The Flesh Project

SHATTERED ANGEL

As Ashley crept into the cafeteria in the early hours of the morning, he was lugging what was, for a boy his age, a curiously adult train of thought. He had been awakened by the jostling of the bed- his mother had returned late, smelling of perfume and sweat. He had watched through slitted eyes, pretending sleep, as she stripped off her nurses’ uniform.

In the dim light of the evening, a single-lamp glare from the bedside, his eyes had been able to detect the sheen of sweat on her body. He could see great shining streaks on her chest, and knew that his mother’s porn-star tits had been cum upon. The wideness of the stains suggested to him that she had smeared the hot whiteness upon herself before scooping it upward and toward her mouth. He could see this as clear as day, had seen it before, not in his imagination but in person.

He could further see that the short growth of pubic hair above her cunt was matted with moisture, and that the lips of her pussy, the feverish, dripping crotch that had borne him into the world, were stretched and glistening with lubrication. She had had someone inside of her, maybe more than one person, and he had had them there recently, mere minutes before. Her sopping slit was the admission to every lewd accusation in his young but experienced mind. His mother had been fucked, and fucked hard.

Ashley knew that, if he crept between her legs after she made her way into bed, if he started to lap at her swollen cunt, he would taste the coppery, slick flavor of cum leaking out of her jizz-soaked sex. Again, it would not have been the first time. And she would not stop him, either. She would encourage him. She would whisper in his ear how sexy it was, how hot and nasty, to have her own child suck a man’s sloshing cumload out of her pretty pink pussy, and use an agile hand to push his face eagerly into his crotch.

Both he and his sister had performed this act on her. Sometimes both at once. On occasion, they had shared it, passing their mother’s intimate, nasty leakings back and forth between them, carrying the white, slick bounty, still warm from the scalding insides of her hot slit, between their perfectly matched tongues.

For most people, such a thing was so wrong, so beyond their own sexual behaviour, that it couldn’t help but send a shiver of taboo pleasure up the spine, even as they vehemently denied such a reaction. Not admitting it was part of what made it beautiful. But for Ashley-

His thoughts were cut off abruptly as he approached the vending area. He could hear the low hum of the machines in the back, and see the light surrounding them… but the main dining area was dark. Except for one orange, flaring cigarette-end in the gloom, and the slow rise of smoke above it.

“Who’s there?” he asked. He clutched the sides of his shorts without even realizing it, piling the side areas into bunches between nervously-clenched fists.

The single figure continued silently smoking. He wove his way between the tables and chairs, moving closer, nimble feet pattering softly on the floor. Not a cold floor, not in this place- one of the few benefits of always having the temperature cranked, Ashley thought to himself, was not having to wear socks when you go out for a late snack.

He came close enough to make out the shape of the figure in the distance. The first thing he saw was a mass of long, platinum blonde hair. The face framed by the hair was still lost in the darkness, but Ashley could see that the smoker was a woman, and one with hair that he had not seen before. As he came closer, he saw more and more- a perfect, pale-skinned face, ample chest covered by a light-colored bra, long legs, low-cut lace panties. A true beauty. And a complete mystery- monolithic in the darkness.

The woman seemed to regard him, to look him over. With one graceful foot, she shifted a chair out from the round table where she was stationed. Then he heard her low, commanding voice. A voice, he thought, like a warrior angel.

“Have a seat.”

He couldn’t help but obey. Part of it was the aura of command in her voice, but most of it was a feeling he had- a feeling of personal destiny, that this moment was his own special moment in the FLESH PROJECT, something to hold on to. A rendezvous that he didn’t have to share with his mother and his sister. His smooth cock was rock hard in his pants.

Ashley did sit, and the woman opened her eyes and looked him straight in the face for the first time. Her eyes were shining indigo mirrors, he could see the orange pinpoint of the cigarette end in each one. The effect was hypnotic.

“Who are you?” he asked. If she had said “an angel”, he would have barely registered any surprise. If wings had unfolded from her back, he would barely have mustered a nod.

“I’m new here,” was the reply. “I’ve only just arrived, and I don’t know anyone.” The woman took a slow drag on her cigarette, and let the smoke leak from her mouth like a ghost- not exhaling, only allowing it to drift from her body. Mesmerizing. “I’m Lorelai,” she said. “What’s your name?”

“Ashley,” he replied.

She held out her half-smoked cigarette to him. Ashley’s heart jumped. There was almost no sexual act that he had no experienced, but cigarettes, which his mother had never allowed him to have, still held some air of naughtiness and disobedience. Exciting feelings. Especially when shared with a stranger. Still, he would test her.

“My mother doesn’t want me smoking,” he said. He was careful to make the unspoken distinction between his mother’s wishes and his own. In return, he got the dark, beautiful smile he was looking for.

“She’s not here,” said Lorelai. Her voice was the low purr of a seductress. “And I am.” Ashley took the cigarette. The first inhalation made his head swim. It was all he could do to avoid coughing in the darkness, but he managed. He could smell her sweet breath on the filter. When he handed it back to her, she stubbed it out.

“Good,” said Lorelai. With one hand, she brushed Ashley’s bangs back from his face, revealing his deep, California-blue eyes. To him, her touch was electric. His cock jumped in his cotton pajama bottoms. Then he saw her eyes drop to his crotch, and there was a spine-tingling moment of tension- a moment he never experienced with his family, where having a hard-on was always ok. This was the moment where you want to fuck someone, they look down and see that you want to fuck them, and nobody knows what’s going to happen. It could be wrong. It could be bad. And that was exciting.

“Mmm,” said Lorelai. “Looks like you’re hard.” She extended a hand toward the tented fabric just below his midsection, caressing one long, pale finger down the side of the bulge in his pants. “It’s ok.” She put a hand gently on his arm, her white skin contrasting starkly with his deep tan, and began to draw his hand closer to the area between her legs. There was a squeal of plastic on tile as she shifted forward in her seat and spread her knees slightly. Her eyes were now directly across from his.

“Feel this,” was all she said. And of course he did, letting her draw him in. His fingers brushed against taut, slick silk, and he could feel the warmth of flesh beneath, the sexy, thick folds of her slit. As he brought his fingertips to the middle of her panties, he could feel moisture. At the same time, he felt her soft hand move overtop of his dick, rubbing it through his pants.

“I know what you want,” she whispered to him. “You want to do something bad.” Her hand flicked inside his waistband, caressing his cock. “You’re in search of something that remains outside boundaries.” Ashley could barely speak, but he managed to choke out a word as his fingers explored the damp front of her thin, light-blue panties, the last line of defense between his touch and the wet, slick valley of her cunt.

“Yes.” In truth, she was articulating things that he had felt, but did not have the words to explain, even to himself. How did she know? How could she tell?

“You want to do something you have to hide,” Lorelai continued, “because hiding it is most of the fun.” Suddenly, she pulled grabbed him by the arms and pulled him forward. He went to his knees. His face was perched on the edge of her chair, inches away from the thin panties stretched over her wetness. In the close proximity he could see the outline of her labia, her clit, and the fluid-soaked depression of her slit. She pulled him up, gently, her mouth went to his ear.

“If fucking becomes is normal,” Lorelai whispered, “then nothing is fucking anymore. Everything is one big, pointless orgy of boredom.” She looked him in the eye. “Sex is supposed to be secret. Fucking is supposed to be dirty. You’re supposed to lie about it, you’re supposed to hide it.” She clenched her teeth. “You’re supposed to make it hurt,” she seethed in his ear.

Her hand was stroking his cock now, jacking the smooth length expertly. Ashley could only utter short exhalations of breath as she worked his cock with one nimble hand, hand-jobbing him inside of his soft pajama bottoms.

“You still have secrets,” she went on. “They didn’t screw everything up completely, even though they tried. You were brave enough to hang on.”

She pushed forward out of her chair and went to her knees. Ashley gasped as she pulled down his pants, causing his rock-hard boycock to slap his flat, smooth belly after breaking free of his descending waistband. “I won’t pretend that you’re an innocent little boy,” Lorelai said, unsnapping her bra. Ashley watched as he thick, beautiful tits swung free, nipples hard and erect.

“But I’m going let you get off between my tits anyway,” she continued, letting her bra fall to the floor. “And while you do, think about those secrets you still have.”

Then, with two long-fingered, sexy hands she hefted her tits upward, squeezing them together around his Ashley’s cock, and began to massage them up and down his shaft. The warmth of it was astounding, and with each stroke, one could see his bloated, flaring cockhead peek up from between her jugs, droplets of pre-cum beginning to leak from the piss slit.

“Oh!” breathed Ashley, inhaling sharply. The sight and sensation of his cock, hairless and perfect, being enveloped by Lorelai’s perfect tits- it was almost too much to bear, right off the bat. The expression on the platinum blonde’s face was one of expectation. Ashley closed his eyes and tried to imagine what few things he had left that were dirty, naughty, nasty, shameful…but it was no use. His mother- she would enjoy this, beg for it, she would encourage him, tell him she wanted his cum on her face, she would act like this was the most normal thing in the world, to drink the sperm from her own son’s spurting cock-

“Pay attention, Ashley,” Lorelai whispered. “Your lack of innocence is, in and of itself, a special kind of innocence.” She continued to squeeze her breasts together around his cock, up and down, the soft pressure of skin, then the release- achingly, an ebb and flow of flesh, and heat. Her body was warmth, and life, and salvation. Her mouth was still moving, forming phrases and words he could barely understand.

“What you’ve been missing is guilt,” she continued, darting her tongue down to lick at his glans as it poked out from the top edge of her massaging titflesh. “You’ve never known it. You’ve never been able to think of yourself as a bad little boy,” she teased him. A semi-clear, milky bubble of cum crested at entrance of Ashley’s piss slit, threatening to spill over. The boy watched, awestruck, as Lorelai dipped her tongue down, connecting the tip to the cum-bubble, and then drew it up toward her perfect mouth, trailing a thin, spiderweb line of sticky sperm back down to the head of his dick as she tucked the pearly treasure inside.

“Mmm,” she said. “Your cum tastes good to me. I can’t wait for you to spray it on my face, and all over my tits. I’m going to love it because of how dirty it makes me feel. It’s not normal. It’s fucked up- a sexy little 13-year-old boy is about to cum all over me, and I want it so bad. This isn’t right, it’s wrong. So wrong that it’s beautiful.”

She squeezed her tits together, hard, over his cock, enveloping it in warmth, in slick sweat. He could feel the beating of her heart against the underside of his dick.

“Oh my god, I’m going to cum!” Ashley gasped, barely able to speak. In his mind, he was tit-fucking not just this angel, this goddess, but also his mother, and the look on her face was not the usual hollow and ecstatic grin. No, it was a look of shame, her eyes were brimming with tears. He could hear her voice telling him to stop, that it was wrong, asking him why he was making her present herself, making her push her tits together around her son’s rutting cock, making her pleasure him, making her open her mouth and accept the hot, spermy contents of his boiling balls…

“Yes!” he whispered to himself. “You cry! Cry! You slut!” He started to buck his hips, thrusting his cock in between Lorelai’s heaving breasts, plowing the slick, warm fuck-tunnel of her chest, his cockhead emerging just enough to brush her hot lips at the apex, and receive a lash from her extended tongue.

As he pounded away in Lorelai’s cleavage, his head was a whirlwind of visions. He saw his mother opening her mouth as ropes of his pure, white cum rained down upon her tear-streaked face, he saw her crying at the perversion that had led her to allow her own flesh and blood to thrust so furiously between the hanging, bulging fuck udders on her tanned chest. He imagined a look in her eyes that was far from normalcy- a look of shame, a look that said she would never tell anyone about the act itself, and especially not about how much she had enjoyed it, and the furious orgasms that had rattled through her pelvis as she felt the gooey rain of Ashley’s ejaculations upon her lips, cheeks, and nose.

“Come on, you sick little fuck!” Lorelai gasped, upper body leaning and recoiling with his cock-thrusts. “Cum on my face!”

“Aaaaaaaaaaagh!” screamed Ashley, and Lorelai opened her mouth as the first thick, white rope of boysperm exploded from the head of his cock and arced over her face, splattering onto her forehead and trailing downward, over her lips, leaving a drooping white bridge between her upper and lower teeth, and ending on her chin. Then a second shot rocketed right into her mouth, splashing down on her tongue like a wet guided missile. He could see the filmy whiteness of his jizz beginning to coat and hang from the pink insides of her mouth, glossing her tongue and teeth.

“Ugh!” He clenched his sphincter muscle and fired a third jet, the thickest yet- a long, colloidal worm of perfect, white semen. It splashed over area below Lorelai’s nose, piling up there in a bubbly pile, before spilling down over her upper lip and into her mouth. Ashley stumbled forward, and was caught- Lorelai’s head pressed into his abdomen, his splasming cock firing shorter, watery spurts of cum onto her meaty tits. Ashley collapsed to his knees. Lorelai looked him in the eyes, and as he watched, she collected the stray strands of his cum from her face, using her long fingers, and brought them to her mouth, licking each one clean with slutty, cum-queen zeal. Her long, pink tongue made it’s way around her lips, cleaning them.

Then, she opened her mouth. A reservoir of his cum had gathered there, staining the bottom of her mouth with irregular whiteness. Even in the semi-blackness of the cafeteria, Ashley could see how some areas of the cumload were watery and others were thick, almost clumped up. This made it seem all the more real, all the more nasty. The knowledge that she was accepting his cum inside of her, this angel, as he had accepted her fantasies, her ideas inside of him, lent the entire experience an intimacy greater than any he could remember. She closed her mouth. He could hear her swallow. When she opened it again, he saw nothing but pink.

In the dim light, they regarded each other, breathing hard. Lorelai ran a hand through his sweaty hair, tucking it behind his ear, exposing his smooth, youthful face. “How do you feel?” she asked. Her voice was the devil’s own. At first, Ashley didn’t know how to respond. Then, he ventured some words.

“Good. I mean…that was-“

But Lorelai put a finger to his lips. “No,” she said. She moved her lips to his ear. “How do you feel?” She moved her lips to his mouth, brushing her pretty, perfect skin over his, never quite kissing him, but always mere millimeters away. He could see the beauty mark just below her bottom lip, looming beautiful and immaculate in the electric residual light.

“Bad,” he said. “Guilty.”

“Yes.

“Ashamed.”

“Yes,” Lorelai said again, and lifted one arm. She held her wrist before Ashley’s face- there was a glimmer of gold, and he could see a charm bracelet there. From the charm bracelet hung a gold crucifix. “I understand guilt. And shame. I learned my lessons well.”

They both stood up then, and Lorelai drew Ashley closer, turning him around and embracing him, the top of his head tucked underneath her chin. He could feel her arms around him, and yet he let his hang limply at his sides, overwhelmed. He could feel the warmth of her tits pressed against his back, and the slickness of his own cum as it washed down to stain the nipples that were poking into his shoulder blades like soft fingertips.

She whispered to him then. “You’ve got to hide your love away,” she said, “because sex is not about freedom and inhibition, like your mother thinks. It’s about guilt, and pain, and dark compulsions that can’t be denied. It’s about nasty, wet, shameful things done behind closed doors. The day that all taboos are gone, sex becomes just two sacks of meat slamming into each other.”

She hugged him tight. And then, suddenly, he heard a squirming, like a handful of mud being squeezed. Abruptly the just-pubescent boy felt a wet, dripping heat pressing against the small of his back. His eyes flew open, but he couldn’t bring himself to scream. His mouth simply opened. Then closed again.

Ashley shut his eyes and looked down at the floor.

“Will you come back to my room?” asked Lorelai. “And show me those secrets you’ve kept?”

Ashley reached up to place one of his hands on Lorelai’s. “Yes,” he whispered, sweat trickling down one hairless, sun-bronzed cheek. “God, yes.”


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A short, nightgown-wearing figure watched as the blonde woman walked down the hall, arm in arm with the young boy. She crept to one of the side halls to watch them pass, ducking behind a drinking fountain to observe the two of them venture off to a corner of the compound that was unfamiliar.

Were they going to the young blonde’s room? That woman and...her brother?

April Wilder blew air out of her nose in a huff. She didn’t like what she had seen- and could not put a finger on why. Poking her head around the corner and into the cafeteria as she had been, she couldn’t overhear what was being said between her brother and the woman- but she could look at faces, and what she had seen was frightening.

Long ago, she had read on one occasion a book, Fly Freddy Fly, about a group of funny cartoon flies who had teamed up to defeat a spider than was spinning webs around their neighborhood. It had been a fairly typical children’s book, and she had since quit reading such fare, preferring instead to peruse her mother’s seemingly endless collection of trashy romance novels, the covers of which were always plastered with embossed images of bare-chested men.

One thing April had not forgotten, though, was the way the villain in the book, the spider, had been drawn. In one chapter, it had tried using guile to lure one of Freddy’s friends into the web, luring him in with treats and promises- and it had worked. Freddy had had to come to the rescue of the poor fly. April could still remember the cartoon grin of the spider as it cajoled and flattered, all the while thinking of how tasty the hapless fly would be.

That memory had come back to her in watching the blonde woman interact with her brother. That hungry, cartoon spider face. April ran her hands down the front of her nightgown nervously. She felt powerless, out of control. In the book, Freddy the Fly had gone to the rescue.

But what could she do?

“That was a book,” she said to herself. “A dumb one, too. This is real life.”

It sure was. Not quite knowing why, she began to walk towards Mikura’s room. Part of her wondered why, in need of advice and comfort, she was not headed back to her own room, her own mother. The basest part of her, the instinctive part- didn’t ask. It simply knew that Mikura’s room was where she wanted to go.

And so April did.


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They two of them were seated in front of a large mirror, with three large, dazzling lights poised above, lights designed to help spot blemished and incorrectly applied makeup. Ashley could feel her long, beautiful legs wrapped around him, could feel the weight of her heavy tits pressing against his back. He could feel her sweet breath on the back of his neck.

She had given him a glass of burning liquid, the rough alcohol that his mother would have never allowed him (though she had given him a sip of beer or two) and big him swallow it down. When he did, she followed it with a second. Though he had thought for a moment that he might throw up, so strange and disorienting was the taste, his stomach had eventually settled, and he had allowed himself to be led over to the mirrored nook by the bathroom, where they had sat, he in front of she, sharing a soft, velvet cushion.

His eyes were closed, per her instructions. He could feel oily moistness of a tube being pressed across first his lower lip, then his upper- he could identify the sensation as that of having his lips glossed, though he had never had it done before. The smell of cosmetics was thick in the air.

“Smack your lips together,” came the instruction. He did so, feeling a heavy and deliciously clinging sensation. He felt a small brush begin to dust lightly over his eyelids. At the same time, Lorelai reached around and into his crotch to wrap her free hand around Ashley’s rock hard, hairless cock.

“Open your eyes,” she asked, and he could not bring himself to disobey any order she might give, this angel of his, even if he might want to. He opened his eyes and saw his own face in the mirror. His lips were a shiny, glossy blue- a mermaid’s lips. His mouth was hanging ever so slightly open, allowing those puffy, indigo lips to contrast with his perfect white teeth. His eyelids were dusted lightly with sparking blue powder- it glittered in the light. His eyes, already a perfect blue and ringed with dark eyeliner, added to the look, the face of a princess on a young and lean body, sexless, smooth, tanned, toned, and eminently fuckable.

“Stay very still,” Lorelai cautioned, bringing a mascara applicator up to his eye level. With practiced strokes, she lengthened his already-long eyelashes with a light blue color, working outward from the base to the tips, top and bottom.

She capped the mascara when her work was done, and then stood. Wobbling a little, Ashley rose as well, still cognizant of the feeling of her warm hand on his cock. His vision was a little blurry, but what he saw looking back at him in the mirror was not a face he recognized, it was the face of a weary and beleaguered angle, blue-tinted and robbed of innocence, fallen from heaven.

She stepped away from him then, and when she returned he felt the brush of soft fabric around his ankles. Gently, she lifted first one lean, tanned leg and then the other, slipping a garment onto his lower body. When she began to pull it up, he could see in the mirror what it was- a cute, light-blue pair of see-through lacy panties with a small bow on the middle front of the waistband. They fit perfectly over his boyish body- he could feel the front of the soft, perforated material slide stretch hotly over his erect boy-cock, and the rear of it stretch over the tanned, lean shanks of his butt. Seen from the rear, no one in the world would have guessed he was male.

The final touch came when Lorelai left and returned a second time, and bid him put on the last piece of the dress-up puzzle. A tiny, lacy harness bra of blue bows and straps. Attached to the back were a pair of feathery, indigo-colored angel wings.

“Put this on,” she had said, and so he did, one arm at a time, feeling the feathery material fall into place over his nipples, head spinning with the effects of alcohol and the sexual tension that threatened to overcome him. Ashley could barely think, but what thoughts he did have were along the lines of ecstasy and fear- an idea that he might explode if not given release.

With the wings in place, Lorelai dimmed the makeup lights, leaving them in the normal half-illumination of her room.

“Fallen angel,” she whispered in his ear. Her tongue snaked seductively down the side of his face. “Look at yourself. Look at how beautiful you are.”

Ashley looked in the mirror. Staring back at him, wet-eyed and beautiful, was the vision of an angel, androgynous and perfect. A taut, nubile body, ribs barely showing, feathery wings extending behind to either side, non-existant tits shielded by a lacy bra stretched over a flat, smooth chest. The face of the angel was feminine and seductive- blue lips shining and moist, slightly parted to reveal teeth as white as pearls, beautiful blue eyes glistening with burgeoning tears, framed by elegant shadows and sparkles, eyelashes luxurious and long. Dirty blonde hair, highlights shining in the half-light, cascaded down both sides of the angel’s sad, pretty head, stopping at the thin and shapely neck that lead to smooth little shoulders.

Lower still, the angel’s sex was covered by naughty, translucent underwear- a garment too tight and small to hide the only hint of maleness in the entire reflected image…a long and hairless cock, hard and slick, tip pushing the front of the panties into an irregular shape, raising the bow at the waistband an inch or more away from the flat surface of the angel’s midsection.

Ashley was speechless. Mindless. He could only feel. Lorelai ran a hand over his midsection, caressing the flat, tanned expanse of flesh there. She looked down at him. Her face, he saw, was a mask of lust.

“Little girl angel, get on your knees,” she said. It was not a request.

He did so, not kneeling carefully but collapsing, legs not sturdily placed hunder him but splayed to either side. Ashley’s knees knocked together and he looked up at Lorelai, obedient and awestruck. She had stripped off her panties, and the wet, inviting folds of her impossibly pink cunt were poised above his angelic face, seeming to invite the touch of his perfect, indigo mouth.

Then came the muddy, liquid sound. He could see through half-lidded, drunkard eyes the unspeakably nasty image of her cunt widening, the lips stretching to the side to allow the passage of a fat, drooling cock- a long and hard flesh tube from within her body. It emerged from her Lorelai’s sexy slit and grew to a length of perhaps twelve inches- and Ashley knew, from the way that her gut roiled and churned, that it could grow longer.

The head of the fat, lube-coated cock dangled inches from Ashley’s doll-like lips. He could see drips of semi-clear fluid burbling from the twitching head of Lorelai’s mutant meat.

“Open your mouth,” she said, and the indigo angel could not help but obey, opening wide, eyes dull with resignation but still a dazzling blue. When Lorelai moved forward, Ashley felt the fat, superheated length of her girldick jam into his pretty mouth, stretching the glossy lips wide. His tongue, a perfect, pink duplicate of his sister’s, was jammed downward by the invading cock. Lorelai began to slowly thrust forward and backward, enjoying the sensation as her prick sloshed in the slick and tight confines of Ashley’s teenage face.

“Your little mouth is hot and tight,” Lorelai gasped, running a hand through the blonde hair of the figure below her. “You’re a perfect little princess, there’s not a man in the world who wouldn’t want to fuck you, Ashley.” She ran a hand down Ashley’s face, admiring the way his eyes were distant, dazzling- the blue of oceans and skies. Her open hand turned into a grip, snatching the hair on top of his head, and using it to draw Ashley’s face forward and backward as she humped the first few inches of her fat futanari cock into his mouth.

Lorelai enjoyed the sight as the thickness of her tool battered Ashley’s tongue, billowing his soft cheeks outward, sliding slickly against the wet roof of his mouth and depressing his tongue against the bottom of it. She felt a spurt of precum gurgle from the head of her cock, and knew that the 13-year-old, androgynous angel-boy had just received his first taste of girlsperm.

She withdrew abruptly. Ashley lurched forward slightly, breathing hard. His glossed, indigo lips were glistening with a layer of spit and cum. “Don’t make me do all the work, angel,” she hissed. “Move that sexy body of yours. Go down on me.”

Ashley drew in a hot little breath and moved forward, licking the length of Lorelai’s shaft with his pink tongue, kissing gently on the underside of her cock. He reached one thin-fingered hand up to guide her cock back into his mouth, and Lorelai noted with some satisfaction that even Ashley’s hands were girl-like- smooth-skinned and elegant. Then she could only stand and enjoy the sensation as the indigo angel at her feet sucked, gurgled and choked enthusiastically on her jutting she-cock, making up for inexperience with passionate effort.

“That’s it, princess,” Lorelai cooed. “Use your pretty mouth on my dick.” Ashley didn’t disappoint her, straining to stuff as much of her pulsating, spit-shiny dong into his mouth as was possible. Sweat dotted the tanned perfection of his skin as his angelic body oscillated forward in a sexy, loving throatfuck performance. The angel wings on his back jittered with a sound like rustling bushes. The panties he wore were wrapped tight around his plump little ass, a sight Lorelai found to be unspeakably erotic. Were any observer to look at the scene from behind, they would have immediately come to the conclusion that Ashley was, in fact, his twin sister.

Lorelai felt a small orgasm thrum her cock like a tuning fork, and Ashley felt a wet glob of slime erupt from the fleshy cock in his mouth and paint the inside of his cheek. He removed his head from Lorelai’s dick and then closed his eyes, opening his little blue-glossed mouth in a classic “come on my face!” expression. It was adorable, the face of a concubine, painted, youthful, and unspeakably sexy.

“Ah!” he gasped, as Lorelai’s prick spewed forth another greasy, sperm-laden dollop of bubbling fuck cream, this one splattering his immaculate cheek, painting his tanned skin with white wetness.

“Fuck!” seethed Lorelai, holding her prick with one hand as it blasted a high velocity cumshot that was more conical splatter than stream, dotting Ashley’s cute face with white droplets and globules. “You hot little bitch!”

Ashley was breathing hard, his skin a sheen of sweat and cum. Lorelai, likewise, was puffing slightly, her cock a mishmash of pleasurable twitches and sensations, the slow, deep breaths in her chest causing her large, pale breasts to rise and fall. Her fat nipples were twin towers of pink, blood-engorged flesh.

Doe-eyed, Ashley leaned forward and placed the tip of Lorelai’s jizz-drooling dick in his mouth, shiny lips stretching around the fleshy head. Softly, gently, looking in Lorelai’s eyes, he began to clean it, sucking gently, flicking his tongue into the pisshole. Ashley’s face and hair were dotted with cum bubbles. His eyes were scary in their lust and emptiness.

Lorelai reached down and grabbed a handful of Ashley’s blonde hair. “Get over to the bed,” she said. Ashley rose, and Lorelai guided him down to the bed, face first. She could see the tight, sexy roundness of Ashley’s little ass stretching the borrowed panties she herself had dressed him in. Despite the minor orgasm, her cock was still rock hard, and half contained within the churning confines of her own wet, spasming cunt.

“Ok, ass angel,” she said, words dripping with leering lust, “show me where you want my big cock to hurt you.”

In a pose most likely borrowed from his mother, who was an expert in such things, Ashley arched his flexible, lithe back, thrust his tight little butt up into the air, knees together, and slowly pulled down the little blue panties that had been cradling his teenage buttmeat, revealing a pink, perfect asshole. The faux-feathers of his indigo angel wings fluttered naughtily.

“Slutty little angel,” Lorelai spat. “You should be ashamed of yourself, you dirty boywhore.” She approached him. Ashley did not look away, blue eyes wide, his barely-teenage, unisex body trembling in anticipation.


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When April knocked on Mikura’s door, it swung open, unlatched. It took only a short glance around the room (which she had visited before, for cookies, gingerbread men, and grape juice, not to mention the sexually-charged nipple-suck) for the young girl to register that something unusual was going on. Glasses were out on the table next to half-full bottles of what April could tell were alcoholic drinks. Cigarettes were still smoldering in an ashtray by the couch- and there was a smell in the air. The smell of sex.

The young girl, slightly aroused but still worried about her brother, crept toward the bedroom, and heard the rustling of movement and the wet, sweaty exhalations of intercourse of some kind. Abruptly, the bedroom door opened, and Sarah Marks stumbled out into the living area, glasses fogged, perky tits bare, wearing nothing but a pair of red panties that hung loosely about her cunt. April could tell that someone had pushed the fabric to the side and given her a rough fucking- she had seen the same phenomenon with her mother’s undergarments on many occasions.

In Sarah’s left hand was a shallow drinking glass, filled with some sort of booze that April couldn’t identify. In her right hand, held between her cute, pale fingers, were three loaded, dangling yellow condoms. The reservoir tips of all three condoms were stretched obscenely with swirling loads of white, gooey liquid.

“Hey there!” said Sarah, her voice warbling and tipsy. Before she could fall down, she leaned against the wall. The sounds of furious fucking in the adjacent bedroom had only intensified. “Noah called me over here, and well, one thing sorta led to another.” Sarah looked up at April.

“Want to join us?”

April *did* want to join in whatever was going on, the feelings in her hot little slit were beginning to become hard to ignore- the room was very, very hot, and something about the way the reservoir tips of the condoms were swaying, fat and pendulous, between Sarah’s fingers told her this situation was one that she shouldn’t miss. But still…she had to find someone who might help her with Ashley- an adult, or maybe just an older person, someone fearless.

This room had been no help, and there was only one room left that was certain to have people in it. Setsume’s room. Would Miss Setsume help her? There was only one way to find out.

“No,” she said. “I’m sorry, Miss Sarah, but I have to be going.”

As Sarah watched April scamper out of the room, nightgown fluttering, she upended one of the condoms over her glistening tongue, savoring the feeling of the slimy contents pouring into her mouth. With a two quick swallows, she sent both the contents of the condom and the remains of her drink down into her stomach.

“Guess that means more for me.”


===================================================


While sliding the head of her thick prick up and down the sexy valley of Ashley’s hairless, bronze-skinned asscrack, Lorelai reached underneath her little slut angel and stroked slowly at the rock-hard cock there, savoring the feeling as pre-cum bubbled out of the tip and onto her finger.

She forced herself forward slightly, but Ashley’s asshole was too tight- she only succeeded in forcing her hot teenaged concubine’s dolled-up face down into the rumpled bedspread.

“Your ass is so tight!” she purred, predatory. “Come on, little angel, open yourself up for me. Arch your back and present your sexy, oh-so-fuckable ass.

Ashley attempted to do so, thrusting his toned boy-butt up into the air, pulling apart the fleshy cheeks, bracing his neck against the bed even as he looked back, eyes innocent and wide, through his own legs. The panties Lorelai had put on him were still wrapped around one smooth thigh. The blonde cock-queen pressed down, hard, and he felt himself open up.

“Auuugh!” The scream was out of Ashley’s mouth before he even realized it had been there. Lorelai watched with satisfaction as the head of her thick she-cock pummeled through the tight, pink ring of Ashley’s angelic shit chute and lodged in his rectum- a fleshy meat staff emerging from between two bronze loaves of taut, barely-teen ass.

Lorelai began to inchworm forward, using tiny little thrusts, vibrating her dick in Ashley’s stretched butt. It was so tight, she thought the head of her cock was going to pop off. The wet, squelching sounds of his protesting anus were music to her ears, and so she kept up the assault, feeling the walls of his jittering, quaking ass-canal massage the sides of her dick in an unparalleled frenzy of sensation.

“How do you like the feeling of being stretched out by a thick cock?” Lorelai asked, thrusting. “You must love it. Remember how you feel right now, with all this girlmeat stuffed in your sexy little butt. This is your secret. The only way to kill this pleasure is to make it normal.”

Lorelai shoved forward. Two more inches of her cock- thicker inches- slimed their way into Ashley’s meat-packed butt. “But that won’t ever happen, will it, lover?” she continued. Ashley’s only response was to squeak meekly into the bedcovers. He had them clenched between his teeth.

Lorelai stepped up onto both feet on the bed, then, hovering over Ashley’s distended asshole, thrust out her own ass as she plunged her cock into the boy’s exposed butt. She bent over him, grabbing him by the hips, bending her knees, plowing into Ashley’s upraised ass in a hardcore doggystyle fuck. A person looking at the scene from behind would have been privy to the majestic sight of Lorelai’s own perfectly formed bubble-ass, like two sexy half-moons framing her tight asshole, flexing and working as she drove her butt-slimed cock down into the tiny hole of her personal ass angel.

“Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!” she exclaimed, gasping in rhythm as she drilled down into her butt boy’s supernaturally tight asshole, packing his tanned-geisha, Thai sex tour body with inch after inch of futanari femme flesh. The rustle of angel feathers was lewd and papery, and Ashley’s whimpers and cries were muffled by the sheets. Lorelai drove in six inches, then seven. She could feel the spasming walls of Ashley’s rectum grasping at her dick, massaging it with intimate warmth. The blonde teen began to relentlessly jackhammer her younger playtoy, pulling all but the head out of his stretched hole and then ramming seven or eight inches back into his hot, lithe body.

After a full minute of soul-shattering assfuckery, during which Ashley’s squeaks and exhalations filled the room (while Lorelai filled his ass), the blonde decided to switching things up.

“Come here!” she said, breaking her rhythm. Moving off to the side of the bed in order to get her feet on solid ground, she turned Ashley over, keeping the head of her dick in his ass. The angel wings crumpled against the bedspread. Using two toned arms, she pinned his shapely legs up so that his knees were perched around his shoulders, and then began to drill back into his butt. She could see that Ashley’s cock was erect and drooling white runner of precum down the side. Ashley’s eyes grew wide, and Lorelai clamped her teeth together in furious, predatory smile.

She reached the eight inch mark, and then surged powerfully forward, burying another two inches immediately as Ashley’s blue-lipped, cum-slick mouth sprang wordlessly open. There was a sound from within him like someone opening a pull-stop drain in a full sink basin. Lorelai, noticing that Ashley was unconsciously holding up his own legs, switched to a tight grip around his waist and rammed forward, sending the young boy’s hairless sack jiggling. She felt every muscle in his body tense as she buried another two inches of her cock.

Spittle flew from the boy’s mouth, his face stretched, lips trembling. The pupils of his eyes seemed to vibrate rapidly in and out, fluttering in a sort of fucked-out seizure. Below the blood-engorged length of his cock and his hairless balls, his tanned, girlish asscheeks were busted wide open by an unbelievable thickness of ice-queen dickflesh. His ass was an explosion of pain and pleasure. Ashley could no longer think, no longer feel anything besides the haze of pain and orgasmic euphoria emanating form the very core of his lower body.

“Going to break you in half!” Lorelai seethed, and thrust forward again, fleshy tits bouncing against her perfect frame, blonde hair waving about her head. A considerable length of her cock surged into the dick princess below her- five inches or more- and they heard and felt things rearranging inside of the boy. There were sick, pregnant gurgling noises, ominous intestinal burbles and even the pressurized pop of creaking bone. Ashley dry heaved, and his body exploded in a massive seizure of clenched muscles. His eyes were wide, disbelieving. He mouthed words, and barely-human thoughts ripped through his head.

What are you doing to me? What are you doing to me? I’ll die!

But no sound issued forth from his diaphragm. His body suddenly felt too small for all that was packed inside of it. At the same time, cum erupted from his spasming cock, blasting through the air, over the slight downslope, and into his own pretty, makeup-dusted face, wetting his lengthened eyelashes, splashing over his lips and even spurting into his own stricken, wide-open mouth. His little ass was a clamp on fifteen inches of Lorelai’s rutting, drilling girlcock. Ashley heard her scream, and in in his last extremity knew that he was about to burn the memory of her orgasm into his mind.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaugh!” Lorelai screamed, and felt the length of her dick, as well as her entire lower body, explode in an unparalled, earth-shaking orgasm. The tightness of her angel’s ass was unbelievable, and as a result she’d cum hard, harder than she had in months or years- she could actually feel her dick vibrate as a torrent of girlsperm washed, floodlike, up the fat pipe of her mutant cock.

The sound was indescribable- a thick, syrupy blurt, like someone turning the valve on a spigot filled with slime. Ashley, every nerve on edge, felt a ghastly, sickening pressure as a spray of hot sperm flooded into his colon. Within seconds, a nasty ass-gurgle ripped through the air, and a white spray of dripping semen erupted from the tight seal of Ashley’s dick-packed asshole, staining Lorelai’s thighs and the bedcover. The boy’s ass was so full that the trapped jizz, glue-like and thick, was spurting out.

Still, Lorelai continued to come, hosing down the inside of her young angel’s slick little body. Ashley’s eyes rolled back into his head, and Lorelai saw the tanned flatness of his midsection tremble and bulge briefly as his insides were rearranged by the influx of fluid. Lorelai felt her orgasm begin to subside, and she collapsed forward, gasping, onto the tiny body of her girlish partner, feeling sweat mingle with sweat, the caress of his hot flesh against her own, and the bubbling heat of his asshole still massaging her spent cock.


====================================================


April felt safer now as she walked the halls, even with the late hour- for she had company. Maybe not Miss Mikura, who had been her first choice, but Mikura had been obviously busy, and April could not bring herself to interrupt the fun of such a nice lady. So she had gone to find another “adult”, or at least someone who acted like one. Miss Setsume.

Setsume, as it turned out, had been asleep- but she hadn’t seemed bothered by April’s simple request- that they find her brother and make sure that he was ok and not being taken advantage of or otherwise hurt. Setsume had agreed to do this, partly because she was curious as to who this mystery woman was, and partly because she had, long ago, decided to take a personal interest in the happiness of all of the FLESH PROJECT members.

That was how, at a very late hour, the two girls found themselves heading into an unfamiliar wing of the facility, in search of any conspicuous room.

“Are you sure this is the way she went?” Setsume asked April. The young girl was still wearing her adorable nightgown. Setsume, for her part, was wearing a black sports bra and her black jogging pants, which were comfortable to sleep in and didn’t cut off her circulation if she happened to wake up with morning wood.

“Yes- this is the way,” April replied. The look of determination and concern on her face was precious. Setsume was about to open her mouth to say they should try listening at the doors when they heard the unmistakable murmur of a female voice, and crept toward the door from which it had come.

From inside, they could hear gasps, throaty words- and possibly the sounds of “activity”.

Setsume looked at April, and whispered to her. “Are you sure you want to do this? Your brother could be having a very good time in there.”

April was firm. “You didn’t see the look on this lady’s face,” she said. “She wants to be mean to him, I could tell.”

And so, Setsume crept closer and tried the handle. To her surprise, it moved smoothly in her hand. Again, she looked back at April.

“Open it!” hissed the girl, eyes wide with concern.

Setsume did so- and it the scene they saw when they did open it was unbelievable.

Ashley and Lorelai were standing in front of a couch in the main room. The bedroom door was open, the sheets rumpled. The smell of sex was in the air. But none of that was what the two intruders noticed. They noticed that Ashley was dressed in a tight, lacy bra with a pair of crumpled, bent angel’s wings attached. There were long black eyeliner streaks- black tears- running down both sides of his face. His lips were painted a smeared, glossy indigo. He was crumpled on his knees, a subservient and beautiful shattered angel, soaked blue panties wrapped around one thigh like an obscene wedding garter.

Lorelai was showering Ashley’s face with an long, fat arc of golden piss from the bloated end of her girl-cock. The boy had his tongue outstretched, and even with his face cast down toward the ground in shame, the acrid fluid was washing over it in waves, soaking his body that was a twin of the one gaping from the doorway.

Setsume locked eyes with the ice-blonde dickgirl across the room, and her heart skipped a beat as her face tightened with recognition. In fact, the 16-year-old thought her heart might never beat again.

“You!” she exclaimed.

“Brother!” exclaimed April.

Ashley turned his head slowly toward her. “Sister,” he burbled, and then collapsed on his side. As April looked on, Ashley’s asshole seemed to bulge, and a fat fountain of glue-like, bubbling sperm erupted forth, staining his trim, lean thighs with the nasty whiteness of what had been fucked into him.

April screamed. Lorelai laughed. And then the hallway was filled with the clatter of heavy-booted security footsteps.

===

SCAR TISSUE

As Setsume lay on the bed, ice-pack clutched in place over one throbbing wrist, the look on her face was one of dejection and fatigue. Her normally pretty features, the thin nose, full lips and smooth skin upon which she secretly prided herself, were locked in a scowl that threatened to wear the paint off of the adjacent wall. She was sprawled on her side, one hot cheek pressed into the linens, hair splayed out behind her, unconstrained by pigtails or anything else. She had not felt like doing anything with it since her return from the security office.

She rubbed her sore wrist experimentally. A guard, the squat one with big hands that they called “Fatso”, had grabbed her by the arm. Hard. Now, it was throbbing like an impacted tooth. Even with her mind whirling with scenarios and memories, she couldn’t drown the persistent ache. Presently her well-proportioned, pajama-clad body hitched with a sigh. Her cock was a long, hot tube against the inside of her thigh. She shifted slightly- the restless movement of an uncomfortable hospital patient. Then Setsume felt the other side of the mattress press down with the weight of a new occupant- and knew it was Lola.

Setsume continued to stare at the wall as Lola’s compact, sexy body shimmied up against her back in an adorable wiggle, locking arms around her waist.

“I was so worried about you,” whispered the dark-haired girl. Setsume continued to stare at the wall, the condensation-slick ice pack draped over her thin wrist. “What happened?” Lola continued.

What happened? Setsume thought. I don’t know. I don’t understand any of this. And on the heels of that, the mental image of the ice-blonde bitch from across the room, mouth wide in a careless laugh.

Why is she here? How could she be here? I never wanted to see her again.

The guards had arrived just in time- they had been watching, of course, following the movements of everyone involved via the security cameras- and someone had given the order to intercede when things had started to get heated. Setsume could see the scene in her mind, it was as clear as a bell, even after 12 hours and a dose of sedative in the cold, anti-septic medical holding area.

April had watched her brother fall on his side, cloudy sperm bubbling out of his little asshole, into a puddle of the piss he’d be showered with. Without thinking, only feeling, the young girl had run to Ashley- dropped to her knees on the damp carpet, embracing him even as the acrid urine coating his youthful body had started to soak through her flimsy nightdress. Setsume had not seen the tears in her eyes- had no needed to. She could hear them in April’s voice. And yet, even as her heart went out to April, all Setsume could think about was the blonde on the other side of the room.

Her. Lorelai. She had filled out, grown up- but the light blue eyes hadn’t changed, and neither had the cruel smile. Even if her body was fuller and her tits were bigger, she was still the same terrible, terrible bitch- the same vindictive whore that Setsume had known. Of this, the young dickgirl had no doubt- the nasty timbre of the laugh was the same, the horrible whiteness of her teeth perfectly reminiscent of the last time Setsume had seen her, a time when Lorelai had been leering over her as she lay, crumpled, in a bathroom stall.

“Hello, Setsume,” Lorelai had said, standing naked and statuesque in the dim light of her room. Her hourglass figure cut a striking pose in front of her wall, a tower of soft and sexy white flesh, tits jutting, sweat glistening on a tight and flat midsection. Setsume had registered the fact that Lorelai had achieved, in her later teenage years, a dark, icy beauty the likes of which few had ever seen, but the thought was buried in pain, surprise, and fear, the sort of stomach churning jolt one feels when a childhood bogeyman returns with a vengeance.

Lorelai’s cock hung enormous- a fat and thick flesh pipe curving nastily down from the hot folds of her cunt, the base emerging from her glistening slit like some prehistoric and unimaginable snake, pisshole twitching as the last drops of acrid liquid were forced into the open air. Setsume wondered if the cock dangling between the blonde’s legs was bigger than hers, but she had no way of knowing, and she wasn’t going to find out, didn’t care to find out.

“You fucking bitch,” was all she could say. “What are you doing here?” Setsume was barely aware of the footsteps of a guard entering the room to stand nearby.

“I just figured I’d come and pay you a visit,” said Lorelai. “Maybe check to see if you’ve still got that nasty thing hanging between your legs.” Lorelai stroked her own cock with one teasing finger.

Setsume had been furious. “You sick cunt,” she seethed, “if you come anywhere near me, I’m going to kill you.” She had hardly been able to believe the ferocity of her own words, but they were true- given the chance, she would have gleefully choked the blonde girl until she was simply a limp sack of lifeless flesh.

Lorelai offered only a taunting smile, which Setsume remembered had been a specialty of hers. “That’s ok- I’ll wait until you’ve cooled off before I come to see you. Meanwhile,” she said, looking at Ashley with significance Setsume couldn’t miss, “I’m sure I’ll have plenty of playmates to keep my attention.”

That had started Setsume moving forward, with bad intentions. She could see herself winding up one long, lean arm and punching it forward, sending a fist rocketing at Lorelai’s face, burying that fucking smile in an avalanche of shattered teeth. Lorelai’s grin, in turn turned to a sneer- and the sight of her naked body tensing for a fight was an unparalleled phenomenon of slick, tight muscles and jiggling flesh. Her hands became claws, ready to take Setsume’s eyes out of her head. Abruptly, though, Setsume had been jerked back by her wrist, and not gently.

She could remember feeling so frustrated, so terribly angry at the injustice of it all- this guard holding her back from throwing a punch that had been three years in the making. She had swung her other arm, forearm out, into the black glass of his faceplate, rattling it hard- and that had been when Fatso had stopped trying to hold her back by an arm and detained her full force- bending her wrist behind her and slamming her chest-first into the ground. She could peel her tits being crushed into the floor.

“Fuck you!” she had yelled, voice strained. “Get the fuck off of me!” From the corner of her eye, she could see a flutter of movement, and her ears could detect the eager whapping of cute little fists pounding against a kevlar vest. April’s fists.

“You let her go!” came the tiny voice. “Get off of Miss Setsume!” As Fatso moved an arm out to push April away, Setsume shifted under him and turned, pushing her long, powerful legs against his chest and shoving mightily with her feet, trying to do something, anything to get free…but it was no use. The man had moved back maybe three inches, then was right back down on her again, pinning her arms, trying to stop her movement. In the midst of her panic, she realized that “Fatso” was probably poor description for this guard. His body seemed thick with corded muscle, and he probably outweighed her by as much as 150 pounds.

“You stop it! Stop it!”

April again.

Setsume was absurdly touched when the thin 13 year old girl jumped on the guard’s back, wrapping her bronze arms around his neck- but the feeling was fleeting in the face of so much panic. She could see that April’s nightgown had been pulled up around her legs, revealing her smooth slit and the tightness of her little ass- and that was when the 16-year-old felt the guard go for his tazer. She had heard the crackle of electricity in her mind’s eye. In the worst place of her imagination, she saw April being jolted by a terrible shock, her blue eyes wide with horror at the sensation, her teeth snapping convulsively shut, ripping off the point of her pink tongue…

Setsume went limp at once, trying to use her body language to tell the guard it was over- not to go any further.

“Don’t!” she had yelled, tears welling in her eyes, begging herself not to cry, telling herself to do anything, say anything…just don't cry. Not in front of her.

The guard peeled April off of himself like the girl was nothing, plunking her down on the ground next to Setsume. And Lorelai was laughing. Laughing.

The guard spoke up- his voice was thick and angry behind his mask. “You two, don’t fucking move! Or I will take this,” he said, brandishing his tazer at April, “and shove it up this little bitch’s cunt. I am through fucking around.” His voice was the rumble of an angry jarhead, the sort of man who made foul threats of that type part of his business.

“I’d like to see that,” Lorelai joked from her position at the back of the room. The guard spun on her at once, pointing an authoritative finger.

“You, shut the fuck up!” he yelled. And amazingly, Lorelai did shut up, still smiling, holding up her hands like a soccer player feigning innocence after a dirty tackle.

A second guard entered the room then- Blondie. From her position on the floor, Setsume could see the ends of his blonde hair poking out of the back of his helmet. “What the hell is going on in here?” the new arrival had said, voice muffled.

Fatso seemed to look at him wearily. “These two bitches were about to kill each other.”

And then they had been brought to their feet, and marched down to the security office. Setsume could still hear April’s cries for her brother. Ashley had not moved, only turned his head to watch them go- eyes tired and blank. April had burst into tears. Setsume had willed herself not to cry, not to give Lorelai the satisfaction.

With the wails of the smaller girl echoing in her ears, she had felt so powerless. So hopeless. So afraid.

As Setsume thought about these events, turning them over in her mind, Lola ruffled a soft hand through Setsume’s hair, moving her nose to the back of the younger girl’s head, smelling the shower smell of soap and freshness. Setsume had hopped into the shower after her unwilling stay in the infirmary. “Talk to me,” she said. “Please, don’t shut me out.”

Setsume seemed to think for a second. She shut her eyes. “You don’t want to know.”

Lola hugged her tight. “Yes I do. The question is...do you want to tell me?”

There was silence for a moment. In the background, so low that it could barely be heard, the radio was droning away. Both girls recognized the papery, all-treble sound as the voice of Johnny Cash.

When you reached the part where the heartaches come,
The hero would be me.
But heroes often fail,
And you won't read that book again
Because the ending's just too hard to take

“You know who originally wrote this?” asked Setsume, whispering. She knew Lola was a fan of Johnny Cash.

“I don’t remember,” Lola replied. And then, after more silence, she asked. “But I like it. How does the beginning go, again?”

Setsume was silent. She knew all too well.

If you could read my mind, love
What a tale my thoughts could tell


====================================================


Mikura rolled out of bed, head throbbing. She put one long-fingered hand to her forehead and rubbed the area between her eyes. She was a woman unaccustomed to hangovers, and the morning was treating her harshly indeed. A glance around the room revealed that the events of the previous night, which she could scarcely remember, had been climactic. The top of her dresser, normally spotless (and, the contents of the drawers sensibly organized, to boot), was covered with a number of empty drink glasses and booze bottles.

“Oh, goodness!” she exclaimed. There were three egg-shaped vibrators, surfaces filmy, piled at her feet- the electrical cords snaking vine-like between her toes. Each one was larger than the last. She looked back down at her bed, and saw that there was a massive 12-inch dildo laying on the mattress- she must have been sleeping right beside it. The blue plastic seemed to gaze guiltily at her.

Feeling a strange weight at her breasts, Mikura brought her own chest into focus. “Oh, dear!” she exclaimed again. There were smaller, egg-shaped vibrators attached to each of her fat, saucer-like nipples with yellow adhesive tape. She looked down past her breasts and saw that her panties were soaked and tugged to one side, enveloped in the thick flesh of her cunt. Absently, she reached behind herself and tugged the bunched fabric from the crack of her ass, spreading it over the bulbous buttflesh of her unbelievable rear.

“What did I get up to last night?” she said, worriedly. She raised a disapproving eyebrow at an empty box of condoms on the nightstand. Extra Large. She tried to run a hand through her hair and discovered that her usually well-groomed head was a tangle of sticky clumps.

Slowly, Mikura walked out of her room and into her bathroom, pausing to slip her feet into a comically large pair of “Hello Kitty!” slippers. No sooner had she closed the bathroom door behind her than she was forced to exclaim “Oh heavens!” again.

Sarah was sprawled face-first over the toilet bowl, leaning her weight on the porcelain. She was kneeling, arms limp, ring closed over the back of her neck. Her tight, thin ass was thrust out into the air, and “Piss Here!” had been written over the cheeks of her rear in black marker, with an accompanying arrow pointing to her cute little butthole. The handwriting was wobbly and haphazard. Mikura noticed that the offending marker, which she used to jot recipes on her refrigerator magnet board, was on top of the toilet tank.

Beside Sarah on the ground were two or three large, clear enema tube syringes, one of which was half-full with a cloudy yellowish-white liquid. The folds of Sarah’s pink cunt were exposed as well- and Mikura saw that there were two or three yellow condoms emerging from the depths of her slit, their open ends hanging lewdly downward. The older woman wondered idly if the condoms, and their respective sperm payloads, were intact inside Sarah, incubating hotly amidst the flesh of her snatch.

Mikura wrinkled her nose as she laboriously worked the tape off of her big, sensitive nipples, freeing them from the touch of the dormant vibrating eggs. She saw that Sarah’s hair was slick with water, and the back of the toilet bowl, from what Mikura could tell, was painted with an explosion of beige-colored vomit. “Oh dear,” she said again.

Emerging from the bathroom, she took a red bathrobe off of the door and put it on. The top half of the terrycloth garment was quickly filled to capacity by the weight of her stupendous chest, and the bottom bulged with the shapely outline of her round, jiggling ass. The belt cinched easily around her impossibly thin waist, and she walked out to the living room.

“Oh, goodness!” she exclaimed. Noah was laying flat on his back across the dining room table, snoring lightly. He was stark naked, his athletic body sprawled in a drape of taut, light muscle over the wood. Mikura saw with no real surprise that there was a large, translucent yellow condom on the end of his long cock- and the tip was fat with a thick reservoir of trapped semen. After gazing, dumbstruck, for a moment, the older woman clapped her hands over her eyes, her cheeks red with embarrassment.

Then she heard a *thump!* and spared a glance- Noah had rolled off the table groggily, and was shaking off the heavy weight of sleep from his new spot on the floor.

Mikura, in spite of her nervousness, jiggled her way over to him. Unconsciously, she straightened her hair as best she could.

“Mister Noah,” she said. “Are you alright?”

Noah only groaned. His head felt like a truckload of bowling balls that had fallen down a mountain, and then run into another truckload of bowling balls. He looked up at Mikura and saw only a blur- he was blind with sleep and the lack of his glasses. “Miss Mikura?”

She put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Come on,” she said. “I’ll make some coffee.” Noah’s response didn’t even have a vowel in it, but it was an affirmative. As he moved his hands over the floor, his hands stumbled upon the familiar waistband of his briefs. He stood up, collapsing his back against the stove with a clatter, and began to pull them on. When he reached a certain point, he noticed the condom dangling from his drooping wang and pulled it off.

“Oh, I can throw that out, if you like,” said Mikura.

Noah shook his head, and lifted a thumb in the direction of the bathroom. “I’d better hang on to it.”

Mikura nodded, and there was a moment of silence as she regarded the counter, eyeing a large bottle of wine that had been drained completely to the bottom. Mikura lowered her head and looked at the floor. “Mister Noah, I’m so embarrassed, I don’t usually get myself into such a state,” she said.

“It’s alright. Everyone should cut loose once in a while.” He paused before adding, “And you can just call me plain old Noah.”

Mikura put a fresh filter in the coffee maker, and saw Noah’s glasses on the counter. As she passed them over to the young man, she continued. “Did we…I mean- do you remember if we…”

She trailed off. The air was rich with the smell of coffee beans.

Noah put his glasses on, sliding them over his nose self-consciously. He couldn’t decide what he was embarrassed about, but it seemed like he should be embarrassed about something, even if he could barely remember it.

“No,” he said. “That is, we never…” and then he trailed off. He made eye contact with Mikura then, his brown eyes looking into her blue ones. “What I mean is, I never…did, you know, to you.” With his fingers, he made a gesture mimicking penetration. Both he and Mikura looked down to the floor. It was she who spoke up first.

“What did we do, then?”

Noah looked to the side, sheepish. “Well…Sarah was, in her usual way, directing traffic. With you, I used the…well, you know.” He made a hand gesture representing the large, blue dildo that Mikura had found on her mattress.

“Oh dear,” said Mikura. She could not seem to raise her eyes. Then she looked up at him, as if slightly alarmed that she had offended him somehow. “I mean…I don’t mind,” she added.

Again, there was silence. Noah and Mikura looked at each other. Mikura put a hand to the side of her mouth, and looked down at Noah’s crotch, then looked away again.

“Did I…” she began, and then stopped. Her face was a rush of blushing red. “Oh dear,” she said again.

Noah stepped slightly closer, and the two regarded each other in the light of the kitchen. “Yes,” he said, softly.

Mikura looked scandalized, and couldn’t meet his gaze. In the moment he saw her face closely, though, Noah could see that her eyes were the dull blue of an ocean at deep fathoms, large and gentle. “It’s ok,” he said.

“Was I…” she said, and trailed off. She crossed her arms over her ample chest. Her slippered foot, fuzzy and white, dug cutely at the floor, point downward.

“Yes,” Noah said. “It was wonderful.” In fact, she had been so proficient that it had been astounding. She had swallowed the nine inches of his cock with no gag reflex at all, and teased him with the wet tightness of her throat, tonguing his balls even has he was buried deep in her mouth, exhaling the heat of her breath on the firm flatness of his abdomen, gazing up at him with those beautiful eyes. And that had been while completely, falling-down drunk. He shuddered to think what she could do sober. She had devoured his generous prick like it was a walk in the park, a speed bump. He had come in her mouth, and she had swallowed every drop, presiding gently over his orgasm with softness and grace.

“Oh my goodness,” she said again. Noah couldn’t resist a smile- it was so cute. He looked over at the magnet calendar on Mikura’s fridge (bookended by placards with such polarized sentiments as “If You Wish To Grow Thinner, Cut Down On Your Dinner”) and then his interest crystallized. Yesterday’s date was marked with a large red star, under which was written the word “Jonathon”.

Suddenly, Noah thought he understood. An old boyfriend- maybe the one she had had to leave to come here. Their anniversary, perhaps. Harsh memories of the fights they had had, possibly about her condition and the unique nature of her body…the breakup that had probably happened because of it…

No wonder she had wanted to get drunk.

He moved closer to her and rubbed her shoulder. Mikura looked up at him. Noah nodded his head toward the calendar. “So what was the occasion?” he asked. For a second, he thought her face looked tired. Weary.

“Oh, nothing,” she said demurely, and turned back to the coffee machine. He let the lie pass between them like a ghost.

“Ok,” he said. “Ok.”

Then, there was a belching, throat-clearing noise from the doorway of the bathroom, and Sarah walked into the room, stark naked, red hair damp and spiked crazily, rubbing at her eyes. Pausing, she reached down and tugged at the tail of one of the condoms that was jammed in her sexy quim. It came out with a snapping sound, loaded end swaying. Noah could see that she had lost weight, her ribs were showing slightly. Nice, he thought, if you like the runway model type.

“Man,” Sarah said. “Last night was fucked up!”

Noah looked at Mikura, and then both of them, in spite of everything, began to chuckle. He was glad. For a moment, he thought the usually-chipper woman had looked quite sad.


====================================================


It was an overcast day, the day that a beautiful but troubled 13-year-old schoolgirl made her way back to classes after a week’s absence. The truth was, she had been afraid to go back- afraid they all knew her secret, that the boy had told them all. She expected them to come to the girl’s home where she stayed, rattling her windows with cruel chants and shouts of “Freak!”.

They had not. Gradually, she had tested the waters, making short trips outside, and when she saw her classmates, their actions toward her seemed no more cold than usual. She had no true friends, not with her condition dictating that she never swim with the other girls, never change with them, never participate in any of the sexual experimentation they might engage in, games of soft touching, or, as she had discovered was one occurrence, learning to kiss by practicing on each other.

Without much other choice, this young girl, a Setsume Roya of 13 years, six inches shorter, lacking a tattoo or a nose-piercing, missing the rich tan she would later develop, had decided to go back to school. She had not seen the boy, Ryan, about town. She supposed it was probable he was avoiding her- and her heart hurt at the thought. She had fallen for him, he was gentle, friendly, he had treated her with a kindness that no one else had. She had kissed him, her first kiss, behind the Graham Home For Girls- a gentle and beautiful touch of the lips.

Still, Ryan had been possessed of the sexual curiosity inherent in all young boys, and after their first month of seeing each other, not really dating, but spending time together- he had crept to her door from the lobby downstairs, and opened it a crack to see her lithe little 13-year-old body as she changed. The doors at the Girl’s Home had no locks (though Setsume didn’t know this at the time, it was a policy designed to make it easier to foil suicide attempts) and Ryan, the gentle boy who she really and truly loved, had received an eyeful- a clear view of her majestic cock- already 16 inches long at that time.

He had gasped, and run away. She had heard him. She looked at the door, saw it open a crack, and knew exactly what had happened. That night, and for several nights afterward, she had cried herself to sleep. Often, 13-year-old Setsume cursed her traitorous cock as she wept, begging it to just fuck off and die, to fall off- or perhaps transform one night into the wet and virginal slit that she had so often imagined for herself.

She had even imagined cutting it off herself, in one great act of defiance. But where would that leave her? Mutilated, sexless- and more of a freak than when she had taken up the knife.

On the morning of the day she went back to school- the last day she ever attended school in her life, in fact- she had woken up early, cock hot and heavy, feeling the need to piss furiously in the dim hours of dawn. Her body, a long and thin version of her future model, little apple-tits held still inside a lacy white bra, stood motionless over the bowl as she drained her bladder through the fat tube of her mammoth organ. Well aware even at this early time in life of the conspicuous sound of her own thick, splashing piss stream- she aimed at the back of the bowl, muffling the trickle.

With most other children still snug in their beds, she went about the next part of her daily routine- the painstaking process of cleaning out her own asshole until it was suitable for tucking her cock inside. Yes, as the rest of the girls were age were being shaken out of dream sleep by their attentive mothers, Setsume’s orphan morning was a sad, tired procession of cleaning, evacuation, insertion, and then strapping tape for both her cock and her ever-growing balls. The twin orbs protested mightily at being stretched so taut beneath her underpants, but she had no other choice- not if she was going to camouflage her cock beneath the pretty blue skirts that were required uniform gear at her school.

The entire process took almost an hour, each day, every day. When it was done, and her white cotton panties were pulled up over the fat tube of her cock, most of which was jammed into her tight little butt, she dressed the rest of the way (skirt, blouse, tie, stockings, cute hair bows) and went downstairs for the communal breakfast. Even at 13, and she was a vision of loveliness. While the rest of her body would undergo changes, Setsume’s eyes were the same even then- large, piercing grey, bright and sexy.

She ate nervously, and made her way to school with a feeling of dread. Her first class, Social Studies, was the big test- and it passed without incident. It was especially noteworthy because Lorelai Willamette, the stepsister of Ryan Willamette, her vanished love interest, was in the class. But Lorelai, a heartbreaking blonde who was probably the most popular girl in her grade (and who, it was whispered, had an 18 year old boyfriend whom she fucked at every opportunity) didn’t even look at her. Setsume wasn’t even sure Lorelai knew that she and Ryan had been involved.

Her second class was uneventful as well (though she caught an earful regarding her truancy), and at lunch she tried sitting at a table with Mary-Anne Wiegersma, a bespectacled girl who had once invited her over to watch TV. Setsume got the impression that the other girls had gotten in her ear since then about how Setsume was “weird” (she hadn’t been invited over since) but the one time she went had been fun, and Mary-Anne seemed nice. As it was, they passed some conversation about tests and what teachers were the bitchiest, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Then came the mandatory gym class. Young Setsume wasn’t actually too worried about that class, because she hadn’t participated in a gym class all year. With some acting and forced tears, she had gotten a letter from the headmistress of the Girls Home instructing that she be excluded due to “chronic illness”, and usually spent her time in the locker room, reading the newspaper that Coach Arbour (a nice man) always left there in the naive hope that some student would actually take an interest in current events.

On this day, when all the girls were getting changed, she retreated to a bathroom stall and closed the door, planning to reattach a stray piece of tape in between her legs. The low mutter from outside the door, girls laughing and joking, was a little irregular, but in her haste to get the job done (always keeping her skirt halfway around her waist, so she could pull it around herself quickly if a girl happened to open the door while she was inside), Setsume didn’t notice. Her first indication that something was wrong came when she glanced under the raised door of the toilet stall and saw at least ten pairs of feet standing together just outside.

She barely had time to do up her skirt before the latch snapped to the side and the door was pulled open. Setsume squeaked with surprise- she was staring right into the face of Lorelai, who even at that age had a grin that could chill to the bone. Behind the blonde girl were at least fifteen other girls in various stages of undress between school uniform and gym uniform. Lorelai herself was wearing a tight pair of gym shorts and an equally tight white shirt.

“Hey!” yelled Setsume. “What are you doing?”

Lorelai’s response filled Setsume with more fear than she had ever felt in her life. “Take off your skirt.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I said so!” came the response. Lorelai’s eyes were angry, her teeth clenched. The girls behind her began to murmur. One of them, a short, brown-haired girl, finally piped up.

“What have you got to hide, weirdo?” There was a scandalous murmur. Setsume’s eyes darted to the doorway, and crowd gathered there. There was no way she could get past all of them, even if she ran with all the strength in her long and strong 13-year-old legs.

“Lorelai, fuck off!” she finally yelled. “I’m trying to go to the bathroom! Pervert!”

“Come on, let’s make her show us!” Lorelai said. Setsume could see the ripples of the blonde girl’s popularity at work. And something else. She had planted this seed in their minds beforehand- planned this encounter. She had set it up, appealed to each girl's sense of revulsion. Told them what to expect.. Lorelai started forward, and a number of other girls followed her into the stall, hands ready to clutch and grab.

Setsume had no room to move. In a snap decision, she dropped to the ground and tried to roll out under the partition, but felt hands on her legs and hips at once. There was a tearing noise as she was hoisted to her feet, kicking, and her skirt was torn away to reveal her white panties- and the telltale bulge beneath.

“Ewwwwwww!” said one girl. Another one screamed. Setsume tried to burst out of the stall, running, but was thrown back against the wall, right beside the toilet.

“What the fuck is that?” said Lorelai, and her long fingers went to the waistband of Setsume’s panties. Setsume kicked out, hard, and caught Lorelai in the stomach. The other girls seemed to collapse on her, grabbing her arms and legs. She was lifted in the air, and Lorelai rose up from her doubled over position, furious.

“You lying FREAK!” she yelled, and slapped Setsume in the face. Setsume, for the first time, screamed out in anguish. It would not be the last. With more girls jamming into the stall, and Setsume’s legs and arms held, Lorelai used two hands to pull Setsume’s panties down her long legs, tearing the fabric slightly in her fury.

There were gasps, exclamations. Setsume could hear words like “Oh my god!” and “Gross!” echo in her ears. Her crotch was a fleshy mass of tucked dick and balls, held in place by strapping tape- and then she felt intense pain as Lorelai ripped a length of the tape from her tender undercarriage, yanking her scrotum harshly.

“Aaaaah!” Setsume cried, and tears welled in her eyes. She was terrified, powerless, surrounded by people who were disgusted by her.

“You sick freak! You disgusting bitch! Look, she’s got a dick! Just like I told you!” Lorelai continued to rant as she tore the remainder of the tape away. Setsume was wriggling, but held fast, her field of vision was a cavalcade of wide, fearful, staring eyes.

“Oh god, she sticks it up her ass!” someone wailed. “Fucking sick!” And Setsume, even in the extremity of her terror and sadness, could only think: I can't help it! I have to! It doesn't fit anywhere else! I have to do it so I can come to this shitty school and try to be a normal person!

Lorelai gave Setsume's shaft a yank, dislodging it from her ass and letting the entire girth of her girlcock dangle free, there was a frenzy of disgust and speculation. Nubile young girls wondered dirtily if she had wanted to fuck them, whether or not she walked around the girls locker room dreaming about sticking her freakish cock in their little 13-year-old cunts.

“Freak!”
“Weirdo!”
“Lying bitch!”
“Dyke!”
“Freak!”

That word, above all.

“Freak!”
“Freak!”
“Freak!”

Some of the girls had surrounded Mary-Anne, who was almost Setsume’s friend, and were accusing her harshly. “I bet you sucked on her dick! You’re her friend, right?” Mary-Anne’s bespectacled eyes were wide with terror, and then they hardened.

“No,” she said. “I hate her! She’s not my friend!” Setsume could see the revulsion in her eyes, the desperation not to be labeled as a friend of the freakish girl. It hurt so bad, Setsume thought her little heart would shatter. She was hyperventilating. But we watched TV together, she thought crazily.

“Yeah?” challenged another girl. “Prove it!”

Lorelai ripped open Setsume’s blouse, exposing her plump little tits, wrapped in their soft white bra covering. That was when the first spit hit the restrained young girl just below the chin- a white gob splattering on her angular neck. Mary-Anne had spit on her.

“Yeah!” someone exclaimed, and there were immediate hocking noises, the sound of a multitude of throats accumulating phlegm.

No, thought Setsume. No, no, no, no, no, please, no. Don’t.

But they did. Eyes flashing with disgust and anger, the girls rained down upon her with a torrent of warm, gooey spit, blasting mouthfuls of thick white foam into her face and over her exposed upper body. She felt wet curds splatter her legs, the side of her little ass, and her cock. Some of the girls had climbed up above the partition and were spitting down from far above, splattering her hair. They had ceased holding her, letting Setsume fall to the filthy floor as they emptied their scornful mouths upon her.

“Freak!”
“Whore!”
“Spit on her!”

Setsume heard screams and crying amidst the din, and could barely realize they were coming from her. She was wailing, eyes filled with tears, arms drawn up in an attempt to protect her face. She had never cried harder, or been more fundamentally hurt.

There was a wet *splat!* as one girl splattered her chest with a bunch of wadded-up, soaked toilet paper. Lorelai leered over her, and then dropped to her eye level to deliver a scalding, sticky mouthful of spit right between Setsume’s eyes. The blonde pulled mightily at Setsume’s bra, and there was a painful snap as the clasp was broken- Setsume could feel the fabric dig deep into her skin before breaking loose.

“Look, she’s half boy and half girl!”
“Freak!”
“Sick bitch!”

One girl suggested that perhaps they leave her alone, and was confronted at once.

“Why don’t the two of you get married, she can make you pregnant!” Others echoed the sentiment, and the girl backed down in a hurry.

“She fooled my brother, she lied to him!” Lorelai cried. “And now he’s tried to kill himself!”

Setsume’s mind whirled with pain and fear. Is that what had happened to Ryan? Had he hurt himself? Please god, no. Please god, make it stop.

“You should kill yourself instead, you fucking freak!”

That was when things got out of control.

Someone threw a running shoe, hard, from close range. Setsume felt incomparable pain as the hard rubber sole crashed into her tiny nose, shattering it- there was a sickening crunch of cartilage and bone, like someone cocking a gun. The young, black-haired girl saw nothing but stars. Her ears were an ocean of catcalls and hatred.

Seeing the rush of blood pour down Setsume’s nose, over her lips, and down her chin seemed to make many of the girls take pause. They looked at each other with a sort of “What have we done?” vibe. But Lorelai and her clique were merciless. Setsume felt the blood begin to pour down the front of her budding chest and willed herself to pass out. To die. To do anything to stop this moment.

“Freak!”

“You shouldn’t go near boys, you should go to the circus and find your own kind.”

“You hurt Ryan! Why couldn’t you just leave him alone, you whore?”

Lorelai grabbed Setsume by the hair, and her friends helped her drag the poor girl over to the toilet. Setsume found herself looking down into the bowl. It was yellow with unflushed piss, and the bottom was streaked with feces.

“Make her drink it!” someone yelled. “She deserves it!” The water had begun to gain a pink cast as blood from Setsume’s nose mixed in. Lorelai gripped Setsume’s hair with both hands, yanking her neck hard, and turned her face, meeting her eye to eye. Setsume’s grey eyes were locked, for the first time, with Lorelai’s light blue dagger glare. The place was mayhem. When Lorelai bent to exhale a harsh whisper into Setsume’s ear through gritted teeth, only Setsume could hear what she said.

“You stupid cunt. You stupid cow, you dumb bitch. You sloppy, fucked up whore. You’re too fucking stupid to keep that disgusting thing between your legs hidden? He went around telling everyone about his little girlfriend, how much he liked you.”

Lorelai jammed Setsume’s head into the toilet bowl, driving it deep. Setsume felt the sour, horrible smell and taste of stale piss envelop her head. She wanted to scream, but dared not open her mouth. But she couldn’t breath through her nose, either- she had been taking great, gasping breaths. She couldn’t take it much longer.

Good, let them kill me, she thought, wearily- the thoughts of a human being aged 13-going-on-80. Anything to end this. Fucking kill me. Someone just slit my throat, it’s better than this pain, never having any friends, never being able to love, ever, ever, ever.

Lorelai pulled her out again. Again their eyes were locked. There was bedlam, as the girls cheered Lorelai towards the destruction of the mutant whore who had, according to the blonde girl, seduced and shattered her brother. Blood burbled from Setsume’s nose, her face was a mask of wetness, her hair was plastered with spit and toilet water. And again Lorelai whispered.

“I hope you die, bitch. Did you ever think about anyone but yourself while you were sucking his dick? Did you ever think someone else might have loved him? Did you ever think that maybe that diseased, sickening monster you have growing out of you might be better kept hidden from him? He’s so mortified about it, that he was in love with a freak like you, he’s put himself in the hospital!”

Setsume’s mind whirled. I never sucked his dick! I only kissed him! I just wanted to love him! I just wanted to love him! I just wanted someone to love me! Anyone!

Again, she was shoved face-first into the toilet, hard and deep. She imagined she felt the greasy feel of caked shit rubbing against her forehead. Her gorge rose.

I will not throw up. I will not throw up. I will not throw up.

Finally Lorelai pulled her up again. Water ran from Setsume’s mouth- some of it had gotten inside.

“He told me he was disgusted. That he could never be with anyone like you!” she seethed. Then her voice rose to a scream, tears welling in her eyes.

“YOU RUINED EVERYTHING!”

Setsume saw through glazed eyes that Lorelai was crying. The blonde backed off, shoving Setsume roughby back against the wall. And then there was a great and enormous pain as Lorelai stamped down on Setsume’s dick with one sneaker-clad foot, mashing the middle length against the floor.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh!” she screamed. The pain was beyond anything she had ever felt. She thought her cock had ruptured. And then she did throw up, try as she might to avoid it- her body was simply shocked into the act. A fountain of beige gruel rocketed sloppily down the front of her destroyed teenage frame, joining the blood-trail and slathering the space between her breasts and coating the pain-nova of her fat prick.

Lorelai crouched over her, glaring. “You leave this place tonight. Go anywhere, far away from here. If you show your face around here again, the girls and I will make you sorry.”

Then she rose, and began to back out of the stall. The other girls went with her, and even the heads that were gazing down from above the partition, standing on piles of textbooks to get a good view, vanished.

Setsume watched them go and, for the first time in her life, felt she was on the edge of sanity. Later on, years afterward, she would reflect on that moment, and think about how, if things had been just a bit worse, she would have collapsed into a spiral of gibbering psychosis from which she never would have returned. She would have lain there crying until they showed up to cart her off to a mental hospital for the rest of her days.

As it was, though, the young Setsume, clothes torn, tight teenage body ravaged by spit, blood, and vomit, nose crushed, would not slip away so easily. Slowly, painfully, aware of the sudden silence of the locker room and the sounds of jumping jacks just outside, Setsume Roya began to pull herself to her feet.


====================================================


Setsume did not tell Lola all of the story, or even most of it. Just the parts she cared to tell- the parts she could will herself to tell. She did not tell Lola how she had pissed blood for two or three days afterward, or that no one had come to comfort her as she limped painfully from the school grounds, wrapped in the extra gym clothes that were left for people who had forgotten theirs on gym day. About how her nose had been crooked for almost half a year before being re-set.

She also didn’t tell Lola the story of how, the next day, a trucker pulled off to the side of the road to pick up a thin figure in a hooded sweatshirt.

When the trucker pulled over, figuring to do his good deed for the day, he saw with a start that the hooded figure was a young woman- and she had two serious shiners and a large bandage over her nose. All he knew was- her grey eyes were hard. And they meant business. Anyone with eyes like that was looking to make a mark on the world.

They pulled out onto the Interstate and the hooded figure noticed a package of Marlboro cigarettes on the dashboard. “Mind if I try one of those?” she said. The trucker said it would be ok, and the girl smoked damn near the whole trip, as if she were trying to make up for lost time.

And on the radio, in that sun-heated truck cab...Gordon Lightfoot.

I don't know where we went wrong
But the feeling’s gone
And I just can't get it back