“Hush, hush,” mumbled Sam, still half asleep, holding her weeping lover tightly against her. “It was just a bad dream.”
“I know, but it was so real, Sam!” sobbed Vicky.
Sam’s eyes shot open and she pulled back from the woman in her arms. “Vicky!” she exclaimed. “Oh Vicky! Oh thank God!”
Beside her, Erin suddenly jerked and screamed. Then she opened her eyes, and sat bolt upright. “What the hell?” she exclaimed. “Vicky!”
“Oh, I’m so confused!” groaned Vicky. “Did last night happen, or not?”
Sam, partially submerged beneath the enormous mound of her poo (which seemed to have tripled in size overnight, struggled up to a sitting position, and then swung her legs out of bed. “Let’s check the news,” she said.
“I’ll call Mom,” said Erin. She picked up the phone and dialled her parents’ number.
Sam switched on the television and turned the channel to the local news. It was all about the disappearance of thirty-seven girls at St Winifred’s school. “Twenty hours later, there is still no word from the police officers who entered the hole in the wall,” Diane Segal was saying. “And police chief Ralph Lowell is reluctant to send in any more of his men.” The picture cut to an earlier interview with Chief Lowell.
“The feds are in charge now,” he said. “Let them risk their own personnel, if they want. But as far as I’m concerned, I’m missing four of my men – all good officers – and I’m not going to risk any more until I know more about what I’m dealing with here.”
“This will be of small comfort to the president, or indeed to the other parents of the girls who are missing,” continued Diane Segal, “but it is now looking more and more likely that the hole in the wall has something to do with their disappearance. The big question on everybody’s mind is: where does it lead to? Behind the wall is a stairwell, and there is no room for the view that people have been getting when they look into the hole. It is described as a long tunnel, made entirely of flesh, descending down a gentle slope into utter darkness. Not the kind of place you would want to explore unless lives were on the line. As indeed they are.”
“Looks like part of what we dreamed was true,” said Sam to Vicky. “But the whole demon invasion thing – that wasn’t real.”
“Good thing too!” said Vicky, shuddering. “Oh Sam – it was horrible! Did you dream about me being carried off by that demon?”
Sam nodded. “What happened after that?”
Vicky rubbed her face wearily, leaving streaks of poo on her cheek and forehead. “It took me to a dark alley and raped me,” she said. “Then it opened up a manhole and climbed down into the sewer, dragging me down with it. Once we were down there … oh Sam, the sewer was full of rats! And the demon tied me up and left me there … and the rats … they … they…” She burst into tears.
Sam went over and hugged Vicky. “Hush, it’s okay,” she said. “I’m sorry I fell asleep – I shouldn’t have done so in your house.” She looked up at the wall, where a charred crack had appeared overnight. “Come on – let’s take a shower.”
Erin put the phone down. “That was Mom,” she said. “She had the same dream too – and so did Laura.” She looked at Vicky and raised an eyebrow quizzically.
“Eaten alive by rats,” whispered Sam. Erin shuddered in disgust.
Sam and Erin showered first, so that they could get back home to get dressed for work. Meanwhile Vicky lay back in Sam’s poo (and not just Sam’s, for Erin had also defecated during the night) and masturbated for a while. The mound of poo was heaped over her pussy and legs, and partly over her belly, and she had to plunge her hand deep into the foul muck in order to reach her clitoris. The smell was terrible, yet she found the sensation of poo sliding over her pussy strangely erotic. On an impulse, as she approached orgasm she strained her bowels and forced out a poo of her own. She was defecating as she climaxed, and it was the most amazing feeling she had experienced yet.
After Sam and Erin had left, Vicky felt almost reluctant to extricate herself from under the mound of poo. But she was looking forward to seeing her lovers at work, so she made the effort, and washed herself thoroughly, inside and out, under the shower head. It took quite a while to get all the poo out of her cunt, but she was anxious not to court an infection … assuming she had not given herself one already.
It was after nine o’clock when she finally arrived at work, but nobody remarked on her lateness. She was wearing a nanoskirt from Mr Howell’s, along with a string-fronted thong and a top made of a very thin, gauzy material which moulded itself to the exact shape of her large breasts. She wore no bra, and the material was transparent, so her breasts were essentially on display. As she walked, her thong rubbing against her clitoris kept her in a heightened state of arousal, which she found quite delicious.
Toby was outraged. “Vicky, how could you?” he demanded.
“Sorry Toby,” said Vicky, hanging her head. “I just couldn’t stop myself.”
Toby sighed in exasperation. “Well in that case, the same applies to you as it does to Sam and Erin. Seek therapy – you might as well all go together. In the meantime, I’ve typed up a new dress code and emailed it to Lyle – if he approves it, it will become official and any breach will be grounds for dismissal.”
“I understand,” said Vicky. She went over to Erin’s desk, where the younger woman was dressed equally provocatively. “Hi Erin,” she said with a shy smile.
“Hi lover,” said Erin, grinning as she looked up at Vicky. “Wow – you look hot!” She reached out and stroked Vicky’s pussy.
Vicky wanted to pull back, to object, but it felt so nice… And, what with the arousal she was already feeling, she was soon shuddering in orgasm. Unable to help herself, she bent down and planted her lips squarely on Erin’s. The two French-kissed for a full half-minute, at which point they caught Amanda’s attention.
“Ugh! Get a room, you two!” she exclaimed. “And for heaven’s sake cover your ass, Vicky! I don’t want to see that thing mooning me from across the room!”
Sam, thoroughly aroused by the spectacle, watched from her own desk, her hand rubbing furiously at her own clitoris. Soon she was writhing in her chair, her body spasming in orgasmic ecstasy. As the glow wore off, she gradually opened her eyes and saw that she had a new email from Toby. Looking across at his office, she saw him glaring at her. Hurriedly she bent over her desk and looked at the email. It merely said, ‘Get help this week – or you’re out!’
For the next ten minutes she phoned around, and eventually found herself an appointment with a psychiatrist who had an opening at two o’clock that afternoon. She booked the session for all three of them, and then she told Erin and Vicky what she had done. She was somewhat surprised to discover that she was looking forward to the appointment.
Toby, meanwhile, was fuming. And it was not on account of Sam’s shameless display at her desk – which was, in truth, rather arousing – but because of the email he had just received from Lyle. It read ‘This dress code is too restrictive. Please amend and re-send.’ Toby felt he had been more than generous, and was surprised that Lyle would reject as too harsh a dress code that he considered quite permissive.
After re-reading the dress code several times, he printed it out and then went upstairs to see Lyle. Brandishing the print-out, he said, “Too restrictive? What do you mean, too restrictive? What’s too restrictive about it?”
“Well,” said Lyle, “I just think that you should allow the women in your office to express themselves with a bit more freedom. It’s not like they’re the public face of the company, after all – you should let them dress sexily if they want to.”
“But … have you completely lost your mind?” demanded Toby. “It sounds like you think there shouldn’t be a dress code at all!”
Lyle shrugged. “Well, I was thinking about this last night,” he said, “after a very nice meal at Bartoli’s. You should go there sometime – excellent food. Anyway, it occurred to me that as long as the girls are doing their jobs, why should we care what they wear?”
“But they’re not doing their jobs!” exclaimed Toby. “Yesterday they spent the entire morning cleaning up Sam’s poop!”
“Ah, but that didn’t have anything to do with their state of dress,” Lyle pointed out. “Sam’s accidents are a separate issue, which we are attempting to solve by means of a bucket.”
“Fair enough,” Toby conceded. “But it’s getting to Vicky now – she’s dressed like a slut too! I can’t have half my staff making the other half uncomfortable!”
“Have any of the others complained?” asked Lyle.
“Amanda complains all the time!” said Toby.
“How about Frank? And Thomas?”
“Well, they’re guys – obviously they love it,” said Toby irritably.
“So what you’re saying is, there’s only one person in the office who’s not okay with the state of dress your other three female employees?”
“Two!” said Toby. “I’m against it too!”
“On your own behalf, or on behalf of your employees?” asked Lyle.
Toby hesitated. “Well…” he began.
“Assuming nobody else in the office objected,” said Lyle, “for instance, if Amanda was okay with it, would you yourself be personally affected by what Sam, Erin and Vicky are wearing? Would it affect your work? Offend your delicate sensibilities?”
“Now hang on,” said Toby, getting red in the face, “I’m as broad-minded as the next man. But the office is a place for a certain … decorum. I can’t have my employees dressed like hookers – what if reps from another company were to come in and see them? We could lose customers that way!”
“You’ll know ahead of time about any such visits,” said Lyle, “and you can take appropriate steps as and when they happen. But under normal circumstances, would your work be affected by the women in your office being half-naked?”
“Well … yes!” said Toby desperately. “It might! I’m only human!”
Lyle nodded. “And Frank and Thomas? Is their work suffering?”
“Not that I’ve noticed,” Toby had to admit.
“So you have less self-control than your male underlings?” inquired Lyle. “Interesting.”
“No!” exclaimed Toby. “I can control myself just fine, thanks! You could have a troop of naked cheerleaders marching past my window all day if you like, and the quality of my output wouldn’t suffer a bit! I’m thinking of the good of the office!”
“Then why did you say your work would be affected?” asked Lyle.
Toby groaned and sank back into his chair. “What do you suggest, then?” he asked. “If Amanda decides that there’s a sexually-charged atmosphere in the office, she could sue the company!”
“A good point,” said Lyle. “Why don’t you send her to see me – I’ll try to tactfully gauge her feelings on the subject.”
“And if she makes a formal complaint?” asked Toby.
“Then we’ll deal with it,” said Lyle. “On the other hand, if she makes no complaint, I suggest that you let your other female employees wear whatever they like. They seem to be in the majority.”
Toby nodded. “Very well. But I don’t think you’ll convince Amanda to live with the current situation. I know she finds it intolerable.”
“We’ll see,” said Lyle.
Ten minutes later, Amanda entered. “You wanted to see me, Lyle?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Lyle. “Please sit down, Amanda.”
Amanda did so. “What’s this about?”
“Toby didn’t explain?” asked Lyle, puzzled.
Amanda shook her head. “Is it about the dress code?”
Lyle nodded. “Now that Vicky’s dressing like Sam and Erin, I wondered if perhaps the dress code wasn’t a lost cause. Toby wants it, but it’s obvious that Sam, Erin and Vicky don’t, and I’m sure Thomas and Frank couldn’t care one way or another. In fact I’m guessing they’re quite happy with the status quo. So my question to you is: well, what do you think?”
“What do I think?” repeated Amanda, raising an eyebrow. “I think the other women in the office are out of their minds, that’s what I think. This morning Vicky and Erin were making out in front of everybody, and yesterday Sam dropped a truckload of poop in Toby’s office, and Erin had to run to the bathroom with poop dropping out of her ass. It wouldn’t surprise me a bit if Vicky started doing that soon. And the way they dress! It’s like they’re born-again hookers or something.”
“So you would like to see an official dress code, under the provisions of which they would be fired for dressing the way they are today?” asked Lyle.
“Hey, don’t put words in my mouth,” said Amanda. “I never said any such thing. I couldn’t give a shit how they dress. I’m all for freedom of expression. I think their clothing is completely inappropriate, but it’s not in my nature to dictate how they should dress. I don’t want everyone to think there’s a dress code because Amanda Prieto insisted on it. If you want to make an official dress code, that’s fine with me. If not, that’s fine too. But leave me out of it.”
“All right,” said Lyle. “I’m still toying with the idea of enforcing a dress code, but I want to make sure I am fully conversant with everyone’s opinions on the subject. Now if, and I stress if, we were to institute a dress code, I think the other women would be happier if it involved skirts. Now tell me, how would you feel about switching to wearing skirts?”
“See now this is why I don’t like dress codes,” said Amanda. “We had one at the catholic school where I went as a child, and it sucked! We had to wear skirts, never pants or shorts, and I hated it.”
“But why?” asked Lyle in surprise. “I’m sure you’d look great in a skirt!”
Amanda chuckled. “Are you allowed to say that?” she asked. Then she shrugged. “Old habits die hard, Lyle. These days I’m just more comfortable in pants or shorts.”
“But you no longer have any real objection to wearing a skirt?” asked Lyle.
“Not as such,” said Amanda guardedly. “What are you getting at, Lyle? Because if you’re suggesting a dress code which outlaws pants and shorts, I’ll be dead against that.”
“Not at all,” said Lyle. “I’d just like to encourage you to wear skirts instead of pants. If I can’t get you to do that voluntarily, then I won’t force you.”
“But why?” asked Amanda, mystified. “Why should you care, now, about me wearing pants?”
Lyle smiled. “Well, I just happen to find skirts a little more becoming…”
Amanda’s jaw dropped. “Lyle, are you telling me you’d get a kick out of seeing me in a skirt?”
Lyle’s smile broadened. “You’re a very attractive woman, Amanda,” he said, “as I’m sure you’re aware. Yes, it would be very nice to see you in a skirt.”
Amanda blushed, despite herself. But she could not let Lyle get away with this behaviour. “You’re a naughty man, Lyle,” she said. “Aren’t you married?”
“Separated,” said Lyle, wincing slightly. “As of last week.”
“Oh – I’m sorry,” said Amanda, feeling a little awkward. “But good heavens, man – you may now be unattached, but I’m a happily-married woman!”
Lyle chuckled. “Well yes, I know, and that’s why I wouldn’t actually try anything on with you. But it sure would be nice to see you in a skirt. Especially a nice short one.”
Amanda could hardly believe her ears. She was flattered, though. “You know I don’t have the best legs in the world, right?”
Lyle had seen them, the previous summer when Amanda had worn shorts to work for weeks on end. The woman was being way too modest. “Your legs are gorgeous, Amanda,” he told her. “You should really show them off more often. Especially now that the weather’s getting really warm.”
Amanda blushed again. “Well, if the director of my department insists, perhaps I could see what’s in the closet…”
“I’ll tell you what,” said Lyle. “Why don’t you go out and buy yourself something, on my company credit card. Get a whole new outfit. Two, if you like.” He pulled out his credit card and passed it to her. “Then come back here and show me what you’ve got.”
Amanda took the card a little nervously. “Okay,” she said. Then she shook her head. “God knows what my husband’s going to think of this.”
“I’m sure he’ll be glad to see his wife looking so sexy,” said Lyle with a smile.
“He might, at that,” admitted Amanda. “Very well.” She got up and left the office, returning downstairs to her own desk. For a few moments she mulled over her conversation with Lyle, then she looked up and said, “Hey Erin – do you know any good clothes shops near here?”
****************
Earlier that morning, Danny and Laura had arrived at school to find it swarming with police. They were not allowed to enter. “I’m sorry, the school’s closed today,” said one of the officers. “We had some complaints yesterday – we’re checking for evidence.”
“So what do we do now?” asked Danny, as they walked away from the front gate.
“We could go and get some more new clothes,” suggested Laura.
Danny’s eyes lit up. “Excellent idea!” he said. “I can’t wait to see you try on some more skimpy outfits.”
“I can’t wait to try them on,” said Laura with a smile. She was wearing a dress her mother had shortened for her the previous evening – it exposed a couple of inches of her buttocks, and most of her chest, but she was longing to push the envelope some more. This frightened her as much as it excited her. What had she become?
As they waited at the bus stop, she realised she needed to poop. In fact she quite badly needed to poop. She clenched her buttocks, or at least she tried to, but instead she found herself pushing. “Oh no, not this again!” she muttered.
“What?” asked Danny.
Laura desperately tried clenching both her anus and her buttocks, but merely succeeded in forcing a few inches of a large poo out of her rectum. It hit silk and made a bulge that would be visible to anyone behind her. A rush of pleasure flooded outward from her anus and she found herself panting. “I’m pooping!” she whispered to her brother.
“Really?” Danny peered around behind her. “Oh my goodness!” he said. “So you are! Well, can’t you stop?”
“No,” Laura wailed miserably as she continued to expel the poo into her panties. It felt heavenly, but she was in a public place! This was so embarrassing … yet so erotic… She reached down and started rubbing her clitoris as her breath came in gasps.
“Uh, Laura!” said Danny nervously, looking around at the people around them who were staring with shocked expressions at the shameless young girl masturbating while messing herself. Then, to Danny’s relief, the bus arrived. “Come on Laura,” he said. Then, when she did not move, he said, “Hurry!”
But Laura was incapable of moving. Lost in her own little world of ecstasy, she felt light-headed and weak, bathing in an aura of intense pleasure. She was delighting in the sensation of the poo sliding inexorably out of her rectum, caressing her anal sphincter as it formed a growing pile in her panties. “Oh God!” she exclaimed. It had to be God, making her feel this good.
“Laura!” exclaimed Danny urgently. “The bus will leave without us if we don’t get on now!”
“You go,” muttered Laura. “I’ll meet you there.”
Sighing with exasperation, Danny jumped aboard the bus and flashed his pass at the driver. He looked guiltily back to where Laura was still standing with her eyes closed and a look of bliss on her face. Then the bus started moving, and he soon lost sight of her.
Laura was on the brink of orgasm, and had been for half a minute or more. But no matter how fast or hard she rubbed her clitoris, she could not push herself over the edge. Frustrated, she pushed her poo harder, so that her already bulging panties were pushed away from her bottom by the next few inches of poo. They were sagging low on her buttocks now, and what seemed like a delightful thought occurred to her: if she could push a little more poo out, perhaps her panties would fall down!
Just then she felt a hand on her shoulder, and she thought it must be Danny. “Just a minute!” she said crossly.
“Please come with me, ma’am,” said a male voice that was not Danny’s.
Laura’s eyes snapped open, and her orgasm flitted away into oblivion as she saw a stern-looking policeman standing in front of her. The colour drained from her face as the full horror hit her of what other people must have been seeing these last few minutes.
“Oh no!” she exclaimed. “I’m sorry officer – it was an accident!”
“Uh, yeah, well you can explain that in your statement,” said the officer. “Right now you’re coming with me.”
Another officer was standing behind the first. Laura found herself being marched between them to a police car that was parked nearby. “Oh my goodness!” she said to herself in despair.
“What are we going to do about her … accident?” asked the second officer in distaste.
“We can’t dump it out in the street,” said the first. “Spread out a blanket in the back – she can sit on that.”
The second policeman doubled up the blanket and laid it on the back seat, then Laura climbed in and sat down gingerly. Her poo – an unusually large quantity for her, if not a record – squished outwards, cradling her buttocks and spreading forward along her pussy, where her tapering gusset completely failed to contain the mess.
The police officers drove her to the station, where she was finger-printed and photographed. To her utter humiliation, her bottom, with her poo-filled panties plastered to it, was also photographed. Then she was taken to a toilet and told to clean up. She had to throw away her panties. Her father was called and, an hour after she had arrived at the station, he picked her up. She had been dreading his reaction, but he was surprisingly non-judgmental about the incident.
“You’re lucky they were willing to let you off with a warning,” he said. “Silly girl – couldn’t you have found a more private place to do something like that?”
“I’m sorry Dad – it just came over me … I didn’t know what I was doing!”
“Ah well – it can’t be helped now,” he said. “And I’m sure the embarrassment was punishment enough. Where can I drop you? You said the school’s closed today?”
“Yes. Could you drop me in front of Mr Howell’s Clothing Emporium?”
“Where’s that? You’ll have to direct me.”
Soon the car was pulling up outside Mr Howell’s shop, and she got out of the car. Several wolf whistles greeted the exposure of her naked pussy to the nearby pedestrians. “Love you Dad,” she said, blowing her father a kiss. Then she turned and hurried into the store. As she entered, she passed a rather flushed-looking woman wearing a very tight, very short denim skirt and a thin, almost transparent bra-top. Ignoring her, Laura made her way towards the back of the store, where Mr Howell was seeing to a couple of girls she thought she recognised from her school. Not wishing them to see her, she watched discreetly from behind a rack of minidresses while at the same time glancing about the shop in search of her brother.
Both girls were soon enticed out of their clothes, then they got their pussies shaved and rubbed with depilatory cream. Half an hour later, they left with several bags of skimpy clothing between them, and wearing skirts that failed to cover their buttocks. Laura grinned as she watched them leave, then she hurried out from her hiding place and caught up to Mr Howell. “Excuse me,” she said. “Mr Howell. Have you seen my brother?”
“Your brother?” inquired Mr Howell.
Laura’s cheeks immediately reddened. “I mean my boyfriend – the boy who was with me on Saturday. We’re so close I sometimes call him my brother even though he’s not. I don’t have a brother, you see, and it’s sometimes nice to pretend that he’s my brother, even though he’s my boyfriend. And not really my brother.”
“He was here earlier,” said Mr Howell, “but he left.”
“Oh,” said Laura, crestfallen.
“Would you like to try something on?” asked Mr Howell, “or do you need your brother here as a chaperone?”
“Boyfriend,” Laura corrected him.
“Boyfriend, yes,” said Mr Howell with just the barest quirk of a lip.
“Um, well, the truth is my b…boyfriend has the money,” said Laura. “I don’t have any money with me.”
“I’ll put it on your tab,” said Mr Howell. “Laura Moss, isn’t it?”
“That’s right,” said Laura. “I didn’t know I had a tab.”
“I’ll start one,” said Mr Howell. “I’ve a feeling you’ll be back. Once a customer of Mr Howell, always a customer of Mr Howell. That’s generally the way it goes.”
“I can believe it,” said Laura. “So, um, well that’s wonderful. Yes, I’d love to try something on. I didn’t get any thongs last time I was here, so I’d like to try some thongs please. And some of your shortest, most revealing skirts and dresses. I’d like to be as naked as possible without being naked.”
Mr Howell positively leered at this. “My kind of customer,” he said. “Please undress in the changing area.”
Laura wasted no time in disrobing completely. For ten minutes she stood in the changing area, naked, while Mr Howell picked out some clothes for her to try on. When he returned he gave her a beatific smile. “Such a lovely young girl,” he said. “Well, shall we start with some thongs?”
Laura nodded eagerly, and then stared in surprise at the first garment he offered her. It consisted of a couple of smooth, soft, pink latex objects about the size and shape of lemons. From out of the top of each ‘lemon’ came a very short length of white elastic string, the other ends of which attached to opposite sides of a large loop of the same kind of string.
“This is a thong?” asked Laura, puzzled.
“Indeed it is,” said Mr Howell. “Step into the loop and pull it up.”
Holding a lemon in each hand, Laura bent down and stuck first one foot, and then the other, into the central loop of the strange garment. She then stood up again, pulling up the lemons until the loop was around her waist. Mr Howell then came forward and took the lemons from her. “Here,” he said, “let me help. Please bend over the chair.”
Laura walked a couple of paces forward and bent over, placing her hands on the seat of the chair on which she had placed her clothes.
“Now spread your feet apart,” said Mr Howell.
Laura complied, a little nervously. Mr Howell now rotated the loop so that one lemon was in front of her and the other was behind her. Then he squirted something on to his fingers and slipped them between her buttocks. Laura gasped as she felt something cold and wet against her anus, and then she squealed as she felt two of Mr Howell’s fingers slide up into her rectum.
“Mr Howell!” she exclaimed in shock.
“I’m just lubricating you,” said Mr Howell, “so that the pleasure nodes slip in more easily.”
“Pleasure nodes?” inquired Laura. Then she gasped again as Mr Howell removed his fingers and started pushing one of the lemons against her anus.
“No! Mr Howell, no!” exclaimed Laura. “It’s too big!”
“Just relax,” said Mr Howell, “and it will go in more easily.”
Laura relaxed, and in fact bore down a little, and slowly the lemon, or ‘pleasure node’ as she supposed she should call it, slid into her anus. Then, with a little ‘pop’, it was inside her rectum and her anus closed up around the narrow string now protruding from it. Mr Howell now began rubbing lubricant into her vagina, and Laura could not help thinking that he was spending an unnecessarily long time probing around inside her with his fingers. He was also sliding them in and out rather more rhythmically than she would have expected … not that it didn’t feel nice, but she was keen to get on with trying on more clothes. She was also not quite sure how many fingers he had inside her – it felt like just one, but it also felt too wide to be just one. It was puzzling. After a couple of minutes, she had almost made up her mind to say something, when the thrusting suddenly increased in frequency (which felt very nice), there was a little stifled gasp behind her, and then the fingers, or finger, was removed. The other pleasure node was then placed at the opening of her vagina, and she winced as it was gently pushed in. With another ‘pop’, it was inside her, and then suddenly she gasped as the node in her anus began to vibrate.
“There,” said Mr Howell. “Why don’t you have a look at yourself in the mirror?”
“It’s vibrating!” she exclaimed.
“Indeed,” said Mr Howell with a smile. “With no battery either – it takes its energy directly from your body heat. It will continue to vibrate as long as it is inside you. The one in your vagina will start vibrating too, once it has warmed up a little.”
Laura took a look at herself in the mirror. The loop of string was riding fairly high on her hips, but at the front it was pulled way down by the shortness of the string attached to the pleasure node in her cunt. The loop met the node string at a point just above her clitoris, so that almost her entire clitoral hood was exposed, yet her clit was still going to be rubbed constantly as she walked. Turning around, she saw that the back of the loop plunged down into her butt cleavage, and joined with the rear node string just before it disappeared from view between her buttocks.
Then the pleasure node in her vagina started to vibrate, and she sank to her knees in a toe-curling orgasm. “Oh God!” she exclaimed. “This thong is the best thing ever!”
“It is becoming one of our more popular items,” said Mr Howell pleasantly. “For reasons of hygiene I must insist that, having tried it on, you buy it.”
“Okay!” gasped Laura. “But I don’t know how much more I can take of this – if I keep it in much longer I think I might explode!”
“I somehow think that unlikely,” said Mr Howell. “But by all means remove it if you wish – I have brought other underwear for you to try on.”
“Oh?” said Laura. “Nice and … oh my God! … skimpy?” She bore down again, pushing hard to expel the node in her anus. It popped free and she caught it in her hand. It was still vibrating. Then she gently pulled on the front node string until the other node popped out of her vagina. It was a good thing the string was strong, she reflected – if it had broken she was not sure how she would have got the node out of her cunt. Now what on Earth was that white stuff dripping from it…?
“I have here our very skimpiest underwear,” said Mr Howell. “This is called the ‘zero’.”
Laura stepped out of the double-node thong and took the next garment from Mr Howell. This was a single loop of string with a tiny U-shaped plastic hook attached at one side. “How the heck do I wear this?” she asked.
“Step into the string,” Mr Howell instructed her. She did so, and pulled it up to her waist. “Now,” said Mr Howell, taking hold of the little hook and pulling it around to the front. “This just clips down … here.” As he spoke, he pulled the front of the thong down, and hooked the piece of plastic to the front of her clitoral hood, letting it slide snugly into place. When he let go, the elasticity of the loop pulled the hook up slightly, drawing back the hood so that her clitoris was exposed.
“Oh my God! This is underwear?” inquired Laura, staring at herself in the mirror. What a ridiculous garment – it didn’t even qualify as a thong, no part of it actually went between her legs.
“It certainly is,” said Mr Howell. “Best worn with tight-fitting shorts, though, so that your exposed clitoris will rub against the material as you walk.”
“Oh,” said Laura, a little disappointed. “But I don’t want to wear shorts. I just want to wear little skirts and dresses that don’t cover my pussy.”
“You can still wear this with skirts and dresses,” said Mr Howell, smiling serenely. “You’ll just be exposing your clitoris as well as your pussy.”
Laura nodded. “I like that,” she said. “I’ll take a couple. Now, what else have you got for me?”
“Just this – a single node zero,” said Mr Howell. He held up a loop of string which had just one node attached by a short string of its own. “Simple concept – the loop goes around your waist and you can wear the node either in your pussy or your ass, depending on whether you want the thong part going between your buttocks or your labia.”
Laura smiled. “I’ll take a couple of those, too,” she said.
“Excellent,” said Mr Howell, pleased. “Now, I have some bras here…”
Laura shook her head. “No bras,” she said. “I’ve decided not to wear them any more.”
Mr Howell tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Yet,” he said, “they’re better for your breasts. Eventually you’ll find them sagging if you’ve spent too much time braless. I have here a couple of extremely comfortable bras with completely transparent cups – made of a perforated plastic film, you know – they’ll give you adequate support while not covering up anything at all. And the perforations will allow your skin to breathe.”
“That does sound good,” admitted Laura. “All right, I’ll take three of those. Now how about skirts and dresses?”
“Aha!” said Mr Howell, smiling broadly. “Here is a dress I think you’re going to love.” He handed her a very flimsy-looking garment, which Laura pulled on over her head. Tugging it down into place she admired herself in front of the mirror.
It was pale blue in colour, and so thin as to be almost transparent – in fact it looked more like a negligee than a dress. It stopped halfway down her pussy, and thus failed to cover her exposed clitoris, which she was very pleased about. “I love it,” she said happily. “What else have you got?” She took the dress off and held it out to the old man.
“Try this,” he said, giving her a very lightweight piece of what looked almost like folded Kleenex. “But be very careful with it – it’s very delicate.”
Laura gently unfolded it and then very carefully pulled it on. It was a white dress, made of single-ply tissue paper and rather transparent. It almost covered her pussy, but failed to cover her buttocks by about two inches. “When this gets wet…” she said.
“It will plaster itself to your body and go completely transparent,” said Mr Howell cheerfully. “And when you move, it will start tearing in various places, and if it continues to get rained on it will pretty much dissolve.”
“Wow,” said Laura, her eyes wide at the thought. “I’ll take it!”
Mr Howell helped her out of it, then he handed her yet another dress. This one was pink, and backless, and sideless, and almost frontless. A network of fine threads held it together, but they looked as if they could break at any time. Small oval sections of lacy material covered each nipple, but not much else, while a larger lace section covered her pussy. At the back, a narrow vertical strip covered part of the crack of her bottom, but the hem of the dress was still a full three inches above the lower curves of her buttocks.
“Silly dress,” she said, “but nice. I’ll take this too.”
In the end she decided to wear the pale blue negligee-dress home, with the ‘zero’ beneath. She was incredibly horny – she could hardly wait for Danny to fuck her again. Ignoring the stares and comments from people around her, she happily made her way to the bus stop.
****************
Amanda Prieto knocked on Lyle’s door, and entered, feeling rather nervous. She had intended to get a short-ish skirt so that she could both please Lyle and surprise the others in her office, but she had certainly not intended to get a skirt this short. That funny old man in the clothing emporium – how had he persuaded her again? And shaving her! In a public place! Where anyone could have walked in on her! And had done, twice! She shivered. It had been embarrassing, certainly, but Mr Howell had treated it like a normal, everyday occurrence, and so somehow she had been able to shrug it off. But she would never go back to that awful place, that was for sure. She was amazed the old man had not been sued, if that was how he treated his customers. She really ought to sue him herself. But then, why had she not run away, or even objected? Well, she had objected, in fact – it just had not done any good…
Lyle looked up as she entered, and his jaw dropped half a mile. “Wow!” he exclaimed. “Amanda, I’d never have thought it of you – well done!” He beamed. “You look sensational.”
“Yeah, well, I feel naked,” said Amanda uncomfortably. “This skirt barely covers my ass.”
“I somehow think you won’t look out of place in your office,” chuckled Lyle.
“True,” she admitted. “Next to Sam and Erin, and now Vicky, this still seems fairly conservative. Apart from the visible nipples.” She looked down at her small chest and frowned.
“Come here and let me look at you,” said Lyle.
Rather reluctantly, Amanda walked around to Lyle’s side of the desk, feeling increasingly uncomfortable as he stared brazenly at her nipples. She stopped in front of him, standing awkwardly with her hands by her sides.
“Now turn around,” said Lyle.
Slowly she turned, until she was facing away from him. Then she gasped as she felt his fingers running along the underside of her buttocks. “Stop that!” she said in alarm.
“Wow, this skirt only just covers your ass, doesn’t it?” remarked Lyle. “Very nice! I bet if you bend over even slightly, I’ll be able to see your buttocks.”
“Yes, well that’s not going to happen, is it?” said Amanda. “And stop stroking my bottom, please!”
Lyle grinned. “You’re wearing a thong! How delightful. Turn and face the desk please.”
“What for?” asked Amanda nervously as she turned towards the desk.
“Now bend right over, so that your upper body is lying on the desk,” said Lyle. He pulled the gusset of her thong to one side and slid one finger between her labia.
“Lyle! I’m a married woman!” exclaimed Amanda in a fierce whisper.
“Then you’re a very naughty girl for letting me do this,” said Lyle sternly. “And you need to be punished. Bend over!”
Amanda slowly bent over the desk, wondering at the same time why she was doing so. Lyle seemed to be exerting some strange power over her. The man was handsome, certainly, and she’d always had something of a crush on him … but she loved her husband and could never betray him… “I’m sorry Rob,” she whispered as she felt her thong being pulled down to her knees.
Lyle pointed his monstrous fifteen-inch penis at Amanda’s shaven pussy, and rubbed the tip until a squirt of green pre-cum splattered over her labia. Then he eased his erection into her vagina, and buried it as far as it would go.
Unable to summon the willpower to resist, Amanda suddenly realised that she did not want to. “Oh Lyle…” she whispered.
“Now,” said Lyle, grunting a little with the effort of fucking her, “about that dress code. I think I will institute one after all. I think I shall insist that all the women in your department wear tiny little skirts. How do you feel about that?”
“Good idea!” said Lyle. His thrusting increased in frequency as he approached his climax, and then he groaned as he emptied a pint of green slime into Amanda’s womb. As he pulled out, the slime gushed out of Amanda’s cunt and formed a puddle on the floor. Lyle tucked his wilting penis back into his trousers, and then he opened his desk drawer and took out a pair of scissors. “Before you go back to your office,” he said, “I’d like you to shorten your skirt a bit. I think you ought to be showing at least part of your ass at all times.”
“Yes sir,” said Amanda, taking the scissors. A little awkwardly, she cut through the skirt an inch or so above the hem, and scissored all the way around until a wide strip of denim dropped to the floor. Then she pulled up her thong – it was not string-fronted, but it was very narrow and a great deal of her pussy lips was showing. “Will that be all, sir?” she asked.
Lyle grinned. “Yes, Amanda. Now go back to Toby and tell him you’re in full support of a dress code that prohibits the wearing of clothes that completely cover the buttocks.”
Amanda nodded. “I will, sir.” Then she turned and left.
Great was the surprise of everyone else in the office when she entered. Erin, Sam and Vicky were all delighted by her transformation, and all three of them gave her a big hug and a kiss. Frank and Thomas stared unabashedly at her nipples, buttocks and barely-concealed pussy. Toby, when he came out of his office to investigate the commotion, nearly had a fit.
“What the hell?” he demanded. “Amanda, if there was one person I thought I could count on to support me in my campaign for a dress code, it was you! And now look at you!”
“I know,” said Amanda, rather shame-facedly. “But Lyle talked me into it. I’m afraid he’s going to recommend a dress code that prohibits the wearing of clothes that completely cover the buttocks. And I have to tell you that I’m going to support it.”
Toby was aghast. “But why?” he asked desperately.
Amanda shrugged. “Lyle’s pretty persuasive.”
Toby stared at her for a moment, then he threw up his hands in despair. “Fine!” he said. “I give up. Wear whatever the hell you like.”
“Thank you!” said Erin, who was standing closest to him. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the lips.
“Steady on!” said Toby, easing her away from him. Then, shaking his head, he turned and went back into his office.
Sam and Erin hi-fived each other, and giggled. Then Erin took off her top and skirt, and sat down at her desk in just a string-fronted thong. Sam returned to her own desk, where she had earlier defecated into the bucket Toby had brought in that morning. The bucket had not been nearly large enough, of course, and plenty of poo had spilled over the top and was piled high above the rim. She called Vicky over.
“Vicky,” she said, “would you mind helping me carry this down to the dumpster?”
“Sure,” said Vicky, eyeing the bucket with distaste. She took off her top and skirt. “Wouldn’t want to get these messy!”
“Good idea,” said Sam, and she too removed all her clothing apart from her thong and shoes. Together they lifted up the bucket, and then carried it between them to the elevator. Down in the lobby, they were met with cries of indignation and disgust, but nobody stuck around long enough for a detailed explanation, which they tried to give whenever asked. By the time they returned upstairs with the empty bucket, they were giggling like schoolgirls.
“That was fun!” said Vicky. “Did you see the looks on everyone’s faces?”
“I know!” said Sam. “Well, there’s still a lot of poo on the floor by my desk – once I’ve loaded it into the bucket we can do this again.”
“Okay!” said Vicky. Then she frowned, looking at Sam’s belly. “Are you pregnant again?”
Sam looked down at her slightly bulging abdomen. “Looks like it!” she said cheerfully. “So is Erin, probably.”
They washed the poo off their breasts and arms, and returned to their desks. Neither woman bothered putting her clothes back on, and Toby did not bother to object.
“They’ve found those missing girls,” said Amanda suddenly, having just seen the headline at CNN’s website. As she read the article, she added, “They walked out of that hole in the wall about an hour ago – naked apparently, and all very upset.”
“That’s good,” said Sam, relieved. She had been feeling rather guilty about causing the disappearance of the president’s daughter. Now she felt a lot better.
****************
Allie Moss had been driving for an hour. She was not sure where she was driving to, but the urge had come upon her to get into her car and drive, and so here she was, several miles outside the city, following her nose. On an impulse she turned off the highway and headed north for a while. As she crested a low hill, she saw a lake filling the valley ahead. Under the clear sky it looked delightfully blue and inviting.
As she approached the lake, she noticed that hundreds of cars were parked along both sides of the road. Eventually she found a space large enough for her car, and here she parked. Getting out, she wandered down to the water’s edge and saw, to her surprise, lots of women swimming in the shallows. She was even more surprised to realise that she knew most of them from church. Little piles of clothes dotted the shoreline.
“Babs!” she said, spying one of her closest friends. “What’s going on?”
“You tell me!” said Babs, sculling lazily along on her back. She appeared to be naked. “I’m not sure what brought me out here, but I just couldn’t resist this lovely water. You should come on in – it’s fabulous!”
Allie shrugged. “Okay – it does look nice. But I didn’t bring a costume.”
“Neither did we,” said Ruth, another of her friends. “But don’t be shy – it’s just us women here. Nice skirt by the way – I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in one that short. I can even see your panties!”
Allie smiled and blushed as she took off her clothes. When she had slipped off her panties, she stepped into the water and found it pleasantly cool and refreshing. She waded out until the water was up to her chest, and then she started swimming. “You’re right,” she said. “This is lovely!”
Something soft and round slipped out of her vagina, but she paid it no heed. A few minutes later, a second object popped out of her, and she could not help wondering whether her friends were experiencing something similar. She did not want to ask, however, for fear of seeming weird.
“Doesn’t this reservoir supply water to the city?” asked Carol, a young woman in her early thirties.
“I think so,” said another woman whom Allie did not recognise.
Other women were now arriving. “How’s the water?” asked one. “What are you all doing here?” asked another. Pretty soon there were over a hundred swimmers enjoying the cool water.
Half an hour later, they began to leave. Allie stayed for a while longer – those soft egg things were still slipping out of her vagina every few minutes. After another twenty minutes, however, when none remained of the women who had been in the water when she arrived, no more eggs were coming out, and she suddenly started to feel chilly. She got out of the water, leaving forty women still swimming, and put her clothes back on. She walked back to her car, got in, and drove home.
Inside, she climbed the stairs and then paused on the landing, frowning. What was that sound? It seemed to be coming from Laura’s room. She tiptoed over to Laura’s door, which was open a crack. Pushing it a little further open, she stuck her head in to see what was going on.
Laura was on the bed on her hands and knees, naked. Danny, also naked, was kneeling behind her and slamming his penis in and out of her rectum. A moment later he said, “I’m about to cum!” and he pulled his cock out of her anus before shoving it into her vagina. Then, after a couple more thrusts, he shuddered and gasped. Green fluid poured out of Laura’s cunt around the shaft of Danny’s erection, and formed a pool on the sheet, which the ubiquitous cockroaches immediately began to feast upon.
“Thank you Danny, my sweet love!” panted Laura, collapsing on to her front. Roaches swarmed all over her. “Thank you so much!”
Allie withdrew silently and sighed to herself. How quickly her babies were growing up!
The telephone rang, and she went through to her bedroom to answer it. “Hello?” she said.
“Oh thank goodness Allie, I’ve been trying to reach you for ages.”
“Hannah?” said Allie, recognising her sister’s voice. “What’s up?”
“This is going to sound really weird, but last night I had this crazy dream, and you were in it.
“That doesn’t sound so weird,” said Allie. She sat down, and cockroaches started climbing on to her.
“The weird part is, Brooke and Rachel had the same dream! Exactly the same! And there’s more. When we awoke, there were these strange cracks in the wall, in all three of our rooms. We’d dreamed about them – we’d dreamed horrible things, about the cracks leading to disgusting tunnels which lead into Hell. All three of us were kidnapped and tortured … I can’t even begin to describe the horrible things which happened to us!”
“Wow!” said Allie. “That’s awful! But it doesn’t surprise me – we dreamed the same thing, you see. Me, and Laura, and Erin, and Erin’s friend Sam.”
“You did? So what on Earth is going on?” Hannah sounded very distressed.
“Well,” said Allie, “Those cracks in the wall are, I think, gateways to Hell. They’ll continue to give you horrible nightmares, I’m afraid, if you sleep in the same house with them.”
“So what should we do?”
“You could sleep in a motel tonight,” suggested Allie. “See if that works. Or go to a friend’s house.”
“Okay, we’ll try that. Thanks Allie.”
“Don’t mention it,” said Allie. “Bye Hannah.” She put the phone down and shivered as she felt a cockroach worm its way into her panties. So last night’s dream had been more than a dream, had it? How bizarre…
****************
That evening the news was full of strange stories. Sam and Erin had arrived home and were now sitting on the couch in just their thongs, while Laura was naked and sitting on her brother’s lap, with his penis buried up to the hilt in her rectum. Allie was wearing a t-shirt and panties, and she was delighted to find that her husband could not keep his hands off her. As they watched the news, he had his hand in her panties, with two fingers inside her cunt.
“New cockroach infestations are being reported all over the city,” a location reporter was saying. “We talked to Brian Coulson, the owner of a local pest control company.” The camera switched to a taped interview.
“We’re booked solid right through September,” said Brian, a slim forty-ish man wearing a t-shirt that bore the legend ‘Pests-R-Us’. “We can’t cope with the demand. We’re taking on additional staff right now, but our phones are ringing off the hook with new business. It’s a complete epidemic!”
“Rats are also on the move, it seems, coming out of the sewers and even out of the basements to infest the kitchens, bathrooms and bedrooms of the city’s residents. Earlier we talked to Jane Sternberg.” Again the camera switched to a taped street interview.
“I woke up this morning to find a rat on my face!” said a young woman indignantly. “I’d have called the pest company but the rats seem to be eating the roaches, and I can’t get anyone to come and get rid of the roaches for seven weeks! How am I going to survive for seven weeks with roaches in my bed? And they get everywhere – and I mean everywhere!”
“They do,” confirmed Sam. “There are several inside me right now.”
“Me too,” said Allie. “I imagine we all have cockroaches inside us.”
“Not me!” retorted Danny.
“I mean us women,” said Allie.
“I’ve certainly got a few inside me,” said Laura.
“The question is,” said Mr Moss, still finger-fucking his wife, “what are we going to do about our roach problem?”
“Hiring someone to get rid of them doesn’t seem to be much of an option right now,” said Allie.
“Perhaps we could get some rats in,” suggested Erin. “That lady on the news said that her rats were eating the cockroaches.”
“Good idea,” said Mr Moss. “But where do we get hold of some rats?”
“There are lots over in my old apartment,” said Sam. “I could go over there and collect some.”
“Splendid,” said Mr Moss, pleased. “Would you mind doing that this evening?”
“Not at all,” said Sam. “Oh, but … oh no!”
Allie sat forward eagerly. “Are you having an accident, dear?” she asked.
“Yes!” replied Sam shame-facedly. “I’m sorry!”
“Don’t worry about it,” said Allie. “I’ll clean it up later. You just finish going on the couch.”
On the smaller couch, Mr Moss was getting more and more frisky. He pushed his wife into a lying position, then he pulled her panties off. As he freed his now-huge erection from the confines of his slacks and spread his wife’s legs wide apart, Allie looked around nervously. “Uh, dear – the kids!”
“They’re all adults now … or nearly,” he said, and he plunged his cock into her cunt.
“Aww, Mom! Dad!” complained Danny, looking across at them.
“Don’t be a hypocrite!” Allie shot back. “I see you screwing your sister over there.”
Laura and Danny both blushed crimson at this. Mr Moss looked startled. “What?” he said.
“Oh shut up and fuck me,” said Allie, wrapping her legs around his back.
Sam and Erin stared at them, and then at Laura and Danny, who were now making no secret of their liaison. Laura was bouncing up and down on her brother’s penis, crying “Fuck me Danny! Fuck me Danny!”
Sam raised herself up off the couch so that her poo could come out more freely. Over the next five minutes, while Erin’s family continued to have sex either side of her, she gradually built up an enormous pile of poo which covered most of the space between the two arms of the couch, and which finished up being well over a foot in height.
Erin looked at it thoughtfully. “I guess we should go then,” she said.
Sam chuckled. “Want to lie in it?” she asked. “I can go on my own if you like.”
Erin shook her head. “No – there’s no telling what we’ll find there now. We’d better go together.”
They did not bother to get dressed – they merely took their purses and left the house wearing just their thongs. They fetched an old bird cage that was languishing unused in the garage, and then they got into Erin’s car. As they drove across town, Sam said, “You know, if what’s-her-name Woodridge … the president’s daughter … infects the White House, I think the United States as we know it will very shortly cease to exist. Think of the legislation that’s going to occur … within days probably.”
Erin nodded. “It’s scary … or should be. Yet I find I can’t bring myself to be too upset about it. Why is that?”
“You’re having too much fun?” inquired Sam with a smile.
“No … I think it’s part of the infection – a symptom,” said Erin. “I find I can think rationally enough, but my feelings about things are totally up the wall.”
“Yes, that does seem to be a symptom,” agreed Sam. “Mordelus and his friends seem to be very good at what they do.”
They arrived at the apartment, and rather nervously took the elevator up to Sam’s floor. Sam paused, key in one hand and cage in the other, before the door to the apartment, and said, “Well, here goes.” Then she put the key in the lock, turned it, and opened the door.
A tidal wave of cockroaches nearly knocked both women off their feet. If they had fallen, it is unlikely they would have got up again. As it was, Sam staggered back a step before bracing herself, and Erin did the same. They were up to their thighs in the revolting insects. The hissing sound that the scuttling roaches made was almost deafening. They swarmed up both women’s legs and some crawled inside their cunts. A few even forced their way into Sam’s anus and started crawling deep into her rectum.
“Damn!” she exclaimed, trying to clench her anus. “These buggers are strong!” She tried brushing them from her breasts, but it was a futile effort – soon they were all over her, crawling in her hair, over her face … and even into her ears. “Shit!” she shouted, trying to pull them out.
“What on Earth are they all finding to eat in there?” asked Erin in disbelief, continuously wiping her face and the sides of her head.
“I don’t know!” shouted Sam. “But we’ve got to go and grab some rats!”
As the two women waded into the apartment, they were barely visible beneath the insects swarming over them. It looked like the sea of roaches was bulging upwards in two places, and the bulges were moving slowly through the doorway.
Sam now began to feel squishy poo under her bare feet rather than just roach bodies. As she advanced into the room, the poo quickly became deeper, as did the seething mass of cockroaches. Soon Sam was up to her pussy in roaches, and she was finding herself unable to prevent the steady traffic crawling into her anus. Her bowels must be packed solid with them, she reflected.
“I don’t see any rats!” Erin shouted. “I think the roaches must have eventually got the better of them!” She spat a couple of roaches from her mouth.
“I think you’re right!” Sam called back. “Let’s get out of here!” But no sooner had she said this than she felt something wrap itself around her waist. “Damn! A tentacle’s got me I think.” She tried to dislodge it with one hand, but it was far too strong.
Erin made her way over to where Sam stood, and she too tried to remove the tentacle. “I can’t shift it,” she gasped. “Ow – my rectum feels like it’s about to explode!”
“Mine too!” Sam complained. “Uh-oh!”
The tentacle had suddenly begun to pull her towards her bedroom. Sam did not like this a bit, for she could see the roach-sea getting deeper and deeper up ahead, and was worried that she might go completely under. But then, like the Red Sea before Moses, the sea of roaches began to part in front of her. The piles either side of the rift built up until they nearly reached the ceiling, while the rift itself deepened until she could see bare poo. At the moment she was standing thigh-deep in the foul stuff, but as she proceeded, wading into her bedroom only to prevent herself from being pulled off her feet, the poo grew deeper and deeper until she was up to her chest, her breasts floating atop the muck. The roaches had by now even stopped crawling over her body, much to her relief. Those inside her rectum did not come out, however.
Around the corner she was dragged, the rift curving around towards the gateway. When she saw it she gasped in horror – it was now ten feet wide and looked like a gaping, toothless mouth. The sea of poo extended as far back into the tunnel as she could see, but fortunately it did not ever seem to get any more than neck-deep for her.
“Erin!” she called back. “Looks like this is it for me. Don’t follow me – go back to your parents’ house.”
“As if!” replied Erin. “There’s no way I’m leaving you at a time like this!”
“Don’t argue with me!” said Sam firmly. “You can’t help me now – save yourself while you still can!” Then the tentacle suddenly yanked her upwards, right out of the poo, and she found herself being dragged down the tunnel at great speed along the surface of the poo. She was soon coated from head to toe in the brown stuff, her hair plastered with it, her ears and nose plugged up with it. She was so blinded and confused that she did not even notice when she lost her thong, nor when she began to be dragged over squishy flesh instead of poo.
The ride ended abruptly. Sam feebly sat up, spat, and wiped her eyes. Looking up, she could not help uttering a scream as she saw the hideous, grinning face of Mordelus. “Welcome back,” said the demon.
“Fuck you,” said Sam. “Now I know this is a dream – I only ever get dragged into Hell when I’m dreaming.”
“Oh, but you are not dreaming,” said Mordelus. “You’re here for a very special reason. Now that you have performed your task to the Great Lord’s satisfaction, He would like to reward you.”
“Reward me?” asked Sam. “Somehow I doubt I’ll enjoy that much. What’s it this time – demon rape or nasty little creatures eating me from the inside out?”
“Oh, it’s nothing like that,” said Mordelus cheerfully. “Unless you refuse the honour that the Great Lord wishes to bestow upon you.”
“What honour?” asked Sam guardedly.
“He would like to make you the Queen of the Earth,” said Mordelus.
Sam quirked an eyebrow. “Queen of the Earth? What does that mean?”
“Exactly what it sounds like. The Great Lord wishes to replace the current world leaders with a single monarch – one who will carry out His wishes. That monarch will be you.”
Sam shook her head. “Just how does he expect me to pull that off?” she asked. “Even supposing I agree, which I won’t.”
“He will ensure that it happens,” Mordelus assured her. “But I think you will agree. If you do, you can leave now, and you will never again be sucked into Hell – not even in your dreams. If you refuse, you will never again leave this place, and you will spend an eternity being tortured.”
Sam’s stomach churned. There wasn’t really a choice here. “Okay,” she sighed. “What sort of wishes is your Great Lord likely to want me to carry out?”
“Oh, the introduction of human sacrifices, the complete abolishment of women’s rights, the execution of anybody who worships God … that sort of thing.”
Sam’s jaw dropped. “I can’t do that!” she said. “Those things are terrible!”
“Well He is the Ultimate Evil,” said Mordelus, still grinning. “But fair enough. If you refuse, then fine – we’ll just stick you in the Pit of Agony for a few thousand years. There are demons in there whose penises spurt fire and acid – that’ll make a nice mess of your insides. The agony, I understand, is like nothing you’ve ever…”
Sam nearly vomited at the thought. “Okay!” she said. “I’ll do it. Just let me go, please.”
“Good!” said Mordelus. “I shall now return you to your friend Erin. Do not even think of going back on your word, Samantha. If you do, you will be brought back to Hell immediately, and that will be the last you see of Earth.”
Sam shuddered, and nodded. The scene blurred, and suddenly she was back in her apartment, chest deep in poo. “Woah!” she said.
Erin was halfway through the crack. “Sam!” she exclaimed. “How did you get behind me?”
“I’ve just been to see Mordelus,” said Sam with a sigh. “I’m afraid I made rather a bad deal. Come on – let’s get out of here.”
The two women waded out of the apartment, wiped themselves off, and took the elevator down to where the car was parked. As they drove off, Sam said, “I have to be the Queen of the world.”
Erin looked over at her, puzzled. “Bummer,” she said.
“I have to reintroduce human sacrifices, abolish all rights for women, and … something else. Oh yes – I have to kill anyone who worships God.”
“Fuck!” exclaimed Erin. “And you’re seriously going to do that?”
Sam shrugged. “The minute I deviate from that path, I go straight back to Hell, never to return.”
Erin let out a low whistle. “Wow, that sucks.”
Sam nodded. Then she brightened. “Hey, do you want to go and see if Vicky’s in the mood for some hot sex?”
“Yes please!” said Erin, laughing, and she took the next right, heading for Vicky’s place.
Sam smiled to herself as she put aside unpleasant thoughts about murdering the faithful. Ruling the world could wait – tonight she was just going to see how far up Vicky’s rectum she could get her fist…