaned against the wall and sank.  It felt good to be sitting.  More secure easier to hold.  My bowels had raged since the boat right and sitting helped me clench.  I knew what made my stomach churn or at least I thought I knew, and it made me cry harder.

Coming to school I had felt like an adult, as I straightened my legs trying to kick my boots off I felt like a child again.  I was a little girl again in a strange place flailing my legs to get my boots off.  Eventually I succeeded, not only in getting the boots off but kicking mud all over.  I could clean that up later, I had been sent with a small vacuum cleaner!  All the fight to get my muddy boots off actually lifted my spirits.  A girl’s mood is a funny thing and should never be understood.  The wet sticky feeling of my pants threatened to pull me down though.  Without standing I grabbed the belt and ripped it off and slid down my pants peeling my slick panties down as well.  After a brief battle at the ankles and I was free.  The fresh air kissed my wet thighs but at least I knew they COULD dry now.  I slunk even lower to the floor slouching with only my neck against the wall.  It just felt right to relax a moment. 

It was the first time I had touched myself since the rape.  I gently slid my palm down my stomach as if to mentally push out the intrusion.  The cleft of my mons hadn’t changed.  A tiny bit of thin pubescent hair offered resistance to my otherwise porcelain smooth supple skin.  I found my clitty ready to receive stimulation as ever.  I had been so busy in the past months I had refused any inquiring or stay stimuli to my primed body.  It was a shame I was only now realizing.  I felt on fire.  The evil had been done, but somehow it awakened a side of me that was always there but somehow but had been ignored.  My ignorance was enlightened by the rats and now I was left to figure out years of repressed sexuality in one day.

Pausing in a mere moment’s hesitation for the curiosity, I moved lower to finally assess the damage.   I was slick with slime; slicker than I had ever been.  Over the past year my panties were often stuck to my young crotch and peeled off with a lubricating cling, but nothing like this.  I raked my finger and scraped a tablespoon or more of the stuff into my hand.  My nude lower was splayed and I wondered why I hadn’t moved to the bathroom yet.  A scientific and yet much more intimate quest for understanding brought the substance in my hand to my eyes then my nose.  The snot like substance wasn’t just one substance rather a mixture of many.  The most notable was one strong milky glob.  It must have been scraped from my now much more open vaginal orifice held just inside.  My bodies own lubricating mucus was much more clean and clear.  There was an obvious mixture of the two but my intellectual side analyzed more.  What kind of conditions and diet made for proper Nutria semen?  There would be plenty of water which would account for a healthy volume depending on available proteins and amino acids.  The thick sticky glue seemed to be accompanied by a much thinner substance which couldn’t or at least I doubt was my bodies own making.  Did they have different kinds of semen?  Like a rinsing precum before the glue.  But there had been what appeared to be two different types of animals too.  

Staring at the strange mixture in my small hand I felt a rush.  I’m not sure exactly what it was only a rush of intense excitement.  Giving that I had cried over worse injustice than I had ever known in life this rush was unexpected but just as strong as the emotion to cry.  In a flash I saw what I was looking at in my hand and knew I had already tasted the raw creature’s seed.  I pulled my hand to my mouth without thinking and licked a bit of the contents onto my tongue. 

One of the first things I did after being freed from my cage was brush my teeth back at camp.  That awful taste had been forgotten and reliving it now was no better, bittersweet as the saying goes.  I’m not sure what if anything I was thinking or expecting.  I guess my mind jumped at the thought of proteins and amino acids, but I couldn’t taste a damn thing but nasty old river rat spooge.  My own spicy must was evident but dry heaves followed before I could think any further.  My slick hand clasped my crotch instead of my mouth as if to stop and unexpected upchuck as I rolled up and ran for the bathroom. 

I crouched in the tub finally releasing the fearful hold on my nethers as I rolled the hot water on.  While the water ran slowly warming I pushed against my bowels.  I was totally unafraid of any unpleasant fecal matter; somehow I knew I hadn’t eaten enough in the last twenty four hours.  And I was in the tub and ready wash anything away. 

The water began to steam and even through my pushed nothing came out.  I felt the new sensual rush as I pushed over my clit and dove my finger into my vagina.  I was still very tight and to all but a doctor might even still appear virginal; the Nutria were very thin after all.  I flicked my finger coxing a pleasurable cramp hoping to pull the semen out; nothing more than more mucus coated my fingers.  I had to force myself to stop and not continue lest in masturbation.  The water ran full hot and my slimy hand came to turn the dial for cold to balance leaving a smear on the clean shiny metal.

I rinsed my hand off and probed my tiny backside.  My anus was clenched tight and even with my wet fingers it was painful trying to force inside, so I gave up.  I would have to relax and push out, but for some perverted scientific reason I wanted my fingers to be there to feel what came out.  At the time and present curiosity the glue semen to milky thin semen to bodily mucus was important me.  I pulled the shower stop.

At first cold water spat from the shower head on my nude and mostly dry skin and hair.  With a shiver I waited and soon the water became soothing hot.  I lowered resting on my hands and knees before lowering my chest to the still warming tub.  Both my hands explored and rubbed my lower thighs.  My butt was high up to the hot cleansing rain.  I would need soap but for now my hands sensually rubbed the dried crusty memory away. 

With slowly increasing pushes my face was turning red.  I tried to force my bowels to empty their hateful memory, but they refused.  My tiny anus was clenched and even in the hot soothing shower I only managed to wink it partially.  I sank off my knees hoping a crumpled lower posture would help and explored with my fingers.  My heart fluttered as I coxed clean water into my violated flower; there my pushes had been somewhat fruitful with slimy results.  My tight bottom was a fortress.  The Nutria had conquered it, why couldn’t I?  My fingers tried to force their way in but the lack of lubricant was just plain painful.  I took a lesson from my rape and grabbed a bar of soap.  I slid out of the water flow and soaped up a bit.  With the soap, a rather irritating and less desirable lubricant, I was able to slide a finger in.  I was beyond upset with myself as I sat in the shower finger fucking my own butt with soap trying to encourage something, anything, out!  I soon gave up, but at least that part of me was clean.  Standing and cringing at my internal turbulence I proceeded to finish my shower.  My hair was a real mess of tangles and dried glue.  I took extra time washing my delicate parts even after the prelude. 

My pale skin steamed in the open air.  I was clean again and fought my hair with my brush to regain my humanity.  I went almost straight to bed pausing only to look at myself in the full body mirror.  I was the same me, but somehow different.  I had touched my self more in the past twenty-four hours than I had in the past six months and I couldn’t stop myself now.  My mother had a big chest and I didn’t ever think I would grow up to match her.  But my breasts begged to be rubbed.  I supposed they were growing, or just sore from being smashed into the mud all night.  Last night triggered something inside of me.  It wasn’t my choice and a horrible thing but human resilience is strange.  The painful reminders remained on my hips and lower back their tiny claws left unique scratches.  They would heal in less than a day.  I had taken a few briers in the bush that would take much longer to heal.  Thinking of the night I should have felt tears welling, but I was too preoccupied rediscovering my nipples.  I shook it off and turned to bed.  I stole one last glance at my backside.  Most of the scratches would be hidden under clothes thankfully.  My small waist and flared hips gave me an undeniable hourglass figure.  Like footprints in the sand their frenzied rape left no doubt.  They had tried to breed me.  I had never really pondered my female role in life.  I knew sure now!  Just like I knew Christopher Columbus sailed the ocean blue!  The intense epiphany, the moment of clarity stunned me as I stared into the mirror.  I broke the trance and threw myself on my bed.  I didn’t usually sleep naked but I needed to end the day.  I pulled a pillow down between my legs and curled up. 

I woke up some time past four in the after noon.  Both of my pillows were wet with sweat.  Why did it have to be so hot?  I quickly dressed.  It was hot but I wanted to feel secure.  I got a pair of tight panties and equally tight black leggings with a loose breezy blouse.  I had grown out of leggings, but just around the house they were fine.  I would have school in the morning.  I had told Peter I would come by later, but afterschool wouldn’t be the best time.

My stomach was ravenous, but I also had a bit of a headache.  I felt fine otherwise.  I poured some chocolate milk and pulled out my phone.  It had died.  I plopped down on the couch tethered to the wall charger and Called Peter.

“Hi Peter, It’s Rebecca.”

“Oh Hi!  You made quite the discovery yesterday!  We’ve been trying to figure out exactly what you found.”  Peter was very happy to hear from me and hoped to get the rest of the story out of me. 

“Yeah I knew something was different about that one.”

“At first we thought it was a different species, or maybe mixed with the slightly larger African Capybara.”

“Where is it now?”

“We’ve got him suited up in the Nature Center here.”  The Nature Center was originally like a Zoo attraction but became more focused on endangered species and study.  “One of the old bear enclosures should keep him happy.  There’s water, and a tunnel.  Best part the viewing enclosure is concrete so he can’t tunnel out.”

A part of me wanted to see the creature again.  It was daylight and on my terms.  “I was wondering how long you were going to be there, I wanted to come down.”

“Yes, please!  I’ll be here a bit more.”

“Ok I’ve got to find me something to eat and I’ll be down.”

My phone needed more charge and I had lost my car charger in the move.  The school café would have to do.  I hurried and grabbed a playful skirt to throw over my indecent leggins.  I grabbed my purse and headed for the door.  My dirty clothes were still lying just as I had peeled them off.  I felt so clean but just looking at those pants and panties made me cringe.  I couldn’t help the curiosity and knelt down to pull the panties out.  They had mostly dried to a crusty form holding shape.  I couldn’t explain my wild interest but I pulled to my nose to smell.  I’m not sure what I expected but the scent was unique to say the least.  I was amazed how my own spicy must stood out.  I dropped them and kicked the pants to a pile in the corner.  I would have to let those soak before I tried to wash them.  I rushed out to get me a chicken sandwich. 

The students and staff felt different.  They were of course the same, but I had never fully been comfortable around anyone here.  I was always treated with a second glance wondering how old I was and if I belong here.  Maybe I didn’t?  But I had a terrible secret now, and that separated me even more.  I had always been a loner, partly because I really felt I was smarter than everyone and preferred to sit back and watch.  With my new experience I was viewing the world entirely different.  Group dynamics, male and female clicks and groups, age differences and maturity, humans were animals also.  Seeing the Nutria fight and scramble to breed and propagate I couldn’t help see similarities.  We humans pretended to be sophisticated and better than the visceral animals but it was a lie.  I watched a group of guys as I waited in line to pay.  It was easy to pick out the winners and losers, the Alphas and the Betas.  My awakened sexuality coupled with my natural analytic nature and I wondered about each member’s fertility inside the groups.  Was there a correlation between social status and fertility?  Sure a good diet and exercise of an athlete would trump a couch potato.  But people weren’t that simple; stress and lifestyle would be equally important. 

I was so busy staring at the group wondering which was the real alpha I didn’t notice the line had moved, “Next… Hey!  Come-on your next.”  

“Oh I’m sorry I was distracted by the crazy guys over there!  Credit please.” As I handed her my card

“Yeah spirit week starts tomorrow, any excuse to act out will do.”  The annoyed lunch lady had been here for countless years and must have seen enough college group dynamics to fill a book. 

I hurried away pulling my sandwich from the bag.  I had it almost eaten when I retuned to my room to grab my phone and book bag and ran to my car.  It was late in the day and I wanted to catch Peter.

I followed the signs after I parked and walked into the front lobby of the Wildlife office.  It wasn’t at all what I expected.  It was after five and I guess everyone had gone home.  The place was deserted.  Peter heard the door open and was gathering his things. 

“I’ve got to run, but I have a spare set of keys for you.  Cheryl should be back sometime this evening so try to remember to lock up but it’s not the end of the world if you forget.”

“So where’s the Nutria?  I wanna see it!”

“Next door is the Nature Center.  The keys I’ve given you will work there too.  I trust you not to get into anything you shouldn’t.”  Peter was way too nice to pull off the angry dad look.  He and I both knew I wouldn’t be anywhere near here if I wasn’t capable of handling a set of keys.  “But what I need you to do is go in my office,” He paused to turn and point.  “And write everything you saw and happened.”

I pouted, not exactly what I was looking forward to.  “Ok, why is this so important and where are you going?”

“You may have found a new species!  We haven’t had anytime to do a real examination, but we tranquilized it and took a dental cast.  I’ve got to run this cast down to the Museum.  They have a scanner so I can send it off and find out.”  My eyes were wide.  Peter smiled and tossed me the keys, “Better start thinking of a name!”  And he turned to leave. 

I was amazed.  I knew it was possible, but somehow it was becoming real.  I knew just the name and muttered under my breath, “Damn Devil Rat is what I call the fucker!”

Sitting in Peter’s office I stared at a blank computer document.  How could I possible write what happened?  I had a very intimate knowledge of the creature, but no way could I let the world know it.  If this really was a new species everyone would be reading how I discovered it.  I had to lie, but couldn’t lie because people waaay smarter than me would be reading and picking out every hole in my story.  Someone may even try to discredit me! 

My heart was racing and I tried to calm myself.  It was nothing more than a new rat; new bugs and birds are discovered all the time but that doesn’t make the headlines!  I had to be vague but precise…  I bulleted the page double spaced with every hour.  I would just write a simple description. 

1pm  Arrived at Twitchell Island Ferry Rd. departed from boat and headed into the bush. 

2pm Still making way inland for a suitable campsite.  Found a clearing likely from Nutria but no other recent sign.

3pm

4pm  Reached a suitable campsite.  Overheating and took a swim. 

5pm  Set traps

6pm  Set traps

7pm  Sighted in Rifle

8pm  Made camp.

9pm  Washed clothes and hid from bugs and went to sleep

10pm

11pm

12am Woke up to pee..

1am…

2am…

3am…

4am…

5am…  Phone alarm goes off

6am…

7am

8am

9am Rejoin team on the boat with new Nutria…

I looked at my blank numbers trying to remember exactly what happened and when.  I remember holding my hand up to the sun to guess how long before dark, but the exact time was loose.  I needed so much more description, and how could I fill in the holes.  There was so much missing time.  It would be the biggest lie I had ever told. 

I stood up and saved the document.  It was on Peter’s computer but I would have work on it at home and send him a copy.  I couldn’t re-live those events just yet.  I wanted to see the creature.  I highly doubted it was one of the Nutria that… I thought of the scratches and rubbed my back… tried to breed me.  It was on the other end of the island and had been caught in a trap, but there was no way of knowing. 

I locked the office as I left and walked down the sidewalk to the Nature Center.  It was a much larger and more respectable building but was also abandoned.  I followed the signs to the bear enclosure.  It was kind of creepy looking into the enclosure.  Peter had told me it was almost completely abandoned but thinking of going into a real bear cage wasn’t easy.  I found employees only door and the layout was quite simple, behind closed doors almost everything was visible.  The Nutria was lying out cold in the rather large caged concrete feeding chamber.  I walked over and unhinged the door and walk in with the creature clicking the door behind me. 

The beast was lying there breathing.  It was defiantly bigger than any Nutria I had seen in pictures.  The most unique and identifying feature was the muscle tone.  The others were fat like little beaver bears, but this was toned like a shaggy Thoroughbred race horse, or nightmare werewolf.  The fur was less dense.  I knelt down to touch it.  This closest I had came to actually touching one, last night didn’t count; they touched me.  It was warm and the hair course like an opossum.

Squatting made me aware of my feminine spot.  I knew I was wet.  The association with sexual stimulus and this creature was undeniable.  I hated it, but it was beyond my control.  I looked up and around.  I’m sure this facility has cameras but the likely hood of one pointing inside this cage was slim.  I thought it even more unlikely that anyone would review it.  My hand rubbed up and down its body length making sure it was still out.  I was petting this thing like the family dog.

I rolled it over onto its back.  I was after something, a course of study, which no doubt Peter and his people would study the genitals and organs but I had an unofficial curiosity that couldn’t be logged.  Taken aback immediately, something was defiantly different.  Not that I had ever studied Nutria genitals (with my eyes) but something was defiantly wrong.  The testis appeared bloated and swollen.  I had no doubt that peter and his team hadn’t gotten this far.   Light sparse fur covered his belly and the tiny sheath for its retracted penis was dripping some fluid.  Was this animal sick?

My intimate connection with this animal made me sick.  I thought even before I saw it that it hadn’t been among the creatures that assaulted me, but what about the others?  I ran my hand wiping hard against my own crotch.  Even though panties and leggings (which a little too tight) I could feel a wet patch.  Had I been exposed to something?  Oh gods I even tasted the stuff! 

I fell back on my butt against the hard grey concrete covering my mouth in disgust.  There was one saving grace I had never smelled anything out of place.  I leaned back and sent my hand diving into my leggings to wipe away some of my girl juice and smelled it.  It was potent, maybe a stronger scent that normal but nothing I hadn’t smelled before.  It was me; I couldn’t find any trace of an infection.  At first all I could smell was the rat essence, but my body’s immune system must have taken care of that. 

I leaned forward to the creature on my knees.  I had a sense of urgency to learn more.  In hindsight I should have used gloves and who knows what kinds of precautions but I was too close to the situation and my mind screamed for answers.  I grabbed the sheath and tried to feel for the thin tube of a penis underneath.  Thin milky fluid leaked out and rolled down his fur as I explored him.  I felt no animal cruelty in the act.  Bestiality wasn’t unknown to me, news was news.  I had a flash memory of the topic from a year or so back.  I laughed at the thought, ANIMAL cruelty, after what they had done to me! 

A pink speared tip pushed forth from the black skin.  I snapped looking back to make sure no one was there.  Being caught doing this might be as bad as what happened last night.  My efforts coxed more fluid to drain.  It was whitish so at least there was a distinct difference between my own bodies leaking.  I hated it but I cupped one hand and started to milk the tiny thing for more that pushed out like puss.  I cringed and brought it up to my face.  It smelled a stinky fishy like semen or maybe that strange urine pheromone they sprayed, but it was a far cry from my own clean must. 

I ran my hand over the creature several more times feeling the muscle and lack of fat.  I hesitated, but exploring the creature fully I reached to cup its enlarged testes.  Just one was a handful.  The sack was taunt and stretched as well.  The room was deathly quiet; I could hear the Nutria breathing and felt something though its testis.  It seemed to be slowly trying to wake up.  At least its breathing increased.  I cupped its hefty balls with both my hands.  They were more like a boar’s testis and way out of proportion for the small animal.

My face cringed in concern; they moved.  They were painfully bloated but if it was its heartbeat I couldn’t find a rhythm.  I gently squeezed tighter trying to feel it.  The meaty gonads writhed from inside.  Maybe veins running blood or pushing long pent up blast of  that glue like semen around like a churning stomach.  I let go and the sack rolled to the side, the thin skin now looked to be moving from the inside.  Much more activity than when I first saw them.  I hadn’t noticed before or perhaps my stimulus was stirring the creature. 

I knew my actions might be altering the very nature of this discovery.  It was supposed to be for archenemy study and not some curious girl’s, but damnit this creature belongs to me!  I searched for the small penis hiding in the furry sheath at its belly.  More and more of that precum was running out.   Maybe it wasn’t precum, it could be so full of semen it was bursting at the seams.  It was about to have a wet dream, because I decided I wanted to see that strange penis for myself.  I had felt it rape me, but I needed to see it and this may be my only chance.  I grabbed the small head and squeezed milking it slowly.  The animal appeared to still be fully asleep but like a dog running in its sleep this Nutria kicked its hips.  My hand was quickly covered in semen and the pink rod slowly began to fuck my hand with interest.  It wasn’t at all lumpy like I had felt last night.  Withen moments the full length was extended and engorged and I squatted on my bent legs to get a closer hold with both my hands.  The thing was so long!  Just like the night before this Alpha Nutria took much much longer to reach climax.  The smaller ones simply extended the length and finished.

I felt something not quite a bulge or a nodule but a something near the base.  It was hard to tell with the wild thrusts but it seemed to be moving.  I almost dropped the dreaded thing but I couldn’t I was mesmerized watching it have at my small soft hands.  More and more bulges appeared and worked their way up the shaft in a line sometimes bottling up together to nearly double the thickness of its penis.  I knew something unnatural was inside its reproductive system and I was about to find out what.  It played out like a living nightmare.  Every time I began to feel safe theses creatures had a new trick.  The probability that I had came into contact with some unknown sexually transmitted sickness was exponential.  I had felt the lumps!  But I hadn’t seen anything.  Their cum was a glue like substance and may have solidified, but this thing was writhing!

What was it?  I squeezed my hand near the tip milking it intensely.  I didn’t want the thing to climax I just wanted to see the new devilry.  I didn’t get my wish, as soon as the first thing reached the open air the Nutria spasmed like I had never seen and its penis erupted gouting spurts of cum and parasites.  I dropped it and fell back.  The Nutria rolled around like it was being electrocuted.  The penis seemed to be under constant pressure from the bloated testes.  Several worms would back up and have to wriggle to unclog which sent the pressurized shot even farther. 

I fell back again legs splayed out and hands slick with cum.  I was carful not to touch my clothes.  I didn’t know if I could handle anymore cum stained clothing.  I was already contemplating throwing my soiled clothes from last night away.  The real problem of course was the incredible amount of semen and parasites that were sprayed three and four per spurt. 

My mind raced as my eyes followed the strings of jism as they splashed through the gate and up to the ceiling.  The ceiling was at least five feet tall.  I had to crouch a bit but the feeding room was a nightmare of horrors as a trails of semen slimed off the roof and onto the floor between my legs.  I was at ground zero of a containment hell.  My first instinct was to run.  I got up as quick as I could but my hand pushed off the floor leaving a smear of cum from my hand.  I had to get out of here and leave no trace, or clean the entire thing up leaving no trace.  It would simply be too unbelievable a lie that this unprovoked random even happened in my presence.  I bent over to operate the latch.  The Nutria was still in orgasm.  It had to be longest orgasm in history, or maybe in my mind seconds felt like hours.  I felt a shot lace my buttocks to my right knee pit.  I turned and the creature was still on its back but the testicular sack had deflated like a stretched balloon.  His muscular balls were still large, but the fluid and parasites that surrounded them was all over the room and beyond. 

I swung the door open not able to look away from the poor beast.  It seemed more awake now and used its paws to cradle its still throbbing penis.  It looked in pain or rapture as a few more worms tried to wriggle their way out.  The rest were wilding thrashing across the floor.  They lacked any suckers or legs to hold onto the ceiling or cage bars.  They were less than an inch each but incredibly thin and yellowish white and segmented.  The segments allow them to crawl forward unlike a fish which can only flop.  The parasites were in their death throws.  I had no clue about their ability to survive but it wasn’t logical they could survive long outside a host.  Why else would they have waited for a sexual encounter? 

All of these thoughts were a flash as I ran out of the cage.  If someone came now I would have a very hard time explaining, but the place was deserted and Peter lead me to believe Cheryl would go to the offices.  But the personnel of the Nature Center was a mystery to me.  Surely there would be a janitor or someone to monitor and feed the animals.  It wouldn’t be dark for a few hours but dusk would make a good feeding time.  I didn’t even know how many animals were here.

I surveyed the scene.  Countless worms wriggled trying to escape.  I had to try and clean it up.  My story wouldn’t hold if it was found it like this.  Did I even have a story?  I could try to clean up and save a specimen and call Peter, say I found the nutria like this.  I knew that I should call him right away but I could see my smeared handprint on the floor and a few worms I squished on my exit.  I lifted my shoe and cringed seeing the smashed bodies.  I slid my low top shoes off and ran to find a bathroom barefoot.  I couldn’t leave any more tracks.  Paper towels wouldn’t be effective at all but at least I could clean myself up.  A janitor’s closet was usually located near the restrooms too.  Covering up my involvement in this was getting out of hand.  If I cleaned the floor with a mop to hide my presence how could I explain why I cleaned up?  If I could sterilize the whole scene no one would know, but the mess was beyond any hope. 

I had to try.  I ran into the ladies room to look at my backside.  Sure enough there was a wet stain like a shoe lace.  The moisture of the cum soaked into the fabric, but the thicker substance was suspended and stuck.  I wiped at it with towels and either smeared the stuff unrecognizable or got it stuck to the paper towels to throw away.  Right across the hall was a janitor’s closet.  I grabbed a mop bucket and a broom, along with a roll of cheap paper towels I threw under my arm.  Going through with the cleanup was risky and would be hard to explain if caught but so far I hadn’t seen or heard anyone.

The worms had begun to pitter out by the time I got back.  They had less than a few minutes in open air before they began to wither and dry.  I wiped my shoes down with a towel and put them back on.  Was it a lack of, or presence, oxygen or something else?  I really didn’t know anything about parasites.  I had seen pictures in middle school science of a dissected earth worm.  I guess their anatomy of fairly basic.  The only experience I had with parasites was when we took our dog to the vet.  There was always a diagram or picture of heartworms.  The idea was frightening.  I was dealing with a totally unknown sexually transmitted pathogen.  I was frantic and reaching a lunatic frenzy trying to clean.  Some unconsioucs part of my mind labored wishing that if I cleaned these up maybe none would be inside me.  I swept the worms up with the broom into a pile smearing semen all over the floor but I would mop that shortly.  I had no doubt been exposed to the path of transmission with the Nutria but maybe I was lucky.  They others orgasm very strong but nothing like this one had.  At least it didn’t feel that dramatic, but given the pressures of my body pushing against the explosion maybe I was the fool.  The pile of worms barely had enough energy to move much more than a few inches now.  There were a good handful of them.  It was hard to believe the poor Nutria was infested with so many.    

I was wiping the ceiling down.  The poor Nutria had woke up and disappeared into the larger bear habitat.  Many diseases aren’t transmittable cross species.  Maybe I was lucky.  Seeing those things squirm on the floor I was sure I would know if that was inside me!  I just knew I had gotten lucky some how.  I slung the wet mop around.  I hoped I got lucky.  If anyone found out my darkest night there would be a Center for Disease Control special bulletin for the world to see.  I put the dying worms into the mop chemical mop water where they sank to the bottom.  It was so stupid but I really doubted the contaminated janitor supplies would be a danger.  I pushed the mop bucket back to the closet and dumped the water.  The lifeless worms threatened to clog the drain.  I hated it but my shoes were hardly pristine anymore.  I stomped and smashed them down.  They didn’t crunch, rather they popped as I stepped on them.   

Cleaning my shoe again I thought of how these things were touching and affecting every part of my life.  I grabbed my things and ran out of the building as fast as I could.  I felt pretty good about my clean up job.  I jumped into my car sitting in the old stain from day one and adding maybe a bit more.

I text Peter:

-Working on a timetable- 

-I will complete it later and send via email- 

-I’ve decided to name our new friend Frank-

-Keep me updated anytime of day or night-

I felt so guilty I had important information I needed to share, but how could I?  Frank was isolated and the creatures I had seen all died.  Plus there was still more out there in the wild.

 -We need to get back out to that property and look for more Nutria-

As I cranked my car and headed for the exit of the parking lot Peter texted back:

-Cheryl is already out there setting more traps- 

My heart sank; Cheryl didn’t know what she was getting into.  But she was much more experienced there was no way she was in danger.  And one could only classify what happened to me as a freak accident!  I drove straight home and hopped on the internet to do a bit of research.  I found a wealth of nasty and horrible parasites and the effects all were detrimental to the health of the host.  Some of the better ones only shaved years off life expectancy, others could burrow into your eyeball and make you go blind while it feeds! 

This situation was no joke and I hadn’t found anything matching the description of what I found.  Maybe I didn’t find a new species of Nutria but a new parasite which altered the host.  It seemed to make the host stronger but not a single parasite I found did that.  I came across and interesting topic of conversation on symbiotic organisms.  They like parasites need the host to survive and propagate, but achieve a symbiosis with the host strengthening certain qualities.  The relationship is mutually beneficial. 

If this creature was some kind of symbiote, I don’t remember having a conversation about a mutually beneficial relationship!  But then maybe I wasn’t infected.  What would the Nutria benefit from this thing?  Increased fertility, strength and muscle, it turned them into Alpha Nutria!  That’s pretty beneficial.  What did the symbiote get; a host, a place to live and breed, and vital nutrients!  It made sense! 

One sobering thought, IF the Alpha’s then breed more and spread the parasite it’s quite possible we could be on the verge of a pandemic.  What other species can it spread to?  Most of the parasite research leads me to believe that an organism could live inside any host that provided the needs.  Another question, how does it affect females?  The obvious concern is in fertility and childbearing.  A parasite could decimate a population by making females infertile, but a symbiote would rather the species thrive. 

I needed to ask Peter if he was aware of any biological agents used against invasive species.  A genetically modified parasite could have been released to curb their growth.  At least Peter and Cheryl were on the right track by capturing a few more.  She should be introducing more Nutria to the habitat by tomorrow and maybe we can learn the effects.  I hated to even think of the risks involved but I might need more covert investigations.  They would discover the parasite sooner or later, but sooner if I dropped clues.  For now alarming them wouldn’t help.  I thought I knew the real risks and scope of the situation.  If it began to get out of hand I would step forward. 

-Spirit Week-

I always hated silly things like spirit week, but Sunday in the lunch line waiting to pay for my chicken sandwich I did see a bit of a problem.  I was always a loner and an outsider but I was feeling more like an outcast here.  It was fine when it was my decision to remain on the fringes but in this setting I was having a hard time simply asking for directions. 

The first day of Spirit week was Cartoon character day.  I had already washed my dirty laundry the night before for my costume while doing research.  I also stayed up too late and was running behind this morning.  While I hated spirit week I was compelled to participate because it would show my classmates that I actually was their fellow student and if I pulled it off right might get me noticed by a few outfit connoisseurs. 

I had dressed up one Halloween when Pokémon was all the craze and still had the outfit.  The hat and brown odango ear muffs is all I needed.  I had already donned my overly tight black leggings from Sunday and I had a pair of light blue sneakers.  I had a long sleeve shirt that matched my shoes and a white Pokémon tank top.  The kicker that gave the outfit away was my yellow skirt and of course the pokemon logo on the tanktop helped.  The Character Rosa actually wears skirt/shorts, a skort, but my Skirt was a few years old and a bit short but I kept it just for this outfit, anyways with the leggings a mini-skirt just looked hot but with nothing on display.  I found the silly costume visor in miscellaneous box of junk in my closet with the ear muffs.  The muffs imitated cartoon crazy hair buns.  I checked the mirror and ran out the door with my bag.  I felt so out of place until I started seeing other costumes.  My low key outfit was simple but effective.  The leggings hugged me tighter stockings and the tiny skirt would keep a stare or two throughout the day.  I just hoped it wasn’t too provocative.

A small fraction of students actually dressed up but here in trendy central those who did took it seriously.  I saw at least two Godzilla’s while I was walking to my first class.  I was hidden among the crowed but stood out just enough.  I felt every gust of wind and slightest brush in the busy hallway.  It felt like I was wearing nothing at all under the yellow mini-skirt.  On a normal day the halls could get busy just before classes but today with not one but two giant Tokyo destroying monsters and a wide assortment of other characters it was a special kind of crazy.  I don’t think some of them thought of how they might sit during a lecture.  No doubt the professors were used to this and dreaded it like every holiday of the year. 

Classes went on like normal for me.  Well as normal as can be.  I tried to put the weekend’s events out of my mind, but I couldn’t stop wondering how Cheryl did catching other Nutria.  I wanted that area to hunt in next week, assuming I got the courage to go back.  It we suppose to be dreadfully hot this entire week, I would make sure to watch the highs for next weekend.  The school air conditioning was struggeling to keep up and I couldn’t imagine being inside some of the more complicated costumes.  Leaving my Lunch hour and going to my last class I saw several people had taking their’s off. 

My tights were skin tight and the stretched fabric breathed nicely, but the double top was killing me.  I could smell my own body odor.  I thought about things differently now.  My underarm odor was different than stinky unwashed guys for example.  I had never paid attention but I was looking at the whole world through a new lense.  My odor was a pheromone.  I stopped by the restroom.  My class was just at the end of the hall, but it was so crowded that I gladly wanted to wait a few minutes.

I paused to look into the mirror at myself.  I looked incredibly cute in my outfit.  My underarms had wet sweat patches.  I glanced down the line of sinks and mirrors and recognized a few faces in my next class.  Most of the girls were touching up their makeup; one girl Maria was brushing her teeth after lunch.  The bathroom was half full so I took only a moment in the mirror before going into a stall.  I raised my arm and took a long slow smell of my underarms.  My vaginal musk was slightly pungent like a mild spice; my underarms held the similar body chemistry. 

I flipped the mini-skirt up and my crotch was dark wet as well.  Partly with sweat but I had an itch all day.  The itch wasn’t an unnatural itch or even a yeast infection, rather a body desire itch.  I was preoccupied with achieving in life, but I wasn’t totally ignorant.  I had rubbed myself before and desire was so strong today I let my hand slip below my beltline.  My soft flesh was so receptive to the touch it felt as satisfying as a good morning stretch and as natural and unstoppable as a yawn.  My yawn went on until I was almost breathless in tiny gasps.  I shook out of the trance and looked to find my tights now sopping wet like I had peed myself.  A dark we run or two reached down my thigh.  I cursed under my breath and pulled my hand out.  I savored the last touch and my mons with it’s thin brown pubic hair was drenched in girl nectar.  I was becoming more and more attuned to my body’s scents and smell my hands.  It was intoxicating I took another long sniff trying to note the unique nuance scent.  The two were defiantly linked.  My classmates would, on the surface, wrinkle their nose at a strong scent but only those tuned to attraction might follow it.  It was a unique idea but I still wished I had a bit of deodorant in my bag.  There was as distinct odor a sexually active guy would recognize between the vaginal and underarm.  I was cursed with the knowledge of what a Nutria semen infused vagina smelled like…

I wished for deodorant but knew I would be fine.  On such a hot day last period always smelled like ass anyway.  I tried to dab the wet girl juice from my thighs but didn’t have much luck, anyone looking up my short skirt could see I had some kind of crotch event and if they followed their nose.  I leaned against the cool plastic formica wall pushing my butt out imagining one of those secret alpha guys nose running up my thigh and night into my sweet spot.  

My heart sank realizing the silence of the restroom.  Class had started or was seconds away.  It wasn’t terrible not having too many eyes in the hallways but I knew if I was late every student in class would be staring at me as I walked in.  I hiked my tights up as high as they could possibly go.  They conformed to my body like a glove and I’m sure anyone looking close enough could see my panty line but pulling them up to hide the wetness gave me a sensual cameltoe.  I burst out of the stall to find the previously busy bathroom empty.  No one was washing up at the sinks or touching up makeup in the mirror.  Those mirrors probably saw more than any man could imagine.  I didn’t want to be late and hoped I would be the last one in the door before class started.  I ran past the long line of sinks to the door and shoved past.  The hallways were near empty but just as I hoped there was a few small groups filtering to the auditorium. 

I hoped I made it into my seat behind the rush of students and out of focus.  I was very good and hiding in the shadows behind others.  I needed to make some friends but I was glad to just blend in now.  I couldn’t imagine someone asking me if I peed my pants! 

I made my seat without notice and stayed put with my butt in the plastic seat.  Maria was sitting beside me.  She must have noticed me in the restroom as well. 

“It’s a hot day isn’t it?  I guess with so many bodies they just can’t get the air conditioners to keep up.”

My heart throbbed had she seen my soaked crotch, or just notice me checking my underarms?  “Yeah I wish I would have brought an extra deodorant.”  I lifted my arms a bit to show the damp patch.  We both giggled, she must be experiencing the same.  She was a very nice looking girl with almost black hair from some kind of Spanish decent.  Her eyes were huge and expressive with a fiery intensity.  Her skin had a natural tan, maybe Puerto Rican?

Her eyes agreed without a word, I spoke again, “I’ve had this old costume since I was a girl but the long shirt is killing me!”

She hadn’t dressed up.  She had no doubt seen me this past week and knew I was a quiet loner and just trying a costume to get alone and belong.  She may have felt some kind of pity for me, “Yeah I’m not much for the whole spirit thing.  My parents sent me here and I’m just trying to make good grades.”

Without and ounce of understanding I replied, “It’s just a bunch of busywork.”  I slowly realized that while things came naturally to me others had to study.  Her large expressive eyes rolled away.  “Hey, I’m sorry.  My names Rebecca and yes I’m probably the youngest person in the room, I don’t know why or how but things just stick in my head and I’m a natural test taker and so I’m here in college...  If you ever need any help or have a question I’d be happy to help.  I live here on campus and besides Saturday I have no life and sit pretty bored in my dorm!”

Maria smiled and turned back to me.  Maybe she recognized exactly what type of person I was by the statement, I’m not sure, but she seemed to understand I wasn’t the unapproachable robot I appeared to be.  “Well it’s to early to need much help in this class but if you’re bored we’re going to the beach right after class.”  Her big brown eyes didn’t hide a thing, she knew I wouldn’t have a bathing suit and looked me up and down knowing I was way too white to spend much time on the beach…  but she had extra sunscreen she was willing to share. 

My lip curled happily as I began to reply with a possible yes when the professor, a short round hairy, yet balding, man walked into the room for a side door and began.  She smiled as if understanding uncertainty.  She scribbled a note and passed it to me. 

“Ocean Beach Fire Pits - 20mins - Top end, near the cliffs with the big white square building on top.  555-689-3709 - Maria”

My head was filled with questions but the lecture never stopped and she got up to leave early and I never got a chance to ask any more.  Maybe she had some guy friends she wanted to set up with a cute girl like me, or maybe she was a girl who liked girls.  I had seen just about every example of sexual orientation in the past week.  But in the end I needed to make a friend and decided in my heart to go. 

Her eyes were right I didn’t have a bathing suit or any sunscreen, and I was too white to be on the beach on a hot day!  I would be having trouble in class at this rate.  I was hardly able to pay attention.  So much had happened to me in such a short time and now I needed to navigate social interaction and make friends.  I wouldn’t have worn this silly costume all day otherwise.  Class ended, shortly after she left, but she was just enough ahead of me that there was no way I would ever catch up to ask any questions.  Either I would show up and call or not.  I didn’t know how long they were planning to be at the beach so I didn’t know if I could run home or not.  As most of the students began to filter out of the class I was waiting to filter into the last bit of shadow crowed. 

My crotch had dried out for the most part.  I had tried to keep my legs moving and spread throughout the lecture.  Anther reason I had trouble focusing.  I would have to run by and grab a bathing suit, I probably packed on from home but I had no idea where it was.  There would be hundreds of beach wear shops as I got closer to the beach.  I could stop by any one of them and grab a suit.  

Seeing that she left just before class I knew she had an understanding of this college setting that few did.  I felt a rush of excitement like never before.  I hurried to my car; silly outfit or no, I had to meet her and begin my insertion into college life.  I knew there was a chance I was just being used but it didn’t matter if I could make some contacts it would be infinatly better than being alone here.  Maybe it was the trauma of the weekend but I had felt so alone without my Mother and without any friend to confide in.  I knew I would never tell another living sole what happened to me but I needed someone. 

My phone was a full charge so I skipped my dorm room and plugged the beach into my search bar and began to follow the directions.  She was right the Beach was close, but I was mired in traffic.  I knew why she got a jump start.  Just a few minutes earlier and I would have missed the afternoon traffic.  I had some friends when I was growing up but somehow I had lost contact with them all either we moved or I was too focused on school. 

I knew I was getting close when the beach shops began to appear.  It wasn’t just a few but every corner and every store seemed to have some beachwear to advertise.  How many hundreds of thousands of people would it take to support such a massive economy?  I really hoped the beach wouldn’t be too busy.  It was the beginning of the week after all school had just started.  I pulled into the first open shop along my route.  I better grab something now.  I ran in as fast as I could have grabbed the first two piece in my size I could find and a beach towel to match. 

Red had always been my color.  I was a bit pale, ok very pale almost vampire pale, and red gave me a bit of color.  I paid looking at the simple outfit.  Red palm trees against the setting sun, it was very pretty.  My mind had been working faster than usual, maybe not faster but I kept having moments of clarity about everything.  This simple baithing suit and mass beach economy could be supported all over the world with such basic designs as this.  The factory, or more likely Chinese sweat shop, would never have to retool or change designs for any market.  I rolled my eyes paying almost thirty dollars.  I had to admit the towel was pretty as a picture, but still thin and cheap.  I guess that’s why everyone got into the beach ware industry.   

My phone announced I was arriving at my destination.  I could smell the salty fish scented beach and open horizon that never ended.  The parking lot was fairly open and I got a lucky spot right along the retaining wall that ran the length of the beach for miles.  I was at the northernmost edge of the Fire Pits.  I stepped out of my car and was hit by the beach wind.  It never failed to amaze me how the wind was so constant.  I took a deep breath and felt my tension ease.  I was here. 

The parking lot bordered the retiaing wall and a series of benches.  Several people were milling about mostly older adults.  I wondered if I was in the right spot.  I took a stair down the retaining wall where I began to see more and more people.  The Beach was massive, open, and clean except for the fire pits that dotted along the edge of the wall.  The retaining wall was almost ten feet high.  I didn’t understand why, surely the tide didn’t rise or fall that much and there were no hurricanes.  Storms could rage this close to Canada though. 

I felt so silly in my outfit.  I jogged down the stairs to a double row of shower/changing rooms.  They were simple ply board and in places and maybe salvaged restrooms in others.  Someone had spent time and money to build them, but certainly not a professional carpenter.  The plumbing and running water was impressive.  A large pipe jutted out of the retaining wall and ran along the open stalls with a simple pull lever for water.  There were ten or twelve simple rooms, only a few had doors.  I took one with a door.  The skeleton of the stalls were large sturdy four-by-fours sunk deep into the sand and anything that could be salvaged for walls and doors.  I stepped inside noting no ceiling and no floor.  The sand was surprisingly dry inside.  The sun baked overhead and must dry it quickly.  It was well after noon and the sun was sinking but the stall was amazingly bright and hot despite the shade.  I jerked my shoes off and slid my leggings off.  They had been hugging me so tight all day and with my panties too they created a seal over my sex.  I knew a few creepy guys probably got a peek at my camel-toe and wet crotch today but I didn’t know just how bad it was until I slid them off.

I had to tug my bottoms off like a wet t-shirt and finally open my crotch was able to drool.  My eyes were wide watching slimy girl juices run down my inner thighs from my recently unsealed clam.  I wiped the slick clear gruel with my hand and a shiver ran up my body that made me arch my back.  My body was begging for sexual stimulation.  The lubrication was so heavy with my musk I wondered if anyone else smelled it today. 

I tried to not think about it and repress the desire to touch myself more.  I needed to get in the water.  Some primal part of me had been kicked into high gear from the Nutria.  I hadn’t thought about them for a few hours and my heart began to sink again.  Lifting and peeling the leggings off my first foot I noticed some briar scratches from this weekend.  I gasped thinking of the scratches on my back and hips.  I couldn’t go out with those.  I prayed they had dissipated or looked like something else.  I yanked my dreadful long sleeve shirt off and used my phones reverse mode camera to look.  Sure enough I could still see enough scratches and well above any bikini line to be undeniable.  Anyone who saw those would know something with claws was hugging my back and butt. 

I was perfectly clean except for sweat and musk, but I felt filthy again.  The placement of those red marks and scratches reminded me just how the Nutria had raped me.  Their long pricks had been so deep seated and poured so much semen into me.  Tears welled up in my eyes; I was still marked by them and was somehow still being violated by them days later.  I was closer to the animals than I was people.  I was completely naked and sank slowly leaning against the rough wall to rest my bottom on my discarded clothes and began sob quietly. 

The stall parallel to mine shook as someone entered and closed their sides’ door.  I held my breath hoping no one heard my desperation.  I wiped the tears away from my eyes and the adjoining wall made an unmistakable sound but my mind didn’t comprehend.  Cheap wood on wood made a dry rough scraped.  The sound was so close to my head I didn’t even have to turn to see it.  A hole had been drilled and covered up with a sliding door.  My eyes were wide and I was afraid to move.  The hole was small enough for nothing more than a door handle and offered no threat other than peeping eyes.  I covered my breasts waiting to see some perverts eye glaring in to see my torment.  I waited and saw nothing but a bit of light coming from sunnier side of the shower stall.  As if to give me enough time to run, time passed.  I was paralyzed.  If I tried to dress I was sure an eye would see me, though I hadn’t seen one yet. 

I just began to wonder if the hole was some kind of vent when an uncircumcised penis pushed though.  I didn’t dare make a sound.  It was soft and looked large yet weak and vulnerable.  The man or probably college kid pushed his body completely against the wall.  I couldn’t see anything more than the stuffed hole and his black greasy skin and scraggly pubic hair.  He pushed himself against the hole so completely trusting I could have cut his penis off or some rabid animal could have been waiting and he would never know!  He began to harden.  My eyes were transfixed on the thing.  I had never seen a real one before.  The thick veined skin began to peel back as it got harder from the sensitive and lighter glands of the head.  He flexed pushing maximum blood into his penis making it jump and the shiny hard penis head glared like polished rock before it began to soften again.  I imagined he was feeling a similar sense of fear and excitement. 

My heart was racing as my mind filled out the thousands of possibilities and fears.  If I grabbed my clothes and ran would anyone be waiting outside to catch me in some kind of practical joke!  Would Maria have anything to do with this, but how could she!  The thought of it being some college kid was easier than a vagrant black man randomly shoving his penis in a hole hoping for attention, but I didn’t know anything!  I was fully aware of the stigma to joint the tidal wave of social justice white guilt at Berkley but I had never and would never look at a black man as a potential partner.  Just like a pure bred dog or any specie my mind didn’t work that way I naturally wanted to stay within my own.

I began to sit up off my discarded clothes with every intention of dusting the wet sand off and leaving.  I might face a mob of kids outside, but that would be less than facing them later, no doubt they would wait their victim out if that’s what the was.  If not, then I needed to leave and had no reason to be here.  I was sitting up on my knees looking the flaccid thing eye to eye.  The tiny slit on it’s head was dripping a clear fluid.  I was repulsed and lost in thought if that might be some result of a sexually transmitted disease.  The drop was clear like lubricant.  My own body spurred on by the long days’ excitement was in overdrive.  Simply sitting up from my defeated crumple my labia made me shiver with slick anticipation.  The Nutria had starting something I was powerless to control. 

Without taking my eyes off the large African penis intruding into my shower stall I wiped at my crotch and brought up the slime to inspect.  My bodies sexual scent flooded the tiny room.  The sea scented sand had an undeniable ocean fish and earthy smell but the room was overcome by my own pheromone and desire like an algae bloom.  The man on the other side of the wall had no clue of anything, I doubted if he even know the stall was occupied.  Maybe that’s how he got his rocks off was by some unsuspecting beach goers opening the door to see his, rather large, penis extending like a shower head. 

Maybe he was a vagrant.  The streets were filled with them here like I had never imagined.  Some poor man begging and hoping to fulfill his biological need by shoving his member into a hole.  Some poor man… like an animal.  Even the Nutria had an uncontrollable desire to breed.  I rubbed the scratched on the small of my nude back.  Being here naked in front of this…  my body felt and desired a similar need. 

I felt light headed and flooded with hormones.  I felt drunk actually if I even knew that that meant.  My eyes were half lidded as I felt a rush of clarity and higher or lower base thinking and feeling.  My eyes closed, clenched as if I could visualize the complexity of desire that made sexual desire cross species and want to mate with anything. 

My face rubbed the wooden stall wall beside the hole filled with penis.  I took a deep breath not knowing how I fell forward.  I was in a drunken haze.  He felt my breath I was sure of it.  I was so close I smelled the unmistakable stench of a man’s penis.  It was unique as my own musk.  A mix of sweat and unwashed… something I couldn’t place it.  Senses shifted, I was so close to it my eyes couldn’t really focus on it but my nose examined it like a scholar.  I really had nothing to fear, though this tiny hole he was at my mercy what could he do?  I inhaled deeply smelling the scent of his manhood.  The oily shine made his skin look healthy and full.  I tried to smell it. 

I was shocked why my nose touched his shaft.  I had closed my eyes as if in a kiss or deep embrace trying to take everything in.  I was so close I waivered like a drunkard.  Touching it with my nose had startled me awake.  But being this close wasn’t risk enough for me to wake up.  I dotted my nose along the shaft touching the electrochemical bond with the oily skin and trying to smell it.  I inhaled time and time again not to smell but capture the essence of that stench into my lungs.  I wanted to uptake or download as much from this encounter as I could.  Only later would I realize how easy a causal encounter such as this really was. 

But I was young and naïve.  My pussy was on fire.  I felt alive inside, as if I could feel my empty canal.  The giant thing in front of my face would never make it inside my but my, still somewhat, virginal canal longed to be filled again.  The alpha Nutria had given me an orgasm and opened me to the pleasures of sex but compared to this thing it was only a canoe vs. a school bus!  The Nutria had filled me with so much useless cum I leaked it for days, but this thing.  I leaned back blinking my eyes to focus on it.  It may be from an animal, the skin was pulled almost completely off this head as it bounced rock hard again, was something more.  This head glistened in his own lubricating pre-cum.  This think actually could breed me.  My DNA would be twisted and used by his species to create a hybrid.  My hand fell between my thighs to my begging pussy.  My crotch was in the open air but my hand found it soaked and slimy.  I grasped my vulnerable port as if to protect it but even the slightest stimulation left me gasping and clenching my eyes. 

My gasp projected me forward and my lips touched his shaft.  I held my eyes closed as if I didn’t want to see what I was doing.  Like bringing an object to your lips to see if it was metal or plastic my lips tasted him in a way my nose never could.  My rubbery lips ran up and down the length of his hard penis, never making it to the tip out of fear of his bodily fluids.  I paused at the base to soak up the highest concentration of sweat and pheromones.  Tiny curly hair tickled my nose and lips.  I couldn’t help it.  I felt he was my captive and a part of me felt I was taking advantage by not asking permission, but I passionately kissed the base of his dick.  I didn’t just kiss it I used my tongue to gently taste it. 

The taste was unpleasant, an unadulterated dose of the sweaty male musk.  The tip of your tongue tastes sweets, and as you age and your extremities fail your taste tends towered spicy food.  I was far too young to prefer spicy flavors and my tongue in perfect full taste.  I tasted the salty slightly vinegar of his body pushing toxins out via the epidermis.  He felt my soft young lips and gentle dotting of my tongue and pushed forward giving himself in rapture to the hole.  I could have a knife ready to sever his manhood and leave the vial artery bleeding out which could easily result in his death.  The man on the other side chose possible death in seeking sexual stimuli? 

I blinked and leaned back surprised at my own actions.  The surface of this unknown man’s genitals could contain unimaginable bacteria and who knew where it had been.  Maybe it wasn’t just his biology, but some woman’s dried juice I tasted?  I shook my head like a dog trying to shake off the unnatural lust in my loins.  I had never before experience such a desire!  The man felt the lack of attention and tightened his groin making the penis jump.  The dark skin full of melanin in front of me must be of a very pure African decent acted more like an animal than a person.  I was dumbfounded.  It was very large and rock hard filled with blood.  His heart was pumping with maximum desire as well.  The veins on his penis were bulging with impressive vascular effeciancy.  The tip of the penis was a softer black, not quite pink, but the glands roared in stretched fury.  The foreskin had been peeled all the way back stretching the bottom of his penis painfully.  Did he know a young fertile and budding girl was on the other side?  I hadn’t noticed a black man as I entered, but maybe he followed me?  The time I had been in the stall didn’t make sense.  It had to be a random encounter. 

He jumped it again in anticipation.  A clear bubble of lubrication pushed out from the taunt eye of his penis.  I stared at it with unblinking focus.  Was that a sign of some sexual infection?  Ooze pushing up from inside like puss?  But it was perfectly clear like a tiny dab of jelly.  It beaded and finally gained enough mass to drip down in a slimy string.  Somehow in my unconscious I felt it was a healthy thing, but I was curious.  I reached my small pale hand up to the base of his veiny penis to take hold.  I held the prick strongly like a dangerous animal.  My tight hold trapped blood and made the thing throb more.  I squeezed tighter and closer to the base with my pinky.  If it was some kind of infection maybe I could milk the evidence out. 

Nothing in my experience prepared me for this encounter.  I was wide eyed with wonder and excitement.  My heart thrummed in my chest as I held this man my his privates.  No doubt one on one he would out weight me by two hundred pounds and I wouldn’t stand a chance against him, but in this strange way he put himself at my mercy.  I placed my second hand at the base and squeezed both with all my might.  The head was absolutely massive and right in front of my face.  The black skin streached and looked like taung saran wrap and purple under the black skin.  He must be in pain but he never pulled back. 

The string of slimy lubricant was pouring out now and drenched the end of his penis and dripped a long slimy trail across my naked chest.  I dropped my hold on him and jumped back as his bodily fluids laced my left breast and stomach.  I was sitting on my legs and they were pressed tight together.  I leaned back immediately worried about my “virginal” pussy.  Only a hint of pubescent hair could be seen.  I worried that this slimy trail might contain some disease or semen and though a rare chance one of those microscopic squirmy semen might make it inside me without penetration.  But I was safe, save for the wet slime across my left nipple.  Technically the nipple was a bodily orifice, but my tiny tight nipples had never lactated and their budding size wouldn’t lactate for years.  This mongrel in front of me would no doubt love to impregnate me and have my breasts feed his offspring just like the animal Nutria.  Thinking of the Nutria and this person as animal filled my mine with that clarity and wonder again. 

His penis bobbed in the air slowly losing the intense fullness like it was losing interest.  His ureatha must have been filled with that clear lubricant because as it deflated more slimed out.  I took it with my hand again and squeezed filling the deflating blood bag with new virgor.  I didn’t rage quite the same but was full again.  I looked it eye to eye and without thinking leaned in and licked the slime from the head.  The sensitive glands flexed feeling my warm tongue.  I tasted him.  It wasn’t at all an enjoyable thing but still a thing filled with substance.  His musk was concentrated, but where I had wondered about the Nutria connection between diet and sexual dominance I couldn’t taste that or differentiate who he was.  I leaned back again.  My mouth filled with his hormone-slime and my saliva it dripped down off my chin into my clenched lap.  The scent filled my nose from outside and within making my head swirl.  I hated myself and couldn’t believe what I was doing, but somehow my mind was captive inside my body.  I didn’t know if it was unwashed or naturally this pungent.  The question didn’t matter, my faced bobbed forward again toward that brown flared glands.  He was rock hard again and my gentle lips pursed closed to kiss the tip before I enveloped half of it.  My tongue played with the tiny eye slit tasting and searching for more clues.  I must have been causing some discomfort pushing the tiny tip of my pink tongue into his penis head because he pulled back slightly.  I slid my mouth almost off when he shoved forward again like a frustrated animal hitting the flimsy wall like a bull.  I knew biologically what would happen at some point if I continued.  That tiny clear musk would be followed by a torrent of his semen.  I wondered about his testicles.  They were safely behind the wall. 

My lips were around most of his penis head and I didn’t know anything about him.  Only that his hormones were strong and heady.  I looked down over more than eight inches of dick.  My mouth locked on the tip, but I was reluctant to take the rest into my mouth.  I knew that when my lips encapsulated the ridge of his glands that he really could orgasm at any moment.  I wasn’t ready to have my mouth filled by surprise by this unknown man.  My demons haunted me; he was an animal just the same as the Nutria.  My tongue caressed the tiny slit more gently tasting the purest of his hunger.  He wanted nothing more than stimulation and to cum.  It didn’t matter to this man if I was a girl or an old woman.  Even a wild animal would probably do for him!  I trusted he had no clue just what was on the other side of the wall and pushed his penis further into my mouth encapsulating the glands in their flared hunger. 

His penis head was like a tiny apple aimed at my throat.  He was throbbing huge and I knew I drug my teeth across him but I couldn’t help it!  He pulled back to let my suctioned lips rub his glands again.  I didn’t have the slightest idea how sensitive a man was but with nothing more than his penis I could guess.  He encouraged me more and more to move and give him a blow job.  I would have never guessed myself in his position but here I was locked onto an unknown black man.  I could only guess at the man behind the wall but knowing he was black put him in to a higher risk category.  Most likely he was a college student, but from what kind of background?  But he could just as easily be an old bum bundled in an ragged coat and nothing else haunting the streets here.  Did he regular this place or see me come in the other side?  The question plagued me again as he bumped his penis head in and out of my mouth.  I was like a scared bunny rabbit ready to run, but my tongue teased the underside of his dick without reservation. 

I looked down at the shaft.  My small pert nose was blurry between my eyes but his shaft was clear.  A strong vein ran down the top and my tongue felt the rounded tube below.  That’s where urine and semen both flowed through.  It was a large tube, his urethra.  His internal organs must have been large as well, both bladder and testis.  Imagining a thick flow of urine from the thing inside my mouth brought me back to reality and I slid off the cock leaving it bobbing in front of me.  It was soaked shiny wet from my attention.  That large rounded tube on the bottom also brought semen.  Was this mans thick and chunky?  Thick lead me to believe he didn’t get enough fluids or was it very voluminous suggesting a diet full of amino acids and fluids?  I grabbed the base with my small hands.  Everything about me seemed to tiny and nubile compared to his large animal in front of me.  I was losing sight that it was a man, and more focused on the animalistic lust that held us both here.  I worked the base to the head, squeezing tight, as if inside my vagina like I knew he wanted.  His long hard prick wanted nothing more than to penetrate me and stretch my insides to the max and deposit his semen in a way that I couldn’t escape pregnancy.  The Nutria had giving me the same treatment, but now I was in control. 

The idea of control was paramount but I couldn’t escape the feeling that my pussy was throbbing and writhed with desire.  Not a moment passed that I wasn’t aware of my vaginal desire.  Somehow I was ignoring my bodies need, my bodies desire to be filled to hold that long hard shaft and let it fill me beyond what I could hold and kiss the tip to my cervix. 

Pulling back again I came to reality.  My mouth was filled with his taste still, but I licked my lips readying them for his shaft.  I wanting to take him deep into my throat and satisfy him.  I couldn’t quantify this need to fulfill his desire, but I felt it deep within.  Someplace that wasn’t my own demanded to taste his semen.  I stared at his waiting prick and stood up.  I was ready to leave.  The disgust inside my mouth made me sure of it.  I couldn’t hardly believe I had gone this far.  My stomach churned and cramped.  I doubled over as I stood with his dick there waiting cold in the drying air.  The idea of control was a lucid and yet deceptive one. 

I turned understanding I was on the precipice of danger.  My heart was already racing but a flash of recent events both brought me to another heart racing realization.  I wasn’t sure that I hadn’t contracted something from the Nutira.  The pig-rats had changed me and I didn’t understand how or why. 

I had to force myself not to look at him again.  I knew if I did I may lose that vital sense of control.  I clenched my eyes fighting the unnatural urge.  It was almost painful.  I was standing stark naked this alone would have brought a sane person to run or scream.  What as happening to me?  I bent to collect my clothes.  I focused so hard to taking my movements one second at a time I forgot what was behind me.  I stepped back off my clothes and my naked butt, bent and presented, brushed against his waiting prick like he was a coat rack and I needed to be hung up. 

I froze feeling him touch me there.  It was just a slight brush as I moved, but I backed up to feel him on my butt-cheek.  I was short, and until this moment I hadn’t thought about him, but he hold was rather low.  Was he crouched on the other side?  I giggled imagining him straining to hold himself.  Laughing I moved my butt further into him.  His impressive cock curved up and I pressed gently against it.  I lied to myself that it was to tease him.  This poor man so out of control of his own lusts that he pressed his precious manhood into a blind hold seeking pleasure.  He had no idea what was on the other side; me.  My “virgin” pussy itched for stimulation.  The Nutria were tiny, even the largest of the primes were tiny in comparison to a human man.  Less than half the size of an average guy I guessed and this was no average man.  The ragged edges of my virgin hymen remained.  I had been raped hard and filled with cum but not by my own species.  I was already so damaged, so taken, that I didn’t feel I had anything left to save.  But he would still be my real first, and I couldn’t even see him.  My mind was blurred with questions and want as I rubbed my tiny ass against him.  His penis continued to produce that clear lubricant and my own vagina was leaking down my inner thighs.  His penis curved up and I only rubbed the underside of him with my sensitive inner crack.  Some of his dripping probably wet my clenched anus, but the fear and lust mixed to make me dizzy.  I stepped my legs apart wide to steady myself and put a hand down so I wouldn’t fall forward.

I wanted to be touched so bad.  This man had desired stimulation so bad he put his dick in a sightless hole.  With my free hand I reached between my legs to touch my want.  I barely touched my budding clitoris and my body began to convulse in a small orgasm.  Thick woman juiced bubbled from deep within me.  My vagina was throbbing and I couldn’t refuse the tease.  I told myself it was a tease to him, but my body teased itself.

I grabbed the base of his and pulled his rock hardness down over my ass and aimed it at my pussy.  He was not entering but my outer labia lay over and caressed his penis head.  The ribbed gland was far from entering but the tiny slit eye was dead locked onto my vaginal canal.  I was frozen in fear and anticipation.  I didn’t dare move.  Bringing his hardness down caressed some of that itch.  It was as if the part of my hymen that remained wanted to be broken.  My body had been fucked and still having that was unnatural and some cosmic force demanded I rid myself of that last remaining hint of my childhood.  I stopped suddenly sobered by the thought of my childhood.  I was still a child in so many ways.  I shifted my weight from legs to leg nervously.  His round prick teased me.  I had forced myself into this world but I didn’t belong here.  I leaned back pushing his penis between my legs as if that would stop or slow things down.

I looked down and my soft tender taint lay over his penis and left a wet trail. Even with my body overtop it reached a few inches beyond me.  I refused to imagine that thing inside me.  My small naked hairless mons-pubis rounded to reveal my split open labia laying over his penis like a warm blanket and a tiny clit throbbing for attention.  I closed my eyes as only a professional singer would understand and swayed my hips back and forth in a sexual motion I didn’t know I had.  My lubrication slavering his dark skin with glinding ease.  My moisture made his skin darker and somehow made him look more healthy.  His penis curved up slightly and even with the lowered glory hole he was still a bit taller than me and his vainly cock rubbed me to surprising orgasm.  I held it close with my hand rocking over his man meat.  I rubbed his flare against my inner labia and clit losing all control or sense of time. 

Was it a cosmic force or my own mind?  I came on him again but much stronger this time.  I thrust myself forward and arched my ass up to meet his height.  It still took a guiding hand to aim him inside me again.  I toyed with his apple-like head pushing it against my opening threatening and stretching the last remaining hint of my virginity.  My legs were weak and trembling. 

His head was halfway buried inside my cunt as I held my breath.  Everything stopped I felt the world take a deep breath with me I began to push myself onto him when I heard a sound I’ll never forget.  It was the sound of a man reaching his end.  The man grunted and tried to fuck me through the hole but I held my limit out of his reach, but his body had a last trick.  Everything happened so fast I didn’t have time to react.  My mind was reeling trying to understand the noise as I felt the half buried cockhead inside me throb. 

I felt the sinking feeling of falling or seeing a police-car bluelight you in the rear view.  His first shot of semen was aimed perfect at my canal and cushion like cervix.  I gasped in disbelief and pulled away.  As I did the throbbed another shot out.  He had such force I felt it blast at my weakness.  His second shot was only half inside as I pulled off the rest laced across my, now closed, tight clammy labia.  A thick white cord ran inside my closed gates though.  Of course I wasn’t on any unnatural hormone birth control or any other complicated device. 

My heart pounded in utter horror, but some auxiliary part of me dropped to my knees and spun to meet his penis eye to eye.  As I turned to meet him I saw his cock jump in orgasm and shot another splat of web at me.  I caught it on the side of my cheek and jumped.  I was another person I didn’t know and had never met before.  My hands wrapped around his base and started to milk and pull at him.  My mouth was over his prick when the next throbbing shot let out inside my mouth.  He was growing weaker now I could feel it.  He continued to throb, but no more shots.  My mouth worked the alien substance.  It tasted much different than the Nutria, but the texture really had me interested.  Not that I had ever tasted a pure dollop of grease, but I guessed that how it coated my mouth and worked against my saliva maybe that was the closest thing I could connect.  I pulled back and watched in abject disgust as I milked one last bead of thick white cum from his penis.  He was almost half deflated, but my strong grip kept him throbbing and vainly at the tip.   Yep it made me think of salty thick grease, maybe some kind of lower beef grease protean.  I gripped the penis hard to make sure he didn’t go before I liked one last time to collect the last pure taste.  Running my tongue up the bottom where his soft thick sheath skin stretched to meet the purple black taunt head and collect that last drop wasn’t anything I would ever do. 

But who was I?  I was here wasn’t I?  It was my tongue and my mouth that held his jism.  He was still making noises a mix of pain and pleasure.  The sound of his black mans voice made me cringe.  So far I just focused on the man’s anatomy in front of me, I had forgotten about the person behind the wall.   I gripped him not quite ready to let go.  Was it over?  I was still so aroused.  His penis was truly impressive.  Not that I had seen many, but I was glued to it like a deadly flower in bloom.  I still had a death grip on him wanting something more.  My thumb pressed against the small tube on the underside while my free hand went to touch my own nethers.  It was soft and fleshy.  I wanted to wring more cum out of it to taste.  The last bit had a lot of his musky lubricant with the semen.  Maybe that’s all I would get, but I had to…

I was three-quarters up the base when my thumb hit something odd.  The poor man was groaning uneasily behind the wall.  I smiled; he was the dumb beast that stuck his penis in hole I thought as my free hand toyed with my sloshing slit.  I slowed and ignored him to focus on the odd shape under his penis.  I lifted it.  It appeared that a blood vein was pumping and kicking with no where to go against my pressure.  My free hand stopped playing with myself long enough to think for a moment.  My lower hand was so soak the air kissed its wetness.  I had never been so wet before; my hand felt heavy with it.  I held him clenching tight; the poor man would have to wait a moment.  I was squatting with my knees wide.  My body wanted to be taken missionary and I subconsciously assumed the position while squatting. 

I looked and dropped him immediately.  My mind was in a super nova rush of emotion and hormone bliss and fear.  My hand was thick with his cum.  He had actually shot his semen inside me.  In my heady bliss and euphoria I had felt it but moved on.  How could I have been so careless?  I looked up to see him finally freed pulling back into the far stall.  I was sad to see his penis go, but I had my own problems to focus on for the moment.  His sperm were swimming inside me.  I tasted the greasy coating inside my mouth, that same coating was creating a film over my vaginal canal.  My cervix was small and incredibly tight opening and those coating sperm would have to make it inside.  When the Nutria had their way with my body I felt their tiny long pricks kiss and probably pierce myy cervix to cum inside.  Their sperm had no doubt raided my precious vault.  I didn’t know much about sperm and eggs, but I knew the DNA was incompatible.  I had search interspecies mating as soon as I had gotten the chance.  Some species were close enough like a horse and a donkey to create an unholy mule, but the Nutria were so far from my own I had no real worry.  There was some question that maybe their sperm connected with my egg but were totally inert.

The man’s semen I looked at on my fingers was compatible.  If those sperm found their way into my bodies vault I would no doubt become pregnant by an unknown black man.  The humiliation was crushing now, how could I ever remain sane if I began pregnant? 

The hole was open and empty in my tornado of questions and misgivings I hadn’t been paying attention to my male companion.  Something about that throbbing vein disturbed me.  I was coming back from what ever drug or hormone induced bliss that made me do such horrible things.  I pushed as I squatted trying to encourage his semen out.  My mind raced I knew I didn’t have much time. 

I pressed my mouth against the empty hole, maybe I could encourage him back.  “Hey, wait.  I uhhh…” I couldn’t form my thoughts into words.  So much had happened and needed to be said and worked out.  Not only had he actually came against my open vagina, there were diseases to talk about.  Yes I had many concerns about the unknown black man and my well being and possible pregnancy, but what really concerned me in this moment was him. 

That flicking vein that was squished by my thumb what if it was something more?  I had been taken by a temporary teenage insanity of hormones, but now my logical mind was back.  It was a farfetched idea but still a possible one.  The vein had looked so much like that writhing testes of the infested Nutria.   It was somehow bigger but still in proportion.  The parasite worms had been so thin and small in the Nutria, but maybe the parasites matched the size of their host; like a goldfish grows to fit the pond. 

I tried to listen he was pulling up his pants and cussed under his breath at me.  His nigger slang and tone made me cringe, “Dumb bitch.”  It was hard to tell how old he was but he was defiantly not a teenager. 

“Please, you don’t understand what…”  I tried and stuttered before he came back.

“Listen, we ain’t gonna ever meet again cept for this wall.”  I didn’t know what he meant; he must come here from time to time.  Was he saying this was his first time or that we would only know each other through the wall? 

“Please wait, I need to explain.  What if…”  I pressed my mouth against the hole while I pleaded.  Before I could finish two fingers jabbed into the hole with my mouth.  I wanted anything to keep him so I played along.  If I wanted to pull back I would have had the time but I allowed him to grab my tongue.  His fingers tasted nasty of sweat and who knew what else.  He pinched down on me enough for me to pull back in pain. 

He spoke through the gap while holding my tongue, “You aint preg bitch, you did’n-even take it!” 

I tried to speak but the hold was strong and my saliva dripped down in my mumbles.  His ugly sweaty thumb rubbed my tongue.  I was left guessing; surely a bum wouldn’t walk away from such a promising encounter.  But his longing rub made me doubt.  What could I say?  I could ask him to stay with me.  It was the only thing that came to mind.  If he was a bum or any stereotypical black man he would find that irresistible.  All he would think was this young white girl was in love with his dick, and that was his golden ticket.  The possibility of being seen with him on campus was crushing however.  And what would he do just stay in my dorm like a stray dog?  What If I offered to go with him?  I would probably get raped, and for real.  I could see me following him to his friends in some ghetto.  Oh shit!  I didn’t even have any other clothes than the revealing swimsuit which revealed my animal rape and the silly costume.  I could just see me walking into a room full of sexually deprived black men in my tiny tights and short skirt.  My mere presence would give them permission to fuck me.  No manner of fighting or crying would stop it.  I was hopeless.  I just needed him to stay long enough to give me some kind of contact information.  If this was a biological hazard I had just unwittingly started a chain reaction.  But If I could keep him close maybe I could watch and make sure nothing was wrong.  “pa-wese-staaay”  I struggled to speak with a held tongue.  I didn’t want to imagine what I might have to do to keep him.

“Bitch.. you wan’ma dick that bad, then you gotta come back here.” 

I didn’t get another chance he let got and I felt him leave his side of the stall.  My mouth was pressed firm against the glory hold so when he opened the door I felt the air pressure change.  He must have only pulled his pants down and already had them back up before I started pleading. 

I was left in a naked mess and there was no way I could catch him.