“        HORROTICA”

a short story

© by drkfetyshnyghts 2009

Illustrated Version Exists

with artwork by TAW

ONE - A CHANCE MEETING

It was a simple, unambiguous conversation between two strangers. One a middle aged woman.  Well spoken, well educated. School Ma`am like. The other, a young girl, most certainly in her late teens.  They sat next to each other in a scruffy little bar in a less than respectable area of town. The older woman looked out of place, although she seemed familiar with her surroundings. Comfortable in them even. Given the way that this would pan out, the stark contrast of these two people being in this bar, at this time, at this exact same time makes the turn of events most chilling.  Chilling that it to the core of the spine. The kind of 'chill' that travelled the core of the spine. First up. Then back down, before settling, just there, in the area above the tail bone.

It started with an exchange of polite smiles. Then a little small-talk. The young girls name was Ella. She was new in town and obviously didn’t know anyone.  The older woman was Marjory. She sat closer to the girl as they talked more. She used softly spoken, low tones that made the young girl talk more freely, more openly. She used understanding little smiles, and frowns as Ella spoke endearing herself to the younger girl. She showed a remarkable patience and understanding between the generations as she gradually gained little snippets of valuable information from the girl.  Another chilling reminder of the circumstances of this meeting of two female minds, two very different female minds, was how it all seemed quite natural and quite uninteresting to anyone else who might have been in the vicinity.  To anyone else in that bar, at that precise time may have casually noticed the older woman in close conversation with the young girl who might have been her niece. Or even her daughter.  And it would have been just that, a casual glance in the direction of the two.  Maybe, possibly male eyes would have lingered a little longer on the pretty teenager with extraordinarily long legs.  But that was it.  Another chill down the spine later and the older lady was getting to 'know' Ella. Just gradually getting to know her. In a way, getting into her head. And staying just there.

Ella was making a fresh start in a new town.  She’d only just arrived on a bus an hour or so ago. Almost like she was running away from a life she didn’t like. Or one she preferred to forget. Marjory made sure their hips touched slightly as Ella enlightened her. This was ‘girl on girl’ stuff that the older woman encouraged and which Ella soon fell into a comfort zone with.

“Oh Mom told me I probably wouldn’t really make anything of myself… 'high heels and short skirts is all you will be any good for, you mark my words', was what she used to say to me.”

Ella giggled much like any teenager would at such remarks. Marjory tutted sympathetically before saying,

“Awwwww naughty mommy for saying that!  I think she just meant that you are a pretty girl, easy on the eye and with fabulous legs. And you really do have fabulous legs you know.”

She stroked Ella’s leg very lightly, emphasising what she was saying bringing attention to the nylon encased thigh that was crossed over the other. Ella smiled, a sincere smile as though she was re-assured by what the woman was saying. She tilted her head towards the woman, trustingly, warmly.  Much like a niece would with her Aunt. Or much like that daughter would with her Mom.

“Well… thank you so much.”

She giggled again and even blushed slightly.

“Tell you what Ella…. Drink up, lets have another…. Then maybe even another,  and you can tell me all about you.”

Her voice encouraging, slightly mischievous which appealed to the younger girl. Ella liked Marjory. She liked her a lot. Felt comfortable with her.  She couldn't remember having felt so comfortable with anyone as much before.  But that could have been down to her home-life. Her upbringing.  Just a hint there of some dysfunction. The tiniest tell-tale signs of social inadequacy.  Really, a girl in some turmoil, not simply within herself, but also with those around her. Marjory was different to the people she had been around all of her life.  She actually sat and listened to her.  She really did sit and listen to her. That was new to Ella. No-one had really ever sat and listened to her before. Or taken her seriously.  Marjory didn't just seem to take her seriously, she also seemed to take every single word in. Inwardly digesting every word and every nuance of Ella. That was it. That was what Marjory did... she found the tiniest little nuances of what the teenager was saying and then she held on to them. Even stroked them with her eyes. Yes that is what she did as well. She stroked those tiny nuances with her eyes, and with her voice. Marjory made Ella feel really good. Ella had never felt so good, so relaxed in another woman's company.

“So honey, where’s your mom now?”

Marjory just very gently, very casually digging. Sipping her drink after she had asked the question. Giving Ella time to gather her thoughts until the next spill of information from those deliciously full lips.

“Oh she died a few years ago…”

Just for a split second, Ella’s eyes filling, watery, as she remembered her mom. Marjory, her timing nano-second perfect, didn't respond immediately. It was like she was waiting for Ella's eyes to fill up. It was like she was, in a way, revelling in memories that were actually a little painful for the girl.  Marjory, waited and waited. She sipped, and swallowed and then eventually spoke.

“I`m so sorry for your loss honey….”

Marjory just touching the girls hand sympathetically, lightly. The touch was barely perceptible. The older woman using the pad of her finger tips to lightly brush over the girl's hand flesh.

“Its ok… I`m used to it now.. life goes on… I suppose.”

Ella’s smile weak. Words just resigned.  Yes that was it... there was like a resignation in her voice. Just something in the tone, and the way it poured from between her lips. It was a tone that didn't escape Marjory.  Nothing escaped Marjory. Once again she paused and didn't respond straight away. She simply shifted slightly in her seat, recrossed her own legs and then sipped her drink again before asking.

“What about Dad… he must have found it hard?”

The woman’s tone casual, the questions subtly direct and to the point. And yet always with an endearing, almost an infectious smile. One that grew on the girl. Made her like the older woman.  It was true to say that Ella was feeling a warm fuzzy glow from the inside. She hadn't spoken to anyone about her family life. Or about her life at all. And now here was this older woman, Marjory so sympathetic and so actually 'interested' in what she was saying. In what she had to say.  That fuzzy feeling was a mixture. A mixture of a weight being lifted off her shoulders, plus the kind of feeling one got when talking to girlfriends about painful things.  This warm fuzzy feeling was like alien to Ella. But she liked it. She liked it a lot.

“I didn’t know my dad. He left when I was a baby”

Another reassuring stroke, this time slightly more firmly on the young girls thigh. Also this time there was a definite denting of the thigh flesh with the stroke. A still light stroke and yet firmer of finger nail and pad through the sheer hose that encased the young girl's shapely thigh.

“Oh dear, you have had it hard haven’t you?  I can understand you wanting a fresh start.  Brothers, sisters?”

Marjory sipping her wine as she collated all the information in her head. The information sorting into neat and tidy little piles in her mind.  The conversation simply progressing in a natural way. Nothing forced. Seemingly nothing manipulated, or that would cause concern, or suspicion.  It was JUST an older woman understanding a younger girl's turmoil. Listening and understanding.  Listening and 'helping' the younger girl through it bit by bit.

“No, I`m an only child…sometimes wish I had had brothers and sisters… but no…”

Marjory nodding,  another understanding frown.

“Oh dear, like I said, I can understand you wanting a new start. Your friends will want to know you arrived safe and sound though?”

A little giggle from Ella as the older woman runs her fingers over her hand again causing a tickle, the slightest chill that the young girl didn’t feel the need to pull away from. Actually a pleasant feeling that made her spread her fingers slightly. So the woman could stroke between them. She swung her foot in a relaxed, almost carefree fashion as she spoke.

“I doubt it… I don’t have any friends who would want to know. And I lost contact with my distant family after my mother died… I just packed an overnight bag and left without a word to any-one… like I said, a complete, total fresh start. Like I just wanted to erase the past and start all over again. A completely clean slate.”

Marjory taking in the girls almost desolate words. Lets them filter in, wash around her mind then settle. She liked what she was hearing. Although she always appeared concerned and considerate to Ella’s feelings. Marjory's finger tips just ever so gently stroking between Ella's slightly spread fingers.  Just gentle, barely there strokes. Caring strokes. Comforting strokes. Right in that web between the fingers. At the apex of the taper. Where the fingers met and there was that slight 'web' of flesh between fingers. Just there. Right there. Gentle strokes.

“Come come Honey, drink up… we`ll have another one… you must need to get back to your Hotel, or room?”

There it was again. That casual collection of information. The ability of Marjory to collect and collate this information in her head was pretty astounding.  Not just astounding, but remarkable, and chilling also. That word again, chilling. Chilling was a word that could be misused in a myriad of different ways. And yet, as this episode played out, chilling was a word that could quite easily be described as inadequate. Grossly inadequate actually.

Ella didn’t notice Majory’s large, fleshy, wet slippery tongue sliding across her lips as she glanced down at her legs. Taking in their length. Their shape. The way her feet arched into the ‘fuck-me’ pumps.

“Oh my god.. I haven’t even found a room yet. Oh shit!……….”

A momentary panic from Ella. At that exact time, that split second timing again as the older woman lowered her hand to Ella's thigh again. Marjory taking the opportunity of an extended stroke of thigh encased in sheer nylon. Sidling closer to the girl. Sending hisses of hot breath around Ella's face and ear as she spoke. Imperceptible hisses of breath just gently, constantly working the senses.  It was like the hot breath was caressing Ella's face and just working its way into her senses. Into her mind.

“It’s ok Honey, really.  I don’t live far from here. Maybe you can stay with me tonight and decide what to do tomorrow… how does that sound? I wouldn’t really feel happy leaving a gorgeous thing like you, all alone with no-where to go. Especially in this part of town.”

Ella taking a large relieved sip of wine. She sure was grateful for that alcoholic bite at the back of her throat. It was like it took the edge off for her.  What with that edge being taken off, and meeting up with this kind, kind woman, things were looking up for Ella.  She nodded eagerly, agreeing gratefully.

The young girl remained unaware at this point that the continuous, systematic touches, stroking, and the calming, soothing, hypnotic voice has been working deeper nerve endings and senses within her.  Marjory smiling as she looked down, seeing the girls nipples perk through the semi-transparent top. And Ella seemingly hadn’t even noticed. The smile of the older woman different. A wickedness about it. More than a wickedness. Something else. Knowledge, experience, intent.  Yes that was it ‘intent’. Yet Another stroke of her hand… once again between the fingers. And with that stroking, this time, the slightest pout out of Ella's lips. Like a 'blow out' of her full, droopy lips. Like that massaging of her deeper senses and nerve endings was taking its toll without her even really knowing it. At least, not right away.  All she is aware of really at this time is the 'pleasure' that she had never been aware of before. But that was because of her home life, or lack of it. Or her friends, or rather her lack of friends and then the lack of social skills. She didn't really recognise what was happening to her. Or what these deeper sensations meant to her.

“Oh thank you so much… you`ve saved my life!  I cant believe how I have lost track of time! What am I like?”

Ella so grateful that the first she realises even a little of the slippery moistness between her legs, is the ever so distant wave of intense pleasure that travels the length of her spine. She stifles a gasp. Bites her lip as she manages just to retain her dignity. Probably one of the last times she would ever be able to retain her dignity. Although she couldn’t have known that. Her face flushed, she shrugs it off as she re-crosses her legs. Marjory speaking again. Knowing what has happened. Knowing the signs, reading them. Instigating them. That was what Marjory did so well. Reading the signs. Those tiny little minute signs. Those little nuances and then putting them into some kind of order. Appearing to randomly collect, collate and construct them.  But not so randomly at all. Far from random. Marjory, an expert. A total expert in the art of mind invasion. That is the invasion of other people's minds.  Yes, Marjory an absolute, consummate expert, even a professional in the art, in the field of getting into other people's minds.  True to say that she could with ease get into anyone's minds. Anyone's at all. But she didn't get into 'anyones' minds.  She carefully selected and then worked her subjects with a subtleness that chilled the bones of anyone who might know, or even had the slightest incline of her modus-operandi.  There, that word again... chilled!

“Oh nonsense!  Lets just say I was in the right place at the right time. I feel sure we are going to get along famously.    Now tell me Honey. What were you intending to do once you got settled in?

Normal conversation. Keeping Ella off-guard, and not in an accidental way. The older woman now sitting very close. Talking directly into the side of Ella’s face. One hand stroking the girls hand. Across the back. Down the fingers and between them. Lightly. Ever so lightly.  Her other wrist casually draped across the young girl’s knee. Those fingers wrapped under and stroking the back of her knee. Again lightly. Very lightly. Almost unfelt by Ella. And yet all the time working those deeper senses. The girl’s swinging foot losing momentum now. Her voice beginning to falter slightly. Probably such a slight falter that even she did not notice it. Most definitely she did not notice it. She didn't notice that faltering of her voice any more than she could put together in her mind that the older woman had completely invaded her space and not only wrapped her own mind in hers, but also, mingled limbs, enveloping limbs and ever so succinctly restricted Ella's movements.  Not restricted them in the normal sense of the word. Rather, restricted them in the sense that she didn't want to move away from the older woman's ministrations.  Ella actually found herself keeping very still, physically stopping herself from moving any of the affected fingers, or her leg, in case that feeling of intense pleasure was broken, or take away and wouldn't return.

“U-uh.. I wanted to get into nursing maybe. I have some training as a nurse in a psychiatric hospital.  I love to help people with special needs. People who need looking after. I think mental illness is a terrible terrible thing. I would love to contribute along those lines.”

Her voice trailing off as the older woman continues the stroking process. Ella just slightly clenching her thighs, feeling the stroking. Not just feeling it at flesh level, but feeling it deeper and deeper than that. With that clenching of the thighs, an added pulse of pleasure. Yes that was it. An added pulse of pleasure. Not just pleasure but intense pleasure. Feeding the wetness she knew was there. Marjory not only aware of that clenching of Ella's thighs, but also more than aware of the pleasure that would be being produced inside the young girl.  Marjory so perceptive. So experienced. Even knowing that a form of veil would be coming down around Ella by now. Kind of separating her from reality. Maybe not so much separating her from reality, as making her withdraw into herself. Yes that was it. Ella withdrawing into herself. Not wanting that pleasure to be abruptly cut off in case it didn't come back again. And, being made very aware, more than aware of the growing wetness between her legs. That wetness making her more than aware but at the same time ashamed of herself to an extent.  The withdrawing within herself acting to hyper-sensitise herself as well.  That wetness, a secret, her secret. She couldn't possibly know, at that point that Marjory would know all about that wetness. That the older woman had indeed instigated the wetness.

“Mmmmm that sound perfect for you Honey. Looking after people who need looking after… I may be able to help you with even more than a bed for a night.”

Only to the initiated would there be a slight mocking to her voice. Very slight. But very definitely there. Not really a mocking, rather... an exploratory tone. Well chosen, carefully chosen, micro-chosen words just used to test the girl. Or rather, chosen to test Ella's state of mind and state of resistance.

“You know… I live alone with my son.  He has… he has ‘problems’ and needs constant attention and looking after.  Maybe you`d like to help with him?”

The question was only half hearted. A planting of the seed.  Then a smile as the girl took it in, all of it. Considered it for all of two seconds before nodding her agreement at the same time as swilling the wine around her mouth then swallowing. Still the stroking at the back of her knee, and her hand. Then casually, a lifting of the hand, a brush across one of the girl’s nipples, already poking through the thin fabric of her top.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhhh….”

The gasp escaping audibly. Ella unable this time to stifle it. Her red lips blowing out. The deep flush of embarrassment. In the same second the reassuring stroking returning to her hand. The calming voice, brushing over the embarrassment.

“Its ok Honey. Just sit still. No need to feel bad about what you are, or what you feel. Its ok. Its ok.”

The voice a constant tone. Bordering on hypnotic and yet very much not hypnotic. Just the right tone, the right words at the right time. Her words working the young girl, making her feel relaxed and yet different. Just the most casual reference to her sexuality. To her arousal, barely noticed by an ever engrossed Ella. An ever deepeningly engrossed Ella. The question briefly, fleetingly crossing her mind, “what was she?”  And “what does she feel?”  But these were very fleeting very micro-quick flashes across her mind, and then gone again. Back into that all consuming pleasure she was beginning to become dependent on.

“You know I think you could help with Walter. Walter is my son.  I`ll introduce you tonight. See how you get on… and then we`ll take it from there. Is that a plan sweetie?”

Changing the subject. Ella grateful for that as the deep blush begins to subside. Even as the words filter in, Ella’s tiny thong, slipping between her saturated lips. Friction against the sensitivity.  That friction, that sensitivity un-beknowing to her, answering the question for her. Not being able to escape the sensation.

“Y-yes… yes that sounds like a plan.”

“Good Girl…Goood Girlll.”

Marjory’s voice, her tone gentle, persuasive.  Ella’s red lips blowing out. An exclamation of air. Eyes gently rolling in their sockets. Marjory studying those lips. Taking them in. Delicious lips. Full, smooth and deep deep red. Hooker red really. Red hooker lips.

Marjory leaving the girl to slowly sink into another existence as she goes to get he final drinks of the evening.   The effects of the drink subtle, slow acting, but total and making her susceptible to suggestion. Not drunk, or incapable, just that edge being taken off. Making her sensitive to touch. Making her semi-zombie-like and yet fully aware. Dumbing any feelings that she should be concerned. No alarm bells, or worries at all from Ella.  She swallowed and her throat rolled with that swallow. Marjory watched that swallow as well. Delicious throat. Deliciously wet swallow.

By the Time Marjory returned, Ella`s blush and flush had subsided completely. Although a slight glaze across her eyes. And yet there was also still that knowledge between the young girl, and the comparative stranger she had met just hours before. That intimate knowledge. The ‘accidental’ brush of the nipple that led to the almost wanton ‘gasp’. She still felt embarrassed inside, despite the smile as the older woman returned, glasses replenished.  The smile, then the eyes dropping to the lap, mascara lashes flicking up and down. Actions that Marjory noticed. Had looked for even. Another step forward. More progress. The slight smile across her lips as she sat, as closely in to Ella as she could.

“Here you go Honey. Drink up this will make you feel better about yourself.”

Words carefully chosen. Subtle words to just widen the gap between the two. The gap in ‘status’. The gap in class. Ella sucking on the glass lip willingly. Wanting the alcohol to dumb feelings of shame and then feeling again grateful that the dumbing down of these feelings began to take effect with just a few mouthfuls of the wine. So gradually acting as to be undetectable. A gradual slipping into the uber-relaxed state.  Like a retreat. A hiding place. As she had slipped into that state, the renewed stroking of the back of her hand, her fingers. Between her fingers. The stroking of her leg. The back of her knee. The gentle constant strokes that Ella had become inexplicably addicted to. That made her feel relaxed. That soothed her. That actually felt pleasurable. A sexual tickle. The state that saw Ella sitting, arms limp at her sides. A vacant stare ahead. And yet fully aware. Lips drying, slowly peeling apart. And yet the smile remaining. Infectious, strangely naïve.  Marjory’s arms dangling over her leg again, then her long manicured nail snagging the nylon, causing a slight run. Apparently an accident, and yet so expertly deliberate.

“Oh Honey… I`m sorry… how stupid of me….”

Ella looking down. Rubbing the run vacantly. A pout on her lips. A relaxed, loose pout.

“N-no.. no.. that was my fault, not yours.. my fault…My mom always said these legs would be nothing but a hindrance to me.... and this just shows she was right again.

The voice normal. Yet not normal. A drone to it. A little vacant.  Marjory openly, quite firmly rubbing the leg over the nylon run, as though trying to magically heal it.

“Hmmmm, I do so like a girl who takes and accepts responsibility Honey. That’s very, very good.  You are a Good Girl. A very Good Girl. I think we are going to get along just fine. And I know that Walter is going to just simply adore you…And yes, yes, it does look like your mom was right... these legs, the source of so much trouble. Soooo much trouble. But its ok, we can fix all of that for you. We can fix all that easily... soooo easily.”

Her words filtering in slowly. Resting on the psyche. Settling there. Making Ella feel good. A strange feeling of ‘gratitude’ for the words. For the way she was now feeling. Marjory then leaning into her, almost whispering into her ear,

“I want you to uncross your legs sweetie.  Nothing for you to worry about. Just uncross these troublesome legs. Its ok Honey… nothing to worry about...Just uncross them for me honey.”

Almost lazily Ella lifting then swinging her leg off the other. The stiletto contacting the floor, scraping slightly. Her knees touching slightly, rubbing. Nylon rasping nylon. Smiling as she obeys the suggestion. Inwardly feeling pleased with herself that she was obeying this woman.

“Good Girl. Good Girl.”

Marjory, casually picking up her bag. Unzipping it. Looking inside. Reaching inside, taking out something before continuing the now slightly firmer rubbing of the thigh, the knee.

“We`re going to leave here soon.  Just act normally, finish your drink. No rush.  But I want to put something inside you first.  Something that will make you feel very very good. Is that alright sweety? Do you understand?”

Ella nodding. Her tongue sliding out and across her lips. Looking down at Marjory’s open hand exposing five pink rubber balls, egg shaped. Looking more closely seeing them gently vibrating, rolling around the open palm and all connected by a thin micro wire through the centres. The string of pink balls all humming gently and vibrating and moving as though organically around Marjory's palm.

“U-uh y-yes. Yes I understand.”

“Good Girl.  I just want you to open your legs a little. Just a little ok….”

Ella nodding. Looking down as her knees begin to spread a little. The woman, using the finger tips of her full hand to stroke the inside of the thigh high, then higher. Finding the lace tops of her stockings. Then the tiny, saturated wet crotch of the tiny thong. Gently peeling that out of her sex, then stroking the creamy slit before sliding one finger inside. Then two. Then three. Then the eggs slipping inside one at a time. Past the outer folds of sex flesh to the delicate, sensitive inner folds. Then deep inside. Ella gasping. The woman’s calm soothing words…

“Its ok honey these will make you feel good. Real good.  You`ll feel them get bigger inside you. Feel them expanding.  Just relax. Enjoy the feeling. Let them take your mind as well as your body.”

The woman speaking gently as she implants the eggs deep inside Ella.  Ella exhaling air through her full lips as she feels the eggs expand. Stretch her inside gently and continue to vibrate. Little ‘mewing’ sounds coming from her as she adjusts herself slightly, sinks back with another gasp into the seat. Marjory watching Ella nibbling her bottom lip, trying to make sense of what is happening what she is feeling but failing. The tiniest smile of gratification on her lips as the young girl takes another step ‘down’ into her world.

“Good Girl…You`re a very special girl Honey. Very very special.”

Ella feeling good at the words. And the sensations the eggs were beginning to produce making her feel very good. Very special. Sitting back, legs slightly spread, head back a little eyes rolling as the eggs settle, and find their natural nooks and crannies.

“I need to look in your bag Honey. Could you pass it to me please? You don’t mind do you?”

Ella reaching a lazy arm for the bag. Shaking her head. She didn’t mind. Her mind and body too preoccupied with the sensations the eggs were creating throughout her. Passing the older woman her bag.  Marjory, casually going through the contents. Separating certain items to one side. Replacing others.  Social Security ID card not put back into the bag. Driving licence not replaced.  Passport not replaced.  Wallet. Credit cards. Cash. Not replaced. Effectively confiscating Ella’s identity. Marjory then closing the bag, reaching over the gasping girl replacing it at her side. Brushing over her nipples again as she pulls back. Several brushes of the nipples making her cry out. Not crying out loud. Just a little private cry between the two.

“Mmmmm its ok sweetie. You`ll have a lot of pleasure in a few minutes. All in one go when you come. Nothing else will matter. Just that pleasure because it will be so intense, so beautiful for you. Take it, feel it all. Then we’ll go ok Honey?”

The older woman’s voice now with a slight hint of manic about it. Only just though. It wouldn’t have been noticed by Ella who was beginning to exist in a different world. The eggs working her delicate folds of sex flesh, working them up, lubricating them. One egg lodged around behind her clitoris, pressing it out, sending gentle vibrations, forcing the approaching orgasm in something like a tidal wave, or tsunami.  Her red lips trembling as that first wave rushes over her.  A loud exclamation

“uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh”

Her lips trembling. Vibrating. Marjory rubbing the thigh and the hip of the girl. Another wave. A little squeal from Ella. Her legs stretching, knees opening as she absorbs the intensity.  Another wave. A sob. Marjory looking down at the seat. A puddle of juices from Ella that she slides around in as she comes and comes.  An almost obscene sight as Marjory smiles. Steadies the girl with her words.

“There there… you`re are doing so well Honey. Well done. You deserve that pleasure you know. Did you know girls like you deserve to get pleasure and give it?”

The come subsiding, the woman’s ‘kind’ words sinking in making her feel good about herself again. Like nothing else matters than the intensity of the orgasm and kind kind words from her new ‘friend”. Ella nodding agreeing that “girls like her” should receive and give pleasure. Marjory smiling.

As Ella came down from an intensity of orgasm she had never experienced before, the older woman preparing to leave with her.

“Just walk with me. Stay close. I`m going to leave the eggs inside you Honey because you deserve it?

Ella nodding, understanding. Logic right back in her mind. The alcohol making her so relaxed and yet so aware of what is happening. Not drunk or incapable, just so aware and yet so relaxed.  The grateful smile on her face. Genuine gratitude that she could keep the eggs inside her. How kind was her new friend?  And that she could go with the woman. This kind woman was taking a 'girl like her' with her. That was sooo kind of her. An unnatural addiction beginning taking hold. Another gasp as her swollen, teat like nipples throbbed, sending another intense wave of pleasure between her legs. Deep deep down.

A few minutes later they were leaving. An older woman. A young girl who had drunk slightly too much wine. Or so it appeared. Marjory giving a little shake of the head to the bar tender as though to say “uh.. these youngsters will drink too much than is good for them.”  The tender giving a knowing, nodding, understanding smile. She had seen it all too often. The eggs working deep inside Ella. Her legs feeling weakened. The stilettos forcing a wobble, an unsteady walk. But she clung to the older woman. Let herself be led.

Then they were out onto the night.

TWO - WALTER:

That walk out into the night was a little eerie. Not for Ella herself. Oh no, not for her.  Ella had already lost all sense of time, and even of logic.  But for an outsider, looking in on the scene. It would be an eerie scene.  Like one.. Uhmmmm yes, like one of a spring lamb being led to the slaughter. Slaughter being the wrong word really.  Ella wasn't being led to the slaughter. Rather she was being led to an enhanced life. Yes that was it, and enhanced life.  Almost, yes almost like a life within a parallel world to the normal world.  Hmmm, yes that was it. Ella would be aware of the normal world, all faded to grey and running alongside her new world. She would be very aware of it. She would be very aware that she was no longer part of that normal world.  And yet, at the same time she would be even more aware of her new existence. Her new world. Her new focus in life.  Yes, “lamb to the slaughter” was the wrong analogy and yet, at the same time it seemed fitting in that Ella was so young, so bambi-like in her stance. And then there were her huge, saucer like eyes as events had unfolded. Wide, stark, staring, almost manic, and yet at the same time with a distance to them. Like a mist over them. A mist that was there for a purpose. Like it was that mist that was the partition between Ella and the normal world. The mist that was keeping her from that normal world. But not just that, also a mist that was drawing her further into the new existence. Her new life.  If it could be called a life.  Well yes, it was a life.. sort of.

Even as Ella had stood to leave that bar with the older lady, she had felt those eggs move inside her.  But they hadn't JUST moved inside her. With  her movements they had seemed to expand some more. Pressed up against her inner walls. They had seemed to locate and find all of her most sensitive nooks and crannies and then settled there. And where the the ultra smooth round surfaces of the eggs had found each other, they had then glided over each other, deep inside Ella. And ss they had glided over each other they had produced an undulating, almost organic pulsating movement inside her. Not just pressing against her inner walls, but at the same time, sliding over them. Grinding into them. Gliding and pressing into those inner walls. Those inner wall coated, in thick, musousy juices. Like a film of the young girl's most intimate bodily produce. Those eggs, not just gliding over each other and pressing into those most delicate inner walls and nooks and crannies but also, the micro-vibrations a constant.  An absolute constant.  Not a crude, humming vibration, but rather, an almost sub-sonic level vibration of each and every egg that felt like it was not just massaging the most intimate inner feminine flesh of the girl, but penetrating it. Yes penetrating it and massaging deeper, and then deeper still.  Each egg taking its turn to locate the girl's G spot and then work on that. Ella had found her G spot before, once. She had slid some fingers inside herself and hooked them back at the top of her slit. Hooked them back and then pressed into the flesh from the inside to find that little piece of coarse yet ultra-sensitive flesh. It had then been a simple case of her using the pad of one finger tip to rub, and then rub a little harder. Then softly again. Then harder. Those simple movements of one single finger tip causing her the most intense please and eventually a tsunami of an orgasm. Wave after wave of undiluted orgasm that had made Ella weak at the knees. And had made her squirt juices from her sexuality with a force of someone urinating in a gush.  But these eggs didn't just do that. They didn't simply locate that rough spot and then press and rub. What they did was more than that. Those eggs rubbed and rotated, and pressed.... and then their micro-vibrations felt on a sub-level cajoled the flesh, sensitising it and then at the same time penetrated it.  Hmmm, yes, it would be true to say that the eggs that Marjory had so casually slipped inside the girl were causing untold turmoil inside her body... and indeed inside her mind.

At first, at that precise time when Ella had stood and simply felt the shift inside her she had taken a very audible gasp.  And there had been that ever so slight stoop. Ella was usually tall, and kind of elegant in that immature way, And yet when she stood with those eggs inside her, she gasped and almost cried out. Well it wasn't really a cry-out. It was more like a 'mewling'. It was like a saliva drenched gurgle in the back of her throat, that seemed to spill over her deliciously full red lips at the same time that the little salival bubbles appeared at the corners of her mouth.  Marjory taking her by the arm gently. Just leaning into her so that her own mature breasts crushed into the young girl's arm.

“There, there... take your time... just take your time. Just stand, absorb the sensations before you try to take any steps.. goood girl, goood girl.”

All the time Marjory's voice just slipping into Ella's psyche and staying just there.  And that's what she did, Ella. She simple stood, took that mewling, gurgling drenched gasp and simply stood, slightly hunched, slightly stooped as she tried to absorb what the eggs were doing to her insides. It was the stoop, and the constant movement of her stiletto's on the bare tiled floor of the bar that had given her that intoxicated look. That and the distance in her eyes.  Oh yes, and the clenching of her knees. As though she wanted to relief herself. As though she were just about to relieve herself anyway because she had no choice.  Marjory holding her and as though she were really, really concerned.  No-body though took any notice.  Guys looked the young girl over, not because they were at all concerned at her apparent drunkenes but because they were in all probability imagining the kind of things they could do with her, given half a chance.  Even the occasional woman gave such a glance, followed by an understanding almost melancholic smile to the older woman who was helping her. Ella and Marjory would be in these people's minds for all of a split second at the most and then they would carry on, in that normal world. The one that was starting to run parallel to Ella's new world. The normal grey world, right by the side of Ella's hyper-intense, brightly coloured world.

“MMMMMMMM UHHHHHHHHHH MMMMMMMMMMMM.”

That gurgling, dripping gasp even before she took her first steps.  Stiletto enhanced steps that were more like stumblings through the crowded dingy bar. In a way it was easy to disguise those stumbling through the crowd. Marjory holding her arm, guiding her. Ella carefully placing one foot in front of the other and at the same time feeling those eggs moving in her. Feeling them moving but at the same time sending what can only be described as little tingling pulses into the base of her clitoris. It seemed with every step she took, the movements enabled the eggs to work deeper and then deeper again. Ella's mind was screaming really. She had endured that orgasm. If it could be called an orgasm and her mind had barely coped with that. She had thought she knew all about orgasms. Thought being the operative word.  And, even though that orgasm had subsided and died before she had stood up. It was like it was actually still there, just bubbling under the surface of her clitoris. Or more precisely, under the tip of her clitoris. The very tip. So not only did the eggs keep working deeper inside her. Working those smooth slippery inner walls, and the rough yet uber-sensitive G spot... but they also kept feeding her clitoris. Kept the orgasm alive. It was these sensations, these maddening, incessant, non-stop sensations that were working to melt the mind of the girl. Truth be known, Ella's mind was well on the way to being melted even before she left that bar.

The walk, back to Marjory's premises was long, and laboured, and yet at the same time it was timeless. At least it was timeless for Ella. She had regained the strength in her quite exquisite legs. They still felt weak and yet at the same time she had found her footing and was able to put one stiletto in front of the other and was able to take those steps in the chilled night air.  Like in a dream really. Up streets, and down little side streets and then through narrow unlit alleyways eventually coming to the premises owned by Marjory.

A seemingly innocuous, unremarkable little house set in its own grounds. Surrounded by trees and yet, clearly viewable from the sidewalks and roads. The single storey house, or cottage, or bungalow seemed odd, not in itself, but in the way that it seemed in a way out of place in a row of similarly detached premises in the same lane. But whereas all the others were up to date, modernised, Marjory's hadn't been touched for what seemed like years. Many years.  And the render, where it had once been a bright 'pink' in colour,  yes pink, it had now faded back. The pink visible still, very much so, but it wasn't any longer so vivid, or burning on the retinas of anyone whose eyes looked it over.  And in places it had begun to peel off leaving the bare stone under it. The overall look of the house gave it that 'quaint' look that made people 'smile'. The same quaintness really that anyone placed on Marjory if they saw her. She was the harmless little spinster living alone in that house and who occasionally enjoyed a quiet drink in one of the town pubs.  And then there was her son, Walter.  She used to have a son.  But he hadn't been seen or heard of for years.  Walter hadn't been normal. He had never spoken and was rarely if ever seen out in public.  There were  just occasional glimpses of him, in the gardens of the house. Or passing between the various outbuildings.  But even those sightings had faded to nil. No-one ever asked Marjory where Walter was these days. They didn't feel it their business and Marjory, in her rather astute, aloof manner didn't invite such enquiries.  There wasn't a husband either. As far as anyone knew, there had never been a husband.  Or a partner of any sort.  Actually, it had only ever been taken for granted that Walter was indeed Marjory's son. Just because that is the way it had seemed. It just seemed that the strange, slightly retarded boy was her son.  Thinking about that more deeply could and should produce a slightly shaking of the head. One shouldn't jump to conclusions. One just should not jump to conclusions.  Actually if one were to just take a moment to think deeper about Marjory, and  about Walter, and about her house and just in general about this seemingly harmless woman, one would realise that some things just didn't add up.  More than that... it wasn't just that things didn't seem to add up, it was like there was something strange about her. Sinister even.  Yes that was it. If one were to stop and think for just a few seconds even, little creeping doubts and questions would rise in the mind.  But that was just it, no-one ever did stop to think, or to question. It was just a matter of fact that no-one ever did stop and think. It was just Marjory for god's sakes! What was there to 'think' about?

Ella's state of mind once she reached that house had diminished somewhat. Or to put it more succinctly, her mind had been focused on what those eggs had been doing to her body and mind to such an extent that her ability to think logically had all but diminished. Their expansion inside her had kept them inside her. Those eggs inside her, pressing her inner walls and rubbing them. And at the same time their bulk, and sheer volume had pressed her sex down and out into a pout. It would look quite obscene and if one were to look even closer one would see the flesh covered undulations of the eggs inside her as they moved and rotated and did their work on her.  Always one, behind her clitoris deep inside pressing against her G spot and rubbing it. No matter what form her movements took. The movements of the eggs a constant. Always one pressing against the G spot and at the same time pressing the clit out of its hood. Pressing it right out and peeling it out of its hood.  A closer look would reveal the clitoris to be engorged, and full. Bloated even. A microscopic look would reveal that clitoris 'quivering' in time to the micro-spasms that the vibrations of the eggs were causing.  Little micro-quiverings of that most sensitive piece of flesh. An organ in itself.  And yet, even as Ella stood slightly shivery on the doorstep of that quaint little house waiting to be let in, one wouldn't need to look too closely to see that that organ, that quivering piece of engorged feminine flesh was also dripping.  Such had been the ministrations of the eggs inside her, the stiletto enhanced walk back, and Ella's new focus, that the juices she produced had become like a constant dripping tap. Or more accurately, like a gushing tap that was impossible to turn off.  What tiny panties she had been wearing had saturated and twisted between her puffed labia, and there was nothing preventing the juices collecting on her clitoris and then simply dripping. Her whole sex was a mush of sensitive, screaming flesh. Her inner thighs was saturated and offered no resistance as she took step after step. The flesh simply rubbing together, the thighs simply sliding over each other. That sliding doing nothing to discourage the production of more juices.  Those juices soaking into her thighs, working down to the delicate lace stocking tops and then soaking into that. Those juices soaking and staining the stocking tops. But not just that. Soaking further and further down. Ella, for all her youth and beauty was beginning to look like a dishevelled and somewhat obscene individual.

“MMMMM GODDDDDDD.....MMMNGNGNGNGNGNNGNGN.”

Ella wasn't really making any sense on that doorstep. The toll between her legs was obvious even if the skirt, just about, covered her up. Yes it was. But it also told on her attractive face. Her heavily made up, and yet pretty features had become drawn and pale. Oh that prettiness and attractiveness was still there. Even enhanced somewhat. Colour gone and yet full, smooth lips that same deep deep red. As though all the blood had drained to her lips and swollen them slightly further enhancing the gloss she wore. Made them more puffy. Made them quiver. Much in the same way as her lower lips.  Like she was micro-mumbling. But not mumbling anything coherent. Or barely anything audible.  Marjory just propping the young girl against the porch of the quaint house as she retrieved her keys from her bag.

“It's ok Ella.... you are intelligent enough to know that you have got issues. That you are a sick young lady and that you need help.  I'm going to help you Ella. I'm going to help you get better. I mean you do want me to help you don't you Ella?”

Marjory's voice an almost poisonous 'hissing' in the cold night air and carefully restrained so that it reached the ears only, of Ella and didn't carry out beyond the grounds of the house. Ella just about answering,

“MMMMM YESSSSSS HELP, P-PLEASE HELP YESSSSSSSSS.”

Marjory smiling, like a little crooked smile. Quite a scary smile really. Her thin lips stretched even thinner as she slipped the key into the lock and turned it, then pushed the door open.

“Gooood girl Ella. Well yes I will help you but you need first to take responsibility for what you are, who you are. I mean you do take responsibility for being this sick, sick girl. Disgusting, obscene girl don't you Ella. You do admit what you are and that you need help?”

It was as though the older woman was gaining some pleasure out of the doorstep interrogation. Well actually not gaining 'some' pleasure out of it but gaining a lot. Ella was puffing out her lips, one hand to her brow as she tried to cope. But to her it all made sense. Of course she was sick and needed help. Of course she had to accept responsibility for what she was, who she was. It was all so lucidly clear in her head even though she couldn't quite transfer that into the eloquently spoken word.

“MMMMMMMMMM YESSSSSS DISGUSTING... OBSCENE..NEEEED HELP NEED HELP BADLY.”

Another sickly, self gratified smile from the older woman. Just as she was guiding Ella into the dark inner house, her mature hand slipping under the skirt of Ella. Down over her skirted ass cheeks and then under the hem. Finding the girls bum cheeks and burrowing between them to find the rose bud hole that had been saturated with her juices. Another gasp from Ella, then a moan as Marjory simply rimmed the asshole of the girl with her finger tip. Just ever so gently. Round and round and using the natural slippery lubrication in the process.

“Good girl, good girl.”

Just those hissed words as the door was clicked shut.  And the additional click of inner, electronic locks slipping into place.  Not even the most keen of hearing would have heard the additional “hisssssss” as a sound proofed, airtight seal was activated.

There was a thick ribbon of drool stretched between Walter's fleshy lips and Ella's back.  The thin, semi-transparent material of the top had soaked the drool up and there was a pool of drool beginning to form in the the dead centre. Had it not been for the thin material of the top, had her back been bare flesh, the drool would have simply run down the centre of her spine, into the dip, because she was on her all-fours and her knees were wide on the floor. As it was, the pool of drool was being soaked up by the material and the saturation was spreading out further and further.  It was a constant drool ribbon spilling from Walter's mouth as he fucked Ella's ass.  His grunts as her fucked her ass were the feed for the drool. Making the drool spill out in waves. Quite surreal was the unbroken ribbon from his lips to her back.  Even more surreal given the waves caused by his grunts. His grunts were in association with his reaming of Ella's ass. Using the full length of a quite gargantuan, thick, long, vein nobbled cock, in and out of Ella's ass. The out stroke pulling the ring of the ass out with it and with that out-stroke the obvious obscenity of the amount of stretch needed to take such an amount of thickness and length.

“MMMMMM NNNNGNGGNGNNGNGNNGNGNGN GNGGNGNGNGNNGNGNG.”

The noises coming from Ella belied the almost inhuman size of the cock that was steadily pistoning in and out of her. She should have been screaming, or something, in pain at what was happening to her most intimate rear passages. Instead, she was almost mewling in hyper-pleasure.  Her tits were swinging under her having been scooped from the top and mauled by Walter. Her erect nipples pointed directly towards the floor as they swung and the larger flesh area of her breast orbs were covered in finger marks, kind of creating a stark contrast with the pale perfection of the rest of the flesh. Those tits swung in time with Walter's fucking. Every so often he would grunt and reach around to feel, and squeeze, or twist one of the swinging breasts.  On the in-stroke Ella's eyes would peel further and further open the further in the cock went.  Just at that point where to obscenely sized, mushroom shaped head of the cock nudged Ella's colon, her eyes would be at their widest and their most bulging. Yes that was a good word, bulging. Just at that very precise time where that monstrous cock head collided with her colon, so Ella's eyes would bulge, almost popping, and the tiniest little mewling squeal would come from her. But this would be followed by an almost grateful sigh. Like a wanton, groan that spilled from the delicious mouth of the girl and yet emanated from somewhere much much deeper. Like beyond the pit of her stomach. It just rose and rose and then stayed hanging in her mouth before just spilling out, dripping out as Walter began the out stroke all over again. In doing so, dragging the stretched red inner flesh of the ass with it, exposed for anyone to see. Had anyone been there to see.

Ella was so accommodating, so greedy for Walter's cock, simply because the eggs were still inside her working her. They hadn't stopped working her. They had worked her body into a frenzy and were in the advanced stages of doing exactly the same to her mind when she had been shown into the house. It would be true to say that she had passed the point of any return. A quite chilling display by Marjory of the sucking in of a young girl into her clutches. Yes that word again. Chilling. And it was chilling. And that is what she had done. She had seen her, talked to her and simply, quite simply she had overwhelmed her in ways that belie conventions of normal behaviour.  Just the casual slipping in of those eggs and it was mission accomplished just like she knew it would be.

Walter was a strange looking man.  Well 'man' may have been the wrong word.  He looked like a hybrid between man and boy.  He had the body, the physique of an extremely large, fit grown man and yet he was hairless and smooth. Pale flesh almost glistening.  And the face, although manly, also was at the same time was boyishly smooth. The drooling, mature fleshy lips giving away the maturity in age but the rest causing conflict in the mind.  In standing mode, Walter would have measured in excess of six feet. Well in excess of six feet.  Probably six feet six.  It was difficult to determine exactly since Walter never stood up as such. Or not any more any way.  He was always in some sort of stopped, creature like poise that just added a conflict to the mix.  Stooped slightly, knees bent, and yet back in its natural curved arch and seemingly long arms hanging limp, swinging slightly at his sides.  The similarity in stance to an ape was glaringly obvious and yet at the same time possibly, slightly unfair given Walter's smooth manboy appearance. Of course, the nakedness didn't assist one in coming to any other than a creature conclusion.  Or the head harness come muzzle which was tightly attached to the head and face of Walter.  Which in turn fed further tight latex straps and a harness secured to Walter's upper body.  It was obvious from the head and face section of the harness that Walter would not be able to bite anyone. Its design was deliberate in its prevention of that. It was the purpose of it. And yet the tightness around the head, allowing quite strict control of the head movements via attached leash, or reins.  Somehow though the head, face and neck harness and restraint seemed inadequate for purpose. Walter looked extremely strong. Looked extremely capable of sustained aggression and strength. Which accounted for the extension of the harness and strapping around the shoulder and upper torso of the manboy.

One wouldn't simply 'look' at the sight that was Walter. One would gawp in open jawed amazement. Or disbelief. Or both.  Walter's cock didn't look natural on him. It was like an appendage that had been put on as a second thought. And yet it was real so real.  There was the smooth, hairlessness of Walter, and yet this brutal huge harnesed cock swaying in front of him. The erection a permanent thing. Brutal. Vein ridden. Engorged and with a hideously sized, mushroom end that threatened to mangle anything it came into contact with.  From the end of that cock a continuous dripping of pre-cum fluids giving it an alien like air to it.  The harness, around the base of the cock and enormous purple testicles finished off what was an intimidating sight. Perhaps 'the' weapon of choice for a protagonist is a disturbing horror stroke erotic story.  Except that this wasn't a story in that sense of the word. No not in that sense of the word at all.

Walter seemed to dwarf Ella to diminutive size. The girl was normally tall, willowy which gave her age an added boost and yet on her all-fours, folded like a bitch under the huge Walter she seemed smaller. She seemed tiny. And the sight of her impaled on that huge, huge brutal cock which had stretched and mauled her rectum to the absolute maximum was heart stopping for anyone lucky enough to see it.  Her skirt had been ripped and was hanging in shreds from her as he fucked her ass.  Closer inspection would reveal the workings of the eggs inside her. Undulations of her cuntal flesh, and her very lower belly flesh just above the pubis. Undulating and rolling, working her inside flesh. Those smooth, slippery, almost creamy inner walls taking the hit off the vibrating eggs as the thick, pumped up cock slipped in and out of her back passage.  That slipping in and out of the cock not progressing quietly. Obscene, perverse noises as saturated male flesh worked dripping female flesh in the most acute, deliberate way. In and out in and out. That nobbled shaft of thick vein ridden cock stretching the hole and the rear tunnel to the maximum and yet at the same time pressing down against the thin membrane of flesh that separates the anal tunnel from the vaginal. Almost pressing right through and against the eggs working the other side of that thin film of flesh. The eggs rotating and turning inside her. Swapping places with each other. Each egg producing a slightly different tone of micro vibrations and in doing so teasing and tormenting the young girl's flesh. Feeding the need that was growing and growing in her engorged clitoris. Feeding it and bringing her to the brink. Ella reaching between her own spread knees and up, feeling for those gargantuan balls that slapped up against her wetness. Her finger nails teasing, and coaxing Walter's seed to the head of his cock. Teasing and tickling. Making sure it all came up the tubes in readiness to squirt into her. No-one would ever be able to explain the digression from smart young girl about to embark on a new life to, this dripping needy slut creature. No-one would be able to explain it for two reasons. One that it was simply not possible to explain such a change in such a relatively short space of time. And two, no-one would know anyway. No-one would know. No-one would ever be aware that Ella had ever existed. She was already on the point of no return.

“So this is how you repay me? I offer to help you with your 'issues' and this is how you repay me. You come to my house and take advantage of my Walter.. in the most obscene ways imaginable.”

Marjory's voiced hissed from between her thin, stretched lips.  She had stood silently in the doorway as she watched her Walter in the final throws of fucking Ella's ass. Then she had watched their combined, intense orgasms.  Apparently she had left the two to get acquainted with each other and then even more apparently come in once the deed had been done. Her feigned shock and disgust very realistic, very shocking to Ella, who just for a slight nano second had come to realise what had just happened. Her reaction instantly to take responsibility... and blame.

“I'mmm sooo sorry.. I don't know what came over me. I'm so sorry. It wasn't Walter it was me. It wasn't his fault it was all my fault...allll MY fault.”

Even as she was sobbing the confession Walter was still sliding his cock in and out of her. This time though the spent semen was cascading out and over the floor. She had experienced the most intense orgasm of her life thus far. Walter's cock and the eggs working inside her to explosive effect. Marjory coming right into the room and then squatting on her own heels as she ran a hand  under the girl... pressing her palm to her undulating sexuality, and rasping a finger pad over the tip of the clitoris almost, but not quite sending the girl into another immediate orgasm. But not quite.

“Yesss thats right all YOUR fault. You need help so badly. So badly.... you disgusting little creature. Oh yes. I am going to help you – I am going to help you like you have never  been helped before.”

Marjory moving her hand to catch the dribbling semen and mixed juices in a pool in the centre of her palm. Then lifting the hand, careful to retain the pool, under the nose of the girl. Ella's nostrils flaring as she sniffed and then slid out her tongue, into the pool. Tasting herself and tasting Walter all at the same time.

“Good girl. Good girl.”

THREE - A NEW EXISTENCE

The woman’s voice echoed eerily off the pitch black walls, the ceiling and the bare painted, stone floor of the corridor.

“Make your way to the end, to the mirror.”

Her voice trailed off, and then a loud sharp C R A C K. Like the sound of bare hand on flesh. There was a deep sigh, a bizarre, creeping in-take of breath and then the unsteady shuffle of metal heel tips on the bare floor.

The corridor was dimly lit by a row of six red light bulbs hanging bare from single flexes down the middle of the ceiling.  This cast weird, red tinted shadows in the blackness. There were two humans in the corridor. Both female.  One was normal. A mature woman, her hair in a high tight bun. She was conservatively dressed in a fitted tweed skirt and jacket suit.  The other wasn’t normal. She was exceptionally tall, much taller than the normal woman. And she moved in a laboured, pained way. With each short shuffling step, a little whimper. A little exclamation of air.

As she shuffled under one of the lights, the vision became clear. She was all but naked, and hairless. The sheen off her smooth head was intersected by a tight fitting, heavy duty latex harness. The harness also intersected her face. The purpose of the harness was to deform her face. It did this job extremely well.  From the frame of latex around her eyes protruded stainless steel stiffeners. These were fitted and adjusted around the eyes and into the sockets and under the upper and lower lids, keeping the eyes open, preventing blinking. Exposing the red flesh under the lids around the eyeballs so preventing closure. Forcing the wide staring eyeballs to bulge and protrude in grotesque way.  There were no eye brows, or eye lashes.  From the side and top of the latex frame similar stainless steel protrudes hooked into her nostrils and then adjusted, tightened so the nostrils were wide open. Elongated black holes.  Her breathing hissed through her nostrils. A constant intake and exhalation of air as though she were connected to a ventilator.  Or some other contraption. In the dim red gloom of the corridor the sound was chilling. Yes that word again 'chilling'. Except that where it was used before, it seemed overstated. Exaggerated even.  Now though, any onlooker would feel that chill. No though, that word 'chilling' didn't seem enough to convey the scene as it was portrayed.

Around her mouth, a more elaborate calliper device forcing the jaws to remain open and with further tightly adjusted stainless steel blunted hooks peeling the upper lips high and the lower lips right down exposing teeth and gums. The teeth looked perfect, as though bleached white. But the gums, upper and lower bared the tiniest of scars right across and under each tooth. Evidence of quite recent surgery perhaps. Dental work even, as in root canal work. Not simply on one tooth though, possibly all of them. The scars equal and each equally healing leading one to believe the work had been carried out in one go. All in one go.

Further hooks into the corners of her mouth forced it wider.  Every few seconds a large, fleshy pink tongue would come into view, the tip trying to find the lips that were held out of reach. An odd dribble of saliva then, then the awful, disturbing sound of her trying to suck the saliva back in before it drooled down over her breasts.  Of course, this poor creature, and she can only have been described as a 'creature' couldn't possibly catch every ribbon or dribble of drool. Rather she tried.  And that was it... in that insanity that was that scene, in the red lighted corridor, that was most telling thing, was that she 'tried'. She tried and yet sometimes failed.

The unfortunate girl would be unrecognisable to anyone who knew her previously. From her face alone, an age would not been able to have been determined. From her extremely distorted face alone, barely a sex could be determined. Only from her wide, bulging, staring eyes could a distressed, suffering existence be definitely determined.  However, only part of the source of her suffering was visible.  There seemed to be a permanent, endless, low guttural groan that came from her mouth. Not so much that it came from her mouth, but that it came from somewhere even beyond the back of her throat. Maybe from the pit of her stomach. Or even beyond that. It was a noise that was always there. It didn't go away. Even between steps, or between other indignities and horrors, that noise remained constant.

Her head was held in a brace made up of surgical stainless steel rods. It held her head rigid so that she could look only forward. This brace was then harnessed to her shoulders and upper torso.  Very recent spinal surgery had fused the upper part of her spine where it joined the neck. This permanently and irreversibly altered the angle of her head. Tilted it upwards so that she could not, nor would she ever be able to drop her head. She would always hold her head high, looking directly ahead and with minimal sideways movement.  This tilt, emphasised and accentuated the arch of her back. The stance that this produced was one of 'pride' and a dignity that was held in tact. Except the dignity wasn't held in tact. Nor the pride.  This was a twisted vision of femininity enhanced. Not femininity enhanced in a normal way. Or a natural way. Rather a femininity enhanced to the maximum by unnatural means.  Surgery and bondage.  That is surgery and bondage of the most explicitly extreme variety.  Not surgery that would be carried out by any normal means, or by any normal person. Far far from that. And the bondage... not a bondage in the fun sense of the word. This was most definitely not pink fluffy handcuffs type of bondage. This was a bondage of the mind and body and of the most debilitating variety.

Her whole stance was further accentuated by the highest possible spiked heels. These shoes, forced her to tip-toe and her feet to arch severely.  Only the shape of her torso, her legs, hips and large breasts gave her sex away. And possibly her age – very late teens, possibly early twenties.  Late teens more likely the case. In fact most definitely the case. A certain immaturity, inexperience at dealing with the height of her heels was evident from the way her knees almost touched. Of course this could have been caused by other factors. But that was it, that was just it, those factors all melded into each other to create this knowledge. This assumption, this conclusion that this was indeed a teenager in the depths of despair, and torment.

The stance strangely accentuated her long shapely legs. It also accentuated her distress. She wore sheer flesh coloured, self supporting stockings with darker lace top bands which clung tight and high where inner thigh flesh met her smooth, hairless crotch region. The delicacy, and intricacy of the lace highlighted the cruel brutality of girl’s terrible predicament. Like a stark contrast between the delicate intricate lacing and the brutality of the bondage and the scene in general.  Her legs were extremely long. Extremely shapely. The shiny, fine denier nylon emphasising them yet more. In her natural state, this girl would have been five feet eight inches tall. The seven heels she wore brought her to a towering, agonised six feet three inches.  Her balance was precarious at best and this accounted for the shuffling metallic sounds as her heels shifted.  Her ability to balance was further retarded by the flesh coloured tight latex belt stretch around her middle. This was broad and at the sides, stainless steel rings emerged. In the dim red light it looked as though the rings emerged from her flesh.  They didn't of course, although one could be forgiven for thinking that the flesh just on her sides above her hips had been pierced.  That wasn't the case. Not at all, no. Similarly, rubber wrist bands, flesh coloured and with emerging steel rings which were interlinked with the ones at her sides, effectively cuffing her forcing her elbows, and shoulders back, thrusting out her breasts. It was no surprise really that those noises came from this female creature.  There was her relatively tender years, together with the intense trauma she was obviously suffering.

“HISSSSSSSSSSSS HISSSSSSSSSSSS HISSSSSSSSSSS.”

Her bared, well developed breasts were tipped with abnormally large nipples.  These looked to be extremely sensitive. Permanently erect and so full of blood they looked black.  It was as though they had received extended attention of one kind or another. The nipples resembled blackened grapes so ripe they were just about to drop off the bush. But even the angry looking, engorged nipples didn't tell the whole story. Not anywhere near it. Even though the scars had long since faded and almost vanished... these huge, abnormal nipples had been operated on as well. They had been cut and lifted so that micro vibrators could be inserted. Totally invisible vibrators that were buried in the deeper base of each nipple and yet which permanently vibrated, feeding each nipple, making them stay erect. Making them stay full, thick and rubbery. But more than that, making them ultra-sensitive. Making them permanently responsive. Always, but always aroused. Always feeding a deeper need. The vibrators working practically unnoticed. The only clue was the perma-erections. The perma-sensitivity.  The only thing being felt by the creature was the slow steady throbbing, emanating from the very inner base of each nipple and then feeding that throb to the tip of each. It was the very tip of her nipples that seemed to cause the most anguish. They almost, at times, visibly throbbed. Glowed even.

Oh My God!  There was a tail also. A tail that swished back and forth across the backs of her legs with every slight move she made.  It was a long tail, that reached to her the middle of her calfs. It was made of thick red brown hair. The same thick hair that had been on her head.  Now though it had been woven into the rubbered end of an inflateable tube.  The tube had been lubricated then inserted into the girl’s anus. Then slowly, through a teat masked by the hair roots, this tube had been inflated. As it was inflated, it had stretched the girl. Stretched her wide. The tube also elongated, invading her deeper insides. Stretched and invaded to cause maximum discomfort. Another reason for her shuffling imbalance.  The constant feeling of needing to relieve herself. But not being able to. And the cramped, shuffling movements this caused. The pressure on her bowels, colon and bladder immense. On the outside the tail was styled such that it perked upwards, at an angle, like a high pony tail, and then swished out long, almost elegantly like it was part of her. It gave her a proud stance. An animal like quality. At the same time served to deny her human status that she had enjoyed at one time. The tail swished and waved with every twitch of every muscle. Like it was part of her. Like she had grown the tail. And yet, she was still so much a human being. Kind of. Just a debilitated one. One that was being prevented from existing in her natural habitat. Or one that was being prevented from thriving, in the natural world and in a natural way.

She shuffled into the red light more. It was probably wrong to liken this poor creature even partly to a human being. Her latex harness, head brace and contorted facial features forced a ‘caged, subdued wild animal’ conclusion.  Invisible to the naked eye and in addition to the spinal neuro surgery, further surgery to specific areas of her brain taking away her speech. And yet enhancing her awareness and understanding of what she was being put through. And making her particularly susceptible to suggestion and logic.  Deliberate surgery to maximise her suffering. Tweaks to the areas of her brain that dealt with pain, and sexual pleasure. Maximising her sensitivity to both.  Confusing both. Surgery that ultimately made her easy to train, easy to exist for sole perverse degrading purposes.  Surgery that made it impossible for her to escape her torment, even if deep down she was screaming for escape. Looking at her, it becoming obvious that even the most basic of human rights being denied her.  Dignity denied.  Any form of self control denied.   What sort of person could do this to another human being?

Marjory could do this to Ella. Or to the creature that used to be Ella. Yes, the kind older lady who had befriended the young girl in that bar. The one that had understood where Ella was coming from and had offered her a hand of friendship and understanding. The little lady, who had made Ella feel so good about herself. With herself and the one who hadn't even batted an eyelid as she had flooded the seat on which she had been sitting after she had slid those eggs into her. The one that had been able to give so much pleasure, with ease.  The same old lady who was now... well, reducing the creature who used to be Ella, to something else entirely. A completely new way of life. A completely new existence.  An irreversible one.

***C R A C K***

Another slap across the bare ass cheeks.  Under normal every day circumstances that could have been deemed a playful slap. Almost a flirtatious slap that would have caused nothing but squeals of amusement and delight and a returned flirt.  But here, now, such a slap, as light and casual as it was, caused the mind and body of the receiver, Ella to a point of trauma far beyond the playful. A squeal from deep. The scrape of heels. The shuffling. The large fleshy tongue sliding out, waving around before retracting as she moved closer to the mirror. The tail swishing back and forth across her legs.

“Move quicker… I want you to see yourself. There's a good girl, quicker now, quicker.”

A certain enjoyment,  glee even in the older woman’s voice as her hand snaked around from behind the girl, up over her hip and under one breast. Taking the weight of it. Testing the weight. The feel, the texture of it, before tweaking the nipple enforcing a long, tormented groan from deep inside. The tongue snaking again, waving, drooling. The woman smiling, knowing such attention to the nipple was sending spasms of intense pleasure through her. Just as neuro surgery intended. Neuro surgery plus the deep nipple implants. The girl shuffling… nylon thigh rasping against nylon thigh as she approached the mirror.. her eyes rolling down, her tilted backwards head forcing her to look down the length of her nose at her own reflection….

“uuuuuhhhh mmmmmm ggggggghhhhhh gggggggggggggg”

Incoherent sounds from her mouth and the heavy breathing through her extended nostrils.  Despite her restriction and deliberate mental retardation she was capable of understanding what she was seeing… completely, unreservedly.  A solitary tear dripped down her cheek, and between her breasts. What she was seeing, herself in that mirror, defied what even her body and mind were telling her

“I think mommy would be so proud of her little girl”

The woman’s voice hissed into her ear spitefully. And it was with a spite that made the flesh creep.

“IF she were alive….”

Deliberate torment. Deliberate, expertly applied triggers to the girls subconscious thoughts. The resulting pause, Marjory waiting for a reaction from the helpless teenager. Actually 'helpless' being the wrong word. Helpless was a simple word and yet in this situation it didn't seem enough. Helpless just did not do what had been 'achieved' with this girl, justice.  Marjory waiting for the hissed, sobbing reaction. It coming and then subsiding as the older woman waiting, again her timing impeccable before continuing.

“She was so right about the high heels.  And I thought the stockings were a nice touch to. I`m sure she would approve of them mmmmmmmmm.  She obviously knew what her little girl was destined for. Actually I`m sure she would have agreed with the tail as well.”

Her voice was hushed, almost maniacal but yet matter-of-fact. Chilling the girls fused spine as she struggled to take her own reflection in.  Then a flood of tears as she was reminded from deep in her psyche about her mother. About her ‘normal’ life. The woman’s voice was continuous. Same level same pitch, grating on the girls sanity even more.

“Mmmmmmm poor mommy only had the beginning of an idea what her little girl would be useful for. Such a pity she isn’t here to see her little girl now…..”

She was stroking the distressed girl’s lower back as she hissed into her ear. Familiar strokes. Comforting strokes that confused and tormented the senses even more. Ella sobbing and yet soaking up the strokes that seemed to comfort her as much as torment her.

“She did underestimate you a little. I could have shown her how much more use you actually are. Your ‘talents’ maximised.  Such a delicious, pretty girl. Lovely legs. Lovely body. Lovely mind. Such a  shame to waste them. I`m sure mommy would have agreed to maximise your talents.  And so timely. A new start. A new town. Leaving everything else behind.  Being in the right place at the right time. A god-send my dear…”

The tears flowed from the young girl. Her thoughts were lucid, clear and precise and yet she would not have been able to speak even if her face had not been contorted so. The surgery had seen to that.   A long drool of saliva stretched from her mouth. And yet the stroking of the woman on her lower spine comforted her to.  Like they had in that bar that night. That seemed so long ago.  So very long ago.  She could barely remember her own name. Or that bar. She had been through so much. Her life changed so much.  Over and over in her head she had to keep reminding herself of her name. Her name. Her name.

“My name is Ella. Ella. Ella. My name is Ella……….”

Over and over in her head.  But it was fading.  All of her old life was fading. Her name hadn’t been used since she was taken from the bar that night. And it was just pain and pleasure that were important now. How she craved the pleasure. How she was addicted to it!

There were two doors at the end of that corridor. One on each side, either side of the mirror.  Ella’s wide, bulging, fixed eyes could not avert her own reflection in the mirror. Like a scene from a horror movie. Except this wasn’t a horror movie.  This was a bizarre surreal reality. The black painted doors were labelled with a single word each.  One was “PAIN” the other “PLEASURE”.  Simple words that only partly divulged what was behind each door. If only the words were that simple in the bigger scheme of things.  There was a greyness now. An uncertainty – what was pain? What was pleasure? She wasn’t sure. She knew the intense, pure pleasure she had become addicted to. How she lived and craved to feel the euphoric, washing waves of orgasm that she knew she had to earn.  She knew also the absolute, nerve deadening pain that had tormented her since she had met Marjory.  It wasn’t punishment.  Punishment indicated that she would have done something wrong, to deserve corrective treatment. Ella hadn’t done anything wrong. She was here and suffering because of her circumstances, and who she was. How she fitted the requirements of this older woman. There didn’t need to be an excuse or a reason for this torture to be inflicted. Apparently it was what she existed for. It was what ‘girls like her’ existed for.  Then there was the grey in between. Not pain. Not pleasure. But both.  It was this that brought her closer to the teetering brink of madness. But only 'nearly'. Never quite tipping over the edge. Always just kept this side of sanity so that she would know, and understand and appreciate what was happening to her.

“So…. Which is it to be honey?   Pain?   Pleasure?”

There was a chilling undertone of tease in Marjory’s voice.  Never mind what she was doing to another human being. Another woman.  The inhumanity of the situation. Finding ways to further torment the girl was a private little pleasure she was having with herself.  Of course, Ella could not speak. She could make only ‘noises’ like a retarded person would.  Her eyes trying to dart to the “PLEASURE” labelled door. Some grunting. Desperate grunting. A little mewing from deep. A thick drool of saliva down her chin and left to drip.  It was clear this was the door she wanted to go through.   The tail flicking desperately side to side as her insides did cartwheels at the thought of the PLEASURE room. When her eyes darted, tried to look at the “PAIN” label the noises were different. A different tone. A different pitch.  This was a squeal from within. Deep within. With deep, terrified intakes of air as she sucked through her facial bondage. Eyes bulging. Pure petrification. Long legs trembling. Heels shifting.  Tail almost drooping lifeless. She didn’t want to go through that door.

There was an evil, truly evil chuckle from the older woman before she hissed,

“Now now honey you KNOW it doesn’t work like that.  Pain, then pleasure. Its how it works. You know it.  But….. I am going to be good to you… just this once…..”

Marjory’s hand lightly stroking down over over Ella’s tummy. Just to where her smooth hairless crack started. Right to where there was a permanent glint of wetness. Slippery, mucousy wetness.  She stroked the slit slightly, with a mature, nobbled older finger. Hissed into Ella’s ear,

“Open your legs a little….. just a teeny, teeny bit of pleasure before we go for the pain…. Just a little though… and don’t you dare cum… do you understand?”

She continued to stroke as Ella’s tail twitched side to side and as she struggled with the

heels to walk her feet out, open her legs. Expose her slit a little more. Her eyes nodding where her head should have nodded save for her brace, and surgery.

“Good Girl…… Goooooood Girl.”

Marjory stroking the length of the slit. Then inserting the chubby finger slightly. A perfectly manicured red nail hooking inside, up to the clitoris hood. Ella making mewling noises. Breathing heavily, deep as the finger pushed deeper, then slipped behind the clit and pulled slightly almost gently popping out the clitoris.  The organ didn’t appear normal. It was large, blood engorged and appeared to be visibly ‘throbbing’ and hanging from a thin membrane of flesh. The result of prolonged, enforced attention in much the same manor as her nipples. The clitoris matched the blackness of her nipples and was starkly shocking in contrast to the wet, delicate pinkness of the rest of her sex.  Her labia was puffed, swollen and extended. But the hanging, blood heavy clitoris provided a heart stopping, gasping vision.

“Mmmmmmm uuuuhhhhhhhhh mmmmmmmm oooooohhhhhhhhh.”

The girls mewling was incoherent as Marjory took the clitoris between thumb and forefinger and gently manipulated it. Ella had learned to become genuinely grateful for these little acts of ‘kindness’ that her tormentress sometimes showed.  She knew, accepted that she would soon be in indescribable pain. And then later, an equally indescribable pleasure.

“mmmmm uhhhhhhhhgggggggg mmmmm aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

In the mean time this was just a little ‘treat’ for her. She watched herself in the mirror. Saw her tail in continuous swishing movements.  Watched Marjory rubbing and gently pressing her clitoris. Watched the trembling, nylon encased length of her legs, slightly bent at the knees. A slight squat. And the long drool of saliva from her mouth down over her breasts and tummy.  The intense waves of pleasure washing over her. Through her. Through her body and mind.

“Goooooood girl…… gooooooood girl………   now we must move on honey.”

The older woman’s use of the word honey was at odds to the way Ella was being treated. Deliberately so. As was the ‘treat’.  She called her Honey in that bar… all that time ago. Ella remembered that even if she couldn’t remember what the bar looked like. It was causing yet more conflict in the mind and with her sanity.   Marjory gently pushed the throbbing clitoris under its hood again, making it disappear. Folding it away under the hood. Then she wiped the slippery wetness from her finger, over the young girl’s ass before slapping it,

“ C R A C K “

The low guteral sound coming from Ella as she shuffled into the room marked PAIN was one of intense fear and terrible dread.  A frightened animal. An abused Pet. Inside the room, in stark contrast to the red blackness of the corridor, it was bleached white. Clinical white. It felt, and smelled clinically clean.  It ‘felt’ white. Walls, ceiling and floor whitewashed. The floor sloping gently inwards from the sides. In the middle a drainage cover.

Over the drainage cover what looked like a surgical operating table. A fully, even overly equipped operating table or gurney suitable for many, varied procedures to take place. Ella had been on this operating table. She had experienced an invasiveness that numbed her mind and caused so much pain that the reaction was to pass out. A passing out, an escape that she was never allowed to enjoy however, because always she was brought around to full conciousness so not to miss any of the spiralling nightmare.

There was a dentists chair too. It was while in this chair that the tiny electrical implants had been inserted deep into Ella’s roots. The same implants that when activated by micro waves would cause them to minutely vibrate and come into contact with the bare nerves of the roots causing excruciating, heart stopping pain. Pain that would make any sufferer wish they were somewhere else. Anywhere but in that place at that time experiencing that awful awful pain.

And a gynaecologists chair, with stirrups. It was in this chair that Ella’s cervix had been worked on after she had been fully opened, stretched and exposed. Delicately, carefully but creating the most terrible, deep, intimate, mind destroying pains. Pain that she wasn’t allowed to escape by blacking out. Pain that she was again, deliberately, expertly kept conscious through. All the way through. Like being kept awake through intrusive, invasive surgery. Always her life signs managed, and regulated expertly.

There were other things to. Things to cause torment. Tubes, catheters, inflatables to aid the control of bodily functions.  Enema equipment. Electric transformers and boxes with probes and inserts, the shape of which didn’t take much imagination to guess what they were for.  Rubber things – inflatable, without limits, which could be inserted and inflated inside the body. Various medical instruments and aids. A cabinet with a varied selection of drugs, and syringes.

This was a torture chamber but not a crude room where beatings were administered. Beatings could not produce the type of torture, pain and mental turmoil that Marjory could expertly produce.  The light, a single fluorescent strip in the dead middle of the ceiling was bright. First reaction was to squint the eyes when you went into the room.  But this light wasn’t the only source of light.

There was also a window. A big window that could be seen out of with ease. Looking out over a leafy garden. A serene garden where squirrels and rabbits ran. About twenty meters away a line of big trees. Big trees but with gaps between them. The road could be seen. Passing cars, buses, people. Old men walking dogs. Young moms taking their children to the nearby school. Older children making their own way to and from school. Scenes from the ‘normal’ world.  A world that Ella would never be part of again. But scenes that would make her teeter on edge just that little bit more.  They were only scenes though. No sounds. The armour glass, thick, soundproofed didn’t allow sounds to filter in.  Neither could anyone outside see or hear through the mirrored glass. From the road it looked like ordinary glass. An ordinary room in an ordinary house. It was far from that.  The inhuman sounds that Ella had been making became a deep, soul searching sobbing from deep inside her tummy. Her insides gripped the inflated rubber tube that was attached to the tail making the red brown haired tail swish back and forth between her legs.

The door marked “PAIN” slammed shut. Electronically locked! At the end of the corridor strangely illuminated in that red glow from the hanging lights was Walter. He looked even more strangely 'human'.  That is, in the comparative sense of the word. There was still the stoop. Still the ape-like stance. Except that he was garbed in a full heavy latex 'pinny'. Black latex, almost one like a mortuary attendant would wear. Or a coroner about to carry out a post-mortem. Walter's pale but huge and hairless arms were also garbed in latex. Tight latex gloves that clung to her entire lower arms, to just below the elbows.  He also wore the body, head and face harness still to.  At first he just stood there looking, watching Ella make her way to the other end. His head tilted, almost in animal like puzzlement. And then he made his way down that same corridor, almost dragging his latex covered arms behind himself. At least that was the impression one would get from his stance.  He waited. Waited until that door clicked shut and then he made his way down. One foot slightly dragging. When he got to the door that Ella and Marjory had gone through, he turned faced it and then just knocked ever so gently on it. The gentleness of the knock quite belying his beast, manboy like appearance.  The door opened and he slid through it almost silently. Just the slightest creak of the latex pinny. Then the click of the door locking and the hiss of it sealing, just as the front door had done all that time ago.

The End.... of the beginning

Ella will return in “Horrotica 2 Ella Pet”