0 comments/  17091 views/  1 favorites

Animal

By: MungoParkIII



Dane Margeauland is a fine man, a noble and intelligent man, a far better man than I could ever hope to be. That is why I now drive his car, care for his house, and fuck his wife. When I fuck his wife he watches from the darkness, crouching in the corner as I debase her with myself. To her I am an animal and when I touch her delicate skin we share in the abomination.

My skin is different than them, hence I serve them, I am disfigured, my body twisted, my shoulder bent beneath my hump... he calls it a tumor. I know what I am, I see it in the faces when I drive him into town, I hear the women gasp. Small children cry, older children laugh and before I began driving for Mr. Margeauland they would pummel me with rocks and mud.

It was one of those times, as I stumbled in the alley pulling the molded bread from the rubbish when they later attacked me. In the darkness of the alley they didn't just throw rocks, they had large sticks which they beat me with. In the wide streets I could usually escape or else someone would take pity and stop them, but in the alley I couldn't get away and no one was around to run them off. When I realized I could not escape, I simply kneeled before them and endured the blows, endured the pain until dark closed in from the edge of my eyes. I was ready to die. That was when I first met Mr. Margeauland as he grabbed my hand, lifted me over his shoulder and carried me to hospital.

Later, when I woke up, I found myself in a bed, my body covered in white bandage. I slept a lot then, but each time I woke I could hear a woman talking to me, telling me how lucky I was that Mr. Margeauland saved me. She said the man was paying for my stay, this man I didn't even know.

As I got better he let me work around his giant house, I would wash cars, scrub the floors, take out trash and whatever he told me to do. He kept me doing those jobs until one day I overhead a terrible fight between Mr. Margeauland and his new wife. He called her a whore and a slut as he screamed at her. It wasn't until later when I heard some of the other house workers talking that I found out why he screamed so at her.

They said he caught his wife with the driver of her car. It was only a short time later that he came to me and told me of a different job. It was late one evening that he called me into the library. As he sipped on a red drink he talked to me, speaking very slowly.

"Thorpe, I want to talk to you about a new job I need you to perform. If you do it well for me you will become the new driver. Besides your duties as driver you will need to do no other tasks for me and I will pay you the same as I have for all your fine work. I will also allow you to move into one of the bedrooms in the main house. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," I replied.

"In the past I have asked you to show the utmost respect to my family and guests and I would like you to continue to do so, however I will ask you to do something you may think contrary to my request. I want you to understand, this thing I will ask of you is my bidding alone and you will tell no one. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Tonight and on other nights I will ask you to enter Lady Margeauland's bedroom at nine o'clock sharp. The Lady will be in the room on the bed and I will be seated in the darkness, you may or may not be able to see me. On occasion I may not be alone, but you will pay no attention to me except to follow my instructions. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir."

"When you enter the bedroom you will follow only my instructions, you will ignore anything the Lady tells you. This is for when you are in her bedroom only, you will follow only my instructions. There may be times I may instruct you to do something that you think will hurt the Lady or she may cry out. Understand that I alone will tell you when to do these things and you must do them even if it the Lady asks you to stop. Can you do this for me Thorpe?"

"Yes sir."

"Good then, you can go and clean up for the day and at nine o'clock I want you to come to Lady Margeauland's bedroom. If all goes well tonight I will have the staff help you move into one of the empty rooms. And Thorpe, if you are asked by any of the staff why you have been allowed into the room simply tell them you are doing a special job for me, nothing more. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," I replied.

"Thank you Thorpe, I will see you tonight at nine."

"When I come to the Lady's bedroom."

Mr. Margeauland nodded, so I turned and left the room.

I returned to my quarters in the servant's house and cleaned myself up. I was nervous about what he wanted me to do, but he is a good man so I know whatever he would tell me to do I would obey. I remained in my quarters until a few minutes before nine, when I walked to the main house, went up the stairs and into Lady Margeauland's bedroom.

I saw her sitting on the edge of the bed in a gown. In the corner I saw Mr. Margeauland sitting with another woman. Carefully closing the door behind me I stepped into the room.

Suddenly, Lady Margeauland said, "Wait a minute Dane, you said I was to do this with the driver while you watched, what is he doing here?"

"Why darling, didn't I tell you? I fired the old driver, he had such a nasty habit of sleeping around with all the sluts in the county. Such a dirty business with all that disease and debauchery about. I've hired a new driver."

"I'm not going to do any..."

"YOU WILL DO WHAT I TELL YOU, or I will have my good friend the constable throw you in jail with the street women. It's a simple matter of a phone call."

"But you can't make me..."

"Oh, I think I can and I plan to watch it all. Now Thorpe, I want you to remove your clothes and then fuck Lady Margeauland."

"No, Thorpe, please don't do this," she said to me as I undressed. I pulled off my shirt, and then my pants. When I took off my undergarment I heard the woman sitting with Mr. Margeauland gasp.

"Why Dane, he's huge," she said to him.

"Yes I imagine it may be quite a treat for the Lady," I heard him say as I moved toward his wife. "Now Thorpe, you may remove her garment if she doesn't, tear it off her if you need to."

She pushed herself back up onto the bed, backing away from me while staring at my abominable cock. Clear fluid was dripping from it as I crawled onto the bed. I reached out to grab her robe, but she quickly pulled it off as she hissed, "Damn you Dane, I will show you that this... this... this animal is more of a man than you could ever be."

The lady then leaned forward and opened her mouth wide and moved it to my cock. Her mouth could only take in about half the head, but she began sucking and licking on it. As she did that she drooled, getting the head and shaft wet.

My cock had never been in any mouth before and the feeling was so good I feared I might not last enough to fuck her, but suddenly she moved away falling onto her back. She spread her legs then reached up and pulled me to her. With one hand on my cock and her other hand stretching herself open, she pulled me to her. I watched as her puss lips opened and then stretched wide as my cock slowly moved into her.

I could hear her whimper some but she kept pulling me onto her and my cock went deeper and deeper until it seemed to hit something inside her. My cock was about three quarters of the way inside her but it could go no more. Sensing that it might be hurting the Lady, I waited, but then I heard Mr. Margeauland say, "Now Thorpe, fuck her."

I pulled back and then thrust into her once, and then I did it again. The Lady's body relaxed a bit and by the fourth or fifth thrust I felt her lifting up to me as I pushed into her. The first few thrusts ended as I banged against her, but then I didn't push as deep and it seemed better.

"Look at that Dane, the little slut is taking it," I heard the woman say from the darkness.

"Just keep sucking woman, keep sucking," I heard Mr. Margeauland said to the woman.

I continued, but could hold out no longer and as I felt a wonderful feeling flood through my cock I moaned and pushed deep, feeling my cock bang the lady very hard. She cried out just as my cock began to spurt my filth into her. As it continued spurting inside the Lady I could see a tear run down her cheek, but as I wiped it away she said, "I don't blame you," and then she looked over at him and whispered, "I'll show him."

After a few moments I pulled my cock out of her and saw it was very wet with my filth, her wetness and a little blood. I didn't want to hurt her, but she seemed okay now. I looked over toward Mr. Margeauland and saw the woman with him kneeling between his legs.

"You did well Thorpe, you can go now. Tomorrow you will move your things into your new room. I'll let you know when I want to see another performance, I think our Lady may need a day or two to recover from that fucking," he said, smiling toward his wife. I watched the woman between his legs stand up, gently wipe her mouth on a tissue and sit down next to Mr. Margeauland. 

I quickly got dressed and headed back to my quarters. I remember thinking how nice it will be moving into the main house. 

Animal Attraction



My name's Steve Birch. I'm a 26-year old Londoner, and I'm virtually irresistible to women. That's not male bragging, simply a statement of fact. It's not just because of my looks, although at six feet tall and slim, with sandy blond hair and blue eyes, I'm attractive enough. It's not because of my personality, although I'm generally considered intelligent, witty and good company; it's not even because of my 8-inch cock, although obviously that doesn't exactly put the ladies off. No, it's because of a little gift I have in rather more abundance than most men.

As a kid women always seemed to be crowding round my pram and push-chair gurgling over me and tweaking my cheek. My mother was always very, very affectionate: she loved kissing and cuddling me at every opportunity. It was all completely innocent of course, but extremely noticeable when she picked me up from school and smothered me in front of the other kids. That, and my popularity with the girls, got me beaten up a few times. (I've always seemed to have problems with a certain sort of macho dickhead.) At one point I had three girlfriends at the same time. They were all happy with the situation, as long as they got their share of me, and there were plenty of others queuing up to take their places. I always seemed to get really good marks from female teachers too, without really working harder than anyone else.

I didn't get an explanation for all this until I got to university. A girlfriend there, a scientist, did various tests on me, and told me, when she could detach her mouth from my dick for long enough, that I had an extraordinary level of sex pheromones – dozens of times more than was normal in a human male, possibly hundreds of times. God knows where it came from – certainly not my dad, trust me! – but there it was, I was officially, and more or less literally, a babe magnet. Naturally, being a typical cocky student – no pun intended – I took full advantage of my, well, advantage. I used to make money out of it by betting my mates I could pull any woman they pointed to. Apart from numerous students, I slept with three lecturers, including a 62-year old lifelong lesbian, and my head of department's wife and daughter – at the same time. My greatest triumph, and by far my most lucrative bet, came with our local Member of Parliament. I met her at a surgery she held for constituents, and within five minutes she'd ordered her assistant from the room because of the "confidentiality of Mr Birch's issue". I can't believe the bloke didn't hear her screaming obscenities as I fucked her over a school desk!

Since I left uni I've been a bit more socially responsible. I don't have a girlfriend, and I probably haven't averaged more than eight or ten partners a year. Okay, maybe 12 or 15. In a slow year. Over the years I've learnt to control my 'talent' a bit. It's always there of course: wherever I go women of all ages and types immediately warm to me, and I still have to watch my step around more Neanderthal men. (I had to leave my last job because a woman director wouldn't take 'no' for an answer. She was attractive enough, but there had to be a reason why her six-feet-four, 18-stone rugby-playing husband was nicknamed 'Killer'.) But by driving all thoughts of sex from my mind, and wearing a particularly cloying aftershave, I can generally tone it down. Of course, I can also turn it up too when I want, and I've never been turned down by a woman I wanted to pull.

Until I met Ileana.

She'd been with the company a few months before I really became aware of her. That was because she'd been promoted, and we started attending the same meetings, about three a week. She was 23, only a couple of inches shorter than me, with masses of tawny brown hair, worn swept back from her forehead to reveal a slight widow's peak. She was slim except for C-cup boobs that all the men in our meetings had regular glances at. She always dressed in black, usually thigh- or knee-length skirts and short-sleeved tops, revealing sinewy arms and well muscled legs – I assumed she must work out a lot. She had what might be called a strong face – not unattractive, but with prominent eyebrow ridges, vigorous brows that she made no attempt to pluck, a slim pointed nose, a wide mouth with dazzling white teeth, and not much of a chin to speak of. She had a habit of running the tip of her tongue round her lips which I found dead sexy, together with a deep husky voice. Her eyes were particularly striking – ice blue in colour, and when she locked them on you it felt like diamonds boring into you.

Ileana and I immediately got on well, and found we had a similar sense of humour, cynical and slightly dark. On several occasions we found ourselves cackling together at some off-the-cuff gag that nobody else in the meeting remotely got, with everyone in the room staring at us in a sort of long-suffering way. After a couple of weeks I decided I definitely fancied her, and that she deserved me. (Arrogant? Me?) So I determined to give her the benefit of my special gift. I had to be careful – turning it on full power in a room with quite a few other people can be downright dangerous, with the women throwing themselves at me and the wrong sport of bloke feeling a sudden, previously unrealised urge to punch my lights out. But I found one or two excuses to be alone with Ileana, going over reports and suchlike, and hit her with the full force of my sexual magnetism.

With most women, five minutes of me radiating at them and they'd be on their knees in front of me panting and tearing at my fly. From Ileana, not a thing. The first time I tried it her eyes momentarily flared and I thought, "Here we go"; but the moment passed, and after that I got no reaction from her whatsoever. I'd never experienced that before, and it both fascinated me and unsettled me. The more it happened, the more determined I became that I was going to give her the shagging of her life. After several knock-backs, I decided I was just going to have to do things the old-fashioned way, and actually ask her out. Once I got a couple of drinks inside her my gift was bound to have its usual effect.

My opportunity arrived one Friday when a load of us went to the pub to celebrate a colleague's retirement. I gave it an hour or so, then I managed to manoeuvre Ileana to a corner table, a bit away from the others. We made small talk at first, while I tried projecting at her again. No reaction; she seemed quite relaxed and happy in my company though. I said casually, "Ileana Niculescu – that's an unusual name."

She shook her head. "Not in Romania it isn't. Transylvania, actually – my parents moved here when I was a tot."

I chuckled. "Wow – you're not a vampire, are you?"

She gave me a strained smile, and said sarcastically, "That's a good one; yeah, never heard that one before."

Feeling a complete prat, I was aware of myself blushing. "Er, yeah, right, sorry. Anyway, what time's your boyfriend expecting you home? Or your husband? Or your girlfriend?"

Ileana giggled at that, and ran the tip of a fingernail round the lip of her wine glass, then said coyly, "What makes you think there's anyone at home waiting for me?"

I turned my best pulling smile up to full beam. Reaching out a hand and stroking a couple of strands of hair behind her ear, I said softly, "Well, I can't believe a woman as lovely as you hasn't got someone special in her life. That'd be a crying shame."

She stared expressionless at me for a moment – then burst out laughing. Brushing my hand away, she jeered, "Has that awful chat-up line ever really actually worked for you? Gawd, you'll be asking me what a nice girl like me's doing in a place like this next!" She took the look of absolute astonishment on my face for hurt, and toned down her grin to a gently smile. "I'm sorry Steve...no, there isn't anyone. Look, if you want to ask me out, just ask me out."

I was still a bit stunned that my pheromones were having no impact on her but, shrugging, I mumbled, "Would you like to go out with me?"

Her eyes twinkled as she replied, "No, sorry. You're a really nice guy Steve, and I do like you, but I'm just not interested in a relationship with anyone right now. It's nothing personal, honest." Then she glanced at her watch, tipped back the last of her red wine and stood. "Look, sorry to cut and run, but the new series of Blade starts on TV tonight, and I'm hooked on it. Cheers Steve, thanks for being interested in me, I really am flattered."

As she began to move away, I called, "I don't suppose there's any chance of you changing your mind, is there – about a relationship? Or just nice casual non-relationship sex, maybe?"

She laughed, and took a step back towards the table. "Let's put it this way: don't give up hope, and if I do change my mind I promise you'll be the first to know." With that she scuttled out of the pub, while I stared into my pint, reflecting on the irony that, after my vampire joke, she was rushing off to watch a show about a bloody vampire. I tried to put it out of my mind, but I didn't sleep well that night. As I'd left the pub at least three girls had tried to intercept me, but at that point I just couldn't raise the enthusiasm. I had never had an experience like the one with Ileana. My confidence was badly bruised, and I began to wonder if maybe my extraordinary gift was fading.

The following day Saturday, I got up determined to put myself to the test. I was going to go out and try to pull the first available woman I saw; ideally someone who would represent a bit of a challenge. I didn't have to wait long. At a Travelodge a couple of streets away from my flat I saw a German woman seeing off what looked like her husband and teenage sons in a taxi for a trip somewhere. She looked as if she was off for a day's shopping in the West End or something. She was only moderately attractive – mid-40s I guessed, barely five feet tall, dumpy with fat ankles, and a helmet of short wiry, prematurely grey hair – but she was certainly a challenge. To be honest I felt a bit of a bastard, picking on a married woman like that; despite that, I walked up to her as the departing taxi rounded the corner, and pretended to ask her directions. I smouldered at her and within moments she was smiling slyly at me and, in heavily accented English, inviting me up to her room to look at a London A-Z. 

Throwing caution to the wind, as we stepped into the lift I slipped my hand down the back of her skirt and straight into her sensible underpants, nestling a finger in the crack between her substantial buttocks. She gasped, then giggled naughtily. By the time we lunged through the door to her room – hers and her husband's – she was clinging to me, her knees weak and her lips clamped to my throat. We sat on the bed and I began to unbutton her blouse. Even as she crushed her thin lips to mine I saw a familiar look in her eyes: she was slightly confused at what she was doing letting a complete stranger undress her, but at the same time she was desperate for me to screw her.

As I stripped her she began to tear at my clothes, and we ended up naked at the same time. My cock was already rearing up in anticipation, and she gave a gurgling chuckle and wrapped her pudgy fingers around it. I eased her back onto the bed, and sat astride her, pushing my dick against her mouth. She was willing enough but seemed a bit inexperienced, so I took full control, gripping the back of her head with one hand while I fucked her mouth, my balls slapping against her double chin. She gradually started to get into it, tracing her tongue along the underside of my shaft, gripping my bum cheeks in her hands and moaning appreciatively. It took only a couple of minutes before I shot my load, my cock twitching against the roof of her mouth, and she swallowed greedily.

I lay next to her after that, playing with her boobs while she lay back and panted, clearly enjoying herself. That's the thing – even though a lot of the women I've had wouldn't have chosen to screw me, all things being equal, when they do they genuinely have a good time. After all, I know how to please a woman, and I am genuinely quite skilled at sex. In that lady's case she was getting a proper rogering from a nice looking, fit bloke barely half her age, with her husband out of the way for hours. 

Her tits were huge and very pale, wobbling like vanilla jellies, with dark brown nipples, the thickest and longest I'd ever seen. I sucked them, chewing gently on her nips, while with one hand I twiddled about in her snatch, covered with a dense bush of soft brown hair. Her cunt was so big I managed to easy my whole hand in, and I fisted her for no more than a few seconds before her entire body stiffened and she bellowed like a lioness on heat as I felt my hand getting soaked. By the time she'd finished I was good and hard again. I slipped my shoulders under her massive thighs and pushed her legs upwards as I slid my cock into her, fucking her with all the power I could muster. She reached her hands behind her knees and grunted loudly with each stroke, occasionally muttering some word or other in her own language: the only ones I understood were "ja" and "liebchen". I twiddled her trembling boobs again while I shagged her. She came before I did, kicking her legs wildly in the air, then sank back with her tongue lolling out and her eyes glazed until a few minutes later I filled her pussy with my spunk.

I took a quick shower, and dressed while she lay back on the bed, clearly exhausted, her legs wide open as she stroked her fat pussy lips with her fingers. As I moved towards the door she leapt up, pulled my head down, gave me a big French kiss and slipped a bit of paper into my hand. When I got out of the hotel I realised it was her name – Margaretha – and an address and telephone number in Düsseldorf! I got home my confidence rather restored, the frustration that had been building up in me fucked away, and started to plan my campaign to get into Ileana's pants.

Operation Vampirella started first thing on Monday morning when I spoke on the sly to Jenny, a girl who'd worked with Ileana for a while, to find out anything I could about her interests. Jenny shrugged at first. "Sorry Stevie, she quite a private person, never really talks about her life outside work. One thing I do know though, she's got a funny taste in books. She's very into Gothic horror. She sits reading at lunchtime, things with horrible titles like Lair of the Werewolf, and Christina's Doom – ugh! Oh, and don't get on her wrong side during her monthly, she can be pretty spiky then."

It took me a moment to get what she was talking about. "Oh, you mean, er, women's troubles. Well, how will I know when it's her time of the month?"

Jenny gave me a rueful grin. "Trust me, you piss her off then and you'll know." As I turned to leave, she trilled hopefully, "Er, Stevie...If Ileana doesn't come across, I'm always up for a bit of fun." Jenny's a lovely girl, but I didn't like to point out she'd just got engaged and was six months pregnant, so I grinned and said I'd bear it in mind. She nodded wistfully, and murmured, "You do that."

So, we had the black clothes, the Transylvanian heritage, the vampire TV show, the Gothic novels... I was whistling optimistically when I got back to my desk, my brain scheming away. On my way home from work I checked out a few florist's shops. A couple of days later I called at one in Covent Garden which opened early and picked up the black roses I'd ordered especially. I rushed into work and left them and a box of Black Magic on Ileana's desk before anyone else arrived. Later that day we were in a meeting together. As it broke up she came over to me with a huge smile and said, "A mystery admirer left me a lovely gift today – the nicest flowers I've ever received, and some very tasty chocolates."

I played along. "Well, someone obviously fancies you. Er, changing the subject totally of course, have you changed your mind yet?"

She giggled. "Not yet, but if my secret paramour keeps favouring me with gifts I just might."

Over the next couple of weeks I left Lanson Black Label champagne, more black flowers – an exotic foreign variety this time – a pretty chiffon scarf flecked with silver crescent moons, even a little silver bat on a chain, with wings set with black amethyst. Ileana was wearing it every time I saw her after that. She often told me about the gifts from her 'secret admirer', and I kept asking for a date and she kept backing off flirtatiously.

By the second Saturday after my campaign started I was feeling rather sorry for myself. Guzzling beer while watching the football on telly, I got rather maudlin, and told myself it was bloody ridiculous: I could have virtually any woman I met if I really set my mind to it, I was ignoring come-ons left, right and centre, and I was spending a small fortune trying to attract a cold-hearted prick-teaser who clearly wasn't going to give me the time of day. Well, fuck it, I thought – no more! She wasn't that devastatingly gorgeous, there were plenty of other fish in the sea, and Ileana really wasn't worth all the effort I was putting in. I decided she'd had her chance, and I was going to spend the next few weeks fucking everything with a cunt.

That last part of my plan never really got off the ground. Back at work, I somehow just couldn't find the enthusiasm to chase skirt, or rather to respond when they chased me. I simply ignored Ileana as far as possible, even when we were in meetings. When we did have to speak to each other I kept my comments cool, brief and formal. Outside the meetings, things I might have raised with her in person or by phone I put in e-mails. After a few days of the cold shoulder she tried to speak to me after a meeting, but I completely blanked her and started a conversation with another colleague.

Later that day Ileana phoned me. She started off all bright and breezy. "Little puzzle, Steve – my secret admirer seems to have gone off me. My supply of lovely prezzies has dried up. Isn't that strange?"

I wasn't in the mood for that game. Injecting as much ice as I could into my voice, I said, "Yeah, well, maybe he got pissed off with being ignored, and decided to stop wasting his time and money on lost causes. Was there anything else? I'm busy."

There was a long pause, then in a quiet voice, she said, "I've been an absolute cow, haven't I?" My silence roared down the phone. When Ileana spoke again, she sounded close to tears. "Oh Steve, I'm sorry. You're such a nice, sweet guy, and I love my little bat, he's beautiful. And all the other stuff. It's just that I enjoy the thrill of the chase, and the presents were so nice I just got a bit carried away. I really am sorry. Can we be friends again?" As I continued to remain silent, I heard a sniffle, then she spoke again in a strangled voice. "Oh Christ, I am such a stupid fucking bitch! Look, please Steve...there's a show I fancy seeing on Saturday, I was going to ask a friend but I'd much rather go with you. I'll pay and everything, and I really am sorry. I'll stand you dinner too. Will you come with me, please?"

She sounded so miserable that I began to melt a bit, and agreed rather stiffly to go with her, but only if I could pay for dinner. In the end we agreed to go Dutch. It was only after I hung up, having agreed where we'd meet, that I realised I hadn't even asked what the show was. I didn't speak to Ileana at work again for the remainder of that week, but on Saturday we met under Waterloo Bridge, to head to the South Bank Arts Centre. She looked pale and had dark circles under her eyes, as if she'd been crying, but exuded brittle good humour. As usual, apart from the silver bat she was in black from head to toe, a combination of leather and denim. As I approached she thrust a card and a small box into my hand. The card showed a cute cartoon dog with a big tear rolling out of his huge eye, and a word balloon saying 'I'm so sorry'. Inside Ileana had written 'I really am. I hate myself for hurting a friend so much. Love Illy xxx.' The box was a chocolate heart, with 'To someone special' iced on it.




Animal Attraction



Suddenly I felt a heel for making her feel so bad. I said, "Ileana, this wasn't necessary. Look, I'm sorry."

Her eyes looked as if they were brimming with tears, but she smiled bravely, linked her arm through mine, and said huskily, "You've got nothing to be sorry for; I just hope you'll forgive me. Come on, let's go and have a good time." As we approached the venue I realised that we were surrounded by people wearing T-shirts bearing pictures of wolves, people wearing wolf masks, rubber paws...as we entered the building I saw the titles of the films we were going to watch. It was a triple bill under the general title 'Wolf' – the Lon Chaney Junior classic The Wolf Man; An American Werewolf In London; and Dog Soldiers, a very black comedy about a group of British squaddies being picked off one-by-one by werewolves in the remote Scottish highlands. It was a lot of hokum, but good fun and I started to relax. At some point Ileana slipped her surprisingly large hand into mine.

When the film finished we walked in silence across Waterloo Bridge to The Strand. I slipped my arm around Ileana's waist, and she enthusiastically responded, cuddling into my body and smiling at me. She seemed to be wearing a rich, musky perfume that I hadn't noticed before, and I found it quite alluring. She had booked at a classy steak restaurant for dinner. We ordered wine and a main course, then I said, "An afternoon of werewolves – interesting choice of entertainment."

She smiled self-consciously. "Yeah, sorry, it's a bit of a weakness of mine. I really identify with some of those characters." I thought it was an odd thing to say; I was just about to jokingly ask when she had last been attacked by a werewolf when the waitress arrived with the wine. Illy reached across the table and took my hand again. "Steve, I feel so terrible about the way I hurt you. I really want us to be friends again – special friends."

I smiled at her worried expression. "I thought we were. Did I mention how beautiful you look tonight? And yes, that chat-up line's worked for me dozens of times." She laughed as if it was the funniest joke she'd ever heard, trying to stay on my good side. I caught another whiff of her intoxicating perfume, making my head spin a bit. I asked her what it was.

She shrugged and glanced down at the table, "Oh it's just something I make myself; you know, mixing the right chemicals." Before I could carry the conversation any further, the food arrived.

I'd ordered sirloin steak, medium-well done, with a tasty pepper sauce. Illy had gone for steak tartare, and her eyes positively gleamed as the raw meat was laid before her. Between enjoying my own food I watched her in fascination. She didn't so much eat the dish as attack it, tearing it apart and savouring every mouthful. At one point she noticed me watching her, and grinned with an embarrassed look. "Sorry, I love this, and I am so hungry." Occasionally she ran the tip of her tongue around her lips, catching drops of escaping juice. She finished several minutes before me, hardly touching her vegetables, and sat back with a look of deep satisfaction. Again, her fragrance seemed to fill my head.

Over coffee, as we waited for the bill, Illy took my hand again, softly scratching the inside of my wrist with her fingernails, sending tingles shooting up my arm. With that, the wine and her incredible perfume I was starting to feel a bit light-headed. I murmured, "I really thought you weren't interested in me. You wouldn't believe how hard I tried to attract you."

She gave me a strange little smile. "I would actually. The very first time we were alone together, I had to fight every instinct in me not to throw you to the floor and rip your clothes off there and then. Truly Steve, I'm so attracted to you it scares me a bit." I stared at her in amazement. She smiled. "It's only because I'm, well, a bit closer to nature than a lot of girls that I was able to restrain myself." I didn't know what she meant by that, but I was liking what I was hearing too much to interrupt her to ask. She went on, "I managed to hold back, but I still ended up going home with damp knickers every day after I'd been alone with you." 

Before I could react the bill arrived. The effect Ileana's words were having on me and my pheromones was evidenced by the way the waitress who brought it draped herself over me as she placed it on the table, one hand on my shoulder, her little finger 'innocently' stroking against my neck, and her breast pressing firmly against my arm. She suddenly jumped back with a little gasp. I glanced up and thought I saw, just for a split second, a weird look of unbelievable ferocity on Illy's face, but it disappeared before I could really be sure.

We had barely left the restaurant before Illy wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled my face to hers. Her tongue thrust into my mouth, and we kissed for a full minute, our tongues circling each other. Her perfume was almost overwhelming me, and my cock felt so stiff I thought it might burst my fly. Reluctantly pulling away, and hailing a cab, I whispered, "Would you like me to see you home?"

Illy giggled and nuzzled my neck. She whispered back, "Of course. I think we might get arrested if I shag you here in the street."

We piled into the cab and immediately we started snogging again. In the close confines of the taxi her scent wrapped itself around me, almost physically, and the only thought in my head was how much I wanted to have wild sex with this woman. As she kissed me almost ferociously, her hand raking at my fly, a last shred of commonsense forced its way to the front of my brain and, glancing warningly in the direction of the driver, I murmured "Whoa, tiger."

For some reason she thought that comment was hilarious, and breathed into my ear, "Close, but no cupie doll." When the cab stopped in a quiet residential street in Hampstead Illy thrust a handful of notes into the driver's hand and pretty much dragged me up the stairs of a small terraced house to her flat. The second the door closed behind us she pressed me against it, kissing me hard and slipping a hand under my shirt, her fingers rolling my erect nipple. She broke away and, leading me into a small sitting room, gasped, "Thank fuck I'm home, I can finally relax. I honestly thought I was going to lose control before we got here."

I slipped off my shirt, then noticed she was sitting in a couch, suddenly looking bashful. She patted the seat next to her and I sat. She rested her head on my shoulder and began trailing her fingers through my hair, sending lightning bolts straight down to my eager cock. "Erm, Steve, we're here because I really fancy you, but also because I'm sure I can trust you. There's something I have to tell you. I should have told you earlier, really." I began to worry. Oh Christ, I thought, don't tell me she's a convincing male transvestite or something. She continued, "You've got to know that, well, I'm not really like other girls. Especially when I have sex."

Slightly perplexed, I joked, "What, you fart when you cum? You like to dress as Elvis when you screw? Whatever it is, I'm sure I can handle it." All I wanted at that moment, enveloped in the miasma of her smell, was to get into her bedroom, and into her.

She smiled weakly at my joke. "No, I, um, well, I turn into a bit of an animal, I suppose you could say."

I thought about the way she'd nearly ravished me in the taxi. "No, really? I'd never have guessed!"

She still looked uncomfortable. "You don't really understand, what I mean is...oh God, this is always so difficult..."

I kissed her to silence her. "Look, however crazy you get, it's fine with me. I love wild women. I'm desperate to shag you, and I don't give a shit if," I searched my mind for an image, and thought back to earlier in the day, "if you turn into a sodding werewolf or something, I still want to do this."

She gave me a very odd look and said, "Really?" Then she gave a big grin and kissed me on the cheek. "Well, what I'm going to do is go into the bedroom, and you come and join me in about two minutes, and we'll see what happens." With that she went to a connecting door, and blew me a kiss over her shoulder before disappearing.

In seconds I was stripped naked, and while waiting to join Illy I glanced at the large collection of books which were ranged on shelves on one wall. She really did have a lot of horror stuff, from classics like Edgar Allan Poe to schlock modern pulp paperbacks. She also had stuff on myths and legends, philosophy, psychology, and several large, antique-looking leather bound tomes written in what I took to be Romanian. I decided two minutes was up, and tapped on her bedroom door then stepped through. I stared at Ileana, standing before me, and gasped, "Fuck me!"

She chuckled, deep in her throat, and growled, "Yes please." She looked – different. Bloody hell, did she look different! She was naked apart from the bat pendant I'd bought her. Her head hair was altogether bigger and more luxuriant than before. Here eyebrow ridges seemed even more prominent; in fact the whole shape of her face seemed to have subtly changed, more angular and longer. Her shoulders, arms and legs were corded with muscle. Her hands and feet seemed to have grown in size, her finger and toenails more like claws now. Her pubic hair was amazing – it was a dark mass on her thighs, almost as far as her knees, surged between her legs, and extended up to her navel and beyond, all the way to her breasts – the lower pair!

I slumped back against the door in utter shock. Her rich, cloying scent was now so strong I could almost see it floating in the air. Despite the disbelieving confusion I was feeling, my cock was so stiff I thought it might rip the skin, and my guts were knotted with lust. Ileana stepped towards me and whispered, "Do you still want to do this?" Her voice was even deeper than before, but still undeniably female, with an undercurrent that sent a shiver down my spine – and straight into my straining dick. I began to wonder if I was hallucinating – maybe she'd slipped a tab of LSD into my wine or something. But I knew that wasn't it; the fascination with the Gothic, the films we'd watched earlier in the day – it all slotted into place. I realised why she'd given me a strange look when I joked about her turning in to a werewolf – she thought I'd actually guessed her little secret!

I gasped as she dragged a claw lightly along the underside of my painfully stiff knob, then her powerful arms crushed me to her and her lips mashed to mine. Her tongue thrust halfway down my throat – literally. I ran my tongue over her teeth and got another shock: they were no longer small and smooth, they were now big, pointed and felt very sharp. Hesitantly closing my arms around her I felt her spine as a prominent, rigid line, marked by thick downy fur running its length, from her hairline to her bum. To my surprise, I found it surprisingly erotic.

Illy pulled her lips from mine, and gazed into my eyes – hers were still that gorgeous ice blue. Trying to regain some sort of equilibrium, as if being snogged by a she-wolf was an everyday experience for me, I muttered, "My, granny, what a big tongue you have."

She threw her head back and gave a laugh that almost turned into a howl, then growled, "All the better to do this with." With that she dropped to her knees and I felt an incredible sensation as her mouth closed over my prick. That tongue was truly amazing – it was so long and muscular that it felt almost like a velvet-gloved hand wrapped around my cock as she sucked on me. I was slightly nervous as those sharp teeth pressed into my most delicate flesh, but she was careful not to bite down. I glanced down and noticed that she'd slipped one hand – paw? – between her legs. The other was cupped around one of my buttocks, her claws gently scratching the inner flesh close to my anus, to surprisingly arousing effect.

As Illy became more turned on she began to emit one long, continuous growl, apparently without the need to draw breath. I'd heard dogs do that and wondered how they managed it. The effect on me of that primeval sound, coming from a woman with my cock between her fangs, was quite incredible: the hairs on the back of my neck stood up, another tremor raced down my spine, yet at the same time I couldn't remember being quite so turned on in my entire life. I groaned with the pleasure of what Illy's tongue and lips were doing to me, and curled my hands in her hair. I gently stroked the inside of her ears – still basically human shaped, but more pointed than normal - with the tips of my index fingers. Then a mad thought occurred to me. Experimentally I scratched behind one of her ears, as I used to with my pet dog. Illy's growl increased in depth and intensity, and her tongue started moving even quicker on my cock, which I took as a sign that she liked that. I came suddenly, gasping with the strength of my release, feeling as if I was pumping gallons of jizz into her mouth. Barely pausing for breath, she scooped me into her arms, as if I was as light as a feather, and deposited me on the bed, throwing herself down next to me.

As I recovered my breath from my shattering orgasm I sucked Illy's upper boobs, and stroked the lower two with my hands, tweaking her long pink nipples. I was slowly adjusting to the incredible revelation of just who my new girlfriend was. She lay back gazing at me lovingly and gently stroking my hair. She half-whispered, "I'm so glad you feel comfortable with me. I was scared you'd run a mile when you found out, and I'd have to disappear – again. How did you guess?"

She was referring to my earlier werewolf joke. I chuckled and adopted a cod Hercule Poirot accent. "Ah ma cher, I just used ze little grey cells." A thought occurred to me – there had been a crescent moon when we got out of the cab. "Illy – I thought this only happened when there was a full moon."

She shook her head dreamily from side to side. "That's a bit of an old wife's tale. Anyway, we've evolved a lot over the centuries. There was a time when I'd have been covered from head to toe in fur, and my ancestors would have had eight of those." She flicked a finger in the direction of her boobs. "No, most of the time I can control it, no problem, but I usually let myself go at home in the evenings. I admit though, it is stronger when the moon's full. I have these foul tempers sometimes – the girls at work put it down to period pains." She leant up on her elbows, and kissed the top of my head. "I was worried that my musk was so strong in the restaurant – I thought I was going to lose control and break out in claws and fangs at any moment. That's the effect you have on me. I really hoped you wouldn't be turned off by the real me, because your musk's nearly as powerful as mine."

I was fascinated by all this. "So are both your parents..."

She chuckled. "No, only my dad. We can trace it in his line back to at least the 14th century. My mum's Romanian too, but she's not a lycanthrope, she just understands us from the folklore she grew up with...oh fuck, that's nice!" I had switched one of my hands down from Illy's tits to her pussy, and twirled a finger inside her while I sucked hard on a nipple. She felt on fire inside. Abandoning her boob, I dropped my head to her twat. I've gone down on hairy girls before, but Illy completely redefined the term. The back hair I'd felt and her pubic bush actually joined up between her legs. I licked the length of her slit, then pressed my face into her. She groaned, "Oh Jesus Steve, that's magic." Her claws pressed into the base of my skull, hard but not piercing my skin. The aroma of her sex was so strong that I felt faint, and thought for a moment that I might pass out. I stroked my thumbs along her thick, dark labia as I fucked her with two fingers, licking around them and jabbing her clit with tongue and fingers. At first she whimpered like a puppy, then that guttural growl started again, and I felt my cock racing to full stiffness. She began to squirm about beneath me, then she came all in a rush, bathing my face with her juice. At the moment of release she howled – literally. My heart leapt in my chest – Christ only knows what the neighbours thought! I rested my head on Illy's downy belly, and heard her whisper hoarsely, "Fuck, Steve, nobody's ever done that for me before."

My prick was screaming for attention. I drew myself up her body and my tool found its was into her slit. I supported my weight on my hands and gazed down at my lover as I fucked her, her eyes flaring and her long tongue licking wildly around her lips. She dug her claws into my bum and dictated the speed and length of my strokes Then she placed a hand behind me head and pulled me down onto her, pushing her tongue down my throat again as I massaged her tits and slammed my hips back and forth to shag her with all my strength. As she got close to her second orgasm she pulled out of the kiss and started to pant, her tongue lolling out, giggling between breaths. This time when she came, as her hips thrust upwards to meet me, I was ready for her, and stifled her howl with a deep kiss. She fell back into the bed, wrapped her legs around me and squeezed me with not-quite bone crushing force.

We lay drowsing, kissing and cuddling for a while after that, with me only occasionally wondering if I was just having some bizarre dream, and I was going to wake up alone in my own bed. After a while, Ileana started keening and stoking my cock. I was hard in moments, then she turned her back to me, and rested her weight on her knees and elbows. I moved in and brushed my cock against her bum, pale apart from the line of hair which ran down the middle, then gripped her hips and slowly entered her cunt, pausing every inch or so. She growled softly over her shoulder at me and pushed back harder onto me, and I began to pump her forcefully. With one hand I kneaded one of her lower tits, easily within reach, while with the other I stroked the back of her ear. Between growls and whimpers she gasped, "Fuck, fuck, oh God yes." As I got close to cumming I dropped my hand from her tit to her pussy and stroked her clit. Seconds later we achieved a mind-blowing mutual orgasm and both howled with pleasure, and sod the neighbours!

I'm a strictly one-woman man now; we've found a special bond between us that almost seems to go beyond ordinary love. The sex is exhausting, and utterly amazing – especially around the time of the full moon – and now I've got used to it I find her soft fur a real turn-on. I often gently scratch behind her ear on the tube journey home, which looks perfectly innocent, but which I know is getting her insides boiling and assuring me of a fantastic shag the moment she gets me home! Of course, even if I didn't adore her as much as I do, there is one other consideration – it isn't every girl who could rip your throat out with her bare teeth if you cheated on her!



Animal Crackers



ALL CHARACTERS ARE ADULTS. 

*

They raced through the forest, across the fall of dead leaves, grass, and pine needles, the aroma of pine needles filling their nostrils. The black convict ran first, his face burnished with sweat; the other convict, white, cast furtive glances over his shoulder. They wore the wet flannel stripes of convicts.

"How far to the river?" the black shouted to his companion.

"Shut up and run!" The white shouted back.

Their racket, crashing through palmetto shrubs, shattered the forest's tranquility. They sensed something pursuing them, like an avalanche sliding down an alpine mountain side. Danger stalked them: silent, close, and lethal.

Running the whole time, they reached the river in another hour. Sweat coated their bodies and glued their striped shirts to their backs; the white convict lost a shoe on the trail, serrated palmetto stalks cut and frayed the black convict's trousers, and muck from the swamp they waded across coated both of them.

Night hid the river's black water from view though the convicts heard it clearly when they came to it. Here they stopped, breathed hard, and rested. They ran the entire twelve miles from camp without pause.

"When we get cross the river, we home free!" The white convict said.

The black convict smiled, bent over at the waist, and pressed his hands against his thighs to catch his breath and rest his legs.

"Lemme cross first, to check things out; if it okay I'll whistle and you come over," the black convict proposed.

"Sure," said the white, and concealed himself off the trail to wait for the signal. The black convict stepped into the water and waded across. Halfway to the other side he stumbled over a limestone rock and an idea hatched in his head. He lifted the rock from the water and carried it to where the water was chest deep, halted, turned around, and signaled his companion, 'C'mon!" 

The black listened for his companion's splashing in the water, and when the man was close enough, he lifted the rock high and crushed the man's head; the skull cracked like paper. The companion groaned, collapsed, and blood, brains, and corpse drifted away on the current.

Both convicts returned to the prison camp within a few days. The white man, fished from the river by loggers at a saw mill down stream; the black man, found buried in a gopher hole excavated into the side of a sand bank, dead from suffocation when the sand cave collapsed on him. Wild hogs found him first and had a meal.

The prison camp buried them without a funeral. Two inmates sewed them inside blankets, dumped them into wood boxes, nailed the lids down, set them into shallow graves, covered them, and left. Crude stakes located the graves, but no markers identified the bodies.

Earlier in the week the men complained about working on a Sunday, refused to go to the woods with their crews, and threatened to escape. They received no money for working on Sunday because Sunday work violated state law. The warden, Captain Fleming, argued, "You eat on Sunday, don't you!" Then told them plainly, "Leave now, if you want, I won't waste a minute chasing you or wondering where you went; go! You won't get far, and you'll be easy to find after the Crackers are done with you. Few prisoners escape here alive." Fleming spit a stream of tobacco juice at their feet, turned, signaled the guard to open the gate, and walked back to his house.

The guard smirked at them and opened the gate.

The two convicts walked out the gate and fled into the woods.

Mary Taliaferro was the only white woman traveling in the caravan going to Fleming's prison camp. The trip to the camp took three days and two nights on the crude roads and wilderness trails. Along the way she ate cold, greasy corn pone, drank creek water, slept in the caged wagon sitting up, and used the woods for a comfort station. When it rained, she got wet.

On one occasion, at night, after nine o'clock, while rolling along a level road, she became queerly intermingled with the other passengers in her wagon when their teamster fell asleep and a wagon wheel hit a stump, overturning the wagon and passengers, ass over teacup. The younger, male prisoners, chained together and walking ahead of the wagon, unhitched the mules and righted the wagon. 

A day-long tramp, the next day, brought the caravan to the camp at twilight. The rustic camp was built atop the white sand of a wilderness location where convicts harvested turpentine from the pine forest. From a distance, the camp looked to Mary like crude barns and stables surrounded by a high board fence.

A fifteen-foot, rough-hewn, plank stockade surrounded the camp. At the corners of the stockade crude platforms made of pine lumber served as sentry posts. Young men with rifles sat on the crude platforms smoking cigarettes.

The camp contained several buildings. The largest building contained the dining hall and kitchen, another building was a warehouse for tools and supplies, several barns stored barrels of turpentine. One building was the men's barracks, a smaller building was the women's sleeping quarters; a stable for the mules and horses, and the camp headquarters completed the scene.

The camp well stood in the middle of the sandy yard. It collected surface water and the drainage of a swamp. Scalding sand and a few stumps took the place of grass of trees.

Mary was tall and pale, with long red hair, gray eyes, and freckles. Compared to the others, she looked intelligent, genteel, healthy, and unmarked by vices; a lady, isolated in a wilderness camp, populated by society's dregs with their rotting teeth, scars, and lice. And she brought along nothing to fortify herself for the ordeal.

The convict caravan halted in the yard, the stockade gate was shut behind it, and the boy guards chambered rounds, aiming their weapons at the new prisoners.

A low ranking camp officer appeared, yelling at the convicts to 'shut up' and 'line up'. When they were in ranks, he walked the lines looking at each prisoner and made notes on the roster with his pencil. When he got to Mary he stopped, looked at her, smirked, and said, "I can't wait to hear your story." His eyes expressed brief amusement, and then he moved on to the next convict in the line.

After inspecting the inmates, the officer read the camp rules to the group and dismissed them to join the other prisoners in the barracks and eat supper.

Supper was corn pone, and navy beans boiled with salted white bacon. Convicts ate the food with their fingers. Out in the woods the guards killed squirrels, opossums, and raccoons to add to the convict's diet of beans and bacon. Convicts with money bought sweet potatoes, tomatoes, and tobacco from the guards.

The women shared a crude barracks filled with rusted iron beds and urine stained mattresses. The floor was bare and clean, and the entire room reeked of formaldehyde and other disinfectants.

Mary walked inside, looked around at the austere scene, and found an empty bed. Six black females chattered, using a dialect alien to Mary's ears. The toothless senior matron handed Mary a striped cotton gown, two blankets, and jabbered something incomprehensible. Mary guessed the woman wanted her to change clothes and surrender the civilian frock but the woman nudged Mary to a separate room apart from the black women.

At eight o'clock the night guard came in, set a fire in the heating stove, and took his seat beside the entry; the women went to bed.

Outside the barracks a full moon rode at its zenith, swimming through high clouds, and filled the barracks with silvery light. Mary wasn't alone, and awoke during the night, sensing a presence close by.

His face was round and looked dead, like a barren moon strayed from a strange solar system. He stood at the foot of her bed, partly bathed in the moon light. His eyes radiated muted white light, and his mouth seemed frozen in a smirk. The guard ignored him or couldn't see him.

"You're new here," he said, "and different from the others." His lips did not move when he spoke.

Mary felt frightened and confused about who or what this was.

"You have no money, no friends, and no family to help you."

"What does my situation have to do with you?" She asked.

"I'm a friend to the friendless, you might say," he said, "I help people with their mortal burdens."

"Like a guardian angel?" She guessed.

He paused briefly before speaking, "No, not like an angel."

"Then who are you?" she asked.

"I trade better lives in this world for souls in the next," he said.

"Like Satan?" she guessed.

"I'm known by many names," he replied.

"You want my soul for favors here?" she asked.

"Yes," he said.

"You'll furnish me better food, or, what exactly do I get for my soul?" she asked.

"A pardon, if you want it," he said.

"No!"

"You'll have a difficult ordeal here without my help," he suggested.

"And you'll do your part to make if difficult, right?"

"I'll do what I can to harvest a soul, nothing more," he answered.

"It doesn't look to me that you've had much success here in the camp," she observed.

"The others, you mean?"

"Yes," she said.

"Some souls are worth more than others," he said. "Most people here won't benefit from a pardon because they'll be back here almost as soon as they're released. Most are doomed to death and Hell already. There's no profit in bothering with them."

"I'm still not interested," she said.

"You might be here for a long time," he reminded her.

"No," she said. Mary responded by closing her eyes and reciting a prayer silently, petitioning God to rescue her. When she opened her eyes again, she saw him smirk before he vanished into the moonlight. He said nothing more and dissipated after a few moments.

Startled and stunned, she remained awake until 3 o'clock when she was sent to work in the kitchen.

When Mary walked in the kitchen she saw a woman seated on a table swinging her bare feet, humming softly, and nibbling at a carrot; an old white man ground coffee close by. Another man raised the lid of a caldron to stir the great chunks of white bacon, tumbling about in the yellow, frothing water.

The kitchen was dark and dingy with a dirt floor. Mary smelled hoecakes baking in the oven. Outside, a man chopped firewood.

Two zinc-covered tables to the right of the entrance formed the kitchen work tables; boxes and chairs served as seats. In a corner of the room stood a sink and basin for washing dishes.

In the same room, at the corner farthest from the door, sat two cracked porcelain-lined tubs set in a space not screened off but merely surrounded by torn wire netting. At one corner of the kitchen was a rude stove of bricks with a metal strip across the top, a barrel of flour stood in another corner, plus a bread-board and a chest containing supplies.

Later two Berkshire hogs strolled into the kitchen but no one got upset about it.

The dining room joined the front of the kitchen. The convicts ate their meals in the barracks, chained to their beds; the guards used the dining room.

The convicts started work at four o'clock, just at the black margin between night and day, when the moon had set, and not a single star relieved the deep gloom of the skies. Mary served the men their breakfast, which she carried to their barracks.

They handed their plates to her, which she filled with pork, beans, and hoecakes. This done, she passed among them again, filling their steel cups with coffee. Their fingers were thickly calloused and immune to the heat in the cup. They drank heartily. The sugar was brown and sticky, but sweet.

Captain Fleming watched her work.

The convicts slept on wooden platforms that ran the length of the barracks on each side. At night a long chain was stretched down the middle of the barracks between the sleeping platforms to which the men were attached by means of smaller chains fastened to their leg irons. These latter chains were called "waist chains," and were attached in turn to "stride chains," which passed from shackle to shackle, with enough play to enable a man to shuffle along in short steps.

Both stride and waist chains were riveted on, and it appeared impossible for a man to remove his pants with his ankles fastened together. Convicts initially wore their pants buttoned down the outside of the leg, like Mexican cowboys, but over time they learned to draw their pants down between the ankle and the iron, and then up and out; a simple and clever trick that made slashing the sides unnecessary.

All the men went barefoot and their feet were swollen and badly misshapen: spread out, broken down, cut, gouged, blistered and scratched, and the toenails of many were missing.

"Men's dat fust comes heah," said Caesar the wood-cutter, "what ain't use' to bein' on dey feet, gits fagged easy an' hit mek dey feet swell up sumptin' awful. Dat's why dey all goes barefoot in de stockade an' roun' camp. Dey shoes ain't big enough foh dey feet."

After breakfast, the men assembled outside in the yard, each carried a torch, and filed slowly out of the camp, wending their way through the inky forest, looking like a troop of goblins who would evaporate into thin air at dawn. Then the blacks in the gang struck up one of their strange, wailing, unintelligible chants that are borne in the heart of every real African, and their echoes caught the weird melody and moaned it back and forth for miles.

After breakfast Mary washed the convicts' uniforms. Hiram Fleming, the warden's father, wandered over to monitor her about mid-morning and commenced a monologue about convict grooming.

"Sunday mornin' the men spend cleanin' up, takin' a bath, and changin' clothes," he drawled. "They odor ain't very pleasant," he added, "but it's more the smell of disinfectant than anything else." Fleming barely got into the rest of his tale before a guard appeared to summon Mary to the warden's office.

When she arrived, Captain Fleming sat cleaning his fingernails with a knife. She approached him and stopped.

"Sit down," he said.

"Am I in some kind of trouble?" She asked.

"How are you getting along so far?" He asked.

"I can't sleep for the fleas," she complained.

"I understand that you were convicted of vagrancy, perjury, and attempting unnatural carnal knowledge. Care to explain this?" he asked.

"I met a girl in New York who invited me to travel with her to her home in Florida, and I awoke one night with her in my bed. I made her leave. And when I collected my things to go, I discovered that my funds were missing, and complained to her father. He became angry and summoned the constable, complaining that I was a vagrant and lied about his daughter. Did I mention that this man is the judge in that county? Well, he signed the conviction order and the sheriff sent me here."

"I summoned you to let you know that you'll be my house-keeper while you're here, and to warn you about degrading yourself while you're an inmate in this camp. The company you keep will try to corrupt you if they can," he said.

"My God! Captain! You talk of me degrading myself! You must be jesting. How can I degrade myself further more than I am? I am on the bottom now and I have quit caring what I become!"

Fleming smirked, and took a deep pull from his jug, and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. He set down the jug, poked his case-knife at her ribs, and then pointed the blade towards his bedroom.

Mary looked at him and remained seated.

Fleming smiled and abruptly slapped her out of the chair.

Mary looked stunned but rose from the floor and walked to the bedroom; Fleming followed.

She sat on the side of the bed; Fleming stood beside her, took another swig from the jug, and set it on a table. The bed was wide with a high mosquito bar. Mary pulled the striped dress over her head and dropped it to the floor. Fleming undressed and climbed onto the bed. Mary lay on the bed and waited, resigned to her fate.

The apparition materialized in the room. Mary saw him and thought he looked like Death. Fleming took no notice of him.

Mary waited, but nothing happened.

After a while the blood in Fleming's head surged against his temples and his skin color turned red like old meat. His eyes were afire.

Mary looked at Fleming, and when she looked lower; he punched her face with his fist, then collected his clothes, went out, and closed the door behind him.

The apparition smiled at Mary but said nothing.

Mary lay on her stomach and cried into the pillow until it was damp with tears. Her jaw ached and her mouth trembled. When she stopped crying her face was white and her eyes were red and swollen. And in a while she arose from the bed and dressed. Fleming was gone when she returned to the parlor.

About noon Hiram Fleming re-appeared with three guards, and was carrying a strange looking object Mary had never seen before. The old man noticed her looking at it.

"It's what we call a 'black aunty," he said, smiling. "It's for discipline."

Mary studied it from where she stood. From its wood handle stretched a two-ply leather strap five feet long and four inches wide. Hiram smeared oil of some kind on the straps, then coated them with sand. "It's for discipline," he said and smiled at her.

"Golly! I remember a` big, brawny convict made his escape and disappeared completely. Trackers with dogs and guns couldn't find or catch him. He woulda made good his escape had he kept off the major roads and outta the larger towns, but at Palatka he showed his face and was recognized. We got word of it and brought him back to camp. He went back to work with a ball and chain attached to his legs.

"He was a bad man and his face was his misfortune. Well, this convict was booked for a whipping, and in order to make his whipping sure, he went on strike and refused to work.

"No man will ever whip me," he bragged, and said, "I'll kill the first man who tries to whip me."

"Oh! But he was a bad one, and I was afraid the guards would get the worst of it. They started for him, not a bit frightened by the threats, and he grabbed a shovel. He aimed a blow at one of the guards, and it barely missed the fellow's head. The convict was as strong as a heavyweight boxer. The guards closed in on him and put him on the ground in a few minutes, although he made a hard fight and was right game, too!

"They tied him to a post and stroked him with the Black Aunty until he stopped cussing. After they released him he was as gentle as a kitten. With tears in his eyes he promised that not only would he never run away again, he would do two men's work.

"On the following day I walked over to see him at work, and there he was, slaving away like a whole team. He was stiff and awkward, and I knew his bruises hurt. I sat down on a woodpile to fill my pipe, and as I did so I heard him call out to one of his mates, "Hey, Bill, bring me over the liniment?" and his voice had undergone a wonderful change. Honestly, it was as gentle as a lady's. All the brag and bluster was gone. One whipping had cured him of all his ugliness," he said and smiled again at Mary.

"What does that have to do with me?" She wondered.

Hiram removed his hat and rubbed his hand across his scalp. "It does appear that you've earned a dose of attitude improvement, too," he smiled.

Mary's mind raced, her thoughts, like a hooked trout, thrashed about beneath still water. The guards took her outside.

Mary's back was red and swollen after Hiram finished. She couldn't walk. The other women carried her back to the house and put her to bed. She awoke late that night. Satan stood at the foot of her bed watching her.

Mary looked at him. Without a word, he melted into the darkness.

In the morning, when she served the guards and officers breakfast, Captain Fleming ignored her. While the guards ate she sat at the end of the table nearest the fireplace, her hands folded in her lap, until the others should be done with their plates or wanted more.




Animal Crackers



"Get away from the fire," one of the guards barked.

Mary moved to the east window and pressed her forehead against the pane, looking out into the blackness of the late winter morning.

"Get away from the window!" another guard snarled.

Such were her days for several weeks.

In his official report, Captain Fleming blamed the fire on a kerosene lamp explosion. The lamp exploded alright, but Fleming and some of the guards were in the barracks, drunk, harassing the convicts when it fell.

Their favorite form of harassment involved gambling. The guards forced the convicts to play Poker with the Captain. If the Captain won, the convicts had to work Sunday; if the Captain lost, the guards beat the convicts.

On the night of the fire two of the drunk guards got into a fight and fell over the lamp, which spilled its fuel catching several of the blankets on fire. The fire got out of control and an entire squad of convicts perished as they screamed and begged to be unchained. Some even begged the guards to amputate their feet. The drunk guards laughed at them, and taunted them, and ignored them.

After the blaze no real investigation was made. The coroner's jury did not visit the scene and accepted the Captain's explanation that an accidental explosion of a lamp ignited the building.

Hiram Fleming, whipping boss at the camp, was the principal witness for the state. Fleming testified that he saw someone enter the barracks immediately before the fire, heard two heavy blows and saw the flames shoot up. Then he watched the man flee from the room and run out of the camp. His testimony didn't explain where the guard was, and no one asked.

The women's barracks also burned to the ground, but one bird had flown the camp.

Mary walked through the pine forest all night, following the Moon's descent to the west. At dawn she came to the river, waded across, and stopped to rest. When it was light enough, she saw Reuben, the kitchen woodcutter, asleep on the ground, partially concealed in some kudzu vines. Reuben was a friendly, docile youth, and Mary took a seat on the ground near him and waited.

The morning sunlight lay like lace beneath the palms and pines and stunted oaks. The black moist earth smelled of leaf mold. Wild yellow cannas and blue iris bloomed.

Reuben awoke when sunlight poked its finger through the foliage and touched a patch of skin on his face. The appearance of Mary startled him. They agreed to travel together until they came to civilization. Beyond this he refused to disclose his destination, if he even had one.

"No offense Miss Mary, but you don't need to know dat, case you gets caught," he said.

As they walked, she told him her story and he told his.

Reuben didn't know his age, but when he was a child he was arrested for stealing a mule.

"Dey say I was bout four years old and too small to ride it," he said.

He was not large enough to mount the animal and was leading it off by the halter when he was caught. The court convicted him of horse theft and sentenced him to twenty years in prison.

"Dey warden at duh prison didn't know what to do wiff me, but he finally invented a task I could do. He put two bricks at each end of duh prison yard, gimme two mo uf em, and told me to carry dem to one uf deh piles, lay dem down, pick up deh udder two, and tote em back to deh first pile, back and foth all day long, always totin' two bricks. An he whipped me when I broke a brick or didn't stack em like he wanted. I grew up toting bricks, and wore out fo' sets of bricks befo' he got me some real work," he said.

"My God! How long have you been in prison?" Mary asked.

"I figger 'bout seventeen years an' some months," he said.

"So, you're twenty-one years old?"

"I supposn' I am."

Reuben talked of his life at various camps. Some mined phosphate rock, some grew crops, some built roads. He had been around the circuit.

They walked through the woods until late in the day when they found a spot to stop for the night; Reuben built a fire, using a knife and matches he stole from the camp kitchen.

When the fire was blazing, he stirred the coals, adding a log of live oak, and spat into the fire. As the fire snapped and hissed and popped, Reuben told her about this wilderness.

"Dis h'yar wilderness is a nest ob outlaws. Dey is some good people h'yar but deh most uf dem is escaped convicts, army deserters, an people hidin' from deh law. An deh law don't come into deh woods cause the Crackers will kill em," he said.

The words no sooner left his mouth when a rifle cracked and Reuben fell over dead, shot through the head with twitching body, fluttering eyelids, mouth gaping, and blood flowing over his chin.

Mary screamed.

Two men materialized out of the night; Mary guessed they were the Crackers Reuben had spoke of. Each of the men seemed shy, suspicious, and ill conditioned, being anything but pleased to see a woman. They looked sickly pallid, having a curious, waxy tissue peculiar to Crackers. Their gaunt frames were covered with yellow flesh, barely, and were scantily concealed beneath clumsily patched shirts and ragged pants. Their fuzzy hair was matted, and their wiry beards were tangled corkscrews. Their eyes had the same vacant, stupid expressions Mary had seen on fish.

Mary was thirsty, hungry, and tired. She expected to be shot, too. She tried to make conversation with the men, tried to learn why they killed Reuben, but they responded in laconic grunts that disclosed nothing. With expressions of vague dreariness, they looked away from her, as an animal does when you attempt to examine its eyes. But they were not indifferent to her remarks; on the contrary, they were keenly curious to know who and what she was, though they hid their feelings beneath their masks of stolid reserve and unfriendly boorishness. They listened to her story as impassively as a cow might have done, and when she finished, they aimed their rifles at her and nonchalantly pointed towards the south.

As Reuben tried to explain to her, these outlaw people lived simply and crudely. They were feral whites. A log-hut with a dirt floor and a skin bed in the corner was par for their homes. The wilderness furnished them with almost everything they needed except gunpowder and lead-shot and a few other essentials. Most of them traded moonshine for what they needed.

They hid their stills in the swamps and forests, and regarded all officers in general, and United States marshals in particular, as their enemies. They hated anybody and everybody connected with the law, and would not hesitate a moment to shoot lawmen. And it was impossible for strangers to penetrate the bewildering maze of woods and undergrowth that hid them.

The narrow sandy trail they walked was a silver ribbon in the moonlight. Where the palmettos were thickest they heard, once, the faint whirr of a rattler, and stood motionless for a long time.

After an hour of trekking through the woods, Mary heard a dog bark and the light crackling of leaves close by. Turning round, she saw two women approaching. The Crackers paid no attention to them, and Mary assumed the women were family members. For an instant the women stared at Mary; then, looking forward, and in Indian file, the women walked towards a crude log hut. Mary and the men followed. At the clearing Mary saw a third woman with two small children.

The woman tended the fire and the children. Mary thought the children looked filthy and worm infested. One woman looked as if she had died and didn't yet know it.

"May I have a drink of water, please?" Mary asked one of the women. The group looked at each other, and the smaller of the women left, carrying a pail. Soon she returned, placed the pail on the ground, and helped herself, drinking from a can that supplied the place of glasses; then the large woman drank a copious draught. Mary waited her turn. The water was warm, brackish, and turbid, as though the pail contained milk. Mary held her breath and gulped the water down.

The crude hut was enclosed on three sides by logs chinked with clay; the front was open. There was no furniture or hearth. The split-log floor was covered with pine needles and a fire blazed in front of the open side. An iron pot filled with water and potatoes sat atop the fire.

When the potatoes were cooked, they gave Mary one to eat and directed her to find a place in the pine straw to sleep. She tried to grasp the Crackers' intentions, but was ignored and gently shoved toward the hut by one of the men.

Lying on the pine straw, she listened to the frogs in the swamp. Once she heard the wail of a harmonica drifting across the woods on the breeze. She fell asleep listening to the acorns from the live oak fall on the roof, sounding like fingers opening a latch.

When Mary awoke, she walked outside and watched the tiny woman plowing. The woman drove a small horse and small plough. The plough handles pulled at her armpits and her shoulders jerked at every roughness so that her feet flew up behind her.

Mary watched as she reached the other side of the clearing and turned the corner with the horse and plow. And as she watched, the plough point caught a root and bucked. The girl plunged forward in a somersault. But she arose, brushed the dirt from her face with her arm, and took up the plough lines again.

The woman's husband or brother lay on the sand in the sun, his hat over his eyes, dozing, while the little woman plowed. About noon the older man, named Amos, left the clearing. The younger man was 'Billy,' and the women were 'Zelda,' "Charity,' and 'Wilma.'

Zelda was heavy, large, deep-voiced, and big breasted. Her hair grew thick and low, black and shiny like gall-berries. Dark down covered her upper lip and her large arms. Her teeth were white in her dark face. 

Wilma was the mother of the children.

Mary studied the women and decided it was easy to distinguish women who did field work from those who didn't. The women who helped their men plow, hoe, cultivate, and harvest, were gaunt and lean as abused horses.

At mid afternoon a man driving a buggy pulled into the clearing.

"Where's your uncle?" he said to Charity.

Charity said nothing.

"Your uncle's at the still, ain't he?"

She remained mute. The other women collected close to her. One of the children suckled Wilma's emaciated tit with its dirt- encrusted mouth.

"I'm the man buying that cane syrup of his. My name is Parker. That syrup that makes a man feel so prime." He winked at her.

She said politely, "That so?"

A silence fell in which the squirrels could be heard barking in the woods.

"Well, I'm mighty sorry to miss him; I had business with him."

The women looked at each other. It would be a pity to lose trade for Amos. The stranger seemed all right. Zelda believed him to be the man of whom Amos had spoken. Parker was the name, all right. She wanted to tell him to go down the road to Palmetto Landing and to halloo across the river. She was unable to do it as caution dammed the words in her mouth.

At last she said, "If you was to care to state your business now? If you was to say what-all you wants o' Amos, mite be I could find him and tell him."

He said bluntly, "Yes, I'll state my business. Tell Amos to put a barrel of whiskey on the boat when she comes down Wednesday. Here's some tags to use. See, Florida Cane Syrup, addressed to the Dixie Sweetheart Sugar Company at Jacksonville. Tell him to put one on the barrel and to send a barrel every Wednesday until I tell him different."

"Mite be a good idee to smear some rale syrup around the edge o' the barrel-head, like the juice were leakin' a leetle," Zelda said.

Parker climbed aboard his buggy, then studied Zelda for a moment, "I don't care what he does to the barrel-head, as long as the barrel gets on the boat." Then he rode away.

Billy hung around the clearing to watch Mary.

Amos returned to the camp at sunset when the low tangled growth of oak and pine and palmetto fell black and silent. The sky was a mass of stars, close and bright.

A bright night made little change in the clearing. Where the sunlight was tawny, the moonlight was silver. Sunlight or moonlight or the incandescence of stars washed thinly through the live oaks and pines.

The potatoes were boiled, distributed, and the people sat around talking.

"Down the road," said Zelda to Mary, "there's a man and woman livin' in a cabin, and they gits drunk and she beats him awful. But they ain't married, and we be." There was a world of pride in her voice.

Is that so?" Mary exclaimed.

"True as the Bible," he replied solemnly and changed the subject.

"Damn them pigs! They comes ever' day a fillin' they bellies with my old mash and gets hog drunk. Any fool could back-track 'em to the still."

Amos told them of a commotion at the creek near his still. Half a dozen wild pigs splashed about the swamp, throwing muck, and rattling palmetto fronds, colliding violently and falling in a pile when they smelled him. They were drunk. He shouted and lunged at them. They staggered to their feet and ran sideways and backwards, their ears flopping over blood-shot eyes. He shewed them back across the creek and they escaped, grunting into the woods.

But Amos lied; he hadn't been at the still, he went to the prison camp to see if there was reward money for Mary. Fleming offered Amos twenty dollars to bring her back to the camp or kill her. Mary overheard Amos talking with Billy making a plan.

Later in the evening a dense fog settled over the clearing. Before bed Mary asked permission to use the latrine. Amos ordered Charity to escort Mary into the woods and watch her.

Charity and Mary walked to the usual spot. Alone and unseen, Mary distracted Charity and slammed the woman's head into a tree trunk, and fled into the fog.

Mary ran in the direction of where Amos and Billy captured her. In a while she looked behind her and saw the faint, diffuse glow of torches, then ran faster to stay ahead of the men.

There are places in this wilderness treacherous to tread upon, places that invite sure and solid foothold, but open like traps on a scaffold, then close over the victim. The ooze beneath is filled with skeletons of unwary animals. To tread there is to risk vanishing forever.

The region is thick with palm trees, growing on little hammocks that rise above the stagnant water, festooned with slender parasitic creepers, which keep up a constant, strange motion no matter how still the day, and have a talent for reaching out and catching the trespasser. Huge, fan-like palmetto leaves, interlacing overhead, darken the ground even at midday, and millions of water-weeds tangle in Gordian confusion in the gloomy reaches underneath. Rotting tree trunks obstruct passage everywhere, and the stench is fearful. 

Bloated cotton mouth moccasins slide through the ooze; poisonous insects envelope the head like smoke; and fat spiders, spotted red and black, and poisonous as serpents, move about their gossamer threads. Now and then alligators float across the black-green slime.

Amos knew, as Mary did not, that she was on the trail to an abandoned house swallowed whole by the jungle long ago. Amos knew the woods intimately since childhood. Blacks avoided it, as did superstitious Crackers, fearing ghosts. It was an abandoned sugar plantation the Navy plundered during the war. They removed what wasn't on fire, and left the rest to rot. Kudzu vines concealed the ruins.

When Mary reached the ruins, she pushed through the vines looking for a place to hide and rest. Discovering the house, she felt her way along the walls to an entry and a door, then ascended the steps, opened the door, and went inside. Feeling her way in the dark, she located a wall and felt her way to a staircase, moving cautiously up the stairs, feeling for missing or rotted steps.

Reaching the upper floor, she found a bedroom above the front entry. The glass panes were obscured with mildew and dirt, one pane was shattered. The room smelled dank and musty. She stood by the window and waited.

"They'll be here soon," a familiar voice spoke from the gloom.

Mary twisted around to see Satan with the queer face and phosphorescing eyes, then turned back to the window. Amos and Billy soon appeared, carrying torches.

She walked past the creature and went downstairs, feeling her way carefully down the decrepit stairs.

Billy pulled his pistol from his pants and cocked it. Both men entered the old house with their torches burning brightly, and moved slowly through the foyer to the dining room.

Almost immediately, Mary stepped out of the darkness, bludgeoning Billy with an old brick and throwing ashes in Amos' face. She grabbed Billy's pistol when she stepped on it, shooting Amos in the face before he had a chance to lift his rifle and aim. Their fallen torches ignited the carpet.

Mary pulled the bodies away from the flames and stripped them. Billy gave up a pair of trousers, brogans, and ten dollars in silver. Amos furnished a flannel shirt, coat, and forty dollars in green-backs. It was enough money to get her somewhere. She dressed, tossed her striped shift into the fire, shot the men again, for good measure, and left the house to find her way in the dark. Amos's dog, "Spot" was outside, patiently waiting. Mary walked past him and he followed.

Moving through the woods, saw-palmetto barbs cut at her hands flesh, and the undergrowth was a twisted treachery. When the sun rose she headed west, toward the coast.

The refuse of old fires littered the sand with matted limbs, plus stumps, and logs, all bound together with thorny vines. Chameleons and lizards gamboled round the trunks of the trees, and distended their green throats until they became scarlet, as if in elfish mockery of her. On every side dark pine trees grew, varied now and then by little copses of oaks, where fires or the axe had made a small clearing. A starling, inky black, screamed from the woods.

When Mary reached the river she saw that the landing was on the other side, and she'd have to swim to it. She contemplated the obstacle. But to turn back from a swim of fifty yards in smooth water was absurd. She removed her clothes, bound them up with the shoes, raised the bundle above her head, and waded into the river through the maidenhead cane. Spot followed.

The bearded tops of the cane obscured her view, the submerged vegetation felt like squishy snakes beneath her feet. Her relief was immediate when she rolled comfortably into a swimming posture upon the open water, and struck out for the other bank. The water was deliciously warm, and a pleasant change from the rasping, nervous touch of the grass. She swam with a leisurely sweep of her arms.

The water had a sparkle of salt in it, not enough to flavor, but quite enough to give it brilliance and transparency. She could see the bottom six or eight feet below, with its pure white sand; and now and again the surface was broken into bright prismatic ripples, till she imagined she was floating on a sea of pearls.

Then Spot barked! And the blood curdled in her heart.

"Alligators!"

There were two of them; one far to her right, but nearer the bank to which she was swimming; the other between her and the bank she had left. She was unnerved.

She struck out, madly and furiously, without sense or discretion, but was checked and recalled to her senses by one dreadful fact: the dog was out-swimming her. Now she knew that one of them must be sacrificed for the other, and a woman with any self-control easily out swims a dog.

She soon saw the effect of it when she passed the dog, who turned in toward her, with a whine, swimming dogfully in her wake. The dog's nose or paw touched Mary briefly, and as she looked over her shoulder to check on Spot, one of the gators grabbed the dog.




Animal Crackers



Mary heard a dull, muted 'glumpf,' the drowning farewell of poor Spot, as dog and reptile sank amidst an eruption of bubbles. A second gator quickly slid over the spot where they vanished but missed Mary by seconds and inches as she made shore and safety. 

Mary dressed and found a spot to wait for the boat. At dusk, the trees silhouetted black against an apricot sky, tipped with bands of pearled lavender clouds.

No one lived at the landing, there was nothing there but an old freight shed and a feeble wharf built out in the water. This wharf was so low that the river weeds dominated it from end to end, and the planks, elevated a little above the vegetation, were the only visible evidence of the dock. Her surroundings were desolate.

Night was upon her and she realized that she was in an ugly position after she calculated how it was likely that her boat would not arrive before dawn. The moon was gone, now, and it was impossible to see more than a foot or two through the thick darkness.

With the night woods, swamp and river awakened to the din of animal sounds. Owls screeched and hooted; strange, frightening noises wafted from the forest; and the water around the wharf seemed alive with alligators. Mixed with their roars she heard the swish of their tails, and it seemed likely that some of them would leave the river for a meal.

Mary built a fire from wood she gathered, while keeping an eye out for the gators, and with the matches she found in Amos' jacket. In the flickering light of her fire she saw the wild eyes of a panther watching her from the darkness. There was little or nothing she could do now. She knew to remain still and mute when faced by a panther; screaming or other excitement guaranteed instant attack. In frozen horror she gazed at the vicious head and bared fangs of the beast as it emitted a low and ominous growl; she expected the cat to spring upon her and tear out her life, but the beast, a gentleman, met her gaze, snarled, then turned away and left.

Satan appeared again.

"Looks like I did okay without your help," she said smugly.

He cackled. "You're not out of the woods yet!"

As Mary started to sputter in protest, he dissipated once more, and she was alone in the wilderness. There would be no sleep tonight; Mary needed to stay vigilant to stay alive.

Around two o'clock in the morning the river steamer awoke her, tooting its whistle as it drifted up to the wharf. After the hands secured the boat, two men disembarked and loitered at the landing. One was Captain Fleming, the other was an armed guard. Mary saw neither man and came forward out of the dark to board the boat. Fleming saw her and fired his revolver point-blank.

Satan appeared and stopped the scene from unfolding. "Time is up, it's the moment of truth," he said to Mary, "life or death, choose now!"

Mary walked past Fleming, as if the pistol shot never happened, and came aboard, paying her fare to the mate. Fleming paid her no mind. The boat was headed down river to the Gulf and the small port there. The boat hauled freight and a few passengers and had no cabins; passengers took seats around the outside of the pilot house on the top deck, suffering the heat and cold and rain as it occurred.

As the night air chilled Mary she pulled her coat snugly about her and relaxed. A fire of pine chips burned atop the pilot-house, to light the way; the flames cast a lurid light among the trees that stood tall and gaunt on either side of the river. Mary saw the shadow cast by the boat's captain as he piloted them down river. She finally submitted to her deep weariness, falling into a dreamless sleep.

When she awoke, in the pale light of morning, she stretched her legs and felt at peace for the first time since her arrest.



Animal Farm



Subject: Human pets, Lesbian, Domination, Urination, Bondage

*****

Having recently moved from across the Atlantic to America Yelene was alone, friendless and quite poor. 

She was studying in America, contrary to popular opinion most Russian women did not come to America to become mail order brides or hookers, Yelene was a well-educated, respected professional in her own country who had crossed over so that her research work could take place in better laboratories and she could make greater progress but much to her chagrin living in America was expensive and her meager stipend from the university barely covered her living costs. 

Lonely and lost the blonde woman wandered into the closest book shop she could find when she saw the dark clouds darkening the horizon. 

"Welcome." Came the chirpy voice of the obviously gay worker who sat behind the check-out desk, the bookshop was old and rather charming but it was only then that Yelene noticed exactly what kind of bookshop it was. 

It was for erotica, Yelene was no prude but the blatancy of some of the posters made her catch her breath, unconsciously her gloved hands tightened the collar of her cream coat at her throat. 

"I'm sorry." She coughed, her face turning red with embarrassment, "I should leave." 

The clerk just nodded giving her a faint, patronizing smile, the blonde quickly made her way to the exit but was suddenly stopped when a brightly colored poster screaming the words HOME STAY caught her eye. 

All the details were given below, an all-women's homestay run by an older lesbian couple who wanted to create a safe environment for single women coming to work from out of town or foreign students who felt uncomfortable by the amount of violence in the city. The rent was reasonable, far cheaper than what she was paying for her city apartment. 

"Excuse me." She inquired, turning to the clerk, "Is this still valid." Her relief thickening her accent. 

"That poster, the couple had put them up all across bookstores in and around campus." Replied the young man, "You'd better call the number, it's just a week old but I think it might have gotten filled up fast." 

"You know the couple?" Yelene inquired cautiously. 

"Yeah nice ladies, both in their thirties. One works in the coffee shop right across." 

Assured, Yelene copied down the number and left, hurrying home before the rain began. For once excited about her prospects in America. 

She quickly dialed the number into her smartphone and waited for the familiar ringing, it didn't ring long. 

"Hello?" called a husky voice at the other end. 

"Hello is this Judith or Mira? I'm calling to enquire about whether you have place for another boarder?" 

"And who is this?" questioned the husky voice. 

"Yelene Vygotsky, I'm here from Russia studying in the university in the department of Neuroscience." 

...

Judith and Mira both turned out to be stunning women in their early thirties, Judith was a pale red head, as slender as a leaf with wide soulful green eyes and a sweet inviting smile and Mira was her tall Amazonian partner from South America, with olive skin and wild curly hair and flashing dark eyes the both of them made a captivating couple and soon enough Yelene was invited to move into their house. 

"It's strange." Yelene said to Mira one morning at breakfast after almost a week in their house, "I don't see any of your other boarders." she wasn't overly concerned, her own busy schedule hardly gave her any time to relax. 

"Don't worry, dear." Said Mira with a strange smile on her face, "You'll meet them all soon enough. But tell us about you first, any family in Russia?"

"None." Smiled Yelene a little sadly, "I came to America for a fresh start." 

Unknown to the blonde Russian, Mira had just exchanged a smile of pure wickedness with her partner. 

"Come now, dear." Said Judy, "This is what the farm is perfect for, relaxation! Why don't you go out near the pool, it's hot and the area is totally isolated, catch some rays!" 

The Russian girl agreed enthusiastically and headed to her room to change into her swim suit.She desperately craved some time alone after her hectic week. 

"Slip the sedatives into some ice tea you take out to her Judy." Said Mira in a hushed tone. 

"Have you decided what kind she's going to be?" 

"Have you seen her lovely tits, they are quite large aren't they. She'd make an excellent cow." Mira grinned. 

"Guess we'll start her on a course of drugs that'll make her lactate, I can't wait to milk her." Judith replied with an excited smile. 

...

Yelene felt groggy and uneven and naked... 

Very naked and she felt like she had just chewed up some sawdust, she tried to move her arms and legs but found that someone had bound them. Her surroundings slowly came back, she was in some kind of pen, she'd have called it a cage but it wasn't tall enough and it hadn't a top, a pen the kind in which you keep children or animals... she was on the farm! 

A few muffled curses in Russian, she found she wasn't gagged thankfully; "Judy, Mira...?!" the moment she tried to go forward but was jerked back ... a collar around her neck. 

"Shut up." Came a disdainful voice from the darkness, "Cows aren't allowed to talk, besides that horrendous accent of yours is hurting my ears." 

"What...?" Yelene stuttered, "Why...?" 

"Because you're just part of the farm now, honey." Judith said appearing from the shadows, a cruel smile on her face, "and we needed another cow." 

"You can't do this!" cried out the blonde woman, "It is illegal, I may not be a citizen of this country but this is certainly not how you treat me!" 

"Honey we don't care if you came from vaginas we came from, every girly that came by went to the farm, there are close to ten animals now... they used to be girls but they are animals now." The redhead smiled, "Now you'd better shut up and go back to sleep or Mira's gonna come out with her whip." 

Judith stepped over the pen's walls and came towards Yelene with a syringe of something and a ball gag. 

Before Yelene could do anything the stuff in the syringe was putting her to sleep and the last thing she felt were Judith's gentle hands caressing her breasts. 

...

The barn had ten little animals, all collected carefully, housed. Two bitches, two cats, two filthy pigs, two sturdy ponies and lastly two cows. 

The two bitches were messy looking women, one was African American with long dreadlocks, a student with a smooth swimmers body and a hairy bush between her thighs and under her armpits. Her soulful eyes showed her absolute delight to be where she was, she was used to it now and she loved her mistresses. She had fought at first but then the pleasure of being where she was, was too great. 

The other was a south east Asian woman, Indian or Pakistani with waist length dark hair and wide eyes, she looked like a princess and her body type matched her counterparts, they were chained close to each other but not so close that they could touch each other. A frustrating situation all around. 

Like all the women except the new cow, the girl with long dark hair just called Molly, after Mistress Judy's first dog was very happy with her position in life, her body belonged as a dog's to her mistresses and like the animal she was, she was forever loyal. 

The two cats were the best looking of all and the Mistress Mira's favorite, as she liked delicate pretty things. They were named Anastasia and Sophine, they used to be known by other names when they were human but as animals, they only had the names given to them by the Mistresses. And unlike the other slaves these two's bodies were totally hairless, from their pussies to their underarms. 

Anastasia was dark haired with pale white skin and deep penetrating blue eyes, she looked like a china kitten and Sophine was from Asia, a slim, sleek kitten with dark bitter chocolate eyes and luscious pink lips. 

The pigs were special, they had to be sourced in a different manner, for the pigs Judy and Mira needed special slaves, slaves that enjoyed a certain kind of behavior and then had scoured the internet to find these perfect girls. 

Ingrid and Melli were the renamed lesbian partners from Dallas, Texas who had been disowned from their rich families when a very scandalous article about their extracurricular activities had come to light. They were dirty girls who liked to play in the filth of others, they were filthy crusted in shit and reeking of piss, they slept blissfully unconcerned by the stink. 

The ponies were the butch and tall Buttercup and Strider, both were muscular and had long hair; they were twins who Mira had brought from a Reservation with her. 

And lastly the soon to be renamed Yelene's roommate, the redheaded Bess, who's body had been treated with the same medications Judith had prepared for Yelene, the special medication that gave Bess's body the symptoms of being pregnant only amplified, her body had softened and her belly was a little curved, her hips were wider and her vagina softer. Her breasts had to be milked at least twice a day without fail. 

None of them were allowed to talk, none of them wanted to talk... after all now they were just animals. 

... 

The next morning all the other animal's watched curiously as the new cow was renamed and her medication started. 

"The first thing you need to understand now is that you are no longer Yelene, you are Sara and you are no longer human. The rights, the laws and the customs that you have learnt of humans no longer apply to you because you are an animal." Said Mira cruelly, the other animal's found no fault in what she was saying, they were after all animals but the new one struggled, she struggled even when Judy gave her, her first round of medication. 

"Soon you will be like Bess." Said Mira to Sara, "Look at how Judy will milk our cow." 

Yelene didn't want to but Mira's husky voice made her turn and for the first time she studied what she was going to be wearing, there were knee pads to protect them from the floor since they were on their knees, a collar and chain was bound around the neck and attached to the back of the barn wall, too large and strong to break or slip out of. And Bess's asshole had a dildo with a tail attached to it stuffed in. 

Judith bent down and caressed Bess's breasts and the redhead perked up, mewling through her ball gag, trying to get closer to Judith. Her hanging breasts jiggling, their red and purple nipples inflamed. 

"I know pet, its milking time." Cooed Judith, carefully massaging Bess's breasts before latching on and sucking gently, almost like a child. 

"Look Sara, darling. You'll be our second little cow." Mira giggled. 

Sara... no Yelene tried to express her outrage but was silenced by a gag that had probably been stuffed into her mouth the night before, all around her the other animals stirring restlessly, the pigs were naked, the dogs tailed dildos swished and their muzzled mouths drooled, the cats looked at her lazily and the horses were pawing the ground in their harnesses. 

Mira stepped into the dog's enclosure, "Come now Molly, Suzy, come greet Mistress properly." The dogs yipped though their muzzles as Mira unlocked their chains and their muzzles. Both Molly and Suzy ran to their Mistress greeting her with licks to her feet and her hands, getting petted. 

"Now Sara." Called Mira, "We'll give you a proper welcome; all our animals love a new playmate." 

Yelene was struggling harder now, she didn't understand what welcome meant exactly. 

"Don't worry." Said Judith wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, "You'll want to say after this, sweet Sara." 

With all the animals out of their cages and on their fours, Mira led Yelene by her chain to the large center of the Barn and her chain attached to some hooks in the ground. 

The bitches looked at her hungrily, the bitches and the ponies wore strapons while the cats and pigs just licked their lips. 

"Slowly. None of you will move." Said Mira, "Before you fuck her like the animals you are you will do it my way." 

"Sophine my kitten, show this little cow how your wonderful tongue works." Commanded Judith, the Asian cat eagerly approached and bent low, sniffing the musk of their new playmate and her tiny tongue came out and took a tentative taste, liking what she tasted her tongue dug deeper, licking in a wide flat line across the pink puffy lips of the tall blonde in front of her. 

Sara... Yelene, moaned through her ball gag, drool slithering out as the Asian kitten's lips sucked on her pussy lips and her tongue played with her clit. 

"Bess darling, suck her lovely breasts." 

Sara's breasts felt a sudden suction, a wet warm mouth engulfed her nipple and tongue fucked it, she roughly fondled her other nipple while she tickled her on the underside of her breasts. The kitten all the while pumped her finger in and out of the now wet and soft pussy, sliding almost four fingers into her love hole. 

"Sweetie," whispered Judy to the pleasure dazed Sara, "You're going to be our wonderful animal. 

*****

--PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU'D LIKE TO SEE THIS CONTINUED--



Animal House



I would like to relate an experience that I had when I was in high school. When I was a senior, after I turned 18, I had a job working at a nearby apartment complex, and I had access to the vacant apartments. On occasion, I would bring my girl friend, Holly, over to one of the apartments for some "old fashioned" sex. On one particular evening, we had made plans to go out with another couple, John and Pam. We visited one of the local bars, and after a few beers, John and I decided that we should all go to one of the vacant apartments.

Upon entering the apartment, we found that it had only one bedroom. Being in an inebriated state we decided that we would take separate corners in the room. Holly and I wasted no time; we immediately began to undress each other and proceeded to get into a sixty-nine position. I came up for air, quickly looked over to the other corner, and saw John mounting Pam, who was still wearing her blouse, from the rear. This caught my attention, so I watched John slowly slide his cock up Pam's wet pussy. Pam moaned as he went deeper and deeper inside her. Pam was loving every minute of it, and I soon realized that I wished I was in John's place. John grabbed onto Pam's tits and moved his cock faster and faster inside her: By now Pam was just about screaming from the pleasure. I was so excited that I turned around and spread Holly's thighs and after rubbing the head thru her wet folds I slid my cock into her as far as possible. Holly reached for my ass, pulling me into her. We quickly came to climax and rested for a while.

By now Pam and John had finished, and we began to talk about the possibility of swapping. At first it was just a joke, but then John and I explained to the girls that swapping was something that we had always wanted to do. After much debating, the girls agreed on one condition, that Pam and I go to the living room. John and I agreed, and off I went with Pam. When we got into the living room, Pam removed her blouse, revealing a gorgeous set of tits. They were big and hung on her

chest perfectly. Her nipples were rock-hard and pointing upward. Pam immediately dropped to her knees and gave me the best sucking I have ever had. Just before I was ready to come, she told me to lie down on the floor. I was about to explode. Pam took my balls in her hands, gently massaged them, and licked the head of my cock. Moving her head up and down, faster and faster taking me deeper and deeper into her mouth, I could feel my cock ready to let loose. With one last dive, Pam put her mouth completely over my cock and sucked as hard as she could and then swallowed every bit of my come.

After a short rest, we started in again. Pam had me lie down on my back on the floor. She stood above me spread-eagled and then eased her wetness down onto my waiting tongue. While I ate her, she was saying, "Lick me, eat my cunt. I want to feel your tongue inside me." as she rocked her hips over my face. When she was close to orgasm, she got on her hands and knees, put her ass high in the air, and said, "Fuck me, I want to feel your cock inside me." I mounted her from behind, rubbed my cock up and down her slit while she moaned for me to fuck her. Finally, I knew it was time. So I slowly slid my hard cock into her waiting pussy. She moaned louder and louder as my cock went deep inside her pussy. After a few strokes, Pam said, "I want to feel your hot cock come inside me. Come on, give it to me, give it to me really hard!"

That is exactly what I did. I reached around and fondled her tits and pinched and rolled her nipples between my fingers. Pam was screaming with pleasure, I was sure the neighbors would call the police. I felt her pussy tighten up, and I knew that she was ready to come, I grabbed her hips tightly and thrust my cock into her pussy as hard as I could. When I came, Pam was moaning and screaming; "I can feel your hot come shoot way inside of me!" With that I collapsed on the floor. She had satisfied me as no other woman ever has. Unfortunately, we all graduated and went to different colleges. Some day we will get together for a reunion.



Animal Images



Author's note: the following story is purely a work of fiction and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental. The author wishes to express his gratitude to Copperbutterfly for her editing to make this a better story.

It was a nice calm, relatively cool evening that night that turned into a glorious night. I had gone out after dinner for a leisurely stroll around the neighborhood. I wasn't one of those people who took power walks to exercise the muscles they had sat on all day at work. I took walks to enjoy myself, to get a little fresh air, to let dinner settle, and to enjoy whatever sights nature gave me.

In my neighborhood, a walk around the block is like a typical walk around several blocks. It is laid out in a sort of kidney shape, with occasional cul-de-sacs breaking up the monotony. The lots are all large and wooded, providing more than a modicum of privacy for each house. There are a lot of old-growth evergreen trees that provide both wind and sight breaks, especially good for keeping the winter snows from drifting.

I had actually completed my usual circuit and was about to turn into my long driveway when I noticed a woman standing on the walkway some distance ahead. Even though it was on the path I had already covered, curiosity got the best of me and I started a second time around. She seemed uncertain what she wanted to do, first turning the way she had come, then turning back toward me, and repeating the same process several times, pausing between turns as if contemplating her options.

As I approached her, I slowed my pace even further, not anxious to by-pass this Amazon. She had to be at least four inches taller than my six feet and looked like she had the weight to rival most NFL tight ends, if not more. 

That is not to say that she was not attractive, because she was. She had dirty-blond hair cut rather short and her tall figure had lots of curves – enticing round mounds in the back of her jeans and nice protrusions in her denim shirt that overshadowed a bit of a pudgy look.

I stopped about ten feet away, wondering if she needed help or directions but she didn't even seem to see me in her preoccupation. I soon had a preoccupation of my own; when she turned toward me, I saw the most pronounced camel toe in the crotch of her jeans that I'd ever seen! The outer lips of her pussy were big and puffy, outlined perfectly by the tight pants which were pulled deeply into the crease between the mounded lips.

I was mesmerized by the sight of her and her most private location so on display, even if it was behind cloth. After several moments of staring first at her framed pussy and then, after she turned, at her well-rounded bottom, I glanced around only to see that there was no traffic on the street, either vehicular or pedestrian. When I turned back, she was again facing me with her camel toe so very pronounced. Still she ignored me. 

I made a decision.

Slowly walking up to her when she next turned away, I stopped and waited. When she turned again, I slowly but surely reached a hand forward, palm up, slipping my middle finger into that obvious crease.

She gasped as my finger touched the top of her slit, what must have been her clit; I felt a hard little protuberance behind the cloth.

"What ... are you ... doing?" she whispered hoarsely.

"Just testing," I said.

"Testing what?"

"Why, testing the place I want to kiss and lick and suck."

"You ... you what?" she demanded.

"Just testing what I want to kiss and lick and suck," I responded, moving my finger around her little button.

Again she gasped. "Why ... would you ... do that?" she struggled with the words.

"Because ... you are so beautiful and sexy and desirable," I said, hoping the truth would not scare her away.

"You think I'm ... sexy?"

"Absolutely!"

"Would you ... would you do anything else?"

I slid my other hand around her waist and down, cupping one of her buttocks. "I'd like to kiss and lick this too."


"No! You'd kiss there?"

I moved my hand right over the center of her bottom. "Yes, and stick my tongue in there and make you feel so good!"

"Oh ... oooohhh! I ... I can't ... believe ... you'd do ... that," she stammered.

"Oh, yes, I would," I responded. I moved that hand up to cup her breast. "And I'd love to kiss and suckle this too."

"You would? You don't know how much they droop though."

"I don't care. They are still beautiful to me. I want them!"

"You do? You really do?"

"Yes, I do."

"Well, I ... um, are you sure you'd ... you know ... lick this?" she asked, her hand sliding down her side and around to brush her butt.

"I would love to. Give me a chance to show you."

For a few seconds she was perfectly still, her unwavering gaze locked onto my eyes. Then she gave an almost imperceptible nod and suddenly we were rushing back to my driveway. For once, I wished the house was not so far back from the street but there was an advantage – as soon as we were behind my seven foot tall hedge, she began to unbutton her blouse. By the time we entered the house, the blouse was open and so was the front-clasp bra.

She was as eager to get her jeans off as I was to take off my clothes so we bunny-hopped to the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothing along the way. She was a little on the hefty side, as I knew she was, but I loved my women with meat on their bones; it gave me plenty of "cushion for the pushing."

Almost as soon as she had settled on her back on my bed, I was between her legs with my tongue doing yeomen work around those puffy pussy lips and everything hidden between them. She was very wet – either from my fingering or from her own thoughts – and I found sweet savory liquid all over her treasures. I set about kissing and licking her from knee to knee and missing nothing between them. She seemed most appreciative, locking up into a board-stiff pretzel of twisted limbs before I ever had a chance to touch her clit. She nearly smothered me in her lust-filled orgasm before relenting and letting me go back to work.

In all I spent nearly an hour licking her pussy and watching her cum four times, before I switched to licking her anus. She came twice more before she seemed to become boneless, laying limply as she panted for breath. I moved up her form and asked permission to slide my cock into her; too tired to speak, she nodded her approval.

Although she was soaking wet – again – she was tighter than I had expected. I guess that, since I knew she was married and she was such a tall woman, I assumed she'd have a large husband who'd have proportional sized equipment and he'd do her often enough to keep her somewhat stretched. Just goes to show what assumptions do for you.

It took me several strokes to work my way inside her fully but when I did, it felt like I'd stabbed my prong into a campfire. She was hot and the way she moaned, you'd have thought she just found a gold mine. I rested above her for several minutes, holding my weight on my forearms, while flexing my cock in her love tunnel.

That was when I recognized an added bonus to fucking a taller woman. As I gazed down at her, I realized that her tits were just below my mouth. Unlike with short women where I'd have to curl my body around to suck on her tits while keeping my cock in her cunt, with this one all I had to do was lower my face. This woman was built for comfort.

I started sucking on her left breast and she raised her chest to push her tit into my mouth. Slowly, gently I began extracting and reinserting my cock into her hot box, wiggling my pubes against her clit every time I mashed our bodies together, still suckling her nipple.

"Oh, baby, yes, please, please, PLEASE don't stop, baby, keep fucking me, honey, I love it so much!" she whispered hoarsely.

Her eyes were closed but it was funny to see her expressions run through a whole series of changes as I'd touch a particular place or she'd change our angles. Her legs were like a basket of snakes, wandering around my waist and my bottom and rubbing my legs, constantly moving. I shifted my weight to my left arm and let my right hand trickle sensuously down her side, along her thigh, back to her buttock. I tried to reach under her to her anus but there was just too much woman for my reach. It didn't seem to matter because she seemed to be in ecstasy. I don't think I'd been pumping her pussy three minutes before she exploded like a mine blast.

I let her enjoy the afterglow of her pleasure before shifting to my right arm and sucking on her right tit, using my left arm along her other side. In a short time, her legs locked behind my ass and she set up a rhythm matching my own: every time I pumped back into her, her legs yanked at my butt, slamming me hard into her twat. Her hands took over the roving role, wandering all over my body, squeezing here, softly massaging there, always encouraging. The more she yanked, the faster and harder I pumped until we were slamming together with every stroke.

I felt my cum begin to boil in my balls and tried even harder to bring her off again. I feared I had failed when my sperm began to spew into her hot pussy but moments later, she stiffed again and quaked through another pulsing, vibrating climax.

A minute later, I was laying on my side, having tugged her over to face me so that she was laying in my arms. Between gasps for air, I smothered her with kisses for the next several minutes, getting in return some of the sweetest loving I'd ever had. I assumed that we were through for the evening but her hands closed around my cock and balls and began a loving caress that soon had me recovering.

When I was still again, she asked, "Wanna put this in that back door you licked earlier?"

"You bet!"

"Got some lube?"

I found a tube and slathered it on both of us and then climbed behind her. She had to spread her knees extra wide to accommodate our size difference but then my cock slid relatively easily into her anus. I savored every millimeter of travel up her tight chute, and particularly the broad expanse of her round bottom. I think she might have had the biggest butt I'd ever had the good fortune to screw in the doggy position and my libido and I loved every precious second.

It was a bit of a stretch to reach her tits for squeezing and massaging while I humped her ass but I managed to do it well enough that she begged me to pinch her nipples. Meanwhile she put a hand between her legs and fondled my nuts. This time it was me that came a few moments after she did.

We both lay on the bed huffing and puffing from our exertions, me on my back and her face down. As my breathing began to approach normal and the perspiration cooled me off, the woman climbed on top of me. Supporting herself on her elbows, her legs and arms wrapped around me in a bear hug and I thought she was going to consume me.

"My gawd, honey, I don't know when I've ever felt this good. Damn, you made me feel like a woman again. I didn't know I could cum so many times. Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

She covered my mouth with hers and her tongue shot down my throat – well, probably not but it felt that way. Not that I minded; I loved everything she was dishing out. She finally pulled back and set about covering my face and neck with kisses.

"Doesn't your hubby do this for you?" 

"Hell, no!" she said, almost spitting out the words. "All he knows is 'Slam, bam, thank you, ma'am' and then he's done. He thinks sex consists of getting off his rocks and to hell with everyone else."

"You're kidding!"

"I shit you not. He hasn't eaten my pussy in years. And he NEVER would even think about licking my ass. Oh, gawd, baby, when you did that, I just about came unglued!"

"I'm glad you liked it."

"Not like, honey. Love. I loved it!"

"Good. Then I'm glad you loved it. So did I. I love the taste of you and the way you react to my tongue. You are a super-sexy woman."

"Oh, honey, thank you so much," she said with such feeling that I knew she meant it.

"You don't need to thank me. You've given me great pleasure tonight!" I was just as serious as she was.

"So ... tonight! Any chance we can ... maybe ... make this ... you know ... a regular thing?" she asked.

"I'd love to but ... what about hubby?" 

"Aw, honey, he doesn't have to know. And if he finds out, I don't give a damn. He can either like it or get out. If he can't take care of me, I need someone who can. You're it."

"Okay. I sure don't mind. When?"

"I've seen you around during the day sometimes. Are you usually here in the daytime too?"

"Yeah. I took an early retirement last year so I'm usually puttering around the house."

"Good. I'll find a time."

After another half hour of kissing and cuddling, we dressed and I walked her partway home.

She did find another time. The following morning, my doorbell rang at 9:43 – a.m.



Animal Instinct



Rhodesia's shadow dragged behind her like a heavy perfume. It swelled outward at her hips, blooming into a cloud that darkened the whole avenue, and then narrowed again at her waist, making a shape on the ground that a demon could land on. It was a fantastic shadow, a sculpture of darkness, almost as appealing as the thing from which it sprang. 

The shadow was black and distinct, thanks to the full moon that smiled and winked on the horizon. As she walked along, she wiggled her hips, making her shadow bob and sway. It was an age old-custom, a traditional movement to alert those present to her need to be fucked. But she didn't want just any man. She wanted a man who could throw boulders. Her swaying shadow was sexy enough to lure one. Due to the whims of fortune, however, she was at that particular moment alone. The man of her dreams was inside snoring, his arm wrapped around his beautiful wife, who also snored. 

Walking down the street, Rhodesia's soul was on fire. Soon it would burn to a crisp, and without having warmed another. She ached for a man, for the feeling of a hard cock inside her. She ached to be filled up and stretched. She had to find some means of release. She was desperate. Anyone or anything would do.

Rhodesia looked around, to make sure no one was watching, and then put her ass on the corner of a brick building. She lifted her skirt and put her gooey slit on the building's rough edge. She began to rub her cunt up and down. Rivulets of translucent goo ran down the wall's surface. It looked like a thousand slugs had spewed slime on the bricks and crawled away. 

Rhodesia moaned like an ox. Her face looked like a cookie cracked in half. The fissure was her half-opened mouth and the crumbles were arranged to form her crooked teeth. The broken piece of her face floated in space. Rhodesia put a hand on the wall to steady herself. But something about the wall felt wrong. It was warm like flesh, and smooth like muscle. Rhodesia turned around and screamed. A man with sunglasses was standing behind her. She had been rubbing her pussy on his crotch. 

Rhodesia's mouth hung wide open. The man was leaning against the brick wall and smiling. His smile was huge. Entirely too big for his face. It was far too distinct and too wide. His laugh wrinkles were valleys. He wasn't smiling like a cad who'd pulled a fast one. He was smiling like a demented demon. Rhodesia couldn't see his eyes behind the sunglasses and this bothered her. But she could see his teeth, which were long and pointed like the fangs of a beast, and saw that they shined in the moonlight. 

"Who the hell are you?" she asked. "Some kind of a sex maniac? And if you didn't notice, it's after sundown, so why are you wearing your sunglasses? Take 'em off. I want to see your face in case I need to pick you out of a police line up." 

The man's smile curled at the edges. "That's not a good idea," he said. 

"Take them off. I want to see what you look like." 

He stood perfectly still. For a moment Rhodesia thought she had spoken to a statue. Then he lifted one of his arms, saying softly "I warned you." 

He pulled off his sunglasses and Rhodesia's face fell slack. He had two giant diamonds in place of his eyes. They sparkled with white light. Waves of energy emanated from the twinkling orbs and washed over Rhodesia. She stood transfixed in their brilliance and then turned around and put her hands to the wall. 

"Fuck me," she moaned.

The man put his sunglasses back on and stepped around her, eyeing her up and down. He put his hand on her waist, caressing her hourglass-shape. He squeezed her hips and lifted her skirt. He pulled her thong to one side and rubbed the tip of his finger across her pussy. 

"Stick it in," Rhodesia hissed over her shoulder.

"Not yet baby," the man hummed. 

Rhodesia could feel his hands inspecting her. His long fingers spread open her pussy lips and rubbed her moistening clit. She opened her mouth and let a moan escape from her throat. 

The smiling man ran his fingertip back and forth. She bent over further. He twisted his finger in and out of her like a corkscrew. She reached back and squeezed the bulge in his pants. 

As he probed her, a thick gooey fluid collected on the lips of her pussy. He scooped a dollop of this up on his finger and rubbed it into her asshole. Very slowly, he pushed his wicked finger inside her anus. Rhodesia moaned and clutched at the bricks. Mingling with her moans was the sound of bones being dragged. 

The man in sunglasses looked down and saw a dog with a naked skull for a head. The skull was of canine proportions, although it seemed to belong to a larger dog. Despite the dog's efforts to bark, the only sound that it made was the clacking of its loosely-hinged jaw. The man's smile grew wider. He twirled his finger around Rhodesia's ass and pulled it out. It glistened in the moonlight. He held it down for the creepy creature to lick. Who else was so giving? A long wet tongue emerged from the dog's skull and cleaned the vile finger. Rhodesia was too deeply submerged in her dementia to notice the scene. The man put his finger back in her ass and pushed it in up to the knuckle. 

The inside of Rhodesia's rectum was soft and smooth, like velvet, and lined with a creamy coating. The man worked his finger in and out, loosening her tightly-clenched anus. He pulled his finger out and put it in his mouth. He smile stretched to vast proportions as he sucked his finger clean. It tasted simultaneously like a Mars Bar and a copper penny. He looked at the skull-faced dog and winked. The dog clapped its jaw and ran off. 

Rhodesia's thoughts were lost in a haze. The sensation of a man's finger probing her asshole had proved the perfect remedy for her longing. When the man pulled his finger out, a wisp of cold air crept up her asshole. Rhodesia arched her back and wiggled her ass in anticipation of the finger's return. But instead of a finger she felt something larger -- much larger -- pushing against her sphincter. Finally, she groaned, she was going to get the fucking she craved. She pushed her ass out like a bitch in heat. Although the outer ring of her anus was relaxed and dilated from finger-fucking, the inner ring was still squeezed tightly closed. The hole in the center of this anal ring was no larger than a keyhole. Rhodesia whimpered in discomfort as the man pushed his iron cock against it. He held back for a moment and then pressed on it again, finally nudging the head of his cock past the red hot sphincter muscle. He eased it inch by devastating inch. Rhodesia's hands clutched at the bricks like claws. 

With his cock wedged halfway up her ass, the man suddenly gave it an extra push. Rhodesia squealed like all Hell had just broken loose. Her high-pitched cry roused a family of blackbirds. They were nestled in a tuft of straw atop the brick wall. They flapped their wings violently and fluttered about. The man looked up but continued fucking Rhodesia's ass. One by one, the blackbirds flew down and entangled themselves in Rhodesia's hair. Their squeals were so similar to Rhodesia's that the man couldn't tell them apart. They opened and closed their beaks, showing their tiny pink throats, and emitted a cacophony that was equal parts agony and joy. It was such an appropriate sound that Rhodesia herself stopped squealing and let the birds do the work for her. Their combined cry was the blast of a trumpet, a call to arms that roused dozing spirits to perform great deeds. 

Presently, three of the blackbirds extricated themselves from Rhodesia's hair and flew in circles around the man's head. They clamped their beaks on either stem of his sunglasses and carefully lifted them from his face. The man's diamond eyes shone like stars. The third blackbird swooped down, perched itself with spiky talons upon the man's smiling cheek, and began pecking at his eye. The man didn't care. He kept smiling. The blackbird diligently chipped at the diamond's edges until it succeeded in dislodging the jewel. It was almost too big to hold in its beak and almost too heavy to lift, let alone keep aloft, but the bird somehow managed to fly off with it. It skirted the north wind with the precious diamond clutched in its mouth.

As it flew over field and fjord the bird noticed something strange. It wasn't flying so much as being pulled by the diamond, which flew much faster than any bird could fly. The blackbird had no more volition than a comet's tail has when it gets pulled through the sky by a comet. The bird and the diamond that it held on to disappeared in the nighttime sky. 

The laughing man grabbed Rhodesia's hips and pulled her onto him, sinking the full length of his cock in her ass. The depths of her rectum stretched to accept him. The blackbirds that were tangled in her hair kicked their cries up a notch. They were a raucous caucus, penetrating the nighttime sky with their squeals. 

Woken by the hullabaloo, a thick serpent stirred in the crawlspace behind the brick wall. It pushed a loose brick out from the façade, poked its head out, and let a long tongue flicker back and forth, tasting the dirty night air. Deciding that the time was right, the serpent poured from the hole in the wall. It pressed its head against Rhodesia's calf and curled around her leg. It wound its way all around her body, letting her juicy ass bulge from a gap in its coils, and wrapped itself around her neck. It kept oozing out of the wall. The snake was endless. The blackbirds sensed danger and squawked louder. The man saw the serpent, of course, but was too focused on fucking Rhodesia's ass to care. 

After the snake finished wrapping itself around Rhodesia, it twisted itself around the man's arm and slithered across his torso. It wrapped him up in its coils as well. The snake hissed in triumph and began to constrict. The man felt his balls compress as it squeezed him. Juice squirted out of his cock, painting Rhodesia's insides. The blackbirds fell silent out of respect or out of awe. When he was done ejaculating he pulled his cock from her puckered butthole, making a wet pop. The blackbirds flapped in the air and flew back to their nest. The snake, sensing that its work was done, unwrapped itself, retracted its length, and returned to its spot in the wall. The man reached down and replaced the fallen brick. At that moment, the blackbird that had stolen his eye returned. It perched on his cheek and returned the glittering diamond to the man's empty socket. The man winked at the bird and refocused and then laughed a hearty ha ha.

Rhodesia's body was slick with sweat. "Thank you," she whispered, still panting. The man slid her thong back and neatly arranged her skirt so that it covered her ass. Then he kissed her on the cheek and disappeared. Rhodesia patted her creases down and walked off with her beautiful shadow.