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o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
o  	The 'Bookshelf collection' offers a very wide variety of  o
o  stories. They have been submitted by people from all over the  o
o  world.  Also from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups).   There is no  o
o  particular  order  other than offering them to you in  alpha-  o
o  betical directories.                                           o
o  	I don't believe in categorizing things. "I don't want to  o
o  be typed therefore I don't type things myself."  I think it's  o
o  a lot more fun to browse around and find  'little'  surprises  o
o  that you might not have even thought of looking for.           o
o   	Lest we forget!!!   This story was produced as adult en-  o
o tertainment and should not be read by minors.                   o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o

The Mule Girl (MF. fantasy)
by Anon (c) 1991

----

[O]nce upon a time, there was a pocket full of mule-babies. Nipples
protruded into the pocket. Hairless and moist, pinky purple and apricot
scented, the mule-babies pressed their squinting faces against the milky
nubs, squeaking and braying tiny brays. The little girl wore her gauze
jumper to school, the mule-pocket bulging and making squishy noises as all
the little mules shifted places. She stood proudly at the front of the
classroom, as if to speak.

The teacher looked over her glasses and smiled. "What is it, dear child?"

"I'm getting these feelings," said the child. "The mules, having gained
sense and strength from my milky blood are now giving back into my veins
mule secretions."

The teacher paused. Time passed. It was true what the girl said.

The schoolbell rang. Not laughing and tumbling out the door as they usually
did, the school children sat stock still. A breeze blew through the
classroom.

"Oh, dear lord," said the teacher, catching the girl's scent. It was deeply
musky. The girl giggled as she watched the astonished faces of the other
children at their desks.

A freckled fat boy felt an erection slowly claim his penis. It strained
against his trousers. He wished it would go away. But each breath drew his
lungs full of the girl's peculiar smell and it surged anew.

Standing on a chair, the girl reached to the top of the blackboard. She
pulled it down like a window shade, revealing another blackness, not slate,
but a void. The children giggled. Soon shadowy forms were seen emerging
from blackness, madly shooting and darting. To the fore they came before
ten seconds passed: a trio of demonic musicians filling the classroom with
wailing song as they beat curled sticks on strange drums. A sulfurous blast
of hot air overwhelmed the classroom.

The girl turned her backside towards her classmates. From under her jumper
came a donkey tail, sliding naked into position like a serpent. Then it
grew dark with hair. She slid off her panties, revealing her donkey butt
and legs. She trumpeted a mighty bray.

Sweat poured down the children's bodies as the demonic rhythms accelerated.
They began the dance. The girl carefully took the little mules from her
pocket and put them safely in her lunchbox before tearing off her jumper in
a wild gesture.

"Yay!" said the children.

The teacher's lifeless body retreated into the void.

The girl backed down the aisle towards the freckled boy, the only one still
clothed. Stinking sweat soiled his thin white shirt, causing it to stick to
his flabby sides. His dick twirled anxiously. The little mules were now
airborne, a hovering swarm about the horror stricken boy. The teasing
mule-girl rubbed her swollen sex parts against his bulging atrocity. He
watched, jaw agape, as she unzipped him and led his crimson stalk into the
hot open air. It leaked pre-cum like blood from a wound.

The mule-babies hissed confusing messages into the boy's ears.

"She's going to train you."

"You're gonna feel like mommy, you little rat."

"Get off the earth, fatso."

He wept.

"We're gonna burst your heart like a condom."

"Be mine, Valentine."

The girl slid her donkey rear onto him. He gagged. He had never felt
anything so dirty, repulsive. Yet his loins lunged and pumped. He buried
himself in the mule girl. He shrieked as if he were being prodded with a
hot poker; perhaps he was. His eardrums popped. Stuff dribbled out his
ears.

But then something unexpected happened. He felt affection for the mule
girl. His pounding man-organ slowed. He stroked her coarse, oily fur,
rubbed his stubby, sticky finger along the edge of her long ears. He began
to sing. They swayed together.

It was too much.

I let drop the curtain and continued on my way. Such things are best
unseen. The sound of a grinding garbage truck called my attention to the
morning's hangover. I thought of ending it all right then and there. Oh,
but why?

I sauntered back to the open window and drew the curtain again.

The musicians had departed, as had the class; to hell, I speculated. Still,
the couple remained, engaged, purring and heehawing. A cum wad fat as a
baseball welled up in fat boy's sac. The girl nuzzled her snout into his
hand, murmuring encouragement.

"Wait!" I yelled from the window.

They looked up. "Do you know what you've done?" I asked, a grin spreading
across my cute face like melting brie.

"Go ahead," I said. "Take a look!"

The boy slowly withdrew his dick. It was made of candy! Like a candy cane,
red spiral stripe and everything!

"Wow!" said the boy. "Woooooooowwwwwww!"

The girl looked forlorn as the boy gazed at his licking stick with more
admiration than ever. As her spirits sank, she came unmuled, deformed to
childhood's mildness once again.

After some time his eyes met hers. "Oh," he said, "Who cares about candy?
You're sweetness itself. You made all this magic happen."

The girl smiled shyly. "Wellll, maybe that's true."

"Ah come on, of course that's true," said the fatso. "Hey let's go down to
the mall and you can tell me all about your adventures. I want to know how
you got to be such an interesting girl."

She beamed. "I like you!"

"You know," he said with a hint of sincerity, "I kinda like you, too."

E P I L O G

The mule babies were forgotten, lifeless skins of no use to anyone. Ponies
proved more popular, indeed retaining this preference for all eternity.

The girl was no mere girl. She was a princess born of mortal mother and
fairy father. I raised her till the fourth year after I found her in the
hollow of a tree.

I am a famous dancing bear who happened to have the day off. Later that
afternoon I ate a tabby cat, for which I have suffered pangs of conscience
ever since. Forgive me, children, if you can.

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                                                                  [(back)]

(c)1995 Kurt Hoffman
