The old placer miner’s shack is quiet, the surrounding forest still. Even the ponds near the river’s edge are silent, the frogs that nightly raise their symphony of rough calls are on alert, wary of the distant screams of a girl in frantic pain and need.

The grey van that parks near the shack above the ponds every Friday night when the parents of certain girls while away their hours at the honky-tonk on the highway, is missing; now further along the rutted dirt road. It is from within the van that the screams emit, heard only by the frogs and those inside the van.

Though the night is cool, the air inside the van is humid, smelling of sweat, sex, urine, and vomit. A girl named Grace is slick with sweat, her hair plastered to her scalp and face. The mattress between her open thighs is wet with urine and what the man that is pressing down hard on her lower belly calls ‘honey’. Another girl is laying beside Grace, holding her tight, pinching her small pink nipples. Her name is Olive, and she is there to help her friend Grace endure her ordeal, or help ease her out of this life.

“… Harder! …” Grace screams at the man between straining grunts, spit spraying past her clenched teeth, “… I can feel it! … I can feel it! …”

The heels of the man’s hands are pressed deep in Grace’s abdomen just on either side of her belly button, the little pot belly between it and her sex is like a hard ball. It is this he is pushing against.

“Push it out! Push it out!” Grace cries out, her once tender voice now raw and hoarse.

“It’s not working, Grace.” Olive says, wiping the beads of sweat from Grace’s brow with a pair of underpants.

“It has to work …” Grace whimpers, tears filling her eyes, and in a smaller, weaker voice; “… it just has to …”

“You’re bleeding.” the man says as he lifts his hands, giving up. He knows very little about anatomy, and only a minimum about female reproductive organs. Seven months prior he helped Grace’s older sister using this same method - not one that was clinically sound, but one that arose from desperation; the fetus inside Sissy had to die, or she did. And now the one inside Grace has to die or she has to face the same ending. Yet this girl is different, she knows her choices.

Grace begins to sob, rolling toward Olive, pressing her wet face between Olive’s budding breasts. Olive holds her, coos quietly, slowly strokes her back.

“… I don’t want to die …” Grace whimpers softly.

“I know, Grace. I know.” Olive whispers, just loving her friend. The man is patient - he has all night and lets Grace cry herself out. In time Grace settles, comes to grips with her reality, pulls back and looks into Olive’s eyes as she wipes the tears and snot from her face.

“I guess it’s the stocking.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yep. Let’s get it over with.” Grace says, forcing a smile, “It was a lot of fun though, right?”

“Oh, Grace.” Olive fends off her own tears.

“Use your fingers?” Grace asks Olive, then asks the man; “Do it when it happens for me?” They agree.

The man leans back against the wall of the van and gathers Grace in his arms, pulling her small body against his, her back to his belly. She picks up the silk stocking and offers it to him. He takes it and sets it aside.

“No.” he says as he slips the fingers of a leather gloved hand around her throat and squeezes.

“Oh, man.” Grace gasps, her voice tinged with excitement, and draws her knees up and opens her thighs wide. Olive settles belly down, her face inches from Grace’s crotch and kisses her wet mound, teasing the slick slit with a finger. Grace shudders.

Olive finds Grace’s sex loose and oily, slick with her honey. Two fingers slide in easily so she uses a third, pumping slowly, exploring, sliding deep. Grace begins to rotate her hips, the twin globes of her perfect bum moving sensually around Olive’s hand between the man’s open thighs.

“… s’ good …” Grace whispers.

The man tightens and loosens his hand by degrees, teasing Grace with what will soon come.

“… more …” Grace begs, her breathing getting heavier, “… use four … use four …” and Olive pushes her forth finger inside her friend’s sex, wriggling her fingertips, exciting that special spot they discovered when the man fingered them - the spot where the best orgasms come from. Grace’s sex is growing looser and squishy.

“… oh god … I can feel it …” Grace gasps, her voice becoming breathy and light - her orgasm building fast, “… it’s gunna happen … oh god … gunna happen …” The man tightens his hand and Grace gags, then whimpers when he loosens it.

“… please!” Grace cries out, growing more and more aroused, knowing this will be her final orgasm, the thought exciting and terrifying Though she’s never done it before, Olive knows what Grace wants and tucks her thumb in her palm and pushes hard. Grace strains as Olive’s knuckles stretch her wider than she’s ever been - even wider than the man’s cock - then grunts as Olive’s entire hand is swallowed by her sex and sinks deep with a wet plop.

“… oh, feck … oh feck …” Grace cries out, her thighs quivering, her feet pressing against Olive’s ribs. Olive grasps Grace’s right foot with her left hand, aroused by it, thrilled when Grace’s toes curl in orgasm. She moves herself and takes Grace’s toes into her mouth, sucking them, licking between them. Grace is quivering now, each breath gasping and desperate.

“… it’s coming … it’s coming …” she gasps, “… oh mommy …”

The man slides his free hand down Grace’s body, covering her little pot belly, pressing in and down, pushing the lump deep and low in a slow pulsing rhythm. Grace reaches down and grips the blanket in her small fists, her knuckles turning white and her arms trembling. More honey flows from Grace’s sex, coating Olive’s forearm as she pumps her fist deep and shallow, matching the man’s rhythm. She wants to give her friend the best death possible.

“… it’s starting! … oh god, it’s starting! …” Grace cries out and squirms against the hand holding her throat, humping her pelvis against Olive’s arm. Olive feels the muscles of Grace’s belly tighten until they grip her fist tight inside, the oily silkiness undulating against her hand and wrist. Olive can feel Grace’s pulse inside her sex as her heart hammers wildly.

“NGAH!” Grace convulses and gags as her orgasm bursts inside her belly. Olive presses harder, trying to force her fist right up inside Grace’s abdomen. The man pushes down hard, compressing Grace’s lower belly as though he is trying to force the fetus and Olive’s hand out of her. Grace begins to scream but it is cut short as the man clamps his fingers tight on her throat.

Olive has never felt such arousal in herself as Grace’s body quivers and jerks its way through her final orgasm. Grace’s honey is now flowing down Olive’s forearm and adding to it Olive sees the opening of Grace’s sex expand and pee jets from her to spray and spurt over Olive’s throat and chest. Her gullet clamped tightly shut by the man’s hand, Olive can hear Grace’s constrained straining and the pulsing gurgles as Grace’s stomach convulses inside her, the man’s hand gripping Grace’s gag reflex and her undulating belly sending gushes of liquid up her gullet to flow back down. Olive feels the toes on Grace’s left foot curl and dig into her ribs and suddenly overcome by a frantic lust, Olive grips the heel of Grace’s right foot and pulls it deeper into her own mouth, the little toes on that foot curling inside Olive’s throat making her gag and heave along with her friend.

Though her body is in riot, Grace’s face remains stoic and grim, no expression revealing the impossible intense sexual bliss she is experiencing. Grace knows she is dying and is savouring every second left to her. For Grace and Olive, time seems to stretch on for a lifetime as Grace’s small body vibrates with the most powerful orgasm of her young life and Olive gags and retches as Grace’s toes flex in her throat. Yet all things must end and Grace’s body calms by degrees; her convulsions slow; her sex loosens around Olive’s fist; her thighs flop open and her toes go limp. As her right foot slips from Olive’s mouth leaving Olive to vomit onto the blanket, her belly slumps limp. The man moves Grace’s body off him, to flop facedown on the mattress. Grace is dead, yet Olive’s arousal remains and is a lust she has never felt before.

Pushing Grace’s flaccid legs out of her way, Olive scrambles forward, pawing at the man’s underwear, pulling it aside to release his rigid cock.

“… please …. please …” she gasps breathlessly and moans as the man takes her body in his strong hands and lays her back onto the mattress into the puddle of Grace’s pee and honey, the puddles of vomit left by both girls. Lifting her thighs open and wide, he presses into her - the pain of the sudden and relentless penetration jolting through her core like an impalement by a sharpened steel spit. The man pins her to the mattress and pounds her hard and deep, his own lust equalling hers. Their rutting only lasts seconds, with him grunting and Olive screaming as their orgasms erupt in their bodies simultaneously.

The man is kind enough to stay inside her as she clutches at him with her hands and wraps her thin legs around him, clinging tight as she feels her emotions rise hot and fast in her. The man cradles the small of her back as he sits up, holding her shaking body tight to him as she sobs, grieving the loss of her best friend and allowing the pent-up energy inside her to flow our with her sobs and tears.

By the time the man and Olive climb out of the van and drag Grace’s body to lay it on the soft loam, the frogs are again chirruping around the ponds. Taking turns, they use the shovel he brought to dig a long deep trench and gently lower Grace into it then cover her with dirt.

Filthy and naked, they again come together and rut, slower this time, Olive able to savour his hardness moving inside her tightness, and his orgasm is silent and her’s is slow and sweet and this time she feels his seed gushing into her inner creases and secret places.

“Put a baby in me.” Olive whispers to him as she feels him filling her, “Put a baby in my belly.”

“I will.” he promises.

“But I still want the candy.” Olive giggles.