Thanks to Denny Wheeler for proof-reading and catching
some unfortunate blunders in the original ASSM post.

                Killer Man-Eating Pussies
                by Daphne Xu

		Version 1.1

The Boy dashed up the front porch stairs and jammed the
doorbell hard.  The door opened to reveal the Girl, who
exclaimed, "Hey, there!  Come on in.  Have a seat and let
me get you a Coke.  You're as flustered as a flurry."

The Boy flopped down on one end of the sofa, and watched
her walking into the kitchen.  Gosh, how cute she was, he
thought, forgetting his fears, thinking for the moment
only of her tall full-fledged stout figure.  She was wearing
dark blue jeans that smoothly covered her ass, thighs,
legs, and crotch.  A bright neon-green sleeveless shirt
molded her breasts, and left a couple of inches of skin
bare above her jeans, exposing her belly button.  The
shirt hugged her torso too smoothly for her to be wearing
any kind of bra, and her nipples were pushing up against
the fabric.  Her long jet-black hair draped over her
shoulders, and extended down to cover her breasts.  Her
underarms were hairless, and her perfectly-pedicured bare
feet lacked the toenail paint so prevalent these days.

The Boy wondered if the Girl knew how unbearably hot she
looked.  She seemed so innocent and pure, yet lusty and
hot at the same time.  She was an inch or two taller than
him.

The Girl was also older than him.  She had a car, and
presumably a driver's license.  The Boy, to his
mortification, was too young to drive -- too young for
even a learner's permit.  He had only just turned fifteen.
He wondered with no little shame how the Girl deigned to
so much as notice him, let alone go on a date with him.

The Girl returned with a glass of Coca-Cola with ice for
him, and a glass of what he guessed must have been soybean
milk for herself.  She settled down and lay back against
the opposite end of the sofa, and stretched out her legs
along the sofa toward him, flexing her toes enticingly.

"Okay," she said.  "Now that you've calmed down, what
happened?"

The Boy breathed in suddenly, terrified again at the
thought of what he'd heard.  "A friend told me about a
gang initiation ritual.  The guys drive at night with
headlights off.  Another driver flashes his headlights to
signal them.  Then the guys go after the other driver,
force him off the road, and kill him."  Suppose they
encountered the gang when they went to the movies tonight,
wondered The Boy in panic.

"I've heard that story.  It's an urban legend, nothing
more," commented the Girl.

"But it was a police officer who told her!"

"Come here, let me show you something."  She got up and
took the Boy's hand.  Nervous, excited, and weirded-out
holding a Girl's hand, he let her pull him up and lead him
down to her bedroom.  He gulped and tried to swallow in
nervous excitement.  He'd never been in a Girl's bedroom
before, except his sister's a long time ago.

The Girl passed by her bed, and led him to her computer.
"Have a seat," she said.  Curious, the Boy sat down.
Standing to his left, the Girl clicked a few mouse clicks
and a web page appeared.

"This is Snopes, an urban legends archive," continued the
Girl as the Boy read with interest.  Apparently the story
of the gang initiation ritual was at least a decade and a
half old and migrated from city to city without a single
death being reported.  Often, surprisingly, police
departments were responsible for spreading the rumor.

"The police are surprisingly boneheaded about urban
legends.  On the other hand, this site becomes boneheaded
once in a while.  In 2001, they did a major hachet job on
Green Party icon Nancy Oden.  So we really should check
its claims."  The Girl clicked a few more times, and the
Boy found himself facing a decade-and-a-half-old news
article, reporting essentially the same facts as the web
site.

The Boy still felt nervous and uncertain.  What if there
were something to it, despite all this?  "What about the
movie?  Should we be going now?"  He was still a little
scared that they might have such an encounter tonight.

The Girl didn't respond for a while.  She walked over to
her bed and lay on her back, with her legs stretched out
toward him.  "Why not watch a DVD?  Nobody's going to be
home for a while; we'll be by ourselves."  She smiled
innocently at him, and he blushed horribly.  "We'll have
dinner here as well."  She took a remote control and
clicked a couple times.  A wide television screen started
up.

The Boy turned and sat on the bed between her feet, facing
the screen.  The standard dire messages about copyrights,
copying, and unauthorized display appeared, and the movie
began.  It was something he'd never heard of --
"Interstate 60" -- but it was directed by a familiar name,
Bob Dale of the "Back to the Future" trilogy.

The boy was cheered to see Michael J. Fox appear as well,
but was a little disappointed to find that Fox was playing
a major-league foul-mouthed asshole who stupidly earned
himself an immediate demise.  But he was also happy to see
Christopher Lloyd as a major supporting character.

As engrossed as he was in the movie, he found himself
glancing at the Girl's feet on either side of him.  The
Girl was occasionally flexing her feet and spreading her
toes in a particularly enticing manner.

Finally, he reached down and touched the Girl's foot on
his left side. He heard a soft giggle, and jerked his hand
away.

"No, no, don't stop," she assured him.  "I like it."  So
the Boy continued playing with her feet, tickling,
carressing, and massaging them in turn, while watching the
movie.  His hands slid back up her lower legs,
feeling through her jeans.

A scene in the movie remind him of something scary.  He
quickly turned toward the Girl on the bed.  He was
terrified all over again.

"Two or three days ago, my Mom received a letter in the
mail.  It told her to photocopy the letter and send ten
copies on to friends and relatives.  For luck.  Those who
did had good things happen, while --"

"--those who broke the chain typically encounted
unspeakable disasters."

"Yeah.  Accidents, misfortune, and worse.  Mom just threw
the letter out.  She said the stuff was garbage.
Fearmongering.  But how could she know?  What if she was
wrong?"  The Boy was almost in tears from panic.

"Oh, my poor Boy."  The Girl sat up and embraced the Boy,
pulling him down on top of her.  His arms encircled her
automatically, and somehow his hands found their way up
her back underneath her shirt.  As he'd thought, she
wasn't wearing a bra.  She kissed him fully on the mouth,
making him so excited that he forgot his fear and what
made him frightened.

Just then, the Girl pushed him away.  What happened, he
wondered.  Did he do something wrong?  But no.  The Girl
pulled the shirt up over her head and tossed it aside.
The Boy gazed at her breasts -- how perfect they were!
He'd never seen anything like them before.  The Girl then
pulled on the hem of his shirt.  He took that as a
suggestion, and pulled off his own shirt.  Then she pulled
him back down on her and they kissed some more.

The feeling of her breasts up against his torso was almost
too much.  He slid himself down and began nibbling on her
left breast.  She gasped.  He kept sucking her breast,
taking her nipple in his mouth and tonguing.  "Yes!  Yes,
more!  More!"

After a while, he nibbled across to the other breast, and
focused his mouth and tongue on that for the next few
minutes.

He nibbled down to her belly button, the girl twitching at
every touch of his mouth.  At one point, she lifted up her
midsection and slid off her jeans and panties, releasing
an intoxicating, musky odor.  Not believing he was
actually doing this, the Boy propped himself up, and began
removing his own pants and underpants.

His rock-hard penis had just popped free of his underpants
when he suddenly thought of something else.  "Today in
gym, some guys were talking about killer Demon-girls, who
lure men into their clutches and perform satanic pagan
rituals, impregnating themselves, and devouring the men in
their lust!"  The Boy was Really, Really Scared now.

The Girl pulled him down against her and held him close,
comforting him.  She asked if any signs of satanic pagan
rituals had been found.  "No, they're careful not to leave
tracks."  The Boy realized what the Girl would say next,
something contemptuous about believing something without
evidence.  But she only pointed out that satanism and
paganism were two different things.

The Boy was almost convinced when he remembered.  "But what
about Dr. Thompson, the physics teacher?  He disappeared!"

"Don't you remember?  He was caught in flagrante delicto
with a cheerleader."

"In flagrant what?"

"Caught in the Act with a cheerleader in his class.  He
was fired and left the town."

Oh, the Boy thought.  He pulled off his pants and returned
to the subject at hand, the Girl's luscious body.  They
kissed, and he slipped down and kissed her neck.  That
produced a surprised raspy gasp from the Girl, and he
kissed and nibbled her neck some more.

A musky odor attracted him southward again, and it was all
he could do to maintain a slow, deliberate pace of kissing
down the Girl's front.  He kissed her breasts and tongued
her nipples.  He slid on down to her belly button and
tongued that.

Afterwards, he took a detour off to the side, kissing and
tonguing the side of the Girl's belly.  Every touch of his
made the girl twitch.  She frequently giggled a high-pitched
silver-bell sound, and sometimes gasped.

He couldn't believe it -- was he really here, doing
something he had always fantasized doing?  He worked his
way across her belly to the other side, and then slowly
down the edge of her crotch, the source of the
intoxicating odor.

He licked and softly bit on a tendon at the edge and the
Girl gasped and lifted up her crotch.  He wasn't sure, did
he quite dare?  He blew softly on her crotch, and the Girl
softly moaned and lifted her crotch into his face.  He
licked up the Girl's slit, and then pushed his mouth fully
on her pussy.

His tongue found a hole, and just above that a tiny hard
spot.  The Girl's pussy was secreting a soft nectar of a
taste the Boy had never encountered before -- not too
sweet, not too sour, just right.  He lapped the nectar up
as more and more was produced; he could never get enough.
Deeper, deeper, he licked, trying to get ever more and
more, getting down farther and farther inside, until --

CHOMP-CHOMP-CHOMP-CHOMP-CHOMP

The Boy was sucked all the way in.  The Girl emitted a
huge farting sound from her pussy, and issued a sigh of
contentment.

"Satanic pagan rituals, indeed!" she muttered to herself.
"All we want is a good meal now and then.  But geez, I
shall miss him."

The END