I love your potty-mouth piper story! It was so hot (And kinda cute)!
Thank you! There will definitely be more, I’ve been busy a lot for the last couple years, but I’m hoping to get back to writing more later this year.
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Do you have any stories on dollification?
I don’t, actually. At least none planned. It’s kind of low on my list of kinks. Thanks for the ask, though! I’ve had a rough time writing lately and knowing that there are people reading definitely helps my motivations a bit!
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“You’ve been snapping secret pictures of my panties all year, but once I found you out, I went home and threw away every pair I owned!!!
You’ll never get another panty pic from me, so I win and you lose! AHAHAHAHAAA!!!”
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First Day of School (Part of the Sodom Virus Chronicles), part 2
Second Subject: Gym Class
Ricki had tried to meditate for the first time in an attempt to calm her nerves. She didn’t exactly know how it was done, but she knew that the likelihood of some magical deus ex machina swooping in to rescue her was close to nil. She was going to have to learn to live in this world whether she liked it or not. Besides, it’s not as if the other girls seemed like they were particularly unhappy.
She stayed away from the window, but some of the girls crawled out to meet with other girls or boys. Best she could tell, aggressively kissing one another is how girls greeted each other. While they addressed males by sort of facing them with downcast eyes for an expectant moment. Sometimes the men engaged them in conversation, some groped them, while others snapped their fingers to command the girl onto her knees or into other positions. It seemed that there were some universally understood hand-gestures that directed girls into one position or the other. Ricki tried to appreciate the opportunity to be a part of this new culture, but she couldn’t fully dismiss her anxieties as she watched Sharaje being anally hate-fucked by two guys in a row. They both used her mouth afterward.
After a few minutes, there was a tone that seemed to signal that they should make their way to the next class. Ricki had managed to make it all the way to second period with her virginity intact, but she had a feeling she may not make it to the end of the day.
Sharaje quickly retrieved a mirror and some wet-wipes from her bag to clean her anus; she angled the mirror to check that her rear-entrance was picture perfect before fixing her hair and lipstick with expert speed. She then bounded happily up to Ricki and took her hand, “Sorry for making you wait, stupid. My asshole is a really popular place for men to cum.”
The pair of them walked hand-in-hand down the hall, “Do you know where we’re going, or are you too much of a retarded fuckhole?” Sharaje asked.
Ricki wasn’t sure where they were going, she hadn’t been given much information, other than where her first class was; she was led to believe that Sharaje would get her up to speed from there. “Umm, no, the man in the front office didn’t tell me much.”
Sharaje stopped short and her expression went stern. She gave Ricki a firm, corrective slap in the face. “Ricki! I know you’re new to the outside world, but it’s never okay to blame your failures on a man! I’ve been assigned to take care of you, and if you get declared a feminist within a certain period of time, I’m going to be punished. So let’s try this again, why don’t you know what class is next?”
“Because I’m a retarded fuckhole.” Ricki spoke with the tone of a girl broken.
“Again.” Sharaje demanded.
“I’m a retarded fuckhole.” She repeated in a lackluster tone.
“Don’t act like you’re being forced, shit-lips.”
That particular insult made Ricki cringe. She knew it was a reference to her dark labia that had been mercilessly mocked by the class a few minutes before. She decided to use the hurt to speak decisively, “I’m a retarded fuckhole!” She spoke loud enough that a few other students passing by in the hall snickered at her.
“That’s a good cunt.” Sharaje said as she rubbed the side of her head as if petting an animal, which Ricki supposed was the best way women could be regarded here. Her mind latched onto something her “friend” had said. If she failed to assimilate and got sent to one of the feminist “repositories,” Sharaje would get punished? Was she only being mean to try to get Ricki accustomed to this society as quickly as possible? Because something really bad might happen to her if she failed?
Maybe the two of them really could be friends. Maybe Ricki was actually lucky in a way. After all, it seemed like Sharaje was thriving in this world, maybe she could learn how to thrive, too.
The two girls continued walking together to someplace that Sharaje either forgot to or intentionally neglected to tell her. She noticed that all of the female students and many of the male students seemed to be heading in the same direction. Eventually, they made their way out through the large double doors that opened upon what appeared to be a large athletics field. Just beyond that was a waist-high fence and then a busy street. It seemed like every girl in the school was out here.
She got lost briefly trying to figure out what was going on when Sharaje gave her a firm, yet somehow friendly slap between the legs. “Over here.” She pointed to several rows of square lockers. Ricki followed as she made her way to a particular one. “We can share mine until you get your own.” As she spoke, she hooked her fingers under the bottom of her shirt and flipped it off in one swift motion. She opened the locker, folded the garment neatly, and placed it inside.
Ricki was stunned. She knew by now that she shouldn’t be, but she couldn’t help it. This wasn’t a locker room or a changing room. It wasn’t a room at all! It was just rows of lockers on an exterior wall. She could see lines of cars going past just a few dozen feet away. Along with pedestrians of various ages. Some of whom stopped to watch as a few hundred teen girls all stripped publicly naked in unison.
She knew that resistance was hopeless. At least this time, she wouldn’t be the only one exposed. She began to undress and placed her shirt and bra timidly in the locker next to Sharaje’s things. Sharaje, meanwhile, had produced a small bottle of solvent from her bag and was painting it onto her butt to dissolve the glue that ensured the spreader-jeans kept her holes perpetually exposed. It was an irony that taking her pants off would actually allow more modesty in her case.
The two girls had just finished undressing when Ricki noticed a girl emerge from the double doors. She had apparently taken her time on account of the fact that she was already naked as the day she was born. She also looked strong… really strong. She had this vibe like a bad-ass lady superhero from old comic books. Except a more teen-aged version.
Her and Sharaje exchanged a grin that wasn’t entirely friendly and the new girl walked over. Sharaje spoke first, “Hey Loose Caboose, ready to tongue kiss the tightest asshole in the school?” She turned her hips to spread her ass in the muscular girl’s general direction.
“Well, I would kiss the tightest one in the school, but I’m not flexible enough to reach my own yet.” The tone suggested a friendly rivalry, but in Ricki’s mind, she had to process for a moment. Their rivalry was about who had the tighter anus?? She had a brief sinking feeling; is that what all the girls were going to be doing today? Testing how tight their buttholes were???
She’d tried to hold her tongue for fear of saying something wrong, but she had to ask this time. “Umm, excuse me, cunt?” she tried to speak to other women disrespectfully, but it still felt awkward, and she was certain it sounded as such, too. “What are you talking about? What’s happening today?”
Both girls stared at her, but thankfully Sharaje didn’t let the silence linger too long. “Oh, this is Dephile. She’s a rapist!”
“I’m not just a rapist. I’m the best rapist in the state.” Dephile declared proudly.
“Only for high school.” Sharaje shot back derisively.
“Choke on a dick, you fat slunt, I have scouts for college rape teams all over me.”
Ricki was confused. “Wait, what do you mean she’s a rapist?” The question was addressed at Sharaje.
“Wow, your stupid cult didn’t even let you watch tv?? Rape has become pretty much the biggest sport over the last, like, ten or fifteen years. Two sluts get into a ring and try to win points by penetrating each other’s holes. There’s like a different number of points for-”
Sharaje was interrupted when Dephile slammed her forcefully against the lockers and leveraged her arm against her back. “Maybe you should let an athlete explain it, soft-bodied whore.”
Dephile’s body was extraordinary, watching her exert herself to hold a struggling Sharaje in place allowed Ricki to see the smooth, defined muscles writhe beneath her skin. She continued her explanation. “A rapist wins point by violating the holes of her opponent. That can be done through penetration, like the stupid skank here said,” Dephile then demonstrated by jamming two fingers dry up Sharaje’s asshole. It was clear that she was clenching hard to resist, her body thrashed but Dephile’s strong grip kept her pinned against the lockers, the powerful fingers dry-forcing their way inside. “Or she can win points by defilement, like so.”
Dephile performed a maneuver so quickly that Ricki wouldn’t even begin to be able to describe it, but it ended with Sharaje bent back on her knees and her face clamped between Dephile’s legs. Her mouth was pressed firmly against the strong woman’s cunt as she began to piss, with impressive accuracy, straight up Sharaje’s nostrils. She began to choke and cough, but Dephile was using her smooth cunt to gag her, ensuring that there was no way to get air without sucking urine through her nose.
When she’d finally emptied her bladder onto Sharaje’s face, ensuring that a decent amount ended up in her lungs, she finally released her face from the death-grip of her thighs. She went to stand up, but Dephile apparently wasn’t done with her, yet. After a sweep of the legs, Sharaje was face down with Dephile kneeling on the small of her back. “Of course, double points are awarded any time a rapist can force a self-violation.” She demonstrated this by gripping Sharaje’s hand tightly and wrenching her arm back so that she could sodomize the girl with her own fingers.”
Finally, she released the thrashing Sharaje and took a step backward to allow her room to stand. “I have a match after school today. You cunts should come cheer for me!”
Sharaje stood and wiped the piss and snot and tears from her flawless arabian features. “Gee, thanks for explaining, Dephile.” Her words oozed with sarcasm, “Say ‘thank you,’ Ricki.”
“Umm, thank you!” Ricki said, seeming almost surprised by her own words.
It was about this time that all three girls noticed that nearly everyone else in the class had lined up near the fence of the school. By this point, Ricki was able to deduce that the purpose was to place the girls as close to the public as possible to maximize their humiliation.
A group of middle-school aged boys leaned on the fence casually a few feet away and just admired the wall of naked teen girl-flesh as they chatted amongst themselves.
There were a few women who looked old enough to be teachers standing in front of the line facing the girls. But it seemed that most of the instructors were simply athletic students. Dephile had a group a bit farther down. Once all the girls were in position, the naked girls acting as instructors prompted them all to go through a course of basic calisthenics.
Ricki was sweating and out of breath after the first few exercises. She looked around to see that she was seemingly the only one. While not all the other students had particularly athletic-looking physiques, they were apparently all unquestionably in-shape. The exercises continued. The line of naked sluts extended, flexed, bent, and twisted in enough different directions to ensure that every muscle in their bodies was lithe and supple. The others made it look easy, but Ricki was actually getting light-headed by the time they were told to go for a jog around the perimeter of the school.
Ricki was the last one of the group to make it back to her position, having spent the last ten minutes staring out over a sea of slick, jiggling asses moving progressively farther from her. It took all her strength not to collapse on the spot. She was dripping with sweat and wheezing. Sharaje and the others, she noticed, had nearly caught their breath by the time she returned, and their skin had a healthy glow of faint perspiration. Ricki thought she must be more out of shape than she realized, and hoped that there would be a break soon.
Thankfully, the next segment of class seemed to center around stretching. It was a chance to get her heart-rate under control. Although her profound lack of proficiency soon became apparent. Ricki never thought of herself as stiff, but these other girls had a level of limberness that seemed more appropriate to dancers or gymnasts. While Ricki could touch her toes, most of the other students had their large fleshy tits bulging out as they pressed their chests against their knees. When they were instructed to lay on their backs for a groin stretch, Ricki seemed to be the only girl she could see not doing a full split. Sharaje actually had her feet pressed to the ground roughly in line with her shoulders, legs spread well past a hundred-eighty degrees.
Ricki had caught her breath, but the lightheadedness still hadn’t totally faded. She did, however, have to admit that this society certainly promoted a much higher level of fitness than the Compound ever did. Maybe that’s why all the girls seemed so happy in spite of everything that was going on? She remembered reading about how stretching can stimulate happy chemicals in the brain, and these girls certainly seem to do a lot of it.
She was shaken back to attention by the P.E. teacher explaining something about testing and ranking their holes? A part of her really hoped that wouldn’t be a horrible, humiliating, degrading experience, but she expected that it probably would be.
The teacher led them all to a different section of the field. The first thing she noticed was a bunch of rectangular blocks about knee high and roughly four feet long. The second thing she noticed was the very prominent scoreboard that spanned one of the school's higher walls. On it seemed to be the name of every girl in the school. Actually, she noticed, every girl’s name was on it twice. The left section was labelled “Anal” and the right section was labelled “Vaginal.” From top to bottom had a smaller label that read “tightest” at the top and “loosest” at the bottom.
Was this really happening?? Was this school really going to test how tight her asshole and pussy were? And then post them up on a scoreboard for…. not just the whole school, but also anyone who happened to pass by?!? The thing that made her most sick to her stomach was the knowledge that if she performed as badly on this as she did on everything else, she’d almost certainly rank at the bottom. Her eyes darted to the very top of the board. The anal side had two names she knew. In first place Sharaje, just beneath her, Dephile. The vaginal scoreboard was reversed, with Dephile seeming to have the tightest cunt and Sharaje coming in second. Then she noticed Sharaje’s name again, in what appeared to be a place of honor above both lists. “Tightest hole: Sharaje’s anus” That must have been what the two of them were teasing each other about earlier. Sharaje’s taunt of “Loose Caboose” made more sense now. Ricki inwardly giggled at the immature wordplay.
Still the prospect made her feel a bit lightheaded. Each of the teachers read off a pair of names from a list, and two girls approached them. They each took their place on the wooden platforms on their hands and knees facing away from one another.
The instructor pulled a few supplies that seemed to have been stored inside the base of the platform. A peculiar rope, a bucket, and sturdy looking box. She grabbed the thin rope, it had a two-inch metal ball on each end. She roughly shoved the ball on one end into one of the girls vaginas and then did the same to the other, so that the rope hung between them, suspended by their cunts.
She then hooked the bucket over the midpoint of the rope, which was indicated by a red line. From the sturdy box, she pulled a small metal brick, about the size of a brownie and dropped it in the bucket.
As nervous as Ricki felt, she was still fascinated as she came to understand the process. A rope was held up by each girl’s hole, and weight was added to the midpoint. The first girl to release the rope was the loser. Furthermore, one could approximately rank tightness by knowing how much weight caused each girl to fail. Ricki guessed that the list of match-ups was determined by previous testing so that girls were going up against competitors of similar tightness.
“You’re gonna be at the bottom, loser.” Sharaje’s voice came from behind her, confirming her fears. The statuesque goddess followed up by grabbing Ricki’s pussy and roughly shoving a few fingers inside of her. She mockingly jerked the fingers side to side, causing a humiliatingly loud, wet noise with her genitals. A few of the girls nearby looked at her and laughed, some mocking how wet she was at the prospect of the whole school knowing that she was a used up slut with a sloppy cunt. She wasn’t actually wet at all, it seemed that Sharaje just had a certain expertise when it came to embarrassing other girls. “Yup, definitely last place,” Sharaje concluded as she used Ricki’s hair to wipe off her fingers.
Ricki tried to push her anxieties to the back of her mind and observe the bizarre challenge. Pairs of girls competed against each other to see who had the tightest cunt and asshole. Sometimes the winner would aggressively mock the girl she’d beaten, other times she’d boast and be congratulated by her friends on the victory while the loser was ignored.
Eventually she heard one of the teachers call a pair of names that prompted everyone to silence. “Dephile and Sharaje, you’re up!”
Sharaje bounded up girlishly, her perfect fake tits bouncing as she went, she faced her opponent with the typical arrogant “mean girl” smile. Dephile marched forward, her bare feet slapping the asphalt as her dense, muscular form took her place. She glared back with humorless menace.
The teacher commanded them to their places on the wooden platforms. The rest of the girls quieted down and crowded around to watch the top two girls compete. The two naked forms struck a perfect quadrupedal pose, backs arched to spread their asses; ensuring their holes were proudly displayed.
Their cunts were first to be tested. Each metal sphere was pushed into their perfect pink holes. Dephile’s puffy labia seemed to be just about the only part of her body that displayed any softness; even her artificially enhanced tits were taut.
Both girls had an expression of focused cockiness as the instructor hung the bucket from the midpoint between them. The dykey looking naked P.E. teacher didn’t waste time at the beginning; she tossed the iron blocks in as quickly as she could count them for the first twenty or so. After that she started slowing down a bit, adding one more before pausing for a count of five, then adding another. The time was to give them a chance to fail each time another weight was added. This went on for more than a minute; eventually the bucket was close to overflowing and the dyke twenty-something needed to quickly grab a second bucket that she hooked onto the rim of the first.
Ricki had to admit that she was kinda impressed. A few of the other girls had managed to get their bucket almost full before they failed, but these two were obviously way ahead of the other girls, and neither seemed like they were about the crack. Another full minute passed with the second bucket being almost half full and then it happened!
There was a loud sound of spilling iron as the bucket tumbled to the ground. “NOO!” It was the slightly butch voice of Dephile, who’d released first. Sharaje hopped to her feet and threw her hands in the air triumphantly, the rope still hanging from between her legs. After striking a victory pose for her classmates, she pulled the ball from her orifice and rubbed the cunt-juice saturated piece of metal on Dephile’s face mockingly. The muscular woman was clenching her teeth so hard it’s a wonder she didn’t crack one; Ricki could tell that it was taking everything she had not to beat Sharaje to within an inch of her life.
Ricki studied the encounter, it seemed almost as if there were unwritten social rules regarding when women could behave abusively toward one another. In this particular circumstance, Dephile needed to behave with deference. Was it because Sharaje had proven superiority? Did females in this society have complex rules of a perpetually shifting hierarchy? That seemed consistent with a lot of what she’d seen so far.
The teacher declared that they’d have a two minute rest before “testing your backdoor strength” as she put it. The sporty instructor seemed to be good-natured, and seemed to have a tattoo on her lower back that Ricki had been trying to make out. As she was re-setting some of the iron blocks from the buckets, she was finally able to make out that it said “Dyke 4 Dick” in a beautifully symmetrical script that framed her perky little ass.
There was a bit of a murmur from around Ricki. It seemed they were wondering if the rankings would be reversed this month, since Sharaje apparently had the tighter cunt for the first time. Ricki got the impression that Dephile had held that title as long as anyone remembered.
The two minutes were up and the cute lesbian whisled at the girls to resume their places while the rest of the girls watched. There had been a couple other pairs of girls being tested during their first round, but it seemed that the teachers and student-teachers respected that this was a big deal. So at the moment, all eyes were on the two naked sluts as the two-inch metal balls were shoved into their asses.
Dephile’s confidence seemed to be wavering, based on the scoreboard, her shitter had lost to Sharaje’s in the past. After all, it was the body part Sharaje was known for; hell, she was even named after her anus.
The teacher elected not to start from scratch, but simply hung the first full bucket from the mid-point in the rope. Neither girl seemed to have much of a problem. The second bucket was hooked to the rim as it had been the first time and she began counting in weights.
Both girls' assholes were tightly clenched around their respective ends of the apparatus, they seemed to have a deep sense of determination as the second bucket slowly filled up over the course of the next couple of minutes. When no more could fit in the second bucket, the dyke teacher looked back and forth between the two girls with the iron assholes. They both seemed to be showing signs of exertion, with Sharaje having a slightly greater sheen of perspiration. She waited a few moments to see if either of them would fail, but neither let go. She quickly rushed to get a third bucket, something she seemed utterly unprepared to need.
She returned and was preparing to attach the third bucket. Ricki found herself honestly rooting for Sharaje to win. She may have been a bully, but she was the closest thing Ricki had to a friend. Her heart sunk as she saw the arabian beauty’s face contort in exertion, she was reaching her limit. Then there was the loud clang of spilling metal that almost made her ears ring.
“Winner! Sharaje!” the teacher declared. Ricki looked to see Dephile with the ball having dropped out of her anus. She angrily punched the platform hard enough to draw blood on her knuckles. Sharaje sprung up from the platform, still breathing heavily from the exertion and let out this giggle-scream of triumph. She hopped over to Dephile, who had just reluctantly stood up, wound her arm back as far as it would go, and slapped the muscle-bound bitch hard across the face.
“Get ready to spend the next month kissing my asshole, you fucking loser!” Sharaje punctuated the sentence by grabbing a handful of Dephile’s hair and spitting in her face. Dephile looked broken, a combination of anger and shame washed across her face and threatened to flood out of her eyes in the form of tears. “You know, actually? You’re such an ugly jock loser that you don’t even deserve to kiss my asshole yet. I’m gonna have you beg to kiss every other girl’s asshole and tell them how much better they are then yours. Then, maybe when you’ve had some practice I’ll allow you the honor of pressing your lips against my perfect, superior hole.”
Sharaje seemed absolutely prepared to spend the remainder of the class period publicly humiliating Dephile, but the teacher stepped in and dismissed them back to their places so that the rest of the students could be tested.
For a moment, Ricki almost forgot that she would eventually have to be subjected to this same violation and humiliation. But she noticed a pit in the bottom of her stomach and her knees felt weak. She also became distinctly aware of the fact that the dizziness she experienced after the jog still hadn’t subsided. She wasn’t sure if she was really just that out of shape or if the stress of the day was really having that much of an impact. She elected to try to put her worries out of her mind and just focus on her breathing for a little while in the hopes that she’d be in better shape by the time her name was called.
Her heart was racing even before the dyke teacher called her name. It’s just nerves, she told herself, everyone else here is doing this and they’re all fine. This is normal here, it’ll just take some getting used to.
Ricki’s knees almost buckled when she took a step forward, but she managed to catch herself. She was paired off against the asian girl who was dressed like a slutty anime character in first period; the outfit was gone, but the hair and make-up still made her memorable.
After a few tries, Ricky managed to climb up onto the platform and assume the position. Though she nearly fell when she lifted a hand to wipe some of the sweat from her face. I’m still sweating? She didn’t feel hot, in fact the air on her naked skin was beginning to give her a bit of a chill.
She felt the metal ball pressing into her vagina, it took a bit of force for the teacher to get it in. After all, Ricki had never had anything bigger than her fingers inside herself, so maybe that’d work to her advantage, she thought. The metal ball wasn’t particularly big, but it’s bulk was still enough to cause a bit of pain when it was forced in. The teacher behind her hooked the bucket onto the midpoint of the rope, and Ricki immediately felt the cold metal mass withdraw from her and hit the ground.
There was a smattering of laughter from the other girls. “She’s so loose, she couldn’t even hold the empty bucket!!!” One of the girls shouted. Ricki turned her head to see who spoke but all she could see was a blurry mass of pink and brown flesh.
She felt the teacher’s hand gently on her bare shoulder, “I know this is your first time, fuckpet, but you need to clench a little bit at the beginning and then go harder as I add the weights, okay? Do you understand?” She sounded legitimately kind and encouraging.
“I understand. I… I’ll try better,” Ricki replied. She sensed the teacher moving behind her again, and felt the cold metal once again penetrate her. It fell out again almost immediately. She heard the other students taunting her again but they were starting to sound really distant. Her dizziness was getting worse by the second. She had a vague sense of the teacher at her side speaking to her again, but there was an encroaching blackness at the edges of her vision.
This wasn’t just nerves, something was wrong. Ricki was feeling really bad. She decided to try saying something to the teacher. She took a deep breath and as she tried to speak, everything went black…
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Sharking Sherry (Chapter 1, repost)
So I have, at last, managed to get the Introduction to the fifth and final member of the Pervert Pentet. I’m pretty excited about that because it means the first part of this series is done. I actually wanted to write Sherry’s story earlier, but I put it off a bit after I decided that it would be written in first person from the perspective of someone who’s a much bigger anime/hentai fan than me. It’s always tricky trying to realistically write a character who knows much more than you about something.
This is probably my most wholesome story so far, so there’s not really any content warnings needed, but as a bonus, there is a bit of a flash-forward to the point where all five of the character’s stories converge.
My name is Sherry Sugisaki, I’m twenty-two years old, single, blood type B, and as of today, I’m the official club historian for the Pervert Pentet!
The Pervert Pentet is a club that me and four of my best friends formed so that we could all get together and just be ourselves without other people calling us weirdos or sluts. Well, except for Piper. She calls everybody a slut, but trust me, compared to the other things that come out of her mouth, “slut” is a compliment!
Piper is kind of our leader. She’s the first girl I ever met who was an even bigger perv than me! She’s so smart it’s a little scary, and she always speaks her mind. The only problem is that her mind is always in the gutter!
Nancy is the muscle of the group. She’s the tall athletic type, and way prettier than she realizes. She can be a little intimidating, but I think deep down she has a good heart. I haven’t really gotten close to her yet, and Piper says I probably shouldn’t try to. Nancy says that she doesn’t want to hang out with me because she doesn’t like Asian people (except she said it in a way that wasn’t quite so polite), but I think maybe she just had a hard life and she’s not ready to trust people, yet. And she’s always hanging out with Teira anyway.
Speaking of Teira, she’s this rich, famous artist from Europe. Nancy went to one of her art performances a while back and Teira saw something special in her. Ever since then, Nancy has kinda been Teira’s sidekick. Teira can be a little scary too, but in a different way. While Nancy seems tough, Teira’s… well, creepy. She never smiles, never seems to have an opinion about anything, and she kinda has this icy-cold “I’d like to see you chopped into neat little pieces” vibe. In fact, the only time I’ve ever seen her look excited is when I introduced her to guro porn.
Bailee is the last girl who joined our club. She’s usually kinda dumb, exept sometimes she’s not? We’re all still trying to figure out exactly what her deal is. She’s sooo much fun to hang out with, though! And she’s actually into cute things, like me! As much as I love Piper, some of the things she’s into gross me out. But with Bailee, we can talk about cute boys, and go clothes shopping! Plus, she looks like the big-boobed girls in hentai, but in real life!
But you’ll get to know them later. They say to write what you know about, so I guess I’ll start by telling you about myself!
I grew up in the U.S. but my father is from Japan. My mom is from here, but ethnically, she’s half European and half Brazilian, which I think is why I have a bigger butt than most Japanese girls. My dad was the typical Asian father, which means that he worked all the time to provide for me and my mom, but I never really got to spend much time with him. I guess that’s why I started getting into Japanese culture at a young age. I was into all the normal stuff like Pokemon and Sailor Moon and Hello Kitty, so it was really exciting when I was little and my mom got me a subscription to this really cool anime streaming service!
But even though my mom really liked Japanese history and culture, I don’t think she realized just quite how naughty some parts of it can be. While other pre-teen girls dreamed of a storybook romance with a handsome man who buys them pretty dresses and mansions, I thought up pranks to play on my romantic rivals when we were all crowded into a little house along with our collective boyfriend! When I finally learned what other little girls fantasized about, it just seemed so boring! And lonely, too. I mean, sure, being in a harem seems like it might get a little crazy sometimes, but it’s also exciting. And besides, when things get really tough the girls always put their differences aside to solve problems as a family!
I guess watching all those shows gave me a sense of humor that wasn’t exactly “politically correct.” But honestly, it’s funny when busty girls get their boobs yanked out, or when lecherous milf-types molest shy, blushing lolis. Oh! And when bad-ass fighter girls get their clothes all ripped up during a battle and they suddenly realize that everybody can see that they’re not wearing panties and then they’re all like “Eep! Don’t look!!” That’s the best!
Okay, okay, maaaaaaybe it’s not just that I think it’s funny. Maybe it turns me on a little bit, too. But can you blame me? I mean, when you see a pretty girl on the street, don’t you just want to pull her dress up or yank her boobs out?? Of course you do! Everybody does, they just don’t talk about it. The only difference is that in my case I actually do it!
I’m getting ahead of myself again. I should back up. So when I was in middle school, my parents let me get a smart phone with internet access. And let me tell you, if you think anime is naughty, you haven’t seen hentai! I mean, there’s stuff that’s even too dirty for me! But eventually I came across one kind of video that made me obsessed. And for once, it wasn’t animated at all.
The first time I saw it, I was confused. It just seemed like a guy with a camera-phone following this cute girl in a skirt. But then this guy came out of nowhere and pulled up her skirt and yanked down her panties! She made this cute little “Eeeee!” noise while the guy ran off. It was so cute, and so funny, and so super hot! I figured that video had to be one of a kind, but boy was I wrong!
Apparently it’s called “sharking.” I never quite found a satisfactory explanation for the name, but it started in Japan (just like all the best pervy stuff!), and the idea is to run up to a girl and expose her while somebody else films and puts it online for everyone to enjoy! There’s all kinds of varieties. Top-sharking works best when you find a girl in a tube-top and you can pull her boobs out. Bottom-sharking works best for girls in a short skirt; and if you’re really lucky, you might find a girl who isn’t wearing panties! There’s even cosplay-sharking! That’s when you steal all of a girl’s clothes and run off with them, but you leave her a super cute, slutty outfit that she has to wear if she doesn’t want to walk home naked. Personally, just regular full-sharking is my favorite. That’s when you strip a girl naked and run off with her clothes while the camera guy follows her while she figures out what to do. It’s so exciting! I mean, at first the girl thinks it’s just going to be a regular boring old day, but then she gets to be part of this awesome sexy adventure where she’s naked in public! And nobody can even get upset at her because it’s not even her fault! Everybody wins!
I should know, I’m proud to say that I’m one of the few girls who’s been on both sides. You see, after I graduated high school, I got my parents to finally agree to pay for me to take a year off to visit Japan! It was everything I ever dreamed! I was surrounded by signs displaying happy anime characters, I got to ride public transit with groups of cute, giggly school girls and handsome, studious schoolboys. There were night-clubs with lolita-goths and J-pop was playing everywhere!
The only thing that could have made it better was if I could have had a romantic encounter with a cute boy. I think everyone who visits a foreign country kinda wishes that they could have a special lover to think back on fondly when they’re old and grey. Unfortunately, no matter how many blind corners I hurried around, I never accidentally collided with my true love. Not even when I had toast in my mouth!
I figured maybe I still dressed too much like a kid, and boys were scared that I was under-aged. So I decided to show off my assets! While I was far from flat-chested in America, in Japan my full C-cup breasts made me downright busty. And the Brazilian butt I inherited from mom put me way ahead of at least ninety percent of the other girls in Japan. So I got some new button up shirts that were small enough to hug my curves, and I left a few buttons undone. I also bought new mini-skirts short enough to ensure my panties would be visible with even the slightest breeze. Everybody in Japan is really into panties.
Unfortunately, most of the male attention I got from the new wardrobe was from middle-aged men who took advantage of crowded trains to touch my butt. But I wasn’t about to get discouraged! I mean, it’s not ideal, but if I’m getting attention, than I must be on the right track!
And then one day it happened! I was in a public park a short walk from where I was staying. I had my headphones on, listening to my Japanese language-learning app when this guy came out of nowhere and yanked my little school-girl skirt up to my waist and then pulled my white panties down to my knees!
I always thought that if I ever got sharked myself, that I’d do something really sexy, like wink or do a little pose or something. But honestly, the whole thing happened really fast so I hardly had a chance to react. And I didn’t even see where the camera guy was. I was just sort of… frozen. I just stood there with my panties halfway down my legs as the guy in the hoodie ran off.
A part of me thought that I wished I’d been more prepared for it, but on the other hand, that’s part of the fun! Unlike most Japanese girls, I keep everything totally shaved down there, so they definitely got a shot of my naked pussy. And there were going to put it online! How exciting is that! Once I pulled my panties back up they immediately got soaked. I felt like I’d just won the best prize ever! Now any-time somebody is looking at sharking videos on the internet, there would be a chance that they’d get to see me! I just hoped that the camera guy was good enough that I’d be popular.
I spent the next week looking at sharking videos more than I ever had before, but sadly, I still couldn’t find mine! I knew it would take time, but I just couldn’t wait. Part of me hoped that it’d go viral. Maybe it’d become the most popular sharking video of all time, and I’d get to be the poster-girl for the whole fetish! I’d be so famous that when people saw me in the street they’d yank up my dress and take pictures of my exposed body while I pretended to blush. I mean, I knew it wasn’t likely, but a girl can dream!
After a week of looking at every sharking related site I could I eventually came across this post written in Japanese that looked like it was a local casting call for a girl to be in a video! They must have been a really bad writer, because I could hardly understand it and my Japanese is perfect! I mean, I watched One Punch Man without subtitles and totally understood every word…. well most of them… I mean, at least half…
Let’s get one thing straight! I’m a Japanese girl so I obviously speak Japanese! They must have been speaking a weird dialect and that’s why I didn’t understand them that well, okay?!?
Anyway, the post said they wanted a girl to be in a sharking video, and I knew I wanted to be that girl. In all the videos I saw, it was always boys running up and exposing unsuspecting women. I’ve never seen girl-on-girl sharking! What a concept!
After a few messages back and forth, I ended up meeting them at this cute cafe by the beach. That’s when I got really excited! Bikini sharking is one of the best ways to get a girl totally naked in public! I’ve even seen it done where a guy gets two girls tops and bottoms off at once!
I didn’t catch the camera guy’s name, but the one who did most of the talking was named Kaito. I started asking them if there were any special techniques I should know so I could undo a girl’s bikini faster, but they seemed confused. I don’t know how, but there must have been a miscommunication. It seemed like they wanted to me to go somewhere private and stage a fake sharking. They said they were going to make sure to do it where no one would see me and they’d give me my clothes back at the end!
What a cheap trick! I told them that there’s no way. Either they have to shark me for real or I was going home!
I was pretty mad, so I laid out my terms and made sure they knew that there would be no negotiation! One: They had to strip me completely naked! Boobs, ass, pussy, it all had to be on display. Two: They had to do it someplace where lots of people would see. Three: sometimes in the really good sharking videos the guys would spread a girls legs or pull her butt-cheeks apart while the camera guy runs in close, that way everybody on the internet gets a good look at her vagina and butthole. I told them they had to do that, too! And four: Under no circumstances were they allowed to give me my clothes back or let me have anything to cover myself with afterwards.
If I was getting to be part of planning a sharking video, I was going to make sure it was the best one ever! There was no way I was going home unless it was completely naked!
Kaito and his friend whispered to each other for a minute, and then they asked me if I’d be willing to ditch some of my clothes in advance so that they could get me naked faster. Finally! They were saying something that made sense! And honestly, they had a point. I’m ashamed to admit that before that day I used to dress in a terribly un-sharkable way. Ever since then, the only question I ask when choosing an outfit was “How easy would it be for someone to get me naked in public?”
Anyway, I slipped away into a public bathroom to ditch my shirt, bra, and underwear. So now I was just wearing the zippered hoodie I put on when I thought I was going to get to shark a girl, and my mini-skirt. I told the guys that I was going to try to find a place off to the side of the boardwalk, far enough so that nobody could intervene, but close enough that everybody could still see my naked body.
I waited there for about five minutes, and I was starting to think they had gotten scared off, but then I saw the one with the camera sneaking up around the corner of a nearby building. I tried not to look directly at him, but I still wanted my front-side facing the camera.
My heart started racing as I heard Kaito coming up behind me! They must have been discussing technique, because he grabbed the bottom of my skirt and yanked it up until it gathered along with the hem of my hoodie. In an expertly practiced maneuver that seemed almost like a matador with a cape, he swept both garments up over my head and then down off my arms!
Suddenly, I was standing in the middle of a wide open public space in the middle of the day and I was completely naked! The sun seemed like a spotlight that shone down to reveal every private inch of my body.
Kaito tossed my hoodie and skirt and then grabbed my arms to bend me over a nearby bench. That’s when I saw the camera guy running in close while I felt his hands on my butt-cheeks. He reached down to the very bottom and spread everything open wide. The camera guy got in so close he must have been within a foot or two of my most private areas! I sure was glad that I’d shaved that morning; I mean, with the close-up he got of my pussy and asshole, everyone on the internet would have seen if I had even the tiniest bit of stubble.
I’d almost forgot! This was going on the internet! My heart was racing and I wasn’t sure if it was from fear or excitement. As scary as the whole thing was, I was still getting really wet really fast! I hoped that that camera could pick that up so that everyone would see how much girls like this kind of thing! I sort of moaned and wiggled a little bit, but then the two of them ran off. Thankfully they remembered to grab my clothes on the way, so that I wouldn’t have the option to cover myself!
I stood up to see two middle-aged ladies running up to me and yelling something at the men. I must have looked freaked out because they seemed a bit confused and frantic, like they wanted to help me but didn’t know how. Honestly, I was a little freaked out, too, but it was in a good way! Like when you ride a roller-coaster. Like, it’s really exciting and so scary that you scream but it’s also really fun! When I think back on it, I’m pretty sure I actually did scream when he first came up behind me and pulled all my clothes off.
The shorter lady had a jacked that she was unbuttoning, I realized that she was going to try to cover me up! What a prude! She must have just been jealous that a pretty young thing like me was getting to walk around naked in public and show off the goods when she was never brave enough to do anything like that!
I decided I was going to rush off down the boardwalk before she got a chance. I was still super nervous and excited. My heart felt like it was pounding in my throat and I was out of breath from the thrill of it all.
I had the temptation to cover myself with my hands, but I half-resisted. I must have looked kinda shy because I kept sort of covering my pussy, and then half-covering my boobs, and then I put both hands behind me to cover my butt. So anyone who kept looking for more than a second would have seen everything. And there were people everywhere, so even if I wanted to cover myself (which I totally didn’t), there was no way I could have.
I kinda figured that everyone would be staring at me and taking pictures and commenting on my body; I hoped that by the time I made it a hundred meters that I’d have a whole crowd of men around me, but honestly, no one said a thing! Some people glanced, and now and then someone would stare for a few seconds, but the majority of people averted their eyes and just pretended I wasn’t there!
They seemed almost… scared to look at me. This was even better than I could have imagined! I mean, at first I was a little disappointed that people weren’t excited to take in the sight of my naked, young body, but then I realized something! It wasn’t just fun and sexy to be naked in public, it also felt kinda… powerful!
Once I realized that, I stopped acting shy. I stopped trying to cover myself at all. In fact, I slowed down my stride and put on a cocky grin. By the time I reached the end of the boardwalk I was staring people right in the eye, but nobody had the guts to look back at me.
It was about a ten-minute walk back to where I was staying, but I decided I was going to make it take fifteen! There was even a spot where a dozen people were waiting for a train, and I decided to stand in front of all of them and check my phone for a good two minutes! Fortunately, I had the foresight to stick my phone, wallet, and apartment key in my sock before I had those guys steal all my clothes. I made sure to bend down in front of everybody when I took my phone out so they could have a chance to admire my naked butt.
I hoped that at least someone noticed how wet this was making me! I mean, I was starting to literally drip down the inside of my leg! I figured I’d better make my way home before my socks end up getting soaked.
When I got home I retrieved my apartment key from my sock and saw my neighbor coming home with a bag of groceries. I smiled and gave him a big wave, but he acted like he couldn’t see me. I unlocked my door and went inside.
The first thing I did was down a can of green tea, as fun as the whole walk was, my mouth was dry as a desert. As much as I enjoyed myself, it was nerve-wracking. The whole time I was sort of afraid the police were going to show up any minute, but that never happened.
All in all, the whole thing was way different than I expected. I guess that since I’m a perv, I expected that everyone else would be one, too. But everybody else was so well behaved. So I guess that makes me special!
Realizing that I was a pervert who walks around naked in public and gets off on exposing myself to strangers was the best moment of my life. It made me feel like I could do things that regular people couldn’t. Kaito sent me the video of my full-sharking the next day. Apparently, they had followed me almost all the way home without me even realizing it! They sure got some amazing shots and I’m proud to say that it has over a hundred-thousand views and counting.
I never found out the name of the guy who pulled my panties down that first day in the park. But a couple years later when I met Piper she’d tracked down the original video of me that he made. I posted a thank-you message in the comments telling him how grateful I was that he chose me, and how he changed my life for the better.
Ya know, it’s funny. Of all the girls that I’ve exposed in public and put online since that day, not a single one has posted a ‘thank-you’ message to me under their videos. Then again, I don’t do this for thanks, I do it for the knowledge that I’m helping others live the life that every girl wants! I’m helping them to be the perverts that deep down they all definitely wish they could be!
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Bimbo Bailee (Chapter 1, part 2 repost)
(Part of the Pervert Pentet Series. Content warning: subtext of tragic loss)
“Hmmmm.” she made the noise as she struggled to figure out the puzzle before her. Her eyes narrowed to closely examine the sidewalk below. She’d happened to be walking past a nightclub with a rather substantial queue of people spilling down the street. It was evening now, so she’d switched from her tank-top and micro mini-skirt into a pink tube top and ultra-mini skirt (it was really more like a belt made of fabric than a skirt); she used the public changing room a few blocks from her house, the little one with the glass walls and the old-time telephone on one side. At least this one guy she knew told her that it was a changing room. She kinda remembered something about how Superman changed clothes in a thing like that so it made sense to her. The guy said how the glass seemed clear from the inside, but that in reality nobody could see in because it was two way glass or something? Bailee thought it was really complicated, but he obviously knew better than her. She always liked to get totally naked when she was inside there and act really slutty since nobody could see her. She’d shake her tits or spread her ass, or sometimes even masturbate. There weren’t that many of the telephone changing booth thingies around anymore, so she figured that this one was kind of a tourist attraction, what with the big crowd and all the people taking pictures when she was inside. By a big coincidence, she always managed to get to it right before the crowd formed! How lucky is that!
“Hmmmmmmmm.” She bent down further to try to examine the sidewalk. One of the really nice men in the line had told her she’d dropped something and she should bend down to pick it up. After a few seconds of looking, she’d told him that she didn’t see anything, but he assured her that something was down there and that she should keep looking. She was sooo lucky that men were so patient with her. She wasn’t that bright, and she had no idea what she’d do without nice men helping her the way they always did. Like that doctor guy who told her that it’s better for her body that if, when she bends over, she plants her feet wide and bends at the waist with her back straight.
“Hmmmmmmmmmm.” She kept repeating the noise while she kept trying, like, really super hard to figure out what she dropped and why she couldn’t see it. It was starting to make her head hurt, and she’d been bending over to look for it for probably a good two minutes now. Finally she stood up and apologized to the nice man who told her she dropped something. That’s when she noticed that there were several people behind her who all seemed to have their camera-phones out and pointed at her.
She hopped in excitement; the huge, firm, silicone tits almost whacking her in the chin as she did so. “Oh my gosh! You wanna take my picture? Yay! Thanks, everybody!” She quickly flipped the golden waves of hair that cascaded over her shoulders and struck a pose. She may not have been so good with thinky stuff, but this? This she was good at! It was the number one most important thing for a girl to know how to be pretty and sexy, after all! She stuck one fingertip in her pouting mouth and raised one leg in a coy pose while making sure to stick out her tits and ass. After a few seconds she switched to a more confident pose; hands on her hips with her shoulders back, tits thrust forward obscenely.
“Oh wait!” she quickly pinched and twisted her nipples through the semi-sheer pink tank top to make sure they stood out more through her clothes. Guys like it when girls do that, she’d learned. She went back to the boobie pose with nipples sufficiently erect. She switched to a sensual pose where she closed her eyes and raked her hands through her hair. But she couldn’t help but think that she could get some better pictures for the nice men if she had an object to play with, like a lollipop or… oh! Or another girl!
She quickly scanned the line of people before her glassy eyes set their sights on a cute Persian-looking girl with 32D tits. Bailee giggled for a moment; she may be have been dumb, but at least she wasn’t dumb enough to have small tits!
“Hey, 32D! Come over here and make out with me for some pictures!”
The girl glanced down at her chest and then back at Bailee. “Wait, how did you know?”
Bailee just giggled in response. Geez this little slut was stupid. How would she ever get guys if she didn’t know how to rank and compare girls. Men do it all the time automatically, so Bailee made sure she was constantly aware of how she ranked compared to all the girls around her. She was currently number one, and she was giving the 32D girl a chance to be second, only the little ditz was just standing there.
Bailee sighed, she was a 32J, so she was obviously the girl in-charge around here. She grabbed the tan little dummy and shoved her tongue down her throat. She seemed surprised but didn’t seem to object. 32D actually started getting into it once Bailee took one of her hands and stuffed it under the pink tank top so that she could have a chance to see what real boobs feel like.
Bailee wasn’t into girls that much, but what she was into was doing anything to get attention from men. They really liked it when girls made out with each other or licked each others kitties. In fact, Bailee was pretty sure that the whole “lesbian” thing was just a trick to get boys to pay attention to them.
The little Persian girl was starting to make these sensual little moaning noises; at least she wasn’t a prude. Bailee was glad, she hated prudes! She remembered that guys really like pictures of girls licking each others pussies or buttholes, and it was her job to make guys happy. So she squatted down, making sure to spread her legs so everyone could see how good a job she did shaving while she pulled up 32D’s skirt, but she gasped when she saw what was underneath.
“Oh my god! You’re wearing panties?!? Gross!” Bailee always thought panties were really dumb. What’s the point of even wearing a dress if you’re just going to cover up your holes anyway! And besides, everybody knows that pussies need to be uncovered to be healthy. That’s why it’s always best for girls to wear the shortest skirt possible and always sit with their legs open.
After she got over the initial aversion, she started feeling sorry for the girl. Obviously all girls want guys to put their dicks inside them, but the flat-chested little ditz was too dumb to know how. Bailee decided to help by yanking the girl’s panties to her ankles. She made a little noise of objection, but didn’t end up resisting. She just got this really embarrassed smile while everybody took pictures of her little mocha-colored pussy. Bailee had her step out of the underwear, which was a pain. Imagine if this girl had to do all that while a nice man was waiting to put his cock in her butt, she thought.
She held the garment at arms length as if she was holding a dirty rag and walked over to drop it in the gutter. When she turned back, 32D was covering her face in this giggley embarrassed way. That was good! Boys seem to get super turned on when girls are embarrassed. Bailee went back over and squatted down to stick out her tongue as far as she could and licked at the girl’s bare pussy gingerly. The light-brown girl had her pubic hair shaved into a little heart, which Bailee liked. At least she prepared to have her kitty on display. She tried to stay facing forward so everybody could get both of their naked crotches in the picture. Bailee really only flicked the girls clit with the tip of her tongue. It was more important that all the nice men get sexy pictures than it was to actually pleasure the panty-wearing dummy.
32D seemed to get relaxed a bit after that. She even took the lead and posed for pictures with Bailee’s giant boobs; pulling her little tube-top up, holding the firm-pink orbs with her little hands, even pinching and pulling her nipples. She had to admit, as dumb as this girl might be when it comes to getting cock, she could have been a lot worse!
After a few minutes, 32D introduced Bailee to her boyfriend. He looked Persian, too. Also, he dressed like he had a lot of money. He offered to pay Bailee’s way into the club so that she could hang out and have fun with them all night.
He was even nice enough to buy her a drink and he put this special vitamin in it that he said would keep Bailee from getting a hangover the next day. She must have drank a lot, because she didn’t really remember much of what happened after that. Later that night, she had a vague sense of being in a hotel room while a bunch of really awesome guys took turns having sex with her. That made her happy. She also thought she heard the nice Persian man talking with one of the men about money. Geez! What a workaholic! Who talks business while a girl is trying to get lucky!
Bailee woke up the next day to find herself laying in a bed in a hospital room. This cute young Indian doctor with a boyish look noticed she was awake and came over to her. He paused for a moment, seeming a bit flustered.
“Hello, Bailee. How are you feeling?” he started with this super hot English accent.
“Ummm, I dunno. I think I had, like, a super fun and good night last night. I kinda remember getting to do like, a lot of sex, and I got to give a bunch of guys blowjobs.” she paused to think for a moment, “Oh, hey! Do you want a blowjob? You’re totally, like, super cute.”
He seemed a bit flustered, “Umm, no. That’s quite all right. The police found you passed out on the couch of a hotel lobby. You… didn’t have any clothes on. They brought you here to make sure you were okay. We learned that you had a rather substantial dose of Rohypnol in your system. Do you have any reason to believe that anything happened last night that you didn’t agree to?”
Bailee shook her head, “uh uh, I think I had a really fun night.” she said before giggling. As she was answering, this hot older woman with silver hair and a lab coat came in. Bailee thought it was silly the way she was dressed. She might be middle-aged, but she still had a good body. Maybe her and Bailee could go out and pretend to be mother and daughter to pick up boys! Guys were totally into that sort of thing.
The older lady leaned over to the cute boy doctor and whispered something to him. She said something about Bailee’s “fee-an-say,” which Bailee figured was a fancy doctor word she didn’t know. And she said something about how Bailee hasn’t been the same since.
Suddenly it occurred to Bailee that hospitals were really sad and totally not fun and that she didn’t want to be in one anymore. So she put on her heels and told them that she was going to go home now. They said some doctory stuff and made her write her name on this really boring paper, but at least they let her keep the cute gown that let everybody see her butt. She could totally use that for costume parties or sexy roleplay. Maybe she could even go out and tell everybody that she has a disease where she needs cum to survive. Yeah! That’d be perfect! After all, guys could be super gullible when it comes to sex. They’ll fall for anything when they’re horny! She was sure glad that she wasn’t like that.
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Bimbo Bailee (Chapter 1, part 1 repost)
Bimbo Bailee (Chapter 1, part 1)
(Part of the Pervert Pentet Series. Content warning: subtext of tragic loss)
She woke up in a daze. How long had it been since she’d been in control of her own mind? The trance was lasting longer each time, how long until it’d be permanent? The thought of being… her… forever made her heart race with fear. But it was also something she found incredibly erotic.
She never would have started dating Mark if the thought of mind control wasn’t so incredibly arousing to her. It started with minor things, she’d find she wasn’t wearing underwear in the middle of the day despite clearly remembering putting it on in the morning. She wasn’t sure if the memory was false or if she’d removed them at some point in the day while in a hypnotic trance. She kept pushing for more, the idea of giving up control over her most valuable asset, her conscious mind, thrilled her more than anything else could.
In her youth, her parents had always pushed her to work hard and be smart, but it was never enough. Even when she graduated high school as Valedictorian at age 17, all they wanted to know was what she planned for college. At age 24, she graduated with a doctorate in neurology. She began dating Mark after she’d interviewed while she’d been completing her thesis on the effect of external stimuli on the long-term functioning of the mind. He was a hypnotist who claimed that with enough time, he could turn a person into someone completely different. They often debated, with her claiming that what he said was impossible. No matter what, she argued, there would always be certain core personality traits that would be innate, either because they developed in the formative years or because they were genetically determined.
She began submitting to things she thought of as “experiments” with him. The first few times she felt the influence of his “mind control” she was fascinated. To be able to experience something like this first hand! It was invigorating as a researcher. At least that’s what she told herself in the beginning.
Over time, she became more and more addicted to the idea of leaving her mind in the hands of another. He went from being her boyfriend to becoming her Master. And their “experiments” had taken on a more intense and erotic tone as well. He created this other persona that he could snap her into any time he wished. It was so liberating, the other her was so… happy, carefree. It was as if she could have a respite from the cacophony of thoughts and considerations she grew up being taught was expected of her as an intellectual. She was never happier than when she was with him; and despite knowing every neurochemical reaction that came with being in love, a part of her felt like she’d found her soul-mate.
Eventually they went on a trip together to an isolated cabin, someplace they could do some of the more daring things they’d been wanting to try without fear of her being embarrassed by interactions with other people.
She remembered they did something… daring. Foolish, even. She couldn’t remember exactly what it was at the moment. She flexed a cognitive power that felt like it hadn’t been flexed in quite some time and tried to remember. There was a distinct recollection that her Master was the only one that could release her from the trance once it was activated. But there was something else… something even more reckless she’d asked him to do, to program into her ever-more-pliable mind. What was it?
Her heart sank as she remembered how the trip ended. Her Master had been taking a walk outside the cabin and had slipped on some of the autumn leaves, breaking his skull on a sharp branch jutting from a tree-trunk. She reasoned that the trauma must be why she was having trouble remembering. A sickening hollowness began to form within her the more she thought about him. Her mind instinctively reviewed all the neurological changes that could occur in response to the loss of a loved one. Yet the memory felt distant, like enough time had passed that she shouldn’t feel as bad as she did. She just couldn’t remember what had happened in the interim.
She looked around the room and found that it seemed foreign to her. The layout was definitely her and her late Master’s house, but the decor looked more like it had been done by a middle-school cheerleader, and a slutty one at that, judging by the small, brightly colored clothing strewn haphazardly about.
She took a step out of bed and was immediately floored by a lightning bolt of pain that shot up her Achilles tendon the moment she tried to stand up.
“AAAHH!!!” The pain turned to a slow throb after several seconds, and she tried to examine her feet. She determined that her range of plantar flexion, pointing her toes, was a bit greater than it had been before. But dorsiflexion was severely limited, she couldn’t bring her foot flat enough to take a step. It was as if her Achilles tendon had shortened somehow, as if she’d been wearing high-heels every waking moment for… months? Longer? She couldn’t be sure.
She noticed a pair of hot-pink heels near where she fell and naturally assumed that they were there for the purpose of allowing her to walk. She strapped herself into them and climbed to her feet. The throbbing in her heel had mostly diminished, and she found herself to have an inexplicable ease when she tried to ambulate in the four-inch heels. She rushed to the bathroom mirror; she had to see herself, as much as the thought terrified her.
When she saw her reflection, it took her a moment to believe that she wasn’t looking at an obscene poster of some comic-book bimbo that had been rendered to look realistic.
Her short brown hair had been dyed blonde, and tied up in loose pigtails that hung from the top of her head down her back. By her estimation, her hair terminated just above the sacroiliac joint just superior of her tailbone. She frantically brushed her fingers through the long, platinum locks. Surely these are hair extensions. She couldn’t possibly have lost that much time in her trance-state. This was over a year of growth. Way over.
And her breasts! They didn’t even really look like hers anymore. She’d gotten implants soon after she began dating her Master, as he had a thing for the bimbo look. She figured she could go up to just barely a DD and still seem like a respected professional so long as she didn’t dress to show them off. But it looked like they’d been enlarged at least twice since then. She couldn’t even guess at their current size
It had just popped into her head, but deep down there was a sense that it was a point of pride for her. The other her. Her lips appeared inflated as well, to a size that would be considered a good bit more than just pillowy.
After the shock wore off, she had to admit, she liked the way she looked. Mark would have loved to see her looking like this. It seemed she’d overcome her habit of stress-eating, and found the time to go to the gym. At least based on the fit, lightly tanned body that appeared to serve mostly as a transportation system for her firm, basketball sized tits.
She took a few deep breaths, trying to determine if this was all a dream or some kind of delusion. She’d tranced out before since her Master’s death, but never for more than a few days. And for the life of her, she couldn’t recall what triggered it. Needless to say, she’d never stayed in her trance state for this long.
Another memory suddenly popped into her head from that terrible night. Something she’d asked for to ensure that they keep pushing things further and further. He had programmed her so that every subsequent trance had to last longer than the previous one.
Shit!!! She thought frantically, They were supposed to be longer by hours, maybe a day or two at most! This wasn’t supposed to last for months. Not… years.
She’d only pushed him to do those things because she knew in the back of her mind that they’d be temporary. He was responsible, and if things got out of hand, he could undo the programming. Unfortunately, that was no longer an option. She still got a sense that there was something else she was missing. Something big. The trigger! That’s it, she’d just have to avoid the trigger phrase! Now what was it? She couldn’t remember! That’s okay, she would just need to avoid interacting with anything until she figured it out. Don’t go outside, don’t talk to anyone, don’t turn on the tv. You don’t want to get accidentally triggered and wake up years from now with even bigger tits.
She tried to steel her resolve when she heard a sound from the other room. An electronic beep and a tinny voice beginning to talk. The answering machine!!! Her master had been her senior by a few decades, and his house still had a landline and an old-style answering machine. She rushed out frantically to try to turn it off. The person on the line explained that they were from her old college and explained that they were calling for…
That was it… The trigger! The impossibly stupid thing they had done in the cabin that night in the woods. They made the trigger phrase… her own name.
“-University and we’re looking to contact Dr. Bailee Holcum.” She tore the machine out of the wall, but it was too late, she could feel the fog setting in…
She looked down at the broken machine on the floor with puzzlement. “Well uhh, that’s like, what you get for saying stuff that’s, like, totally boring, Mr. Answering Machine.”
There was a phrase she noticed echoing through the cavernous space of her mind. She said it aloud to try to work out the puzzle. “Bailee… Holcum? Bailee… hole… cum? Oh!! Bailee’s holes need cum! Duh! I need to get dressed so I can go out and get laid! That’s like, totally super important. No wonder I was thinking that!”
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Last day of the Pervert Pentet reposts. Today I’ll be doing Bimbo Bailee and Sharking Sherry. The images above are from my recent Sims 4 game, that actually allows an impressive enough amount of character customization that I can functionally make cheap illustrations of my original characters without too much effort (though I did admittedly work on a bit of a boob-morph with Bailee, the game doesn’t allow boobs that big).
As an update on the next section of “First Day of School,” I have the illustration finished, and I just need to polish the actual writing. If that goes well, I may be posting that in the next few hours, but almost certainly in the next day.
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Torture-Lover Teira (Chapter 1 , repost
Part of the Pervert Pentet Series
(Content warning and author’s notes: So I mentioned previously that this story wasn’t so good in it’s first iteration, I gave it a pretty significant re-write and, while Teira is a difficult character to write, I think I managed to do a decent job of making it at least acceptably good.
As for content this story is HEAVY on torture and does contain a snuff scene. As with most of the stories in the Pervert Pentet series, I want to remind you that you shouldn’t do anything that any of my characters do or attempt, but I want to ESPECIALLY emphasize it in this story, A few of the things I describe Teira surviving would have a moderate to high chance of being fatal in real life. This character’s ability to endure and survive torture is unrealistic in the real world. Do not do any of these things in real life…Seriously.)
Goddess Johanna’s heart fluttered in excitement as she stood across from Teira. Finally, she thought, after all these years, someone worthy of me.
Her mind flashed back over the lifetime of unsatisfied sadism. The time she’d spent in mental institutions and jail cells after carving her name in the flesh of her lovers. The dungeons that had blacklisted her as a dominatrix after one too many visits from an ambulance or a lawyer. None of them understood. They couldn’t understand what she’d always known about herself. That she was a goddess among vermin, and that her divinity demanded an offering of pain, a sacrifice of the flesh.
When she learned of the performance artist Teira Volks, she felt as though she’d discovered a mirror of herself, another real being who was above the nameless, faceless drones unworthy of even kissing the ground upon which she walked. A divine masochist making offerings of pain into the void; obviously hoping that a divine sadist like Johanna could come and put an end to her loneliness. She spent the next few months trying to get in contact with her. Explained who she was, detailed the things she had done, things that only another like her could understand. She was frustrated having to go through intermediaries; had the world been just she’d have made them flush their cocks down the toilet and thank her showing them how lowly they are.
But finally… finally, she was told she would meet with Teira herself. And not only that, but Teira was willing to offer her body upon the very first meeting. It was explained that the artist was looking for something, for someone, and that she was willing to allow Johanna to inflict any torment upon her on the chance that she was the one the artist had been seeking.
Like Johanna, Teira was German-born, but famous throughout Europe’s art scene, her recognition quickly growing throughout the world art community. She specialized in suffering, using her body as the medium through which she displayed her work. Johanna had first learned of Teira after an exhibition called “Concentration.” She had rented a small abandoned factory for the project, and performed hard labor nearly every waking hour, denying herself food, medicine, or rest. She lived a life as near to the victims of the WW2 concentration camps as she could manage. Inexplicably managing to push herself to the point of starvation and near-fatal sickness with no outside motivation to do so. In fact, many pleaded with her to stop, but she was indifferent to the outside world, even as they walked in and around the factory. She permitted freedom of movement to the audience, they could get as close as they liked to her. They could hear every agonized pant, could smell the blisters on her feet that had turned to festering sores. She had been indifferent to the audience, as if they were in a different world, even when they went so far as to touch her distended ribs. She had moved like a woman entranced, unnoticing of every pain and molestation. The only thing the audience wasn’t allowed to do was to interfere with her self-imposed suffering, the security team she hired saw to that. At some point, recording devices were no longer permitted in her vicinity. A few weeks after that, local authorities stormed the exhibition and forced Teira to stop. Her security team was arrested, and she was taken to a hospital where it was found that starvation, exhaustion, and infection were all racing to see which would kill her first. Images of her from that day circulated throughout the art world and far beyond; the artist who pushed herself, slowly, agonizingly, to the precipice of death. She became synonymous with the art of suffering.
And here she is, Johanna thought as she stood across the room from her. For a moment a troubling thought popped into her head. What if I was wrong? What if she isn’t worthy of me? What if she’s like the others, and she’ll be sniveling and begging me to stop five minutes from now?
She looked at the woman inquiringly, and to her relief, found that there was something about her that was unlike anyone she’d ever met. The thing she most noticed about Teira Volks was that something about her face made her look…severe.
The second thing she noticed is that she couldn’t tell exactly why it looked severe. Was it her features? No, in fact her facial features were quite pleasantly rounded. Perhaps her hair? No, while the short blonde Cleopatra cut was so neatly styled that it made her look almost robotic, it wasn’t responsible for the air of malice. The scars, perhaps! They had been so well mended she hardly noticed them at first examination. Thin, white dots and dashes, and the occasional slash written across her face like the ghosts of old wounds. The sheer number and variety was unsettling, but it wasn’t that either.
She realized at last… it was the eyes. A cobalt blue that didn’t merely pierce but stabbed like a frosted iron blade. It was as if those eyes knew that nightmares were reality, and the waking world was actually the dream.
She breathed in and swallowed as she met the woman’s gaze. Despite the mild temperature of the room, she felt almost certain that she would see her breath freeze in the air as she exhaled. Fortunately for Johanna, no such thing happened. The dominatrix briefly humored the idea that she might actually feel intimidated by Teira, but assured herself that it was just the unfamiliarity of being in the presence of another person of such power.
She stood in the middle of the brightly-lit bare room facing the almost impossibly confident masochist. Teira stood silently across from her. For a long time there was an awkward silence while the scar-faced woman seemed to be staring quietly into Johanna’s soul. She began to unbutton the black, double-breasted leather coat she wore.
“Shall we begin?
Johanna swallowed before nodding; she hoped her excitement wouldn’t make the artist think less of her. She chastised herself for even having such a thought. She watched as Teira’s coat fell in pile at her feet. Her slightly pudgy, yet still petite body was bare before her. She looked down at the coat, and the feet that stood in front of it on the hardwood floor. Two toes missing on her right foot. A few other scarred nail beds were apparent; three toes on her left foot were covered with scabs where the nails should have been, the result of recently being pried off carelessly, if Johanna were to guess. She glanced up to Teira’s hands; the last three digits of her right hand didn’t even have a hint of nails left, seemingly peeled off too many times to have regrown. Her pinky seemed slightly gnarled, as through repeatedly broken and reset. She had all ten fingers, at least.
The rest of her body wasn’t much different. Wounds in various stages of healing, some clean and surgical, others ragged. Beneath the very slight pudge of her mid-section her cunt was so marked with small keloids it almost looked as though someone had scribbled on it with a pale red marker. Her small-ish, slightly deflated looking breasts weren’t much better, with one of her nipples looking as though it might have been removed completely and remade surgically.
Johanna’s body was tingling, like a performer about to go on stage, so much so that she jumped slightly at the sound of the large trunk being dropped on the floor behind her. She spun around quickly to see Teira’s… attendant? Assistant? The large craggy-faced man named Heinrich who looked like the lead henchman in some American action film. Johanna had told him he’d need a dolly, or perhaps a second strong man to haul her trunk of sadistic toys up the stairs. Apparently, she’d been wrong.
Most of her direct interactions so far had been with Heinrich, and only by text, but that didn’t make her any more comfortable with him. What did make her comfortable was the agreement that was made. “No limits.” That’s what was agreed upon. There was no restriction on what she could to do Teira. Heinrich lingered briefly before stepping just outside the door and closing it behind him. He was the kind of man that would instantly set off alarms in the brain of any person with the slightest sense of self-preservation, yet Teira’s sense of ease didn’t seem diminished around him at all. Around either of them, despite the fact that she stood naked, waiting to be tortured.
She decided to turn her attention on Teira, and her anticipation into action. Johanna sensually glided over to the trunk and opened it decisively. Her fingers curled around a black wooden truncheon. Memories of their time together came flooding back, of kneecaps cracked and fingers broken, even a tailbone or two shattered.
The raven-haired woman placed the weapon on a large table, the only furnishing of the peculiar room. Her mind briefly considered the oddness of the space around her. Hardwood floors, and four white walls, seemingly freshly painted. Despite being in a residential building, it wasn’t an apartment. Just a plain, enclosed cube with harsh overhead lighting.
She continued unloading various implements of suffering carefully onto the table. A hammer and a box of nails specially made with extra large heads. An insertable that Johanna called “The Devil’s Cock.” A black single-tail whip. A large jug of vinegar coupled with a dirty rag. There was much more in the trunk, but Johanna decided to hold off for now, especially as some of her ‘toys’ required electricity, and there didn’t appear to be any outlets in the room.
It was time to begin; she could almost hear the praise she anticipated from her victim. Telling her that she truly was the goddess she believed herself to be, that she was the sadist Teira had searched her whole life for, that things would be different now that they were together. Johanna’s red-nailed fingertips clutched the harsh bludgeoning club as strode confidently to be face to face with her victim. Teira was five foot two at most, and in heels, Johanna was nearly a foot taller than her. The petite artist looked up expectantly; her calm, chilling eyes sent another spark of ice down Johanna’s spine. She clenched her teeth, a part of her hated how aloof she seemed; but at the same time, she relished the idea of pouring every ounce of hate and rage into her flesh.
She wound up with the truncheon and there was a fleshy CRACK as the wood made contact with Teira’s mouth, blood and teeth shot across the room. She took a step back coughing. That’s right, bitch! Eat your goddamn teeth!
But she was still standing, she still had her composure. She wanted Teira to be a crying puddle on the floor, she wanted to see those icy eyes filled with tears and desperation; praising her for bringing her to a place of despair no one ever has before. She wound up again and cracked her on the collarbone. A couple more times in the ribs, and finally a full-force blow to her right knee. The last one finally brought her to the floor.
It was a beautiful sight to Johanna, the great artist on the ground before her. Blood pouring from her split lips and shattered teeth. “Stay down!” she barked as she returned to her table to trade out the truncheon for a hammer and nails.
She knelt when she returned, her hand darted out to seize Teira’s foot. She expected it to be pulled away, but the woman made no effort to do so. She simply sat, staring at her with what looked like keen interest. Johanna pressed the outside of Teira’s foot against the hardwood floor and positioned a large nail just in front of her Achilles tendon. She expected to hear a scream when the hammer drove the metal spike through her flesh, but was rewarded instead with a sharp hiss as one makes from a paper-cut.
I will break this cunt! The vow was almost unconscious as she continued her work. A few more strikes secured one leg to the floor. She took a second nail and spread her victim’s legs obscenely wide before fixing the other limb in place with the metal spike pounded in just behind the ankle-joint. If anything, her reaction to the pain was less this time.
She stood, before driving the heel of her stiletto boot harshly into Teira’s sternum, kicking the sitting form onto her back. She gasped for breath as Johanna took a step to stand with full force on the inside of her arm, crushing the slightly loose skin of her tricep beneath her pointed heel. As she squatted down, the twisting of her boot was enough to draw blood. She didn’t care, her focus was to place a nail dead-center in her palm and crucify the masochist to the floor. She did the other hand to match and took a step back to look at her handiwork. Small puddles of blood beneath the end of each bound limb, her knee and ribs were turning a lovely shade of brutalized violet-black, devastated mouth still dripping with scarlet, but the eyes… those fucking eyes staring back at her. Calm, no tears, no pleading for mercy; just a girl mindfully observing the mutilation of her own body.
Johanna’s teeth clenched as she carefully picked up the implement she affectionately referred to as “The Devil’s Cock.” A fourteen inch wooden phallus that had been covered in hundreds of tacks and then wrapped in red leather so that the points formed a cactus-like array of metal barbs. It had a girth nearly as thick as her fist. This beast alone had landed some of her previous submissive’s in the hospital.
She lined it up with the blonde woman’s cunt and, knowing it was too big and too rough to force into her by conventional means, whacked the base of it with the hammer. Beads of blood immediately began streaming down over her asshole onto the wooden floor beneath. Johanna was tempted to look up, hoping to see Teira’s face contorted into agony, but was afraid of seeming too hungry for a response. She continued hammering the sadistic phallus into Teira’s most tender area. The only sound was the clack of hammer on wood echoing through the spartan room. Not a scream, not a whimper, not even a gasp this time. She felt more like a fucking carpenter than a dominatrix.
The sadist stood up, in her periphery she could still see Teira’s face. Serene as a goddamned Buddhist monk! She threw the hammer down angrily, and gripped the single-tail. Johanna had always been the type to push limits, to do the things she wasn’t ‘supposed’ to do. Her eyes glanced over the parts of Teira’s body that lesser sadists considered appropriate for whipping, eventually landing on a clear spot of skin just above the split lip and shattered teeth. She wound up… CRACK! The sound echoed through the small room as a welt appeared across Teira’s cheek, beads of blood formed seconds later and began to slowly make a crimson line down toward her ear. She wound up again, carefully watching for a response… CRACK! This time the whip drew blood instantly, as a small diagonal gash appeared on the bridge of her nose. Yet there was no response, she didn’t even blink when the whip made contact! She simply looked… unimpressed. Johanna’s gut felt caught in a vice, she’d never had the experience of a masochist who was too much for her. No, she thought to herself as she dropped the whip and grabbed the vinegar jug and rag, That’s not what this is, she’s pretending, she’s testing me. She’s on the edge of breaking, she must be. I will be the one. I will be the one to break Teira Volks, and that will prove that I am the only one worthy of her submission. It’ll prove that I’m not just a ‘psycho bitch.’ She’ll understand my greatness! She’ll make others understand! No one has ever understood! They’ve never understood how far beneath me they all are! Something I do will break her. Something I do will! break! her!
“Even you need to breathe, Teira Volks.” She growled quietly to herself as she pressed the filthy rag over her face. She popped open the plastic cap of the jug of vinegar and turned it slowly. She had plenty of experience waterboarding smart-assed masochists who thought they could handle anything. Using vinegar added an element of agony that had never failed to make her victims either lose their mind or beg for freedom. She was pleased to see the pale, naked torso of Teira thrashing almost as soon as she began pouring. Johanna slowly counted twenty seconds before she stopped and took the rag away. Teira coughed and spat for a long time, trying to expel the caustic liquid from her lungs. The dominatrix was satisfied that things were turning in her favor. She finally took a few ragged breaths, at which point Johanna threw the rag back over her face and started again. She observed the naked girl trying to flail, but bound to the floor by thick metal spikes. The extra-wide heads of the nails ensured she couldn’t rip her flesh free. She counted twenty seconds again before pulling off the wet rag, any longer and she’d need immediate medical care to keep her from dying. Even twenty seconds was pushing it.
It was well over a minute before Teira was able to take a breath again. Her eyes were bloodshot and her body thrashed desperately for oxygen.
One more time… then I’ll give her a chance to beg, a chance to tell me that I’m the one she’s been searching for. For a third time, Johanna threw the rag over Teira’s face and poured the acidic liquid down her nose and throat. Her thrashing this time was so violent that she managed to yank free the nail that skewered her left hand. Johanna wrestled it to the ground as she continued pouring, the metal still impaling the flesh of the now liberated limb.
Finally, the third pour was finished. She yanked the rag off her face and slammed the vinegar jug down next to her. She stood up and folded her arms with a menacing scowl. She waited for the inevitable tears, the satisfaction of hearing the screaming pleas for mercy she expected to come any moment.
She watched the sputtering wet coughs that actually contained blood now. Her face was a mess of spit and snot and tears. Her breathing turned to desperate gasps as she used her free left hand to wipe the mess from her face. Her breathing turned to ragged wheezing, and then suddenly she was silent. Calm. Her frost colored eyes looked up at Johanna’s.
No, no, NO! She screamed internally, I’m a fucking goddess!!! I’m a nightmare to masochistic little cunts like her!!! She’s not okay! This can’t be! This is impossible!
Two words from Teira’s bloodied mouth was all it took. So nonchalant; Johanna realized that she was powerless in the face of someone like this. The creature bound to the floor beneath her was a god of suffering, and her offering to the deity just wasn’t enough. She… wasn’t enough.
Johanna screamed in frustration, and for a moment considered throwing herself down upon her victim and using her bare fists to unleash her rage upon the woman who’d broken her, but she realized it’d only make her feel more powerless. Teira Volks had no more concern over her own flesh than a butcher did to an animal carcass. She turned away in shame and dropped to her knees in tears. She felt as though her soul itself had been gutted. Her identity, her pride, her ego, it came crashing down around her.
The pain in her psyche was so deep she didn’t even notice Teira systematically working the other three nails free. Nor did she notice the broken body limping decisively over to the trunk and picking up the smallest item, a box of razor blades. Johanna did notice when the single razor blade Teira removed swiftly bit deeply into the flesh at the back of her neck twice in rapid succession. She turned and attempted to push the woman away, but found her left arm to be quite paralyzed. Teira grabbed her roughly with bleeding hands and there were another pair of skillful cuts on the other side.
Johanna tried to stand up but stumbled forward on powerless arms. Johanna’s heart sank when she realized what had happened. Oh my god… She severed the motor nerves from my spine!
Adrenaline uselessly pumped through Johanna’s body while Teira pinned her and made another series of quick slices in her lower back. Her legs went limp. She wanted to fight back! She wanted to run! But every signal from her brain to her extremities now dead-ended a few centimeters from her spinal cord.
Teira stood and caught her breath. The damage to her body made her stance unsteady and her lungs rattled, but her maddeningly calm resolve was strong as ever. A few moments later she flipped Johanna onto her back to see wide, tearful eyes looking up at her in mortal terror. “Please, Teira!!! Don’t do this to me! Please!!!”
There was a brief pause as the the dominatrix realized her pleas were hopeless. “You are not what I am looking for.” She said in a dry, matter-of-fact tone, yet there was a hint of sorrow in her words.
Teira knelt between the terrified woman’s legs, trying to be careful not to agitate her own body’s wounds. She unzipped Johanna’s black leather pencil skirt and set it aside. She used the razor to snip the sides of her white, lace panties and placed them gently atop the skirt. For a moment she appeared to be contemplating the slightly overgrown rectangle of curly black hair that adorned Johanna’s pubic mound.
That was when the razor met flesh. Johanna began screaming as soon as Teira made the first incision across the top of the pubic hair. She made two more slits down from the edges and began to peel; using the edge of the razor to shave the skin from the deeper flesh. Teira’s eyebrows pulled together in focus, she’d need to take her time to do this right, especially with the wounds in her hands impairing her dexterity.
A few agonizing minutes later Teira had a still-attached flap of partially flayed skin embellished with Johanna’s pubic hair down to the top of her clit. She continued the vertical slits down either side of her vulva and began to separate the woman’s clitoris from the inside. It was tedious work, cleanly peeling a woman’s vulva off. One could easily be distracted by the shrieks of “OH GOD!!! PLEASE STOP!!! PLEEEEASE!!!” But Teira was not easily distracted. She felt a passing moment of satisfaction as she reached the perineum, having cleanly separated this woman’s external genitalia from the internal. She’d need to turn her over for the rest.
Re-positioning herself, she pushed the larger woman onto her belly with a grunt, and then returned to her work between Johanna’s legs. She began at the top of her posterior cleft with a horizontal incision, and again repeated the process of two vertical slits. Teira did as she had on the front of her body, peeling off the skin of her asscrack in a strip perhaps two inches wide. Thankfully, Johanna seemed to have ruptured her larynx from screaming, so Teira could perform her careful work without the risk of distraction. She would need to be careful when she reached the anus. Orifices were difficult to flay. Especially if one intended to preserve the cleanly peeled strip of skin. She stretched and cut across each fold of the anus, separating the skin from the muscle of her sphincter. The razor was beginning to dull, but fortunately, Teira was almost finished.
A final cut to join the strips in the middle and it was complete. A single long strip of skin, roughly the size and shape of a small clip-on necktie; the ‘knot’ formed by the triangular portion created by Johanna’s pubic mound, beneath which was a long, slender rectangle which contained the dominatrix’s disembodied vulva and anus.
Teira reverently laid the trophy on the floor just above Johanna’s head and laid down next to her. She curled up with her as if drifting off to sleep next to a lover. In a final, horrible act of cruelty, she casually used the razor to make a small nick in the side of Johanna’s trachea. Blood trickled into her lungs with agonizing slowness as Teira drifted off to sleep next to her dying victim.
A razor. Johanna thought a few minutes later at the end of her life. She turned my world into Hell with a single razor blade.
The next morning, Teira awoke in a pool of blood next to the pale corpse of Johanna. She saw that Heinrich had returned with a pair of large suitcases. He tossed one in her general direction. She struggled to her feet, her battered and bloodied body made any movement agony, as did the spiked dildo still embedded in her vagina, but she was never one to be overcome by something as mediocre as physical pain. She opened the case and put on the black rubber apron before pulling out the bonesaw and turning to Johanna’s remains. Heinrich was similarly attired. There would be a lot of work to do; disposing of the meat that was once Johanna would be the priority, but the bulk of the labor would be taking down the sound-proofed false walls and floor they’d installed in the apartment. She turned to her long-time partner.
“Shall we begin?”
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Non-consent Nancy (part 2, repost)
(Technically this is part 3, I just posted part 1 and 2 as a single post)
CONTENT WARNING: This story focuses on a lesbian black woman who fetishizes rape, misogyny, racism, and abuse. This section briefly checks in with her recently raped Jewish friend, but the bulk of this section will focus on Nancy violently abusing and raping a young (as in still anatomically feminine) female-to-male trans-gendered person.
And if you happen to be the type of person who might feel bad about getting off to a hate-crime (or you’re just a decent person who enjoys indecent erotica), consider donating to Trans Lifeline at translifeline.org
(Part of the Pervert Pentet Series)
Chapter 1, part 3
Nancy got a warm, fuzzy feeling when a mutual friend texted her saying that Hannah had been attacked and was presently being treated for her injuries at the hospital. She rushed out the door, eager to see the damage inflicted on her close friend.
She headed to a room on the second floor after a brief consultation with the hospital receptionist, Entering, she saw Hannah sitting in the bed; her spirit broken and so was her beak-like nose. The normally large protrusion that jutted from the center of her face was now swollen to even more ridiculous proportions. Nancy couldn’t help but let a laugh escape from her throat, but quickly stifled it, putting her hands to her face and passing it off as a cry of horror.
Hoping to add to her pain just a little bit more, Nancy rushed to her side and flung her arms around the little kike, squeezing her face tightly against her large breasts. She twitched and pulled away, obviously in pain.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I should have realized you’re not really touchable.” Nancy was proud that even now, she could drop subtle, subconscious jabs showing how repellent she thought Hannah was. “What happened, Hannah??”
“Somebody posted my pictures online. The ones I sent to you.” Her voice was even more whiny than normal; she sat hunched, staring down at her knees. “I don’t know how they got them, but they were giving out my address, too!” She began to weep. “Someone was pretending to be me, saying that I wanted to be… That I wanted this to happen. What’d I do, Nancy? I never did anything to anybody that would make them want to hurt me like this!” The sobs escalated to an ugly bawling.
Nancy sat, pulling her face into an expression of concern. She handed a tissue box to Hannah. “People will hate you no matter what you do. Some people just get off on hurting the weak. There’s not much you can do about that fact.”
Everyone hates you, you’re weak, you should give up hope; Somehow Nancy had managed to word those sentiments as though they were aimed to comfort.
After a few more moments of Hannah wiping the tears from her twisted, squealing Jew face, she turned back to Nancy, “I really appreciate you being here for me.”
“Of course! You’re one of my best friends. If you ever need to talk about what happened, I want you to know that I’m here for you, day or night.”
The two women spoke a few minutes longer, until Nancy elected to leave to make room for Hannah’s family, who had just arrived. She certainly didn’t want to get trapped in a room reeking so strongly of kikes.
She attended classes until late afternoon, at which time she popped over to her apartment to pick up the spy-cameras she’d had overnighted, then went back to the rape-crisis center hoping that Darla would return. She didn’t, but at least Nancy got some practice secretly surveilling some of the girls that came in.
That evening, she began to feel antsy. After all the delights she’d had the luck to witness in the last few days, she was starting to feel restless. She needed someone to rape.
She had a dating app in her phone that she’d set up under a fake name. She scanned through the few women who’d messaged or admired her, none of them were especially appealing. She decided to look at the males, thinking that maybe she could rape-bait one of them into assaulting her; it wasn’t exactly what she wanted, but then again, the wants of a man, especially a would-be rapist, would always surmount hers.
That’s when she saw it. A little cuntboy who called itself Angelo. If this thing thought it passed for male, it was sorely mistaken. She scanned the confused dyke’s profile and found the term “f2m” hidden at the bottom. Based on the message she’d sent Nancy, it seemed the desperate little twat was a little girl-crazy.
Nancy had a plan. She wrote back to Angelo, saying how handsome ‘he’ was, and how she’d love for them to get together soon.
The next evening, Nancy made her way to the restaurant that Angelo had picked out for them. The tranny cuntboy was already waiting on a bench out front. It sheepishly stood and introduced itself with a voice awkwardly forced into a lower register, then gave a quick, awkward hug before beckoning Nancy to join it inside.
A few inches shorter than Nancy’s statuesque frame, dirty blond hair cut short and neatly parted at the side, freckled cheeks beneath green eyes, and rather stylishly dressed; a white button-down shirt whose top two buttons were flirtatiously undone beneath a charcoal suit that actually managed to fit over the freak’s boyish frame. Angelo was just her type, not that Nancy would admit to the attraction.
Nancy had leaned into her femme side. A short, flowy, scarlet dress adorned her dark-chocolate skin, accessorized with a layered gold necklace and a druzy ring carved from a single piece of amethyst.
Angelo seemed eager to please, though just slightly on the timid side. Nancy laughed at “his” jokes, touched “his” hand from across the table, and looked down with a demure smile each time their eye contact lingered. She hoped her flirtations would speed the evening along.
Less than ninety minutes later they were walking into Angelo’s third-floor studio apartment. The room was tidy, with a muted color scheme and modern decor seemingly devoid of a woman’s touch. With a giggle, Nancy was upon the little cuntboy as soon as the door closed behind them, pushing it invitingly toward the bed centered against the rear wall of the room.
“Hang on a second.” it said.
Angelo stood, taking a zippo lighter from the bedside table, and lit a series of scented candles organized neatly around the room. It then hung up its coat and laid on the bed. Nancy crawled on top, her toothy smile ravenous with a hunger for what was to come.
Nancy kissed the dysphoric dyke hungrily, her hands frantically kneading across the flesh, moving downward until she felt a large silicone cock-and-balls that cuntboys like Angelo sometimes wore inside their underwear to play at being real men. She let out a little squeal of delight, pretending to believe that the thing in Angelo’s underwear was its own and not some dress-up toy ordered from an online costume shop for freaks.
She moved downward, gingerly unfastening the button of the slacks and pulling down the zipper. She stood briefly to yank the pants off with dramatic flair before playfully hopping back onto the bed, Angelo’s feet straddled between her knees.
“Wow,” Angelo said, almost breathless at Nancy’s forceful passion. It reached toward a drawer at the bedside table, “Let me get the, uhh, ya know.”
“Mmm, of course. I bet you need the magnum size.” She said, rubbing the front of Angelo’s grey boxer-briefs. She dipped her fingers into the waistband and pulled down as her face descended.
Then suddenly her expression changed. “What the fuck is this?” she demanded as she seized the realistic silicone genitals and held them accusingly above Angelo’s suddenly confused face.
Nancy threw the fake cock forcefully onto the bed and yanked the boxer-briefs down to the knees. “Oh my god! You’re a fucking girl?!?” She shouted, her lips curling in disgust at the last word.
Angelo sat up, her hands darting to her underwear to re-dress herself, Nancy responded by slapping her hard across the face. Angelo looked scared, and helpless. “You lied to me, you tranny cuntboy freak!” Nancy spat the words at her, before literally spitting in her cowering face.
“Please don’t call me that!” Her voice was cracking.
Angelo yanked her feet out from under Nancy and crawled off the bed, pulling her underpants up in the process. He wiped Nancy’s saliva from her eye and tried to compose herself. With still panicked breathing, she pointed at the door and tried to sound authoritative. “You need to leave right now.” she was actually shaking, “Get the fuck out of my house.”
While Nancy hated the ghetto-monkey dialect she had grown up hearing, she found it useful when the occasion arose that she needed to assert a sort of primal authority. Still, she couldn’t help but speak with her erudite style of slow enunciation and clearly articulated consonants, “You had best get that base out of your voice before I shove that fake cock up your bitch-ass, you tranny, cuntboy motherfucker.” Nancy took slow, menacing steps toward her as she spoke. Angelo retreated.
“That’s it, I’m calling the police!” She hurried over to the slacks that had been tossed across the room, squatting down to reach into the pocket. At that moment, Nancy threw a meticulously practiced roundhouse kick that caught the little girl-faggot just below the ear. Angelo was left slowly writhing, half-conscious on the slate tile floor.
“I told you what was going to happen, didn’t I, cuntboy?” Nancy reached down and raked her fingers through Angelo’s dark blonde hair before her fingers formed into a fist; dragging her by her hair, she forced her back onto the bed before yanking her boxer-briefs down and off in several successive, violent motions. She continued holding the tranny face-down by her scalp with one hand while she grabbed the fake cock with the other. She drove her knee into the cuntboy’s ass to spread it wide enough to expose her tight, pink asshole. When she began stuffing the soft rubber cock into her, Angelo seemed to regain her senses. She started thrashing, but Nancy overpowered her and began shoving even harder.
“No! No please! You’re hurting me!” Angelo tearfully cried out as Nancy’s french manicure scraped against her anus with each push. Nancy smiled with satisfaction as the confused boy-girl begged for the violation to stop.
After several agonizing seconds, Nancy had finally stuffed the last of Angelo’s packer up her ass. She released her victim and stood back to take in the sight of the broken bitch. “Flip over and show me your pussy.”
The little cuntboy closed her eyes tightly, as if trying to block out the world. Nancy grabbed her hair again, yanking her to her feet. She punched the girl hard in the face twice, the crystalline points of the amethyst druzy ring leaving deep wounds that would heal into permanent scars across her freckled cheeks.
“Lay down and spread your legs!” Nancy commanded. The terrified girl finally complied, blood dripping from her wounded face. The sound of whimpering providing soundtrack for the sight of the pink cunt, adorned with a neatly trimmed layer of wispy blonde fuzz.
“That’s fucking disgusting. If you don’t even know how to shave a pussy, than you don’t deserve one.” Nancy stomped over to the night-stand to grab the zippo lighter, then returned to the foot of the bed, pinning Angelo’s legs wide against the mattress with her knees. This ensured that the tranny wouldn’t be able to close her legs as she flipped open the lighter and ignited the flame. Angelo looked down in horror as Nancy brought the flame against her sensitive, pink cunt.
The bitter smell of burning hair filled the room as the boy-pussy went aflame. A panicking Angelo tried to sit up, but was met with Nancy’s strong, steely fingers clamping around her windpipe and pinning her to the bed. The pathetic twat thrashed frantically, she didn’t know whether to try to snuff the fire that was blistering the skin of her labia, or rip away the vice-like grip that was crushing her throat. In the end, she succeeded at neither.
The fire, thankfully for Angelo, went out after several seconds. The skin of her vulva was left bright red, with various round spots of white where the damaged skin was beginning to form blisters. “You know, if you just wore a skirt and shaved you cunt like a good girl, I wouldn’t have to do this for you. But you’re too fucked in the head to do that, aren’t you?”
Nancy released her throat, the tranny cuntboy had a coughing fit. Her legs were still pinned open, driven painfully wide by the pointed knees driven into the nerve-laden tissue of her inner thighs. She finally took a few gasping breaths as she realized that Nancy was still holding the burning lighter.
“I’m doing this to help you get better, you know. You’re probably going to be tempted to try to turn that little clit of yours into a full fledged dicklet sooner or later, so…” she paused for just a moment to forcefully blow out the flame of the zippo, leaving only the glow of hot-red metal where the flame had been, “let me remove the temptation.”
She drove the hot metal firmly against Angelo’s skin. She screamed as her clit turned to smoke; Nancy muffled the screaming, pressing her hand over the girl’s mouth. Even the half-silenced shriek was almost loud enough to drown out the wet, popping sound of boiling skin.
A few seconds later, she pulled the hot metal away, having left most of its heat in Angelo’s destroyed clitoris. Little bits of burnt flesh snapped off and stuck to the lighter. Upon examining the wound, she was satisfied to see a rectangular reddish-pink pit where the flesh had been, shiny-wet inside and wreathed with ragged black edges.
The toned, statuesque rapist needed to take a moment to catch her breath; they both did. She stood, closing the lighter and tossing it on the bed. She took a brief moment to stretch while she listened to the frantic screaming sobs as Angelo clutched her devastated genitalia. Nancy looked down with a smile to see the fake rubber penis peeking out of her asshole as she heaved with tears.
She had almost forgotten about that! She pinched the soft rubber tip and yanked the full mass out of the boycunt’s twitching asshole. Almost reflexively, Angelo seemed to reach out for it like a toddler who’s favorite toy was just stolen away. She watched as Nancy held the phony organ at arms length and walked over the the adjoining kitchen. There was a brief pause in the sobbing as Angelo tried to divine Nancy’s intention. A new wave of disbelieving shock came over her as she watched the piece that defined her identity dropped into the sink drain and Nancy’s finger moved swiftly toward the switch of the garbage disposal.
“NO! PLEASE!!!” She screamed like a little girl watching her teddy bear being eviscerated. Her voice was soon drowned out by the grinding sound as the only intact set of genitals she had left was turned into mangled rubbery slivers by the spinning metal blades.
“For someone who thinks they’re a boy, you sure cry like a little girl!” Nancy snapped.
The broken bitch-boy managed to whimper out “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry? Sorry for lying to me, sorry for being a fucking pervert, or are you just a sorry piece of shit?” Nancy spat the words as an accusation.
“I’m so-oo-orry! Plee-heease! Please… just leave me alone.” Angelo barely managed to articulate the plea through the tears that streamed down her bloodied and battered face.
“You want me to leave?? I thought you wanted to get laid, you pathetic little dyke. What, am I suddenly not pretty enough for you anymore?”
“Why are you doing this to meee?”
Nancy rolled her eyes, “Okay, fine. You’re little pity-party worked. I’ll fuck you, you don’t need to beg.”
Angelo looked confused as Nancy advanced. She scrambled backward on the bed, leaving crumpled piles of sheets in her wake. Nancy grabbed her ankles and dragged her down forcefully before hopping onto the bed herself; her dense, muscular form crushing little Angelo beneath it. She began kissing the girl, tasting the salty combination of blood and tears as Angelo clenched her lips and eyes tightly. Undeterred, Nancy reached down and forced two fingers into the mutilated cunt below. Angelo twitched in fresh pain as she was roughly finger-raped. Kissing her way down the cuntboy’s neck and chest, she arrived once again at the mutilated pussy. From this angle she had the leverage to properly fist-rape the little tranny.
She added two more fingers roughly inside and began pushing. Angelo twitched violently at the painful new violation. Nancy encountered resistance when her bulky druzy ring pushed against the back edge of her hole.
“You’re ring! Please take off your ring!” Angelo regained her senses just enough to make the seemingly reasonable request not to be fisted by sharp points of rock. Unfortunately, Nancy didn’t feel very reasonable at the moment.
The fingers were roughly withdrawn, but only so Nancy could take a firm jab at Angelo’s mouth, splitting her lip and shattering a few of her teeth with the pointed formations of amethyst. “Don’t you dare tell me what to do, faggot!” She jammed her hand back up the girl’s burned and blistered vagina, her ring slowly scraping its way inside of her with a series of sudden violent thrusts. Angelo began screaming again as Nancy buried her hand wrist-deep inside of her.
“If you don’t shut the fuck up, I’m going to slit your throat.”
Angelo quickly grabbed a pillow to scream into as Nancy resumed her violent assault on her cervix. She punched in and out, making sure to bruise and scrape every inner surface with the crystal shards she wore as jewelry. After a few minutes of vigorous thrusting, she heard the dyke-faggot’s voice give out. She withdrew her hand, now slick with crimson blood whose hue was deepened upon her chocolate colored skin.
She looked down at Angelo, still pouring tears and blood and snot into the pillow and asked, “Well? I need to get off, too. Come here and lick my pussy.” She lifted the front of her blood-red dress, the wet streaks on her hand leaving barely noticeable stains. Beneath was a form-fitting pair of white cotton panties.
“I said lick my pussy, Angelo.” She demanded with a sneer.
The defeated form slowly dropped down from the bed, walking on her knees over to where Nancy stood, waiting. Nancy dipped a finger down and pulled her underwear aside, revealing the firm, flawless skin of her coffee colored labia.
Angelo opened her mouth and hesitantly moved it toward the neatly formed, feminine flower. Just before her tongue made contact, Nancy shot a stream of pale-yellow piss straight down Angelo’s throat. She began to cough and turned away.
Nancy grabbed her head angrily with both hands, “Don’t you dare turn away!” She forced the tomboy’s face back into the path of her urine. “Open your eyes! Open your fucking eyes!” She pried her date’s eyes open and shot salty piss straight across the green irises. When she was finally done using Angelo’s face as a urinal, she threw her onto the cold tile floor and gave her a couple of firm kicks in the torso.
Finally satisfied, she looked down at the sad, tormented form. She listened to the small, heaving tears of the thoroughly raped woman at her feet, her ragged voice periodically went silent. It was as if she was having a conversation with some unseen entity, and responding only in the language of weary sobs.
Nancy smiled, “Thanks for buying me dinner, Angelo. I had a great time tonight.”
With that, she left.
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Non-consent Nancy (part 1, repost)
(Part of the Pervert Pentet Series)
Chapter 1, parts 1 and 2
WARNING: This story focuses on a lesbian black woman who fetishizes rape, misogyny, racism, and abuse. As such, there will be copious amounts of offensive language and themes, including the sexualization of victims. The story is fiction, and nothing written here should be taken as an endorsement for any of these view or activities. In fact, I wholeheartedly condemn nearly everything the main character thinks and does in this story. I believe that consent is a central tenet of morality, and violations of it are only acceptable in the context of fiction.
Nancy had grown up in a conservative, affluent neighborhood. Being one of the only black girls, she became a target for bullies and bigots at an early age. The fact that she dressed and acted like a lesbian before she even fully realized her sexual orientation certainly didn’t do her any favors.
Her mother worked hard to give her a better life than she’d had; as such, she could be a bit dismissive of her problems. When she was little, and informed her that she was being bullied at school, she simply suggested that she try to turn her abusers into friends. Taking her suggestion to heart, from that point on, Nancy always responded to cruelty with kindness. She want out of her way to accommodate bullies, to show them more kindness than she showed anyone else.
In middle school, she pressed her mother to tell her about her birth-father. After a long conversation, her mother finally admitted that Nancy had been conceived through rape by a man her mother had never met. She reasoned then, that her mother had virtually nothing to do with actually creating her. Her father was the one who took the initiative that resulted in her existence. Therefore, every moment of her life, every instant of joy or pleasure she took from being alive, she owed to a rapist. Her gratitude and affinity for rapists and abusers began to reach a level that bordered on worship, with those who defied them being, in her eyes, akin to heretics.
When she reached high-school, her views became even more extreme. She had internalized her affinity for sadists so much that she began to hate victims that tried to fight back. She felt as though they were dishonoring the blessing they had been given. When her best friend, Janet tearfully confessed that she’d been date-raped by a boy she had a crush on, Nancy insisted that she not tell anyone, convincing her that she must have enjoyed it and that she should call the boy and apologize for being such an ungrateful brat. She was proud of herself for facilitating the three-month abusive relationship that followed. Even prouder that she thought to secretly ask the boy out herself, allowing him to cheat on her best friend, as was his right and her honor.
Nancy loved how creative the young man was. He often had Nancy come over right before a date with Janet so he could fuck her and have Janet unknowingly suck her best friends cunt juice off of his cock. He liked to ask Janet for particularly humiliating naked pictures which Nancy insisted it was her duty as a good girlfriend to send him. She often assisted Janet with these photoshoots, helping her write humiliating words on her body, making sure she spread her ass far enough to make her holes clearly visible, ensuring that her tongue really was making contact with the inside of the toilet.
Their friendship ended after the boy mentioned to Nancy that her friend refused anal, and fought vigorously when he tried to force her. Nancy was appalled at learning of her friend’s refusal, insisting that she would help; that night, they stripped her naked and Nancy held her down and covered her mouth while the boy raped her ass. It’s no wonder she thrashed about so much, her barely-lubricated asshole was bleeding pretty badly by the end. Nancy made her apologize for ruining the boys sheets and made her give him money from her purse to replace them.
Janet didn’t talk to Nancy after that, which annoyed the budding rape-enthusiast. That left Nancy with the problem of how to distribute her former friends humiliating pictures as punishment for her ingratitude. Certainly she couldn’t allow the boy to be blamed for sharing them with their classmates. Hell, she would have happily lied under oath to ensure he didn’t suffer the consequences of taking what was his.
Eventually a solution became apparent. There was another girl in her school who always rejected the advances of the boys, a nerdy type who talked back when people made fun of her. Nancy eventually figured out that this girl was a dyke as well. She had no problem with dykes, per se, she was one herself. She had a problem with bitches who thought they were too good to be a plaything for cruel men. So she hatched a plan.
She pretended to befriend the dyke, and eventually the two of them became lovers. A few weeks later she broke up with her very publicly at school, making sure to loudly announce how bad her pussy tasted and claiming she was breaking up with her because she couldn’t stand the girl’s hardcore scat-fetish. This would ensure that the little bitch would be made fun of for the rest of her Senior year, and it would open the door to blame her for posting Janet’s humiliating pictures online.
When the authorities investigated, Nancy admitted that she’d helped Janet take the pictures (claiming that it was Janet’s idea, and backing up the boy’s claim that it was actually Janet who pushed for kinky sex, a story she’d arranged with him earlier). She said that the dyke must have hacked into her computer after she broke up with her, and distributed the pictures as payback. Nancy made sure to include a few compromising pictures of herself in the photo-dump just to make the story more believable.
The plan had worked, in one fell swoop Nancy had managed to humiliate that ungrateful bitch Janet, and teach that stupid dyke what she gets for refusing men their right to use her body. It was one of the great triumphs of her young life, but she only just barely got away with it. Nancy knew that she’d need to be more careful from now on if she wanted to continue abiding by her life’s mission to help all bullies, abusers, and rapists.
So when she got to college she reinvented herself. Publicly she was an advocate for every marginalized group. She went to feminist marches, she spoke at Black Lives Matter events, and collected donations for LGBT causes. This way, she could be seen as a champion for the abused, they would trust her. Never suspecting that she actually masturbated each night to the teary-eyed confessions by dumb bitches whose boyfriends smacked them around or sorority cunts who didn’t appreciate getting gang-raped when they were stupid enough to get drunk at a party.
A few years in, Nancy was majoring in psychology and volunteering at a rape crisis center as a counselor. This is when she met Darla.
Nancy walked in that day with a button-up shirt and tie beneath her black vest. Her masculine fashion sense left little doubt to onlookers that she was a lesbian. It was form-fitting enough to display her slim body. Had she had her clothes ripped off in public, as she so often fantasized, observers would see a strong, athletic body with clear muscle definition beneath her smooth, dark brown skin. They would also notice the ample curves of her large breasts atop her six-pack abs, a contrast rarely seen in non-black women. Her hair was styled in neat dreadlocks that hung down just past her chin. Her whole style screamed liberal black lesbian feminist. Yet she dressed with enough allure that she hoped every misogynist, racist, and sadist that saw her went home and planned how to make her scream while they raped her dyke-nigger asshole bloody. She secretly believed it’s what all women deserved, and made it her life’s mission to ensure it happened to as many women as possible.
When she saw the defeated-looking woman with a bruised face in the rape crisis center office, she knew she was in for a treat.
“Hi, have you been helped yet?” Nancy said to the girl in a gentle voice.
“They said they don’t have anybody who can see me right now, and they said I have to wait.” she responded meekly, still staring at the ground, but obviously in distress.
Nancy squatted down in front of the girl to meet her eyes and gave her a reassuring smile. “My name is Nancy, would you like to go somewhere private and we can just sit together? If you want to talk, I’ll listen. If you want to just sit, that’s okay too. If you need a shoulder to cry on, or a hand to hold, I’ll be there for you if you want. And if, at any point, you think you’d feel better being alone, you’re welcome to leave, I won’t judge you or think less of you no matter what. I only care about making sure you get what you need right now.” She gave some version of this speech to almost every ungrateful cunt that came in. It made it easier for them to open up to her.
The girl nodded and Nancy led her to a small, quiet room where they sat across from one another. “Would you like to tell me your name?” Nancy asked.
“Darla.” She replied.
“It’s very nice to meet you Darla. What can I do to help you, today?” She asked softly.
“He raped me again last night.” Darla replied, her tone hectic. “I don’t know what I did! He always does this, even though he says he’s going to stop!”
Haha! What a stupid cunt! Nancy thought. “Who did this to you?”
“My ex boyfriend. Back when we were started dating, he said he understood that sex is something that’s really, really hard for me because of my childhood. But after a little while he said he didn’t want to wait anymore. And after that he stopped caring, and he didn’t even stop when I said no and begged him! That’s why I broke up with him, but he called me and said he changed. Except it seemed like he really meant it this time! He asked me to come over so he could give me a gift to apologize. But when I got there he…he…”
Oh, come on, don’t tease me you little rape-slut, Nancy thought, “It’s okay, you’re safe with me.” her gentle voice reassured the girl.
“He…put it in my butt.” Darla replied blushing, though the bruising on her face made it difficult to tell.
“This was the first time he’d forced you to have anal sex?” Nancy asked
Darla nodded, “That was always like really, really super off limits.” Tears rolled down the girls face. “And, and, and he knew that! I said I’d break up with him if he ever did that. He said he always wanted to, and that he was going to do it now that I can’t break up with him again.”
Well I can’t fault his logic! she thought as the girl cleaned the tears from her face with a tissue. Nancy briefly had a fantasy in which she congratulated the girl’s ex-boyfriend for a stellar job of tricking her into getting raped so many times, followed by the two of them laughing over how stupid she was to fall for it so many times. A brief moment later she considered how improved the fantasy would be if Darla were bound naked and gagged listening to them during the exchange as they prepared to rape her together. She was tempted to smile as she contemplated the scenario, but fortunately she was practiced at not letting her inner thoughts show on her face.
“You mentioned that sex was difficult for you because of your childhood. Was there something that happened when you were younger that resulted in you having a strong negative reaction to that particular act? Nancy asked.
“My parents used to make me do that when I was little. They used to make videos and let strangers do it to me for money.”
“They made videos of you having anal sex when you were underaged?”
“They stopped when I was fourteen, they said I was too old. But they only had men put it in my butt, because they said it’d be really bad if I got pregnant and had to see a doctor.” Darla explained, her lip quivering.
Jackpot! Nancy thought, I’ve got a real life porn-star in front of me! She wondered how many men and women had masturbated while watching her little asshole get sodomized. A spark of anger suddenly shot through Nancy. Ungrateful cunt, do you know what I would have given to have a childhood like yours?!? Her thoughts alternated back and forth between arousal and resentment. She compromised between the two emotions when she vowed to make Darla properly suffer for how blind she’d been for all the wonderful honors that her family and boyfriend had bestowed on her.
“Your boyfriend knew this when he anally raped you?”
“Yeah! He said he thought it was funny. He laughed and said that this keeps happening to me because I’m a whore, and I deserve it.” Darla said with tearful anger.
Smart AND a sense of humor! How dare this dumb bitch deny this charming boyfriend of hers the right to use his victim! She should be begging him to blister her cunt with a belt to show how sorry she is! God, I hate her!
“You’re a good-hearted person. It was very kind of you to keep giving him chances. But your kindness doesn’t mean you deserve to be raped.” The fact that you’re weak and you have a cunt means you deserve to be raped. Nancy finished the thought in her head.
The rest of the session continued along the same theme, with Darla pouring her heart out about her tragic life full of rape, molestation, and abuse. Nancy struggled to contain her excitement, but managed to maintain her professional disposition. Her only worry was that her cunt may have soaked through her slacks and left a stain on the chair. She resented this pathetic girl for having been given so much, yet being so stupid as to complain about it.
Finally finished with her cathartic confessions, Darla was finally ready to leave. Nancy, not wanting this delightful encounter to be fleeting, wrote down her phone number on a slip of paper and handed it to Darla. “I know you feel better now, but this isn’t something you can get over in one session. I’m taking a special interest in you. Feel free to call or text whenever you need, and I absolutely expect to see you back here soon.”
“Thank you, Doctor. That means a lot to me.” Darla replied before hugging her tightly. Nancy only had an Associate’s Degree, but chose not to correct her, hoping the assumption would work to her advantage at some point in the future. Darla walked out, riding on the high of catharsis.
Nancy stayed for a few more hours, but the rest of the afternoon was rather banal. A few girls came in asking about domestic abuse resources or abortion services. Much as she didn’t like helping these little rape-dolls, she had to if she was to keep her cover intact. Normally, she’d at least get a kick out of making girls give a few extra details before she provided them with what she wanted, but all she could think about is how she wanted to ruin and violate Darla.
When she left the center, she was so lost in thought, she hadn’t even heard the awkward footsteps of the girl racing to catch up to her.
“Hi, Nancy! I’m really glad that I get to volunteer here with you. You’re such an inspiration.” the girl said, failing at coming up with a natural way to start a conversation.
“Oh, Hannah. Hi, I didn’t notice you.” she replied. Hannah was a pansexual Jew-cunt that answered phones at the rape crisis center. She also took care of all the accounting. She’d been raped by her friend’s older brother when she was ten years old and it fucked with her self-esteem. She was desperate to get people to like her, a fact which Nancy regularly took advantage of. The big-nosed bitch always tried too hard, especially with people who treated her like shit.
“So, do you have any plans tonight?” Hannah asked.
Nancy smiled and took the Jew-cunt’s hand as they walked, interlocking her fingers. “I do! I’ve been dating a lot; getting pretty lucky in the romance department lately. But I don’t want to tell you about that, it’d be inconsiderate of your feelings. I’m sure you have something interesting going on. Tell me about that.”
Nancy knew that Hannah wasn’t especially popular and had a bit of a crush on her. Her background in psychology allowed her to utilize her knowledge to hurt Hannah in subtle ways while still pretending to be her friend. In a few sentences, she’d managed to remind her of the humiliating rejection that had occurred a few months ago; impress upon her the fact that while she has trysts with lots of women, she doesn’t find Hannah attractive enough to date; and put her on the spot to share plans that Nancy knew she obviously didn’t have.
The pair of them walked hand-in-hand as Hannah’s eyes frantically darted back and forth in thought as her chest slightly tensed, not knowing how to respond.
“Oh… ya know.” she finally replied with a forced smile.
“No, I don’t know. Come on, Hannah! Open up a little, you’re always so timid.”
“Ummm. Just… just catching up on some reading. Heh. Guess we’re not all as popular as you.”
“Hey, you’re a wonderful person. Any man, woman, or nonbinary would be lucky to be with you!” With that, Nancy kissed the lonely, desperate kike on the cheek and veered off in the other direction.
Nancy’s mind began to reel with delightfully villainous ideas. It’ll probably be a few days until I get a chance to see Darla again, she thought, Maybe it is finally time to give Hannah some attention.
That evening, Nancy went home and ordered a few spy cameras that she could use to record subsequent encounters with Darla. With that quick errand finished, she focused her attention on ensuring that her good friend Hannah the big-nosed Jew-cunt finally got put in her place.
Nancy worshipped individuals who violated others, but she did have a certain affinity for rapists on a cultural or societal scale as well. It’s why she has a strong veneration for men, whites, and authority figures (the last group being made up, predominantly, of white men). It was no wonder that she had developed a fetish for misogynist white-supremacists; in fact, she’d become a bit of one herself.
Jews like Hannah were among the worst, Nancy believed. As a shit-skin dyke, she couldn’t exactly claim superiority, but at least Nancy knew her place in the world. Hannah, however, was such a stereotypical Jew that it almost seemed intentional. She whined about being raped when she was little, she whined about her ancestors being tortured in the Holocaust, she even sometimes whined about her ancestors being enslaved in Egypt. In typical Jew fashion, she played them off like jokes, but Nancy knew that the little kike actually did feel as though these things were injustices.
Nancy hoped her friend would eventually learn her lesson and join her in honoring all the wonderful contributions that rapists and abusers make to society, but she was impatient and wanted to help her along.
A few months before, she sent Hannah a naked picture of herself out of the blue. She had picked up on the girl’s crush on her and hoped to use that to subtly humiliate her. Hannah’s response was ecstatic, she poured her heart out, saying how she’d loved her from afar for so long and was overjoyed to know that she felt the same way. After that followed a series of lewd images of the black-haired kike. Nancy didn’t reply, despite the increasingly nervous-sounding texts that followed. Instead, she confronted Hannah the next day in person. She remembered the conversation vividly…
“I felt like I owed it to you to explain this in person. I think you got the wrong idea yesterday. I had a great day at the gym and I was just feeling really good about my body, so I sent pictures to some of my close friends, but it was completely platonic, Hannah. I’m just a very body-positive person. I’m so sorry you got the wrong idea, it must have been so humiliating to you, but I could never be intimate with you. I value our friendship so much, so I just want to be clear. You are not attractive….to me. I still think you’re a great person, but I could never find you physically appealing.”
Nancy smiled as she thought back on that moment with pride. The look of pain and humiliation on Hannah’s face was priceless. She had run to the bathroom just after the conversation, and Nancy snuck in a few minutes later to hear her crying loudly. She felt an exhilaration at knowing she’d hurt the girl so deeply. In just a few moments, Nancy had left a mark in her mind and soul that would last for years, probably decades; words that would echo over and over again. There was a sort of romance to that, knowing that her friend would carry that moment with her for such a long time. It was the kind of gift that bullies left their victims with. But tonight, Nancy wanted Hannah to have an even better gift.
She knew that Hannah would be home alone tonight, so Nancy reached out to some of her online resources. She could be herself on the internet, and it made her many friends among rape-baiters and rapists. Those were the people she needed that night.
Nancy was posing as Hannah online, she was uploading the obscene images that the Jew-cunt had sent her a few months before and claiming that she was finally ready to fulfill her fantasy of being brutally violated by racists. She had even photoshopped an image she’d found of Hannah online. The original image showed her face holding a sign reading “I need feminism because no one believed me when I told them I was raped. I was 10.” But with some slight touch ups, in the new image, the sign read, “I don’t need feminism, I need my Jew-holes brutally gang-raped by Nazi cock.” Photoshopping “I need feminism” signs had become a bit of a hobby for Nancy, and she’d become pretty good at making them look real.
She was sure to include this new picture along with the other images of her naked body. She sent them to anyone with potential, even posted them online in a few spots with her name and location. Finally she got into a conversation with someone who was close enough and real enough to get it done tonight. Nancy shared private details, still posing as Hannah and claiming to consent to anything he and his friends wanted to do to her. She begged him for an assurance that he’d violate every hole, that he’d beat her. Even made him promise that he’d break her big Jew-nose. She warned him that she wanted it to be real, so she was going to beg and cry a lot, but they weren’t to stop raping her, no matter what.
The stranger online gave assurances that he’d do everything she asked and more. Nancy proceeded to give him Hannah’s home address, along with details of her house, and the location of the spare key. She finished by thanking him, then went off to masturbate for hours as she thought about all the wonderful things that could be happening to Hannah that night.
I’m such a good friend. She thought with a smile before falling asleep.
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Second day of the Pervert Pentet reposts. For those who didn’t see this earlier, while I’m finishing up the last touches on “First Day of School, part 2″ and finishing the illustration this week, I’ll be reposting stories from the ongoing series, The Pervert Pentet. Today I’m going to be featuring Non-Consent Nancy, the African American gay woman who developed a kind of societal Stockholm Syndrome to the point that she often goes out of her way to (often violently and sexually) oppress women, minorities, and lgbt people. She’s a statuesque, hard-bodied sadist who takes delight in every way that power over others can be abused. Though her public persona belies her darker proclivities, infiltrating those she considers inferior by posing as a liberal black feminist.
I recently recreated the Pervert Pentet in the Sims 4, so in lieu of actually spending the hours coming up with new illustrations to accompany old stories, I figured I’d just take some screenshots to act as a visual aid.
I’ll also be reposting Torture-Lover Teira today, but her “presence” is difficult to depict visually. For those interested, Teira and Nancy will eventaually become very close.
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Potty-Mouth Piper (part 3, repost)
(Part of the Pervert Pentet Series)
Content Warning: The following story contains depictions of feces, flatulance, vomit, and mucus; with most being eaten. Also, just some absolutely depraved examples of hand-holding, kissing, cuddling, and heartfelt declarations of lesbian teenage love.
Also, this finishes out Chapter One of Piper’s story. Her next appearance will be when her story intersects with another member of the Pervert Pentet (Sharking Sherry, who’s one of the last two members to be introduced).
Piper spent the next few weeks in the psych ward; Mackenzie visited as often as she was able. She couldn’t get enough of seeing Piper’s face light up every time she saw her. She had even scouted some nearby stores to see if she could find the same puzzle that Piper had been working on when she first visited her in the hospital. When she finally found it and presented the gift, Piper seemed so touched that she actually held back tears. The green-haired filth-fetishist was smiling ear to ear as they were finally able to complete the puzzle together.
“Together” may be an overstatement. In truth, Piper did well over ninety percent of it, mostly while explaining the geometry of irregular tessellations in jigsaw puzzles and something about how the pieces could be categorized by pattern… or something. Mackenzie honestly couldn’t follow when she started going on about things like that, but she loved seeing how happy it made her to have someone who actually listened to her ramblings. She learned a lot about Piper in those few weeks; one of the most surprising things is that the mohawked, foul-mouth punk was really, REALLY smart.
It took a few awkward conversations for Mackenzie to get her parents to believe that she kept visiting because she just sincerely liked Piper. They weren’t the type to pry much, but at first it seemed like they believed that she felt sorry for the green-haired girl, or that it was part of her learning to forgive Piper for what had happened during the school assembly. She had to be clear that she really just thought Piper was interesting and sweet, and that despite her “behavioral problems” she might want to start dating her once she was released from the mental hospital.
When that day finally came, Mackenzie wanted to spend every moment with her and finally get a chance to do more than talk with her in the visiting room of a hospital. Unfortunately, Piper explained that she wanted some time to smooth things over with her mom, first. A few agonizingly long days later, Mackenzie finally got a text saying that Piper’s mom was okay with them having a sleepover! She still felt like this was all some kind of fantasy! As if all the disgusting porn she’d watched online over the last few years congealed into this perfectly vulgar woman who was too good, too dirty, too pretty to be real. There were even times where she considered that maybe she was spending so much time in a mental hospital because Piper was a delusion, a fantasy she made up to help the shy girl act out all of her obscene secret desires.
But as she approached the brick ranch-style house where Piper lived, she knew it was all real. She walked up the steps and rang the doorbell, her heart racing with anticipation. Her tension grew a bit when she saw that it was Piper’s mother who answered the door. She had heard mostly good things about Miss Lindeholm, but she couldn’t help but be a little bit intimidated now that she knew she was a professional dominatrix.
Mackenzie was invited inside where she barely had time to set down her overnight bag before she saw a grinning Piper barreling toward her. Their chests collided as she threw her arms around her and squeezed. Mackenzie couldn’t help but giggle at the unrestrained eagerness. She returned the hug and couldn’t keep her heart from fluttering as her hands touched Piper’s bare skin. She wore a threadbare black tank top that had been cut off at the bottom of her ribs and a plaid mini-skirt. At the hospital, they hadn’t been permitted to touch very much, and the pajama-like outfit almost made her forget how delicately slender Piper’s body was. If she were a couple inches taller, she could have been a runway model.
Piper’s mom watched with a slight smirk for several seconds as the two girls embraced. “All right, you’ll have plenty of time for that later. I’d like to talk to Mackenzie now. Please give us the room, Piper.” Her tone seemed pleasant, but firm. Though that didn’t do much to assuage Mackenzie’s nervousness.
As they reluctantly pulled away from each other, Mackenzie caught Piper’s eyes. The worried expression on her face prompted Piper to explain, “No, it’s cool. My mom’s rad as fuck. She just wants to make sure I’m not, like, blackmailing you with pictures of you sucking a dog’s dick or something.”
“What?? Oh! Oh gosh, no.” She turned to the older woman, “No, it’s nothing like that, Ma’am. I really, really like Piper.”
“All the same, I’d like Piper to excuse us so that we can talk.” Miss Lindeholm led Mackenzie to a sleek looking leather and metal couch in the living room that faced a glass coffee table. A slightly dejected Piper made her way to what looked like the kitchen.
Mackenzie sat next to the professionally dressed blonde woman. “I sense you’re nervous, Mackenzie,” she began in a kind voice as she took her hand, “but I promise you that you’re safe. If my daughter has said or done anything to compel you to come here or to have a relationship with her, you can tell me and I’ll protect you.” There was something about her that almost immediately instilled trust, there was an effortless confidence that was also nurturing. Mackenzie supposed that was part of what made her a good dominatrix.
She took a deep breath to try to still her nerves before responding. “I really, really, REALLY like your daughter, Ma’am. I… Well I guess I’ve only ever told her this, but umm, I fantasized about things like this a lot for a long time before I met Piper. And I would look at… umm… ya know… scat porn.” Mackenzie’s face scrunched up and turned beet red for a moment as she realized that she’d just told her friend’s mom that she’d been looking at scat porn on the internet for years. She tried to power through it, “So, Piper is just sort of like all my… fetishes, and everything else I ever fantasized about. All put together.”
There was a momentary pause before Piper’s mom spoke, “Okay. I’m very happy to hear that, Mackenzie. To be honest, I was skeptical that the things Piper was telling me about you were true. She almost never lies, but she also can’t tell when other people are lying to her. So a part of me was worried that you were playing a trick on her. But I’m very relieved by what you’ve told me. Piper has mentioned to you that I’m a sex-worker, correct?”
“Yes, Ma’am. She said you’re a professional mistress?”
“That’s right. I get the sense that you feel hesitant in talking about your fetishes, but I want you to know that you won’t be judged in this household for any of those feelings. It’s okay to be sexually aroused by touching or eating shit, or watching others touch or eat shit. It’s actually a lot more common than most people would believe. Has anyone ever told you that before?”
Mackenzie thought for a moment about what she’d just heard. Obviously no one had ever said that to her before, as she was only the second person to even know about her fetish, but she’d also never had anyone tell her that it was okay. She never thought of herself as someone who held a lot of shame for her kink, yet somehow, it was as if she felt the release of a huge burden that she didn’t even know she was carrying. After briefly getting lost in thought, she realized that Miss Lindeholm was still sitting there waiting for a response. “No, Ma’am.” she took a deep breath to steady her resolve and then released it, “Miss Lindeholm, it really turns me on watching girls eat poop. And I want to eat poop, too… because I think it’s a really sexy thing to do.” She let out a tiny giggle after she finished her admission. “I can’t believe I really said that to you! It actually feels really…relieving, I guess!”
“I’m glad. Being able to communicate about what turns you on is important. And so is consent. If you’re going to have a relationship with my daughter, I want to talk to you about some things. Given the things Piper likes to do, there’s a bit of a unique ‘sex talk’ that’s specific for her.
“But first, the basics: Remember that you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Anything you do with a partner should be because you both want to be doing it. Now relationships are complex, and consent is complex. But a good rule of thumb is that ‘no’ means no, ‘maybe’ means no, and only ‘fuck yes’ means yes. What that means is that you should both be enthusiastic about the sex acts you engage in. If you perform certain activities solely because the other person wants you to, it eventually causes problems in your relationship. Do you understand?”
“Good. Now getting into specifics: First, Eating feces runs a high risk of making you sick at first. It is possible for your digestive system to adapt, god knows Piper is evidence of that, but if you choose to engage in that fetish, you should go slowly at first. I’ve left a bottle of medicine in Piper’s room to help minimize the chance of you becoming ill, you should take one every twelve hours for a couple of days, even if you don’t feel like anything is wrong. Second, urine is mostly safe to drink, but keep in mind that your body will be filtering it a second time when you swallow it. So as sexy as you might find it to only drink each others piss, over time it can put an unhealthy strain on your kidneys.
“So to sum up, you can drink piss every day, but you still need to drink real water to stay healthy. And you can work up to eating shit every day, but you need to be careful, and you’ll still need real food. Do you have any questions, Mackenzie?”
She sat for a moment taking it all in. While the brief lecture from a women she barely knew was, without a doubt, unfathomably awkward, Mackenzie also found it really helpful. Not only because of the information, but because of the assurance that while she was in this house, she could feel like she was normal. This woman had explained the risks of trying to drink nothing but Piper’s piss with more comfort and ease than her own mother did when she explained why she shouldn’t flush tampons. “No, Ma’am. No questions. Umm, thank you for all that, though. Can I see Piper now?”
She released Mackenzie’s hand that she’d been gently cradling through the conversation and gave a small nod. As she stood up, she saw Piper eagerly stride into the room; apparently she’d been eavesdropping the whole time. “Okay, cool. So I made dinner for you and me. My mom doesn’t like when I make food for her because I always put the food in my ass first, but you said that’s something you wanted to try?”
“Yes!” Mackenzie replied enthusiastically. Piper took her gently by the wrist and led her into the kitchen. She was increasingly noticing that Piper’s home had a very sterile, modern look to it. Best she could tell, her mom ordered all their home furnishings from a Sharper Image catalogue.
The two of them finally came to be in front of a large bowl of green goo that had been set on the marble countertop. Next to it was a enormous tube with a plunger that Mackenzie recognized from her videos as an enema syringe. “So I made us split pea soup. It looks gross as shit, but it tastes really good. Also, it makes you fart a lot. I thought about squirting it up my asshole before you came over, but I figured you’d probably want to watch that part. Oh! And it’s vegetarian.”
Mackenzie had revealed that her family didn’t eat meat during their conversations at the hospital over the last few weeks, so she appreciated the consideration. In fact, she was impressed with the amount of thought Piper had put into everything. She gave an joyful nod of approval and then watched Piper suck up a large quantity of the bright green sludge into the enema syringe.
“Here.” Piper said with a confident smile as she handed the large tube to Mackenzie. For a moment, Mackenzie almost looked confused. Piper smirked and gave a confident shrug, “Figured you’d want to do the honors and fill up my fart-hole.”
Mackenzie gasped gently in awe, and then nodded her head excitedly. Piper leaned over onto the counter and flipped up the back of her skirt. She used one hand to pull her ass apart, but in truth it was unnecessary; while Piper’s ass had a pleasant roundness to it, the long, lean girl’s butt was rather small, and her cheeks readily parted to reveal her little pink anus and shaved vulva as soon as she bent past forty-five degrees.
“You don’t have to do anything special, just stick the end in and push that part on top down slowly.” Mackenzie nodded in response to Piper’s instructions. She took a deep breath and lined up the tip of the big acrylic tube. She pushed and felt Piper’s asshole give minimal resistance; the actual tip was about two inches long, and once it was all the way in, she noticed the girl’s sphincter clench around it to create a tight seal. As Mackenzie began to push down the plunger, she considered how practiced Piper must be at this. After all, she was so dedicated to ass to mouth that she had it tattooed on the side of her head. Though the tattoos had recently become slightly obscured by the yellow stubble that had grown during her stay in the psych ward.
“Do you really do this with everything you eat?” Mackenzie asked as she gingerly pumped the tasty green slurry into her friend’s bowels.
“Well with soup and stew and that kinda shit, yeah,” she began casually, as if she weren’t actively receiving a warm pea-soup enema from a conservatively dressed teen redhead, “Other stuff I just need to make sure it’s dick-shaped like baguettes or wraps or carrots. And there are things you can kinda stuff up there like french fries or scrambled eggs, and big things like pizza I just tear into pieces and shove up my ass a piece at a time.”
“Wow.” She had talked to Piper about her compulsion to only ever eat things that had been inside someone’s asshole (normally her own, purely out of convenience), but that had been so abstract before now. “Why…” she began the question hesitantly, “I mean, why do you do it?”
“Uhh, because I’m fuckin’ awesome?” Mackenzie giggled girlishly at Piper’s response.
“I think it’s empty now.” she noted as she finished emptying their soon to be dinner up the girl’s shitter.
“Okay, pull it out slowly.” Piper’s asshole immediately clenched shut to trap the liquid inside her as Mackenzie withdrew the enema syringe. She stood up and began massaging her slightly distended abdomen. “Seriously, though, I had the idea a long time ago, and I think I’m probably the only person in the world who does this. I mean, if you read fantasies about people being full toilet slaves, there’s a bunch of people who fantasize about eating nothing but shit for their whole lives. But it’s not medically possible; there are things your body needs and doesn’t excrete, so if you only eat shit you eventually end up with serious nutritional deficiencies. But if I do it this way, then even if I’m not always eating shit, I’m always eating something that someone shit out of their ass.”
“So… you’re kinda like the number one scat-girl in the whole world?” Mackenzie asked, excitement slightly overtaking her timid manner.
“Fuckin’ awesome, right??”
“Totally awesome.” She replied as Piper placed a green bowl on the floor and squatted over it. Mackenzie was transfixed as she watched her friend skillfully dispense the thick green soup from her asshole. She’d watched plenty of videos of girls getting food enemas (milk or whipped cream seemed most common), normally it would come out in squirts and sputters, but Piper may as well have been a mechanical food dispenser as smoothly as she plopped the ass-slime into the bowl. It just reinforced the idea that Piper was a queen of filth; the girls in videos only did those kinds of things for porn. But Piper did them every day.
The first bowl was full and she clenched her hole briefly as she switched to the second bowl. She repeated the process of dispensing split pea soup with a wet plopping sound. It only took about thirty seconds for her to fill both. She kept her legs wide as she stood almost all the way up into a half-squat. She grabbed a paper towel and began to move it toward her backside to clean the last residue of the green goo.
“Wait!” Mackenzie shouted, probably too loudly, while grabbing Piper’s wrist. “Can I…? I mean…can we use my tongue to be toilet paper… for you?” She was embarrassed by the awkward phrasing, but she was proud of herself for being bold enough to ask.
Piper nodded with surprise and approval, before bending forward to grab her ankles. Mackenzie hesitantly squatted down behind her, staring at the few specks of green still sticking to her anal ring. She finally stuck out her tongue and launched her face at Piper’s butt. She almost knocked the skinny girl off balance with her eagerness, but grabbed onto the front of her hips to steady her. She gave one long, hard lick from the back of Piper’s pussy all the way to the top of her ass-crack. She swallowed hard with a tight-lipped grin as the other girl turned around to face her.
“You make really good toilet paper.” For a moment, Piper’s big grin seemed almost coy. Anyone looking at the two young women at that moment would know that they were lovestruck, in that special and charmingly awkward way that only teenagers can be.
Piper picked up the two bowls before spending a few moments getting lost in Mackenzie’s cerulean-blue eyes. She took a quick breath and let it out sharply to focus herself before handing a bowl to Mackenzie. “Okay, we should go to the dining room. My mom’s probably getting tired of waiting.”
She handed one of the bowls to Mackenzie and the two of them headed into the next room where Piper’s mother sat patiently at the head of a rectangular table in front of what appeared to be a chef’s salad that had been prepared by a high-end food delivery service.
“Sorry we took so long, Mom.” Piper said as the she and Mackenzie sat next to each other at one side of the table.
“It’s perfectly all right. Mackenzie is experiencing a lot of new things, and there’s no need to rush her.” She picked up her fork and stabbed the salad a few times, collecting the different elements into a single bite. Piper dipped her spoon into the butthole-flavored soup that had been freshly prepared.
There was a brief moment of awkwardness as Mackenzie bowed her head and clasped her hands, briefly whispering a quick prayer of gratitude before eating. When she opened her eyes, she could tell by the slightly uncomfortable smiles that her dining companions were unaccustomed to the ritual. She couldn’t honestly blame them; a sex-worker and a lesbian scatgirl no doubt had experiences where they’d run afoul of some of the less progressive followers of Christ.
“So how did you become a professional mistress, Miss Lindeholm?” Mackenzie asked to break the tension. She reverently brought the first spoon-full of pea-soup to her mouth as the older woman began to answer.
“Well, hmm, where to begin.” she mused to herself briefly. “My family moved here from Sweden just before I started high-school. Being a tall, pretty blonde with a foreign accent meant that I became something of an obsession for the boys at school. Even at that age, I could tell that I was more of a fetish for them, so rather than ending up with a boyfriend, my interactions were more… transactional.”
“Transactional?” Mackenzie thought she knew what the word meant, but she wanted to be sure.
“It means that we were each trading things we wanted from the other, dear. I would get gifts and favors, and the boys would get what they wanted. As an example, the going rate was five dollars to flash my breasts for five seconds.” she said with a self-satisfied smirk.
“That’s… like a dollar a second!”
Piper’s mom flashed an amused grin at the shy redheads excitement. “Eventually they started doing bigger and bigger things for me and expecting more in return, which is how I ended up pregnant with Piper my Junior year. My parents were furious but they couldn’t disown me while I was a minor, so they kicked me and Piper out of the house when I turned eighteen. Piper was almost two at the time. We were briefly homeless, and the only way I knew how to make money was to let boys pay to do what they wanted with my body. It was… difficult for a few years but I kept working until I could charge more and more.. Eventually I trained to be a pro-domme, and now I run my own dungeon where I make a lot of money, and I get to tell everyone else what to do.” She finished her story with a proud smile.
“Wow!” was all Mackenzie said. She had been so obsessed with Piper, she had hardly taken the time to appreciate what an impressive woman her mother was. And beautiful, too. The golden-haired scandinavian beauty should be around thirty-five by Mackenzie’s math, but she had a timeless quality that could easily have allowed her to pass for ten years younger.
She turned her focus to the bowl of food that she’d been absentmindedly slurping as she listened to Miss Lindeholm’s brief recap of her life, taking the time to really enjoy the flavor. It was good! Comfortingly warm with all the right spices in subtle combinations, and a slightly earthy flavor that she suspected (hoped) came from its brief time inside Piper’s ass.
“What about your parents, Mackenzie. What do they do?”
She briefly glanced over to see Piper smiling widely as she ate, she seemed happy to see her two favorite women bonding with one another. She turned back, “Well, my father writes early chapter books for elementary and middle-school kids. He does a lot of ‘choose-your-own-adventure’ stories, ‘cus he says that if people learn how to make decisions when they’re young, they’ll be better at it when they grow up.”
“And that’s how your parents raised you?” she asked as she popped another mouthful of the crisp salad into her mouth.
“Mhm! My parents always tried to let me make my own decisions. I guess that’s why I never really went through a rebellious phase. Oh, and my mom does arts and crafts. She sews and knits and crochets, she even draws and paints sometimes, too. She illustrated a couple of my dad’s books, and she makes most of my clothes. She’s kind of a workaholic.”
Around that time she heard Piper reaching the bottom of her soup. She hadn’t said much, but she seemed content, if slightly eager to move the evening toward the fun part.
Mackenzie, sensing Piper’s eagerness, rushed to finish her own soup. Piper finally spoke up, “Okay, mom. We’re done, can we be excused now?”
“Oh, but I’m having such a nice time talking with your new friend.” her mom teased. “We have ice-cream for dessert, you know.”
“I’m lactose intolerant.” Mackenzie interjected.
Piper’s eyes widened, “Wait, really??”
“Well, like, does it hurt you, or are you just like… PPFFFTTT!!” Piper ended her sentence by making a vulgar, simulated fart noise with her mouth.
Mackenzie blushed for a moment, finally grasping the reason for Piper’s excitement. She looked up to catch Piper’s expectant gaze. “We should have ice cream.” she giggled.
“Can we have dessert in my room, Mom? Please?” Piper pleaded.
Miss Lindeholm sighed with a smile, knowing there was no point in trying to keep the scat-addicted lesbian love-birds apart. “Okay, sweetheart. Just keep everything contained to your room.”
Piper leapt up from her chair and ran to the kitchen. She returned a moment later holding a pint of ice-cream and a spoon before she grabbed Mackenzie by the wrist and pulled her excitedly down the hall.
The happy duo reached the threshold of the bedroom, but Mackenzie felt her foot catch on something in the doorway. They tripped and she tumbled to the floor on top of Piper. “Oh my gosh, I’m sorry! Are you okay?”
The two of them stood up, realizing that maybe they should tone down their excitement just a tad. “It was my fault,” Piper began with a contrite smile, “I forgot to warn you about the edge. I always used to think that if I ever had someone over that I should remember to tell them that it’s a tripping hazard, and now I finally have someone here and I forgot.”
Mackenzie looked down to see what she’d tripped over, and realized that there was a lip coming up about two inches separating the floor of Piper’s room from the rest of the house. Furthermore, while most of the house was floored with an elegant grey carpet, Piper’s room seemed to be lined with a sturdy, off-white linoleum. The furniture, she realized, was all either on legs, or raised a few inches off the ground with risers. “Do you…” she began piecing together the reason for the odd decor, “pee and poop on the floor?”
“Not just on the floor!” Piper responded excitedly as she motioned over to the bed, placing the ice-cream on a nightstand. “Feel it.” she said, offering a piece of what appeared to be oddly thick black sheets. Upon examining the material, she realized that it felt somewhat like a wet-suit. The mattress covering and pillowcases seemed to all be made of the same soft, yet waterproof material.
Every time Mackenzie thought she had a grasp on the intensity of Piper’s filth fetish, she showed her a new dimension. This, she thought, truly takes the cake. Piper’s entire bedroom was designed to be used as a toilet!
She almost couldn’t conceive of someone whose life was that dedicated to a filth fetish. She couldn’t believe that Piper’s mom had been so accepting! This actually required pretty major renovations of the house!
“Oh, and check this out.” Piper continued as she opened a door that Mackenzie had previously assumed was a closet, “Ta-da! Private bathroom.” She looked inside to see a sink and bathtub, but where she expected the toilet to go was a stacked washer/dryer combo. There also seemed to be an industrial wet-vac against one wall. “My mom doesn’t like me making a mess in the rest of the house, so she made it so that I can do whatever I want in here as long as I keep the door closed, and I clean up after myself.”
“This…is incredible.” Mackenzie was awed. Before she met Piper, she’d always fantasized about dating the type of vulgar, filthy women that made scat porn, but Piper was definitely not that kind of woman. She was so far beyond them.
“Oh! Before I forget…” Piper hopped over to the dresser beside the door from which they entered and opened the bottom drawer. It was empty. “I cleared this out, so you could have a place to put your stuff when you come over. I made it the bottom drawer so I could look at your butthole when you bend over to get stuff out of it. I mean, if you’re naked in here. Which I usually am. But you don’t have to be if you don’t want to. Redheads usually have really pretty buttholes, so I hope I get to see yours.”
Mackenzie had learned that Piper had a tendency to announce her inappropriate thoughts aloud, and also that she never acted like they were inappropriate. Somehow it always made her feel like she could be liberated from her shyness. At one point, she actually spent a few hours one evening trying to think of something she could realistically say or do in front of Piper that might incur her disapproval. Despite her best efforts, nothing came to mind.
“Okay, well… I think I left my overnight bag in the other room. I’m gonna go get that. And, I mean, if you want to get naked while I do that, it would… make my pussy really wet?” Mackenzie attempted to mirror Piper’s obscenely inappropriate manner, but it didn’t quite suit her just yet.
She headed back toward the front door where she’d dropped her bag, and returned a few seconds later to find the skinny girl proudly displaying all ninety-six pounds of her shaved five-foot-seven frame.
There was a brief pause as Mackenzie felt overwhelmed by the sight before her. She didn’t know if it was love, or lust, or simple adoration; she just knew that she was so thankful that Piper was hers for that moment. She tossed her bag in the drawer as she strode forward with a burning passion. Her arms coiled around the naked girl and their lips met in unbridled intensity. A moment later they were on the bed, Piper beneath her with legs wrapped around the redhead’s hips. Mackenzie’s tongue forcefully pushed its way into Piper’s mouth, an invasion that she welcomed happily, judging by the little moan that escaped her throat. A few seconds later Piper’s tongue pushed back. Meanwhile, Mackenzie’s hands were running over the soft pink flesh beneath her, kneading and groping her tiny breasts, feeling the ribs just beneath her skin, down to the serpentine, writhing muscles of her waist, then sliding around to dig her fingers into a firm handful of Piper’s soft, little ass.
Eventually, the two of them needed to come up for air. They breathed heavily and stared at each other from inches away, both still happily imprisoned in a cage of one another’s limbs. “Wow,” Piper said, “You’re a really good kisser.”
“Did I do okay?”
“You’re amazing.” Mackenzie replied.
“Oh good. ‘Cuz I’ve kinda never done that before.”
Mackenzie’s jaw dropped open. “What?! Piper, was that your first kiss???”
She blushed a little bit while smiling. Then nodded.
“But… You’ve had sex!”
Piper looked away with a shy grin, “I mean, only with dudes and like a couple of dogs. And I’m super gay, so I only do that kinda shit because it’s gross and I like saving the cock-snot in my ass for later. But, I’ve never been with a girl before, and… nobody ever wanted to kiss me before.”
“So, you’re kinda like a virgin? With girls at least.”
“I guess.” Piper replied, “What about you?”
Mackenzie shook her head while wearing an uncharacteristically cocky smile. “Nope! Church camp when I was sixteen, and I dated a girl for a couple months last year before we moved here.”
“Wow, I didn’t know you were such a slut.” Piper teased, her words dripping with sarcasm, “In that case, we better keep this on the downlow, I can’t be seen running around with women of low morals, I’ve got my reputation as a good-girl to maintain!” She punctuated the end of her sentence by cocking her hips and releasing a deep, rumbling fart that turned to a wet squeak just at the end.
The two girls burst out laughing and untangled from one another’s arms. “We should close the door if we’re going to be doing that kinda thing, right?” Mackenzie asked, remembering that Piper’s mom went to great lengths to keep the various messes and smells contained in Piper’s bedroom. Piper nodded.
Mackenzie hopped up and shut the door. She turned back to Piper. For a brief moment, she tried to think of some clever or flirty way to say she wanted take her clothes off, but “I’m going to get naked now, okay?” Was all she came up with.
“Okay!” Piper replied, hopping up to a cross-legged position so she could watch. Mackenzie always felt awkward about talking to people, but oddly she never experienced bashfulness when it came to her body. So when Piper treated her undressing as though it was a performance, she was flattered, rather than embarrassed.
She stood in the middle of the room between the bed and the dresser. She grasped the bottom of her yellow knit sweater and peeled that off before placing it in the empty drawer next to her bag. She undid the buttons of her undershirt and dropped it in the drawer as well. She elected not to wear a bra to the sleepover. Despite being a full C-cup nearing a D, her teenaged breasts were still extremely perky. In fact, she considered them possibly her best physical feature. She paused a few moments to give Piper the opportunity to stare at her now naked tits.
She took off her sneakers and socks next. She tried to figure out a sexy way to do that, but after almost falling on her ass twice in the attempt, she decided to just bend over and take them off normally.
“Hey, do you not shave?” Piper asked suddenly. Mackenzie had just finished taking off her shoes and socks, and realized that Piper must have gotten a glimpse of her underarms in the process. Mackenzie always dressed rather conservatively, and what little body-hair she had was extremely fine and light. So she rarely made the effort to remove it. In fact, even though she often wore shorts or knee-length skirts, she’d never had anyone comment on the imperceptible amount of peach-fuzz that adorned her legs. But her armpits did have a small patch of fine, strawberry blonde hair that was noticeable to anyone looking closely. And Piper was looking closely.
“I don’t usually bother. But I can if you want me to. I actually brought a razor just in case. I wasn’t sure what you liked, since I know that you shave everything.”
“It’s cute, don’t shave it!” Piper replied.
She smiled and continued to strip, undoing her flowy ankle-length skirt and letting it fall to the floor. She had worn her cutest pair of white cotton panties with a little pink bow at the top. But she hooked her thumbs in the waist and dropped those to the floor as well.
Mackenzie took a step forward, naked as the day she was born. Her long red hair hung flatly down her back. That and the patch of dark auburn pubic hair were the only splashes of color upon the marble-white canvas of her skin. Her first girlfriend had once commented that her body looked just like the Venus de Milo. At the time, the resemblance was almost uncanny, but her tits had grown a bit since then.
She laughed slightly as she watched Piper’s wide-eyed, slack-jawed expression. She turned around to give her a good look at her backside before bending over to pick up her skirt and underwear so that she could put them in the drawer. Her stance was wide as she bent forward, neatly folding and organizing the pile of clothing she’d dumped. She remembered Piper’s comment about wanting to look at her butthole, and wanted to make sure she had an opportunity to get a good, long look.
Finally she turned around to see the green-haired girl looking a bit awestruck. Piper swallowed before speaking “You’re the most beautiful woman in the world. Did you know? I feel like someone should have told you. That you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, I mean.”
Mackenzie smiled and blushed, but there was no hint of joking or sarcasm from Piper. Her words were dead-serious, that made Mackenzie blush even more. She took a few steps forward and crawled onto the bed next to her. “So what do you want to do now?”
“Whatever you want to do is cool with me. We can do anything. I’ll… do anything for you.” Piper’s reply sounded almost like she was intimidated. Mackenzie wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Did she really think she was that beautiful? She knew she had a nice body, but she’d always considered herself rather plain looking. One thing was for certain though. Piper was every bit as in love with Mackenzie as Mackenzie was with Piper.
“Seriously,” Mackenzie began, taking the lead, “You said you’ve never had a girl in your room. What’s something you always fantasized about doing in here?”
“Well,” she swallowed nervously, “I guess I always had this fantasy of being with a girl where we just… I don’t know how to describe it, but sort of like…ignored grossness, I guess? Like if we were watching a movie and cuddling, and one of us needed to take a piss, we’d just do it like it’s no big deal. Or if I’m eating your pussy and you need to fart or take a dump, you just do it like it’s nothing, you don’t even ask or say anything. Or if we’re both eating ice cream together and- Oh shit! We still have ice cream, I almost forgot!” She quickly grabbed the thawing pint of ice-cream and the spoon and placed it between them on the bed. “If we’re eating ice cream and you need to blow your nose, you can just, like, blow snot into the ice cream and we both just keep eating it like we don’t care. Is that… something you’d be into?”
Mackenzie’s realized that the two of them were negotiating consent, and her mind flashed back to the little lecture Piper’s mother had given her earlier about that topic. She wanted to be absolutely clear in her enthusiasm. “Fuck yes I’m into that, Piper. Let’s do that!”
“You know, you hide it well, but you’re a seriously bad-ass bitch, aren’t you?” Piper opened the lid of the vanilla bean ice cream and scooped a dollop from the thawed bit around the edges onto the spoon and offered it to Mackenzie. She opened her mouth to allow Piper to feed her and pursed her lips as she withdrew the utensil. Piper then took a second scoop and ate it herself.
“It’s really good.” Mackenzie commented before an observation dawned on her, “Hey! Wait a second! How come you’re eating that? It hasn’t been in your butt.”
“Yeah it has. See? Green sticker.” Piper turned the container to show her. “That’s how we label stuff that’s mine. Sorry if there are ice crystals in it, it’s dangerous to get an enema with stuff that’s really cold, so I had to thaw it all the way and refreeze it.”
“That’s okay. So green is your favorite color, huh?” Mackenzie asked as the pair of them casually shared a pint of ice-cream that had been squirted out of Piper’s shitter at some indeterminate point in the past.
“Yeah, it’s versatile. I mean, it’s the color of boogers and slime and puke, but green is also, like, the color of nature and money and all this good stuff, too. Brown’s the same way; people think of it like a gross color because their shit’s brown, but so is chocolate and coffee, and soil, and wood, and a lot of really hot girls. So I guess I like green and brown because they’re really pretty colors, but they’re underrated or something, I dunno.”
“And they’re the colors of your eyes.” Mackenzie observed. Back when their relationship was across the table in the psych ward, Mackenzie noticed that Piper’s eyes were different colors. Once they had both worked up the courage to make eye contact with one another, that is. Heterochromia. She’d memorized the word. Piper had one green eye and one brown; though the obscene girl joked that she had a second ‘brown eye,’ before displaying her anus and farting loudly. The hospital workers didn’t approve of the display at the time, but it made Mackenzie giggle, and that was all that mattered to Piper.
Mackenzie felt the dairy-based confection stimulating her mucus production, so she gently took the container from Piper, used a finger to block off one of her nostrils, and with a firm exhalation, shot a large wad of clearish-yellow slime from her nose onto the top of the ice-cream. She took the spoon, and scooped a large measure of the desert, topped with her snot, and popped it casually into Piper’s mouth.
She swallowed with a tight-lipped grin. “That was perfect!” Piper whispered intensely. “I know the whole point is to kinda ignore it, but seriously, that was exactly the way it is in my fantasies. I’m fucking it up now. I’m gonna go back to pretending it’s not a big deal. Do you want to watch something on tv?”
Mackenzie giggled, “Sure!”
She took the remote from the nightstand and turned on the television that sat on top of the dresser. She placed the remote back and picked up a small laptop. It was the only piece of computer equipment in the room outside the large shrine of high-end electronics that had been portioned off by a set of plastic shower-curtains in the corner to the right of the bed. She’d gotten to know Piper well enough to know that when she wasn’t talking about sex and filth, she was talking about computers. That or Alan Turing, whom she idolized and about whom she seemed to know an extraordinary amount.
“Do you want to watch scat porn or anything, or should we just put on something normal?”
“Let’s go with something funny we can just have on in the background while we hang out.” Mackenzie replied.
Piper used the laptop interface to put on a late 2000’s comedy show that they half-watched as they finished the vanilla bean and punk-girl-asshole flavored desert. About ten minutes later, the two naked girls were watching tv and spooning when they heard a grumbling bit of commotion coming from Mackenzie’s gut. Piper, who was being the big spoon at the time, moved her hand down to her tummy and rubbed lovingly.
The red haired girl emitted a whining moan of discomfort. The ice-cream really was making her bowels cramp up. This would be about the time she’d normally go and spend the next half-hour sitting on the toilet, but she felt a certain sense of freedom knowing that her digestive troubles wouldn’t have to interrupt the sleepover. Nor would she have to worry about her legs falling asleep from sitting on the toilet for too long. She managed to let out a small, barely audible bit of gas that did nothing to relieve the pressure, but she could feel her guts churning. There was definitely more coming any minute. Piper could tell, too, as she pulled closer. She pressed the front of her naked hips into Mackenzie’s ass. Her legs were fidgeting a bit, as though she was turned on, which she most likely was. About a minute later she felt a pressure inside her colon. It felt a bit like the fart, but she could tell it was more substantial this time. She let loose with wanton abandon and there was a bit of wet sputtering that was slightly muffled by the barrier of flesh formed by the two women pressed together. She could tell that a few wet chunks of shit had exploded out of her ass and hit Piper in the pussy. A moment later, the bulk of her diarrhea began to erupt. The satiny-wet sound of soft shit correlated with the hot muddy feeling that coated her buttocks and Piper’s crotch. The whole ordeal ended with a few last bits of popping flatulence. Piper responded by moaning gently and kissing her on the neck. Then they went back to watching tv and cuddling, ignoring the hot puddle of feces that was spreading across the bed beneath them.
The bowel movement relieved the discomfort, but she knew from experience that the process would repeat at least a couple more times before her digestive system would be a hundred percent again. She decided she wanted to take advantage of the opportunity. “Hey, Piper. Do you want to lick my pussy?”
“Fuck yeah I do.”
“Okay, you stay there, I’m gonna spin around.” she said. Piper’s eyes lit up. She realized what Mackenzie intended. She was going to maneuver onto the top of a sixty-nine position so that she could shit directly onto Piper’s face as she ate her out. She considered that this might be the first time Piper actually got to experience that. Mackenzie herself got to have the experience of a pretty girl shitting on her face at school a few weeks before, and while she lamented the time Piper had spent institutionalized because of it, she had to admit that it was an exhilaratingly decadent experience.
Mackenzie found herself thinking how unexpected it was that she seemed to be falling a bit into the dominant role with Piper; even more unexpected was the fact that the virginal seeming Christian girl was actually more experienced when it came to lesbian sex.
She felt Piper’s tongue immediately attack her pussy the moment she was in position. There were still some brown streaks caking her ass, but her auburn-haired crotch was still mostly clean. Piper’s cunt, Mackenzie noted as she looked down on it, was a different story. It was still dripping with her excrement. The liquid butt-mud having collected so heavily between her legs that her hairless little slit wasn’t even visible. She wasn’t quite ready to wade through her own filth in order to please Piper orally, and she was becoming distracted by another round of slightly painful clenching in her bowels. She tried to watch tv as Piper’s tongue invaded her cunt, nose pressed firmly against her shitty and soon to be explosive asshole.
Piper was eager, but not yet skillful with regards to cunnilingus. Mackenzie enjoyed the sensation, but the stench of her own filth a few inches beneath was starting to get to be a bit much. She knew she wanted to eventually be like Piper, to be able to chomp down turds like they were hot-dogs at a competitive eating contest, but she’d have a ways to go.
She felt another wet bowel movement pushing to escape her butt, and she did nothing to hold it back. The sensation like hot, chunky water squirting out of her ass preceded the feeling of a more normal brown log escaping from her body. She could tell the first round of chunky liquid shot straight up Piper’s eager nose, but based on the continued eagerness of her tongue, she didn’t seem to mind.
She thought she was finished when a sudden round of nausea hit her. Maybe it was the smell, maybe it was the sight of cooling poop caking Piper’s crotch, or maybe it was the realization that the girl going down on her has a nose-full of her turd-juice, but she found herself gagging.
The contents of her stomach shot up and poured out of her mouth. In an instant the cold shit in Piper’s lap had been replaced with hot puke. The heaving of her stomach stimulated her guts enough that she unleashed another round of partially digested liquid brown with particular force against Piper’s face. She was projectile squirting simultaneously from both ends. Somewhere in all the bodily commotion she half-noticed that she was pissing as well. There were multiple rounds in which her core clenched and filth rocketed out of three orifices at once. In the end, she was spitting out the last bits of phlegm and gastric juice while pathetic little farts signaled the last of her digestive issues. She closed one nostril with her fingers and blew bits of snot-mixed-with-vomit out the other, then repeated the process on the opposite side.
Piper sounded to be doing the exact opposite. She heard the girl behind her sniffing, as though she was trying to snort the scat that filled her nose down the back of her throat to swallow it. She felt the slender girls hands come up reassuringly to her ribs. It seemed like her hands were shaking a bit. “You’re okay, right?” Piper asked, her voice quivering.
“Yeah, I’m fine.” She replied a bit unsteadily. The ordeal had been a bit trying for her physically, and she was mentally a bit overwhelmed.
Based on Piper’s voice, she was overwhelmed too. “Okay!” Piper’s voice was high pitched, her excitement easily could have been mistaken for panic. “That was amazing. Kenzie, that was fucking amazing! You’re a… you’re a motherfucking, incredible-ass, rug-munching, ginger-snatch cunt! You know that? I mean holy cock-sucking, pants-shitting fucking shit!!! Jesus fuck-tits! You’re a goddamn fucking goddess!”
Mackenzie burst out in hysterical laughter and fell over into the slurry of bodily goo that pooled across the bed and was now dripping onto the floor. She hoped Piper wouldn’t be offended, but the frantic string of obscene language just struck her as incredibly funny. When Piper was excited, she was somehow, incredibly, even more of a potty-mouth!
Piper laughed with her for a moment before having a coughing fit. Mackenzie looked back to see the green-haired girl’s face dripping with brown. It seemed that her laughter had caused her to inadvertently inhale a bit of poo, an idea that elicited another round of screaming laughter from Mackenzie.
The clenching feeling in the bottom of her throat still hadn’t totally subsided. Her stomach and head still ached a bit from projectile retching the contents of her stomach all over Piper’s crotch and bed. And as sexy as her mind found the whole situation, her body’s instinctive aversion would take some time to convince. She’d fantasized about doing things like this for years, and while internet porn had prepared her for the sights and sounds, the magnitude of the smell was a bit much for her to take in. The stench of both fresh and stale diarrhea combined with the acidic odor of vomit imposed upon her nose and eyes. She could even taste it in the air.
“Hey, Piper? This is all really sexy, and I’m for sure going to think about this when I masturbate like… forever. But… I mean, I hate to ask, but could we… clean up maybe… ninety percent of this? I mean, I want to get to the point where I can handle-”
“Hey, it’s no big deal!” Piper interjected while wiping some bits of brown goo from around her eyes, “I guess I kinda threw you in the deep end, huh? I’m sorry, I didn’t know you’d get that sick. I mean, it was fucking amazing as a motherfucker, but I don’t want you to feel bad.” She took a moment to formulate a plan for how to proceed. “So tell me what you think of this sequence: You go start taking a shower in my bathroom while I scoop the bulk of the shit and piss and puke into containers, ‘cus I mean, I really wanna save it for later. Then I’ll hop in the shower with you for a minute to clean myself off. Then I’ll grab the wet-vac and clean the rest while you take a bath. I actually have scented oils that’ll make you smell like flowers afterward. Then when you’re done, there’ll just be some residue on the sheets that’s still gonna smell a bit, and parts of the bed are still gonna be kinda sticky, but it won’t be nearly this strong. It’ll just smell kinda like bad farts.”
Mackenzie’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wow, that sounds… really efficient. You have scented bath oil???”
“Well yeah, I mean, it’s cool to smell like shit sometimes, but most people like girls to be clean and smell nice. And there are some dudes I hang out with and play video-games with. I mean, I know they mostly hang out with me ‘cus I let them buttfuck me, but I dunno, maybe part of me wants to be a pretty girl; like you. Or maybe I just like smelling like coconuts and lilac in the morning, and cheese-farts and asparagus-piss at night.” Piper’s eyebrows knitted together in sudden contemplation. “Huh, you know what? I think I just realized that I like all smells. Fuck, I never thought about that before.” She contemplated a moment longer before realizing that Mackenzie was still slowly edging her way to the bathroom on the left side of the room from the bed. “Oh yeah, you go take a shower, and I’ll be there in a minute.”
Mackenzie followed Piper’s suggestion. She noted that the bathroom had a rather normal assortment of shampoos, conditioners, lotions, oils and the like. If anything, Piper’s collection of hygiene products would be enviable to the average girl. It was actually a comfort that Mackenzie hadn’t realized she needed. She had always been fastidious about cleanliness; both of her body and her environment. She didn’t need a psychologist to tell her that the origins of her fascination with filth lie in her almost obsessive-compulsive tidiness.
Deep down, there had been a spark of worry that despite their common fetish, actually building a life with Piper may have been implausible. But those worries had been laid to rest. Piper’s home was crisp and clean. Her bedroom had a bit of clutter around the computer station, but was otherwise neatly organized and tidy. As she peaked out of the shower to see the shit-caked girl using a small squeegee she apparently had stashed somewhere to scrape the slurry of filth neatly into a tupperware container, she realized that they could have a future. At that moment she knew; this was the girl she was going to marry.
Almost forty-five minutes later, Mackenzie came out of the bathroom smelling like roses. The naked and still slightly moist Piper stood eagerly. “I left some residue on the sheets, but if you decide you want everything to be a hundred percent clean, I can change those and put them in the washing machine.”
“It’s okay.” Mackenzie replied with a lovey smile. “It smells sexy in here.” She took deep breath and let out a contented sigh. “I feel better now. Throwing up makes you feel bad. Even though it’s hot.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I should have planned for this better.” Piper gave a contrite smile. “Sorry if I was being kinda selfish by making you eat ice cream so you could fart and shit on me.”
“Piper. Stop apologizing.” Mackenzie was almost surprised to hear such a commanding tone come out of her own mouth.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I- Shit! Sorry. Fuck!” Her contrite smile disappeared and was replaced by genuine anxiety.
Mackenzie felt a little sorry for her. She had always hidden her own kink. So as shy as she was, she still made the occasional friend or acquaintance. But Piper’s in-your-face filth obsession must have made her feel alienated from the rest of the world. As best she could tell, her only friends were men who mostly used her for sex. It was no wonder she seemed a bit desperate to please.
“Okay, take a breath.” Mackenzie stepped forward and held Piper’s pixie-like face in her hands, peering into her green and brown eyes. “From now on, whenever you want to say you’re sorry, just tell me you love me instead. Say ‘I love that you accept me for who I am. I love that you forgive me for my mistakes. I love that you want to be with me no matter what.’ Because I do. And I will. You’re… amazing, Piper. And I’m absolutely, positively in love with you.”
Piper stood blank-faced for a moment. “I… I love you too, Kenzie.”
“Come on. Let’s go to bed. It’s getting late, and I think that’s a nice thought to fall asleep to.”
The two of them crawled beneath the feces and vomit smeared sheets, kissed one another gently, and drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms….
Mackenzie woke up first the next morning. She laid in bed staring at Piper through the mess of green hair that tangled over her face. She watched as her eyes lazily drifted open and turned to meet hers. She yawned and smiled before speaking groggily, “I’ve got to take a monster dump right now.”
Mackenzie giggled and kissed her. “Good morning to you, too!”
Piper slipped out from under the rubbery covers and stood naked, wreathed in the small bit of morning light that peaked through the curtains above the bed. “I’m thirsty, are you thirsty?”
“Mhm. I actually feel a little dehydrated. I probably should have drank something after I threw up last night.”
“Oh fuck, I should have offered you something, I’m sor- I mean… uhh… I love that you put up with the fact that I don’t know how to have guests.” She grinned a bit, proud of herself for remembering Mackenzie’s insistence that she express love rather than regret.
Piper opened the clear shower-curtain to enter the tech corner of the room, the mess of cables and wires running between custom made computers and monitors and various other pieces of plastic and circuitry that Mackenzie couldn’t begin to decipher. She opened a small mini-fridge positioned in the underside of the desk and pulled out one clear bottle and one red one. “I’ve got water and Mountain Dew Code Red.”
“Oh, just the water is fine.”
Piper returned to the bed and handed Mackenzie the clear bottle. She opened the red one herself and took a swig. The scent of artificial cherry flavor briefly overwhelmed the aroma of ass that lingered on the bed and on Piper’s skin. Mackenzie cracked the water and drank a third of it in a few large swallows.
She contemplated for a moment, “Hey, have these been in your ass?”
“Nah, I just do that with stuff I eat. I leave drinks alone. I thought about making it so that everything I eat is something I shat out and everything I drink is something I pissed, but I’m not about to give myself a catheter every day to squirt coffee and soda and juice into my bladder. I tried it once and it kinda hurts, like… kinda a lot. I still drink piss, though. Wanna see?”
Mackenzie groaned adorably and hit Piper gently with a pillow, “How are you this chipper this early in the morning? And also, yes, of course I wanna watch you drink piss.”
Piper laughed as she went to the dresser to retrieve a large green cup from one of the upper drawers. Mackenzie was slowly figuring out that a dish or food being labeled green seemed to indicate it was for Piper only. She watched, as the skinny, naked girl turned her knees out and squatted slightly. A pale yellow liquid poured from between her labia and filled the cup about two thirds of the way. She returned to bed next to Mackenzie and sipped the cup of urine while making casual eye contact with her bed-mate. “Wanna try some?”
Mackenzie nodded. Piper handed her the cup, “Just take a little sip.” she cautioned, “I don’t wanna go overboard again. We have time to help you get used to all this kinda shit.”
She took the cup and smelled it. A relatively normal scent of salty urea. She took a small sip and found it tasted similarly. The acrid taste made her face scrunch a bit. She followed up the sip of Piper’s pee by taking a few delicate swallows from the bottle of clean water. “Thanks for going slow with me, Piper.”
“No problem, babe. Hey, hand me that empty ice-cream container, I’m gonna take a huge dump in it while you watch, okay?”
She handed Piper the container and turned on the bedside lamp to get a better look as Piper turned around and knelt down with her chest pressed onto the top of the bed. She held the container in one hand between her legs; obscenely spread ass proudly displaying her cute, puckered anus. She watched as the muscles in the girl’s lithe abdomen writhed and her shitter opened up. A large, solid log of brown excrement pushed its way out of Piper’s asshole and broke off to plop into the empty container. A slightly softer brown cylinder emerged and kept emerging; it curved down, beginning to coil as it hit the bottom of the container. She realized that Piper’s practiced skill was being utilized to fill the container the same way an ice-cream man would fill a cone with soft-serve. Despite her small size, she managed to fill the container almost all the way to the top with a perfectly tipped swirl.
“Impressive!” Mackenzie remarked.
“I watched some YouTube videos of the techniques people use for soft-serve. It took some practice to get it right at this angle, but I can usually make a pretty nice-looking shit-cup.” She explained as she wiped her ass with her fingers and licked them clean.
Piper grabbed the spoon and sat in bed next to Mackenzie. She began casually eating her own shit from the used ice-cream container as if it actually was soft-serve, occasionally washing it down with a swig from the bottle of red soda.
“Can I try?” Mackenzie asked, stopping Piper in her tracks.
“Are you sure? Just so you know, this thing doesn’t need to be a two way street. If you want to just dump out turds in my mouth every day, and never put your mouth anywhere near me, I’d be a hundred-percent cool with that.”
“I wouldn’t be. I like kissing you. And I don’t feel like you’re pressuring me. I’ve fantasized about eating your shit since the first day we met. I guess I kinda did at the assembly, but mostly I just threw up. I didn’t really get a chance to take my time.”
“Yeah, I… love you for being the kinda girl that enjoyed that crazy-ass prank. Okay, I don’t want you to get sick again, so just have a little.” Piper collected a small spoonful of her own crap and held it out toward Mackenzie.
“I love you, too.” she said before she suddenly took the small scoop of feces into her mouth. She pulled back and felt the slightly warm brown sludge on her tongue. The taste was bitter and earthy; like fermented soil and coffee grounds. With a substantial stretch of the imagination, she could almost convince herself that the turd tasted like unsweetened dark chocolate. She mushed it against the roof of her mouth with her tongue and swallowed. She gagged briefly, but quickly washed most of the taste out of her mouth by downing the rest of her water bottle.
Piper watched with anticipation. Mackenzie took a few deep breaths to make sure that she wasn’t going to throw up, then smiled at Piper. Piper looked excited and hugged her. “I’m so proud of you! Just so you know, that shit was mostly made out of your shit from last night, so you’re kinda gettin’ double shit flavor there. But now that I know for sure you want to do that, I’ll try to do stuff to make it taste better when you come over. Oh! And you should take the antibiotics my mom got for you so that you don’t get sick from that.” She produced the small prescription bottle from a drawer in the nightstand before going back to her mini-fridge to bring another water bottle.
“Thanks,” she said as she downed the first dose of medication. “Hey, Piper? Can I… make a request? It’s okay if you say no, but it’d mean a lot to-”
“I’ll do anything for you, Mackenzie.” The adoration was clear in her voice.
“If I’m going to be… ya know, eating your poop, is there any chance you could… stop eating meat?”
Piper’s cheeks widened into a big, toothy grin. “I already stopped. I knew there was a chance you’d want to do that, and I know you don’t eat meat. I’m not going to have you eat second-hand meat out of my butt.”
The two of them spent most of the rest of the day in bed watching tv. It seemed that the little laptop on the nightstand could set anything she could imagine to play on the screen. Mackenzie wasn’t sure if the Lindeholm household just happened to have a subscription to almost every streaming service, of if Piper was pirating them. She decided that she didn’t particularly care about the answer. She did care about the fact that they seemed to have more in common than she would have thought. They both liked Star Trek, and spent a good portion of the day revisiting favorite episodes. Their taste in comedy shows was similar; and Mackenzie found herself genuinely enjoying being a cheerleader for Piper as she played video games. Mackenzie was more into horror movies than Piper, who got scared easily, but claimed she could tolerate them as long as she could bury her face between Mackenzie’s boobs during the scary parts.
Toward the end of the day, the two of them worked together to clean the last of the filth from the room as Mackenzie prepared to depart that evening. She wished that she could stay forever, but a part of her also wanted to get home to Saturday-evening dinner with her family, where she could tell them a heavily censored version of her adventures with her new girlfriend. Plus, she enjoyed the weekly family ritual of Sunday morning breakfast, followed by church.
She was saying her last goodbyes and thank-yous to Piper and her mother, when Piper blurted out a question randomly.
“Hey, should I shave my head again by Monday? Like, do you want to see my tattoos at school?”
Piper’s hairstyle had been a bit neglected during the few weeks in the mental hospital. The formerly bare sides of her head that read “Potty Mouth” and “Ass 2 Mouth 4 Life” were now mostly obscured by a dense stubble of golden-blonde hair.
Miss Lindeholm stood behind Piper, making intensely wide eye-contact with Mackenzie and pleadingly shaking her head in tense little gestures.
“Well… I think your hair is really pretty, and, I dunno, maybe the tattoos can be just something that you and me know about.”
Piper’s mother made a silent sigh of relief and mouthed ‘thank you’ at Mackenzie.
“Okay,” she began, rubbing the side of her head, “I guess I can grow it out for now. Least I can do is try to look pretty for you.”
Mackenzie didn’t fully understand the comment until they passed each other in the hall Monday at school. Piper kept her eyes downcast, only raising them briefly to flash a subtle knowing smile at Mackenzie before proceeding on her way as if they were strangers.
Mackenzie wheeled around to catch up and glomped Piper with a big hug from behind. “Hey, pretty girl! You aren’t even going to say hi to me?”
Piper looked panicked, she spoke in a rapid whisper, “Kenzie! You can’t hang around me at school! People are gonna… see you! With me!”
A flash of anger stirred in Mackenzie’s heart. Not directed at Piper, but at the society that made her feel that she needed to protect Mackenzie from mockery by pretending to be strangers.
Her face turned stern. “Piper! I don’t care what anyone thinks.” She began to speak a bit more loudly in the crowded hall to make her point, “You’re my girlfriend and we’re in love. I feel sorry for anyone who thinks they need to make fun of someone because of who they choose to spend their life with.”
Piper continued to fret for a while, but eventually acquiesced; she still seemed a little nervous. They spent a lot of time together in school, but Piper always preferred to spend it away from other students who may be compelled to comment on Mackenzie’s choice of partner. In fact, most of the time, the two of them spent their lunch period in the out-of-the-way bathroom where they’d first met. They occasionally did unspeakably filthy things when they could be sure they would have privacy in a stall, but mostly, they just held hands and talked about their lives.
Mackenzie’s parents eventually had Piper and her mother over to their home for dinner; something that both girls stressed about on account of Piper’s inadvertent compulsion to be vulgar. Piper’s mother seemed uncharacteristically cavalier about the whole thing, as though she had a secret plan to ensure the evening went well. Which, as it turns out, she did! Almost as soon as the two of them walked in the door, Miss Lindeholm dominated the conversation by praising them for the way they reconciled their Christian faith with their daughter’s homosexuality, which she segued into offhandedly mentioning a project that Piper had done a few years before about her personal hero and gay icon, Alan Turing. That had apparently set things in motion, as Piper spent the rest of the evening excitedly lecturing everyone present about the life and legacy of the father of modern computer science, along with far too many details about computer science itself. Mackenzie’s family was too polite to stop her multi-hour soliloquy, but left the evening believing that their daughter’s new sweetheart was an exceptionally bright and spirited young lady whose odd behavior at the school assembly had been an isolated incident.
A few weeks later, Piper had grown more comfortable spending time with Mackenzie in the more public areas of the school. At one point a large boy from the football team had approached them, mockingly inviting Piper and Mackenzie to a party they were throwing… as the toilets. Piper initially accepted the invitation happily, not realizing the boy was making fun of them. When Mackenzie explained, she seemed disappointed. She didn’t become angry until the boy continued piling on, and when he called Mackenzie a ‘retard’ she attacked him. The ninety-six pound girl was about as effective as one would expect against the two-hundred-forty pound linebacker; the fight ended about two seconds after it began with Piper lying in the dirt with a split lip. Despite being the one bleeding, she still seemed much more worried about Mackenzie.
The boy was suspended for a week, a penalty that Piper’s mother thought was insultingly low. Though it seemed karma was on their side, as the boy was arrested soon after when hundreds of gigabytes of brutal pornography featuring a ten-year-old girl named Darla was found on his personal computer. Mackenzie had a sneaking suspicion that Piper was responsible, but being as she wasn’t sure she wanted to know just how far Piper would go to defend her, she never asked.
A few weeks before graduation, Mackenzie proposed in the bathroom where they’d first met. It was the first time she’d ever seen Piper cry.
That summer, the two of them found an apartment and moved in together near the university that Piper would be attending in the Fall. Mackenzie decided that she wanted to take some time off and figure out what she wanted to do with her life. The two of them often joked that Mackenzie was preparing for a life as Piper’s trophy wife.
Life was good; and the strange and depraved story of Piper and Mackenzie’s ‘Happily Ever After’ was just beginning…
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Potty-Mouth Piper (part 2, repost)
CONTENT WARNING: This story focuses on filth-fetishism, and will have substantial amounts of scat, piss, flatulence, snot, menstrual play, and just about every dirty thing I can think of. If that kind of thing isn’t your cup of tea, I suggest you skip this one. I have multiple stories in the works that feature completely different categories of fetishism.
(Part of the Pervert Pentet Series)
Chapter 1, part 1
Mackenzie spent the rest of the day with her mind focused on Piper. Each class she went to, she hoped to see the shit-eating girl. She kept her eyes open for the green mohawk. She had no idea what she’d say if she saw her again, she just knew that she wanted to look.
She wondered how she had known the cheerleader would be in the bathroom, had she snuck laxatives into her food? That must have been it. Piper knew that the girl would probably use the most private bathroom if she intended to make a stink, that’s why she was waiting there. Mackenzie wondered how much planning had actually gone into Piper’s little “prank.”
She started fantasizing about the two of them dating, what that would be like. Would we eat each others shit or would Piper want all of it? Maybe Piper could eat both of our shit and then vomit it back into my mouth! Mackenzie thought, giddy with excitement. She had romantic fantasies about them getting married. She thought about the two of them getting a cat together. Maybe Piper would force me to clean the litter box with my mouth! Maybe when I need to get up early, Piper could fart loudly into my face instead of an alarm clock. If she gets a cold, I wonder if she’ll use my tongue as a tissue. Maybe our menstrual cycles would sync up! Then we could make tea with each others used tampons! How romantic!
Unfortunately, Mackenzie didn’t come across the delightfully disgusting girl for the rest of the day. Upon arriving home, she did her homework and chores, then headed straight for her room to spend the rest of the night masturbating. She opened up her computer and watched her favorite videos. As always, she imagined herself as the girls in the videos, but this time, she imagined Piper alongside her. She watched, as in her mind, her and Piper sniffed each others farts directly from one another’s assholes. As Piper filled her mouth with shit before making out with her passionately. As Piper pulled up her skirt in public and made Mackenzie kneel down to drink her piss in front of a crowd. She watched herself lick snot from Piper’s nose, and watched as a syringe of liquefied feces was squirted up her own nose.
She hoped that soon she’d be able to share this collection of obscene videos with the girl she admired. Mackenzie slipped a few fingers into her own ass as she watched them. After orgasming for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, she withdrew the digits from her anus and looked at them. A wet brown streak adorned her fingers, she brought it to her nose to inhale the foul stench deeply. A thought crossed her mind. Could she…. put it in her mouth? Could she behave with the obscene boldness of Piper and eat her own shit? She opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue. She hesitated for a few moments. Her heart raced with the excitement at doing something so dirty.
No, she thought as she grabbed a tissue and cleaned her fingers, it’s not that I can’t do it, it’s just that I want Piper’s shit to be the first that’s ever in my mouth.
With that, the red-headed girl changed into her plain, off-white nightgown and went to sleep.
Mackenzie spent most of the next day searching for Piper in the halls between classes. At lunch time she planned to head to the same bathroom to see if she’d be waiting again. But before she had a chance to, she saw the green mohawk disappear into the cafeteria. She quickly followed behind. She managed to get into the cafeteria line only a few places behind Piper. She was close enough to talk to her, but she was too nervous to say a word. Instead she just stared in awe, hoping she wouldn’t get caught looking.
From this angle, she managed to see the other side of Piper’s head. She had another tattoo, opposite the “Potty Mouth” one she’d seen earlier. This one labeled her with the words “Ass 2 Mouth 4 Life” the last two words beneath the top three. Mackenzie had worried that perhaps her expectations for Piper were too high, but now she was certain that this girl was everything she dreamed of and more!
She stared as Piper retrieved a hot dog, then paid the lunch-lady for it. Mackenzie was so mesmerized, she forgot to even put anything on her tray. When she reached the end of the line, she simply blushed and hurried off to find a seat from which she could stare at her new infatuation.
She sat down just as she saw Piper making her way decisively across the cafeteria. Following her gaze, she saw the cheerleader from the bathroom the other day; there was a decent sized group around her, mostly male.
“Hey, cheer-tits! How’s it going?” Piper said, forcing her way between the cheerleader and the girl sitting to her left. Finding space wasn’t difficult; the girl next to her recoiled with a look of disgust as soon as she saw Piper trying to squeeze in. The cheerleader, unfortunately for her, didn’t have the chance to scoot away; Piper had wrapped her arm around the girls shoulder like an overly-friendly drunk.
“Piper, I swear to fucking god…” the cheerleader said in a low voice, partially threatening, but mostly pleading.
Seemingly ignoring the girl’s comment, she addressed the boys around her, “Hey, so you guys gonna hit her in the shitter after school today?”
“What?” one of the boys replied, seemingly amazed by her vulgarity.
“Ya know, put your fuck-sticks in her fart-cannon, pound her in the poop chute.” she looked around for a moment to a group of smiling but silent young men, before finally clarifying, “Butt sex!”
The cheerleader scrunched her face in horror and disgust, wishing the vulgar little punk would just leave her alone. “I don’t do that.” she finally replied with a superior tone, hoping to reassert her dominance over the situation, “Only whores do anal, Piper. Whores like you.”
Piper seemed indifferent to the attempted insult, “Seriously? I could have sworn I tasted some jizz when you shit in my mouth yesterday. Have you just been gobbling so much cock-snot that it’s flavoring your turds or something?”
“That didn’t happen!” the cheerleader announced to the group of boys who were making little effort to conceal their amusement.
“Sure it did. I think we even had a witness…” she trailed off as she twisted to begin searching the room. Mackenzie’s heart started to pound as Piper’s gaze finally landed on her. “Oh, hey firecrotch!” she called over, “you remember when I chugged diarrhea from cheer-tits’s asshole yesterday, right?”
Mackenzie’s skin tingled at the acknowledgement; she was too shy to vocalize anything more than a timid squeak, but the tightly pursed grin indicated how pleased she was for Piper’s attention. She managed an enthusiastic little nod, only meeting Pipers eyes for a second before demurely looking down again.
“See? Firecrotch over there remembers.” As she spoke, Piper took the hot dog from its bun and, with a sideways lean, casually sodomized herself with it. A couple of boys on the other side of the table stood up to see if she was really doing what it looked like she was doing. After a few quick thrusts and turns she removed the wiener from her anus and put it back into the split piece of bread.
“Did you just put that in your butt??” One of the boys asked.
“Ass to mouth for life, baby!” she replied, tapping the tattoo above her left ear before taking a large bite. She chewed and swallowed, before her eyebrows pulled together in a look of mild discomfort. “Uhh! Mustard kinda hurts in the butthole. I should have gotten ketchup.”
She stood, to the immense relief of the cheerleader who’d been silently praying that her tormentor would finally leave her alone. “I’m gonna look for some napkins or something to clean out my shitter.”
Piper left her tray, but took the hot-dog, which she continued to eat as she walked. She grabbed a few napkins and proceeded to the exit, turning back at the last moment and locking eyes with Mackenzie from across the room. She smiled and winked, as if to say I notice you. Mackenzie’s heart fluttered; Piper saw.
With that, she was gone. Mackenzie didn’t see her again for the rest of the day.
That night was a repeat of the previous one, with Mackenzie masturbating furiously to scat and filth porn, romanticizing the future she could have with Piper. As the post-orgasmic haze waned, she realized she had mixed feelings about the day. She found watching Piper thrilling. However, even though she had multiple opportunities to talk with her; she squandered them all. Piper was bold, fearless; what could a timid girl like Mackenzie do to get her attention? To really get her attention. Not just a glance as she was leaving the cafeteria to clean mustard out of her asshole. Mackenzie giggled aloud at the memory.
She thought for a few moments. The idea of asking her on a date appeared in her mind. Mackenzie rejected it, knowing that while it was an appealing thought, her timidity would never allow her to articulate it. Recalling that there was a pep rally the following day, Mackenzie decided that she would look for Piper, and ask if she could sit next to her. It seemed simple enough; “May I sit with you?” Only five words, she could do this!
She practiced in her head for the rest of the night. Mackenzie knew it was silly to practice a single sentence over and over again, but she hoped by replaying it enough times, she’d have the courage to actually say it aloud.
The next morning was relatively ordinary for Mackenzie; she got out of bed at the first alarm, made her bed, headed to the bathroom to shit and piss, washed her hands while taking special care to clean under her fingernails before breakfast, ate two toaster waffles plus two eggs and a glass of orange juice, brushed her teeth for two and a half minutes, showered while taking special care to clean behind her ears and between her toes, stepped out of the shower to clean inside her ears with a q-tip, before finally dressing, fixing her hair, and grabbing her backpack as she walked out the door to school.
The school day seemed to inch along second-by-second, the only relief came during fourth-period just after lunch. That’s when Mackenzie had Physical Education. She enjoyed that class, not for the often tedious games and exercises, though she didn’t especially object to them, but for the sight and smells of her classmates.
The coaches had the class run the mile that day, circling the outer perimeter of the school to make up the distance. While her running speed was middling, she always rather delighted in seeing some of the other girls dripping with sweat. A particularly heavy blond girl trudged along panting, there was barely a dry spot on her. Mackenzie imagined stealing the girl’s panties after class, wringing out her ass-sweat into a glass and drinking it. This was the kind of girl who was obviously teased for her appearance, but Mackenzie wished that it was possible for the girl to know how sexy she thought she was. If given half a chance she would lick the black gunk from between her toes, suck the perspiration from her armpit hair, motorboat her slick acne-ridden ass.
These thoughts were typical for Mackenzie, she’d been having them for years. They had previously provided some of the material for her spank-bank, but they generally faded from her mind as soon as the next period began, only to be revisited in the privacy of her bedroom each night. Piper, on the other hand, was an obsession.
Fifth period was algebra, which Mackenzie thought was dull. She only found excitement in the prospect that in place of sixth period would be the school assembly where she’d try to sit next to Piper. She actually gasped as the bell rang, both with excitement and nervousness.
She made her way to the gymnasium where other students were already beginning to crowd into the bleachers. She took a seat in the middle of the third row, only a few feet from the front, and began to look around for an axe-shaped formation of green hair jutting from a tattooed pink scalp.
After a few minutes she started getting discouraged; additionally, there were some other students who had decided to sit on either side of her, blocking her in. One of the coaches had just begun speaking when she finally saw the dark emerald colored mohawk appear. Beneath it was Piper, wearing a baggy black sweatshirt over her too-short skirt.
Damn it! She thought, They’ve already started, I can’t get up to go and sit by her now!
Piper scanned the crowd; eventually, her eyes met with Mackenzie and she smiled and began walking forward. She’s coming to sit with me! Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! I didn’t plan for this! What do I say? What do I do?
Piper came up the aisle and began side-stepping through the crowded row toward her; awkward little steps that one has to make when trying not to trample the feet of those already seated. Mackenzie watched as she came closer and closer; there was a bit of space just next to her where Piper could sit. To her surprise, Piper instead stepped up onto the bench next to her instead of sitting down. Oh, of course, she thought, crestfallen. She’s obviously climbing up to sit with one of her real friends behind me. Her hurt turned to confusion when, instead of climbing up, Piper stepped over her. Her feet straddled Mackenzie’s lap; she looked up to see that Piper had pulled up the back of her skirt and bent forward. Her jaw dropped open as she was now inches away from Piper’s tight pink anus.
A loud fart preceded a torrent of chunky brown slime by a fraction of a second. Piper’s asshole exploded with chunks of shit, the first shooting into Mackenzie’s still gaping mouth. She was blinded a moment later by a torrent of liquid feces. She heard a commotion around her as the other students darted away from the scene. The hot stink made her want to gasp for air, but given that her nose and mouth were flooded with Piper’s diarrhea, it only resulted in her coughing, gagging, and then vomiting.
She couldn’t see, but was astonished that the stream seemed to still be coming. It coated her hair and face with a heavy, wet bulk, and was now pouring onto her chest and lap. Finally, she heard the sound of a few pops of gas as the last few flecks shot onto her face, and it seemed to be over.
Mackenzie was still gagging and coughing, trying frantically to wipe the warm brown filth from her face. After several seconds, she was able to open her eyes to see Piper being held down and handcuffed by a man shouting at her in that angry-yet-controlled tone of voice that every police officer has. She was picked up roughly and perp-walked out of the gymnasium.
An older female teacher approached Mackenzie, though not too closely, and told her to stay where she was. Her tone seemed almost frantic; a few seconds later a younger male approached her with a stack of towels. He handed them to her at arms-length, not wanting to enter the perimeter of filth that had Mackenzie at its epicenter. She stood and looked down to see herself coated in an astonishing amount of shit; it had pooled around her. For a brief moment, she thought that with her red hair, she must look like the titular character at the end of a scat-themed porn parody of “Carrie.”
She began using towels to wipe herself off. Her face came relatively clean, but Piper’s shit still coated her hair and clothing. She did the best she could, leaving a large pile of white towels, now coated in brown. She heard the school staff discussing among themselves; eventually deciding to lead Mackenzie to the girl’s locker room to shower while someone found her some new clothes from the Lost-and-Found. This was repeated to her as explanation and she followed the older female teacher as she led her to the locker room adjacent to the gymnasium.
About forty-five minutes later, she found herself sitting in the principal’s office with damp hair, wearing a black graphic t-shirt and oversized gym shorts. She was informed that her parents had been called and that her father was on the way.
She’d hardly had time to process what had happened due to all the fuss. What Piper did, while surprising, was far from the trauma everyone seemed to act like it was. The most traumatic part was seeing her handcuffed and dragged away. Mackenzie adored her, now more than ever. She actually felt elated that Piper cared enough to arrange the stunt. The amount of liquefied feces was far more than what a girl her size could naturally produce in a day; she must have saved it up and pumped it into her ass as an enema. Knowing that Piper had gone home the previous day and thought about her, had actually planned for her; Mackenzie couldn’t have asked for more.
Her father finally arrived and entered the office. He immediately asked Mackenzie how she was doing. She assured him that she was fine; that everyone was making far too big a deal of it. Her father was a kind man with a gentle voice. His disposition was often compared to Mr. Rogers, and for good reason. He and Mackenzie’s mother brought her up in a progressive Christian household; teaching her that the only thing anyone should be ashamed of was being hateful. They’d even begun taking her to charity events for LGBT+ youths around the time Mackenzie started showing hints of being gay. She never officially “came out” to her parents, they just eventually realized that her gender preferences were different from most girls, and “there’s nothing wrong with being different,” they told her. Still, she held back her more taboo interests.
Only a few moments after her father arrived, a pretty blonde woman entered the office. She was introduced as Piper’s mother, Mrs. Lindeholm.
“Miss Lindeholm,” she corrected. This woman had the air of a controlling business executive one might see in a movie about investment banking. “I want to start off by apologizing for what my daughter did. I will obviously be paying for any cleaning costs associated with the incident, both to the school and the victim.” She sat and addressed Mackenzie and her father directly, “I understand that you may be considering pressing criminal charges against my daughter.” Her tone softened, “I would like you to understand that Piper has a history of… problems with regards to how she interacts with other people. It seemed that she was improving enough to attend public school but an incident like this was… Well it’s not something I anticipated. She’s never done anything so public before. I’m told your name is Mackenzie?”
She nodded. Miss Lindholm then took her hand and looked into her eyes.
“I’m very sorry for what my daughter did to you, Mackenzie. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”
This woman was obviously practiced in taking command of a situation. She was, in truth, a bit overwhelming. Mackenzie thought for a moment and summoned the courage to speak, “I… I don’t want to press charges or anything. I just want to be sure Piper is okay. I don’t think anything bad should happen to her. I mean… the whole thing isn’t a big deal. She just… I mean… she just pooped. Everyone poops.”
Miss Lindeholm smiled at the remark, her face showed equal parts relief and amusement. “I’m very glad to hear you say that. You’re a very kind girl, Mackenzie.”
“So what’s going to happen to Piper?”
“Well, given that she’s backslid quite a bit, I’m going to have her stay in a psychiatric hospital for a time. She’ll be well cared for. She’s also likely going to be suspended for a period of time that I’ll be discussing with your principal shortly.”
“She’s going to be expelled, Mrs. Lindeholm.” the principal interjected.
The woman gave a brief side-eyed glare at the slender, balding man; as if to say We’ll see about that.
She pulled an index card from her pocket and handed it to Mackenzie’s father, “This is my contact information. Please send me the bill for any cleaning services or anything else associated with the incident. I’d even be happy to buy Mackenzie a brand-new outfit. Unless the principal has anything further to discuss with you, I imagine you’d like to get home and get on with your day.”
They turned to the principal who nodded his consent for them to leave. They heard an echo of Miss Lindeholm’s sharp tongue laying into the principal as they walked down the hall.
The next day, Mackenzie elected not to go to school. She was worn out from the previous day’s incident, and even more so from the marathon masturbation session that took up the majority of her evening.
Finally knowing that her interest in Piper was reciprocated, she texted Miss Lindeholm, asking if it would be possible for her to visit Piper in the mental hospital. Mackenzie had tasted Piper’s shit for what she hoped would be the first of many times; she figured it was about time they had their first conversation. Miss Lindeholm texted back, giving the address of the hospital, and even giving instructions on how to get to the psych ward. She obviously wanted to accommodate her request, still fearing that Mackenzie may decide to press charges after all.
She briefly dipped into her father’s home office to let him know that she was going to be visiting a friend in the hospital for a little while (though not clarifying which one), and after a brief exchange, she was off.
Less than twenty minutes later she arrived at the hospital. She spoke to the receptionist and after a brief wait, was led in to meet Piper.
For some reason, the anxiety that had previously plagued her was pointedly absent. She entered a large room sparsely populated by bored looking people in drab pajamas. There were a number of round tables; atop one was what appeared to be an abandoned game of dominos.
As they approached Piper, Mackenzie saw her formerly proud mohawk hanging in a bedraggled mess around her face. Her eyes looked down with a concerned focus at the puzzle pieces on the table in front of her; rather than using them to form a picture, she had merely organized them into neat piles based on their shape and color.
“Piper Lindeholm, you have a visitor.”
Piper seemed startled, having apparently been engrossed in her task of categorizing puzzle pieces. She looked up to see Mackenzie, then looked down with an expression of shame.
“Oh… umm… hi.” was all she said.
Mackenzie sat down and scooted her chair next to the disheveled girl. “Hi, Shit-Pipe. You, said you like to be called that, back when we first met. I’m Mackenzie.” She spoke in a sweet, soft voice.
Piper just stared down at her puzzle pieces.
“Whatcha doing?” Mackenzie asked
“Umm, there are six pieces missing. There’s supposed to be two hundred, but there are only one-hundred-ninety-four. I found one earlier, but it’s still missing six. Umm… Jesus fuck, you don’t care about my puzzle. I’m really sorry about what I did to you. I don’t know why I did it, I guess I just thought… that you liked me or something? And I guess it was like, you know when little boys pull the pretty girl’s hair because they like her and they don’t know what else to do? It was like that, I guess.”
Mackenzie blushed, “You think I’m pretty?”
Piper looked up at her briefly before looking down again with an awkward smile. “I mean, yeah, of course I do. You’re a fuckin’ knockout. Shit, I’d crawl across a field of broken glass just to sniff a pair of panties you farted in.”
Mackenzie laughed, “I’d say the same thing about you, but it doesn’t seem like you wear panties.” They laughed together this time.
Piper’s posture slackened somewhat, “When I saw you, I thought you were here to ‘save my soul’ or something. My mom said your family is like super Christian.”
“Well, yeah, I mean we kinda are. By the way, your mom is really cool.”
“Right?? I know I do some pretty fucked up shit, but she tries really hard for me.”
“I could tell.” Mackenzie wore a huge smile. She was actually having a conversation with Piper! “So… how did you start, being you?”
“What like my ‘origin story?’” Piper curled her fingers into air quotes as she spoke. “Fuck me, where do I start?” Her eyebrows scrunched as she looked off into the distance for a few seconds. “Okay, I guess I started saying and doing really inappropriate shit in middle school. Well, actually it was before that, but I think they tolerated it more ‘cuz I was so young. I used to try really hard to make friends with people and to not say really weird shit that made people… like, change?”
The expression on Mackenzie’s face said she needed elaboration.
“Okay,” Piper continued, “You know how you’re going along and talking to someone and you’re fuckin’ around playing games or talking about teachers or whatever? And everything seems fine, but then you say something and then all of a sudden it seems like they don’t like you. They’re mad, or grossed out, or they just start acting really uncomfortable, and sometimes they make fun of you.”
“You talked about things like eating poo?”
“Well, not at first. Like in sixth or seventh grade I had this best friend. And she just got a dog, so we were playing with the dog, and it was a female, so I wanted to look at her pussy. I was just curious if a dog’s pussy looked like mine. But everyone got really mad at me when I said that and tried to look. I don’t really know why, though. It’s not like I was hurting the dog by looking at it. She stopped being friends with me after that. It’s not even the first time something like that happened. So I guess around that time, I figured that I can try to be normal, but if I do that, then I’ll have to be constantly scared that I’m going to say or do something that’ll make people change and suddenly start hating me. So I figured I can say and do weird, gross shit one-hundred percent of the time and that way, at least I know how people are going to react, so I don’t need to be scared of messing up. Oh, and when I was eleven, I spied on my mom at work and she was peeing in a guys mouth, so after that I got curious and started drinking and eating piss and shit, respectively. My mom’s a dominatrix, by the way.”
Mackenzie was a bit taken aback by Piper’s candid, stream-of-consciousness confession. “Wow, umm, I’m sorry that people were mean to you. But I really like who you are now. I, uhh, I didn’t start quite as early as you. I only started looking at porn a few years ago, and I only started getting really into scat porn after ninth grade. So I, I kinda always fantasized about meeting a girl like you. I’ve actually been thinking about you every night since we met. I mean, I think about you during the day, too. It’s just that at night, I think about you when I… umm, when I, touch myself.”
Piper stared with a slack-jawed smile briefly, “Are you shittin’ me, fire-crotch? You’re seriously into me, like as-is. You know my hair was held up mostly by my own snot.”
“Really?” she giggled timidly, “That’s so sexy.”
“I put my toothbrush up my ass every single night before I brush my teeth.” she challenged
“Can you do that to mine, too?”
Piper still seemed skeptical of the starry-eyed redhead.
“I save my own shit in a container in my room so I can eat it later. I do that with dog-shit I find lying around, too. Actually, I blended that all up, squirted it up my ass, and shat it all onto your face in front of the whole school, yesterday! You’re seriously saying you’re into me after that. Like into me, into me; like you seriously want to date me.” Her tone was unbelieving, as though challenging Mackenzie to convince her that there was really someone who could love her for who she is.
“Maybe I’ll start saving my shit in containers, too. Maybe we can even trade. Or you can just shit in my mouth again, like yesterday. I’ll try not to gag and throw up so much next time. I… hope that there’s going to be a next time?”
The two of them stared at each other for a long time, each of them couldn’t believe that the other one was real. Without knowing it, the same sentiment went through both of their minds, I can’t believe that someone like her actually likes someone like me.
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Potty-Mouth Piper (part 1, repost)
(Part of the Pervert Pentet Series)
Chapter 1, part 1
WARNING: This story focuses on filth-fetishism, and will have substantial amounts of scat, piss, flatulence, snot, menstrual play, and just about every dirty thing I can think of. If that kind of thing isn’t your cup of tea, I suggest you skip this one. I have multiple stories in the works that feature completely different categories of fetishism.
Mackenzie had just turned eighteen and had recently transferred to a new high school. Despite being rather pretty, she tended to go relatively unnoticed. She had dark red hair that hung flatly down to her mid-back, and ivory skin that she never adorned with makeup. She was on the slim side, but took pride in the fact that she had rather pretty breasts, a bit more full than would be expected from her frame. Not that anyone ever saw them, her plain and somewhat modest clothing saw to that.
While rather timid in real life, her online activities were anything but. She had discovered internet pornography at a relatively young age, and her curiosity led her, over the years, to pursue greater and greater levels of filth. In her younger days, she was satisfied merely to watch videos of women urinating, but her tastes evolved from there to piss-drinking, fart porn, vomit, spit, snot, and of course, scat. The idea of “dirty women” captivated her. Her interest primarily centered on images and videos in which a woman was on the receiving end. She often imagined herself taking the place of the women.
Sadly, her shyness and modesty kept her from actualizing her fantasies. She had tasted her own urine once, and for days afterward had feared that someone would discover the shameful thing she had done. She wished that she could be as bold and shameless as the women she looked at online. She fantasized that someday she’d find a women who somehow knew what she wanted without her ever having to say it, someone who could elicit a passion in her that was so irresistible that it left her inhibitions shattered.
Little did she know that today was the day her fantasy would become flesh.
She didn’t really mind that her parents moved often. She was forced to change schools multiple times, but it’s not as if she ever made friends anyway. The first day at this new school was much like the others. She quietly kept to herself, and when lunch-time rolled around she made her way to the bathroom to avoid having to interact with any of the other students.
She always tried to find the least-used bathroom, usually the one farthest from the cafeteria and common areas. If she was lucky she could go an entire lunch period without having to see another person.
When the lunch bell rang, she made her way through the halls, trying to avoid attention until she reached her bathroom sanctuary. She finally made her way there, opening the door and putting her purse on the counter.
A confident voice from behind her made her jump, “Hey fire-crotch, what’s your deal? You new here?”
She turned around to face the girl who spoke. As she laid eyes on the young woman, her heart felt it was clamped in a vice.
She was both awed and shocked at the vision she saw before her. The deep green mohawk caught her attention first. Her hair fully shaved on both sides. The right side of her head adorned with a tattoo reading “Potty Mouth” in a vomit-looking punk rock font. Her pretty face had delicate features, and other than the generous amount of eyeliner, she wore no makeup. A short leather jacket and tiny tattered black t-shirt covered her torso. She was skinny, with minimal body-fat hiding the taut muscles of her youthful abdomen. Her tall black boots contrasting with the exceptionally short red-plaid skirt, barely long enough to cover her ass.
Mackenzie wanted to speak, but felt intimidated by the extreme looking girl in front of her. She decided to quickly turn around and pretend to be looking at something in her purse. The wet sound of her chewing gum was the only sound in the room for a few seconds.
“Don’t talk much, huh? That’s all right, I’m sure you’ll open your dick-holster when you’ve got something to say.” the punk-rock girl said.
Mackenzie thought, did she just call my mouth a dick-holster???
“Anyway, I’m doin’ a thing in here. Feel free to stick around, should be a good show. I’m Piper, by the way, feel free to call me Shit-Pipe.”
My god! thought Mackenzie, can this girl go five seconds without saying something vulgar?
As much as Mackenzie wanted to be judgemental, inwardly she was exhilarated by the idea of this shameless classmate of hers.
She glanced in the mirror to see Piper removing some cable ties from her backpack and fastening them on the handles of the stall doors, seemingly blocking access to the toilets for anyone who might happen to come in.
The two girls waited in silence for a couple of minutes, Mackenzie glancing at Piper’s reflection in the mirror. Each time she checked, it appeared that the girl was chewing gum with an appreciative smile as she stared intently at Mackenzie’s ass.
Just then the door burst open and a pretty blonde cheerleader rushed in. She yanked the door to one stall, then another.
“Piper! What did you do?” the cheerleader yelled exasperatedly.
“Hey, who says it was me?” Piper replied with a confident-yet-sarcastic smile “Maybe I just heard that the toilets were out of order and thought it was a chance to volunteer my special services as a shit receptacle.”
Mackenzie perked up. Did she really just hear what she thought she heard?
“Oh my god, Piper, what the fuck? I know what people say about you, but you’re not really into that, are you?” the cheerleader asked as she danced about with one hand holding her ass.
“Hey, looks like you don’t have much of a choice.” Piper said as a grumble emanated from the cheerleaders stomach, “You can either shit your panties or shit in my mouth.”
“Stop fucking around and open the door, I really, REALLY have to go!” the cheerleader exclaimed.
Piper pulled the piece of gum from her mouth and lifted one leg as she inserted it, like a suppository, into her own anus. She then dropped to her knees and opened her mouth wide, sticking out her tongue obscenely.
“Oh my god! I can’t believe this. You’re so fucking nasty.” the cheerleader said. Accepting the fact that she had no choice, she scrunched up her face in disgust and turned around.
Piper wasted no time, immediately lifting up the back of the cheer-girls skirt and yanking down her panties. She thrust her open mouth between the girls butt cheeks before reaching around and giving a good squeeze to the girls lower abdomen.
Mackenzie watched in the mirror, transfixed on the vision behind her. A loud fart, muffled by Pipers mouth echoed through the restroom. A loud rhythmic swallowing sound could be heard as Piper chugged the blonde girl’s diarrhea. A few seconds of this passed before the sound turned to muffled, sputtering flatulence as the shit exploded directly into the walls of the green-haired girls mouth. Apparently a new stream of feces began to flow, as she once again heard the loud chugging noise, though this time it was periodically interrupted by a wet chewing.
While Mackenzie didn’t have the best vantage point, she thought she observed a trail of brown slime drip from Piper’s chin before a few drops landed on the firm, pale skin of her stomach.
After several seconds, the mortified cheerleader finally pulled away. She waddled toward the paper towels next to the sink, her panties still around her knees.
“Hey, you didn’t even give me a chance to clean you up. I can put a real spit-shine on that turd-cutter of yours!” Piper called in a mocking tone from across the room, the cheerleaders brown ass-slime still dripping from her chin.
The blond girl quickly wiped with a paper towel before pulling her panties up and rushing out of the bathroom.
Piper gathered up the shit from her chin with her finger and licked it clean, she repeated the process a few more times, making sure to get every drop. She then looked down and scooped the two dollops of cheerleader diarrhea from her tummy and swallowed those down as well.
“Bitches just don’t appreciate good customer service, eh fire-crotch?” Piper asked.
Mackenzie still just stared down at her purse, her heart racing with excitement at what she just saw. She never imagined that this was something she would just come across in her everyday life.
“Oh, hey where are my manners? Do you need to squirt a turd, too? ‘cuz I still got plenty of room in here” Piper said, slapping her flat belly.
“Nnn…. na… no.” Mackenzie replied shaking nervously. This girl was a dream come true, and she had no idea how to act.
“Hey, well I’ll be around if you change your mind,” Piper said before turning around and sticking her leg up onto the sink right next to her. She bent over and looked up at Mackenzie from between her legs. The shy girl actually turned her head to look down at the girl in the obscene pose, her skirt having ridden up to expose her tight pink asshole. Piper looked up at her as she dug her finger into her sphincter and retrieved the piece of gum she’d stored there earlier. She stood up and popped it back into her mouth before walking to the door.
“See ya around, red,” she said before casually flipping up the back of her skirt and farting loudly toward the shy red-head. She walked out of the room and Mackenzie was suddenly alone to process the mind-blowing scene she had just witnessed.
“Holy shit.” she whispered quietly to herself.
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So I know that “First Day of School (Part of the Sodom Virus Chronicles)” has been my most popular story, and that a lot of people are eagerly awaiting to see what happens in the next section. Well, the first draft of second period is done! I just want to spend a few days editing and finishing up the illustration and I’ll probably be posting by this weekend.
In the meantime, I think I want to spend this week re-posting stories from the Pervert Pentet (especially now that I know how to post them in condensed form). For new followers, this is an ongoing series that follows five young women who each exemplify an extreme kink.
First up is Potty-Mouth Piper, the ongoing story of a foul-mouthed teen with a penchant for filth. This particular series ended up turning out to be a rather heartwarming story of young love, with the characters developing a surprising amount of depth and personality. Even if you’re not into extreme toilet stuff, I think there’s still a chance you’ll find the characters charming.
And by the way, the images above are (lightly edited) screenshots from the Sims 4, a game I recently started playing to manage stress of the current worldwide “situation.” I decided to try recreating the Pervert Pentet in the game and found that for most of them, the character I was able to create was astonishingly close to the image I had of them in my head. Piper’s custom character in particular is almost dead-on to what I pictured when I was writing her.
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Since section one of the “First Day of School” story has gotten so much attention lately, I’ve gotten back to working on part two. But since it takes time to write an illustrated story, I figured I’d give a preview of a character that Ricki meets in second period (Physical Education). This is a first draft sketch of Dephile, the school’s top athlete, who competes in the all-female sport of competitive rape.
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Sorry that I haven’t added to any stories lately, but just as an FYI: the way my brain works is that if I start thinking about a story, my brain tends to obsess about it for a while.
I tend to want to answer questions that relate to my stories, so if there’s any series you want to see continued, just an ask or two could get the ball rolling on a fifteen or twenty page chapter written and posted in a couple weeks.
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Not really kinky, but wanted to repost so I wouldn’t forget it.
Writing Tip June 4th
A list of body language phrases.
I’ve included a very comprehensive list, organized by the type of body movement, hand and arm movements, facial expressions etc. In some cases, a phrase fits more than one heading, so it may appear twice. Possible emotions are given after each BL phrase unless the emotion is indicated within the phrase. (They are underlined for emphasis, not due to a hyperlink.)
Note: I’ve included a few body postures and body conditions as they are non-verbal testimony to the character’s physical condition.
Have fun and generate your own ideas.:-)
Eyes, Brows and Forehead
arched a sly brow: sly, haughty
blinked owlishly: just waking, focusing, needs glasses
brows bumped together in a scowl: worried, disapproving, irritated
brows knitted in a frown: worried, disapproval, thoughtful
bug-eyed: surprised, fear, horror
cocky wink and confident smile: over confidence, arrogant, good humor, sexy humor
eyes burned with hatred: besides hatred this might suggest maniacal feelings
eyes flashed: fury, defiance, lust, promise, seduction
eyes rolled skyward: disbelief, distrust, humor
forehead puckered: thoughtful, worried, irritation
frustration crinkled her eyes
gaze dipped to her décolletage: sexual interest, attraction, lust
gimlet-eyed/narrowed eyes: irritation, thoughtful, mean, angry
gleam of deviltry: humor, conniving, cunning
kept eye contact but her gaze became glazed: pretending interest where there is none/bordom
narrowed to crinkled slits: angry, distrust
nystagmic eyes missed nothing (constantly shifting eyes): Shifty
pupils dilated: interested, attraction to opposite sex, fear
raked her with freezing contempt
slammed his eyes shut: stunned, furious, pain
squinted in a furtive manner: fearful, sneaky
stared with cow eyes: surprised, disbelief, hopeful, lovestruck
subtle wink: sexy, humor/sharing a joke, sarcasm
unrelenting stare: distrust, demanding, high interest, unyielding
Place To Place, Stationary Or Posture
ambled away: relaxed, lazy
barged ahead: rude, hurried
battled his way through the melee: desperate, anger, alarm
cruised into the diner: easy-going, feeling dapper, confident
dawdled alongside the road: lazy, deliberate delay for motives, unhurried, relaxed
dragged his blanket in the dirt: sadness/depressed, weary
edged closer to him: sneaky, seeking comfort, seeking protection, seeking an audience
he stood straighter and straightened his tie: sudden interest, sexual attraction
held his crotch and danced a frantic jig: demonstrates physical condition – he has to pee
hips rolled and undulated: sexy walk, exaggerating for sex appeal
hovered over them with malice/like a threatening storm: here it’s malice, but one may hover for many reasons.
hunched over to look shorter: appear inconspicuous, ashamed of actions, ashamed of height
leaped into action feet hammering the marbled floor: eager, fear, joyous
long-legged strides: hurried, impatient
lumbered across: heavy steps of a big man in a hurry
minced her way up to him: timid, sneaky, insecure, dainty or pretense at dainty
paced/prowled the halls: worried, worried impatience, impatient, diligently seeking pivoted on his heel and took off: mistaken and changes direction, following orders, hurried, abrupt change of mind, angry retreat
plodded down the road: unhurried, burdened, reluctant
practiced sensual stroll: sexy, showing off
rammed her bare foot into her jeans: angry, rushed
rocked back and forth on his heels: thoughtful, impatiently waiting
sagged against the wall: exhausted, disappointment
sallied forth: confident, determined
sashayed her cute little fanny: confident, determined, angered and determined
shrank into the angry crowd: fear, insecure, seeking to elude
sketched a brief bow and assumed a regal pose: confident, mocking, snooty, arrogant skidded to an abrupt halt: change of heart, fear, surprise, shock
skulked on the edges of the crowd: sneaky, ashamed, timid
slithered through the door: sneaky, evil, bad intentions
stormed toward her, pulling up short when: anger with a sudden surprise
swaggered into the class room: over confident, proud, arrogant, conceited
tall erect posture: confidence, military bearing
toe tapped a staccato rhythm: impatience, irritation
tottered/staggered unsteadily then keeled over: drunk, drugged, aged, ill
waltzed across the floor: happy, blissful, exuberant, conceited, arrogant
cocked his head: curiosity, smart-alecky, wondering, thoughtful
cocked his head left and rolled his eyes to right corner of the ceiling: introspection
droop of his head: depressed, downcast, hiding true feelings
nodded vigorously: eager
tilted her head to one side while listening: extreme interest, possibly sexual interest
Mouth And Jaw
a lackluster smile: feigning cheerfulness
cigarette hung immobile in mouth: shock, lazy, uncaring, relaxed casualness
clinched his jaw at the sight: angered, worried, surprised
curled her lips with icy contempt
expelled her breath in a whose: relief, disappointment
gagged at the smell: disgust, distaste
gapped mouth stare: surprised, shock, disbelief
gritted his teeth: anger, irritation, holding back opinion
inhaled a sharp breath: surprise, shock, fear, horror
licked her lips: nervous, sexual attraction
lips primed: affronted, upset, insulted
lips pursed for a juicy kiss
lips pursed like she’d been chewing a lemon rind: dislike, angry, irritated, sarcasm
lips screwed into: irritation, anger, grimace, scorn
lips set in a grim line: sorrow, worried, fear of the worst
pursed her lips: perturbed, waiting for a kiss
scarfed down the last biscuit: physical hunger, greed
slack-mouthed: total shock, disbelief
slow and sexy smile: attraction, seductive, coy
smacked his lips: anticipation
smile congealed then melted into horror
smile dangled on the corner of his lips: cocky, sexy
smirked and tossed her hair over her shoulder: conceit, sarcasm, over confident
sneered and flicked lint off his suit: sarcasm, conceit
spewed water and spit: shock
stuck out her tongue: humor, sarcasm, teasing, childish
toothy smile: eagerness, hopeful
wary smile surfaced on her lips
nose wrinkled in distaste/at the aroma
nostrils flared: anger, sexual attraction
nose in the air: snooty, haughty
Face in General
crimson with fury
handed it over shame-faced
jutted his chin: confident, anger, forceful
managed a deadpan expression: expressionless
muscles in her face tightened: unsmiling, concealing emotions, anger, worried
rested his chin in his palm and looked thoughtful
rubbed a hand over his dark stubble: thoughtful, ashamed of his appearance
screwed up her face: anger, smiling, ready to cry, could almost be any emotion
sneered and flicked lint off his suit: conceit, derision, scorn
Arm and Hand
a vicious yank
arm curled around her waist, tugging her next to him: possessive, pride, protective
bit her lip and glanced away: shy, ashamed, insecure
brandished his fist: anger, threatening, ready to fight, confident, show of pride
clamped his fingers into tender flesh: anger, protective, wants to inflict pain
clenched his dirty little fists: stubborn, angry
clapped her hands on her hips, arms crooked like sugar bowel handles: anger, demanding, disbelief
constantly twirled her hair and tucked it behind her ear: attracted to the opposite sex, shy crossed his arms over his chest: waiting, impatient, putting a barrier
crushed the paper in his fist: anger, surrender, discard
dived into the food: hunger, eager, greedy
doffed his hat: polite gesture, mocking, teasing
doodled on the phone pad and tapped the air with her foot: bored, inattention, introspection
drummed her fingers on the desk: impatient, frustrated, bored
fanned her heated face with her hands: physically hot, embarrassed, indicating attraction
fiddled with his keys: nervous, bored
firm, palm to palm hand shake: confident, honest
flipped him the bird: sarcastic discard
forked his fingers through his hair for the third time: disquiet/consternation, worry, thoughtful
handed it over shame-faced: guilt, shame
held his crotch and danced a frantic jig: physical need to relieve himself
limp hand shake: lack of confidence, lack of enthusiasm
propped his elbow on his knee: relaxed, thoughtful
punched her pillow: restless, can’t sleep, angry
rested his chin in his palm: thoughful, worried
scratched his hairy belly and yawned: indolent, bored, lazy, relaxed, just waking
shoulders lifted in a shrug: doubtful, careless discard
slapped his face in front of God and country: enraged, affronted/insulted
snapped a sharp salute: respect, sarcastic gesture meaning the opposite of respect
snapped his fingers, expecting service: arrogant, lack of respect, self-centered
sneered and flicked lint off his suit
spread her arms wide: welcoming, joy, love
stabbed at the food: anger, hunger, determined
stood straighter and smoothed his tie: sudden interest, possible sexual interest
stuffed his hands in his pockets: self-conscious, throwing up a barrier
sweaty handshake: nervous, fearful
touched his arm several times while explaining: sign of attraction, flattery, possessive
wide sweep of his arms: welcoming, all inclusive gesture, horror
Sitting or Rising
collapsed in a stupor: exhausted, drunk, drugged, disbelief
enthroned himself at the desk: conceit, pronouncing or taking ownership
exploded out of the chair: shock, eager, anger, supreme joy
roosted on the porch rail like a cock on a hen house roof: claiming ownership, conceit, content
sat, squaring an ankle over one knee: relaxed and open
slouched/wilted in a chair and paid languid attention to: drowsy, lazy, depressed, disinterest, sad, totally relaxed, disrespectful
squirmed in his chair: ill at ease, nervous, needs the bathroom
flung himself into the bed: sad, depressed, exhausted, happy
prostrated himself: surrender, desperate, miserable, powerless, obsequious, fawning, flattering
punched her pillow: can’t sleep, anger, frustrated
threw himself on the floor kicking and screaming: tantrum
Entire body and General
body stiffened at the remark: offended, anger, alerted
body swayed to music: dreamy, fond memories, enjoys the music
bounced in the car seat, pointing: excitement, fear, eager
cowered behind his brother: fear, shyness, coward, desperate
curled into a ball: sorrow, fear, sleepy, defensive
heart galloping: anxiety, joy, eager
held his crotch and danced a frantic jig
humped over his cane, each step shaking and careful: pain, aged
inhaled a deep breath and blew out slowly: buying time to find words/thoughtful, reconciled
quick and jerky like rusty cogs on a wheel: unsure of actions, self-conscious, tense, edgy
rocked back and forth on his heels: impatient, cocky, gleeful
manhandled the woman into a corner: bully, anger
slumped shoulders: defeat, depressed, sad, surrender
stiff-backed: priggish, haughty, affronted
stood straighter and straightened his tie: sexual interest, wants to make an impression
stooped and bent: aged, arthritic, in pain
stretched extravagantly and yawned: tired, bored, unconcerned
sweating uncontrollably: nervous, fear, guilt
tall erect posture: confidence, military bearing
was panting now at: afraid, exhausted, out of breath, sexual excitement
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