Author and illustrator of erotica (mostly author, my illustration skills need a lot of work) who writes about extreme and taboo kinks. Misogyny, Free-Use, humiliation, scat, piss, gore, bimbofication, and various other topics both physically and morally disgusting. In real life I’m tidy and kind-hearted, which is probably why I fetishize filth and cruelty. I’m an enby who’s a few years short of middle-age and exclusively attracted to female people, so anyone who wants to chat or RP should keep that in mind. Feel welcome to reblog any of my stories, it helps my audience grow. This is an age 18+ space.
A guide to my current stories (I’ll be updating this over the next several days to make it easier to find related stories and to find stories by kink)
Pervert Pentet:
By the Power of Friendship and Hentai! [Illustrated!](Exhibitionism, Enema-play, and Fart-fetish, with off-screen references to scat. Also a fair amount of humor)
Sharking Sherry
Part 1 (Public Nudity and Exhibitionism)
Bimbo Bailee
Part 1 (Bimbofication, Hypnosis)
Part 2 (Bimbofication, Hypnosis, Exhibitionism)
Torture-Lover Teira
Part 1 (Heavy Torture, Snuff)
Non-Consent Nancy
Part 1 (Rape, Bullying, Racism, Sexism, implied CSA, and just all sorts of bad, dark shit)
Part 2 (Heavy Brutal Rape, Transphobia, Sexism, Antisemitism, and a general tone of moral heinousness)
Potty-Mouth Piper
Part 1 (Scat, Piss, Farts, Butt-stuff, and everything yucky, but all with an adorable, romantic tone)
Part 2 (Scat, Piss, Farts, Butt-stuff, and everything yucky, but all with an adorable, romantic tone)
Part 3 (Scat, Piss, Farts, Butt-stuff, and everything yucky, but all with an adorable, romantic tone)
Sodom Virus Universe:
First Day of School
Introduction (Misogynist Society, Anal)
Part 1 [Illustrated!] (Misogynist Society, Female inferiority, Anal, Exhibitionism, Bullying, Public Humiliation)
Part 2 [Illustrated!] (Misogynist Society, Female inferiority, Anal, Exhibitionism, Bullying, Public Humiliation)
Any chance are you still working on the Sodom virus plot?
I still sometimes think about it, but I haven’t written anything in a long time. Mostly due to busyness, but partially because people haven’t seemed that interested.
(A Pervert Pentet story featuring Potty-Mouth Piper and Sharking Sherry)
Content Warning: While there are plenty of references to human-toilet type activities, none of them actually occur in this story. Though there is a bit of flatulence and a big enema scene at the end. Honestly, this was just kind of a fun one to write. Reading it back makes me smile or laugh in quite a few places
This is also my most illustrated story so far, and as you can see by the vastly changing art style, I’m still definitely finding a way of illustrating things in a way I enjoy. EDIT: Also, I apparently ran afoul of tumblr’s bots, so I censored the images here and linked to the uncensored versions posted on Twitter.
Sherry had settled into college life rather nicely by the beginning of her third year. There was a routine that was comfortable for her; her schoolwork was challenging but she prided herself on being smart as well as pretty. She excelled at math, which was good, but as she was becoming a young adult, Sherry wondered if the reason for that was because she worked harder on account of her belief that asian girls were supposed to be good at that sort of thing.
But none of that mattered right now. Right now, Sherry was at the park, hiding behind some bushes with her friend Josh, waiting for some cute girl to walk by in a little skirt that Sherry could yank up, or a tube top she could pull down. Josh was her camera-man, so his job was to get a good shot of the unsuspecting girl’s non-consensually exposed tits or pussies so that they could post it online later.
It was fall, so unfortunately most of the girls were starting to cover up. She was about to give up when a prime sharking candidate came into view. She was tall and skinny like a runway model, but she had this punky tomboy vibe. She had this big green flop of hair that hung over one side of her face, but the rest was short and dyed black. Most importantly, she was wearing this teensy little red-plaid skirt. The thing couldn’t have been more than six inches long!
She was holding hands with this red-headed girl who looked like almost her exact opposite. The red-head seemed a bit shy with this over-baggy knit sweater and brown khakis. The punky one was making googly eyes at her like they were high-school sweethearts. Wait, Sherry thought, Maybe they are!
“Josh! Do you think those are yuri girls??” Sherry whispered the exclamation at Josh.
“What?” Josh wasn’t as acquainted with Japanese culture as Sherry. In fact, he didn’t really share many of her interests, and he mostly just hung out with Sherry because of her penchant to “accidentally” expose herself. She was also pretty sexually aggressive in a bizarrely cute way. Case-in-point was her habit of asking him to film while she yanked strange girl’s clothes off in public.
“Yuris! You know, lesbians!” Sherry clarified, exasperated.
“I dunno, but the punk girl seems kinda… scary. Girls like that carry switchblades and shit.”
Sherry had pretty much stopped listening to Josh’s objections, she was focused on what might be under that little plaid skirt. Cotton panties? Boyshorts? G-string? Maybe even the holy grail, pantyless!
She couldn’t wait another second to find out, she was going in! Sherry pulled up the hood on her sweater and made her way casually to the gay girls who had stopped to talk. She didn’t even notice Josh excusing himself to leave, mumbling something about, “... she’s hot, but this is all getting too weird.”
Sherry was practiced at the maneuver that came next, she just had to act real casual, like she was just walking by. She had the advantage of being short, so she barely had to bend down to get a good grip on the hem of the punk girl’s skirt and with a sudden jerk, she pulled it up to the unsuspecting lesbian’s armpits.
She looked down to see nothing but naked skin beneath the garment! Pantyless! She finally found one! Her brain rushed to figure out what to do next; this was a rare opportunity to expose this girl’s secret shame to the world. She reached down to spread the girls ass and legs apart, and tried to angle it so Josh could get a good view of her most private areas from behind. Her eyes darted up to see where he was, but to her shock, she saw him walking away!
“JOSH!!! YOU DIDN’T GET THE SHOT!!!” She screamed after him.
Sherry was briefly frozen by awkwardness as she met the eyes of the now-exposed girl who was currently less than two feet away from her. A brief moment of stillness passed as she considered what to do.
“Eeep!” She exclaimed before slowly turning and running away as fast as she could.
***
Things for Mackenzie and Piper had been going really well over the last several months. The two of them had gotten an apartment that was really cheap because the previous tenant was a young trans man who had passed under tragic circumstances in the unit. Mackenzie initially had reservations about renting a place with such a tragic history, but after some thought, she decided that it felt right that when he looked down from Heaven, he’d see an queer couple turning the place where he felt so much pain into a place filled with love. She kept him in her prayers every night.
Of course Piper didn’t believe in any of that, nor did she really even understand how people could be religious, but she was coming around on at least being understanding about it.
The apartment had these stone tile floors that could accommodate the couple’s filthy love-making, along with Piper’s tendency to relieve herself whenever and wherever the need arose. The toilet rarely, if ever, got used. In fact, Piper got a tiny bit jealous if Mackenzie used anything but her mouth to piss or shit into.
Mackenzie didn’t seem to have a sense of jealousy with Piper. They identified as sexually polyamorous, but Mackenzie didn’t have any other partners. Piper technically had sex with a lot of men, but it was more that she welcomed anyone to use her asshole to masturbate into. Such encounters were always very casual and very platonic; with Piper’s demeanor making it clear that she was extremely gay and extremely comitted to Mackenzie. She often told charming anecdotes about her paramour to guys as they were pounding her in the shitter. Other times she’d just ignore it and carry on with whatever she was occupied with. Mackenzie VERY quickly came to see the appeal of Piper’s fetish for ignored grossness and ignored sex.
In fact, the only nagging worry Mackenzie had centered on was Piper’s tendency to hyperfocus. She had a few obsessions that superseded the rest: computer sciences, Alan Turing, and the many functions and uses of girl’s anuses (mainly her own), but Piper’s obsession with her had taken center stage lately.
Mackenzie fell in love with Piper for how daring she was. But whenever there was the slightest chance that she might be unhappy in any way, Piper suddenly seemed timid and desperate. It was understandable. Piper had never had a girlfriend before, and the more Mackenzie paid attention, it seemed like her male friends didn’t care about her that much beyond her free-use asshole and affinity for video games. Obviously it was expected that she’d be the most important thing in Piper’s life, they were going to get married someday, after all. It’s just that she didn’t want to be the ONLY important thing in Piper’s life.
College recently started for Piper, so the hope was that things would sort themselves out as the school-year progressed. She hadn’t mentioned any new friends, and mostly complained about what she called the “remedial” math class they’d put her in. It was actually the most advanced mathematics class she was supposed to be able to take as a Freshman, but she said it made her feel like a child. Piper’s mom was able to use her considerable powers of persuasion to advocate for her daughter and eventually got her transferred to the most advanced class she could be in without being enrolled in a Graduate Degree program. Piper still expected to be bored, but at least she was farther along the path to learning something that would interest her.
It was a small victory, but one Mackenzie wanted to celebrate by spending an afternoon together at the park. Piper needed to spend more time outside anyway.
“Are you having a good time?”
“Yes, Piper, I’m having a good time. You know you could spend some time looking around,” she gently suggested with a little laugh, “you don’t have to just look at me.”
“But why would I want to look at anything else when you’re here?” Piper replied with her dreamy-eyed stare locked on the conservatively dressed red-head.
Mackenzie sighed. “Actually, that kinda reminds me of something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“I’m sorry!” Piper blurted out. “Whatever I did, I’ll fix it. I’ll do anything! I love you, I’ll-”
“Piper.” Mackenzie cut her off firmly, looking at the love of her life; her brows now knitted together in desperate worry. “You are my soul-mate. I am going to marry you and spend the rest of my life with you.” She stated these things matter-of-factly, to reassure her. Piper eased up slightly. “But it’s scary feeling like I’m everything to you. It’s… it’s important to me that we share our lives with each other. I can’t just be the total focus of yours. I know you’d do anything for me, and… well that’s honestly not healthy. I want us to be equals, and I don’t want to have that kind of power over you.” She paused to think for a moment. “Meeting you, and then getting to be with you is the best thing that ever happened to me. Our relationship is my favorite thing in the world, but I also love my friends from Church, and I love writing, my family, and my relationship with God, and… and horror movies. So I feel like I have a life that is made infinitely better by having you be a part of it, but…. I guess I have things that are separate from you…. And I guess I feel like you’re not really living a full life unless you have things and people that are separate from me, and I want you to have a full life. Does that make sense?”
Piper looked contemplative for a long moment. “Yeah… Yeah! Yes. It does. I get obsessive about shit. I mean, that’s literal because I’m fucking obsessed with shit, but I know I get intense about stuff sometimes. I should probably read some psychology books and maybe relationship books? I’ve never been in a relationship before this one, so I guess I need to figure out, like, what I need to do to… contribute to… us both being happy… and healthy? Mentally?”
“I’d like that.” Mackenzie replied with a warm smile. Open communication was sometimes uncomfortable in any relationship, but at least with Piper, she generally responded logically. “And who knows?” She began as she took Piper’s hand and continued to walk with her, “Maybe you’ll make some new friends in college.”
Piper gave a skeptical laugh, and it seemed like she was about to say something but suddenly, this girl in a black hoodie and sunglasses came up behind them and yanked up Piper’s mini-skirt. Mackenzie was startled by the sudden assault, but the girl didn’t seem to be violent in any way. After Piper’s skirt was wedged up under her armpits, the diminutive stranger pulled Piper’s buttcheeks apart and looked off into the distance. She released her a moment later and shouted something about how someone “didn’t get the shot.”
What followed was an awkward moment where the strange girl just stared wide-eyed at Piper as Piper stared back with a curiously amused smirk. Then the stranger literally said the word “Eep'' and sprinted away.
“Uhh. Any idea what that was about?” Mackenzie asked with a laugh.
Piper shrugged. “No idea. Seemed like she wanted a picture of my butthole.”
“She should have just looked on your Facebook.”
“Nah, they banned me again.”
“Well maybe you should stop trying to make it your profile picture.” Mackenzie giggled.
“Hey, whose to say which end of the digestive system is appropriate for social media?” Piper joked. She still hadn’t done anything to adjust the skirt whose hem was now barely hanging past her navel.
“You should fix your skirt before someone calls security on us.”
“What? You mean you don’t like it like this?” Piper teased, waving her bare pussy in Mackenzie’s direction as a small handful of middle-aged park-goers eyed the duo. “Come on, I bet this is how everybody wears ‘em next year. That girl was probably the fashion police.”
They laughed together as Mackenzie pulled Piper’s skirt down to her waist before drawing her in for a kiss.
***
The rest of the weekend was a bit rough for Sherry. Her friendship with Josh had kind of fallen apart in the conversation following the incident at the park. His official explanation was that he “stuck around because she was really hot” but that he was “weirded out that she insisted on constantly acting like a pervy anime girl.”
“Well that’s his loss,” She said to herself at full conversational volume as she was walking to her first class on Monday, “If he can’t appreciate what I have to offer, I’ll just have to find someone who can! After all, how hard can it be to find someone who appreciates a life filled with boobs and butts?” Sherry got a few strange looks as she made the strangely expositional speech to herself.
If anything, Sherry had leaned even farther into the cutesy schoolgirl look when she started going to college. There wasn’t really a dress code to say her skirt was too short or anything. She made a particular effort to be cute today, but at the moment she had to get her mind focused on class. She was good at math, but she worried that she’d bitten off a little more than she could chew with this particular course. It really required her full focus.
It was one of the smaller classrooms, with only a couple dozen seats. Sherry sat in the back because while she enjoyed other people looking at her, it also distracted her. She had a few minutes until class began and she spent it reviewing her notes.
Eventually the Professor entered and began speaking. Sherry scrolled to a blank page on her notes document, but her mind latched onto a strange spot of green in her peripheral vision. She turned her head.
Sherry gasped! It was her! The pantyless girl from the park! What could she be doing here, she wondered. Did she track me down somehow? Was she mad? Calm down, maybe it’s just a coincidence and she just happens to be taking the same class.
Sherry glanced back at the girl. She was staring right at her! Sherry began to sweat. What were you thinking? Of course it’s not a coincidence! Does this really look like the type of girl who wants to learn about the Cholesky decomposition of symmetric matrices??
“Hey.” The whispered greeting from the green-haired girl made Sherry jump in her seat, “You’re the girl from the park who wanted to take pictures of my butthole, right?” Sherry remained nervously silent.
The girl next to her shifted in her seat, Sherry saw her lean sideways to reveal that she was still naked beneath her scandalously short skirt. The green haired girl grabbed her ass and spread it, revealing her pink pussy and equally pink anus. Sherry’s eyes widened as she realized what the girl was doing. Here?? Now? In the middle of a math class?
The green haired girl didn’t seem remotely rushed to cover herself back up. As far as Sherry could tell, she was perfectly content to sit there with her most intimate areas on full display to anyone who happened to be looking at her. Was this for real? Is this girl a real-live pervert like me?? Sherry thought to herself as she grabbed her phone.
Fortunately, Sherry was always careful to keep the flash and the shutter-sound on her phone turned off. She learned that the hard way in her early days of snapping upskirt pics. She got a few close-up pictures first, then she moved backward to be sure that she could capture the girl’s face in the same picture as her holes.
In a somehow even more shocking display of vulgarity, the girl slipped a finger up her asshole for a brief moment before putting it in her mouth in a flirtatious pose. Sherry got a few more pictures. She couldn’t believe this was really happening! This was like a dream! Was this girl really just going to let her take all these pictures and do whatever she wanted with them? Sherry was already thinking of all the websites she could post them to!
As Sherry was beginning to wonder if she’d just met her new best friend, a strange noise suddenly echoed through the room, briefly overtaking the drone of the professor. It at first sounded like air being let out of a balloon, but soon deepened to a strange croak.
“What was that?” the professor asked suddenly as he turned around.
The green haired girl piped up, “Oh, sorry! This girl was taking pictures of my butthole and I farted really loud.” The mild sulphur smell that followed a moment later confirmed that she was being honest. Sherry mentally noted that the girl didn’t use the word “accidentally.”
Sherry felt a type of embarrassment that she hadn’t felt in a long time. Her new friend’s lack of shame threatened to out her for her perversions; though it’s not as though Sherry was particularly secretive with them anymore. But beyond that, she’d become distracted at a time she’d meant to focus.
It looked like Sherry didn’t need to worry. Everyone’s attention was on the green-haired girl. And in all likelihood, the professor would realize she didn’t belong and kick her out. Then Sherry could redeem herself by spending the rest of the class trying to catch up on what she missed.
The professor looked irritated for a moment, but then softened. In fact, he almost appeared pleased with an idea that popped into his head. “Miss Lindeholm, I recognize that this class might seem too simple to keep your attention. So why don’t you focus on helping your classmates learn? I know this is your first class, but I understand you’re up to date on what we’ve covered so far this semester, yes? Would you like to come up and lead us in a review?”
Sherry’s mind reeled. … wait, what?
The girl popped up and headed to the front of the class. “Fuck yeah, I love talking about cool shit like this.” She turned to introduce herself to the class. “Uhh, hi. I’m Piper. I just got here, but I used to like reading about this kind of math when I was like eleven. I actually had an older edition of this textbook. When I was a kid, they said I had savantism, but they don’t really use that term anymore. Umm, I moved in with my fiance a few months ago, I’m psyched as fuck about that. We’re dykes; we do a lot of butt stuff. Umm, my personal hero is Alan Turing and-” she paused her overly forthright introduction as she seemed to realize it was enough. “So anyway, chapter one began…”
Piper continued on for the rest of the class period in what was, perhaps, the most peculiar lecture taking place on the planet that day. She explained the arithmetic interactions of matrices by asking the class to visualize a very neatly organized orgy with “cocks” representing one matrix and “holes” representing another. She attributed traits such as length and girth to the cocks at first, but eventually factored in strap-ons, dildos, and vibrators as additional elements along with ejaculatory volume and time to orgasm as she went over more complex mathematical interactions. The “holes” matrices became equally intricate over the next two hours.
But the thing is, it kinda made sense to Sherry. It actually really made sense. As she looked around the classroom and listened to the questions the other students asked, it seemed like she wasn’t the only one who thought so.
The professor spent most of the period quietly laughing to himself and shaking his head, not quite believing he was letting this happen, but not entirely wanting to stop it.
When class ended, Sherry rushed out to catch up with Piper, who had collected her things and walked out absentmindedly. “Piper!” she called out after her. The slender girl turned to face her.
“Oh, hi.” she seemed unsure of exactly what to do. Sherry got the sense that wheels were turning in the girl’s mind.
“My name is Sherry. I just wanted to ask” Sherry paused meaningfully, “Are you a pervert?” Her tone was hopeful, and almost seemed as though ‘pervert’ was some special designation or secret society of people in her mind.
There was an awkward few seconds as Piper and Sherry made awkward eye contact. “Yes.” Piper eventually replied decisively, albeit questioningly. “Is that… good?”
“That’s great! I’m a pervert, too!”
All the tension seemed to drain out of Piper’s body at that moment. “Oh, good. I used to just do and say whatever-the-fuck and then not give a shit if people thought I was weird. But my fiance has friends, and a family who’d probably be weirded out if they knew how much I ate out of her ass and pissed on the floor and shit. So I’m trying to practice not being weird when I first meet people. Hey, is it the right time to ask you if we can be friends yet?”
“Oh! This is all happening so fast!” Sherry replied with a giggle. “It’s definitely the right time to ask, and the answer is yes, I’d love to be your friend! I’ve actually never met another female pervert!”
There was a part of Piper that was still waiting for the other shoe to drop socially, but so far Sherry seemed like a weirdo who enjoys taking pictures of strange girl’s buttholes, so as far as Piper was concerned, that was a point in her favor.
There was a brief moment of pause in which neither girl quite had the experience to know what to do in the situation of a new formally-declared friendship, but thankfully the silence was broken by a passerby.
“Hey! Fart-girl!” The voice came from one of the guys that had been in the class.
Piper turned to face the approaching student, “Did you just call me fart-girl?”
“Oh, sorry I didn’t mean-”
“Because that’s fucking awesome! It makes me sound like a superhero with a magic shithole or something. I mean, my shithole is pretty nice already, but it doesn’t do anything special. Well, I guess sometimes when I fart, some rando’s cock-snot shoots out, but that’s not really a superpower.”
“Uhhh…. ummm…. wow. Okay, so anyway I actually have kind of a hard time with math, and it seems like you really understand it. And the way you explained it was so crazy that I feel like that’s going to stick in my brain forever? So I wanted to know if you offer tutoring or anything.”
It looked like the wheels were turning in Piper’s head. “People would pay me to talk about math??” The young man nodded enthusiastically in response. “Well then!” Piper declared as she puffed out her nearly flat chest and dramatically put her fists on her hips, “Fart-girl is here to help!”
***
“Apparently it’s a thing called sharking.” Piper explained as Mackenzie was attending to her fiance’s new friend, “Sherry says it started in Japan.”
Mackenzie listened intently as Piper introduced the new friend she’d brought unexpectedly to the apartment. She was playing the good host, brewing a pot of green tea for Sherry while discreetly filling a mug with her own hot piss for Piper. She placed the mugs in front of the two girls and sat down.
“It’s the best!” Sherry continued from where Piper left off, “Especially if you like looking at girls boobs and butts. Sometimes it’s staged, but the best is when it’s a total surprise! I actually got to star in a few videos, maybe I can show you later.” In that moment, Sherry’s nose scrunched up for a brief moment, “Piper, your tea smells… interesting.”
Piper beamed for a moment, as if about to announce some great accomplishment, she lovingly took Mackenzie's hand in hers and announced, “I get to drink her pee.” Her tone was almost boastful. Mackenzie blushed and grinned sheepishly for a moment, before her eyes made their way to Sherry. She could tell the Japanese girl expected to see embarrassment at her lover’s comment, but there was none of that. She was gently scrutinizing Sherry, waiting to determine if this new girl would be open-minded enough to be welcomed into their lives or if she’d have to spring to Piper’s defense.
“Wow! You must really love each other,” Sherry remarked thoughtfully, “I’ve never had a boyfriend who wanted to drink my pee.”
The slight tension in Mackenzie’s shoulders went slack as Piper replied, “Hey, well if you ever want someone to drink your piss, I’m all about that. And I guess since we’re friends now, you can take a shit in my mouth whenever you want, too.” she turned to Mackenzie, “If that’s okay with you, of course. Are you okay with me sucking poop out of other girl’s buttholes?”
Mackenzie took a deep breath and nodded enthusiastically with a reassuring smile. She looked a bit flush and felt her nipples suddenly harden against her floral button-down shirt. Of all the blessings that came with sharing a life with Piper, getting to have her own private porn-star was among Mackenzie’s favorites.
“Oh!” Mackenzie said as a sudden thought popped into her head, “Speaking of which, that… stuff we ordered got here this morning. Maybe since Sherry seems to like taking pictures, umm, she could... “
“Oh! Fucking rad! Hey Sherry, remember how I was telling that guy who called me ‘Fart-girl’ about how I sometimes get jizz-farts when a bunch of dudes jerk their dicks with my shitpipe? ‘Kenzie thinks it’s super hot when that happens, but most guys don’t squirt enough cock-juice to totally fill my butthole so she found this cum-lube stuff and we bought, like, literal fucking buttloads of it so that she can watch me just explode fake-cum out of my fart-box. Wanna take pictures while we try it out?”
Sherry looked thrilled as she listened to one of Piper’s signature strings of vulgarity-laden prose. “You know, Piper, it’s really exciting listening to you talk! I never thought I’d get to be friends with a girl as perverted as I am! And the answer is yes! I’d love to take pictures for you! Maybe I could even do it, too? I mean, I certainly don’t want to make a bad first impression, so it seems like the best thing for me to do is to be as perverted as possible so that I can prove myself to my new friends!!” This last sentence was punctuated by Sherry leaping to her feet and thrusting a finger skyward in a cartoonish display of enthusiasm.
However, in doing so, she knocked over her tea, which spilled onto the stone-tile floor. “Oh no! You invited me into your home and I’ve made a mess!” Sherry dropped to her knees and pressed her forehead against the floor in the dogeza position. “Please forgive me! I’ll accept any punishment you want to give me!”
Piper and Mackenzie looked at each other briefly. “Umm, you might not want to put your face so close to the, uhh, the floor? Piper kinda… poops on there.”
Sherry sniffed briefly, her forehead still pressed to the file, “.... I can tell.”
***
“So… do ya like her?” Piper asked as Sherry was taking her clothes off and practicing ahegao faces in the mirror in the room behind them, “I’m realizing that she’s a little bit of a weirdo.”
“Best not to bring her around anymore, then. You know that I have no tolerance for girls who are the slightest bit unusual.” Mackenzie teased as she opened up the jug of cum-lube and laid out a large enema syringe. After a few seconds of silence, Mackenzie looked to see Piper mentally trying to unravel the puzzle she’d inadvertently given. “Oh! I like her. A lot. I was using sarcasm, sorry.”
A satisfied smile appeared on Piper’s face, “I would have gotten that.”
There was a brief pause, “How many seconds ago was I born?”
“Seven-hundred-fifty-one-million, eleven-thousand aaaand... ,” Piper briefly checked the time on her phone, “two-hundred four, roughly.”
They smiled at each other; Mackenzie knew Piper sometimes felt dumb when it comes to interpreting subtext, so she liked reminding her how smart she really was. “By the way, who was calling you ‘fart-girl’ at school?”
“It was just this guy who was in class with me and Sherry. She was taking some upskirt pics of my butthole and I farted really loud, and I think the professor thought I was trying to get attention, so he sort of let me teach the class. Then afterward the guy called me “fart-girl” and asked if I could tutor him in math. I hope it catches on! I was thinking it’d be cool to make some “Fart-girl tutors math” flyers and put them around campus.
“Piper-san! I can’t stand waiting any longer! Please, fill me up and show me what it’s like to be a true pervert!” Sherry called in a desperate baby-doll whine from the other room.
Most surfaces in their studio apartment were prepared for various types of “spillage,” but everything in proximity to the bed on which Sherry was now waving her naked ass was especially resistant to bodily fluids.
Piper got in position next to Sherry on the bed, ready to hold her surprisingly shapely ass open while Mackenzie took pictures. The filled, half-liter enema syringe laid in wait, the tip gently oozing a thick, milky white drop onto the neoprene-fabric bedsheet.
“I feel like I should check,” Mackenzie said between taking pictures of her fiance spreading the asian girl’s buttcrack, “Is this moving too fast? I mean, this is technically the first time we’re meeting.”
Sherry, on hands and knees, looked back, “Well, if we want to get technical, I did spread Piper’s ass so someone could take pictures of her holes the first time we met, so this seems like a fair exchange!”
“Plus,” Piper added, still spreading Sherry’s ass, “I didn’t even know your name the first time I unloaded my bowels in your face, just that you were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen.”
“Wait, that really happened??” Sherry asked in delighted surprise.
“Yup, high school assembly. What can I say, that’s how I flirt!”
“Okay! I’m convinced,” Mackenzie replied with a shrug, “Let’s get to the fun part.” She proceeded to pick up the enema syringe and shoved the well-lubed nozzle up Sherry’s little anus.
“Eeek!”
She let Piper take the tube from her so that she could step back and continue acting as photographer for the scene. Piper placed her palm on the plunger and began to push gently.
“Mmm! I can feel you filling me up, Piper-san! It feels so good!” she moaned.
Mackenzie blushed slightly at the lewd noises Sherry constantly emitted. She’d become used to Piper’s vulgarity, but her vocalizations at the apex of their strap-on sessions were generally more along the lines of a tomboyish “Fuck yeah! Solid dick-work, babe!” The girlish whines and moans actually made the red-head giggle awkwardly.
“Uh! Uh! More! I want to take so much for you!” Sherry writhed, even with Piper’s arm over her hips to keep her still.
Piper continued slowly compressing the plunger, wondering how much of Sherry’s pleasure was performative, “We’ve got to go slow with this, it needs a little time to work its way deeper into your shit-pipe and to warm up to your body temperature.”
“I can feel it going inside me! Eeeaah!”
“‘Bout halfway in now. Ya ever consider voice acting in hentai? Bet there’s plenty of dude’s who’d jerk out all their nut juice just from the audio of this kinda shit.”
After a few more minutes of emptying the enema tube into Sherry’s bowels, along with Sherry’s orgasmically lewd narration of the process, Piper withdrew the syringe and absentmindedly licked the nozzle clean.
“I’m so full, pervert-senpai! You pumped so much of your cum inside me, I don’t think I can hold it much longer!”
“Well, ‘Kenzie’s got the camera in position, so whenever you get tired of clenching your shit-pipe, just let loose and cum-blast me right in the mouth.” Piper said with a reassuring slap on the ass-cheek. She knelt down behind Sherry and eye-balled the trajectory so that when the enema exploded out of Sherry’s asshole, she could get as much as possible to shoot straight down her throat.
They both stared into Sherry’s twitching anus for several seconds, the girl seemed to be enjoying the mass of the cumlube in her bowels and struggled to keep it inside. The combination of pleasure and exertion began to slicken her skin with perspiration.
“There’s so much of it inside my ass! It’s going to come out soon!”
There was an excited tension building within the room, everyone waiting for the strength of Sherry’s anus to finally give way…
“I can’t hold it anymore, Piper-san! It’s going to explode out of meeeeeeaaaaAAAAAHHH!”
The cumlube exploded out of Sherry’s asshole like a fire-hose. The spray hit Piper in the uvula hard enough that she almost gagged for the first time in nearly a decade. The thick, warm goo filled her mouth faster than she could gulp it down. The force of Sherry’s anal explusion splashed against the fake semen filling her mouth before it even had a chance to drip down Piper’s chin.
The sustained, forceful jet of anally expelled cum began to slow, though just barely, as it turned to a sputtering spray of cum-farts that splattered across Piper’s face and a good distance across the apartment floor. Her face and green hair soon became obscured by the layers of translucent white goo being sprayed upon it by the girl’s garden-hose bowels.
The cum-splorting sound was eventually overtaken by Sherry’s mewling of pleasure, with only an occasional spurt from her anus, and the odd incidence of flatulent jizz-mist.
Sherry seemed spent by the ordeal, and lay face down, ass up on the bed. Sweat pooled around her body, as did drool from the tongue that had been hanging out of her mouth continuously for the last several seconds. The last bits of cumlube dribbled out of her exposed butthole and oozed down her smooth, glistening pussy.
Piper meanwhile, was grinning and wide-eyed, frantically scooping handfuls of the warm, thick anal explusions into her mouth; pausing occasionally to give a kid-in-a-candy-store smile to Mackenzie as she continued to document the scene with her camera. Piper slurped and gulped loudly, often pressing her tongue to the floor to eagerly consume the ass-slime that her new friend had been so recently storing in her bowels.
Finally the green-haired pervert had mostly cleaned the butt-sludge off of her body and floor and set her sights on the dribbling hole in front of her. Piper slapped her face between Sherry’s cheeks so hard that it surely stung for both of them. A loud sucking sound dominated the room as she tried to drain the last contents of the Asian girl’s bowels with the same force as trying to draw a thick milk-shake through a straw.
Sherry once again went cross eyed and shuddered in pleasure as Piper’s skillful and greedy mouth sucked and licked at her shit-hole. After a few minutes, the pair had settled into a more relaxed posture, with Sherry contentedly resting her eyes as she lay in the fetal position, with Piper gently sucking on her butthole like a pacifier.
A small shock of worry crossed Piper’s mind suddenly; she hadn’t seen or heard ‘Kenzie over the last couple minutes. Had Piper gotten carried away eating out Sherry’s asshole? Was Mackenzie hurt or jealous?
Piper’s worries were put to rest as the now-naked ivory skinned form entered the room. Mackenzie was grinning ear to ear as she held the heft of a freshly refilled cum-lube dispenser.
Mackenzie bit her lip with a delightfully sinister glint in her eye as she gestured at Piper to get in position on the bed; holding the jumbo enema syringe as if it were a weapon.
Check out this teaser image of Sharking Sherry from my upcoming illustrated story!
I’m getting close to finishing the first new thing I’ve written and illustrated in over a year, in which Sherry and Piper first meet. I’ve been trying to simplify my art “style” so that I can actually get more drawings done. (though at this point I’m too new to art for a consistent style to really emerge yet) Honestly, a lot of my old drawings look very overworked to me. But on the plus side, simplifying things means that this story will have three full color illustrations!
Since it’s been so long, I thought it might be a good idea to give a review on some of my characters.
Potty-Mouth Piper: A punky fetishist for all things filth, Piper is an autistic savant with a poor ability to understand what’s socially appropriate. Rather than constantly guessing at what neurotypical people consider “proper” and dealing with the constant worry of failing, she elected instead to forever be “improper.” This way, she’d never need to be anxious about people’s attitude towards her suddenly changing when she said or did something inappropriate. It’s become second-nature for her to say and do things in the most vulgar and obscene way possible. Her penchant for swallowing piss and shit is an everyday part of her life, as is her policy of “Ass 2 Mouth 4 Ever” which she has tattooed on the side of her head (which she practices *not* in the sense that anything that’s been in her ass goes directly into her mouth, but in the more extreme sense that anything she puts in her mouth *must* have been inside her’s or someone else’s ass).
Sharking Sherry: The daughter of a Japanese father and an American mother, Sherry was largely raised by a mom who accommodated her desire to connect to her Asian ancestry by giving her unlimited (and un-monitored) access to anime. Sherry’s mother seemed under the delusion that anything animated was appropriate for children and didn’t realize that young Sherry was spending her formative years being inundated with a number of very “adult” themes about gender and sexuality. As she came into adulthood, she’d internalized the idea that female embarrassment (particularly the embarrassment public exposure) was a source of humor and delight. So when she learned about the Japanese trend of “sharking,” (the act of involuntarily exposing a strange woman in public while someone else films it to put online), she loved the idea. During her year abroad in Japan, she had the opportunity to be on both sides of the act, and became addicted. Her personality is defined by her almost cartoonish devotion to behaving like an oversexed anime girl.
Mackenzie: Mackenzie is Piper’s fiance. She is a timid red-headed lesbian that was raised in a fastidious Christian household. Her parents believed their religion compelled them to practice radical love and kindness, going so far as to take young Mackenzie to LGBT events at the first sign that their daughter might be gay. As she grew up, Mackenzie began to fetishize filth, a taboo that felt so foreign and inappropriate to the tidy and squeaky-clean Christian girl. She developed a secret hobby of masturbating to scat porn and fantasizing about women who were overtly and proudly gross. So when she met Piper, they quickly fell head-over-heels in love. Mackenzie had found someone sweet and quirky and affectionate who could also be her personal porn star; and Piper found someone that was actually charmed every single time she said or did something gross or weird.
Starting to legitimately get back into writing lately. I actually have most of the story where Potty-Mouth Piper and Sharking Sherry first meet. In the mean-time, I think I’m going to start making shorter, less narrative posts that just expand on a kinky idea or maybe expand on the lore in one of my stories. Hmm, come to think of it, I could always share elements of lore from the Sodom Virus Universe. Feel welcome to send asks about any concepts or characters from any of my stories!
Normalize girls having a designated “Free Use Hole” that anyone in their life is welcome to use. It’s a great way to get girls used to the idea of being used for sex at any time while still allowing the shy or hesitant to take the leap while maintaining a bit of control.
For example, if a girl is a lesbian or just isn’t that into intimacy with strangers, she can just decide that her butthole is Free Use, but everything else is off limits. That way, if a friend or coworker finds her attractive, she doesn’t need to deal with awkward flirtations or harassment, she can just bend over and take a load in her ass, then everyone goes on with their day. Hell, she probably doesn’t even need to stop texting with her girlfriend.
If a girl likes meeting new people or she just enjoys edging throughout the day, maybe she’ll let everyone know that her pussy is her “Free Use Hole.” It’d give her plenty of excuses to lie down and take a pleasure break while others enjoy her cunt. Plus, she’d have lots of opportunities for face-to-face conversation if she’s the chatty type.
Other girls might be shy about showing their body in public and prefer to stay fully clothed while friends and strangers use their mouth. Or maybe she just has an oral fixation! A girl could even be orally Free Use as a weight-loss strategy. It’s pretty hard to fill up on unhealthy snacks if you spend your break-time with a mouth full of random cocks.
I think there’s a chance this idea could even catch on with feminists! If even a quarter of attractive women adopted the “Free Use Hole” philosophy, imagine how much it’d reduce rape and sexual harassment. On top of that, every man would have the chance to learn what affirmative sexual consent from a pretty girl looks like. Feminists would see free use women as heroes who are making a sacrifice to protect women’s rights.
Obviously this is only a first step towards teaching women their proper place as public fuck-holes, but I think it’s a great way to gradually get everyone used to the idea of women’s bodies being public property!
I don’t, actually. At least none planned. It’s kind of low on my list of kinks. Thanks for the ask, though! I’ve had a rough time writing lately and knowing that there are people reading definitely helps my motivations a bit!
First Day of School (Part of the Sodom Virus Chronicles), part 2
Second Subject: Gym Class
Ricki had tried to meditate for the first time in an attempt to calm her nerves. She didn’t exactly know how it was done, but she knew that the likelihood of some magical deus ex machina swooping in to rescue her was close to nil. She was going to have to learn to live in this world whether she liked it or not. Besides, it’s not as if the other girls seemed like they were particularly unhappy.
She stayed away from the window, but some of the girls crawled out to meet with other girls or boys. Best she could tell, aggressively kissing one another is how girls greeted each other. While they addressed males by sort of facing them with downcast eyes for an expectant moment. Sometimes the men engaged them in conversation, some groped them, while others snapped their fingers to command the girl onto her knees or into other positions. It seemed that there were some universally understood hand-gestures that directed girls into one position or the other. Ricki tried to appreciate the opportunity to be a part of this new culture, but she couldn’t fully dismiss her anxieties as she watched Sharaje being anally hate-fucked by two guys in a row. They both used her mouth afterward.
After a few minutes, there was a tone that seemed to signal that they should make their way to the next class. Ricki had managed to make it all the way to second period with her virginity intact, but she had a feeling she may not make it to the end of the day.
Sharaje quickly retrieved a mirror and some wet-wipes from her bag to clean her anus; she angled the mirror to check that her rear-entrance was picture perfect before fixing her hair and lipstick with expert speed. She then bounded happily up to Ricki and took her hand, “Sorry for making you wait, stupid. My asshole is a really popular place for men to cum.”
The pair of them walked hand-in-hand down the hall, “Do you know where we’re going, or are you too much of a retarded fuckhole?” Sharaje asked.
Ricki wasn’t sure where they were going, she hadn’t been given much information, other than where her first class was; she was led to believe that Sharaje would get her up to speed from there. “Umm, no, the man in the front office didn’t tell me much.”
Sharaje stopped short and her expression went stern. She gave Ricki a firm, corrective slap in the face. “Ricki! I know you’re new to the outside world, but it’s never okay to blame your failures on a man! I’ve been assigned to take care of you, and if you get declared a feminist within a certain period of time, I’m going to be punished. So let’s try this again, why don’t you know what class is next?”
“Because I’m a retarded fuckhole.” Ricki spoke with the tone of a girl broken.
“Again.” Sharaje demanded.
“I’m a retarded fuckhole.” She repeated in a lackluster tone.
“Don’t act like you’re being forced, shit-lips.”
That particular insult made Ricki cringe. She knew it was a reference to her dark labia that had been mercilessly mocked by the class a few minutes before. She decided to use the hurt to speak decisively, “I’m a retarded fuckhole!” She spoke loud enough that a few other students passing by in the hall snickered at her.
“That’s a good cunt.” Sharaje said as she rubbed the side of her head as if petting an animal, which Ricki supposed was the best way women could be regarded here. Her mind latched onto something her “friend” had said. If she failed to assimilate and got sent to one of the feminist “repositories,” Sharaje would get punished? Was she only being mean to try to get Ricki accustomed to this society as quickly as possible? Because something really bad might happen to her if she failed?
Maybe the two of them really could be friends. Maybe Ricki was actually lucky in a way. After all, it seemed like Sharaje was thriving in this world, maybe she could learn how to thrive, too.
The two girls continued walking together to someplace that Sharaje either forgot to or intentionally neglected to tell her. She noticed that all of the female students and many of the male students seemed to be heading in the same direction. Eventually, they made their way out through the large double doors that opened upon what appeared to be a large athletics field. Just beyond that was a waist-high fence and then a busy street. It seemed like every girl in the school was out here.
She got lost briefly trying to figure out what was going on when Sharaje gave her a firm, yet somehow friendly slap between the legs. “Over here.” She pointed to several rows of square lockers. Ricki followed as she made her way to a particular one. “We can share mine until you get your own.” As she spoke, she hooked her fingers under the bottom of her shirt and flipped it off in one swift motion. She opened the locker, folded the garment neatly, and placed it inside.
Ricki was stunned. She knew by now that she shouldn’t be, but she couldn’t help it. This wasn’t a locker room or a changing room. It wasn’t a room at all! It was just rows of lockers on an exterior wall. She could see lines of cars going past just a few dozen feet away. Along with pedestrians of various ages. Some of whom stopped to watch as a few hundred teen girls all stripped publicly naked in unison.
She knew that resistance was hopeless. At least this time, she wouldn’t be the only one exposed. She began to undress and placed her shirt and bra timidly in the locker next to Sharaje’s things. Sharaje, meanwhile, had produced a small bottle of solvent from her bag and was painting it onto her butt to dissolve the glue that ensured the spreader-jeans kept her holes perpetually exposed. It was an irony that taking her pants off would actually allow more modesty in her case.
The two girls had just finished undressing when Ricki noticed a girl emerge from the double doors. She had apparently taken her time on account of the fact that she was already naked as the day she was born. She also looked strong… really strong. She had this vibe like a bad-ass lady superhero from old comic books. Except a more teen-aged version.
Her and Sharaje exchanged a grin that wasn’t entirely friendly and the new girl walked over. Sharaje spoke first, “Hey Loose Caboose, ready to tongue kiss the tightest asshole in the school?” She turned her hips to spread her ass in the muscular girl’s general direction.
“Well, I would kiss the tightest one in the school, but I’m not flexible enough to reach my own yet.” The tone suggested a friendly rivalry, but in Ricki’s mind, she had to process for a moment. Their rivalry was about who had the tighter anus?? She had a brief sinking feeling; is that what all the girls were going to be doing today? Testing how tight their buttholes were???
She’d tried to hold her tongue for fear of saying something wrong, but she had to ask this time. “Umm, excuse me, cunt?” she tried to speak to other women disrespectfully, but it still felt awkward, and she was certain it sounded as such, too. “What are you talking about? What’s happening today?”
Both girls stared at her, but thankfully Sharaje didn’t let the silence linger too long. “Oh, this is Dephile. She’s a rapist!”
“I’m not just a rapist. I’m the best rapist in the state.” Dephile declared proudly.
“Only for high school.” Sharaje shot back derisively.
“Choke on a dick, you fat slunt, I have scouts for college rape teams all over me.”
Ricki was confused. “Wait, what do you mean she’s a rapist?” The question was addressed at Sharaje.
“Wow, your stupid cult didn’t even let you watch tv?? Rape has become pretty much the biggest sport over the last, like, ten or fifteen years. Two sluts get into a ring and try to win points by penetrating each other’s holes. There’s like a different number of points for-”
Sharaje was interrupted when Dephile slammed her forcefully against the lockers and leveraged her arm against her back. “Maybe you should let an athlete explain it, soft-bodied whore.”
Dephile’s body was extraordinary, watching her exert herself to hold a struggling Sharaje in place allowed Ricki to see the smooth, defined muscles writhe beneath her skin. She continued her explanation. “A rapist wins point by violating the holes of her opponent. That can be done through penetration, like the stupid skank here said,” Dephile then demonstrated by jamming two fingers dry up Sharaje’s asshole. It was clear that she was clenching hard to resist, her body thrashed but Dephile’s strong grip kept her pinned against the lockers, the powerful fingers dry-forcing their way inside. “Or she can win points by defilement, like so.”
Dephile performed a maneuver so quickly that Ricki wouldn’t even begin to be able to describe it, but it ended with Sharaje bent back on her knees and her face clamped between Dephile’s legs. Her mouth was pressed firmly against the strong woman’s cunt as she began to piss, with impressive accuracy, straight up Sharaje’s nostrils. She began to choke and cough, but Dephile was using her smooth cunt to gag her, ensuring that there was no way to get air without sucking urine through her nose.
When she’d finally emptied her bladder onto Sharaje’s face, ensuring that a decent amount ended up in her lungs, she finally released her face from the death-grip of her thighs. She went to stand up, but Dephile apparently wasn’t done with her, yet. After a sweep of the legs, Sharaje was face down with Dephile kneeling on the small of her back. “Of course, double points are awarded any time a rapist can force a self-violation.” She demonstrated this by gripping Sharaje’s hand tightly and wrenching her arm back so that she could sodomize the girl with her own fingers.”
Finally, she released the thrashing Sharaje and took a step backward to allow her room to stand. “I have a match after school today. You cunts should come cheer for me!”
Sharaje stood and wiped the piss and snot and tears from her flawless arabian features. “Gee, thanks for explaining, Dephile.” Her words oozed with sarcasm, “Say ‘thank you,’ Ricki.”
“Umm, thank you!” Ricki said, seeming almost surprised by her own words.
It was about this time that all three girls noticed that nearly everyone else in the class had lined up near the fence of the school. By this point, Ricki was able to deduce that the purpose was to place the girls as close to the public as possible to maximize their humiliation.
A group of middle-school aged boys leaned on the fence casually a few feet away and just admired the wall of naked teen girl-flesh as they chatted amongst themselves.
There were a few women who looked old enough to be teachers standing in front of the line facing the girls. But it seemed that most of the instructors were simply athletic students. Dephile had a group a bit farther down. Once all the girls were in position, the naked girls acting as instructors prompted them all to go through a course of basic calisthenics.
Ricki was sweating and out of breath after the first few exercises. She looked around to see that she was seemingly the only one. While not all the other students had particularly athletic-looking physiques, they were apparently all unquestionably in-shape. The exercises continued. The line of naked sluts extended, flexed, bent, and twisted in enough different directions to ensure that every muscle in their bodies was lithe and supple. The others made it look easy, but Ricki was actually getting light-headed by the time they were told to go for a jog around the perimeter of the school.
Ricki was the last one of the group to make it back to her position, having spent the last ten minutes staring out over a sea of slick, jiggling asses moving progressively farther from her. It took all her strength not to collapse on the spot. She was dripping with sweat and wheezing. Sharaje and the others, she noticed, had nearly caught their breath by the time she returned, and their skin had a healthy glow of faint perspiration. Ricki thought she must be more out of shape than she realized, and hoped that there would be a break soon.
Thankfully, the next segment of class seemed to center around stretching. It was a chance to get her heart-rate under control. Although her profound lack of proficiency soon became apparent. Ricki never thought of herself as stiff, but these other girls had a level of limberness that seemed more appropriate to dancers or gymnasts. While Ricki could touch her toes, most of the other students had their large fleshy tits bulging out as they pressed their chests against their knees. When they were instructed to lay on their backs for a groin stretch, Ricki seemed to be the only girl she could see not doing a full split. Sharaje actually had her feet pressed to the ground roughly in line with her shoulders, legs spread well past a hundred-eighty degrees.
Ricki had caught her breath, but the lightheadedness still hadn’t totally faded. She did, however, have to admit that this society certainly promoted a much higher level of fitness than the Compound ever did. Maybe that’s why all the girls seemed so happy in spite of everything that was going on? She remembered reading about how stretching can stimulate happy chemicals in the brain, and these girls certainly seem to do a lot of it.
She was shaken back to attention by the P.E. teacher explaining something about testing and ranking their holes? A part of her really hoped that wouldn’t be a horrible, humiliating, degrading experience, but she expected that it probably would be.
The teacher led them all to a different section of the field. The first thing she noticed was a bunch of rectangular blocks about knee high and roughly four feet long. The second thing she noticed was the very prominent scoreboard that spanned one of the school's higher walls. On it seemed to be the name of every girl in the school. Actually, she noticed, every girl’s name was on it twice. The left section was labelled “Anal” and the right section was labelled “Vaginal.” From top to bottom had a smaller label that read “tightest” at the top and “loosest” at the bottom.
Was this really happening?? Was this school really going to test how tight her asshole and pussy were? And then post them up on a scoreboard for…. not just the whole school, but also anyone who happened to pass by?!? The thing that made her most sick to her stomach was the knowledge that if she performed as badly on this as she did on everything else, she’d almost certainly rank at the bottom. Her eyes darted to the very top of the board. The anal side had two names she knew. In first place Sharaje, just beneath her, Dephile. The vaginal scoreboard was reversed, with Dephile seeming to have the tightest cunt and Sharaje coming in second. Then she noticed Sharaje’s name again, in what appeared to be a place of honor above both lists. “Tightest hole: Sharaje’s anus” That must have been what the two of them were teasing each other about earlier. Sharaje’s taunt of “Loose Caboose” made more sense now. Ricki inwardly giggled at the immature wordplay.
Still the prospect made her feel a bit lightheaded. Each of the teachers read off a pair of names from a list, and two girls approached them. They each took their place on the wooden platforms on their hands and knees facing away from one another.
The instructor pulled a few supplies that seemed to have been stored inside the base of the platform. A peculiar rope, a bucket, and sturdy looking box. She grabbed the thin rope, it had a two-inch metal ball on each end. She roughly shoved the ball on one end into one of the girls vaginas and then did the same to the other, so that the rope hung between them, suspended by their cunts.
She then hooked the bucket over the midpoint of the rope, which was indicated by a red line. From the sturdy box, she pulled a small metal brick, about the size of a brownie and dropped it in the bucket.
As nervous as Ricki felt, she was still fascinated as she came to understand the process. A rope was held up by each girl’s hole, and weight was added to the midpoint. The first girl to release the rope was the loser. Furthermore, one could approximately rank tightness by knowing how much weight caused each girl to fail. Ricki guessed that the list of match-ups was determined by previous testing so that girls were going up against competitors of similar tightness.
“You’re gonna be at the bottom, loser.” Sharaje’s voice came from behind her, confirming her fears. The statuesque goddess followed up by grabbing Ricki’s pussy and roughly shoving a few fingers inside of her. She mockingly jerked the fingers side to side, causing a humiliatingly loud, wet noise with her genitals. A few of the girls nearby looked at her and laughed, some mocking how wet she was at the prospect of the whole school knowing that she was a used up slut with a sloppy cunt. She wasn’t actually wet at all, it seemed that Sharaje just had a certain expertise when it came to embarrassing other girls. “Yup, definitely last place,” Sharaje concluded as she used Ricki’s hair to wipe off her fingers.
Ricki tried to push her anxieties to the back of her mind and observe the bizarre challenge. Pairs of girls competed against each other to see who had the tightest cunt and asshole. Sometimes the winner would aggressively mock the girl she’d beaten, other times she’d boast and be congratulated by her friends on the victory while the loser was ignored.
Eventually she heard one of the teachers call a pair of names that prompted everyone to silence. “Dephile and Sharaje, you’re up!”
Sharaje bounded up girlishly, her perfect fake tits bouncing as she went, she faced her opponent with the typical arrogant “mean girl” smile. Dephile marched forward, her bare feet slapping the asphalt as her dense, muscular form took her place. She glared back with humorless menace.
The teacher commanded them to their places on the wooden platforms. The rest of the girls quieted down and crowded around to watch the top two girls compete. The two naked forms struck a perfect quadrupedal pose, backs arched to spread their asses; ensuring their holes were proudly displayed.
Their cunts were first to be tested. Each metal sphere was pushed into their perfect pink holes. Dephile’s puffy labia seemed to be just about the only part of her body that displayed any softness; even her artificially enhanced tits were taut.
Both girls had an expression of focused cockiness as the instructor hung the bucket from the midpoint between them. The dykey looking naked P.E. teacher didn’t waste time at the beginning; she tossed the iron blocks in as quickly as she could count them for the first twenty or so. After that she started slowing down a bit, adding one more before pausing for a count of five, then adding another. The time was to give them a chance to fail each time another weight was added. This went on for more than a minute; eventually the bucket was close to overflowing and the dyke twenty-something needed to quickly grab a second bucket that she hooked onto the rim of the first.
Ricki had to admit that she was kinda impressed. A few of the other girls had managed to get their bucket almost full before they failed, but these two were obviously way ahead of the other girls, and neither seemed like they were about the crack. Another full minute passed with the second bucket being almost half full and then it happened!
There was a loud sound of spilling iron as the bucket tumbled to the ground. “NOO!” It was the slightly butch voice of Dephile, who’d released first. Sharaje hopped to her feet and threw her hands in the air triumphantly, the rope still hanging from between her legs. After striking a victory pose for her classmates, she pulled the ball from her orifice and rubbed the cunt-juice saturated piece of metal on Dephile’s face mockingly. The muscular woman was clenching her teeth so hard it’s a wonder she didn’t crack one; Ricki could tell that it was taking everything she had not to beat Sharaje to within an inch of her life.
Ricki studied the encounter, it seemed almost as if there were unwritten social rules regarding when women could behave abusively toward one another. In this particular circumstance, Dephile needed to behave with deference. Was it because Sharaje had proven superiority? Did females in this society have complex rules of a perpetually shifting hierarchy? That seemed consistent with a lot of what she’d seen so far.
The teacher declared that they’d have a two minute rest before “testing your backdoor strength” as she put it. The sporty instructor seemed to be good-natured, and seemed to have a tattoo on her lower back that Ricki had been trying to make out. As she was re-setting some of the iron blocks from the buckets, she was finally able to make out that it said “Dyke 4 Dick” in a beautifully symmetrical script that framed her perky little ass.
There was a bit of a murmur from around Ricki. It seemed they were wondering if the rankings would be reversed this month, since Sharaje apparently had the tighter cunt for the first time. Ricki got the impression that Dephile had held that title as long as anyone remembered.
The two minutes were up and the cute lesbian whisled at the girls to resume their places while the rest of the girls watched. There had been a couple other pairs of girls being tested during their first round, but it seemed that the teachers and student-teachers respected that this was a big deal. So at the moment, all eyes were on the two naked sluts as the two-inch metal balls were shoved into their asses.
Dephile’s confidence seemed to be wavering, based on the scoreboard, her shitter had lost to Sharaje’s in the past. After all, it was the body part Sharaje was known for; hell, she was even named after her anus.
The teacher elected not to start from scratch, but simply hung the first full bucket from the mid-point in the rope. Neither girl seemed to have much of a problem. The second bucket was hooked to the rim as it had been the first time and she began counting in weights.
Both girls' assholes were tightly clenched around their respective ends of the apparatus, they seemed to have a deep sense of determination as the second bucket slowly filled up over the course of the next couple of minutes. When no more could fit in the second bucket, the dyke teacher looked back and forth between the two girls with the iron assholes. They both seemed to be showing signs of exertion, with Sharaje having a slightly greater sheen of perspiration. She waited a few moments to see if either of them would fail, but neither let go. She quickly rushed to get a third bucket, something she seemed utterly unprepared to need.
She returned and was preparing to attach the third bucket. Ricki found herself honestly rooting for Sharaje to win. She may have been a bully, but she was the closest thing Ricki had to a friend. Her heart sunk as she saw the arabian beauty’s face contort in exertion, she was reaching her limit. Then there was the loud clang of spilling metal that almost made her ears ring.
“Winner! Sharaje!” the teacher declared. Ricki looked to see Dephile with the ball having dropped out of her anus. She angrily punched the platform hard enough to draw blood on her knuckles. Sharaje sprung up from the platform, still breathing heavily from the exertion and let out this giggle-scream of triumph. She hopped over to Dephile, who had just reluctantly stood up, wound her arm back as far as it would go, and slapped the muscle-bound bitch hard across the face.
“Get ready to spend the next month kissing my asshole, you fucking loser!” Sharaje punctuated the sentence by grabbing a handful of Dephile’s hair and spitting in her face. Dephile looked broken, a combination of anger and shame washed across her face and threatened to flood out of her eyes in the form of tears. “You know, actually? You’re such an ugly jock loser that you don’t even deserve to kiss my asshole yet. I’m gonna have you beg to kiss every other girl’s asshole and tell them how much better they are then yours. Then, maybe when you’ve had some practice I’ll allow you the honor of pressing your lips against my perfect, superior hole.”
Sharaje seemed absolutely prepared to spend the remainder of the class period publicly humiliating Dephile, but the teacher stepped in and dismissed them back to their places so that the rest of the students could be tested.
For a moment, Ricki almost forgot that she would eventually have to be subjected to this same violation and humiliation. But she noticed a pit in the bottom of her stomach and her knees felt weak. She also became distinctly aware of the fact that the dizziness she experienced after the jog still hadn’t subsided. She wasn’t sure if she was really just that out of shape or if the stress of the day was really having that much of an impact. She elected to try to put her worries out of her mind and just focus on her breathing for a little while in the hopes that she’d be in better shape by the time her name was called.
She wasn’t.
Her heart was racing even before the dyke teacher called her name. It’s just nerves, she told herself, everyone else here is doing this and they’re all fine. This is normal here, it’ll just take some getting used to.
Ricki’s knees almost buckled when she took a step forward, but she managed to catch herself. She was paired off against the asian girl who was dressed like a slutty anime character in first period; the outfit was gone, but the hair and make-up still made her memorable.
After a few tries, Ricky managed to climb up onto the platform and assume the position. Though she nearly fell when she lifted a hand to wipe some of the sweat from her face. I’m still sweating? She didn’t feel hot, in fact the air on her naked skin was beginning to give her a bit of a chill.
She felt the metal ball pressing into her vagina, it took a bit of force for the teacher to get it in. After all, Ricki had never had anything bigger than her fingers inside herself, so maybe that’d work to her advantage, she thought. The metal ball wasn’t particularly big, but it’s bulk was still enough to cause a bit of pain when it was forced in. The teacher behind her hooked the bucket onto the midpoint of the rope, and Ricki immediately felt the cold metal mass withdraw from her and hit the ground.
There was a smattering of laughter from the other girls. “She’s so loose, she couldn’t even hold the empty bucket!!!” One of the girls shouted. Ricki turned her head to see who spoke but all she could see was a blurry mass of pink and brown flesh.
She felt the teacher’s hand gently on her bare shoulder, “I know this is your first time, fuckpet, but you need to clench a little bit at the beginning and then go harder as I add the weights, okay? Do you understand?” She sounded legitimately kind and encouraging.
“I understand. I… I’ll try better,” Ricki replied. She sensed the teacher moving behind her again, and felt the cold metal once again penetrate her. It fell out again almost immediately. She heard the other students taunting her again but they were starting to sound really distant. Her dizziness was getting worse by the second. She had a vague sense of the teacher at her side speaking to her again, but there was an encroaching blackness at the edges of her vision.
This wasn’t just nerves, something was wrong. Ricki was feeling really bad. She decided to try saying something to the teacher. She took a deep breath and as she tried to speak, everything went black…
So I have, at last, managed to get the Introduction to the fifth and final member of the Pervert Pentet. I’m pretty excited about that because it means the first part of this series is done. I actually wanted to write Sherry’s story earlier, but I put it off a bit after I decided that it would be written in first person from the perspective of someone who’s a much bigger anime/hentai fan than me. It’s always tricky trying to realistically write a character who knows much more than you about something.
This is probably my most wholesome story so far, so there’s not really any content warnings needed, but as a bonus, there is a bit of a flash-forward to the point where all five of the character’s stories converge.
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My name is Sherry Sugisaki, I’m twenty-two years old, single, blood type B, and as of today, I’m the official club historian for the Pervert Pentet!
The Pervert Pentet is a club that me and four of my best friends formed so that we could all get together and just be ourselves without other people calling us weirdos or sluts. Well, except for Piper. She calls everybody a slut, but trust me, compared to the other things that come out of her mouth, “slut” is a compliment!
Piper is kind of our leader. She’s the first girl I ever met who was an even bigger perv than me! She’s so smart it’s a little scary, and she always speaks her mind. The only problem is that her mind is always in the gutter!
Nancy is the muscle of the group. She’s the tall athletic type, and way prettier than she realizes. She can be a little intimidating, but I think deep down she has a good heart. I haven’t really gotten close to her yet, and Piper says I probably shouldn’t try to. Nancy says that she doesn’t want to hang out with me because she doesn’t like Asian people (except she said it in a way that wasn’t quite so polite), but I think maybe she just had a hard life and she’s not ready to trust people, yet. And she’s always hanging out with Teira anyway.
Speaking of Teira, she’s this rich, famous artist from Europe. Nancy went to one of her art performances a while back and Teira saw something special in her. Ever since then, Nancy has kinda been Teira’s sidekick. Teira can be a little scary too, but in a different way. While Nancy seems tough, Teira’s… well, creepy. She never smiles, never seems to have an opinion about anything, and she kinda has this icy-cold “I’d like to see you chopped into neat little pieces” vibe. In fact, the only time I’ve ever seen her look excited is when I introduced her to guro porn.
Bailee is the last girl who joined our club. She’s usually kinda dumb, exept sometimes she’s not? We’re all still trying to figure out exactly what her deal is. She’s sooo much fun to hang out with, though! And she’s actually into cute things, like me! As much as I love Piper, some of the things she’s into gross me out. But with Bailee, we can talk about cute boys, and go clothes shopping! Plus, she looks like the big-boobed girls in hentai, but in real life!
But you’ll get to know them later. They say to write what you know about, so I guess I’ll start by telling you about myself!
I grew up in the U.S. but my father is from Japan. My mom is from here, but ethnically, she’s half European and half Brazilian, which I think is why I have a bigger butt than most Japanese girls. My dad was the typical Asian father, which means that he worked all the time to provide for me and my mom, but I never really got to spend much time with him. I guess that’s why I started getting into Japanese culture at a young age. I was into all the normal stuff like Pokemon and Sailor Moon and Hello Kitty, so it was really exciting when I was little and my mom got me a subscription to this really cool anime streaming service!
But even though my mom really liked Japanese history and culture, I don’t think she realized just quite how naughty some parts of it can be. While other pre-teen girls dreamed of a storybook romance with a handsome man who buys them pretty dresses and mansions, I thought up pranks to play on my romantic rivals when we were all crowded into a little house along with our collective boyfriend! When I finally learned what other little girls fantasized about, it just seemed so boring! And lonely, too. I mean, sure, being in a harem seems like it might get a little crazy sometimes, but it’s also exciting. And besides, when things get really tough the girls always put their differences aside to solve problems as a family!
I guess watching all those shows gave me a sense of humor that wasn’t exactly “politically correct.” But honestly, it’s funny when busty girls get their boobs yanked out, or when lecherous milf-types molest shy, blushing lolis. Oh! And when bad-ass fighter girls get their clothes all ripped up during a battle and they suddenly realize that everybody can see that they’re not wearing panties and then they’re all like “Eep! Don’t look!!” That’s the best!
Okay, okay, maaaaaaybe it’s not just that I think it’s funny. Maybe it turns me on a little bit, too. But can you blame me? I mean, when you see a pretty girl on the street, don’t you just want to pull her dress up or yank her boobs out?? Of course you do! Everybody does, they just don’t talk about it. The only difference is that in my case I actually do it!
I’m getting ahead of myself again. I should back up. So when I was in middle school, my parents let me get a smart phone with internet access. And let me tell you, if you think anime is naughty, you haven’t seen hentai! I mean, there’s stuff that’s even too dirty for me! But eventually I came across one kind of video that made me obsessed. And for once, it wasn’t animated at all.
The first time I saw it, I was confused. It just seemed like a guy with a camera-phone following this cute girl in a skirt. But then this guy came out of nowhere and pulled up her skirt and yanked down her panties! She made this cute little “Eeeee!” noise while the guy ran off. It was so cute, and so funny, and so super hot! I figured that video had to be one of a kind, but boy was I wrong!
Apparently it’s called “sharking.” I never quite found a satisfactory explanation for the name, but it started in Japan (just like all the best pervy stuff!), and the idea is to run up to a girl and expose her while somebody else films and puts it online for everyone to enjoy! There’s all kinds of varieties. Top-sharking works best when you find a girl in a tube-top and you can pull her boobs out. Bottom-sharking works best for girls in a short skirt; and if you’re really lucky, you might find a girl who isn’t wearing panties! There’s even cosplay-sharking! That’s when you steal all of a girl’s clothes and run off with them, but you leave her a super cute, slutty outfit that she has to wear if she doesn’t want to walk home naked. Personally, just regular full-sharking is my favorite. That’s when you strip a girl naked and run off with her clothes while the camera guy follows her while she figures out what to do. It’s so exciting! I mean, at first the girl thinks it’s just going to be a regular boring old day, but then she gets to be part of this awesome sexy adventure where she’s naked in public! And nobody can even get upset at her because it’s not even her fault! Everybody wins!
I should know, I’m proud to say that I’m one of the few girls who’s been on both sides. You see, after I graduated high school, I got my parents to finally agree to pay for me to take a year off to visit Japan! It was everything I ever dreamed! I was surrounded by signs displaying happy anime characters, I got to ride public transit with groups of cute, giggly school girls and handsome, studious schoolboys. There were night-clubs with lolita-goths and J-pop was playing everywhere!
The only thing that could have made it better was if I could have had a romantic encounter with a cute boy. I think everyone who visits a foreign country kinda wishes that they could have a special lover to think back on fondly when they’re old and grey. Unfortunately, no matter how many blind corners I hurried around, I never accidentally collided with my true love. Not even when I had toast in my mouth!
I figured maybe I still dressed too much like a kid, and boys were scared that I was under-aged. So I decided to show off my assets! While I was far from flat-chested in America, in Japan my full C-cup breasts made me downright busty. And the Brazilian butt I inherited from mom put me way ahead of at least ninety percent of the other girls in Japan. So I got some new button up shirts that were small enough to hug my curves, and I left a few buttons undone. I also bought new mini-skirts short enough to ensure my panties would be visible with even the slightest breeze. Everybody in Japan is really into panties.
Unfortunately, most of the male attention I got from the new wardrobe was from middle-aged men who took advantage of crowded trains to touch my butt. But I wasn’t about to get discouraged! I mean, it’s not ideal, but if I’m getting attention, than I must be on the right track!
And then one day it happened! I was in a public park a short walk from where I was staying. I had my headphones on, listening to my Japanese language-learning app when this guy came out of nowhere and yanked my little school-girl skirt up to my waist and then pulled my white panties down to my knees!
I always thought that if I ever got sharked myself, that I’d do something really sexy, like wink or do a little pose or something. But honestly, the whole thing happened really fast so I hardly had a chance to react. And I didn’t even see where the camera guy was. I was just sort of… frozen. I just stood there with my panties halfway down my legs as the guy in the hoodie ran off.
A part of me thought that I wished I’d been more prepared for it, but on the other hand, that’s part of the fun! Unlike most Japanese girls, I keep everything totally shaved down there, so they definitely got a shot of my naked pussy. And there were going to put it online! How exciting is that! Once I pulled my panties back up they immediately got soaked. I felt like I’d just won the best prize ever! Now any-time somebody is looking at sharking videos on the internet, there would be a chance that they’d get to see me! I just hoped that the camera guy was good enough that I’d be popular.
I spent the next week looking at sharking videos more than I ever had before, but sadly, I still couldn’t find mine! I knew it would take time, but I just couldn’t wait. Part of me hoped that it’d go viral. Maybe it’d become the most popular sharking video of all time, and I’d get to be the poster-girl for the whole fetish! I’d be so famous that when people saw me in the street they’d yank up my dress and take pictures of my exposed body while I pretended to blush. I mean, I knew it wasn’t likely, but a girl can dream!
After a week of looking at every sharking related site I could I eventually came across this post written in Japanese that looked like it was a local casting call for a girl to be in a video! They must have been a really bad writer, because I could hardly understand it and my Japanese is perfect! I mean, I watched One Punch Man without subtitles and totally understood every word…. well most of them… I mean, at least half…
…
Let’s get one thing straight! I’m a Japanese girl so I obviously speak Japanese! They must have been speaking a weird dialect and that’s why I didn’t understand them that well, okay?!?
Anyway, the post said they wanted a girl to be in a sharking video, and I knew I wanted to be that girl. In all the videos I saw, it was always boys running up and exposing unsuspecting women. I’ve never seen girl-on-girl sharking! What a concept!
After a few messages back and forth, I ended up meeting them at this cute cafe by the beach. That’s when I got really excited! Bikini sharking is one of the best ways to get a girl totally naked in public! I’ve even seen it done where a guy gets two girls tops and bottoms off at once!
I didn’t catch the camera guy’s name, but the one who did most of the talking was named Kaito. I started asking them if there were any special techniques I should know so I could undo a girl’s bikini faster, but they seemed confused. I don’t know how, but there must have been a miscommunication. It seemed like they wanted to me to go somewhere private and stage a fake sharking. They said they were going to make sure to do it where no one would see me and they’d give me my clothes back at the end!
What a cheap trick! I told them that there’s no way. Either they have to shark me for real or I was going home!
I was pretty mad, so I laid out my terms and made sure they knew that there would be no negotiation! One: They had to strip me completely naked! Boobs, ass, pussy, it all had to be on display. Two: They had to do it someplace where lots of people would see. Three: sometimes in the really good sharking videos the guys would spread a girls legs or pull her butt-cheeks apart while the camera guy runs in close, that way everybody on the internet gets a good look at her vagina and butthole. I told them they had to do that, too! And four: Under no circumstances were they allowed to give me my clothes back or let me have anything to cover myself with afterwards.
If I was getting to be part of planning a sharking video, I was going to make sure it was the best one ever! There was no way I was going home unless it was completely naked!
Kaito and his friend whispered to each other for a minute, and then they asked me if I’d be willing to ditch some of my clothes in advance so that they could get me naked faster. Finally! They were saying something that made sense! And honestly, they had a point. I’m ashamed to admit that before that day I used to dress in a terribly un-sharkable way. Ever since then, the only question I ask when choosing an outfit was “How easy would it be for someone to get me naked in public?”
Anyway, I slipped away into a public bathroom to ditch my shirt, bra, and underwear. So now I was just wearing the zippered hoodie I put on when I thought I was going to get to shark a girl, and my mini-skirt. I told the guys that I was going to try to find a place off to the side of the boardwalk, far enough so that nobody could intervene, but close enough that everybody could still see my naked body.
I waited there for about five minutes, and I was starting to think they had gotten scared off, but then I saw the one with the camera sneaking up around the corner of a nearby building. I tried not to look directly at him, but I still wanted my front-side facing the camera.
My heart started racing as I heard Kaito coming up behind me! They must have been discussing technique, because he grabbed the bottom of my skirt and yanked it up until it gathered along with the hem of my hoodie. In an expertly practiced maneuver that seemed almost like a matador with a cape, he swept both garments up over my head and then down off my arms!
Suddenly, I was standing in the middle of a wide open public space in the middle of the day and I was completely naked! The sun seemed like a spotlight that shone down to reveal every private inch of my body.
Kaito tossed my hoodie and skirt and then grabbed my arms to bend me over a nearby bench. That’s when I saw the camera guy running in close while I felt his hands on my butt-cheeks. He reached down to the very bottom and spread everything open wide. The camera guy got in so close he must have been within a foot or two of my most private areas! I sure was glad that I’d shaved that morning; I mean, with the close-up he got of my pussy and asshole, everyone on the internet would have seen if I had even the tiniest bit of stubble.
I’d almost forgot! This was going on the internet! My heart was racing and I wasn’t sure if it was from fear or excitement. As scary as the whole thing was, I was still getting really wet really fast! I hoped that that camera could pick that up so that everyone would see how much girls like this kind of thing! I sort of moaned and wiggled a little bit, but then the two of them ran off. Thankfully they remembered to grab my clothes on the way, so that I wouldn’t have the option to cover myself!
I stood up to see two middle-aged ladies running up to me and yelling something at the men. I must have looked freaked out because they seemed a bit confused and frantic, like they wanted to help me but didn’t know how. Honestly, I was a little freaked out, too, but it was in a good way! Like when you ride a roller-coaster. Like, it’s really exciting and so scary that you scream but it’s also really fun! When I think back on it, I’m pretty sure I actually did scream when he first came up behind me and pulled all my clothes off.
The shorter lady had a jacked that she was unbuttoning, I realized that she was going to try to cover me up! What a prude! She must have just been jealous that a pretty young thing like me was getting to walk around naked in public and show off the goods when she was never brave enough to do anything like that!
I decided I was going to rush off down the boardwalk before she got a chance. I was still super nervous and excited. My heart felt like it was pounding in my throat and I was out of breath from the thrill of it all.
I had the temptation to cover myself with my hands, but I half-resisted. I must have looked kinda shy because I kept sort of covering my pussy, and then half-covering my boobs, and then I put both hands behind me to cover my butt. So anyone who kept looking for more than a second would have seen everything. And there were people everywhere, so even if I wanted to cover myself (which I totally didn’t), there was no way I could have.
I kinda figured that everyone would be staring at me and taking pictures and commenting on my body; I hoped that by the time I made it a hundred meters that I’d have a whole crowd of men around me, but honestly, no one said a thing! Some people glanced, and now and then someone would stare for a few seconds, but the majority of people averted their eyes and just pretended I wasn’t there!
They seemed almost… scared to look at me. This was even better than I could have imagined! I mean, at first I was a little disappointed that people weren’t excited to take in the sight of my naked, young body, but then I realized something! It wasn’t just fun and sexy to be naked in public, it also felt kinda… powerful!
Once I realized that, I stopped acting shy. I stopped trying to cover myself at all. In fact, I slowed down my stride and put on a cocky grin. By the time I reached the end of the boardwalk I was staring people right in the eye, but nobody had the guts to look back at me.
It was about a ten-minute walk back to where I was staying, but I decided I was going to make it take fifteen! There was even a spot where a dozen people were waiting for a train, and I decided to stand in front of all of them and check my phone for a good two minutes! Fortunately, I had the foresight to stick my phone, wallet, and apartment key in my sock before I had those guys steal all my clothes. I made sure to bend down in front of everybody when I took my phone out so they could have a chance to admire my naked butt.
I hoped that at least someone noticed how wet this was making me! I mean, I was starting to literally drip down the inside of my leg! I figured I’d better make my way home before my socks end up getting soaked.
When I got home I retrieved my apartment key from my sock and saw my neighbor coming home with a bag of groceries. I smiled and gave him a big wave, but he acted like he couldn’t see me. I unlocked my door and went inside.
The first thing I did was down a can of green tea, as fun as the whole walk was, my mouth was dry as a desert. As much as I enjoyed myself, it was nerve-wracking. The whole time I was sort of afraid the police were going to show up any minute, but that never happened.
All in all, the whole thing was way different than I expected. I guess that since I’m a perv, I expected that everyone else would be one, too. But everybody else was so well behaved. So I guess that makes me special!
Realizing that I was a pervert who walks around naked in public and gets off on exposing myself to strangers was the best moment of my life. It made me feel like I could do things that regular people couldn’t. Kaito sent me the video of my full-sharking the next day. Apparently, they had followed me almost all the way home without me even realizing it! They sure got some amazing shots and I’m proud to say that it has over a hundred-thousand views and counting.
I never found out the name of the guy who pulled my panties down that first day in the park. But a couple years later when I met Piper she’d tracked down the original video of me that he made. I posted a thank-you message in the comments telling him how grateful I was that he chose me, and how he changed my life for the better.
Ya know, it’s funny. Of all the girls that I’ve exposed in public and put online since that day, not a single one has posted a ‘thank-you’ message to me under their videos. Then again, I don’t do this for thanks, I do it for the knowledge that I’m helping others live the life that every girl wants! I’m helping them to be the perverts that deep down they all definitely wish they could be!
(Part of the Pervert Pentet Series. Content warning: subtext of tragic loss)
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“Hmmmm.” she made the noise as she struggled to figure out the puzzle before her. Her eyes narrowed to closely examine the sidewalk below. She’d happened to be walking past a nightclub with a rather substantial queue of people spilling down the street. It was evening now, so she’d switched from her tank-top and micro mini-skirt into a pink tube top and ultra-mini skirt (it was really more like a belt made of fabric than a skirt); she used the public changing room a few blocks from her house, the little one with the glass walls and the old-time telephone on one side. At least this one guy she knew told her that it was a changing room. She kinda remembered something about how Superman changed clothes in a thing like that so it made sense to her. The guy said how the glass seemed clear from the inside, but that in reality nobody could see in because it was two way glass or something? Bailee thought it was really complicated, but he obviously knew better than her. She always liked to get totally naked when she was inside there and act really slutty since nobody could see her. She’d shake her tits or spread her ass, or sometimes even masturbate. There weren’t that many of the telephone changing booth thingies around anymore, so she figured that this one was kind of a tourist attraction, what with the big crowd and all the people taking pictures when she was inside. By a big coincidence, she always managed to get to it right before the crowd formed! How lucky is that!
“Hmmmmmmmm.” She bent down further to try to examine the sidewalk. One of the really nice men in the line had told her she’d dropped something and she should bend down to pick it up. After a few seconds of looking, she’d told him that she didn’t see anything, but he assured her that something was down there and that she should keep looking. She was sooo lucky that men were so patient with her. She wasn’t that bright, and she had no idea what she’d do without nice men helping her the way they always did. Like that doctor guy who told her that it’s better for her body that if, when she bends over, she plants her feet wide and bends at the waist with her back straight.
“Hmmmmmmmmmm.” She kept repeating the noise while she kept trying, like, really super hard to figure out what she dropped and why she couldn’t see it. It was starting to make her head hurt, and she’d been bending over to look for it for probably a good two minutes now. Finally she stood up and apologized to the nice man who told her she dropped something. That’s when she noticed that there were several people behind her who all seemed to have their camera-phones out and pointed at her.
She hopped in excitement; the huge, firm, silicone tits almost whacking her in the chin as she did so. “Oh my gosh! You wanna take my picture? Yay! Thanks, everybody!” She quickly flipped the golden waves of hair that cascaded over her shoulders and struck a pose. She may not have been so good with thinky stuff, but this? This she was good at! It was the number one most important thing for a girl to know how to be pretty and sexy, after all! She stuck one fingertip in her pouting mouth and raised one leg in a coy pose while making sure to stick out her tits and ass. After a few seconds she switched to a more confident pose; hands on her hips with her shoulders back, tits thrust forward obscenely.
“Oh wait!” she quickly pinched and twisted her nipples through the semi-sheer pink tank top to make sure they stood out more through her clothes. Guys like it when girls do that, she’d learned. She went back to the boobie pose with nipples sufficiently erect. She switched to a sensual pose where she closed her eyes and raked her hands through her hair. But she couldn’t help but think that she could get some better pictures for the nice men if she had an object to play with, like a lollipop or… oh! Or another girl!
She quickly scanned the line of people before her glassy eyes set their sights on a cute Persian-looking girl with 32D tits. Bailee giggled for a moment; she may be have been dumb, but at least she wasn’t dumb enough to have small tits!
“Hey, 32D! Come over here and make out with me for some pictures!”
The girl glanced down at her chest and then back at Bailee. “Wait, how did you know?”
Bailee just giggled in response. Geez this little slut was stupid. How would she ever get guys if she didn’t know how to rank and compare girls. Men do it all the time automatically, so Bailee made sure she was constantly aware of how she ranked compared to all the girls around her. She was currently number one, and she was giving the 32D girl a chance to be second, only the little ditz was just standing there.
Bailee sighed, she was a 32J, so she was obviously the girl in-charge around here. She grabbed the tan little dummy and shoved her tongue down her throat. She seemed surprised but didn’t seem to object. 32D actually started getting into it once Bailee took one of her hands and stuffed it under the pink tank top so that she could have a chance to see what real boobs feel like.
Bailee wasn’t into girls that much, but what she was into was doing anything to get attention from men. They really liked it when girls made out with each other or licked each others kitties. In fact, Bailee was pretty sure that the whole “lesbian” thing was just a trick to get boys to pay attention to them.
The little Persian girl was starting to make these sensual little moaning noises; at least she wasn’t a prude. Bailee was glad, she hated prudes! She remembered that guys really like pictures of girls licking each others pussies or buttholes, and it was her job to make guys happy. So she squatted down, making sure to spread her legs so everyone could see how good a job she did shaving while she pulled up 32D’s skirt, but she gasped when she saw what was underneath.
“Oh my god! You’re wearing panties?!? Gross!” Bailee always thought panties were really dumb. What’s the point of even wearing a dress if you’re just going to cover up your holes anyway! And besides, everybody knows that pussies need to be uncovered to be healthy. That’s why it’s always best for girls to wear the shortest skirt possible and always sit with their legs open.
After she got over the initial aversion, she started feeling sorry for the girl. Obviously all girls want guys to put their dicks inside them, but the flat-chested little ditz was too dumb to know how. Bailee decided to help by yanking the girl’s panties to her ankles. She made a little noise of objection, but didn’t end up resisting. She just got this really embarrassed smile while everybody took pictures of her little mocha-colored pussy. Bailee had her step out of the underwear, which was a pain. Imagine if this girl had to do all that while a nice man was waiting to put his cock in her butt, she thought.
She held the garment at arms length as if she was holding a dirty rag and walked over to drop it in the gutter. When she turned back, 32D was covering her face in this giggley embarrassed way. That was good! Boys seem to get super turned on when girls are embarrassed. Bailee went back over and squatted down to stick out her tongue as far as she could and licked at the girl’s bare pussy gingerly. The light-brown girl had her pubic hair shaved into a little heart, which Bailee liked. At least she prepared to have her kitty on display. She tried to stay facing forward so everybody could get both of their naked crotches in the picture. Bailee really only flicked the girls clit with the tip of her tongue. It was more important that all the nice men get sexy pictures than it was to actually pleasure the panty-wearing dummy.
32D seemed to get relaxed a bit after that. She even took the lead and posed for pictures with Bailee’s giant boobs; pulling her little tube-top up, holding the firm-pink orbs with her little hands, even pinching and pulling her nipples. She had to admit, as dumb as this girl might be when it comes to getting cock, she could have been a lot worse!
After a few minutes, 32D introduced Bailee to her boyfriend. He looked Persian, too. Also, he dressed like he had a lot of money. He offered to pay Bailee’s way into the club so that she could hang out and have fun with them all night.
He was even nice enough to buy her a drink and he put this special vitamin in it that he said would keep Bailee from getting a hangover the next day. She must have drank a lot, because she didn’t really remember much of what happened after that. Later that night, she had a vague sense of being in a hotel room while a bunch of really awesome guys took turns having sex with her. That made her happy. She also thought she heard the nice Persian man talking with one of the men about money. Geez! What a workaholic! Who talks business while a girl is trying to get lucky!
***
Bailee woke up the next day to find herself laying in a bed in a hospital room. This cute young Indian doctor with a boyish look noticed she was awake and came over to her. He paused for a moment, seeming a bit flustered.
“Hello, Bailee. How are you feeling?” he started with this super hot English accent.
“Ummm, I dunno. I think I had, like, a super fun and good night last night. I kinda remember getting to do like, a lot of sex, and I got to give a bunch of guys blowjobs.” she paused to think for a moment, “Oh, hey! Do you want a blowjob? You’re totally, like, super cute.”
He seemed a bit flustered, “Umm, no. That’s quite all right. The police found you passed out on the couch of a hotel lobby. You… didn’t have any clothes on. They brought you here to make sure you were okay. We learned that you had a rather substantial dose of Rohypnol in your system. Do you have any reason to believe that anything happened last night that you didn’t agree to?”
Bailee shook her head, “uh uh, I think I had a really fun night.” she said before giggling. As she was answering, this hot older woman with silver hair and a lab coat came in. Bailee thought it was silly the way she was dressed. She might be middle-aged, but she still had a good body. Maybe her and Bailee could go out and pretend to be mother and daughter to pick up boys! Guys were totally into that sort of thing.
The older lady leaned over to the cute boy doctor and whispered something to him. She said something about Bailee’s “fee-an-say,” which Bailee figured was a fancy doctor word she didn’t know. And she said something about how Bailee hasn’t been the same since.
Suddenly it occurred to Bailee that hospitals were really sad and totally not fun and that she didn’t want to be in one anymore. So she put on her heels and told them that she was going to go home now. They said some doctory stuff and made her write her name on this really boring paper, but at least they let her keep the cute gown that let everybody see her butt. She could totally use that for costume parties or sexy roleplay. Maybe she could even go out and tell everybody that she has a disease where she needs cum to survive. Yeah! That’d be perfect! After all, guys could be super gullible when it comes to sex. They’ll fall for anything when they’re horny! She was sure glad that she wasn’t like that.
(Part of the Pervert Pentet Series. Content warning: subtext of tragic loss)
——————————————————–
She woke up in a daze. How long had it been since she’d been in control of her own mind? The trance was lasting longer each time, how long until it’d be permanent? The thought of being… her… forever made her heart race with fear. But it was also something she found incredibly erotic.
She never would have started dating Mark if the thought of mind control wasn’t so incredibly arousing to her. It started with minor things, she’d find she wasn’t wearing underwear in the middle of the day despite clearly remembering putting it on in the morning. She wasn’t sure if the memory was false or if she’d removed them at some point in the day while in a hypnotic trance. She kept pushing for more, the idea of giving up control over her most valuable asset, her conscious mind, thrilled her more than anything else could.
In her youth, her parents had always pushed her to work hard and be smart, but it was never enough. Even when she graduated high school as Valedictorian at age 17, all they wanted to know was what she planned for college. At age 24, she graduated with a doctorate in neurology. She began dating Mark after she’d interviewed while she’d been completing her thesis on the effect of external stimuli on the long-term functioning of the mind. He was a hypnotist who claimed that with enough time, he could turn a person into someone completely different. They often debated, with her claiming that what he said was impossible. No matter what, she argued, there would always be certain core personality traits that would be innate, either because they developed in the formative years or because they were genetically determined.
She began submitting to things she thought of as “experiments” with him. The first few times she felt the influence of his “mind control” she was fascinated. To be able to experience something like this first hand! It was invigorating as a researcher. At least that’s what she told herself in the beginning.
Over time, she became more and more addicted to the idea of leaving her mind in the hands of another. He went from being her boyfriend to becoming her Master. And their “experiments” had taken on a more intense and erotic tone as well. He created this other persona that he could snap her into any time he wished. It was so liberating, the other her was so… happy, carefree. It was as if she could have a respite from the cacophony of thoughts and considerations she grew up being taught was expected of her as an intellectual. She was never happier than when she was with him; and despite knowing every neurochemical reaction that came with being in love, a part of her felt like she’d found her soul-mate.
Eventually they went on a trip together to an isolated cabin, someplace they could do some of the more daring things they’d been wanting to try without fear of her being embarrassed by interactions with other people.
She remembered they did something… daring. Foolish, even. She couldn’t remember exactly what it was at the moment. She flexed a cognitive power that felt like it hadn’t been flexed in quite some time and tried to remember. There was a distinct recollection that her Master was the only one that could release her from the trance once it was activated. But there was something else… something even more reckless she’d asked him to do, to program into her ever-more-pliable mind. What was it?
Her heart sank as she remembered how the trip ended. Her Master had been taking a walk outside the cabin and had slipped on some of the autumn leaves, breaking his skull on a sharp branch jutting from a tree-trunk. She reasoned that the trauma must be why she was having trouble remembering. A sickening hollowness began to form within her the more she thought about him. Her mind instinctively reviewed all the neurological changes that could occur in response to the loss of a loved one. Yet the memory felt distant, like enough time had passed that she shouldn’t feel as bad as she did. She just couldn’t remember what had happened in the interim.
She looked around the room and found that it seemed foreign to her. The layout was definitely her and her late Master’s house, but the decor looked more like it had been done by a middle-school cheerleader, and a slutty one at that, judging by the small, brightly colored clothing strewn haphazardly about.
She took a step out of bed and was immediately floored by a lightning bolt of pain that shot up her Achilles tendon the moment she tried to stand up.
“AAAHH!!!” The pain turned to a slow throb after several seconds, and she tried to examine her feet. She determined that her range of plantar flexion, pointing her toes, was a bit greater than it had been before. But dorsiflexion was severely limited, she couldn’t bring her foot flat enough to take a step. It was as if her Achilles tendon had shortened somehow, as if she’d been wearing high-heels every waking moment for… months? Longer? She couldn’t be sure.
She noticed a pair of hot-pink heels near where she fell and naturally assumed that they were there for the purpose of allowing her to walk. She strapped herself into them and climbed to her feet. The throbbing in her heel had mostly diminished, and she found herself to have an inexplicable ease when she tried to ambulate in the four-inch heels. She rushed to the bathroom mirror; she had to see herself, as much as the thought terrified her.
When she saw her reflection, it took her a moment to believe that she wasn’t looking at an obscene poster of some comic-book bimbo that had been rendered to look realistic.
Her short brown hair had been dyed blonde, and tied up in loose pigtails that hung from the top of her head down her back. By her estimation, her hair terminated just above the sacroiliac joint just superior of her tailbone. She frantically brushed her fingers through the long, platinum locks. Surely these are hair extensions. She couldn’t possibly have lost that much time in her trance-state. This was over a year of growth. Way over.
And her breasts! They didn’t even really look like hers anymore. She’d gotten implants soon after she began dating her Master, as he had a thing for the bimbo look. She figured she could go up to just barely a DD and still seem like a respected professional so long as she didn’t dress to show them off. But it looked like they’d been enlarged at least twice since then. She couldn’t even guess at their current size
32J.
It had just popped into her head, but deep down there was a sense that it was a point of pride for her. The other her. Her lips appeared inflated as well, to a size that would be considered a good bit more than just pillowy.
After the shock wore off, she had to admit, she liked the way she looked. Mark would have loved to see her looking like this. It seemed she’d overcome her habit of stress-eating, and found the time to go to the gym. At least based on the fit, lightly tanned body that appeared to serve mostly as a transportation system for her firm, basketball sized tits.
She took a few deep breaths, trying to determine if this was all a dream or some kind of delusion. She’d tranced out before since her Master’s death, but never for more than a few days. And for the life of her, she couldn’t recall what triggered it. Needless to say, she’d never stayed in her trance state for this long.
Another memory suddenly popped into her head from that terrible night. Something she’d asked for to ensure that they keep pushing things further and further. He had programmed her so that every subsequent trance had to last longer than the previous one.
Shit!!! She thought frantically, They were supposed to be longer by hours, maybe a day or two at most! This wasn’t supposed to last for months. Not… years.
She’d only pushed him to do those things because she knew in the back of her mind that they’d be temporary. He was responsible, and if things got out of hand, he could undo the programming. Unfortunately, that was no longer an option. She still got a sense that there was something else she was missing. Something big. The trigger! That’s it, she’d just have to avoid the trigger phrase! Now what was it? She couldn’t remember! That’s okay, she would just need to avoid interacting with anything until she figured it out. Don’t go outside, don’t talk to anyone, don’t turn on the tv. You don’t want to get accidentally triggered and wake up years from now with even bigger tits.
She tried to steel her resolve when she heard a sound from the other room. An electronic beep and a tinny voice beginning to talk. The answering machine!!! Her master had been her senior by a few decades, and his house still had a landline and an old-style answering machine. She rushed out frantically to try to turn it off. The person on the line explained that they were from her old college and explained that they were calling for…
That was it… The trigger! The impossibly stupid thing they had done in the cabin that night in the woods. They made the trigger phrase… her own name.
“-University and we’re looking to contact Dr. Bailee Holcum.” She tore the machine out of the wall, but it was too late, she could feel the fog setting in…
***
She looked down at the broken machine on the floor with puzzlement. “Well uhh, that’s like, what you get for saying stuff that’s, like, totally boring, Mr. Answering Machine.”
There was a phrase she noticed echoing through the cavernous space of her mind. She said it aloud to try to work out the puzzle. “Bailee… Holcum? Bailee… hole… cum? Oh!! Bailee’s holes need cum! Duh! I need to get dressed so I can go out and get laid! That’s like, totally super important. No wonder I was thinking that!”
Last day of the Pervert Pentet reposts. Today I’ll be doing Bimbo Bailee and Sharking Sherry. The images above are from my recent Sims 4 game, that actually allows an impressive enough amount of character customization that I can functionally make cheap illustrations of my original characters without too much effort (though I did admittedly work on a bit of a boob-morph with Bailee, the game doesn’t allow boobs that big).
As an update on the next section of “First Day of School,” I have the illustration finished, and I just need to polish the actual writing. If that goes well, I may be posting that in the next few hours, but almost certainly in the next day.
(Content warning and author’s notes: So I mentioned previously that this story wasn’t so good in it’s first iteration, I gave it a pretty significant re-write and, while Teira is a difficult character to write, I think I managed to do a decent job of making it at least acceptably good.
As for content this story is HEAVY on torture and does contain a snuff scene. As with most of the stories in the Pervert Pentet series, I want to remind you that you shouldn’t do anything that any of my characters do or attempt, but I want to ESPECIALLY emphasize it in this story, A few of the things I describe Teira surviving would have a moderate to high chance of being fatal in real life. This character’s ability to endure and survive torture is unrealistic in the real world. Do not do any of these things in real life…Seriously.)
Goddess Johanna’s heart fluttered in excitement as she stood across from Teira. Finally, she thought, after all these years, someone worthy of me.
Her mind flashed back over the lifetime of unsatisfied sadism. The time she’d spent in mental institutions and jail cells after carving her name in the flesh of her lovers. The dungeons that had blacklisted her as a dominatrix after one too many visits from an ambulance or a lawyer. None of them understood. They couldn’t understand what she’d always known about herself. That she was a goddess among vermin, and that her divinity demanded an offering of pain, a sacrifice of the flesh.
When she learned of the performance artist Teira Volks, she felt as though she’d discovered a mirror of herself, another real being who was above the nameless, faceless drones unworthy of even kissing the ground upon which she walked. A divine masochist making offerings of pain into the void; obviously hoping that a divine sadist like Johanna could come and put an end to her loneliness. She spent the next few months trying to get in contact with her. Explained who she was, detailed the things she had done, things that only another like her could understand. She was frustrated having to go through intermediaries; had the world been just she’d have made them flush their cocks down the toilet and thank her showing them how lowly they are.
But finally… finally, she was told she would meet with Teira herself. And not only that, but Teira was willing to offer her body upon the very first meeting. It was explained that the artist was looking for something, for someone, and that she was willing to allow Johanna to inflict any torment upon her on the chance that she was the one the artist had been seeking.
Like Johanna, Teira was German-born, but famous throughout Europe’s art scene, her recognition quickly growing throughout the world art community. She specialized in suffering, using her body as the medium through which she displayed her work. Johanna had first learned of Teira after an exhibition called “Concentration.” She had rented a small abandoned factory for the project, and performed hard labor nearly every waking hour, denying herself food, medicine, or rest. She lived a life as near to the victims of the WW2 concentration camps as she could manage. Inexplicably managing to push herself to the point of starvation and near-fatal sickness with no outside motivation to do so. In fact, many pleaded with her to stop, but she was indifferent to the outside world, even as they walked in and around the factory. She permitted freedom of movement to the audience, they could get as close as they liked to her. They could hear every agonized pant, could smell the blisters on her feet that had turned to festering sores. She had been indifferent to the audience, as if they were in a different world, even when they went so far as to touch her distended ribs. She had moved like a woman entranced, unnoticing of every pain and molestation. The only thing the audience wasn’t allowed to do was to interfere with her self-imposed suffering, the security team she hired saw to that. At some point, recording devices were no longer permitted in her vicinity. A few weeks after that, local authorities stormed the exhibition and forced Teira to stop. Her security team was arrested, and she was taken to a hospital where it was found that starvation, exhaustion, and infection were all racing to see which would kill her first. Images of her from that day circulated throughout the art world and far beyond; the artist who pushed herself, slowly, agonizingly, to the precipice of death. She became synonymous with the art of suffering.
And here she is, Johanna thought as she stood across the room from her. For a moment a troubling thought popped into her head. What if I was wrong? What if she isn’t worthy of me? What if she’s like the others, and she’ll be sniveling and begging me to stop five minutes from now?
She looked at the woman inquiringly, and to her relief, found that there was something about her that was unlike anyone she’d ever met. The thing she most noticed about Teira Volks was that something about her face made her look…severe.
The second thing she noticed is that she couldn’t tell exactly why it looked severe. Was it her features? No, in fact her facial features were quite pleasantly rounded. Perhaps her hair? No, while the short blonde Cleopatra cut was so neatly styled that it made her look almost robotic, it wasn’t responsible for the air of malice. The scars, perhaps! They had been so well mended she hardly noticed them at first examination. Thin, white dots and dashes, and the occasional slash written across her face like the ghosts of old wounds. The sheer number and variety was unsettling, but it wasn’t that either.
She realized at last… it was the eyes. A cobalt blue that didn’t merely pierce but stabbed like a frosted iron blade. It was as if those eyes knew that nightmares were reality, and the waking world was actually the dream.
She breathed in and swallowed as she met the woman’s gaze. Despite the mild temperature of the room, she felt almost certain that she would see her breath freeze in the air as she exhaled. Fortunately for Johanna, no such thing happened. The dominatrix briefly humored the idea that she might actually feel intimidated by Teira, but assured herself that it was just the unfamiliarity of being in the presence of another person of such power.
She stood in the middle of the brightly-lit bare room facing the almost impossibly confident masochist. Teira stood silently across from her. For a long time there was an awkward silence while the scar-faced woman seemed to be staring quietly into Johanna’s soul. She began to unbutton the black, double-breasted leather coat she wore.
“Shall we begin?
Johanna swallowed before nodding; she hoped her excitement wouldn’t make the artist think less of her. She chastised herself for even having such a thought. She watched as Teira’s coat fell in pile at her feet. Her slightly pudgy, yet still petite body was bare before her. She looked down at the coat, and the feet that stood in front of it on the hardwood floor. Two toes missing on her right foot. A few other scarred nail beds were apparent; three toes on her left foot were covered with scabs where the nails should have been, the result of recently being pried off carelessly, if Johanna were to guess. She glanced up to Teira’s hands; the last three digits of her right hand didn’t even have a hint of nails left, seemingly peeled off too many times to have regrown. Her pinky seemed slightly gnarled, as through repeatedly broken and reset. She had all ten fingers, at least.
The rest of her body wasn’t much different. Wounds in various stages of healing, some clean and surgical, others ragged. Beneath the very slight pudge of her mid-section her cunt was so marked with small keloids it almost looked as though someone had scribbled on it with a pale red marker. Her small-ish, slightly deflated looking breasts weren’t much better, with one of her nipples looking as though it might have been removed completely and remade surgically.
Johanna’s body was tingling, like a performer about to go on stage, so much so that she jumped slightly at the sound of the large trunk being dropped on the floor behind her. She spun around quickly to see Teira’s… attendant? Assistant? The large craggy-faced man named Heinrich who looked like the lead henchman in some American action film. Johanna had told him he’d need a dolly, or perhaps a second strong man to haul her trunk of sadistic toys up the stairs. Apparently, she’d been wrong.
Most of her direct interactions so far had been with Heinrich, and only by text, but that didn’t make her any more comfortable with him. What did make her comfortable was the agreement that was made. “No limits.” That’s what was agreed upon. There was no restriction on what she could to do Teira. Heinrich lingered briefly before stepping just outside the door and closing it behind him. He was the kind of man that would instantly set off alarms in the brain of any person with the slightest sense of self-preservation, yet Teira’s sense of ease didn’t seem diminished around him at all. Around either of them, despite the fact that she stood naked, waiting to be tortured.
She decided to turn her attention on Teira, and her anticipation into action. Johanna sensually glided over to the trunk and opened it decisively. Her fingers curled around a black wooden truncheon. Memories of their time together came flooding back, of kneecaps cracked and fingers broken, even a tailbone or two shattered.
The raven-haired woman placed the weapon on a large table, the only furnishing of the peculiar room. Her mind briefly considered the oddness of the space around her. Hardwood floors, and four white walls, seemingly freshly painted. Despite being in a residential building, it wasn’t an apartment. Just a plain, enclosed cube with harsh overhead lighting.
She continued unloading various implements of suffering carefully onto the table. A hammer and a box of nails specially made with extra large heads. An insertable that Johanna called “The Devil’s Cock.” A black single-tail whip. A large jug of vinegar coupled with a dirty rag. There was much more in the trunk, but Johanna decided to hold off for now, especially as some of her ‘toys’ required electricity, and there didn’t appear to be any outlets in the room.
It was time to begin; she could almost hear the praise she anticipated from her victim. Telling her that she truly was the goddess she believed herself to be, that she was the sadist Teira had searched her whole life for, that things would be different now that they were together. Johanna’s red-nailed fingertips clutched the harsh bludgeoning club as strode confidently to be face to face with her victim. Teira was five foot two at most, and in heels, Johanna was nearly a foot taller than her. The petite artist looked up expectantly; her calm, chilling eyes sent another spark of ice down Johanna’s spine. She clenched her teeth, a part of her hated how aloof she seemed; but at the same time, she relished the idea of pouring every ounce of hate and rage into her flesh.
She wound up with the truncheon and there was a fleshy CRACK as the wood made contact with Teira’s mouth, blood and teeth shot across the room. She took a step back coughing. That’s right, bitch! Eat your goddamn teeth!
But she was still standing, she still had her composure. She wanted Teira to be a crying puddle on the floor, she wanted to see those icy eyes filled with tears and desperation; praising her for bringing her to a place of despair no one ever has before. She wound up again and cracked her on the collarbone. A couple more times in the ribs, and finally a full-force blow to her right knee. The last one finally brought her to the floor.
It was a beautiful sight to Johanna, the great artist on the ground before her. Blood pouring from her split lips and shattered teeth. “Stay down!” she barked as she returned to her table to trade out the truncheon for a hammer and nails.
She knelt when she returned, her hand darted out to seize Teira’s foot. She expected it to be pulled away, but the woman made no effort to do so. She simply sat, staring at her with what looked like keen interest. Johanna pressed the outside of Teira’s foot against the hardwood floor and positioned a large nail just in front of her Achilles tendon. She expected to hear a scream when the hammer drove the metal spike through her flesh, but was rewarded instead with a sharp hiss as one makes from a paper-cut.
I will break this cunt! The vow was almost unconscious as she continued her work. A few more strikes secured one leg to the floor. She took a second nail and spread her victim’s legs obscenely wide before fixing the other limb in place with the metal spike pounded in just behind the ankle-joint. If anything, her reaction to the pain was less this time.
She stood, before driving the heel of her stiletto boot harshly into Teira’s sternum, kicking the sitting form onto her back. She gasped for breath as Johanna took a step to stand with full force on the inside of her arm, crushing the slightly loose skin of her tricep beneath her pointed heel. As she squatted down, the twisting of her boot was enough to draw blood. She didn’t care, her focus was to place a nail dead-center in her palm and crucify the masochist to the floor. She did the other hand to match and took a step back to look at her handiwork. Small puddles of blood beneath the end of each bound limb, her knee and ribs were turning a lovely shade of brutalized violet-black, devastated mouth still dripping with scarlet, but the eyes… those fucking eyes staring back at her. Calm, no tears, no pleading for mercy; just a girl mindfully observing the mutilation of her own body.
Johanna’s teeth clenched as she carefully picked up the implement she affectionately referred to as “The Devil’s Cock.” A fourteen inch wooden phallus that had been covered in hundreds of tacks and then wrapped in red leather so that the points formed a cactus-like array of metal barbs. It had a girth nearly as thick as her fist. This beast alone had landed some of her previous submissive’s in the hospital.
She lined it up with the blonde woman’s cunt and, knowing it was too big and too rough to force into her by conventional means, whacked the base of it with the hammer. Beads of blood immediately began streaming down over her asshole onto the wooden floor beneath. Johanna was tempted to look up, hoping to see Teira’s face contorted into agony, but was afraid of seeming too hungry for a response. She continued hammering the sadistic phallus into Teira’s most tender area. The only sound was the clack of hammer on wood echoing through the spartan room. Not a scream, not a whimper, not even a gasp this time. She felt more like a fucking carpenter than a dominatrix.
The sadist stood up, in her periphery she could still see Teira’s face. Serene as a goddamned Buddhist monk! She threw the hammer down angrily, and gripped the single-tail. Johanna had always been the type to push limits, to do the things she wasn’t ‘supposed’ to do. Her eyes glanced over the parts of Teira’s body that lesser sadists considered appropriate for whipping, eventually landing on a clear spot of skin just above the split lip and shattered teeth. She wound up… CRACK! The sound echoed through the small room as a welt appeared across Teira’s cheek, beads of blood formed seconds later and began to slowly make a crimson line down toward her ear. She wound up again, carefully watching for a response… CRACK! This time the whip drew blood instantly, as a small diagonal gash appeared on the bridge of her nose. Yet there was no response, she didn’t even blink when the whip made contact! She simply looked… unimpressed. Johanna’s gut felt caught in a vice, she’d never had the experience of a masochist who was too much for her. No, she thought to herself as she dropped the whip and grabbed the vinegar jug and rag, That’s not what this is, she’s pretending, she’s testing me. She’s on the edge of breaking, she must be. I will be the one. I will be the one to break Teira Volks, and that will prove that I am the only one worthy of her submission. It’ll prove that I’m not just a ‘psycho bitch.’ She’ll understand my greatness! She’ll make others understand! No one has ever understood! They’ve never understood how far beneath me they all are! Something I do will break her. Something I do will! break! her!
“Even you need to breathe, Teira Volks.” She growled quietly to herself as she pressed the filthy rag over her face. She popped open the plastic cap of the jug of vinegar and turned it slowly. She had plenty of experience waterboarding smart-assed masochists who thought they could handle anything. Using vinegar added an element of agony that had never failed to make her victims either lose their mind or beg for freedom. She was pleased to see the pale, naked torso of Teira thrashing almost as soon as she began pouring. Johanna slowly counted twenty seconds before she stopped and took the rag away. Teira coughed and spat for a long time, trying to expel the caustic liquid from her lungs. The dominatrix was satisfied that things were turning in her favor. She finally took a few ragged breaths, at which point Johanna threw the rag back over her face and started again. She observed the naked girl trying to flail, but bound to the floor by thick metal spikes. The extra-wide heads of the nails ensured she couldn’t rip her flesh free. She counted twenty seconds again before pulling off the wet rag, any longer and she’d need immediate medical care to keep her from dying. Even twenty seconds was pushing it.
It was well over a minute before Teira was able to take a breath again. Her eyes were bloodshot and her body thrashed desperately for oxygen.
One more time… then I’ll give her a chance to beg, a chance to tell me that I’m the one she’s been searching for. For a third time, Johanna threw the rag over Teira’s face and poured the acidic liquid down her nose and throat. Her thrashing this time was so violent that she managed to yank free the nail that skewered her left hand. Johanna wrestled it to the ground as she continued pouring, the metal still impaling the flesh of the now liberated limb.
Finally, the third pour was finished. She yanked the rag off her face and slammed the vinegar jug down next to her. She stood up and folded her arms with a menacing scowl. She waited for the inevitable tears, the satisfaction of hearing the screaming pleas for mercy she expected to come any moment.
She watched the sputtering wet coughs that actually contained blood now. Her face was a mess of spit and snot and tears. Her breathing turned to desperate gasps as she used her free left hand to wipe the mess from her face. Her breathing turned to ragged wheezing, and then suddenly she was silent. Calm. Her frost colored eyes looked up at Johanna’s.
No, no, NO! She screamed internally, I’m a fucking goddess!!! I’m a nightmare to masochistic little cunts like her!!! She’s not okay! This can’t be! This is impossible!
“What’s next?”
Two words from Teira’s bloodied mouth was all it took. So nonchalant; Johanna realized that she was powerless in the face of someone like this. The creature bound to the floor beneath her was a god of suffering, and her offering to the deity just wasn’t enough. She… wasn’t enough.
Johanna screamed in frustration, and for a moment considered throwing herself down upon her victim and using her bare fists to unleash her rage upon the woman who’d broken her, but she realized it’d only make her feel more powerless. Teira Volks had no more concern over her own flesh than a butcher did to an animal carcass. She turned away in shame and dropped to her knees in tears. She felt as though her soul itself had been gutted. Her identity, her pride, her ego, it came crashing down around her.
The pain in her psyche was so deep she didn’t even notice Teira systematically working the other three nails free. Nor did she notice the broken body limping decisively over to the trunk and picking up the smallest item, a box of razor blades. Johanna did notice when the single razor blade Teira removed swiftly bit deeply into the flesh at the back of her neck twice in rapid succession. She turned and attempted to push the woman away, but found her left arm to be quite paralyzed. Teira grabbed her roughly with bleeding hands and there were another pair of skillful cuts on the other side.
Johanna tried to stand up but stumbled forward on powerless arms. Johanna’s heart sank when she realized what had happened. Oh my god… She severed the motor nerves from my spine!
Adrenaline uselessly pumped through Johanna’s body while Teira pinned her and made another series of quick slices in her lower back. Her legs went limp. She wanted to fight back! She wanted to run! But every signal from her brain to her extremities now dead-ended a few centimeters from her spinal cord.
Teira stood and caught her breath. The damage to her body made her stance unsteady and her lungs rattled, but her maddeningly calm resolve was strong as ever. A few moments later she flipped Johanna onto her back to see wide, tearful eyes looking up at her in mortal terror. “Please, Teira!!! Don’t do this to me! Please!!!”
There was a brief pause as the the dominatrix realized her pleas were hopeless. “You are not what I am looking for.” She said in a dry, matter-of-fact tone, yet there was a hint of sorrow in her words.
Teira knelt between the terrified woman’s legs, trying to be careful not to agitate her own body’s wounds. She unzipped Johanna’s black leather pencil skirt and set it aside. She used the razor to snip the sides of her white, lace panties and placed them gently atop the skirt. For a moment she appeared to be contemplating the slightly overgrown rectangle of curly black hair that adorned Johanna’s pubic mound.
That was when the razor met flesh. Johanna began screaming as soon as Teira made the first incision across the top of the pubic hair. She made two more slits down from the edges and began to peel; using the edge of the razor to shave the skin from the deeper flesh. Teira’s eyebrows pulled together in focus, she’d need to take her time to do this right, especially with the wounds in her hands impairing her dexterity.
A few agonizing minutes later Teira had a still-attached flap of partially flayed skin embellished with Johanna’s pubic hair down to the top of her clit. She continued the vertical slits down either side of her vulva and began to separate the woman’s clitoris from the inside. It was tedious work, cleanly peeling a woman’s vulva off. One could easily be distracted by the shrieks of “OH GOD!!! PLEASE STOP!!! PLEEEEASE!!!” But Teira was not easily distracted. She felt a passing moment of satisfaction as she reached the perineum, having cleanly separated this woman’s external genitalia from the internal. She’d need to turn her over for the rest.
Re-positioning herself, she pushed the larger woman onto her belly with a grunt, and then returned to her work between Johanna’s legs. She began at the top of her posterior cleft with a horizontal incision, and again repeated the process of two vertical slits. Teira did as she had on the front of her body, peeling off the skin of her asscrack in a strip perhaps two inches wide. Thankfully, Johanna seemed to have ruptured her larynx from screaming, so Teira could perform her careful work without the risk of distraction. She would need to be careful when she reached the anus. Orifices were difficult to flay. Especially if one intended to preserve the cleanly peeled strip of skin. She stretched and cut across each fold of the anus, separating the skin from the muscle of her sphincter. The razor was beginning to dull, but fortunately, Teira was almost finished.
A final cut to join the strips in the middle and it was complete. A single long strip of skin, roughly the size and shape of a small clip-on necktie; the ‘knot’ formed by the triangular portion created by Johanna’s pubic mound, beneath which was a long, slender rectangle which contained the dominatrix’s disembodied vulva and anus.
Teira reverently laid the trophy on the floor just above Johanna’s head and laid down next to her. She curled up with her as if drifting off to sleep next to a lover. In a final, horrible act of cruelty, she casually used the razor to make a small nick in the side of Johanna’s trachea. Blood trickled into her lungs with agonizing slowness as Teira drifted off to sleep next to her dying victim.
A razor. Johanna thought a few minutes later at the end of her life. She turned my world into Hell with a single razor blade.
***
The next morning, Teira awoke in a pool of blood next to the pale corpse of Johanna. She saw that Heinrich had returned with a pair of large suitcases. He tossed one in her general direction. She struggled to her feet, her battered and bloodied body made any movement agony, as did the spiked dildo still embedded in her vagina, but she was never one to be overcome by something as mediocre as physical pain. She opened the case and put on the black rubber apron before pulling out the bonesaw and turning to Johanna’s remains. Heinrich was similarly attired. There would be a lot of work to do; disposing of the meat that was once Johanna would be the priority, but the bulk of the labor would be taking down the sound-proofed false walls and floor they’d installed in the apartment. She turned to her long-time partner.
(Technically this is part 3, I just posted part 1 and 2 as a single post)
CONTENT WARNING: This story focuses on a lesbian black woman who fetishizes rape, misogyny, racism, and abuse. This section briefly checks in with her recently raped Jewish friend, but the bulk of this section will focus on Nancy violently abusing and raping a young female-to-male transgender person.
And if you happen to be the type of person who might feel bad about getting off to a hate-crime (or you’re just a decent person who enjoys indecent erotica), consider donating to Trans Lifeline at translifeline.org
(Part of the Pervert Pentet Series)
Chapter 1, part 3
Nancy got a warm, fuzzy feeling when a mutual friend texted her saying that Hannah had been attacked and was presently being treated for her injuries at the hospital. She rushed out the door, eager to see the damage inflicted on her close friend.
She headed to a room on the second floor after a brief consultation with the hospital receptionist, Entering, she saw Hannah sitting in the bed; her spirit broken and so was her beak-like nose. The normally large protrusion that jutted from the center of her face was now swollen to even more ridiculous proportions. Nancy couldn’t help but let a laugh escape from her throat, but quickly stifled it, putting her hands to her face and passing it off as a cry of horror.
Hoping to add to her pain just a little bit more, Nancy rushed to her side and flung her arms around the little kike, squeezing her face tightly against her large breasts. She twitched and pulled away, obviously in pain.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I should have realized you’re not really touchable.” Nancy was proud that even now, she could drop subtle, subconscious jabs showing how repellent she thought Hannah was. “What happened, Hannah??”
“Somebody posted my pictures online. The ones I sent to you.” Her voice was even more whiny than normal; she sat hunched, staring down at her knees. “I don’t know how they got them, but they were giving out my address, too!” She began to weep. “Someone was pretending to be me, saying that I wanted to be… That I wanted this to happen. What’d I do, Nancy? I never did anything to anybody that would make them want to hurt me like this!” The sobs escalated to an ugly bawling.
Nancy sat, pulling her face into an expression of concern. She handed a tissue box to Hannah. “People will hate you no matter what you do. Some people just get off on hurting the weak. There’s not much you can do about that fact.”
Everyone hates you, you’re weak, you should give up hope; Somehow Nancy had managed to word those sentiments as though they were aimed to comfort.
After a few more moments of Hannah wiping the tears from her twisted, squealing Jew face, she turned back to Nancy, “I really appreciate you being here for me.”
“Of course! You’re one of my best friends. If you ever need to talk about what happened, I want you to know that I’m here for you, day or night.”
The two women spoke a few minutes longer, until Nancy elected to leave to make room for Hannah’s family, who had just arrived. She certainly didn’t want to get trapped in a room reeking so strongly of kikes.
She attended classes until late afternoon, at which time she popped over to her apartment to pick up the spy-cameras she’d had overnighted, then went back to the rape-crisis center hoping that Darla would return. She didn’t, but at least Nancy got some practice secretly surveilling some of the girls that came in.
That evening, she began to feel antsy. After all the delights she’d had the luck to witness in the last few days, she was starting to feel restless. She needed someone to rape.
She had a dating app in her phone that she’d set up under a fake name. She scanned through the few women who’d messaged or admired her, none of them were especially appealing. She decided to look at the males, thinking that maybe she could rape-bait one of them into assaulting her; it wasn’t exactly what she wanted, but then again, the wants of a man, especially a would-be rapist, would always surmount hers.
That’s when she saw it. A little cuntboy who called itself Angelo. If this thing thought it passed for male, it was sorely mistaken. She scanned the confused dyke’s profile and found the term “f2m” hidden at the bottom. Based on the message she’d sent Nancy, it seemed the desperate little twat was a little girl-crazy.
Nancy had a plan. She wrote back to Angelo, saying how handsome ‘he’ was, and how she’d love for them to get together soon.
The next evening, Nancy made her way to the restaurant that Angelo had picked out for them. The tranny cuntboy was already waiting on a bench out front. It sheepishly stood and introduced itself with a voice awkwardly forced into a lower register, then gave a quick, awkward hug before beckoning Nancy to join it inside.
A few inches shorter than Nancy’s statuesque frame, dirty blond hair cut short and neatly parted at the side, freckled cheeks beneath green eyes, and rather stylishly dressed; a white button-down shirt whose top two buttons were flirtatiously undone beneath a charcoal suit that actually managed to fit over the freak’s boyish frame. Angelo was just her type, not that Nancy would admit to the attraction.
Nancy had leaned into her femme side. A short, flowy, scarlet dress adorned her dark-chocolate skin, accessorized with a layered gold necklace and a druzy ring carved from a single piece of amethyst.
Angelo seemed eager to please, though just slightly on the timid side. Nancy laughed at “his” jokes, touched “his” hand from across the table, and looked down with a demure smile each time their eye contact lingered. She hoped her flirtations would speed the evening along.
Less than ninety minutes later they were walking into Angelo’s third-floor studio apartment. The room was tidy, with a muted color scheme and modern decor seemingly devoid of a woman’s touch. With a giggle, Nancy was upon the little cuntboy as soon as the door closed behind them, pushing it invitingly toward the bed centered against the rear wall of the room.
“Hang on a second.” it said.
Angelo stood, taking a zippo lighter from the bedside table, and lit a series of scented candles organized neatly around the room. It then hung up its coat and laid on the bed. Nancy crawled on top, her toothy smile ravenous with a hunger for what was to come.
Nancy kissed the dysphoric dyke hungrily, her hands frantically kneading across the flesh, moving downward until she felt a large silicone cock-and-balls that cuntboys like Angelo sometimes wore inside their underwear to play at being real men. She let out a little squeal of delight, pretending to believe that the thing in Angelo’s underwear was its own and not some dress-up toy ordered from an online costume shop for freaks.
She moved downward, gingerly unfastening the button of the slacks and pulling down the zipper. She stood briefly to yank the pants off with dramatic flair before playfully hopping back onto the bed, Angelo’s feet straddled between her knees.
“Wow,” Angelo said, almost breathless at Nancy’s forceful passion. It reached toward a drawer at the bedside table, “Let me get the, uhh, ya know.”
“Mmm, of course. I bet you need the magnum size.” She said, rubbing the front of Angelo’s grey boxer-briefs. She dipped her fingers into the waistband and pulled down as her face descended.
Then suddenly her expression changed. “What the fuck is this?” she demanded as she seized the realistic silicone genitals and held them accusingly above Angelo’s suddenly confused face.
Nancy threw the fake cock forcefully onto the bed and yanked the boxer-briefs down to the knees. “Oh my god! You’re a fucking girl?!?” She shouted, her lips curling in disgust at the last word.
Angelo sat up, her hands darting to her underwear to re-dress herself, Nancy responded by slapping her hard across the face. Angelo looked scared, and helpless. “You lied to me, you tranny cuntboy freak!” Nancy spat the words at her, before literally spitting in her cowering face.
“Please don’t call me that!” Her voice was cracking.
Angelo yanked her feet out from under Nancy and crawled off the bed, pulling her underpants up in the process. He wiped Nancy’s saliva from her eye and tried to compose herself. With still panicked breathing, she pointed at the door and tried to sound authoritative. “You need to leave right now.” she was actually shaking, “Get the fuck out of my house.”
While Nancy hated the ghetto-monkey dialect she had grown up hearing, she found it useful when the occasion arose that she needed to assert a sort of primal authority. Still, she couldn’t help but speak with her erudite style of slow enunciation and clearly articulated consonants, “You had best get that base out of your voice before I shove that fake cock up your bitch-ass, you tranny, cuntboy motherfucker.” Nancy took slow, menacing steps toward her as she spoke. Angelo retreated.
“That’s it, I’m calling the police!” She hurried over to the slacks that had been tossed across the room, squatting down to reach into the pocket. At that moment, Nancy threw a meticulously practiced roundhouse kick that caught the little girl-faggot just below the ear. Angelo was left slowly writhing, half-conscious on the slate tile floor.
“I told you what was going to happen, didn’t I, cuntboy?” Nancy reached down and raked her fingers through Angelo’s dark blonde hair before her fingers formed into a fist; dragging her by her hair, she forced her back onto the bed before yanking her boxer-briefs down and off in several successive, violent motions. She continued holding the tranny face-down by her scalp with one hand while she grabbed the fake cock with the other. She drove her knee into the cuntboy’s ass to spread it wide enough to expose her tight, pink asshole. When she began stuffing the soft rubber cock into her, Angelo seemed to regain her senses. She started thrashing, but Nancy overpowered her and began shoving even harder.
“No! No please! You’re hurting me!” Angelo tearfully cried out as Nancy’s french manicure scraped against her anus with each push. Nancy smiled with satisfaction as the confused boy-girl begged for the violation to stop.
After several agonizing seconds, Nancy had finally stuffed the last of Angelo’s packer up her ass. She released her victim and stood back to take in the sight of the broken bitch. “Flip over and show me your pussy.”
The little cuntboy closed her eyes tightly, as if trying to block out the world. Nancy grabbed her hair again, yanking her to her feet. She punched the girl hard in the face twice, the crystalline points of the amethyst druzy ring leaving deep wounds that would heal into permanent scars across her freckled cheeks.
“Lay down and spread your legs!” Nancy commanded. The terrified girl finally complied, blood dripping from her wounded face. The sound of whimpering providing soundtrack for the sight of the pink cunt, adorned with a neatly trimmed layer of wispy blonde fuzz.
“That’s fucking disgusting. If you don’t even know how to shave a pussy, than you don’t deserve one.” Nancy stomped over to the night-stand to grab the zippo lighter, then returned to the foot of the bed, pinning Angelo’s legs wide against the mattress with her knees. This ensured that the tranny wouldn’t be able to close her legs as she flipped open the lighter and ignited the flame. Angelo looked down in horror as Nancy brought the flame against her sensitive, pink cunt.
The bitter smell of burning hair filled the room as the boy-pussy went aflame. A panicking Angelo tried to sit up, but was met with Nancy’s strong, steely fingers clamping around her windpipe and pinning her to the bed. The pathetic twat thrashed frantically, she didn’t know whether to try to snuff the fire that was blistering the skin of her labia, or rip away the vice-like grip that was crushing her throat. In the end, she succeeded at neither.
The fire, thankfully for Angelo, went out after several seconds. The skin of her vulva was left bright red, with various round spots of white where the damaged skin was beginning to form blisters. “You know, if you just wore a skirt and shaved you cunt like a good girl, I wouldn’t have to do this for you. But you’re too fucked in the head to do that, aren’t you?”
Nancy released her throat, the tranny cuntboy had a coughing fit. Her legs were still pinned open, driven painfully wide by the pointed knees driven into the nerve-laden tissue of her inner thighs. She finally took a few gasping breaths as she realized that Nancy was still holding the burning lighter.
“I’m doing this to help you get better, you know. You’re probably going to be tempted to try to turn that little clit of yours into a full fledged dicklet sooner or later, so…” she paused for just a moment to forcefully blow out the flame of the zippo, leaving only the glow of hot-red metal where the flame had been, “let me remove the temptation.”
She drove the hot metal firmly against Angelo’s skin. She screamed as her clit turned to smoke; Nancy muffled the screaming, pressing her hand over the girl’s mouth. Even the half-silenced shriek was almost loud enough to drown out the wet, popping sound of boiling skin.
A few seconds later, she pulled the hot metal away, having left most of its heat in Angelo’s destroyed clitoris. Little bits of burnt flesh snapped off and stuck to the lighter. Upon examining the wound, she was satisfied to see a rectangular reddish-pink pit where the flesh had been, shiny-wet inside and wreathed with ragged black edges.
The toned, statuesque rapist needed to take a moment to catch her breath; they both did. She stood, closing the lighter and tossing it on the bed. She took a brief moment to stretch while she listened to the frantic screaming sobs as Angelo clutched her devastated genitalia. Nancy looked down with a smile to see the fake rubber penis peeking out of her asshole as she heaved with tears.
She had almost forgotten about that! She pinched the soft rubber tip and yanked the full mass out of the boycunt’s twitching asshole. Almost reflexively, Angelo seemed to reach out for it like a toddler who’s favorite toy was just stolen away. She watched as Nancy held the phony organ at arms length and walked over the the adjoining kitchen. There was a brief pause in the sobbing as Angelo tried to divine Nancy’s intention. A new wave of disbelieving shock came over her as she watched the piece that defined her identity dropped into the sink drain and Nancy’s finger moved swiftly toward the switch of the garbage disposal.
“NO! PLEASE!!!” She screamed like a little girl watching her teddy bear being eviscerated. Her voice was soon drowned out by the grinding sound as the only intact set of genitals she had left was turned into mangled rubbery slivers by the spinning metal blades.
“For someone who thinks they’re a boy, you sure cry like a little girl!” Nancy snapped.
The broken bitch-boy managed to whimper out “I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry? Sorry for lying to me, sorry for being a fucking pervert, or are you just a sorry piece of shit?” Nancy spat the words as an accusation.
“I’m so-oo-orry! Plee-heease! Please… just leave me alone.” Angelo barely managed to articulate the plea through the tears that streamed down her bloodied and battered face.
“You want me to leave?? I thought you wanted to get laid, you pathetic little dyke. What, am I suddenly not pretty enough for you anymore?”
“Why are you doing this to meee?”
Nancy rolled her eyes, “Okay, fine. You’re little pity-party worked. I’ll fuck you, you don’t need to beg.”
Angelo looked confused as Nancy advanced. She scrambled backward on the bed, leaving crumpled piles of sheets in her wake. Nancy grabbed her ankles and dragged her down forcefully before hopping onto the bed herself; her dense, muscular form crushing little Angelo beneath it. She began kissing the girl, tasting the salty combination of blood and tears as Angelo clenched her lips and eyes tightly. Undeterred, Nancy reached down and forced two fingers into the mutilated cunt below. Angelo twitched in fresh pain as she was roughly finger-raped. Kissing her way down the cuntboy’s neck and chest, she arrived once again at the mutilated pussy. From this angle she had the leverage to properly fist-rape the little tranny.
She added two more fingers roughly inside and began pushing. Angelo twitched violently at the painful new violation. Nancy encountered resistance when her bulky druzy ring pushed against the back edge of her hole.
“You’re ring! Please take off your ring!” Angelo regained her senses just enough to make the seemingly reasonable request not to be fisted by sharp points of rock. Unfortunately, Nancy didn’t feel very reasonable at the moment.
The fingers were roughly withdrawn, but only so Nancy could take a firm jab at Angelo’s mouth, splitting her lip and shattering a few of her teeth with the pointed formations of amethyst. “Don’t you dare tell me what to do, faggot!” She jammed her hand back up the girl’s burned and blistered vagina, her ring slowly scraping its way inside of her with a series of sudden violent thrusts. Angelo began screaming again as Nancy buried her hand wrist-deep inside of her.
“If you don’t shut the fuck up, I’m going to slit your throat.”
Angelo quickly grabbed a pillow to scream into as Nancy resumed her violent assault on her cervix. She punched in and out, making sure to bruise and scrape every inner surface with the crystal shards she wore as jewelry. After a few minutes of vigorous thrusting, she heard the dyke-faggot’s voice give out. She withdrew her hand, now slick with crimson blood whose hue was deepened upon her chocolate colored skin.
She looked down at Angelo, still pouring tears and blood and snot into the pillow and asked, “Well? I need to get off, too. Come here and lick my pussy.” She lifted the front of her blood-red dress, the wet streaks on her hand leaving barely noticeable stains. Beneath was a form-fitting pair of white cotton panties.
“I said lick my pussy, Angelo.” She demanded with a sneer.
The defeated form slowly dropped down from the bed, walking on her knees over to where Nancy stood, waiting. Nancy dipped a finger down and pulled her underwear aside, revealing the firm, flawless skin of her coffee colored labia.
Angelo opened her mouth and hesitantly moved it toward the neatly formed, feminine flower. Just before her tongue made contact, Nancy shot a stream of pale-yellow piss straight down Angelo’s throat. She began to cough and turned away.
Nancy grabbed her head angrily with both hands, “Don’t you dare turn away!” She forced the tomboy’s face back into the path of her urine. “Open your eyes! Open your fucking eyes!” She pried her date’s eyes open and shot salty piss straight across the green irises. When she was finally done using Angelo’s face as a urinal, she threw her onto the cold tile floor and gave her a couple of firm kicks in the torso.
Finally satisfied, she looked down at the sad, tormented form. She listened to the small, heaving tears of the thoroughly raped woman at her feet, her ragged voice periodically went silent. It was as if she was having a conversation with some unseen entity, and responding only in the language of weary sobs.
Nancy smiled, “Thanks for buying me dinner, Angelo. I had a great time tonight.”
WARNING: This story focuses on a lesbian black woman who fetishizes rape, misogyny, racism, and abuse. As such, there will be copious amounts of offensive language and themes, including the sexualization of victims. The story is fiction, and nothing written here should be taken as an endorsement for any of these view or activities. In fact, I wholeheartedly condemn nearly everything the main character thinks and does in this story. I believe that consent is a central tenet of morality, and violations of it are only acceptable in the context of fiction.
***
Introduction:
Nancy had grown up in a conservative, affluent neighborhood. Being one of the only black girls, she became a target for bullies and bigots at an early age. The fact that she dressed and acted like a lesbian before she even fully realized her sexual orientation certainly didn’t do her any favors.
Her mother worked hard to give her a better life than she’d had; as such, she could be a bit dismissive of her problems. When she was little, and informed her that she was being bullied at school, she simply suggested that she try to turn her abusers into friends. Taking her suggestion to heart, from that point on, Nancy always responded to cruelty with kindness. She want out of her way to accommodate bullies, to show them more kindness than she showed anyone else.
In middle school, she pressed her mother to tell her about her birth-father. After a long conversation, her mother finally admitted that Nancy had been conceived through rape by a man her mother had never met. She reasoned then, that her mother had virtually nothing to do with actually creating her. Her father was the one who took the initiative that resulted in her existence. Therefore, every moment of her life, every instant of joy or pleasure she took from being alive, she owed to a rapist. Her gratitude and affinity for rapists and abusers began to reach a level that bordered on worship, with those who defied them being, in her eyes, akin to heretics.
When she reached high-school, her views became even more extreme. She had internalized her affinity for sadists so much that she began to hate victims that tried to fight back. She felt as though they were dishonoring the blessing they had been given. When her best friend, Janet tearfully confessed that she’d been date-raped by a boy she had a crush on, Nancy insisted that she not tell anyone, convincing her that she must have enjoyed it and that she should call the boy and apologize for being such an ungrateful brat. She was proud of herself for facilitating the three-month abusive relationship that followed. Even prouder that she thought to secretly ask the boy out herself, allowing him to cheat on her best friend, as was his right and her honor.
Nancy loved how creative the young man was. He often had Nancy come over right before a date with Janet so he could fuck her and have Janet unknowingly suck her best friends cunt juice off of his cock. He liked to ask Janet for particularly humiliating naked pictures which Nancy insisted it was her duty as a good girlfriend to send him. She often assisted Janet with these photoshoots, helping her write humiliating words on her body, making sure she spread her ass far enough to make her holes clearly visible, ensuring that her tongue really was making contact with the inside of the toilet.
Their friendship ended after the boy mentioned to Nancy that her friend refused anal, and fought vigorously when he tried to force her. Nancy was appalled at learning of her friend’s refusal, insisting that she would help; that night, they stripped her naked and Nancy held her down and covered her mouth while the boy raped her ass. It’s no wonder she thrashed about so much, her barely-lubricated asshole was bleeding pretty badly by the end. Nancy made her apologize for ruining the boys sheets and made her give him money from her purse to replace them.
Janet didn’t talk to Nancy after that, which annoyed the budding rape-enthusiast. That left Nancy with the problem of how to distribute her former friends humiliating pictures as punishment for her ingratitude. Certainly she couldn’t allow the boy to be blamed for sharing them with their classmates. Hell, she would have happily lied under oath to ensure he didn’t suffer the consequences of taking what was his.
Eventually a solution became apparent. There was another girl in her school who always rejected the advances of the boys, a nerdy type who talked back when people made fun of her. Nancy eventually figured out that this girl was a dyke as well. She had no problem with dykes, per se, she was one herself. She had a problem with bitches who thought they were too good to be a plaything for cruel men. So she hatched a plan.
She pretended to befriend the dyke, and eventually the two of them became lovers. A few weeks later she broke up with her very publicly at school, making sure to loudly announce how bad her pussy tasted and claiming she was breaking up with her because she couldn’t stand the girl’s hardcore scat-fetish. This would ensure that the little bitch would be made fun of for the rest of her Senior year, and it would open the door to blame her for posting Janet’s humiliating pictures online.
When the authorities investigated, Nancy admitted that she’d helped Janet take the pictures (claiming that it was Janet’s idea, and backing up the boy’s claim that it was actually Janet who pushed for kinky sex, a story she’d arranged with him earlier). She said that the dyke must have hacked into her computer after she broke up with her, and distributed the pictures as payback. Nancy made sure to include a few compromising pictures of herself in the photo-dump just to make the story more believable.
The plan had worked, in one fell swoop Nancy had managed to humiliate that ungrateful bitch Janet, and teach that stupid dyke what she gets for refusing men their right to use her body. It was one of the great triumphs of her young life, but she only just barely got away with it. Nancy knew that she’d need to be more careful from now on if she wanted to continue abiding by her life’s mission to help all bullies, abusers, and rapists.
So when she got to college she reinvented herself. Publicly she was an advocate for every marginalized group. She went to feminist marches, she spoke at Black Lives Matter events, and collected donations for LGBT causes. This way, she could be seen as a champion for the abused, they would trust her. Never suspecting that she actually masturbated each night to the teary-eyed confessions by dumb bitches whose boyfriends smacked them around or sorority cunts who didn’t appreciate getting gang-raped when they were stupid enough to get drunk at a party.
A few years in, Nancy was majoring in psychology and volunteering at a rape crisis center as a counselor. This is when she met Darla.
Part 1
Nancy walked in that day with a button-up shirt and tie beneath her black vest. Her masculine fashion sense left little doubt to onlookers that she was a lesbian. It was form-fitting enough to display her slim body. Had she had her clothes ripped off in public, as she so often fantasized, observers would see a strong, athletic body with clear muscle definition beneath her smooth, dark brown skin. They would also notice the ample curves of her large breasts atop her six-pack abs, a contrast rarely seen in non-black women. Her hair was styled in neat dreadlocks that hung down just past her chin. Her whole style screamed liberal black lesbian feminist. Yet she dressed with enough allure that she hoped every misogynist, racist, and sadist that saw her went home and planned how to make her scream while they raped her dyke-nigger asshole bloody. She secretly believed it’s what all women deserved, and made it her life’s mission to ensure it happened to as many women as possible.
When she saw the defeated-looking woman with a bruised face in the rape crisis center office, she knew she was in for a treat.
“Hi, have you been helped yet?” Nancy said to the girl in a gentle voice.
“They said they don’t have anybody who can see me right now, and they said I have to wait.” she responded meekly, still staring at the ground, but obviously in distress.
Nancy squatted down in front of the girl to meet her eyes and gave her a reassuring smile. “My name is Nancy, would you like to go somewhere private and we can just sit together? If you want to talk, I’ll listen. If you want to just sit, that’s okay too. If you need a shoulder to cry on, or a hand to hold, I’ll be there for you if you want. And if, at any point, you think you’d feel better being alone, you’re welcome to leave, I won’t judge you or think less of you no matter what. I only care about making sure you get what you need right now.” She gave some version of this speech to almost every ungrateful cunt that came in. It made it easier for them to open up to her.
The girl nodded and Nancy led her to a small, quiet room where they sat across from one another. “Would you like to tell me your name?” Nancy asked.
“Darla.” She replied.
“It’s very nice to meet you Darla. What can I do to help you, today?” She asked softly.
“He raped me again last night.” Darla replied, her tone hectic. “I don’t know what I did! He always does this, even though he says he’s going to stop!”
Haha! What a stupid cunt! Nancy thought. “Who did this to you?”
“My ex boyfriend. Back when we were started dating, he said he understood that sex is something that’s really, really hard for me because of my childhood. But after a little while he said he didn’t want to wait anymore. And after that he stopped caring, and he didn’t even stop when I said no and begged him! That’s why I broke up with him, but he called me and said he changed. Except it seemed like he really meant it this time! He asked me to come over so he could give me a gift to apologize. But when I got there he…he…”
Oh, come on, don’t tease me you little rape-slut, Nancy thought, “It’s okay, you’re safe with me.” her gentle voice reassured the girl.
“He…put it in my butt.” Darla replied blushing, though the bruising on her face made it difficult to tell.
“This was the first time he’d forced you to have anal sex?” Nancy asked
Darla nodded, “That was always like really, really super off limits.” Tears rolled down the girls face. “And, and, and he knew that! I said I’d break up with him if he ever did that. He said he always wanted to, and that he was going to do it now that I can’t break up with him again.”
Well I can’t fault his logic! she thought as the girl cleaned the tears from her face with a tissue. Nancy briefly had a fantasy in which she congratulated the girl’s ex-boyfriend for a stellar job of tricking her into getting raped so many times, followed by the two of them laughing over how stupid she was to fall for it so many times. A brief moment later she considered how improved the fantasy would be if Darla were bound naked and gagged listening to them during the exchange as they prepared to rape her together. She was tempted to smile as she contemplated the scenario, but fortunately she was practiced at not letting her inner thoughts show on her face.
“You mentioned that sex was difficult for you because of your childhood. Was there something that happened when you were younger that resulted in you having a strong negative reaction to that particular act? Nancy asked.
“My parents used to make me do that when I was little. They used to make videos and let strangers do it to me for money.”
“They made videos of you having anal sex when you were underaged?”
“They stopped when I was fourteen, they said I was too old. But they only had men put it in my butt, because they said it’d be really bad if I got pregnant and had to see a doctor.” Darla explained, her lip quivering.
Jackpot! Nancy thought, I’ve got a real life porn-star in front of me! She wondered how many men and women had masturbated while watching her little asshole get sodomized. A spark of anger suddenly shot through Nancy. Ungrateful cunt, do you know what I would have given to have a childhood like yours?!? Her thoughts alternated back and forth between arousal and resentment. She compromised between the two emotions when she vowed to make Darla properly suffer for how blind she’d been for all the wonderful honors that her family and boyfriend had bestowed on her.
“Your boyfriend knew this when he anally raped you?”
“Yeah! He said he thought it was funny. He laughed and said that this keeps happening to me because I’m a whore, and I deserve it.” Darla said with tearful anger.
Smart AND a sense of humor! How dare this dumb bitch deny this charming boyfriend of hers the right to use his victim! She should be begging him to blister her cunt with a belt to show how sorry she is! God, I hate her!
“You’re a good-hearted person. It was very kind of you to keep giving him chances. But your kindness doesn’t mean you deserve to be raped.” The fact that you’re weak and you have a cunt means you deserve to be raped. Nancy finished the thought in her head.
The rest of the session continued along the same theme, with Darla pouring her heart out about her tragic life full of rape, molestation, and abuse. Nancy struggled to contain her excitement, but managed to maintain her professional disposition. Her only worry was that her cunt may have soaked through her slacks and left a stain on the chair. She resented this pathetic girl for having been given so much, yet being so stupid as to complain about it.
Finally finished with her cathartic confessions, Darla was finally ready to leave. Nancy, not wanting this delightful encounter to be fleeting, wrote down her phone number on a slip of paper and handed it to Darla. “I know you feel better now, but this isn’t something you can get over in one session. I’m taking a special interest in you. Feel free to call or text whenever you need, and I absolutely expect to see you back here soon.”
“Thank you, Doctor. That means a lot to me.” Darla replied before hugging her tightly. Nancy only had an Associate’s Degree, but chose not to correct her, hoping the assumption would work to her advantage at some point in the future. Darla walked out, riding on the high of catharsis.
***
Nancy stayed for a few more hours, but the rest of the afternoon was rather banal. A few girls came in asking about domestic abuse resources or abortion services. Much as she didn’t like helping these little rape-dolls, she had to if she was to keep her cover intact. Normally, she’d at least get a kick out of making girls give a few extra details before she provided them with what she wanted, but all she could think about is how she wanted to ruin and violate Darla.
When she left the center, she was so lost in thought, she hadn’t even heard the awkward footsteps of the girl racing to catch up to her.
“Hi, Nancy! I’m really glad that I get to volunteer here with you. You’re such an inspiration.” the girl said, failing at coming up with a natural way to start a conversation.
“Oh, Hannah. Hi, I didn’t notice you.” she replied. Hannah was a pansexual Jew-cunt that answered phones at the rape crisis center. She also took care of all the accounting. She’d been raped by her friend’s older brother when she was ten years old and it fucked with her self-esteem. She was desperate to get people to like her, a fact which Nancy regularly took advantage of. The big-nosed bitch always tried too hard, especially with people who treated her like shit.
“So, do you have any plans tonight?” Hannah asked.
Nancy smiled and took the Jew-cunt’s hand as they walked, interlocking her fingers. “I do! I’ve been dating a lot; getting pretty lucky in the romance department lately. But I don’t want to tell you about that, it’d be inconsiderate of your feelings. I’m sure you have something interesting going on. Tell me about that.”
Nancy knew that Hannah wasn’t especially popular and had a bit of a crush on her. Her background in psychology allowed her to utilize her knowledge to hurt Hannah in subtle ways while still pretending to be her friend. In a few sentences, she’d managed to remind her of the humiliating rejection that had occurred a few months ago; impress upon her the fact that while she has trysts with lots of women, she doesn’t find Hannah attractive enough to date; and put her on the spot to share plans that Nancy knew she obviously didn’t have.
The pair of them walked hand-in-hand as Hannah’s eyes frantically darted back and forth in thought as her chest slightly tensed, not knowing how to respond.
“Oh… ya know.” she finally replied with a forced smile.
“No, I don’t know. Come on, Hannah! Open up a little, you’re always so timid.”
“Ummm. Just… just catching up on some reading. Heh. Guess we’re not all as popular as you.”
“Hey, you’re a wonderful person. Any man, woman, or nonbinary would be lucky to be with you!” With that, Nancy kissed the lonely, desperate kike on the cheek and veered off in the other direction.
Nancy’s mind began to reel with delightfully villainous ideas. It’ll probably be a few days until I get a chance to see Darla again, she thought, Maybe it is finally time to give Hannah some attention.
***
Part 2
That evening, Nancy went home and ordered a few spy cameras that she could use to record subsequent encounters with Darla. With that quick errand finished, she focused her attention on ensuring that her good friend Hannah the big-nosed Jew-cunt finally got put in her place.
Nancy worshipped individuals who violated others, but she did have a certain affinity for rapists on a cultural or societal scale as well. It’s why she has a strong veneration for men, whites, and authority figures (the last group being made up, predominantly, of white men). It was no wonder that she had developed a fetish for misogynist white-supremacists; in fact, she’d become a bit of one herself.
Jews like Hannah were among the worst, Nancy believed. As a shit-skin dyke, she couldn’t exactly claim superiority, but at least Nancy knew her place in the world. Hannah, however, was such a stereotypical Jew that it almost seemed intentional. She whined about being raped when she was little, she whined about her ancestors being tortured in the Holocaust, she even sometimes whined about her ancestors being enslaved in Egypt. In typical Jew fashion, she played them off like jokes, but Nancy knew that the little kike actually did feel as though these things were injustices.
Nancy hoped her friend would eventually learn her lesson and join her in honoring all the wonderful contributions that rapists and abusers make to society, but she was impatient and wanted to help her along.
A few months before, she sent Hannah a naked picture of herself out of the blue. She had picked up on the girl’s crush on her and hoped to use that to subtly humiliate her. Hannah’s response was ecstatic, she poured her heart out, saying how she’d loved her from afar for so long and was overjoyed to know that she felt the same way. After that followed a series of lewd images of the black-haired kike. Nancy didn’t reply, despite the increasingly nervous-sounding texts that followed. Instead, she confronted Hannah the next day in person. She remembered the conversation vividly…
“I felt like I owed it to you to explain this in person. I think you got the wrong idea yesterday. I had a great day at the gym and I was just feeling really good about my body, so I sent pictures to some of my close friends, but it was completely platonic, Hannah. I’m just a very body-positive person. I’m so sorry you got the wrong idea, it must have been so humiliating to you, but I could never be intimate with you. I value our friendship so much, so I just want to be clear. You are not attractive….to me. I still think you’re a great person, but I could never find you physically appealing.”
Nancy smiled as she thought back on that moment with pride. The look of pain and humiliation on Hannah’s face was priceless. She had run to the bathroom just after the conversation, and Nancy snuck in a few minutes later to hear her crying loudly. She felt an exhilaration at knowing she’d hurt the girl so deeply. In just a few moments, Nancy had left a mark in her mind and soul that would last for years, probably decades; words that would echo over and over again. There was a sort of romance to that, knowing that her friend would carry that moment with her for such a long time. It was the kind of gift that bullies left their victims with. But tonight, Nancy wanted Hannah to have an even better gift.
She knew that Hannah would be home alone tonight, so Nancy reached out to some of her online resources. She could be herself on the internet, and it made her many friends among rape-baiters and rapists. Those were the people she needed that night.
Nancy was posing as Hannah online, she was uploading the obscene images that the Jew-cunt had sent her a few months before and claiming that she was finally ready to fulfill her fantasy of being brutally violated by racists. She had even photoshopped an image she’d found of Hannah online. The original image showed her face holding a sign reading “I need feminism because no one believed me when I told them I was raped. I was 10.” But with some slight touch ups, in the new image, the sign read, “I don’t need feminism, I need my Jew-holes brutally gang-raped by Nazi cock.” Photoshopping “I need feminism” signs had become a bit of a hobby for Nancy, and she’d become pretty good at making them look real.
She was sure to include this new picture along with the other images of her naked body. She sent them to anyone with potential, even posted them online in a few spots with her name and location. Finally she got into a conversation with someone who was close enough and real enough to get it done tonight. Nancy shared private details, still posing as Hannah and claiming to consent to anything he and his friends wanted to do to her. She begged him for an assurance that he’d violate every hole, that he’d beat her. Even made him promise that he’d break her big Jew-nose. She warned him that she wanted it to be real, so she was going to beg and cry a lot, but they weren’t to stop raping her, no matter what.
The stranger online gave assurances that he’d do everything she asked and more. Nancy proceeded to give him Hannah’s home address, along with details of her house, and the location of the spare key. She finished by thanking him, then went off to masturbate for hours as she thought about all the wonderful things that could be happening to Hannah that night.
I’m such a good friend. She thought with a smile before falling asleep.
