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   (For the original A House In Gross Disorder, see
https://muse.jhu.edu/article/44333)

   Jenny's Couch Book IV: A House In Gross Disorder, part 16 (Mg, Mgg, ped,
drugs, pierce, body-mod, cons, n/c, forced-exhib, oral)

   It was over a year before I saw Lilah again.

   When Rubin died it caught us all a little flat-footed.  I mean, if I'd
expected anyone to be fucked to death it would've been Lilah by her dad and
not the other way around.  Fortunately Moira's friend Marco and his biker
associates came through for us.  Not for free, of course - we let them take
whatever they wanted from the Dauberstein house and that turned out to be
enough to fill a medium-sized U-haul.  The appliances, the electronics,
Rubin's long-neglected coin collection, Eliana's jewelry, their art
collection, some of the furniture - it all went into the van.  As did
Rubin, wrapped, I swear to god, in a rug that we found in the attic.  Just
like in every movie farce I'd ever seen.  And of course, to make it really
worth their while, included in Rubin's possessions was Lilah.

   My last view of her was kneeling in her cage, fingers of one hand
gripping the wire and the thumb of the other in her mouth.  She was naked.
Her fine blond hair was a mess of tangles and knots.  Her skin was grimy
and smeared with magic marker.  The knobs of her spine poked out through
her back.  There were old bruises on her ribcage and around her neck.  The
bruising on her vulva was fresh, though, a dark, mottled purple.  It bulged
out between her thighs where she crouched.  It was swollen to the point
where the heavy bootlaces piercing her were deeply indented into the
empurpled flesh.  The laces were pulled tight and tied into a bow, mashing
her lips together and distorting her slit into a jagged zig-zag.  She
stared at the denuded living room with empty blue eyes.  I'm not sure she
realized that her father had died even though it had happened while she was
riding his dick.  She watched the bustle around her with confusion and a
vague sadness.  Occasionally a full-body shudder rippled through her,
making the cage rattle softly on the hardwood floor.  Finally, one of the
bikers threw a sheet over the cage, picked it up, took it outside and put
it in the back of the van, next to her father's dead body.

   After that we all waited for the bomb to drop.  But Marco came through.
Somehow his connections were able to transfer ownership of the house. 
Moira may have had to forge her erstwhile employer's signature.  I didn't
ask.  But after a few weeks the house was first emptied completely, then
cleaned and repainted, and then rented.  As more time crawled by with no
word and no alarms I gradually let out the breath I'd been holding.

   I didn't get to relax for long.  And then after what happened to poor
Moira I didn't think I'd ever relax again.  I didn't dare leave Karen on
her own.  For weeks I stayed in the city so that I was no more than minutes
away if Renee called.  It was like Karen was trying to get caught.  More
than once I answered my phone and had to tear off to the park, up the hill
to that nasty-ass Baptist college, and once in an alley in broad daylight,
to wrap a cheap robe around her shoulders, bundle her into the truck, and
speed off, praying to all the gods I didn't believe in that no one had
snapped a picture of a naked twelve-year-old hobbling along with semen
drooling out of her cunt, her ass, her mouth, or all three.

   But she was a resilient child.  Given the life she had lived since I
raped her at age 11 - first forced into prostitution and then deliberately
and carefully abused until she came to believe it was God's will and her
destiny to open her legs to any man who would pay - she'd had to be.  And
slowly her terrible grief and guilt ebbed.  Things never completely
returned to the status quo ante.  Karen seemed to take more chances than
before.  Not chances of discovery, but she was willing to take on a much
rougher trade.  She went to these encounters grimly, determinedly, like a
child submitting herself to a punishment she knew she'd earned.  More than
once Renee extracted her from a situation that threatened to get out of
control.  More than once I had to help Karen disguise welts or cuts or
burns which she at least retained the sense to only acquire where they
could be covered by her clothing.

   But finally I was willing to gamble Karen would be ok.  My income had
taken quite a hit by only taking in-town jobs for months, so when I was
offered several weeks of work at a site upstate with a good rate and a
generous per diem, I took it in order to make a start at rebuilding my
depleted savings.  A screwup - not mine - had the job shut down for several
days in the middle of my contract.  So I found myself back at the hotel
right after lunch.  It was too late to make a start at driving home - I
don't care for driving at night - but too early to go to bed.  I flipped
around the tv, leaving it on the local promo channel just for the noise.  I
smoked a joint and was zoning out, more than half asleep, when - "Holy
shit!" I actually shouted aloud and sat bolt upright.  The tv was playing a
bunch of ads for local attractions and the name of a nearby state forest
had just flashed on the screen.  I knew that name.

   I filled the hotel-room mini-coffeepot, stumbled into the bathroom and
washed my face while it brewed, trying to shake out the cobwebs.  I opened
up the maps app on my phone while sipping at the too-hot, too-bitter hotel
coffee.  It took a while, but I found what I was looking for.  I finished
my coffee and changed into jeans and a black tshirt, pulled on my work
boots and headed out.

   The sun had set before I pulled off a gravel road onto a private drive
of crumbling asphalt.  After a few hundred feet the asphalt disintegrated
entirely and the drive opened up into a dirt and gravel parking lot.  There
was a building on either side of the lot and a field with encroaching woods
behind.  The building to the right had a neon sign over an open door. 
Light spilling out of the door glinted off the chrome on a row of
motorcycles parked in front of the other structure.  When I killed the
truck engine I heard heavy dance rock echoing between the buildings.  This
was the place.

   I stepped through the doorway, squinting against cigarette smoke so
thick it was like a physical barrier.  My eyes burned.  Blinking away
tears, I saw that the same enormous biker was working the bar just like the
last time I'd been here.  He was wearing a sleeveless tshirt that strained
to cover his massive barrel chest.  Muscles bulged beneath the full-sleeve
tattoos on both arms.  He was staring at me and he did not look friendly.
His hands were not visible behind the bar.

   I very carefully kept my eyes on his, not looking to left or right, as I
walked slowly up to the bar.  I put my hands flat on the scarred wood and
eased onto a stool.  "You remember me?" I asked.  "I was here about a year
ago.  With Moira."

   Some of the hardness went out of his eyes.  One hand came up with a
dirty rag that he began slowly wiping the bar top with.  His knuckles were
scarred and swollen.  "Shame about what happened," he said neutrally.

   I nodded.  "It was a long time coming.  She just couldn't get past her
shit." I shrugged.  "That's part of why I stopped by.  Dunno if you knew,
she gave the club a gift last year.  I was wondering if it was still
around." I wasn't sure where he stood in the MC hierarchy and I wasn't sure
what had happened to Lilah and who was in the know.  I didn't want to risk
being the information leak.

   But Kilamanjaro - as I was calling him in my head - understood.  His
face relaxed into a crooked half smile, showing some missing teeth.  "The
kid?  Yeah, you can talk to her as soon as she's done with her breakfast."
He jerked his chin and I turned to look behind me, squinting through the
haze of smoke.  Sure enough, in a corner booth there were four men dressed
like Rotary Club members, looking uneasy and out-of-place.  At least three
of them did.  The fourth had his eyes closed and his head resting against
the back of the booth.  His pants were around his ankles and crouched
between his pale, bony knees was a slight, pale form.  I saw a mop of
yellow hair bobbing up and down.

   It was pretty unusual for a child of - how old was she now?  Still
eight? - to be having breakfast after nightfall.  But I guess, no more
unusual than if her breakfast was entirely composed of semen.  And that
seemed to be the case.  Lilah worked her way around the booth, blowing each
of the men in turn and apparently swallowing every drop.  When she was done
with the fourth she got to her feet, stretching her back.  In the dim, hazy
light of the barroom I could see that she was entirely naked.  There were
odd glints off her bare skin, and I squinted to see better but before I
could focus she turned and trotted over to another table where a man was
waving a red ticket at her.  There was no negotiation or any conversation
at all.  The little girl dropped to all fours and crawled underneath the
table.  This was a six-top.  The men were dressed roughly, in dirty jeans
and tees.  One was still wearing an orange safety vest.  Again, Lilah
worked her way around the table efficiently.  She was close enough to me
now that I could hear the unmistakable sound of her gagging as she forced
her head down to take each cock into her throat, and then slurping and
choking sounds as it plunged in and out of her gullet.  The little girl was
still able to swallow an adult penis, if not effortlessly, then without
protest.  She did so even when she was given the choice, when she wasn't
roughly grabbed by the hair or the ears and forced down into a hairy
crotch.

   I was starting on my second beer when Lilah climbed out from under the
table, having completed a further six blow jobs.  She stood up a little
shakily, with one hand on the table to steady herself.  Her face was mostly
turned away and in shadow to me and there were odd little reflections,
glints of light as she raised one hand to her chin, wiped it clean and
avidly licked at her palm.  Then she looked around the room.  There were
four more men waving red tickets.  Wordlessly she trudged over to the next
and crawled under his table.

   In the time that it took me to drink two beers, little Lilah drank
fourteen loads of cum.  As far as I could see she never spat and caught
every dribble.  When she was finally done, she stood and looked at the
bartender.  He gestured her over.  The naked child was just tall enough to
see over the bar.  She stood with her hands gripping the edge.  She lifted
one foot to scratch the opposite calf.  Her soles were solid black with
dirt.  The bartender gave her a tray with a draft beer and an empty mug,
and pointed to where I was sitting.  The little girl walked slowly,
concentrating on balancing the tray with the two heavy beer mugs.  As she
approached I could hear the faint sticky sound as her filthy soles adhered
to the equally dirty floor.  But as her slender form emerged from the smoke
haze and general funk of the room, sound was wiped out of my attention. 
Just before she reached me she moved into the cone of a pinhole spotlight
and her bare body was fully illuminated.  My mouth fell open in shock. 
Lilah had tusks.

   That's right, tusks.  Projecting out of her mouth where her canines
would be, four wickedly sharp chromed tusks curved over her lips, two
pointing up and two more down.  They were a good two inches long, and
clashed together as she opened her mouth to speak.  They must have been the
source of the strange glints of light I saw as I watched her fellate all
those men.

   Then I got a good look at the face behind those tusks and, for a second
I thought I was going to faint.  My vision contracted until all I could see
was Lilah's face, but far away like it was at the end of a tunnel.  I drew
in a gasp and the oxygen cleared my vision.  The child was multiply
pierced. There was a large, heavy brass ring in her septum.  There were
smaller rings at her brows, 3 on each side, and a bar through the bridge of
her nose.  There was a labret on her chin, a coral rose about the size of a
nickel.  There were a dozen studs arranged in a spiral on one cheek and a
dozen more in a star pattern on the other.  Both her earlobes were
stretched out with 1/2-inch spacers.  There were rings through the
cartilage of each ear.  Tiny silver chains connected each ring to another
one at her nostril.  The chains were tight, pulling her nose out of shape
into an exaggerated pug.

   But it was the skin visible through all those piercings that made my
heart skip a beat.  Lilah had a tattoo, a full facial tattoo.  It was a
mask, one of those Japanese is-it-a-dog-is-it-a-lion faces.  Wildly
colored, its lips extending outwards from the child's own, curved in a
snarl.  A scarlet tongue extended down one side of her chin.  The whorls of
its mane covered her forehead, both cheeks, and past her jawline.  The
sides of her head were shaven and the mane covered the front of her smooth
scalp.  She only had a mohawk of her own hair - still blonde, still flyaway
fine, but long enough to trail halfway down her back.  She looked - I can't
describe how she looked.  An elementary school child with her face fully
obscured by a deliberately ugly, fierce tattoo.  It was horrifying yet
hypnotic.  Even her eyelids were inked with wild, staring eyes.  I'd never
known an adult nuts enough to do something like this.  It had to have been
incredibly painful to get done, and Lilah had been the kind of child that
sobbed over a skinned knee.

   As Lilah set down her tray, it barely registered atop all the other
outrages that her sclera had been dyed as well.  Her eyes were a solid dark
blue except for the wide black circles of her pupils.  She sat down in the
chair next to me.  Her feet didn't reach the floor and she swung them back
and forth.  As she opened her mouth to speak, I saw that all of the teeth
between those tusks - which close up I could see were actual implants
driven through her gums into her jaw - all eight of her incisors had been
removed.  There was nothing at the front of her mouth but ragged pink.

   "Hello, monthter," Lilah lisped, and then burped long and loud.  I
smelled the semen on her breath.  I could only sit and gape at her. 
"That'th who you are, right?  Monthterth can change your fathes, but I
remember you.  You're the whore monthter.  You bit my cunt!" The
combination of the tusks distorting her lips and the removal of all of her
front teeth made her lisp thicker than ever and added a wet slurping
quality to her sibilants.

   My mouth worked but my brain refused to engage.  All I could see was
Lilah as I had first met her, a bubbly, cute seven-year-old.  Slim, with a
surprisingly deep voice.  And then this...monstrosity before me.  She was a
head taller than I remembered.  If not as emaciated as she had been then,
she was still painfully thin, with knobby elbows and knees and prominent
pelvis, ribs, and collarbone.  Her voice was no longer the pure contralto I
remembered.  It was now whiskey and cigarettes rough, or maybe, I thought,
hundreds of cocks bruising her throat rough.  She chattered on, but I
couldn't take it in.  I was staring at her body.  I'd seen Lilah naked
plenty of times, but...whoever had done all this to her, hadn't stopped at
her face.  Her nipples were pierced.  Not just pierced: there was a little
tripod of metal straddling each one, and a very short silver chain from the
nipple ring to the peak of the tripod, so that her nipples, still
completely undeveloped, were nevertheless stretched out into peaks.

   "See?  See?" Lilah was pointing in the general direction of my head.  "I
knew it!" she exclaimed.  "You changed your face!  Now you're an elephant!"


   I finally found my voice.  "Lilah, what happened?  Who did this to you?"

   "I scared you, didn't I?  Yay, I scared you!" She clapped her hands and
bounced up and down in her seat.  hHer hardware jingled.  She leaned
forward, elbows on the table, and looked up at me.  Her pupils were
impossibly wide and black.  "There's more monsters here, and I was scared
of them, but they told me the secret.  The secret is, monsters are scared
of monsters too!  So they made me into a monster and now I'm not scared no
more!  I'm a cunt monster!" Lilah swiveled on the chair to face me and,
with the limberness of childhood, lifted her legs up and over her head
until her calves were behind her shoulders.  She reached up over her head
and grabbed her feet, pushing them together until her ankles crossed.  Her
filthy black toes wiggled.

   It was coming back to me now.  I thought back to Karen and Moira's
wedding.  I remembered Moira prying Lilah's mouth open and dumping
literally hundreds of doses of LSD into her mouth.  I remembered that the
child had violently lost touch with reality once the drug kicked in -
though her grasp had already become pretty tenuous from the various drugs
Moira had already been feeding her daily, not to mention being regularly
raped by her father, her nanny, her babysitter, her babysitter's little
sister, her babysitter's little sister's lover yours truly, and anyone else
any of them had handed her over to.  I hadn't seen her after that, except
for that terrible day when her father died.  But it was clear now that the
megadosage of hallucinogens had permanently damaged her mind.  She was not
completely out of touch, but everything she perceived was filtered through
her childish narrative of "monsters" - a literalization of what her life
had become, of all the people who had hurt her and were hurting her.  And I
couldn't say it was wrong.

   Here the little girl sat, proudly displaying to me something else that
must have represented terrible pain and trauma.  The bootlace that had been
threaded through her tiny bald vulva the last time I had seen it was gone.
But the six holes that Renee had originally made with a sail needle weren't
gone.  Where each hole had been on the outside of her labia majora, another
length of curved chrome silver sprouted.  Just like her mouth, Lilah's cunt
had tusks.  They were apparently screwed into her flesh because at the
place where each piercing had emerged from the inside of her lips was a
large brass flat screwhead, flush with the inner curve of smooth skin. 
They curved inward, forming a loose cage barring easy entry to her vagina.

   And that wasn't all.  Before she had left us, the brutal punishment that
Lilah absorbed daily on her immature cunny had left it bruised and swollen.
The skin was no longer bruised, but it wasn't uncolored.  It was tattooed.
A monstrous, spiny snake coiled down her lower abdomen, ending in a gaping
scarlet maw.  The tusks were its fangs.  Mad red eyes with caprine pupils
stared out from her mound.  "See?" Lilah crowed.  "I'm a cunt monster and
this is my monster cunt!" She dissolved into giddy laughter.  Her
mouth-tusks bobbed up and down as her jaw moved.

   I realized my mouth was still hanging open.  And since no words seemed
likely to come out, I settled for pouring more beer in.  I downed the whole
mug in nearly a single gulp.  When I put it down, Lilah had stopped
laughing.  She unhooked her ankles from over her head and swung them down
to slap her bare feet on the floor.  "I'm thirsty too," she declared as she
pushed herself to her feet.  She took the empty mug off the table and held
it two-handed between her thighs as she bent her knees outward.  Her
cunt-tusks clinked against the heavy glass.  And then with zero
self-consciousness or modesty, she began urinating into the glass.  She
moved it with the ease of long practice so that barely a drop was lost to
the filthy floor.  When she straightened the glass was about a third full
of dark yellow urine, steaming gently.  An acrid stench reached me and I
gaped as Lilah raised the glass to her lips.  Her eyes squinted shut and
her nose wrinkled as if she didn't care for the bitter taste, but she
downed her own urine with the same gusto that I had just finished my beer.
I felt that beer turn over in my stomach as twin trails of stinking yellow
ran from the corner of Lilah's mouth - her tusks prevented her lips from
making a good seal against the rim of the mug.  Lilah's throat worked as
she swallowed again and again until finally the mug was empty.  She put it
down on the table and sat down again, swinging her bare legs back and
forth. Her cunt-tusks rattled against the seat.

   As I watched the child horror welled up within me, but not only horror.
Lilah was terribly mutilated, but she was still the little girl who had
given me the most spectacular deep throat blowjobs I'd ever had.  She was
still the child that Renee and I had spitroasted in what was still one of
the peak sexual experiences of my entire life.  So rising beneath the
horror was a sick arousal as I imagined her life as a child whore in this
disgusting bar with her mind broken by drugs.  "So," I said, shifting in my
seat to unbind my growing penis, "You always have cum and piss for
breakfast?"

   "Yeth," Lilah nodded vigorously.  She leaned forward, pressing her flat
chest against my arm and cupped one hand to her mouth as if she was
imparting a great secret.  "The monsters think they're poisoning me, but
I'm taking their monster juice.  Once I swallow it they don't want to chase
me any more.  Most monsters are pretty dumb." She burped.  "No offense."

   "None taken.  And the pee?"

   Lilah rolled her eyes, which was scary all in itself, those huge black
pupils revolving in the solid blue orbs.  "If I left my pee, the monsters
would smell it and they'd catch me.  Anyways, I get thirsty but I'm not
allowed to touch the dragon."

   "Dragon?"

   "You know, the dragon!" That scary eye-roll again.  "You're not a very
smart monster." She pointed at the barkeep who happened to be using the
soda gun.  "He can choke water out of it.  But he said it would burn me up
if I tried.  I don't want to be on fire.  It hurts." She pouted.

   Curiosity was overcoming my horror at what had been done to Lilah, and
was even challenging my arousal.  "Lilah, where are we?  What is this
place?"

   "It's a castle, dummy!" She considered, flicking the upward-pointing
tusks with two fingers, letting them poke her cheeks in what looked like a
nervous habit.  "Except...sometimes it's a cave, and sometimes it's the
moon, and sometimes it's on fire, and sometimes there's giant kitties..."
She trailed off, her gaze moving upwards towards the cheap drop ceiling and
her eyes darted back and forth, tracking something invisible to me.  "And
all the monsters live here and it used to be scary and I used to cry a lot
but now that I'm a monster too it's not scary but sometimes it hurts
expecially when they use my monster cunt but it can bite them but if it
bites them and they were friends of some of the other monsters then I get
in trouble and they hurt me a lot."

   As I was trying to take this all in, the lights on the rickety stage at
one end of the room came on.  A greasy looking guy with a mullet was
leaning over the sound board and was flicking them red, blue, red, blue. 
It was apparently some kind of signal.  Lilah broke off in midstream,
suddenly leapt out of the chair to a crouch and spun around, her head
swiveling back and forth.  "...but now I have to tame the monsters, we can
fuck later!" And with that the naked child scampered away, her hardware
jingling, leaving me gaping after her.  She ran down the back hall towards
where I remembered the dressing rooms were.

   I got another beer and then took a different seat, one closer to the
stage.  The bar was starting to fill up.  I saw only three guys from the
MC, the bartender and two guys who were obviously coolers - one older
fellow with a beer belly and a long bifurcated beard, more salt than
pepper, and a young guy, short and squat with biceps so large his tshirt
must have been custom-tailored.  Beard stood between the stage and the
sound board while Fireplug leaned against the wall next to the front door,
crossed his arms, and appeared to go to sleep.

   The patrons were almost all men, split about half and half between
citizens trying to look inconspicuous and desperately avoiding eye contact,
and grubby-looking folks in ragged clothes who were obviously from the sex
offenders' camp I'd visited with Moira and the girls.  I felt a pang as I
remembered how both Moira's and Lilah's lives had changed during that week.
Drugs had set them both on the trajectory that led back here for the little
girl, and for Moira - to the grave.

   Mullet brought up the stage lights full and put on some of the cheesiest
music I'd ever heard.  Seriously, it sounded like he'd downloaded "70s porn
greatest hits soundtrack" or something.  Bow-chicka-bow-bow.  But all
thoughts of musical criticism vanished as Lilah capered onto the stage. 
She was still completely naked.  I hadn't seen her wear a scrap of clothing
since I'd arrived.  I wondered if she was allowed to have any.  She had
added one decoration, though: a tail.  It was puffy, made of green shimmery
fabric and I guessed it was supposed to be a dinosaur or lizard tail or
something like that.  From the way it moved it was clear it didn't weigh
much so I guessed it was stuffed like a plushie.  Lilah turned and shook
her behind at the audience, causing the tail to whip back and forth and
showing where the nine-year-old's asshole was stretched by the large plug
to which the tail was attached.

   Lilah hadn't gotten much better at dancing than the first time she'd
been here but it hardly mattered.  Her facial tattoo glowed in the stage
lighting and made it much easier to see the mask than the unformed features
of the little girl beneath it.  Her tusks glinted, flaring and leaving
afterimages as she capered and hopped around the stage.  Her vagina dentata
bounced and quivered wildly.  She seemed to have some control over their
movement as several times she dropped into a wide-legged squat and made
them clash together, closing like a claw over her bald cunny.

   Lilah's act seemed to consist mostly of pretending to be a monster.  She
jumped around the stage, curving her hands into talons and making animal
sounds.  She dropped to hands and feet, shaking her skinny ass in the air
and making the tail lash up and down, side to side.  Her caged slit pulled
open, revealing her scarlet opening and her clitoris just peeking out from
under a long hood.  She made two fingers into a vee and slid them between
the six chrome tusks and peeled herself open wide, drawing a few cheers and
applause from the audience.

   Sweat began to sheen the little girl's pale body as she jumped and ran
around the rickety stage.  Long flyaway strands from her mohawk stuck to
the sides of her scalp, her face, her back, darkening from moisture. 
"Rawr!" She jumped forward into the face of one of the nearest spectators,
raising her clawed hands and twisting her face into a scowl, making the
tattooed animal mask distort into an even more fearsome mien.  Then she
jumped back quickly, spinning so that her tail flew out behind her.

   "Rawr!" she did it again to another spectator.  And "Rawr!" a third
time, and I saw a familiar form, the black man with the terrible burn
scarring from the camp.  I remembered he was quick.  His good hand flashed
out and seized the metal teepee over one of Lilah's nipples.  Her growl
became a squeal as he pulled, stretching her undeveloped breast further
away from her bony chest.  The piercing in the nipple pulled, the hole
distorting into a teardrop.  Lilah's face got red beneath her fearsome mask
and tears sprung to her eyes.  "Nooooo!" she cried as the man twisted her
titty one way then the other, pulling hard until it looked like the ring
would certainly tear free.  At the last second he let go.  Lilah tumbled
backwards, yelping as she landed and drove the buttplug further into her
rectum.  Painfully she slowly rolled over onto elbows and knees, her head
drooping as tears dripped onto the scarred plywood of the stage.  She
stayed like that sniveling and crying until Mullet stepped out from behind
the sound board.  He was carrying a long switch.

   It whistled through the air and Lilah screamed as it lashed across her
bare buttocks.  She tried to scrabble away but Mullet stepped up on the
stage and caught her again.  Five times the switch cracked across her ass,
leaving a criss-cross of red welts.  Lilah was bawling full-out as the man
used his shoe in her stomach to push her over on her back.  "Dance!" was
all he said.  He raised the switch threateningly.

   "Nooooo!" Lilah cried and pushed herself to her feet.  Tears streaming
down her face, her hands pressed against her burning asscheeks, she
stumbled through the remaining seconds of the song.  As soon as it ended
she ran off the stage to the sound of cruel laughter from her audience.

   There was a pause, relative silence after the music ended, and then a
caw of laughter from somewhere behind me, followed by the clack of
billiards from the other room, and a rising hum of normal conversation.  I
got up to get another beer, pausing to adjust myself.  Glancing around I
saw I wasn't the only one that little Lilah had made an upstanding citizen
of.  Standing at the end of the bar I heard voices coming from the short
hallway that led to the toilets and the roach-infested closet they called
the dressing rooms.  First was the rumble of a man's voice.  I couldn't
make out the words.  But cutting through that was a child's high-pitched
whine.  "Dad-dy!  I don't want to!  Why do I have to?"

   The man spoke again, this time louder and with a note of whining
himself. "Honey, I told you.  Daddy's in trouble, and this is the only way
to get out of it.  It won't be bad.  I'll be right there."

   "But why do I have to show my...you know?"

   "I promise, just do this and I'll buy you a new bicycle."

   "But why..." the voice was cut off with a loud SLAP!  and then there was
quiet sobbing.

   "Do what you're told!" the man's voice said.  "Do what you're told and
it'll be over soon."

   I turned and leaned back with my elbows resting on the bar.  Which was a
mistake because my left arm landed in something sticky.  But I was
distracted as a man emerged from the stageside hall.  He was guiding a
little girl in front of him with a firm grip on her upper arms.  She was
neither plump nor slender and looked to be 9 or 10 years old.  Old enough,
anyway, to have all her permanent teeth since there was a glint of braces.
Her wide mouth was pulled down into a frown.  She had long, straight light
brown hair in a center part and a slender, high-bridged nose.  She was
wearing a sleeveless dress, white with a pattern of large pink flowers and
green leaves.  There was a row of tiny pompons sewn at the knee-length hem.
I couldn't see the child's eyes because she was wearing swim goggles that
had been blacked out, rendering her blind.  But there were tears on her
cheeks and more leaking from behind the goggles.  She sniveled as the man
guided her to step up on the stage and led her to a straight-backed chair
that had been brought up.  She was barefoot.  The man pushed on her
shoulders until she sat.  She held her knees tightly clamped together and
her arms hugging herself as she continued to cry quietly.

   The stage lights came up, so bright there was a nimbus of red and blue
around the girl.  The man bent and whispered in her ear.  She shook her
head.  He squeezed her shoulder, hard enough that she winced, and spoke
more emphatically.  Her face distorted as she cried harder.  She bent her
head and, blushing furiously, slowly opened her arms and reached down to
pull up her dress.  It rose tantalizingly past her knees until she had the
hem between her fingers.  Then, shoulders heaving, she lifted the hem up
until her face was no longer visible, exposing long, thin legs and creamy
thighs that glowed under the hot lights.  She was pantyless.

   Cheers and whistles erupted from the crowd at the sight of the girl's
private area.  She hunched her shoulders, trying to disappear behind her
dress.  The man whispered something else and slowly, her knees trembling,
the girl spread her legs until she could hook her bare feet around the
chair legs.  Her slumped posture pushed her pubic mound forward.  She had
the finest dusting of blond fuzz that glinted in the stage lighting.  Her
vulva was full and pouting, but her clitoris was invisible and only the
narrowest lines of pink showed her inner labia.

   They staye like that in tableau for what, to the little girl, must have
seemed like hours.  She held her dress up higher, exposing herself almost
to her nipples, and hid behind it.  Her hands trembled as she cried while
cheers and derision was showered on her by the men sitting near around the
stage.  Her father stood at her side, bent with one hand on her bare
shoulder, but not comforting.  Frozen, in tableau, with his head turned
away from his daughter and eyes downcast.

   Then Mullet stepped stepped up onto the stage.  It shook under his heavy
workboots, and under the bright lights little puffs of dirt and sawdust
jumped.  He said something in the man's ear.  The man jerked back as if
revolted, shaking his head violently.  Mullet grabbed his arm and spoke
urgently to him.  The man kept shaking his head but his shoulders slumped,
defeated.  Mullet left the stage and the man, keeping his face down and
turned away from the audience, began with trembling hands to unbuckle his
belt.  As he fumbled with his zipper his little girl asked plaintively "Can
I put my dress down, please Daddy?"

   Her father gave permission but no sooner did she cover herself than she
flinched at the unexpected touch to her face.  Her father held out a
completely limp penis, trying to guide it to her lips.  She leaned away. 
He cupped her head and pulled it back towards him.  He managed to swipe his
cockhead across her lips, just barely, but soft as he was didn't have the
reach.  The little girl kept moving away, confused.  With her eyes covered
she clearly didn't understand what was touching her or why.

   As if on cue, Lilah burst from the shadows of the hallway.  She was
still naked, though her tail was gone.  She hopped her way into the room,
jumping up in the air and grabbing for something only she could see.  Her
stripe of long, fine hair bounced like a horse's tail.  She leapt up on to
the stage and jumped her way across.  It was so rickety it shuddered under
each thump as her bare feet landed, even though she couldn't have weighed
more than 50 pounds, and that was including all her hardware.  Some of the
men sitting near the stage grabbed for her, trying to pull a titty or pinch
an asscheek but somehow Lilah managed to always dance back just out of
reach.  As she reached the far corner of the little stage she spun on the
toes of one foot and finally noticed the others.  "Oh, look, a penis!" she
cried with evident delight.  She hopscotched over and pushed herself
between the man and his daughter so that the tip of his still-deflated
wiener brushed the bottom of her chin.  The man gaped down at the innocent
blue eyes set in that horrifying, multiply-pierced visage, and he gasped
audibly as Lilah wrapped her hand around his dick and slurped it into her
mouth.  His gasp became a soft moan as the naked child's cheeks hollowed
and he felt the warmth and expert suction of her mouth.  Lilah's cheeks
bulged back out as the organ expanded and forced her jaw to drop.  Her
tusks clashed almost musically as they slid against one another.  "Mmm,
mmm," she cooed with evident delight.  Drool leaked out and spilled over
her lower lip, dripping onto the stage and her bare toes.

   Lilah's lips rose and fell several around the man's flesh pole.  He put
a hand against the back wall to steady himself as Lilah's expert fellatio
had the desired effect.  She pulled off and straightened up, holding his
now-erect penis one hand and holding the other arm out and up like,
"ta-dah!" A long string of drool dripped onto her bare belly.  Then she
bent the man's cock down until it was past horizontal, and aimed it at his
daughter's lips.  She couldn't see what was nudging at her mouth.  If her
eyes had been visible I'm sure they would have showed confusion as she
tried to figure out what was warm and spongy and wet like that.  She opened
her mouth as if to speak but whatever she intended to say was muffled as
her daddy's penis slid into her mouth.

   The man almost toppled over, bent his knees and adjusted his stance to
ease the angle.  The little girl's cheek bulged.  She gagged as the cock
stirred around in her mouth, but recovered.  Lilah moved around to the
other side of the chair and knelt on the stage.  There was an electric
click and then a low hum as Mullet flipped a switch on the sound board, and
then Lilah's amplified voice came out of a speaker behind me.  "It'th
okay," she was saying.  "I know it's scary but you're doing good and the
monsters won't get you.  Your daddy won't let them."

   The man started actively humping himself into his daughter's face.  She
tried to back away from the smell and the taste and the feel of manflesh
invading her, but Lilah put a hand on the back of her head and prevented
it. Then his face twisted into a terrible mix of pleasure and guilt and he
froze.  The little girl choked, gagged, coughed as jizz flew out of her
mouth, spilling onto her chin and splattering onto her father's pubic hair
and the fabric of his trousers.  A flash went off from somewhere.

   The man looked down on his daughter's face spattered with his own
ejaculate.  He buried his face in his hands, and fled back down the
hallway, abandoning his little girl to her trauma, blind and gagging on the
heavy taste of semen in front of a laughing crowd.  "Daddy?" she called
plaintively and then choked again on the rich, gooey protein filling her
throat.

   But Lilah was there.  She lifted the girl's dress again to expose her
and the girl, overwhelmed, let her.  But the child jerked when she felt
Lilah's fingers trail across her innocent sex.  "Shh," Lilah soothed her,
though it came out of her mutilated mouth as a wet, sloppy hiss.  "Don't
you ever touch yourself?" Guiltily the girl nodded.  Color touched her
cheeks under the hot stage lights.  Lilah began to stroke the girl's cunny,
side to side then up and down, gently at first.  The girl's legs twitched
and her face twisted with anxiety, but gradually she relaxed.  With gentle
pressure Lilah eased her thighs apart.  She wet her fingers in her mouth
and resumed masturbating the little girl.  The girl was taller and older
than Lilah but there was no question who was in charge.  Her hairless slit
opened slightly, revealing a moist pink line.  Lilah began to twirl her
ring finger gently around the girl's clitoris, making slow circles and then
stroking up the underside, coaxing it out of its hood.  The girl's
breathing became irregular, broken by little gasps and moans as she became
aroused despite herself.  "Oh...ohhh...ohhh...ohhh."

   Lilah dipped into the girl's slit, gathering her juices and spreading
them around until her vulva glistened.  Her moaning became steadier and
louder.  Then, just as it seemed she was building to her immature peak
Lilah ripped off the girl's goggles and shoved her terrifying face nose to
nose.  "RAWWWWR!" she growled, clashing her tusks together.  The little
girl shrieked in sudden terror.  Her limbs spasmed, the chair tipped over
and the girl landed hard on her back.  Urine arced upwards as she lost
control of her bladder.  The folds of her dress darkened as they absorbed
the liquid.  Sobbing hysterically, the girl fought her way to hands and
knees and scuttled off the stage, leaving puddles of pee behind her.  The
crowd burst into applause.  Lilah strutted from side to side, arms raised
over her head like a victorious fighter.  Her posture emphasized her
extreme thinness, the way her sweat-slicked skin was stretched taut over
her ribcage.

   The stage lights flicked off.  Lilah dropped her arms and strode over
towards me, the slap-thwwp, slap-thwwp of her bare feet planting and
peeling off the disgusting floor becoming a familiar song.  As she walked
she bent her arms and swung them as if she were the Hulk and not a tiny,
emaciated, naked, mutilated little girl.  She came to the bar next to me
and looked up at Kilimanjaro.  "Rrrrawr.  Want dinner!" she said in a
growly caveman voice.  The bartender just nodded.  Lilah darted around the
bar and came back out.  Now she was walking clumsily with her hands
gripping a bus-tub full of dirty dishes.  "C'mon," she said over her
shoulder at me.  "I'll show you my monster cave." Intrigued, I followed. 
Lilah stumped down the back hallway.  At the very end of the hall she
elbowed open a door onto a staircase.  The smells of damp earth and spilled
beer rose as I followed her down the rickety wooden stairs.

   The basement was illuminated by a single 40-watt bulb.  The floor was
dirt except for a concrete pad in one corner holding kegs of beer and soda
syrup.  A tangle of hoses led up to the bar through a hole in the ceiling.
In the other far corner was a small door, only about four and a half or
five feet tall.  Lilah elbowed it open and stepped through and I ducked
after her.

   I straightened.  I was in a windowless cell maybe ten or twelve feet
square.  The floor was packed earth, the walls cinderblock, the ceiling low
with a single bare, low wattage bulb hanging in the center of the room.  It
was chilly and smelled of mildew and urine.  The walls were damp with
condensation.  There was a cot against the wall in one corner with no
mattress, no blanket or sheets, no pillow - just a canvas sling.  There was
a rusty bucket in the opposite corner.

   Lilah set down her burden with a clatter in the center of the room.  She
dropped into a deep squat with her knees spread and her feet flat on the
damp floor.  The tub was indeed full of dirty dishes, the remains of
several people's meals.  Scraps of food floated in greasy water.  Lilah
plunged both hands into the mess, came up with half a soggy bun in one hand
and some limp french fries in the other.  She crammed the food into her
mouth without ceremony.  She ate ravenously and without discrimination,
grabbing whatever she could out of the mess and cramming it into her mouth,
chewing and then stuffing in another handful of half-eaten discards as soon
as the first was swallowed.  She chewed noisily with her mouth open,
dribbling grease, ketchup, pancake syrup and more down her chin.  I saw her
eat at least one cigarette butt as well.

   Soon enough all the big pieces were gone.  Lilah lifted the plates out
one by one, holding them up to her face and licking them clean.  The cheap
diner-ware clanked against her piercings.  When all the plates were
spit-shiny on the dirt floor next to her, she picked up the tub again.  She
swirled the inch or so of dirty liquid to pick up any overlooked morsels,
then she raised one corner to her mouth, tilted it and began to drink.  She
gulped noisily.  Again her tusks interfered so that as much of the reeking
mess escaped at the corners of her mouth and ran down her naked body, as
she managed to swallow.  She raised the tub higher and higher, drinking
nearly all of the disgusting liquid.  Then she dropped the tub.  It thumped
onto the dirt and the little that was left in it sloshed.  Lilah stood. 
Her tusks, both on her face and the six screwed into her vulva, glittered
in the dim light.  She stepped over to the bucket in the corner, turned to
face me, squatted, and began to urinate.  Her urine hissed against the
rusty metal.  It took what seemed a long time for the little girl to empty
her bladder.  She looked at me, unconcerned, the whole time.  Her mouth
opened and closed slightly causing her chrome tusks to slide back and forth
over each other.  When her stream dribbled to a stop, Lilah looked down at
herself, at the spiny dragon-snake tattooed onto her private area.  She
reached down, sliding her hand inside the loose cage of the dragon's six
chromed teeth, and wiped herself, then rubbed her wet palm on her chest. 
The little girl's mutilated face and body seemed to glow in the dim light
and horror, disgust, and arousal continued warring within me.

   Arousal won.  Lilah must have seen something change in my face, despite
the low light.  However tenuous her grip on reality, she couldn't have
survived without becoming hyperattuned to all the "monsters" she lived
around.  She made a break for the door, but I cut her off with one long
step.  She ducked away and made for the center of the room, her bare feet
dancing over the cool earth.

   Lilah was agile as a snake, but the room was just too small.  I snagged
her shoulder as she tried to dodge and pulled her off-balance.  That
fraction of a second was all I needed.  I snatched her off the ground with
one arm around her waist.  My other hand clamped over her mouth.  She
kicked and writhed but all she managed to do was make my cock even harder
as her bare skin rubbed against the bulge in my jeans.  I dropped her onto
the cot as I sat heavily next to it.  I shifted one hand to encircle her
skinny neck, ready to choke her if she fought too hard as I opened my
pants. I felt the vibration in her neck and stopped fumbling at my briefs
to look at her.  She was laughing.  "Monthter gameth!" she lisped out,
clashing her tusks together.  She bent her knees and lifted her legs,
spreading herself wide.  She slid her hands inside the loose cage extruding
from her vulva with palms out so she could press the metal apart and down,
peeling her slit open and exposing her moist pink interior and the dark
hole leading up to her immature womb.  "Tathte me, monthter!" she demanded.

   Who was I to disappoint the little girl?  I pressed my face into her
crotch.  She was fire-hot, and smelled unwashed and sweaty.  I pushed my
tongue into her slit and swiped up and down, pausing to quickly nip at her
hooded bud.  She tasted of pee, and the coppery taste of blood, and of pure
little girl, sweet and just a little tangy.  She giggled madly as I pursed
my lips to suck at the insides of her labia.  Her hands pressed against my
cheeks and I felt six light pricks against my skin - her vulval hardware. I
dragged my tongue upwards and captured her little clitoris as it emerged
from its hood.  I pressed it against my upper teeth and trilled my tongue
at the same time.  Lilah's giggles turned to shrieks and I felt a hot
trickle against my lower lip and chin.  I looked up over her heaving belly,
her pierced and pinioned titties.  Her head was thrown back and I could see
her tongue protruding between her tusks.  Her chin and the underside of her
neck were distorted by the multicolored whorls of the lion-dog's mane
tattooed there.

   As I continued eating out the child's bald cunt, Lilah started making
little grunts, "Eh...eh...eh," in ascending pitch and volume.  Her feet
kicked up in the air as I repeatedly captured her clit between teeth and
tongue, then stretched it up and out, letting it snap back.  I turned me
head as far as I could without getting a tusk in the eye and drove my
tongue into her hole.  She was still small but elastic.  I could feel her
muscles grip me, squeezing my tongue as I pressed my face forwards hard to
penetrate further.

   And then Lilah came.  She had not yet been orgasmic when she was seven,
the last time that Renee and I had double-fucked her.  If you worked on her
long enough back then she'd just get overstimulated, pleasure would become
irritation and then discomfort, and she'd stop.  Or at least she did before
all the street drugs we fed her broke the connection between pain and
aversion.  By the time we were done with her, hurt was just another intense
sensation and she neither sought it out nor avoided it, just let it rage
through her body as it would.

   Times had changed, though.  Her cunt clamped down on my tongue and
forced it out of her channel.  I could feel the spasming of her muscles
transmitted to her labia.  Precious drops of her nectar were hot against my
lips.  Her legs went rigid then dropped, quivering, against my back.  She
keened, a long, high-pitched "EEEEEEEEEEEE!" as her back arched, that cut
off as she went limp all at once.  I ran my hands up her sides, over her
skinny bare body.  Her skin was hot and slick with sweat.  I captured her
stretched nipples between thumb and forefinger, twisting and pulling them
down until she whined softly and some tension came back into her body.

   Lilah struggled up on her elbows and looked down at me with those spooky
solid-blue eyes.  There was drool on her chin.  "Nithe job, cunt monthter!"
she declared.

   Wherever I had ever thought my life would take me, this dank, smelly
hole underneath an unlicensed bar with a tattooed, pierced, mutilated
elementary school child on a permanent acid trip hadn't been on the list.
But now I was here, I decided to make the best of it.  I reached up and
grabbed a handful of Lilah's hair and pulled, dragging her over on to her
stomach as I sat up and popped the straining snap on my jeans.  Lilah
didn't struggle; to the contrary she quickly wriggled herself into a
comfortable position on the cot, with one arm supporting her upper body to
keep the nipple-stretching tripods from digging into her chest.  With her
other hand she deftly lowered my zipper.  She looked up at me as she
stroked her palm the length of the bulge in my briefs.  In the dim light
her weirdly distorted nose and her tusks made her look truly like some
creature out of myth.  I sighed and smoothed her long tail of hair down her
slender back.  Then she tugged down my briefs and sucked my cockhead into
her mouth.  It fit perfectly between the pairs of chrome tusks.  And
whoever had pulled all her front teeth had had the right idea.  I slid in
smoothly and the ridge of her gumline felt delicious as it fitted itself to
my girth.

   Slurping and slobbering, Lilah proceeded to give me one of the best
blowjobs of my life.  Her tongue was magic, twirling around and around as
my pole filled her mouth.  The soft gum where her teeth had been pulled
really added something special.  Her jaw worked.  She was chewing lightly
at my cock.  If she had had those teeth it would have hurt, a lot.  As it
was, watching her tusks move against each other with my shaft between them
was pretty scary.  But the feeling of that gum ridge pressing into me as
her tongue whipped back and forth was amazing.  "Yeeeah, you little whore,"
I breathed out.  I slid my hand down the smooth skin of her back.  Her butt
was up in the air a little, I guess to keep her cunt from getting sextuply
speared, but it put her in the perfect position.  I pressed my finger
against her asshole.  Lilah grunted and flexed and the muscle ring relaxed.
My finger slid into her hot, greasy depth easily.  She moaned around her
mouthful of cock, and began lipping it further and further into her mouth.
I felt my cockhead bump against something and she went "guk!" and then her
head bobbed, the pressure increased until her throat opened.  Her lips slid
all the way down until I felt her tusks pressing into my bush.  Then she
started swallowing.  Lilah had developed awesome muscle control.  I was
balls-deep with half my cock in her esophagus.  The muscles rippled along
it forwards, then back, and all the while her tongue was lashing all around
my shaft.

   I was starting to get close and she sensed it, or just ran out of air.
She put her hands on my thigh and pushed herself up, coughing and
spluttering as my erection popped out of her throat and my finger out of
her asshole.  "My monster cunt," she choked out, her voice ragged.  "You
gotta squirt in my monster cunt." I started to protest that, no thanks, I
didn't feel like getting my dick speared (literally) six ways from Sunday,
when Lilah rolled onto her back and reached down.  Gripping one of the
chrome spears on her vulva she gave it a twist.  To my surprise it rotated
180 degrees and clicked into place, so that now it was curved outward
rather than in.  She quickly did the same with the other five.  "Now,"
Lilah insisted.  "The other monsters are nicer when I've got monster juice
in me." I hesitated, still eyeing the very sharp points of those six curved
spikes.  "Do it now, or I'm not going to..."

   What Lilah was not going to do I'd never know, because the next noise
she made was a "whuff!" as I came down on her abdomen with the flat of my
palm to hold her in place and brutally pushed my cock into the child.  Her
cunny was moist, more sticky than wet, but her labia parted easily enough
and the head of my cock forced its way through her opening.  I felt the
elastic tissues snap tight around the crown.  I hunched against her but
made no further progress until I let my weight off her diaphragm and
wrapped both hands around her spread thighs.  "Uhhhh!" she cried, twisting
her head from side to side as I pushed hard and felt her inner passage
yield.  Slowly, slowly I was engulfed by her heat and vise-like grip.  Her
labia bulged with the pressure from behind, bending her cunt-tusks out and
down until six razor-sharp points were pricking her up and down her thighs.
For the first time I noticed six irregular scabbed circles right where the
points made contact.  I grabbed her calves and locked her legs around my
waist, then I dropped down, putting us nose-to-nose (well, really,
nose-to-forehead-to-nose-to-chin) and pressing full weight on where we were
joined.

   "Owooooo!" Lilah howled like a wolf.  I was little more than halfway
inside her preteen cunt when my glans butted against something soft but
unyielding.  "Owoooooo OW!" she cried as I pushed against her immature
cervix.  "Ow!  Ow!  Ow!" she yelped as I battered against the entrance to
her womb, feeling her vaginal muscles twist and squeeze in a futile effort
to expel this latest invasion of her long-gone childhood.  I thrusted
harder, each push audibly knocking the breath out of her.  She was tiny
beneath me, pushed into the sagging cot.  Her legs fell open to either side
and her arms bounced limply akimbo.  The muscles in her neck were corded,
her face twisted into a gritted-teeth grimace.  Her eyes were wide, showing
solid blue but her dilated black pupils were fixed on my face.  "Ow!  Ow!
Ow!  Owooooohahahahaha!" She broke into wild laughter as I rutted into her
prepubescent form.  She slurred words intermingled with barks and yelps of
laughter.  Her tusks flashed in the dim light.  "Hurts!  Hahaha!  Hurts! 
Hahaha!  Fuck my monster cunt!  Fuck me!  Hahaha!  Monster!  Hahaha!"

   I think Lilah had another climax.  I couldn't really tell, but the grip
on my enveloped organ suddenly increased and that was enough to drive me
over the top.  My favorite thing about cumming into a child is how tight
she is.  Those little vaginas aren't intended to take a cock for years yet,
and they squeeze so hard.  I love the way it almost hurts the way semen
under pressure has to force its way against that constriction.  I love the
way my cock stuffs them absolutely full and how their labia are stretched
so severely they become like an O-ring gasket, and I can feel my cum
squirting back out around that seal.

   And I love how that gasket can act like a human cock ring so even after
ejaculating I stay hard.  Like I did this time.  I lay atop Lilah for a few
moments, long enough to catch my breath and for her to start to panic that
she couldn't get hers beneath my weight.  Then I raised up on my elbows and
started fucking her again.  She wasn't laughing now.  She wasn't making any
intentional noise, just a series of gargling gasps as the action compressed
her diaphragm over and over.  Her mouth fell open, the upper and lower
tusks digging into the opposing lip.  Her eyes rolled back in her head so
all that showed was solid blue from the scleral tattooing, with - now that
I looked closely - a fine red tracery of bloodshot capillaries.

   This time there was no question when Lilah came.  Her jaw clamped shut,
tusks clashing.  Her legs shot out straight.  Her little hands grabbed two
handfuls of my chest hair and pulled, hard.  Her back arched, the nipple
stretchers prodding me at the bottom of my ribcage.  She screamed through
gritted teeth.  It was really loud in that space with the sound bouncing
off the sweating stone walls.  And her cunny clamped down so hard that I
worried she was actually going in injure me.  But I just rode it out with
her.  It ended as quickly as if she were a marionette whose strings were
cut.  She fell back, her body relaxing completely for a few seconds, and
then she was shoving at me to get off her.

   Lilah was still so tight that I had to actually hold her thighs and push
to disengage us.  Her slit closed up but not before a flood of pink-tinged
goo made a puddle in the sagging cot.  As Lilah sat up and started rotating
her cunt-tusks back into place I saw she had six fresh wounds on her
thighs, each adding a narrow runnel of blood to the mess collecting under
her ass.  She got to her feet slowly, grunting in pain as she straightened.
"That wath good," she slurred.  "I heard the hurt, and I saw the hurt, and
now the demons are gone, they always go away for awhile, but they'll be
back, but fucking scares them off..." She wasn't even really talking to me.
Still babbling she hobbled to the door and out into the main part of the
basement.  I got my clothes back on and followed.

   Lilah was standing naked in the center of the room looking back and
forth as if she were lost.  I put a hand on her shoulder.  Her skin was
febrile and her body slicked with sweat, spit, cum and blood.  She was
starting to shiver in the damp, cold air.  She looked up at me, her pupils
enormous and black.  "Did we fuck already?" She asked.  I nodded.  "Are you
sure?  Sometimes the monsters make me think I fucked but I didn't, or they
fuck me and pretend they're daddy or a kitty or..." she trailed off again,
but then a thought seemed to strike her.  "Oh!" Her face was transformed by
a sunny smile and for a second I could almost see underneath all the
hardware and ink, the innocent second-grader she had been.  "The monsters
said they had a surprise for me!" And she turned and dashed up the stairs,
her bare feet slapping on the splintery wood.  I followed.
   To be concluded...