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From: Rufus Fugit <rufusfugit@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Jenny's Couch, Book II, part 5 (College Visit 5) (Mgg, forced-exhib, humil, ws, cute little she-male) by Rufus Fugit
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Date: Tue, 03 Feb 2009 20:10:03 -0500
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This is an erotic story featuring adults and children.  If you don't want
to read such a thing, don't.  If it's illegal for you to read it whoever
and wherever you are, I don't really care.  Don't read it, or don't get
caught.

   This is my story.  It is made available under a Creative Commons
Attribution - Noncommercial - No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported license. 
You may copy, distribute, or transmit this work so long as authorship is
properly credited and these introductory paragraphs are included, and you
adhere to the terms set forth at
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/.

   This story is F-I-C-T-I-O-N.  No actual children or adults or anything
were involved in its production.  What part of "made up" don't you
understand?  Intelligent feedback gratefully accepted at rufusfugit at
yahoo dot com.  Stupid feedback and flames to /dev/null.

   This and other stories available at
/files/Authors/rufusfugit.

   It's Oscar season!  In the category, "Most Perverted Homage to 'A
Christmas Story'", the award goes to...*

   Jenny's Couch, Book II, part 5 (College Visit 5) (Mgg, forced-exhib,
humil, ws, cute little she-male) by Rufus Fugit

   It took me a long ten minutes to find Karen.  Maybe ten minutes doesn't
sound like a long time but it is when the temperature is dropping close to
zero, when you're a bit tipsy and have to pee like the proverbial
racehorse, when it's a dark night in an unfamilar town, and, oh yes, when
your quarry is a stark-naked twelve-year-old girl who's drunk, high, and in
hysterics and you're afraid she might pass out and freeze to death before
you find her.

   I followed Karen's footprints out of the yard and down the sidewalk. 
The perfect impressions of her delicate toes and thin soles looked pathetic
in the fresh, powdery snow.  I'm not Sherlock Holmes or anything, but from
the spacing of the prints she didn't seem to be running full-out; her
stride looked staggering and uneven.  I came to the corner and lost the
trail in the packed-down ice of the street.  I checked all the corners and
couldn't see her prints resuming.  She must've stayed in the street.  What
to do?

   From the intersection I could see the park we had crossed on our way to
the party, so I headed that way, walking slowly down the middle of the
street and watching all around me for movement.  It was late, after eleven,
and except for the faint music behind me the streets had the special quiet
of a fresh snowfall.  I was worried about Karen but also excited.  My
erection was a tight bar of heat in my midsection as I replayed the
evening. In my mind's eye I saw Karen wantonly sucking cocks on the bed in
the attic, laughing as sperm dripped down her face.  The piquant taste of
her preteen cunt was still on my tongue, the smell of her still in my
mustache.  The memory of her cries of pain as she was penetrated by the dog
evoked sympathy but also lust as I recalled the image of her cunt stuffed
unimaginably full with the dog's knot, the way her thighs spasmed and
strained apart as she desperately tried to accommodate its girth.  I needed
to find her quickly if for no other reason than to get back to the hotel
where my lover, Karen's ten-year-old sister Renee, waited to receive my
lust.

   I reached the edge of the park and cast around anxiously, moving back
and forth in a widening path from the intersection.  I was about to give up
and retrace my steps when I thought I saw a pale flash behind some
shrubbery.  The streetlights were dim and the shadows thick so I couldn't
be sure.  I walked around the other side of the hedge, and there Karen was.
She had pushed herself beneath the thick, prickly leaves of the hedge and
squatted with her back scraped by the rough branches.  Her eyes were
closed, her face twisted in a grimace of pain.  Her breasts were still
pierced by the thin aluminum skewer Stanley had shoved through them; it
deformed her normally perky teacups.  Her nipples were swollen and pale
with the cold but ugly bruises were developing at the points where the
freezing metal pierced the sensitive skin.  The twelve-year-old's
waist-length blond hair fell in tangles all around her face, shoulders, and
upper body, and dragged on the ground.  She was rocking back and forth,
eyes closed, grunting softly.  For a moment I flashed on last Hallowe'en
when I had found her in a similar position, traumatized from her first act
of actual for-money prostitution with a stranger.  But instead of
frantically masturbating, Karen held a double handful of snow pressed
against her crotch.

   I got down on my knees in front of the preteen and called her name
softly.  No response; she just kept rocking and making those soft grunting
sounds.  Close up, I could see the tension in her arms as she pressed the
snow against her privates.  It was dark underneath the shrub but her pale
skin was dappled with the yellow sodium streetlight shining through the
leaves.  I reached out and gently took her upper arm.  Karen jumped and
fell back on her butt.  Snow showered down on her head and shoulders.  I
brushed her hair aside so I could see her face.  Her eyes were wild,
shining in the dimness.  Her lips were blue with the cold but she didn't
seem to feel it.  She raked up a fresh double-handful of snow and shoved it
between her spread thighs.  "My babycunt," she moaned.  "Oh, it hurts, it
hurts so bad, he tore it, oh God it was so big..." she trailed off into
wordless grunts again.

   "Let me see, sweetie." I gently pried her hands away and brushed at the
snow.  Melting flakes and ice crystals clung to her vulva.  The labia
majora were pale and bloodless, though still covered with patches of angry
red rash and worse, raw skin where she had scratched the rash open.  Her
inner labia were stretched and loose and gaping wide around her enlarged
hole.  Her clit was pale lavender and shrunken to a tiny, wrinkled nub.  I
pulled off a glove to stroke one finger over the abraded skin and
discovered that it was still blazing hot.  "Yeah, you got fucked really
good by that animal," and I was referring to Stanley as much as Runcible. I
was going to have words with that boy tomorrow - there was no excuse for
the way he'd treated Karen.  She was doing him a favor, for Chrissake.  A
professional would've cost twice what we'd charged him, and that was just
for the blowjobs.  There probably wasn't a hooker in town that would do a
dog show with an animal she hadn't trained herself.  Never mind the
piercings.

   I gently pulled Karen to her feet, brushing the snow off her hair and
her bare body.  Her teeth were chattering and she was shaking so that the
skewer bobbled and vibrated as her petite breasts jiggled, but I thought it
was as much from all the coke in her system as from being naked in
below-freezing temperatures.  Despite the light breeze that blew tiny
needles of drift against us, Karen stood flat-footed in the ankle-deep
snow, making no attempt to hunch over or cover herself in any way.  Once
out of the shadows I could see long, parallel scratches underneath the mud
and dirt marring the pale skin of her slender torso.  Her head drooped
forward and her hair, matted with frozen spunk, mostly covered her face. 
"Come on, Karen, we're going to go back to Stanley's to get your clothes,
and then we'll head back to the hotel and have a nice warm bath."

   Her head jerked back when I mentioned her foster brother.  Her eyes
peering through her tangled hair went round and wild.  "N...no!" she
exclaimed, her voice shaking.  "No, not there!  Everyone saw...the dog...it
hurt...oh, my babycunt...laughed at me..." It was hard to understand the
mumbled words but the rising note of hysteria was clear as a bell.

   Our breath rose in great clouds around us as I sighed in exasperation. I
was cold, I was getting tired, it was late, and it would take quite a while
to get Karen cleaned up.  "We're only going back for a minute, kiddo.  I'm
just going to run upstairs and get your clothing.  No one will see you. 
You can even wait outside if you want.  You can't walk all the way home
naked like that." I took her hand firmly in mine and turned to go.

   "NO!" Karen shrieked in panic and jerked her hand free so hard she
almost lost her balance on the slick ground.  As she flailed her arms to
keep her balance, an acrid cloud rose around her and a yellow stain melted
into the snow at her feet.  The prospect of returning to Stanley's had so
terrified her she had lost control of her bladder.  Hot urine ran down her
legs.  She stood there dumbly, face blazing while piss splashed on her bare
feet and dappled the snow.  As the last drops dribbled down her thighs she
looked up at me with terror and humiliation warring in her face.  Her wild
eyes were wet with welling tears.  I made a move to take her hand again. 
She jumped back and with a keening, wordless cry, turned and ran across the
park.  Her tangled hair flew behind her as her wet, bare legs flashed in
the dim streetlights.  Her butt cheeks jiggled and clenched alternately as
she ran.  She kept her hands pressed against her titties - they must have
been terribly painful as the skewer jerked and bounced around.  Sighing, I
started walking after her.  At least she was headed towards the hotel; we
could pick up her clothes tomorrow.

   Karen's stride was ragged and halting, nothing like her normal natural
grace.  She made it almost to the lone lightpole and bench where we had
stopped on our way over when she crossed an ice-slick walkway.  Her feet
flew out from under her and she went down face-first, sliding off the
walkway and into the snow.  She lay still for a second.  Alarmed, I sped up
to a careful trot myself.  But thankfully, the naked child pushed herself
up on her hands and knees.  She crawled to the lightpole, leaving a wide
trail in the snow, and pulled herself up to a standing position.  But then
something strange - instead of continuing on her way, she clutched the
pole, pushing her upper body back but keeping her abdomen pressed against
the freezing metal.  A chilling, ululating cry drifted across the park as
her body writhed.  As I approached she turned her head to look at me, but
there was no recognition in her eyes.  There was hardly anything human
there.  White showed all the way around the blue orbs.  Her face, sweaty
despite the aching cold, was twisted in a grimace of pain.  She had cut her
lip when she fell and fresh blood dribbled down her chin.  Her shoulders
were shaking and her arms were fully extended with her hands wrapped around
the pole.  This pressed her body back, arching her spine at a painful
angle. And again, "Aieeeoooeeeoooaiee!" that terrible cry tore from her
throat.

   As I stepped closer, the truth was immediately apparent.  Her inner lips
were mashed apart and spread wide against the pole.  Still wet with urine
and melting snow, when Karen had pressed herself against the metal they had
frozen fast.  Her clit was also stuck.  She tried to move but the oversized
knob stretched out, extending until it was pale with tension while the end
remained glued to the metal.  Her labia pulled taut, stretching out from
her body further than I thought possible.  The sixth-grader's face was
contorted in agony, her voice going raw.  She was crazed with fear and
pain. I had to stop her before she tore herself open.

   I pressed my body against her back and hugged her, hard.  The skewer
between her breasts clinked against the pole.  I forced my thighs against
her butt, pinning her so that she couldn't pull back and rip her sensitive
flesh.  "Shhhh, shhhh, Karen, it's OK," I murmured in her ear.  I brushed
aside the frozen, stinking tangles of her semen-matted hair to nuzzle her
neck, whispering nonsense words of comfort until her cries gradually
diminished to hiccuping sobs.  "My babycunt," she whimpered brokenly.  "Oh,
God, help me, my babycunt is torn, help, I want my babycunt..."

   "It's OK, Karen, I'll help you," I replied, though at the moment I
wasn't sure how.  But as I reached around to fondle the freezing skin of
her bruised titties, I realized that this was probably the best time to
deal with that problem.  Between the cold and all the chemicals in her
system she was as numb as she was going to get.  I gently pried her hands
free of their death grip on the pole.  I pressed them against her breasts,
shaping her freezing fingers so that they were wrapped around the skimpy
teacups with thumb and fingers circling her twisted, swollen nipples
between her bony chest and the steel needle.  She was compliant but
uncomprehending.  I pushed my lower body forward, crushing her privates
hard against the pole where they adhered, clamped my left hand over her
mouth, and in one single motion, pulled the impaling skewer out of her.  At
least I tried to do it in one single motion, but as it slid free of her
left breast she jerked so strongly that my fingers slipped.  The
twelve-year-old screamed into my palm, then louder as she managed to bounce
her butt free of my embrace and her uncontrolled motion stretched her labia
and clitoris to the limit.

   There was no time to be gentle.  I grabbed the skewer and yanked it free
of her body, then dropped it and pressed forward with my full weight,
smashing her naked body against the pole.  She stiffened again, her mouth
gaping in silence, and then she went limp.  Her head lolled back against me
and her body sagged.  I had to grab her hips and press forward to hold her
or she would have collapsed, probably tearing off her cuntlips and her clit
in the process.  It'd be a shame if Karen suffered a career-ending injury
at such a young age, so I held her up until she began to revive.  Her butt
wriggled against my crotch as she struggled to get her feet underneath her,
intensifying my need to pee and giving me the germ of an idea.

   Karen hung her head and sobbed quietly.  She held on to the pole with
both hands.  Her titties were bleeding slightly at the four punctures. 
More blood dripped down between them from her chin, running down to where
her most tender skin adhered to the frozen metal.  Her bare feet had
trampled the snow around the pole's base.  When I was sure she could
support herself, I stepped around to the side.  "Now, this'll feel warm,
Karen.  You'll feel your skin come free from the metal.  As soon as you do,
step back so you don't freeze to it all over again." She was just raising
her head to look at me quizzically when my hot urine splashed off her
belly.

   Wow, it was cold!  The tip of my tallywacker was freezing within 5
seconds.  I had my hand wrapped around the rest of it, guiding the steaming
stream.  It hissed as I aimed it down to strike directly on the
sixth-grader's tender bits, playing it over where the skin was frozen to
the metal.  In just a few seconds her labia pulled loose, leaving only the
tiny stretched tube of her clitty for a moment until it, too, came free and
snapped back against her body.

   Karen staggered backwards and fell full-length in the snow.  Her thin
body was filthy with mud, dirt, and fresh blood.  Since I still had plenty
in my bladder, it seemed a shame to waste it and as I recalled urine was
antiseptic.  So I continued to hose the sixth-grader down from head to toe
with an evening's worth of beer.  The steam rising from her carried the
familiar acidic aroma.  She gaped up at me as I rinsed the filth from her
bare body.  I aimed for her chin but got her square in the mouth.  She
swallowed the hot urine, gagged, then rolled over onto her elbows and
knees, heaving.  As I squirted my last dribbles onto her spine and into her
buttcrack, she began vomiting.  Her long hair made a curtain all around her
head, trailing into the puddle that spread with each convulsion.  It was
thick and sickly white, stinking of stomach acid, liquor and semen.

   I zipped up.  Karen heaved for several minutes, then finally fell
forward onto her belly and lay full-length in the snow, twitching and
gasping for breath.  I reached down and grabbed her as gently as I could
beneath one arm and lifted her to her feet.  Vomit dribbled down her chin,
and it was already freezing into her hair.  Her chest and stomach were
smeared with it and dripping with my urine.  Despite the cold, her stench
was overwhelming.  For the first time, though, the temperature seemed to be
affecting her.  She was soaking wet and had just puked up most of the booze
left in her system.  She began shivering violently, clasping her arms
around herself beneath her trembling titties.  Her nipples were hard little
bullets.  Her teeth were chattering and her lips were blue.  She was such a
disgusting mess I didn't want to touch her, let alone ruin my jacket, so I
just prodded her into motion towards our hotel on the far side of the park.

   Karen tried to run but speed through the freezing air was too painful.
She fell back into an uneven fast walk, whining as each bare sole sank into
the snow.  I admired her taut buttocks and her long, coltish legs as we
walked.  I even started to get hard again thinking about what a lucky
s.o.b. that Runcible was.

   We skirted the brightly-lit parking lot and entered through a side door.
I was momentarily glad that the building was old enough to not have
surveillance cameras.  We met no one in the elevator and made it to the
room without incident.  Karen was completely on automatic pilot.  Despite
stepping into the warmth she kept her arms clamped to her sides.  Her
filthy hair fell forward over her face but I could still hear her teeth
chatter.

   The front room of the suite was dark except for the blue glow of the
television from the bedroom door.  I peered through and, like Stanley
earlier in the evening, was dumbstruck by what I beheld.

   Renee was still wearing her Strawberry Shortcake tshirt, and the stocky
ten-year-old was still pantiless, but she had added one new article:
protruding obscenely from her crotch was the flesh-colored strapon that she
had worn at the beach party last year.  I'd had no idea she had kept it,
but there it was.  My little lover had a great big adult-sized penis.  The
television was tuned to TV Land, and the closing credits from "Bonanza"
were playing.  Renee was jumping on the bed in time with the music and
singing her own new lyrics.  Her braids swung back and forth and her new
boobies bounced underneath her tshirt.  The rubber cock swung wildly and
slapped against her belly at the apex of each jump.  "Who's got a dick, got
a dick, got a dick, got a biiig diiick?" she piped.  "I've got a big dick,
I've got a big dick, I've got a big fat dick!" Her eyes were wide and happy
and her face glowed as she sang.  When the theme ended she kicked her short
legs up and fell on her butt, bouncing spread-eagled onto the bed.  She
wrapped both hands around the rubber penis sprouting from her ten-year-old
crotch and mimed violently jerking off, all the while bouncing her butt and
laughing and moaning exaggeratedly.

   For just a moment the sight of my preteen lover made me forget my
troubles.  As I watched her pretending to masturbate my own cock swelled in
my pants and desire bloomed in my chest.  I rushed forward and jumped on
the bed, surprising Renee.  She shrieked with laughter as I wrapped my own
hands around hers and bent to slobber around her appliance.  I bit and
pulled, stretching it away from her and letting it snap gently back.  But
then the child looked past me and saw her older sister shivering in the
doorway.  Her eyes went wide with horror.  "Karen!" she exclaimed and
clapped her hands over her mouth.  She pushed me away, leaped off the bed
and ran to embrace her older sister.  "Karen!" she repeated.  "What
happened?" She hugged the bigger girl tight but then her nose wrinkled in
disgust as she caught the odor of the filth-smeared sixth-grader.  She
pulled back, looking down in dismay at the urine and vomit now staining her
own shirt.  She turned to me and her eyes were flashing with anger.  "You
were supposed to take care of her!" she said accusingly.

   To be continued...

   *If you have no idea what I'm talking about, see
http://www.imdb.com/media/rm1739622912/tt0085334


   

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