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From: Guy Nickologist <ceres39@gmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Pussy is Pussy, Mg/caution/rape
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Date: Tue, 01 Dec 2009 20:10:01 -0500
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Pussy is Pussy

	Jordan stood outside the hotel.  He watched his best friend's blue
Nissan drive past.  In the front seat was his friend and his prom
date.  In the backseat was Patricia, Jordan's date.  She was crying
and she gave him the finger as they drove past.

	"What a fucking bitch!" he mumbled as the car went by.

	Jordan thought he had his evening planned.  He would turn 18 on
graduation day and had already enlisted in the Army, like his big
brother Chase.  His brother was back from Iraq.  Said the place was a
shit hole.  He also told Jordan to get laid while he could.  It would
be harder than hell to find a girl to nail once he was off to boot
camp and at his specialized training.  Jordan thought soldiers got
laid all the time.  Not so according to Chase.  The skanks who prowl
for soldiers usually ended up with the officers and NCOs.  And
besides, Jordan wouldn't be able to get into a bar for another three
years.

	Chase got Jordan a room in the hotel and stocked it with champagne.
He was determined to get his brother laid.  Didn't want the kid dying
a virgin in some Iraqi sandpit.  The prom was wrapping up and he
mentioned the room to Patricia.  She didn't go for it at all.

	Jordan had to cool down.  He walked around outside.  Sometimes he'd
smoke one of Chase's Marlboros.  He wished he had one right now.
Chase had gotten him a couple of Viagra tablets that he had washed
down before inviting Patricia up to the room.  He wanted to rock all
night long with her.  Now he was hard as a rock and was facing the
prospect of returning home early to rub one out in the shower.  He
found himself around the back of the building by the employee
entrance.  He sat on the curb to decide what to do.  He thought about
calling Chase, but didn't want to sound like a virgin loser.

	Then he heard something.  Crying?  He stood up.  He definitely heard
crying.  It seemed to be coming from the dumpster.  The door on the
side was open.  The crying was coming from inside.  He picked up a
cardboard box and dropped it suddenly when he saw it.  A baby was
lying there crying.  It was wrapped up in toilet paper.  He reached in
and grabbed it.  He brought the baby towards him.  Something fell to
the ground with a wet splat.  Whatever it happened to be, it was
connected to the baby's belly button.  He saw the baby was a girl.

	Jordan's testosterone was already off the charts before he popped the
two blue pills.  He set the baby back inside the dumpster.  He ran out
to the parking lot and to his car.  He emptied the contents of his gym
bag but kept his dirty socks and sweat pants.  He flipped open his
trunk and took the roll of duct tape and also grabbed his hunting
knife.  He looked around and saw no one.  He casually, but hurriedly
went back to the dumpster.  The baby was still there and the placenta
still on the ground tied to the baby.  He cut the umbilical cord.  It
was a lot tougher than he had expected.  He looked around.  No one.
He tried to stuff a sock in the baby's mouth.  It was too big.  He cut
it in two with his knife.  Now it fit.  He wrapped the duct tape over
her mouth.  She still screamed, but she was impossible to hear.  He
wrapped her in his sweat pants and stuffed the package into his gym
bag.

	The door nearest the dumpster was locked.  But he saw light escaping
from one about 50 feet away.  It had been propped open.  He slipped
in.  No one seemed to be around.  He took the stairs up to the fourth
floor and let himself into room 405.  He dumped his gym bag on the
bed.  The baby was still crying.  He opened the champagne bottle and
chugged it.  When the bubbles started to fizz into his sinuses and he
stopped and took a breath.  He had emptied about one-third of the
bottle.

	"Okay Patricia, we are going to party tonight."

	Jordan slipped his shoes off and dropped his pants.  His dick was so
long and hard it was peeking out from his underwear waistband.  He
took another draw on the bottle.  He felt really good.  So relaxed.
He pulled off his jacket and tossed it on the floor.  Next came the
cummerbund and tie.  Another hit on the champagne bottle.  The baby
seemed to be turning blue.  He stripped off his shirt and underwear.
Both he and the baby were naked on top of the hotel room bed.

	The clock radio next to the bed read "3:38".  Jordan had a splitting
headache.  The baby he had fucked three times lied motionless next to
him.  He stuffed her back in the gym bag and searched the bed for any
telltale evidence.  He didn't see any.  But he was seeing three of
everything so he couldn't be sure.  He got dressed and left the way he
came in.  He tossed the bag into the dumpster and closed the door that
had been left open.  The door closing revealed some controls.  He
turned the knob from "OFF" to "ARMED".  Two buttons about a foot apart
now glowed red.  He pressed them.  He heard a loud buzz and the
compacter engaged.

	"Fuck!"

	The noise was going to wake the entire hotel.  He ran around to the
side of the hotel.  He saw someone walking from the parking lot
towards the building.  He was stumbling.  Probably a guest.  Jordan
was thinking more clearly than he had ever before in his life.  His
adrenaline had neutralized the effects of the champagne.  He ran to
his car, got in, and drove home.

	There was a rumor going around the school that a student had given
birth to a baby in the bathroom and threw it away.  Some said it was a
cheerleader.  Others said she wasn't a student at the school, but
someone's date.  One girl had reported seeing a lot of blood in the
bathroom.  Others dismissed it as a girl having an accident.

	Eighteen months later PFC Jordan McMinnis manned a checkpoint just
outside of Baghdad.  It was a comfortable 64 degrees.  He stood next
to the Humvee chatting with his fellow soldiers.  Jordan had the added
confidence knowing he wasn't a virgin.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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