The Vacuum Incident

A cautionary tale

	

Jill walked along the hallway, vacuuming the floor.

	

She moved slowly, making sure to push the head of the vacuum into every corner and over every crevice, being fastidious in her efforts to ensure the cleanliness of the carpet. The vacuum was a suck type device, with a long metal tube, that served as both handle and head, attached to the main unit, which was worn like a back-pack, by a sturdy and flexible rubber hose.

	

Jill was quite in love with her vacuum, which she had received as a birthday present from her mother earlier that year. The young girl couldn't abide dirtiness of any sort, so the present, which most girls would have been less than thrilled with, had been absolutely perfect.

	

Jill hummed happily as she finished with the floor of the hallway, gratified that not a speck of dirt remained behind where she and her vacuum had passed. She opened the door to the living room, eager to render it dirt free as well, and stopped in her tracks, frowning in consternation, at the sight that greeted her within.

	

Jill's brother, quite nude, sat with his naked butt on the carpet before the couch. He leaned back against it, with his legs spread wide and his hips thrust out, masturbating furiously.

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NEW YORK PARTY GIRL
by Regis



I’ve got no idea how I got into what turned out to be this crazy, extraordinary, exciting lifestyle, but hey, it wasn’t always like this. The truth is, I’m quite a good girl, really. I’m not a call girl, a prostitute or anything, I only fuck friends, and only do it at parties, where everyone’s doing it, and everyone sees everything you do, like nothing ever happens in private, the way prostitutes do it.

I expect becoming a party girl had something to do with how much fun I have riding a a big stiff cock, and the high, even hypersensitiveness of my clit, the way guys loved to plunge their raging erections into me, front and back, sometimes both at the same time, or drive a big dick down my throat, and of course maybe also it has something to do with the wild crowd I run with. Who knows?

Life is all about hooking up. Right? All my friends know I am pretty much a party girl, especially the guys who are my friends, with their constant hard-ons, drilling me at every opportunity, but I’ve got to say I still believe I’m a good girl, because actually everyone in our crowd does it, and always do it together, we never sneak off in private, like a prostitute or anything. I think I already said that.

I never did do drugs, since a girl can easily get hooked, and I never got into anything more addictive than grass and maybe sometimes I had a chance to sniff the occasional row of snow. Ya, coke. That’s what people do. Its not that bad, you know, once you get it into your system.


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Ben hadn't noticed that his babysitter sneaked out until long after she was gone, Initially the young boy was mad that he had been left alone but soon the boy realized what an opportunity it was. First thing he did was put on the 'showtime' channel that had all the R rated movies him mom didn't let him watch. They were rife with action, violence and the occasional flashing of boobies. The young boy was still too little to be really turned on by them...but they sure were fun to look at for! Once he had his fill he went to the kitchen and ate an entire carton of ice cream before stealing a dozen cookies. A few hours later he came back, snacking some more before heading to bed at nearly 11pm, hours past his bed time. He plopped down in his bed, his little belly swollen with sweets. He kicked off his sneakers, showing of his heavily grayed days old socks before laying down. For a while he was unable to fall asleep but after lifting his shirt and popping the button on his shorts he was able to doze off. Leaving his shorts open and underwear exposed, drool spilling down the side of his face as he slept

Though he wouldn't sleep soundly for long, before long the young boy began to toss and turn in his sleep. His mind doing its best too keep him from waking as a deep pain began to shoot through his guts. His stomach churning a bubbling against the massive intake of sweets. Before long he woke with groan and wicked tummy ache. He rubbed his swollen belly as it churned and bubbled beneath his fingers. Ben groaned again, feeling a wave of nausea strike him. Drool smeared all over the right side of his face, but yet more saliva began to spill into his mouth. Then came the terrible sensation that young Ben knew all to well. That awful tickle in the back of his throat. The muscles loosening and opening up. Getting ready to expel the contents of his stomach.

"Ohhh nooo" He whined, quickly hopping out of his bed, his filthy socks slapping the hard wood floor. He shuffled quickly out of his room and headed down the hall. He was going to spew, he knew it was coming, that tickle in his throat let him know it was already too late for him to have any hope of not barfing. Not even halfway down the hall and his stomach lurched, he instinctively threw his hand up to cover his mouth as he gagged

"Bleephhff" A disgusting gurgling came out of his throat as he upchucked a creamy slime of bile and half digested ice cream. It sprayed out between his fingers and splattered onto the floor. Ben tried to push on, but he was already throwing up. He hoped he could make it to the bathroom with only a small mess to clean up, but unfortunately he was not so lucky.

He made a shuffling four steps before a gurgling belch sent a violent spray of barf shooting out from his lips, this a much more chunky colorful chum of partially digested candy and sweets. He tried to keep it from spilling out of his mouth with his hand but only succeeded in vomiting all over himself, puke dripping down his arm to his elbow and splattering the front of his shirt. The wretch sour taste kept him from keeping his mouth clenched and the burning sensation in his throat was too much to bare. He gave in, pulling his puke covered hand away from his face he leaned over just a bit and began to projectile vomit right onto the floor

Puke sprayed out of his throat for what seemed like ages, the foul taste of bile washing over his tongue as the muscles in his stomach continue to contract. The chunky spray of colorful spew splattered to the floor just in front of his feet. A pile of white mush with colorful chunks and bits of half dejected cake and candy began to grow as he barfed. Before long the pile of vomit overtook his toes, his own bile seeping into his socks before burying his toes in vomit. His throat burned terribly, all the way up to his nose.

Tears streamed down the young boys face as he begged for his body to stop, as far as the boy knew, throwing up was the worst thing that he could suffer through. Finally, after what seemed like hours to the small boy, vomit stopped coming up out of his throat. He coughed, sputtered and spat, groaning as the pain in his tummy as well as the nausea had not subsided. The foul taste of vomit clung to his tongue, making his stomach churn, no matter how many time he spat the taste wouldn't leave. Suddenly he hiccuped, and up came more vomit. Just enough to fill his little mouth and spill over his bottom lip, dripping down his chin.

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Holly shivered as she stood in her families living room in just her panties. She was 14 and had already developed considerably. With a 34 C chest, a 22 inch waist and a 35 inch hips, her 5'1" frame was quite attractive. 'Breeding hips' her father had called them; and not lightly either. She had already had three of his children, a little girl named Mercades, born when she was 12, and had just given birth to twin boys a year ago. The kids were a handful, but her other sisters were helpful. She had an older sister, Clara who had three daughters, two her dads, and one her brothers. There was an older still sister Rachel, but she had been spit roasted and bar-b-qued last summer. She had had 4 girls in a row and had been roasted. Her oldest brother Ken, who had fathered them was cooked and eaten first. The human cannibalism laws realized that just cooking the girls was a recipie for no humans left, so boys were on the menu as well. Girls could be cooked, but only if they had enough children to replace them. That meant three children. Hollies youngest sister, Dana was only 11 and had not gotten pregnent yet.
Hollies brother Virgil, was standing on the other side of the room with her father. She was standing there with Clara. Their brother was working toward his journeymen certificate as a longpig chef and he needed a subject to snuff. As the only girls in his family he could practice on (their mom had been snuffed several years ago) he was picking between the two. Virgils eyes finally landed on Holly and he nodded. Her father dismissed Clara from the room. And they went into the back yard to practice.
"Go in just under the sternum, down, around the belly button, and end just above the cunt" Hollies brother demonstrated with a finger simulating the knife. Holly was on all fours with her brother behind her. He had been pointing out the things he needed to know for the journeymans exam. He was going to be getting a longpig selected from the lottery, but was allowed to practice at home under the eyes of his father, who was a master chef.
"Correct," said his father. "You're doing very well, I'm sure you'll pass this exam with flying colors."
"I sure hope so," said Virgil.
"Well, I think that's about all for now, and I'm sure you could use some time to relieve some stress." Jonas nodded to his daughter, "So I'll leave you two alone to do that."
Jonas Crittendon walked out of the room and Virgil turned to his sister, who remained on all fours looking back at him, almost expectantly, he thought.
He slid her panties down and slowly nosed the head of his rock hard cock into her already wet cunt. She moaned softly at the invasion, but pushed back like a true slut.
"God, I love your cunt sis."
"I have a name, do you have to remind me that I'm your sister?"
"I know you do, but yes, I have to remind you. It's hot to fuck your own sister."
Holly moaned softly, knowing that she felt the same way, but refusing to admit it.
"I know you like it, sis, you always get so wet when I remind you. You get turned on by taboo stuff, like having your little incest babies with dad, or getting your brothers cock. Hell I'll bet you are even a little snuff slut."

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Serena and I were enjoying our moment at the beach.

“It’s so great that we’ve managed to get the beach to ourselves.” She said to me.

“Yeah…” I muttered. I was a little too shy to look at her directly. Even as her body was submerged with the water, her gorgeous face with her shimmering blue eyes were too much for me to handle without tackling her for a hug. She swam over to me.

“You know, seeing as we’re alone and all that…” She gave me a seductive look. I blushed.

“Wait, what?” I asked her. Before anything else happened, Serena held her gut in pain. “H-hey! Are you alright?” Serena began to sink. I panicked and grabbed her, swimming as fast as I can to the shore. I knew we should have waited an hour before eating.

Eventually we got to the shore. I was carrying her in my arms and placed her on my towel. I got her mouth to open as I tried my best to attempt CPR. At least, I tried to. I placed my hands on her chest and pumped it up and down while breathing into her mouth. There was no one else to help me with the CPR, so I was stuck on my own. Up, down, up, down. I tried my hardest, but I wasn’t able to fully know CPR. By about five minutes, I froze in despair as I fully convinced myself that I couldn’t revive her. I looked at my hands as they hovered over her chest…

I had one hand hover over her breast. I squeezed it… It felt warm. I could feel her nipple poking my hand as I kept squeezing. I looked at her open mouth and moved for it, kissing her and giving her my tongue. I gently moaned as I got on top of her to feel her remaining warmth plus the warmth of her still-wet body. My legs moved around as my knee touched something: her crotch. I got up and looked at her in her white one-piece bikini. She looked so beautiful and peaceful. I looked to her crotch. I had to see it. I got to the crotch part and slid it away, revealing to me her vagina.

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Hello everyone! I am not new to this site in terms of browsing, but certainly in posting. I am a writer who, as the subject line says, writes scat related stories. While I might not be prompt with replies and whatnot, I wanted to post some of my work here on this site to spread my name a bit. Whether or not I post all of it here, I'm unsure of, but I do have other sites I post to.

You can also find my work on Tumblr and on my recently remade HF account.
dethlwriting.tumblr.com
www.hentai-foundry.com/user/Dethl-Reborn/profile

I will post a few of my works below, so people can see how I write.

The thing that awoke Victoria first were the distant screams. Pained, horrific screams that were utterly impossible to ignore. Cold sweat doused her forehead, and her chest rose and fell as she recovered from some terrifying nightmare that, at the moment, she couldn’t seem to recall. She swallowed, her smooth throat bulging ever so slightly. She looked around, attempting to take in her surroundings, but all she could note was the close blackness and her positioning. Nothing was making sense. Where was she? What was happening? Who was screaming? Why was she… why was she entirely naked? She could feel her limbs all stretched apart like the Vitruvian Man, held up by tight restraints that seemed to be a part of the wall she was pressed against. As she slowly regained more confidence, the prospect of struggling became more and more relevant in her mind. She blinked twice rapidly then lurched forward, as if hoping to break one of the restrains. Nothing, of course, but her somewhat hefty body jiggling.

“It’s… no use…” she heard a voice say above her. It was quiet and raspy, hushed and extremely stressed. She had heard the voice before, but something about it was so different she just couldn’t tell. It sounded dry, as if she had been awake much, much longer than Victoria had been. She looked up. Directly above her was another girl in the exact same position as her, yet Victoria couldn’t see her face. Just a rather plump, delectable pussy that preceded a taut anus pulled open by her stretched cheeks. Beyond that, Tori could see only breasts, firm and round with quite a bit of weight, not too dissimilar to her own.

“Who are you?” Victoria asked quietly.

“Shannon. There’s no use trying to escape…”

Shannon? Her sister? None of this was making sense: being bound up naked underneath her own sister, the sound of distant screaming. What was happening? What was going to happen?

In the distance, Victoria suddenly heard a low buzzing, followed by the loudest screams she had yet to hear. Her eyebrows pushed together, forming creases on her forehead, in fear and confusion. The confusion followed when the screams died out suddenly. The distant buzz clicked off. Now there was nothing. No sound but the soft, heavy breaths of her and her sister. What could she do now? It was obviously no time for small talk with her sister, and as time progressed worry welled up more and more inside her.

And the anxiety welled for quite some time. In fact, though she didn’t have a legitimate way to measure it, she knew somehow she hung there for hours after the screaming stopped. The only comfort Tori had was knowing her sister was right above her, and something about the soft sound of breath filling the mysterious chamber brought a warm satisfaction to her heart where joy currently lacked.

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Hello everyone, back with a new story! It's in kind of a different format than usual. Not just straight prose. Was interesting to write, and I'm planning on more. So without further ado:

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The following emails were sent on the 29th of November 20XX, shortly after the release of the highly anticipated new games console, the Real, and the latest installment of the long-running Realms of Rampage fantasy RPG franchise, which utilised advanced technology to reflect in-game activity onto the user. This exchange, prompted by a Ms. Karen Dziekanowski, is one of many similar email chains sent in the aftermath of the game’s release.

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TO: [email protected]
FROM: Karen Dziekanowski (e-mail address censored for privacy)
SUBJECT: Some Quick Questions!

Hello,

Just want to ask a few quick questions about the Real and the new Realms of Rampage game. LOVE the game so far, so immersive, like nothing I’ve ever played! But there are one or two little things that I thought I’d just clear up with you guys.

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Aphrodite

She is worshiped and beloved; a vision of beauty, a figure of grace, and a symbol of sex, with a form crafted to be adored and to be an object of lust. Resting in her chamber, her tall, sweeping crown of spired horns curls back with a gleam in the light as she brushes her hands up a thigh, running the fingers from her knee and up across its length, fanning them out and letting each tactile sensor tingle with sensation as she draws them slowly and lustfully up. She waits for her visitor--a suitor of appropriately fine breeding and form--with an anticipation honed by the countless visitations and hours of passionate and savage ravagings; it is, after all, what she was made for; it is what she was programmed and shaped and perfected to be: a lover of android forms; a giver of pleasure; a performer of exquisite skill; a goddess of sex and joy.

The chamber opens, and her suitor waits in the door; a tall and handsomely built machine shaped with a wide and stout frame, whose sweeping lines and curling accents lead her eyes to all the places necessary to excite her senses. His own optics gaze on her, studying her full and voluptuous gynoid form from the tall crown of horns down over her long and slender neck, and over the round and full fluid-filled sacks that form her breasts. There he pauses, studying the transparent plastics and the clear fluid swirling within, transfixed by the attached sensors that are her nipples and the apertures that rhythmically twitch, opening and shutting just slightly with each breath in wild, yet restrained, anticipation, the tiny slatted receptacles offering him just enough of a glimpse at the machinery beneath to court his arousal.

At length he enters, the door shutting behind him for a measure of privacy, and he is drawn to the broad curves of her hips and legs as she stretches and kicks them out luridly, and even the coy bent of her arms on the seat behind her as she steadies herself lends sultry imagery to the vision; for the very act pushes her chest forward and up, and the twitching nipples reach longingly out towards him as he nears. Her expression remains placid and sedate, even as she bats her eyes slowly, and still her countenance is unreadable when he stops before her, takes her breasts in his hands, and rubs and squeezes and caresses them in small, taut circles on her chest; still placid, even, as he brushes her nipples against his thighs; still placid, even, as he squeezes them together against the dangling, slowly-rising organ between his legs.

She is a master of the game, always in control and always teasing in her actions, and even as he cups her head in his palms and gently lifts her up for a kiss she plays her role, submissively blinking and playing her hands over his chest and haunches; slowly making her way around to his crotch, and touching with such gentle pressure as to tickle at his tactile sensors. The cold, airy sensations tug at his psyche, and soon he's pulled her close to kiss and caress, his own hands gripping and drawing about the soft, pliable skin draped over her frame. Together they mingle, artificial forms falling into each other's arms, her ample breasts mashing against his chest as their attentions turn increasingly aggressive, until he's pushing her back onto the bed, controlling her weight with uncanny strength and grace as he climbs over the top of her.

With him straddled above her, she feels at once both submissive and excited by his exertion of control, and is further aroused as he strokes his member, pulling and aiming its ample length towards her chest; the very act teasing and torturing her with anticipation until simulated breaths turn to gasps as he taps the head of himself against a nipple. His attention is first on but one, and he draws the head over its twitching surface as he calibrates the mating surface, when his own member spins and twirls, altering its surface as slats and apertures open and close, its length changing in shape and form until a proper engagement can be made with her unique model. And then, at last, he removes his hand and pushes himself into the mating surface, the head engaging easily with the aperture and locking in place, and as he begins to pump in and out the rest of his pole grows taut and thick, pushing into the clear liquid in her breast while the head remains stationary.

Its width pushes her aperture wider, emitting electrical pulses with each thrust which disperse through the liquid as a flash of sensation that her sensors can only describe as pure and carnal pleasure. She gasps and pants as she watches the shaft plunge down into her breast, and exclaims as it retreats in tiny, gasping whimpers; quietly and silently entreating her suitor to continue, so that she can watch and feel his manhood penetrating deep into her, so that the visual stimulus can continue to arouse her desires ... but as a tiny wisp of fluid escapes his member and mingles with that of her breast's he abruptly stops, gently removing himself from her quietly panting form and allowing a drop of her clear liquid to spill onto her nipple, where it rolls slowly down the round bulge of her chest and onto her belly. He pauses then as she silently pleads for more, his member rearranging and re-calibrating, but even as she begs for the second breast she sees the reconfiguration and knows its import; in return playing her fingers about the aperture of her pussy, lifting and spreading the lips to let him inside. With ravenous and slow strength he pushes himself in, plunging his slatted metal cock down to the balls with each and every slow, deliberate, and grinding thrust deep into her body.

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//Preparations//

Ebony smiled as she looked up at the two girls before her, and then back to the request list she had been given.

She had killed in the past, of course, but those were people willing to die to become dinner for others. These two, as she noted by their bindings, struggling, and glares they gave her, were far from willing, and yet the request was that both would be butchered, cooked, and served as a feast.

The eldritch servant puffed out her cheeks in annoyance before folding the paper several times into a square and putting it into her mouth; swallowing it in the process.

She looked back up to the two, one a green zombie, stitches in places to hold limbs in place, and a light-brown skinned girl with a long purple ponytail. Rottytops and Shantae, they were called.

Ebony considered her options. She had to prepare some kind of meal with the two of them, since that was the request of her patrons, but her rule of not killing the unwilling clung to her mind and prevented her from acting.

A nyotaimori style did come to mind, but the request said cooked and neither of them appeared willing to die. Amputating the limbs was an option, but the human couldn't get new limbs like the zombie likely could. She did not know of any magic that allowed for regeneration or revival in this world, so the simple solution was out.

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So apparently the original thread got bumped off the board. That makes it a bit harder to post my newest chapter.

This is a Standalone(ish) Sequel to Liara offers her Azure (Found Here: http://www.hentai-foundry.com/stories/user/thevisitorblack/14368/Liara-offers-her-Azure ) and Allers offers an Interview (Found Here: http://www.hentai-foundry.com/stories/user/thevisitorblack/18828/Allers-Offers-Interview ). Chapter 4 occurs at the exact same time as Falere Offers Dinner (Found here: http://www1.asstr.org/files/Authors/TheVisitorBlack/Fanfiction/Mass%20Effect%20Series/Falere%20Offers%20Dinner.txt ). All of the previous stories can be found in text form on my Hentai-Foundry page or my ASSTR site (here: http://www1.asstr.org/files/Authors/TheVisitorBlack/Fanfiction/Mass%20Effect%20Series/).

Summary: Tali gives herself to Garrus as meat, and Garrus decides to play with his Food.

Chapter 1 - Tali Asks
It had been a week since Shepard and Traynor had eaten Liara's Azure; a week since they had consigned the Asari to the kitchen for parts; and in that week almost everyone had had a chance to enjoy Liara's meat except for Tali and Garrus. Liara had been found in the refrigerator the next day, dead. Shepard had had her skinned and parted out almost immediately, reserving a few choice cuts like Liara's breasts for herself and her new lover, but giving generously of the rest. Between EDI's Asari tentacle gumbo, Vega's ground Asari burgers, and the large leg that had been roasted two days ago, the smell of Liara's meat cooking seemed to fill the crew deck almost constantly and it tickled her senses even through her Suit's filtering whenever she went to visit Garrus in the central battery. Even girl talk in the port lounge wasn't immune from Liara's presence as she'd discovered talking to Samantha Traynor about her new relationship with the ship's captain. Unable to restrain her enthusiasm about a gift that Shepard had given her, Traynor had unzipped her top to show off her new Asari leather bra made from Liara's body. She seemed especially proud of how the placement of Liara's nipples matched her own exactly. She even had a matching pair of panties, Traynor explained.

With the constant reminder of just what had happened to Liara assaulting her from all sides, Tali's mind started to dwell more and more on the last time she'd seen her friend. Just how happy she'd been, the way that excitement had practically dripped from between her legs. But it wasn't just that that Tali was dwelling on, it was Javik's revelation that he used to eat quarians and his offer to turn her into Prothean cuisine. She even remembered Garrus' joking request that she let him try some 'prothean cuisine' for himself.

Was it any wonder then that Tali found herself making her way to Javik's room on the engineering deck during one of her breaks? She didn't intend to let the Prothean cook her, but, what harm would it do just to ask about how the Protheans used to cook her people?


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"Shadowcat, back off!" Wolverine's snarl turned into a grunt of pain as she lunged forward through her teammate's immaterial body to intercept the wraith's blow.

Magik's gauntlet closed around her girlfriend's arm and pulled her back. The Soulsword armor didn't care about things like tangibility. She pulled Kitty back and used the Soulsword to parry the next attack, sending the wraith reeling from the pain of the blade's touch. "Your training is just fouling you up, since these things can hit you." The short, slender, young blonde woman looked far more imposing, with her long hair cascading down a full suit of silver-white plate armor studded with spikes and horns. Her face was barely visible through the menacing helmet, but Kitty could see the concern in her eyes. The four-foot-long, ornate, gleaming broadsword did nothing to make her more comforting.

Kitty huffed and went where she was told, letting Magik and Wolverine handle the hideous extradimensional invaders. Every hit Laura took made Kitty gasp, though, and she could see how pale Illyana's face was getting. Her teammates were having a rough time, and there was nothing she could do. "Illy, can you portal them away? Dump them in some hell dimension?"

Magik paused and thought, then nodded. "Wolverine, buy me about fifteen seconds," she ordered.

Kitty always felt a little funny when her girlfriend used her "demon warlord" voice. Her dark blue jacket and tights happened to be good at concealing her stiffening nipples and her moistening crotch. With nothing to do for fifteen seconds but keep her hands to herself, the brown-haired woman sneaked a hand down to squeeze her mound while her teammates were distracted. Going on missions with her girlfriend always made her hot, but this was even worse than usual.

Laura's growl indicated what she thought of being left alone against five aliens that could shred her flesh while barely feeling her claws. Still, she dove in headfirst, lashing out with the claws on all four limbs. Muscular and fast, the new Wolverine looked a little like her predecessor if one were to squint really hard. The flashing claws emerging from her fists were matched by one on each foot, however, and the lightly-armored bodysuit clung to her large breasts and wide hips in ways that made Kitty pay attention as she never had to Logan. Her medium-length hair whipped around as she fought, as unruly as her "father's" hair in its own way.

Kitty covered her mouth to hide her gasp at the horrible wounds being inflicted on Wolverine. Her therapist had brought up the possibility that she was transferring some of her feelings regarding the first Wolverine onto the second one. She didn't know Laura that well, but how well had she ever really known Logan?

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A quick story I just had to write down. Comments and critique welcome. Enjoy!

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John smiled as a young, beautiful redhead entered his butcher shop.

”Hi,” she said shyly.

”Hello sweetie, what’s your name?”

”I’m Nora, I’m here for my processing. My number was drawn during the lottery this morning,” she answered, quite calm about it all.

”Nice to meet you Nora, I’m John and I’ll be your butcher this afternoon,” John said. “Listen, the shop closes in five minutes, why don’t you go wait in the back? And while you’re there, please remove your clothes. Just saves a bit of time, you know?”

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This is an excerpt from the introduction to Lami Pi Productions, still in progress.

Jackson was careful in serving only select clients who had their hands clean, with no criminal records or having any known connection to organized crime. On the other hand, having had many meetings with them and having served their human transportation needs for years, he was certain some of his clients were Mafia Dons.

After all, the slave trade, whether it be white or international cunts, would be a fundamental moneymaker for the Mafia, and Jackson was certain the mob controlled all of the areas where the quiet movement of humans would be valuable, such as prostitution and the production of violent and possibly deadly child pornography.

Two of his special customized containers bearing restrained and anaesthetized human cargo were due to arrive in San Francisco from the Philippines. They contained a fresh shipment of 48 beautiful young females of various ages, about half of the shipment consisting of delightful pre-teens, age 12 and younger.

His packers had informed him 6 of the girls were American, 18 were Europeans, all taken captive in either Manila or Jakarta. The remainder or the girls were classic young Pilipino beauties, several of them children as young as 6 years old. Jackson knew the consignment would end up at a private country club, one that with good reason privately referred to itself as the Cuntry Club.

Their destination would be at the Club’s private resort in the hills of Southern California, just over 100 miles northwest of Los Angeles. Jackson was familiar with the Club and its nefarious activities, as he had been a guest there at an event a couple of years ago, an educational experience in which he got to practice his horsemanship.

It was incredibly rare that anyone was ever invited to attend an event at the Cuntry Club, as it was necessarily very private, but because of the services he provided, Jackson had earned special standing with a couple of key members, including the Club’s president.

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Peephole

m/f, hanging, footplay, necrophilia, frottage

Even though he could easily afford to live elsewhere, Carl lived in an incredibly shitty neighborhood. Drug dealers and addicts alike roamed the cracked, weed-riddled streets in broad daylight. Despite always being left empty, his car was broken into on an almost monthly basis. Scarcely a night went by without loud sirens blaring in the early morning hours.

The apartment itself was shitty as well. The building was an old house that had been divided into a bunch of tiny one-room, one-bathroom studios. Carl’s was on the second story and there was one more on that level, two on the ground floor and one in the basement. The ancient wooden floors creaked at the slightest provocation. Hot showers rarely lasted for more than a minute. The walls were basically uninsulated and the house was always sweltering in the summer and freezing in the winter.

The house had had an attic but when the roof had leaked into it, years ago, the owned had decided to just tear it out rather than fix it up. The result was that the two second story apartments seemed incredibly spacious because of the high roof/ceiling. But the exposed rafter beams gave the apartment a dreary, industrial feel. And now, when the roof leaked during a storm, it did so directly into Carl’s apartment, prompting the use of strategically placed buckets.

Carl had originally come to live there when he was a dirt-poor undergrad, subletting the room for the summer from an acquaintance. The rent was insanely low and so, despite its flaws, he agreed to stay after the person he was subletting from said that they didn’t want to come back. He eventually graduated with a degree in Computer Science and quickly found a job in the city. He made almost six figures but he still lived in the dilapidated old house for one reason:

The peephole.


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