THE ZINE THATÕS IN FULL CONFORMITY WITH THE THATCH ACT!
Andrew Roller Presents
FUCK DECENCY
Issue No. 149
Naughty Naked Dreamgirls in
Amsterdam Damsels
Chapter One
Ah, how I shivered, walking away from all that. Cybil treaded softly
behind me, seeing my hips sway, knowing my wants, my wretched needs.
Here in this amazing place new thoughts came to me, unbidden. Thoughts
from girlhood dreams, but more vivid, of hunters on the chase, of little
fawns running, of Paul Bunyan stooping down and grabbing me up from my
woodland rabbithole. His cock bulged in his trousers. His axe threatened
to rend me if I did not obey. I would be his bedmate, or his dinner. It was
my decision, yes. Either way I would have to spread. To be stuffed in bed,
or in the kitchen, turkey-like, for his evening meal.
ÒCome, such fine equipment must not go to waste,Ó Kali teasingly
told Alex. He was limp now. I saw his genitals as he passed a hallway
mirror. KaliÕs voice was sardonic. Yet I knew her words to be truthful,
for in his hardness he was amazing indeed. A cockstand fit for a
champion, I thought. He had eaten Wheaties as a boy and they had grown
him up tall as the wheatfields of Kansas. Where it counted. The third leg.
A leg of lamb, or of cock, my dear. We shall stuff it up your turkey-twat.
Instinctively I touched myself. Cybil, behind me, saw my squeezing,
noted the pressing juncture of my thighs.
ÒDo you have to pee?Ó she asked.
ÒA little,Ó I answered. We both knew, though, that it was passion
that had impelled my hand. Our eyes met. I thought her pretty then, her
full gypsy figure, bosoming into my bosoms, her hips wider than mine,
full-formed. I felt a yearning as I had not ever before. A woman? Was I,
a female myself, so impressed with a fellow female that I would...?
God, love is strange. It was the environment, I know. The big house,
the echoing halls. From the outside it looked unimpressive but once
within its walls new expanses seemed to appear. Dr. Who in his phone
booth, traveling the lanes of love. Yes, I was the Good Doctoress, wasnÕt
I? Exploring in the name of science.
Kali looked over her shoulder. There was a grin on her face. She
squeezed AlexÕs behind reassuringly, impelling him forward. Lost in his
loss he did not know of my imminent departure.
ÒI had a pet dog once,Ó Cybil began, gazing into my eyes. ÒA little
dog. I lived in an apartment then. When it wanted to pee I took it outside
for a little walk. The gentlemen admired me. And my little dog too.Ó Did
I hear the voice of the Wicked Witch of the West? Was I in Oz now,
threatened, or loved? Cybil turned me about. ÒIt frames your ass
beautifully, but really, doggies do not need such things,Ó she said of my
corset. She unlaced me. I stood quietly. I liked having the corset off.
Why wear it, when I was otherwise naked? It seemed unfair. A kind of
last remnant of civilization, of morality, in a world, a displaced place,
that had freed itself of such cumbersome things.
Cybil eased the corset off my figure. I breathed easily. I found new
freedom in the sleek hefting of my ribs beneath my breasts, expanding as I
breathed. Cybil stroked my mane of blonde hair. Her hands flitted over my
bottom. She turned me round. I faced her. My cunny tingling, my breasts
thorn-like at their peaks, I let my eyes gaze into hers. They were
mysterious, plotting.
ÒThe shoes are perfect,Ó she said. ÒBut you need a collar, a leash.Ó I
let her fingers play over my hips, trace their outlines. I wanted to explore
new frontiers with her. To go where no girl had gone before. We would go
to places John Luc Picard never dreamed of.
Cybil took me into the kitchen. She opened a drawer. She took out a
collar. It was made of rough leather. She buckled it on me. ÒToo tight?Ó
she asked. I nodded. She loosened it a notch. I felt the leather against my
skin. The inside of it had been softened somehow. It was not
uncomfortable. She attached a leash to me from behind. I wore the collar
backwards. The leash ran down my back and its tip settled in my
bottomcrack. I felt as if I were being silently invaded by it. When I
shifted my weight it moved, rustled. ÒSo pretty,Ó Cybil said, admiring me.
ÒCome upstairs with me. I must dress. We must take a walk in the park
so you can pee. Do you have to poop? Here, have these granola bars. Munch
on them while you await me.Ó I looked at the bars. I could not believe her
wickedness.
ÒYou could not,Ó I breathed. I wanted to obey, to be her friend, but it
was so strange, so bizarre. It was the kind of thing you read about on
a.s.s., saying to yourself, ÔOh sure, sure this would happen. Sure they
would do this. Exon should ban stuff like this, it is so silly.Õ But, perhaps
because of the impossibility of it in my mind, the utter nonsensicalness of
it, I lifted the granola bar to my lips and bit into it. ÒMmmm, roasted
chestnuts,Ó I admitted, smiling at the taste.
ÒWith a mild laxative,Ó she replied. They were medicinal bars, but
they tasted good. ÒEat your fill, I want you to make a nice poop in the
park, in front of all the gentlemen. I have a pooper-scooper, donÕt worry.
If youÕre too runny afterward I can give you something to stop you up
again. But there shouldnÕt be any problem. ItÕs mostly just wholesome
food. Fill up your tummy. I may lock you in the dungeon afterward and
mightnÕt get anything more for days.Ó
I bit again. I felt like a fish. I was hooked. She had me, my cunny
wet and tingling, my nipples poking up at her, my breasts uptilted in their
fulsomeness. She watched me eat a moment, then turned, beckoned me to
follow. Upstairs we went together. We held hands on the stairsteps and
mounted them together. In the distance I heard a man groan and the
cracking of a leather whip. Alex. Kali. I knew he was getting punished for
spilling his seed. ÒHe deserves it,Ó I said smugly to Cybil. She smiled,
said nothing.
Despite her arousal, Cybil encumbered herself with clothes. She put
on panties first. Then stockings, drawing them tight, hooking them with
the garters of a corset she made me tie her into. Then came a hooped
skirt, eighteenth-century style. Lastly a bonnet, and a parasol. She
repaired her makeup, then mine.
ÒCome, dear, we must have your walk now,Ó she said to me. I felt
shiveringly vulnerable in my nakedness. At the door she donned gloves. A
final touch of civility. Then we left her bedroom behind. Did I envy her
her clothes? I did not know. Surely I would soon. It depended on where
we went, didnÕt it? Were we leaving the house? Surely we could not!
Downstairs we went. Near the front door she stopped. She turned
into a small bathroom. She took a towel from the towel bar there. She
brought it to me folded over her arm. ÒHere, put this on,Ó she said. I took
it from her. It smelled fresh. It was soft. Carefully I wrapped it around
myself. It barely fit. I saw how it indented my breasts, leaving them
bulging out, just covering the nipples. Below it just stretched far enough
to hide my pubis.
ÒThey will think we are going to a public bath,Ó Cybil smiled. She
took my hand.
ÒWhat about Kali?Ó I asked.
ÒNo matter,Ó Cybil replied. Alex has his hands full with her. He
doesnÕt need another tormentress. He will wish soon he hadnÕt paid for her
services, let alone yours.Ó We approached the front door together, hand-
holding, girls going to nursery school together. Leaning against the front
door I saw it. A pooper-scooper. Who had placed it there? Becky? Did
she know of my fate? I blushed deeply, thinking she might. That such a
little urchin should know...
We stepped outside. It was dark. Somberly the street lights lit the
pavement with little pools of light. A police car slipped past, unseeing.
We stood on CybilÕs porch, bathed in shadow. A limo pulled up. It was
rented, I saw. The driver! He at least would see me! I could not bear the
thought. Cybil pressed my hand firmly, drew me forward. I stumbled down
the front porch steps. My heels were spiky, showy. They were not good
for walking in. Tucking a finger into the top of my towel to keep it up, I
walked down the frontyard walkway with Cybil beside me. I dared not
glance to the left or the right. My hair hung alongside my eyes, hiding my
face a little, disguising me. I thought I heard laughter in the distance,
voices. Were people sitting out on their front porch? It was warm out. I
prayed they were inside, their voices drifting out through open windows.
The limo driver got out, awaited us. He opened the limo door. Cybil
made me get in first, followed. I smelled fresh leather, clean, newly
polished. I was glad of it. My bare bottom made contact with it. I held
the towel to me, clinging to it like some stricken passenger might hold a
life preserver on the drowning Titanic.
We sped away from CybilÕs house, from Hell. But where were we
going? Cybil took out a blindfold from some hidden place in her bodice.
ÒYou must not know, dear, it is the rules,Ó she said. Quietly she tied the
blindfold over my eyes. I sat still, feeling the soft swathing fabric bind
me. I was blind now, a young Oedipus. When she was done Cybil stroked
my nearest thigh. Shiveringly I sat beside her, anxious, uncertain. I was a
fawn. I had submitted to the huntress. I did not have to be shot.
We rode. We arrived. I was taken from the limo. I was brought
inside, still blindfolded, unknowing. I heard voices. We walked, me
unsteady in my heels, Cybil firmly striding, guiding me.
My blindfold was unfurled. I blinked. I was in a backyard garden. My
breath caught in my throat. My titties bobbed on my chest in surprise. I
saw gentlemen, suavely dressed, women too, some attired like Cybil.
ÒWhat a pleasant surprise,Ó a woman said, coming forward. She had
red hair. It was piled atop her head. She wore a formal gown, all frilly,
sequined. Without any introduction she took my chin, kissed me on my
mouth. Her tongue drove into me and stabbed within my mouth. She
released me. She drew back. She smiled.
ÒMay I walk my doggie?Ó Cybil asked. Her voice was sweet,
plaintive.
ÒYes, please do,Ó the woman answered. Cybil took me by my leash.
She lifted it off my back, out of the slumbering crease of my bottom.
ÒDown, doggie,Ó Cybil told me. She brushed my long hair with her
hand as she spoke. Feeling awkward, almost wanting to laugh, yet
mortified, I knelt onto the ground. It was soft grass, Japanese grass. It
would not hurt me. ÒUp with your bottom,Ó Cybil said. She lifted her
open-toed shoe, pressed her toes to my belly. I leaned forward and arched
my butt up. I did not want to, knew I had to. ÒWiggle it, show it off,Ó
Cybil urged. I waggled my butt like a dog, feeling ludicrous, blushing
deeply. Right down to my toes.
ÒAh, delightful creature,Ó I heard a woman sigh.
ÒShe is not house-broken, though,Ó Cybil replied. ÒI must use your
yard.Ó
ÒGo ahead,Ó the red-haired woman answered. She seemed eager to
see my display. I felt my need then, knew I had suppressed it on the ride
over. But no. I would not do it. I would not embarrass myself in front of
these strangers by doing such horrid things. Peeing? Pooping? It was
awful, truly!
Cybil toed my bottom. ÒGo,Ó she said. I hoped she meant to move, to
crawl, for I pawed my way forward across the grass in response. ÒOh! She
IS a doggie!Ó Cybil, evidently surprised, cried out. She followed. I pulled
on my leash like an eager puppy.
The yard was bright as day. Overhead lamps lit my bottom-rolling
four-legged crawl across the grass. I found a bed of flowers. Daffodils.
Delicately I sniffed them. I liked their fresh scent. I kneed on. I met a
man. He gazed down at me, quite pleased with my demeanor. I wagged my
tail at him. I could not help it. I felt a fullness in my bladder, in my
nether tube. I realized I had to go pretty badly. Could I hold it? Would
they let me prance around a bit and then let me get up, like a dignified
young lady, and go use the toilet? As I watched the man unzipped himself.
His cock stemmed out. The garden party was sprouting new growth. A
dozen penises soon burst forth from flies and stood quavering in the air,
fully erect, all deliciously over-sized, long and wiggly, with perfect
heads.
I lost my head, my manners. I squatted as neatly as I could and let
my bottom hang behind my heels. I was grateful for their height, now.
They would keep me aloft, above the impending puddle. Looking up at the
man, I peed into the grass.
ÒAh, not housebroken indeed,Ó a woman said behind me. I shivered.
It was the redhead. Lightly she caressed my back. When I was finished I
stood. The game was over, wasnÕt it? I was heel deep in a puddle. I could
not crawl out of it without splashing myself.
ÒCome here,Ó the redhead said. She took my hand. I thought she
would lead me to the privacy of a bathroom for my number two. Instead
she took me out to the daffodils. She turned me around. There was a
whiff of lilacs in the air, from nearby bushes. ÒPlease fertilize my
plants,Ó she said. She pushed my head down, a hand under my belly. Like a
mechanism she bent me forward. I grabbed my knees. She pushed against
my back and I let my hands slide farther down my legs in response. My
long hair hung down. It wavered softly in the air.
The redhead separated my legs. I adjusted, letting her part me,
knowing I could not do otherwise. Cybil appeared beside me, her pooper-
scooper in her hand, but I guessed she would not get to use it. My shit was
needed, according to the redhead.
ÒPoop,Ó the redhead commanded. I felt my titties flinch at that. My
bottom quavered. I did not want to. I felt the enema at work, the laced
granola bars. Their remains slid down my chute. I drew in my cheeks,
trying to stop them. I felt fullness. ÒBear down, child,Ó the redhead said,
stroking my hinds with swirling fingertips. In a moment I would be dirty.
I gritted my teeth. I flexed my cheeks, feeling a sliding within me.
And then, then I knew. Something big was nosing its way out of my hiney.
My virgin hole. Nothing had ever gone up it. But this one was big, coming
down. Would it prepare me?
A plop. I looked between my slim, spread legs. At my heels, just
beyond the spikes, a big turd lay upon the daffodils. It would nourish
them. I felt another one coming.
ÒAh, a perfect stool,Ó the redhead announced. People gathered round
me. There was a murmuring. Cocks were fondled. Dresses were upraised
and pussies sought. ÒGood, good,Ó the redhead told me. I heard a snip. A
branch was passed to her from a nearby tree. It was a birch branch, newly
budded. I did not like that. It scared me. I urged my bowels to expel the
turds faster. Plop! Plop! Two more. I felt grateful. I thanked myself for
eating just the right amount of granolas. Enough to actually go, when
needed, here in the garden; not so many as to embarrass myself. I had not
planned it. I had prayed. God had answered.
Hoping to avoid the birch, I knelt again. I felt a last tardy turd make
its way down my passage. I spread my knees on the grass. I forced it out.
Then, lickety-split, I headed across the grass. My leash trailed out behind
me and dragged along, loosely. I was a loose doggie. Someone would have
to catch me.
I spied a sprinkler. Yes! God was with me tonight, despite my
immense sinfulness. I drew the leash into a coil in front of me. I turned
around. I backed into the sprinkler. I felt a rush of terrible excitement as
I gasped at the icy sprinkler water spritzing onto my behind. I was
douching myself, right here, at the garden party! In front of two dozen
people, elegant strangers. I giggled. It was too silly to be true. Yet I was
doing it! I wagged my hiney in the cooling chill of the prickling sprinkler.
My lovely hair tumbled over my face, still dry, my boobies hanging dry and
bare beneath me. Only my bottom was wet. I kept my legs apart, trying to
aim the spray just where it was needed. I was fortunate. It was
reasonably well-directed.
ÒShe is beautiful beyond belief,Ó a woman said of me, coming up.
They all gathered around me. A few stole away, in the distance, to
undress more fully. They were unable to wait any longer. Could I wait? I
gazed up at the gorgeous cocks arrayed over my head. I licked my lips.
Instantly I knew it was a mistake, for they all interpreted it as an
invitation.
WOGG
The sleeper must awaken.
VIABILITY
Reality prods WoggÕs comatose
uncomfortably--
like crouching
upon
a wet toilet seat.
QUAKER-PSYCHOLOGY
Like instant oatmeal,
sanity coagulates around Wogg.
Wogg stirs,
wakens
mushy-headed.
BORN AGAIN
Wogg
passes
within--
emerges
blood/blue
scream/squirm.
THE SECOND COMING
Crow circles
Mongrel growls
Morrigan laughs
Wogg skulks toward Bethlehem
to sup on Christian afterbirth.
AND IN THE END...
ÒYÕknow, I kinda liked ham. Then one day they passed a law that
said I could ONLY eat ham. Now I hate ham.Ó
- Anonymous (FartlettÕs Quotations, pg. 8,273).
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-END OF 149 EMISSION