Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Author: Hoop
Title: Plague Girl
Part: 1
Summary: Kate drags a friend into her depraved fantasies of disease and
mutilation.
Keywords: nc, FF, tort, ws, guro

   --

   NOTE: This story is quite unpleasant, I feel I should say something
about that now.



   Kate unzipped her hoodie, and shrugged it off her shoulders.  She pulled
her t-shirt up, over her head, and let it drop to the floor of the
bathroom. Looking at her reflection in the mirror, she placed an index
finger either side of a ripe, yellow acne spot, and squeezed hard.



   The spots were mostly confined to a swathe across her right cheek.  Some
had made their way, abnormally, down her neck.  More of them clustered
together in the space between her breasts, and, further down, they
transitioned into red sores: inches-wide patches of raw, irritated flesh.
Her lips were cracked, the inner surfaces scarlet from where her yellow
teeth had worn away at them.  Bloodshot eyes constantly wept a sticky,
yellow substance as her body's immune system struggled with an insistent
infection.  The flesh of her arms bore white, livid stripes where cuts had
healed and been opened, again and again.  She scratched at a purple scab on
her forearm, and as it started to peel away, she smiled.



   She was beautiful.



   --



   The Plague Father had first appeared to her at the age of seventeen,
while she was in the hospital.  Her time there was due to an accident that
had seemed horrific, although now she realised that fate had clearly
orchestrated it just for her.  A mis-placed step on a shortcut to her high
school had seen her tumbling down a rough slope, leg torn open by a jutting
piece of rusted metal.  Her fall had ended in a stagnant canal, and she
could remember lying there, stunned from the fall, unable to move, and with
nobody around to hear her cries.



   She had lain in the fetid water for what must have been hours before she
was discovered.  By that time she was already feverish.  The blood of her
wounds had clotted, sealing in particles from that green, filthy water. 
She was taken to the hospital, and doctors grimaced as they examined her
wounds, writing out lists of antibiotics and other medicines.  She was
administered a heavy-duty painkiller, and spent the next day
barely-conscious, half-able to hear the voices around her as they talked
about 'sepsis', 'gangrene' and 'white cell count'.



   It was after the third day that he appeared to her.  She awoke during
the night, struggling for breath, her whole body feeling heavy and numb. 
He emerged from the blackness surrounding her bed, barely-illuminated by
the glow from the blinking lights on her life support monitors.  He had
told her his name, the Plague Father, and that he had chosen her to spread
his 'gift'.  He had spoken to her in a strange, soothing voice, gently
caressing her cheek as his breath filled her nostrils with an odour like
rotting garbage.  He talked to her for a long time, about humanity's
obsession with cleanliness, about the genocide committed against billions
of bacteria daily, and after all, weren't they living creatures too?



   Kate had been terrified at first.  All the will she could summon would
not move her paralysed limbs, and she had been obliged to listen to the
sermon of the creature sat upon her bed, pawing at her face with its
monstrous claw.  The cadence of his voice was somehow calming, and in time
she had found herself listening to his words intently.  He exhorted her to
embrace the infections that ravaged her body, not to fight them, but to
give them a home inside herself.  It all seemed to make so much sense to
her: these creatures, these microbes, only sought a place to live like any
other creature.  What right did she have to slaughter them for the
inconvenience they caused?



   She had told the Plague Father that she understood, and that she would
follow his teachings.  He had embraced her then, and her last memory of
that dreamlike episode was a mouth full of decayed, blackened teeth looming
towards her face before he kissed her.



   When she next awoke, it was daytime.  There were a pair of nurses
standing at the foot of her bed.  One of them was unwrapping the bandages
from the dressing on her leg.  They had looked at each other with puzzled
expressions, and left the room.  A doctor appeared some time later,
flipping through charts with his brows furrowed.  Another day passed, and
her intravenous drips were removed.  Two days after that, she stood on
wobbling legs as a nurse helped her out of her bed.



   "You seem to have been cured," she said.  "It looks like you've got one
hell of an immune system on you, Kate.  Doctor Nordheim wants to write a
paper about your case."

   "Really?"

   "You're a remarkable girl, Kate.  Most other people would have died."

   "Most other people don't understand," she said, dreamily.



   Kate was discharged later that day, and had returned home to her normal
life with her parents.  She had caught up with her studies, surprising her
science professor by pulling her biology grade up from a D- to a solid A.
During the next few months, she managed to avoid questions about the cuts
on her arms by careful choice of long-sleeved clothing.  Whatever anyone
thought of them would be a mistake, anyway.  She wasn't self-harming from
depression.  She just liked to watch the cuts heal.



   She had been cautious about exploring her relationship with the Plague
Father.  Still living at home, there were precious few opportunities to
indulge in her new-found urges.  Every so often, her parents would take a
weekend trip, telling her, "don't have any wild house parties or anything!"
in a half-serious way.  She respected their wishes.



   One weekend she had lain in the bathtub, drawing a steel nail up and
down her legs and across her chest, wallowing in the blood that the wounds
brought forth.  They always seemed to clot eventually, even after one time
when she had slashed her wrist quite violently.  Her body was an endless
source of pleasure for her as she watched it break and heal itself.  She
had cut herself down to the bone a few times, although she avoided
indulging in such extreme measures too often.  The last such injury had
become quite thoroughly infected, and it had been hard to conceal the
seeping wound from her concerned mother, who had panicked when she saw it
and had her rushed to the hospital.



   The excitement of these activities soon wore off, and she moved on to
other practices.  She was very excited one weekend to find a spool of
rusted barbed wire sitting on top of one of the dumpsters she frequently
peeked into.  She had brought it home and wound it around her arms and
legs, criss-crossing her chest with metal strands that dug into her flesh
and tore open scores of tiny cuts.  Bound up with the wire, she had
masturbated feverishly, squirming on her back, letting out little whimpers
every time the barbs rasped against her skin.  The cuts had healed by the
time her parents had returned, although she did spent a Sunday frantically
shopping for an identical set of bedding to replace her bloodstained
sheets.



   She had a relationship with a young man named Philip, purely for the
sake of convenience.  Kate had not paid much attention to the pimply,
introverted boy who sat at the desk in front of her in class, until she had
found out about his part-time job as an abattoir worker.  She had become
very friendly with him after that, and Philip could not believe his luck
that a girl, any girl, was actually talking to him.  His desperation made
him a devoted boyfriend, and he was only too happy to provide her with
waste meat from the abattoir, 'to feed her dogs', she had said.  He had
wondered why he had never seen them, and she had told him not to worry
about it.



   With access to this new source, Kate had planned her next indulgence in
advance.  She had waited for three months for the opportunity, and now,
finally, her parents were taking an extended trip, leaving her in charge of
the house.  After several favours from Philip, she had enough low-grade
meat and offal to fill several buckets she had concealed in her yard.  She
kept them hidden away beneath a tarpaulin, and left them to stew in the
summer sun, politely humouring the neighbours who asked about the worsening
smell by feigning ignorance and naively asking if it might be a leaking
septic tank, or some other spurious explanation.



   She couldn't help but masturbate on the first day she had to herself,
out of excited anticipation.  She half-filled the her bathtub with cows'
blood she had taken from Philip's workplace one night - the security there
had been non-existent.  She spent an hour playing with herself, splashing
around in the slowly-congealing pool of gore, sliding her hands over her
nude body and leaving bright red trails.  While one hand rubbed at her
pussy, she scooped blood over her face, into her mouth, letting the salty,
metallic flavour spread across her tongue.



   She had been violently ill soon after, not bothering to vacate the
bathtub and instead content to kneel on all fours while she vomited.  The
warm, brown liquid splashed against her legs, and she could see the colours
mingle beneath her through tear-blurred eyes, swirls of colour like the
palette of some morbid artist.  Before really considering what she was
doing, Kate bent her elbows and lowered herself into the muck, keeping her
butt raised in the air.  She brought both of her hands between her legs,
and stimulated herself desperately, her abdomen tensing and twitching as
her vomit reflex continued to trigger.  There was nothing left in her, she
was choking up pale yellow bile, and the stench of the noxious soup filled
the room, her ears thundered with the sound of her pounding heartbeat and
then Kate had the most intense orgasm she had ever experienced, letting out
a shuddering cry before collapsing down into the slime.



   Cleanup was unnecessary.  Her parents were away for a while yet.  She
rinsed her body off with the showerhead, wrapped herself in a white
dressing-gown, and that was sufficient for her.  That evening, she fished
out a grey, wet piece of meat from one of her buckets.  There were small
clusters of white spots where something had laid its eggs in it.  She
returned to the bathroom to eat, holding the rubbery mass in both hands as
she tore pieces from it with her teeth, swallowing it down hungrily.  It
was lukewarm from being outside.



   Her body rejected it at first, and she was unable to hold down more than
a few mouthfuls.  Determined to make progress, she ended up sitting on the
toilet, biting, chewing, swallowing, trying her hardest to hold the meal
down and vomiting between her legs into the bowl when she was unsuccessful.
Eventually she dominated her stomach's urging, feeling a sense of great
satisfaction as she choked down the second half of the meat and kept it
inside her.



   Her excitement at consuming the meal aroused other feelings within her.
She returned to kneel in the bathtub, sitting upright this time, with her
legs folded beneath her.  She plunged both hands into her nether regions,
pushing first one, then two fingers into her ass hole while the other hand
worked at her pussy.  She rubbed her genitals urgently while she felt
something stirring within her bowels.  Her fingers probed further inwards,
and sank into something soft.



   She pulled her fingers out of her ass.  Both were now stained the colour
of rust.  She felt a twitch in her behind as her anus puckered, and a small
piece of shit emerged from her, hanging between her legs for a moment
before dropping into the rest of the filth.  She leaned forward on her
hands, looking through her legs as she squeezed out a second turd which
fell upon the first.  Small, white worms writhed within the soft piles of
excrement - the creatures she had been sharing her colon with for some
months now.  She had made a special meal out of dining on meat contaminated
with their eggs.



   She defecated several more times after that, scooping handfuls of the
excrement across her chest and thighs, delighting at the feeling of it
squashing between her fingers as she continued to rub at her cunt.  She
turned about to sit down in the tub, spreading her legs wide and fingering
herself frantically, smearing clumps of her shit over her genitals and
leaving dark streaks across her skin.  She found herself caught up in the
moment: not really thinking about what she was doing, she opened her mouth
and licked the mess from the fingers of her free hand.  Her stomach was
belaboured enough just trying to hold down her meal of rotted meat, and the
taste of shit on her tongue brought it straight back up.  She lurched
forward, dark orange puke pouring from her mouth and running down her
chest. She didn't even pause in her vigorous masturbation, and soon another
orgasm had her toes curling, mouth wide open as she gasped for breath at
its intensity.



   She lay there for an hour afterwards, basking in the afterglow of a
blissful feeling she would have thought impossible.



   Night came eventually, and she slinked out of the house in search of a
nest to sleep in.  She had managed it several times before now, telling her
parents she was staying over at a friend's, but showering before her return
had always made things tricky.  Now it didn't matter, and she could sleep
where she liked.  She selected a large dumpster in an alley behind a
butchers' shop, hauling open the lid and clambering in to warm air that was
fetid and damp from the decay processes going on in the confined space. 
She felt the waste yield beneath her feet as she stepped in, and sank back
into the embrace of the plastic garbage bags.



   There was a tiny hint of movement by her hand, and she scratched at a
plastic bag, tearing it open with her fingernail.  To her delight, a clump
of maggots burst from the split sack.  She lay as still as she could,
biting her lip as she felt dozens of little bodies squirm along her arm and
across her chest.  She giggled as one or two of the maggots made their way
down to her navel, and investigated it by crawling inside.  As more of
their brothers joined them from the bulging garbage sack, she reached
inside though the tear.  When she withdrew her arm it was glistening with
slime, covered with the squirming, white grubs.  With her other hand, she
very gently swept some of them onto her chest, pulling her t-shirt further
up and encouraging them up between her breasts.  The maggots became more
active, and Kate lay in the dumpster as hundreds of them writhed over her
body with light, tickling touches, every so often pausing to nip at her
skin with a tiny pinching sensation.



   She drifted off to sleep, with a contented smile on her face.



   --



   Becky had spent the first few months of the summer vacation hunting
around for a job, with little success.  Naturally, she had drifted apart
from many of her classmates since graduation, and so she was surprised when
she received a call from her classmate, Kate, whom she only knew from
having to work with her on a class assignment.



   "Kate!  What's up?" she answered.

   "Becky...  I've done something.  I need your help.  Come round my
place?"

   "Is everything OK, Kate?"

   "Come round?  Please?"

   "Kate, I'm really not sure that-"



   The other girl had already hung up.  Becky had no idea why she would
have called her specifically.  The girl didn't seem to have any friends, as
far as she could tell.  She weighed up her options of spending another
tedious day searching for a job, or making the visit.



   Five minutes later she was on the bus, and on her way to Kate's house.



   She arrived, and thought it strange how all the curtains were closed. 
She knocked at the door, and tried the handle after waiting for a response
that did not come.  It was open.  Becky peeked her head around the
doorframe, wrinkling her nose at the odour that assailed her nostrils.  The
place seemed to be in dire need of a good clean.



   "Kate?" she called.

   No response.  She stepped through into the hallway.



   There was a burst of movement to her left side.  The door exploded open,
and Kate emerged through it.  She was holding a baseball bat for some
reason that eluded Becky, and that was all she had time to think of before
the girl brought it crashing down onto her skull, knocking her out cold.



   --



   There was no way to tell how much time had passed.  Becky opened her
eyes, and the light only exacerbated the throbbing pain in her head.  She
seemed to be lying on a bed.  The ceiling above her was stained.  She
groaned, and tried to rub her eyes, catching her breath as she felt
something dig into the skin of her wrist, holding her hand immobile.  She
turned her head to one side.



   There was a dark ring of black, clotted blood around her wrist.  It was
wreathed in barbed wire that was wrapped around her arm and tied off to the
frame of the bed below her.  Her other wrist was likewise secured, and her
hand was a distressing shade of dark pink where the constricting wire had
cut off her circulation.  She tensed her legs, and a series of prickling
stabs came from her ankles, which were bound in the same manner.  She was
completely nude.  There was no trace of her clothes nearby.



   Kate was perched on the end of the bed, and looking at Becky with a
disquieting grin.



   "I see you're awake, finally," she said.

   "Kate, what the fuck?  What's going on?"

   "I was lonely," she said.  "So I thought I'd find someone to play with."

   "Let me go, Kate."

   "Why would I do that?" she asked innocently.  "We're only just
starting."



   Kate shuffled up onto the bed, and then shifted around so that she was
kneeling with one leg either side of Becky's midriff, allowing Becky to get
her first real look at the girl.  She was wearing simple undergarments: a
white sports bra with rust-coloured streaks in various places, and a pair
of white cotton panties.  They were heavily-stained in the front with
yellow patches.  The girl's shoulder-length hair was greasy and dull. 
There was a very nasty-looking rash spreading across her forearms and
belly. Becky remembered that she had been fairly acne-ridden at high
school, but she seemed to have gotten a lot worse over the summer.



   "Seriously, Kate, stop it.  I'm hurt.  It hurts!" Becky's voice began to
sound desperate.  She tried moving her hands to illustrate her point, and
her bonds brought forth fresh blood to mingle with the clots on her wounds.



   "I'm going to share something with you..." said Kate.



   She launched into a mumbling, confused-sounding monologue about plague
and disease and mankind's hubris, and all the while this was going on Becky
was trying to wriggle free of her bonds, desperately tensing her arms and
legs to find any give in the wire wrappings, tears welling up in her eyes
as the cruel barbs dug deeper into her skin.



   "Kate!" she cried, "stop it, let me go!  Let me go!" Her pleas were
becoming hysterical.  In response, the girl kneeling over her merely
smiled, and brought her index finger against Becky's lips.



   "Not yet..." she said.



   Kate slid her legs out sideways, lowering herself down so that she was
sitting on Becky's stomach, straddling her.  She placed her hands on
Becky's shoulders and looked her straight in the eyes.



   There was a warm feeling around Becky's abdomen.  A wet,
rapidly-spreading puddle of warmth.  She looked down, and saw that the girl
was urinating on her.  She looked back at Kate.  Maybe this wasn't actually
happening, maybe it was all some horrible dream, or hallucination.  She
looked back down.  The urine was spilling over the sides of her tummy,
drawn more quickly between her flanks and Kate's thighs.  Some of it was
dripping onto the floor already.  She could feel a lukewarm patch growing
beneath her as it soaked into the mattress.



   "Kate..."



   The girl still had that idiot grin on her face, and it stayed there as
she continued to piss on the helpless girl.  Eventually she finished, and
lifted one leg up to dismount the bed and stand alongside it.  Her inner
thighs were slick.  The odour was already beginning to fill the room.



   Becky was genuinely speechless.  There was no way she could rationalise
being knocked out, tied up and then pissed on by this clearly deranged
girl.



   Without another word, Kate stood up and left the room.  The door
slamming shut awoke something in Becky's senses, and she started screaming
for help at the top of her lungs.  There were other houses around here. 
Surely someone would hear her.



   Her cries were short-lived.  After a minute or so, Kate returned,
holding a roll of surgical bandage from a first-aid kit.  She unravelled a
strip and wadded it up while she walked over to stand next to Becky.  She
flinched away as Kate reached towards her face, and then she wrenched
Becky's mouth open suddenly, with her fingers, just long enough to shove in
the wad of material.  She wound the roll of bandage around Becky's head,
gagging her tightly, muffling her cries.  She left the room again, leaving
Becky to whimper and tug uselessly at her restraints.  She had left the
door open this time, and Becky could hear sounds of movement as the girl
made her way around the house: something being dragged across the floor. 
Another door clicking open.  Then a weird, liquid sound.



   The same pattern of noises continued for some time.  Drag.  Click. 
Slosh.  Repeat.  All the while this was going on, the smell in the place
seemed to be getting worse.  Becky could hear the constant buzzing of
flies, and was powerless to do anything when they landed on her.  Several
of the fat, furry insects had alighted on her crotch, perhaps attracted by
the scent of the other girl's piss.  They were pacing around, tickling at
her skin infuriatingly as the scuttled this way and that, pausing to rub
their forelegs against their heads, sometimes flying away only to land
somewhere else on her moments after.



   An hour passed before she saw Kate again.  This time, when she returned,
her arms were covered to the elbows in putrid slime, mingled hues of brown
and red that dripped from her fingertips in mucous strands.  The flies
exploded into the air all at once as she entered, as if to greet her.



   "It's time, Becky.  I'm going to share my gift with you."



   She had brought some thick, plastic zip-ties with her.  Holding them in
a bunch, she walked over to the head end of the bed and clambered on top.
As the girl manoeuvred, Becky could see what was about to happen, and let
out a muffled cry of protest as the girl sat down on her face.  Her panties
were still damp.  Becky's entire world became warm, clammy and acrid.  She
tried to move her head away, but she was unable.



   Kate continued to hold Becky immobile like that as she attached the
zip-ties to the barbed wire that was wrapped around her wrists.  By
securing the windings in place before cutting them away from the bed frame
with a pair of pliers, she was able to fashion the bindings into a set of
improvised handcuffs.  Before long, Becky's arms were freed from the bed,
with her arms bound together behind her and new trickles of blood seeping
from her increasingly agitated wounds.



   Kate did not bind her feet.  Instead, she wrapped more of the barbed
wire around them, beneath the soles and around the ankles.  Then she cut
away the tethers holding her ankles to the bed.



   "Stand," she said.



   Becky sat up on the damp mattress.  She swung her legs over the side of
the bed and hesitated.  There were dozens of wire barbs between the soles
of her feet and the floor.



   "Stand!" Kate grabbed Becky by the shoulders, and pulled her up off the
bed.  She made a strangled screaming noise through her gag as her whole
weight pushed the metal barbs into her feet; they were forced up into her
soles, dozens of vicious stabs.  She stumbled forward and collapsed to her
knees.  Her face was wet with tears, and her chest was heaving as she
struggled for breath while she sobbed.



   "It won't matter soon," said Kate.  "But I needed to be sure you weren't
going to run away.  I doubt you can get far like that.  Now walk with me."



   She grabbed Becky under her armpits and pulled her upright, causing her
to scream out again in agony.  She tugged her out of the room by her arm,
and Becky stumbled forward, leaving a trail of bloody footprints.  The pain
was unbearable.  She was blind as she screwed her eyes shut out of reflex,
as if trying to escape from it.  The girl continued to yank on her arm, and
after a blur of agonizing footsteps she found herself in a bathroom.



   Dozens of flies crawled over the tiled walls or hummed lazily through
the air, filling the room with their droning.  The stench was unbearable.
It emanated from the contents of the bathtub, which was two-thirds filled
with offal and dismembered meat in various states of decay - a soupy mass
of lumps and slimy liquid.



   Becky took a step backwards.  She bumped into Kate, who was now standing
behind her.  The girl wrapped her arms around Becky from behind, clasping
them together in front of her.  She saw that Kate held a utility knife in
her hand.



   "You're so lucky I'm sharing this with you," she said, her face inches
alongside Becky's.  "The best thing to happen to me was finding the Plague
Father.  And now you can serve him as well, Becky.  We'll be like sisters."



   Becky could only manage hysterical, muffled cries in reply as Kate
brought the blade up towards her face.



   "He's even here now," she said, "come to watch your transformation. 
Isn't he beautiful?"



   Kate was gesturing towards the doorway.  Becky didn't get what or whom
she was talking about, but was more concerned with the knife in the girl's
hand.

   "You've got to let them inside, Becky," she said.  "Let them inside you.
Here..."



   There was a cold feeling as Becky felt the blade pressed between her
collarbones, at the top of her chest.  Her screams were muted as the blade
was drawn downwards slowly and deliberately, scoring a shallow cut all the
way to her navel.  She tried to twist her body away, a surge of pain from
her maimed feet caused her to tumble to the floor, and then Kate was on top
of her, slicing a deep cut in her cheek with the razored blade.



   "Got to give them lots of places to get in, just like me..." she
murmured, cupping one of Becky's breasts in her hand while sinking the
blade into it from above.  "Lots of places..."



   Another cut, laterally across her belly.  A deep gash was torn in
Becky's arm, and she felt her stomach twinge as she saw the sickly white of
bone and tendon showing through the wound for the instant before it was
covered over with oozing, venous blood.  She felt a tugging sensation on
her other breast, and saw that Kate had slashed a series of cuts down one
side.  The fatty tissues inside it were yellow, covered with a bloom of red
pinpricks as scores of tiny blood vessels voided their contents.  The
individual sensations merged into a pervasive agony; Becky could feel her
throat becoming hoarse from futile, muffled screams, and then her ruined
feet bloomed with pain once more as Kate hauled her to her feet and held
her over the edge of the bathtub.



   "See in there?" she was saying.  "Organs.  Offal.  All of them hosting
their own colonies of unique microbes.  By now there's more complex life in
there as well...  eggs, parasites..."



   She grabbed Becky by the chin and pulled her face-to-face.



   "And it's all going inside you," she said.



   With her arms still bound, Becky could do nothing as the girl grabbed
her by the ankles, pushing her up and over into the bath.  She hit the stew
of animal entrails face-first and plunged beneath it, feeling slimy,
gelatinous masses yield before her and surge around her.  The liquid was
warm from its own decay.  As it splashed into the myriad cuts and gashes on
her body, the pain increased in a way she would not have thought possible.
Fragments of necrotic waste meat churned against her raw, exposed flesh. 
Her blood mingled with the brew of uncountable body fluids.



   Her head broke through the surface.  Kate had wrestled her bodily into
the tub, and was holding her down by her shoulders.  The onslaught of the
noxious bath was too much, and Becky's stomach surged violently, spewing up
vomit which could find no exit from her mouth.  She felt the acrid, gritty
feel of the puke filling her mouth, and then her stomach urged again.  With
no other exit, the vomit streamed from her nose.  She gasped for breath out
of reflex, and felt chunks and fluid dragged down into her lungs.



   She thrashed in the bath, spluttering, lungs burning, her sight going
dim as the lack of air started to take its toll.  With each missed breath
she became weaker, and her limbs started to feel heavy.  Black spots swam
across her vision, and her ears seemed to be overcome with the sound of
ringing, or rushing blood, or maybe both.  She tried to kick out, and found
her legs unresponsive.



   Her last sight was Kate's manic grin before she blacked out.  The warm,
foetid soup enveloped her as she sank beneath it.