Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 261
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Bush League
Chapter One
�Jack and Jill, Family Circle, Jack and the Beanstalk!� Polly read
aloud from the magazine�s covers. �How to Teach your Child to be Safe!�
�How to Teach your Child to Count to Ten!� �The Alphabet Made Easy!�
Polly�s voice became more contemptuous as she read off each title and
each article. �Yick! This magazine has a booger on its cover!� Polly
declared. She flounced back to me, letting her schoolgirl dress flip up as
high as she could, swaying her hips most salaciously, letting her bosoms
bounce, and sat back down next to me.
�Polly! Didn�t you put on your bra?� I asked her. I hadn�t noticed
how bouncy her breasts were until just now.
�Why should I? I�m only 13,� Polly snipped. �I�m not supposed to
have breasts this big so why should I wear a bra over them?�
�We�re trying to be GOOD, Polly!� I told her. �Please behave so we
can go back to Louis and Andre.�
�I don�t like Andre anymore,� Polly declared. I felt a shiver run
through me as I worried she might turn in Rose. Then she smiled. �I like
Louis,� she told me.
�Well, then don�t blow it for us,� I snapped. Polly was giving me
fits. No bra, won�t play her Space Invaders, then won�t quit, now saying
she might just decide she doesn�t like Rose�s castle, even though in the
limo she�d said she wanted to swim naked there forever. �Do you like
partying at Rose�s?� I asked her.
�Sort of,� Polly replied, considering, playing with her fingers as if
fiddling with them would give her God�s answer. �But I certainly don�t
like having my bottom spanked!�
�Just be glad you didn�t get a weal like me, Polly,� I told her.
�Though God knows you deserve them all over your tushy, in my opinion.�
�Girls, would you please come with me?� the woman with the granny
glasses suddenly said to us. She was standing just inside the door, and
she�d unlocked it without us hearing her. We both got up, and I saw Polly
move with extra caution lest she wiggle her breasts and let on that she
had no bra.
We were separated. I was taken to a room by myself. I sat down in
another plastic chair to wait, this time with the option of reading
�Children�s Playland� if I chose, a dog-eared magazine dated from 1982.
It advised parents that their children should be made to wear �Safety
Beepers� to protect them from strange men.
A head looked in on me as I considered the magazine. A hand, gnarled
with age, passed me a white paper gown. �Please take off all your clothes
and put this on,� an old woman told me. Her eyes seemed to regard me
with intense jealousy, as if she would like nothing more than to see me
spayed. I accepted the paper gown. She shut the door and I swallowed.
Then, standing up, I took off the modest clothing I�d so carefully put on.
I was just tying the last of the paper gown�s drawstrings over my
front when a woman entered, about Rose�s age. She had curly brown hair,
long hair, that she�d bundled efficiently atop her head for her work. She
had a pronounced bust. A stethoscope hung down over her white nurse�s
jacket, and I found myself wondering what it would look like just against
her skin, cool, metallic, snaking down between those womanly breasts of
hers. At the same time I felt disappointment that I hadn�t been assigned a
man to examine me. But then, I would never be, here, would I? Not at
child protective services.
�Please get on the table,� the nurse told me. She laid down her
clipboard and pushed a small wooden platform over to the side of the
room�s examining table. Then, as I watched, she drew a pair of cold steel
stirrups out from the end of the table. She inverted the stirrups so that
they both pointed down. �On your belly, please,� she told me.
I got on the stool and then pushed myself with my hands up onto the
table. I lay down on it, hesitant in my movements, but finally letting
myself just relax against its hard surface. There was a cushion beneath
me but it was made of such solid, efficient leather that it almost need not
have been there at all, for the good it did me. A simple paper sheet lay
drawn along its surface, pulled from a roller at its head. Just before I�d
laid down the nurse had drawn down the sheet to tear it off from the last
patient�s visit. There had been a wet spot on the sheet where I knew my
pussy would lie. Now as I settled into the clean portion of the sheet I
wondered if I�d leave a similar spot when I got up.
The nurse offered me a small pillow and I let her slip it under my
face. Then she lifted my head and set my chin on the pillow and popped a
thermometer in my mouth.
�You have a nice tan. Have you been playing in the sun?� the nurse
asked me. I nodded, holding tight to the thermometer between my lips.
She moved down to my legs and drew them apart. With soft fingers she
placed each of my feet in the downward pointing stirrups. Then she looped
a band of leather around my ankle and tied it. I was not wearing my
anklets or wristlets, or my collar. Those had been left behind, at Rose�s.
It felt odd to have the leather tightened around my ankle. I was not used
to that part of my skin being bare, despite spending all weekend nude.
Now it was tied up again, but the leather which bound me now was thin,
like a shoelace, and the nurse tied it so that it made a little bow at the
back of my foot. I lifted my heels a little and found that they were quite
immovable, being fixed to the stirrups now. I was imprisoned again,
though for what purpose I knew not.
The nurse hiked up the back of my paper gown. I felt the air of the
room touch the backs of my thighs and then finally my upswelling rear.
The nurse gasped. �Who did this to your bottom?� she asked. She traced
my red-hued scars with the tip of her finger. I shivered a little. There
was a thermometer in my mouth. She remembered, and plucked it from my
lips just as I reached to take it out myself.
�I-I can�t say,� I replied. �I don�t want to blame anyone. But I don�t
want to go home either.�
�Oh, my, well, I wouldn�t want you to have to go home either,� the
nurse answered. But I sensed a bit of amusement in her voice. I had not
said my dad did this to me, or my mom. Did she think they did, or did she
know better? �Let me get some lotion to put on your poor hiney,� the
nurse told me. She read my thermometer. �Well, your temp�s okay,� she
told me. �About your fanny, there�s a best way to do it and the ordinary
way,� she said.
�Yes?� I asked. I looked up at her with innocent eyes. I was doing
okay so far. No questions I�d had to lie about, and she seemed to have
moved on to just healing me now, like a real doctor, not worrying about my
injuries came about but only how to make them better.
�If I put--� She seemed slightly flustered. She touched a hand to her
hair, then to the topmost button on her vest, where her collar suddenly
seemed to be fitted so tightly around her slim neck. �If I put the lotion on
with my fingers that will be okay,� she said. �This sounds silly but-- if I
use my nipples, that will be better. It will be softer and won�t hurt as
much.� She fidgeted with her collar button.
�Okay,� I replied.
�Good,� she said. �I�m glad you agree.� She undid the buttons of her
jacket, letting me watch, still wishing I could have a man doctor
somehow, and wondering how I might ask her, when her jacket popped open
and her breasts burst forth, full and upthrusting and with quivering teats.
�I should wear a blouse and bra but I was in a rush this morning,� my
nurse explained. �A demanding boyfriend,� she added. I saw teeth marks
around the tips of her breasts but said nothing. Love hickeys, left by her
boyfriend to remind her of his love. Had he suspected she�d show them to
a female patient? My nurse saw me watching and cupped her breasts.
Briefly she looked at her tits. �Yes, it was kind of a rough night,� she
admitted. Then she let go of them and they hung very nicely, kind of like
gourds, but much rounder. �Are your breasts okay?� she asked me.
�Yes,� I answered. There was a thankful sigh in my voice.
�Good. I�ll check them later for you, just to be sure,� my nurse told
me. �By the way, since we�re going to be somewhat intimate with each
other, showing each other our marks and all, my name�s Glenda,� she said.
�Mine�s Fleury,� I replied.
�Yes, I see it on the chart,� she nodded, indicating her clipboard,
which lay on the plastic chair now, where I�d been sitting, trying so hard
just a few minutes ago to be as simple and plain and unaffected as
possible. Now I was quite naked and showing my scars, my gown hiked up
and my tanned legs pulled apart and tied off at the ankles in metal
stirrups. I was living a girl�s life, I suppose.
My nurse got lotion and, without removing her dress, or any other
part of her clothing, including her neat white nurse�s hat, she dribbled
lotion from a small glass bottle onto her nipples. Then, with her nipples
gleaming, she lowered down my table by pressing a switch. She looked
like a doctor preparing for an operation, except she was topless and there
were no tools to cut me with lying about, my cuts already having been
inflicted the night before.
Glenda pressed her fingertips to my paper-sheathed table. She
leaned over my bottom and, in very gentle circular motions, she began
brushing her wet nipples over my heinie.
�Ohhh,� I breathed, feeling those prim wet tips trace healing lotion
onto my flaming tushy. She breathed a gentle �oh� of her own, echoing
mine. Was she feeling the healing effects of the lotion upon the teeth
marks her boyfriend had left on her breasts, or was she feeling pleasure at
caressing me? I could not tell. I did not ask.
Whenever she ran short of lotion on the tips of her nipples Glenda
would stop and put more on. Then she would return her soft teats to my
ass, newly wettened, and begin caressing me once more.
�How do you feel?� she asked, after a bit. I turned my head. I let my
cheek snuggle against my pillow.
�Nice,� I replied.
�Is your ass starting to feel better?� she asked.
�Mmmm, a little,� I replied truthfully, for all the oil, however
carefully it might be applied, would still not take all the sting out of my
bottom. Only time would heal that.
She placed two fingers gently within my bottom crack and vented
me. �Have you been playing with widening yourself?� she asked me.
�Mmmm, a little,� I replied again, feeling warm and cared for. It
was nice to have someone so attentive looking after me.
�I only mention that because you seem to have an especially tight
asshole,� she said. �Your boyfriend might need to stick something up you
to make you more accessible.� She touched my hiney-hole with the tip of
her finger. Secretly I wished she�d use her nipple.
�I�ve learned to relax it better,� I confessed.
�Good,� she replied. �Would you like me to help a little? It�s totally
�off the books,� you know, doing something like that, but I had the same
problem myself.� Her voice seemed sympathetic.
�Okay,� I answered, not thinking about it really, just letting her do
with me as she pleased. Glenda went to a table on which there were
cotton swabs, a syringe, and a speculum, all laid out neatly, just waiting,
waiting... She reached behind the items laid on the table and opened a
metal box. She had to stand on tip-toe to find what she wanted inside it,
her breasts hanging down like ripe fruit, wet at the tips, her tongue
lightly licking her lips. Finally Glenda drew forth a long gleaming dildo,
hard metal steel but with joints in it, as if it might need to bend in
certain places, if enough pressure were applied to it, to accommodate
whatever it was stuck inside of. The dildo was quite thin, but I saw a
bladder at the bottom of it.
�This is called a Devil�s Dildo,� Glenda told me. She held it aloft for
me to catch sight of and then went to the sink and began running the water
there until it was as cold as she could make it. She filled the bladder at
the base of the dildo with the icy water.
Matter of factly she walked over to me. She showed me the dildo up
close. She squirted lotion onto it, the same as had been used on my
bottom, applying it through the nipple-tip of the small glass bottle until
the bottle was almost empty. �When the dildo is inserted I�m going to
squirt ice water up your rectum,� Glenda told me. �The ice water is quite
uncomfortable, but it should help you get more in touch with your asshole.
As you can see, the dildo is quite long, longer than a man�s penis, and I�m
going to try to get the whole thing up you. Tell me if I�m hurting you, but
don�t expect me to stop unless I actually think it�s impossible to go on. I
just need feedback to help you master your sensations, that�s all. Okay?�
She smiled at me.
�I- I don�t want to,� I told her quite frankly.
�Play with yourself while I do it,� she told me. �It will make it
easier for you and I need to check whether you can have normal orgasms
anyway. Sorry, but no men allowed. This is child protective services, you
understand. I can�t break all the rules for you. Just diddle your spot and
see if you can concentrate on your clitty, but remember I�ll be getting you
in touch with your backhole all the while, squirting icewater up you as we
proceed so you can feel the entire length of your inner tubing, as one might
say. Would you like a little something to ease your nervousness before I
begin?� I nodded, silently, saying nothing.
Glenda went to the countertop again, where the other instruments
lay. She reached down beneath it and opened what I saw to be a small
refrigerator. There were samples inside it, of blood, urine, feces, each
neatly bottled and packaged and labeled. There was also a freezer
compartment in the fridge. Glenda opened it and took out a tray of ice
cubes and plopped the dildo into it. I shivered, seeing that. It was
supposed to go up my ass in a minute!
Rummaging among the specimen containers, reaching all the way to
the back, Glenda drew out a flask of brandy. She reached up to an overhead
cupboard and got out a medicine cup. Wiping the top of the brandy flask
first, to make sure it was clean, using a medicated sanitary wipe to do it,
she then opened the flask of brandy and poured it into the medicine cup.
She brought it over to me and made me sip it down.
�It doesn�t taste too good, because it�s partly mixed with castor oil,
but it should still help you relax,� Glenda told me. She poured the brandy
between my lips for me.
�Ew, won�t it make me go to the bathroom?� I asked her frankly.
�Some, but it�s okay. I need you nice and juicy in back because when
we�re done with the Devil�s Dildo I�m going to give you the biggest you�ve
ever had. We nurses call it the Master John, because gays sometimes use
it to train their lovers. Start rubbing yourself so you�ll be plenty aroused
when it�s time for that one,� Glenda said. �If you don�t mind I�m going to
rub myself a little while you do yourself. May I undress?�
�I don�t mind,� I replied. I was curious to see her bush, I must
admit, after admiring her bosoms. Anyway, I wasn�t exactly hiding
anything from her. Glenda removed her dress and then her panties, leaving
just her stockings and heels on, and her little nurse�s hat.
�I hope nobody comes in,� Glenda told me. �I locked the door but
some people do have the key. When it�s time to put the Master John in you
I�m going to put it on, if it�s okay with you. It�s too hard to push it in with
my hands.�
�Alright,� I said. This was getting more demanding every minute.
�Thanks for letting me undress early,� she told me. �It is kind of
tough to have that Master John rubbing against my clit if I haven�t prepped
myself. It�s supposed to have a soft harness but I find it kind of rough,
actually, though I�ve tried wearing it down and I�ve used it, of course, on
other girls.�
�How many girls do you do this to?� I asked.
�Only the special ones, the ones that need it,� she replied...
holy joe�s
DUMB �LIST SERVE� MAIL
As you know, I�ve had the misfortune of getting subscribed to
various �list serves.� If you�ve never had this experience, it is pretty
weird, because all your incoming mail LOOKS like it�s for you, even though
it isn�t. (After all, the subject headings are written by ordinary people.
They aren�t commercial SPAM, which is easier to identify and delete.)
Here�s an example of, in my opinion, really dumb �list serve� SPAM.
Whatever this guy is talking about could be really important, but I�ll bet
when I�m lying on my deathbed I won�t wish I�d known more about this:
silvia@oasys.dt.navy.mil (Pete Silvia): �I don't know... It seems to
me that I am pretty good at picking up when others are exercising the
function that is my inferior - Ne. My S perceptive system goes "tilt" and I
start looking for exits. :-) Ni usually appears at a pace that I can find
congenial.
�Probably be harder for me to separate Fe and Fi.�
Yeah, I�ll bet it is. Separating your brain from your ass is probably
difficult too. (Sorry to insult this person, but I didn�t ASK to be on this
�list serve,� or any of the thousands of others that I keep getting signed up
to.)
Please, if you run a �list serve,� BLOCK the address
�roller666@aol.com� from ever getting on your �list serve.� Otherwise your
innermost thoughts may be printed in the next issue of FUCK DECENCY,
complete with infantile comments from holy joe!
AND IN THE END...
ATTENTION, EXON!
�Prosperity in this information age can only durably be achieved
by a people living in freedom.�
- Former U.S. Secretary of State George Shultz.
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-Naughty Naked Dreamgirls (Library of Congress ISSN: 1070-1427) is
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copyright 1997 by the respective copyright holder.
-END OF 261 EMISSION
- Shultz: The Commonwealth Club of California, C-SPAM, April 1997.