The card was embossed with burnished silver and came without a date, location, or an explanation of what "wet messy fun" was. But of course if you received a Dark Encounter’s invitation you already knew those details.
On the back of the card was a photograph of what appeared to be an odd little toy and the caption;
"Can you handle the Crawler?"
And under that in fine print;
"Odds of survival - 88%"
I shivered a bit as my imagination went wild wondering what the Crawler was, what it crawled through, and how large it was.
As I was musing, I heard Craig’s Mercedes crunching its way up the drive to the front door. I walked to the kitchen and pinned the card on the fridge door with a magnet, knowing that was the first place he always goes.
"Hi Paige." he called as he came through the front door, casting off his suit jacket, tie, and briefcase on the chair beside his home office, tossed his keys in the hand-thrown bowl from Wales, and kicked off his shoes by the rack in the hall closet.
"How was your day?" I asked as I sat down at the marble topped island in the kitchen and poured myself a healthy glass of Pino Gris. Craig walked in and opened the fridge for a Heineken.
Sound like a happy little upwardly mobile husband and wife living on the edge of luxury? We’re not. Craig is a "forever bachelor" Congressman and I am his Communication Director. I’m also his on again, off again mistress/human sex-toy and have been for three years and five months. Quite a long time for a Washington affair, but Craig has unique sexual tastes and so do I, so we fit well in that regard and in our business relationship, but I have a separate suite on the opposite side of the house and have my own brownstone in Washington. Our sexual tastes? I like some pain and domination and he likes giving it.
"When did this get here?" Craig asked, pulling the Dark Encounter’s invite off the fridge.
"It just came." I answered.
"Wet and messy." Craig smiled, still looking at the card, "Sounds like something we both might like."
He looked up into my eyes; "Want to go?"
A date? No, I shouldn’t get my hopes up, so I shrugged; "Curious about the Crawler thing."
"Let’s find out." Craig said, setting the card on the counter and taking my hand, leading me to his home office.
Dark Encounters maintains a darknet website that only members can log onto using a new encryption code assigned each month. Craig typed in the URL and entered his encryption code and the front page appeared. The Spring Festival link was right on top … Full day of activities and entertainment… guests are reminded to bring at least one change of clothes… waivers are mandatory… blah-blah-blah. But at the bottom was a link to the Crawler page. Craig clicked on it.
Turns out the Crawler is eight inches long, an inch and three quarters in girth, and is designed to transit the human digestive tract from end to end. "A slow, and usually survivable impalement." the copy read.
Impalement, oh my.
Guests are invited to volunteer to "take" the Crawler during the afternoon and were guaranteed ten hours of intense sensory experience. The Crawler is inserted rectally and expelled through the mouth approximately ten hours later. There was a disclaimer that if a guest was in distress, Dark Encounter’s medical staff would be on hand to either sedate them until it completed its journey or to remove it surgically if the volunteer was in mortal danger.
I was feeling a warmth and moisture in the crotch of my panties just reading the copy.
"There are videos at the bottom." I pointed and Craig clicked on the one titled; "THE CRAWLER".
It showed a Crawler laying inactive on a white towel. A hand appeared holding a remote, aimed it at the Crawler and pushed a button. Craig and I watched intently as the Crawler began to move, undulating itself forward like a snake, reaching out with sharp articulated stainless steel legs on its underbelly to pull itself along. But suddenly its behaviour changed; it coiled and uncoiled; spun, corkscrewed, then rolled itself into a ball, vibrating with enough intensity that it was bouncing around on the cloth. Then it quieted, straightened itself out and began undulating forward once more.
"Holy shit." Craig whispered.
"Yeah." was all I could manage.
Craig clicked on the next video titled, "VOLUNTEER ONE".
It started by showing one of the contracted Dark Encounter girls bent over a park bench with her bikini bottoms down and a man lubricating her anus and inserting a Crawler.
After she stood up she smiled for the camera as the man pressed a remote against her lower belly and activated the Crawler inside her.
The look on the girl’s face turned to pure lust as her eyelids drooped and her mouth opened. The video faded to black and the caption; "THREE HOURS LATER" appeared.
The next scene showed the girl on the ground, masturbating furiously. Her bikini bottoms are tangled around her thighs and she was working herself hard. Then right in the middle of an orgasm, she rolled onto her side and tried to curl into a ball, her belly convulsing rhythmically as she strained and vomited weakly. A caption appeared under her; "As the Crawler transited her Transverse and Ascending colon, in the next hour and a half Megan experienced one hundred and thirteen orgasms." Then; "This was Megan’s second Crawler experience. Since that day she has taken it seven more times."
I was breathing hard by then, the crotch of my panties a slimy mess.
"Click the next one." I said breathlessly, gulping down the rest of my wine.
The next video began with a caption; "The most intensive phase of the Crawler’s journey is when it enters the stomach and makes its way to the gullet. Volunteers should find vomiting a sexual experience."
The video showed a girl vomiting copiously on the grass as her belly heaved violently. Between heaves, the girl would drink quickly from a bottle of juice, only to bring it back up.
After a few moments, the girl suddenly appeared to panic and started thrashing around frantically. Three men entered the scene and pinned her in a sitting position - one man on each of her arms and the third sitting on her legs.
Another caption appeared; "We are showing the extraction of the Crawler as full disclosure so any volunteers will appreciate the full experience the Crawler brings."
As the girl fought the men, she continued to dry heave until a dark grey object appeared in her mouth. One of the men reached in and pulled it out, the Crawler still undulating and twisting in his hand. The girl turned toward one of the men and buried her face against his chest, gasping and sobbing.
The final caption; "This video documents Nella’s first Crawler experience. Since that day she has taken it four more times."
"Fuck." I gasped as Craig clicked on the registration link. The page appeared and of the twenty-five slots, twelve were already filled with volunteer’s names.
Craig looked up at me and stroked my thigh.
"You’re a fan of regurgitation." he smiled, "You up for it?"
Craig was right, I was big on regurgitation - I was one of the millions of girls who dated boys exposed to online porn videos of ‘messy blowjobs’, and as a young teen, I thought it was expected of me and a normal part of a healthy sex life. Over time I got used to it. In my early days, I got satisfaction from the pleasure the boys whose cocks I puked on got from it. But over time I learned to enjoy it both physically and emotionally - I loved being a dirty girl. And now, in my twenties, I find puking on a cock to be the closest thing to an orgasm without actually having one.
The other thing was, I found myself immensely aroused by watching those two girls experiencing something that overwhelming.
"Sign me up." I said and shuddered, "Then I need more wine and a good throat fuck. I have to practice."
Dark Encounter’s mansion sits on a hill, surrounded by both groomed lawns and gardens, and semi-wild grass and woodlands. The entire estate is protected by high electric fences that run between rows of Pyramid Cedars to camouflage the tight security. What happens at Dark Encounters needs to be secret - people die here every weekend.
I won’t go on about the luxuriousness of the mansion itself - If you’ve read the other Dark Encounters stories on this darkweb anthology, you already know it well. Besides, we weren’t based out of the grand ballroom, or even the main wing. Because of the nature of the activities at the Spring Festival, we were assigned to the East Wing - all hardwood floors and tile. Let’s face it, celebrating ‘wet and messy’ was going to require mopping up gallons of vomit, piss, blood, and maybe shit.
The other thing was the guests for the Spring Festival weren’t A-list members. Even as a US Congressman, Craig was B-list and was tolerated by the A-list royalty at the Annual Orgy, but there were many Dark Encounters events that were so horrific that we only heard about them in the form of gossip and rumours. As for me? I wasn’t even B-list - I was simply a tag-a-long who had to provide some form of entertainment to even be accepted as a B-list ‘plus one’.
As soon as we approached the mansion in the crisp morning air, one of the Hosts, Adam, approached us.
"Hello Congressman." Adam shook Craig’s hand, then turned to me, "And you must be the lovely Paige."
"Aww, yes, I am, and thank you." I answered, putting on my best charm as I shook his hand.
"My name is Adam, I’m the Host who coordinates the insertions." said Adam. "If you see me or any of our Hosts we will answer any of your questions or offer any assistance. And our Dark Encounters’ girls will see to your basic comfort."
"Will Megan and Nella be present today? I’d love to talk to them." I asked.
"No, they won’t." Adam answered, his manner growing solemn, "Nella is away for her year of pampering, and unfortunately, Megan passed away."
"In a show?" I asked, hoping she went out the way she chose to.
Adam shook his head, "No, she died taking a Crawler. She’d volunteered for her fifteenth time at a private show. She died during the expulsion and couldn’t be revived. Our physician labeled it heart failure from respiratory distress. She… choked to death."
The silence was more than awkward.
"We believe in full disclosure to all our volunteers." Adam said, "Taking the Crawler is both intensely pleasurable and somewhat dangerous. Three of our girls have died during the experience. We understand if you wish to change your mind. We do have a waiting list."
I could feel the heat in my face as I flushed, considering I might die today, but at the same time the pull in my lower belly grew stronger at the thought.
"No, I will still be doing it." I stated, squeezing Craig’s arm with my own, wanting to share this experience with him.
"Very well, and thank you, Paige." Adam smiled, "We are inserting the Crawlers in our volunteers every fifteen minutes, that way at any given time we will have volunteers at various stages for the entertainment of our guests. I will come to escort you to the medical room when it’s your turn. In the meantime, enjoy the festivities."
"How do we know who has a Crawler inside them?" Craig asked, "Is there a wristband or something?"
"No, Congressman." Adam smiled, "That’s part of the fun - not knowing until their reactions give it away."
We left Adam then and entered the East Wing dining room where they were serving brunch. Remembering the instructions I received once I was registered for the Crawler, I only ate a fruit salad with a yoghurt topping. And I started drinking a special champagne that had a low alcohol content.
One of the necessities of taking a Crawler was to drink copious amounts of liquids during the day - they needed fluids to act as lubricant. I dug into my fruit salad with gusto as Craig struck up a conversation with a black haired girl named Jolene. She was quite tall and lean and wore a red plaid mini with a bikini style top. I barely paid attention to their conversation as I was starving - for the past 24 hours I had to fast, plus last night had to purge my bowels with an entire bottle of liquid magnesium citrate and get up early to take some cleansing enemas.
As I finished my salad, and snuck one of Craig’s toast points, Jolene suddenly gasped and quivered. She appeared to be in distress, and at first I thought she might be choking, because she rose quickly, but then had to support herself by gripping the table.
I figured out what was going on when she whimpered and lost control of her bladder right there in the dining room.
"The Crawler?" I asked.
Jolene nodded and pushed her thighs against the table to balance herself and lifted her skirt to reveal her lower belly. We could see the thing - it was squirming and vibrating inside her so violently we could see her belly bulging and jiggling.
Jolene forced a smile, but I could see she was embarrassed and in distress.
"What do you need, Jolene?" I asked, touching her left hand as her body started to convulse.
"… to cum…" she gasped, so Craig and I helped her sit and supported her as she shuddered and gasped, her thighs squeezed tight together. As soon as her first orgasm started to fade, another gripped her abdomen tightly and she curled hard and fast - Craig barely had time to prevent her face from slamming into the table.
"Let’s get her on the floor." Craig said, so we slid the convulsing Jolene off her chair and lowered her to the floor where she curled into a ball and continued to quiver and strain in orgasm. A crowd had gathered around us as other diners left their tables to watch the spectacle.
"Paige?" I heard Adam’s voice and felt him touch my shoulder. I turned and looked up into his smiling face.
"It’s time for your insertion." he said.
What the fuck had I got myself into?
The insertion of the dormant Crawler into my rectum was slightly uncomfortable, but not painful in the least. My first impression was how long it was, but with the thick end going in first, and the tapered tail following, once we got past the thick part it nestled nicely inside me.
Instead of laying back in the gyno chair, I’d chosen to just bend over it and let Doctor T peel down my panties, lube my rectum with an injector, and push the robotic bug into my bowels. When she was done, she pulled up my panties, lowered my short skirt and patted my bum.
"You’re good, Paige." she said, "How was the insertion?"
"Okay." I said, rising and straightening my clothing, "What happens next?"
"The Crawler is programmed to start slow and work its way up through the rectum and into the Sigmoid colon once it’s activated. You’ll mostly feel pleasure during that transit." Doctor T explained, "Then it will follow the Sigmoid across and down to the mouth of the Descending colon, that’s the point you’ll start to feel some intensity because by then your bowels will be in full peristalsis, trying to push the Crawler back out. But the more resistance it detects, the more force it will use."
"On the video, the Crawler would sometimes go nuts - squirming, lashing its tail, curling in a ball and vibrating." I said, "What’s that all about?"
Doctor T chuckled, "Those episodes are purely random and the fruit of one very twisted designer. Depending where the Crawler is, those frantic movements will either give you a mind-blowing orgasm or make you puke violently. Our test girls dubbed it the Crawler Dance."
"Here." Doctor T reached for a remote and pressed it lightly against my lower belly. I instantly felt movement inside me - a slow squirming in my rectum.
"Oh my." I breathed.
"Feel good?" Doctor T’s eyes were twinkling as she looked up at me.
"Hell yeah." I almost purred.
"Okay." Doctor T put the remote down, and began touching parts of my abdomen as she spoke; "Right here is where the Sigmoid connects to the Descending colon - there’s a sphincter there that may tighten and if the Crawler has to fight its way through you may feel some strong nausea."
"If you like a bit of pain it will add to the experience. Besides, it will trigger a continual flow of endorphins, plus you’ll most likely be exhausted by then and the combination usually sends girls into an orgasmic stupor - half awake, half asleep and experiencing rolling orgasms. When you get there, find yourself a quiet little spot to lie down and masturbate between naps." Doctor T and I both laughed, but I had been feeling a new sensation as she had mapped out the Crawler’s journey.
"Um … question?"
"Yes?"
"It feels like it’s getting hot. Is that normal?" I asked, laying a hand on my lower belly.
"Yes it is." Doctor T explained. "It’s the battery. Latest technology out of Japan - guaranteed to power the Crawler for twelve hours, but the by-product is heat. Don’t worry, it’s not harmful."
I smiled; "Thanks."
"So, you know the rules?" Doctor T asked as she finished filling out my documentation.
I ticked them off on my fingers;
"No heavy meals - stick to moist, soft foods. Drink lots of fluids and drink continually, as much as I can stand. And don’t be self-conscious about people watching me as I lose control - Dark Encounters’ members pay to be here and be able to watch anything that happens on the property."
"Right from the brochure." Doctor T smiled and rose, laying her hand on my shoulder and guiding me toward the door, "You’re going to do fine, Paige. My best advice? Surrender and enjoy everything that happens to you today."
As I exited, the next volunteer was arriving and we exchanged knowing smiles.
Walking back toward the dining room, I began to feel a little weak in the legs and my hip joints started to feel unstable - the Crawler was wriggling inside me, weaving through my rectal valves on the way to my Sigmoid. So far this thing felt wonderful.
As I passed a stairway, I heard a female voice moaning and straining. Looking up I saw a girl who had already lost her pants and was struggling to climb the stairs, piss streaming down her inner thighs. She looked pretty far gone sexually.
How long before that was me?
Craig wasn’t in the dining room when I got back, but I found him pretty quickly in one of the lounge rooms. I knelt on the floor in front of him.
"How was it?" he asked, sharing his attention between me and Jolene with her red plaid skirt hiked up, masturbating on a nearby sofa.
"It was good." I said, "And it feels good - kind of like someone is wriggling their fingers inside me, but getting deeper and deeper."
"Have you cum yet?"
"No, but I’m close." I admitted to him and to myself I had to admit that I was jealous that Craig was paying more attention to Jolene than me. I was sort of his date after-all, but I knew the nature of our relationship - professionals that have fuck-buddy status. I always hope for too much.
Suddenly a strong pulling cramp in my lower belly made me grunt. I curled forward, almost rolling onto my side into the fetal position. It was the crawler, pulling itself out of my Sigmoid colon through the sphincter into my descending colon.
I managed to lift myself back up by bracing my hands against my thighs as the Crawler wriggled and vibrated inside me. It felt so invasive, ten times more invasive than the insertion. A strong wave of nausea rolled through my belly and my mouth started to water. I dry-heaved, but at the same time I could feel an orgasm coming on fast.
Do I puke or cum? Or both?
I decided to let my body decide and relaxed my abdominal muscles. My orgasm rose high and fast and my stomach churned in my belly. I was cumming and dry-heaving simultaneously, my mouth watering and my pussy making a mess in my panties - drool and grool at the same time. Girls are such slimy creatures when we are sexual - at least this girl is.
My orgasm lasted a lot longer than normal mainly due to the Crawler’s relentless wriggling to get through the Sigmoid sphincter, but at last it tapered back down to regular arousal and left me with the persistent nausea.
I looked up and saw that Craig was watching me.
"Was it good?" he asked with an almost cold curiosity. I got the feeling that he wanted me to go away so he could fuck the plaid girl.
"Uh-huh. But I think I’m going to puke." I answered, feeling shaky.
"Then you should go do that." Craig said coldly and turned to watch Jolene.
Then I knew Craig wanted me gone, so I struggled to get my shaky legs under me - Thanks for offering to help, asshole - and staggered down the hallway, holding my belly in my hands.
I felt like a drunk woman in labour, but I got smiles from the men and women I passed. One older woman in an evening gown stroked my bare arm.
"You’re so brave, child." she said warmly, "I hope to see you again later."
"Thank you." I answered and hated that my voice sounded so weak, but the Crawler was still working hard inside me and was sucking the strength from my body. The attention from the lady and all the others made me blush - I was starting to feel helpless, and getting attention when I’m helpless makes me feel ashamed - unless it was just me and Craig.
When I finally arrived at the door marked "WC" - the last few feet by sliding down the wall to steady myself - I pushed the door open not noticing the door handle and deadbolt. It was a single bathroom with a toilet, sink, and a small bench, and there already was a woman occupying it. She was a brunette with her hair in a crooked ponytail on her knees in front of the toilet. The room smelled of puke.
"… m’sorry…" I gasped, feeling my stomach starting to tighten into a hard ball. I turned to leave.
"It’s alright, sweetheart." she said, sounding breathless herself, "I left it unlocked for a reason."
Not able to reply, I staggered forward and caught myself by gripping the edge of the bathroom counter and puked explosively, getting most of it in the sink.
"And that’s the reason." she said as I gasped for air in preparation for the next heave - and it came, as strong as the first one. I heaved liquid three more times before I felt my now empty stomach cramp on itself. And that’s when my Crawler decided to do its crazy dance in my lower belly.
I remember crying out. I remember the impact on my bum as I hit the floor. And I have a vague memory of curling in a ball, grunting and straining my way through the torment of the Crawler dancing in my bowels and the hot ecstatic waves of orgasm gripping me.
I thought the wriggling of the Crawler moving through my Sigmoid sphincter was intense, but feeling it do its wild dance inside me made me doubt I could survive the rest of the day. I felt it coil and uncoil, wriggle violently as it dug its sharp feet into the tender flesh of my bowels. I felt it curl itself into a hard ball and vibrate like a jackhammer inside me, sending my g-spot into orgasmic pulses that gripped my lower belly like a vice. My memory of those moments were dry-heaving my way through orgasms that refused to stop.
I think I finally passed out, because I slowly became aware of the cool tiles of the bathroom on my cheek and my Crawler playing nice inside me once more, playfully - and gently - wriggling its way up my Descending colon. I whimpered, feeling washed out and weak.
"Was that your first dance?" the brunette woman asked. She was still there, sitting on the floor beside the toilet, eating from a plate stacked with pastries and cakes and washing them down with small sips of water. She’d hiked her dress up under her armpits, revealing her bloated belly.
"We’re supposed to have moist soft food." I said stupidly. The woman chuckled.
"That’s for rookies." she said and continued to eat, "I like to really feel it when I puke. So, that was the Sigmoid sphincter?"
"Yeah." I murmured, trying to pull myself out of the swamp of exhaustion I’d found myself in, "How did you know?"
"You still looked pretty fresh." she said and gave me an impish smile, "It gets better … more intense."
She ran a finger across her upper belly.
"I’m Transverse right now - lots of dances and lots of puke."
I scooted myself over to the wall and sat up. The first thing I noticed was a cold wetness between my thighs. I looked down and saw the yellow puddle where I’d fallen. I’d pissed myself.
"Oh shit." I swore and felt the tears welling in my eyes.
"Don’t cry." the woman said, "We all piss and puke and if these Crawlers didn’t act like plugs, we’d be shitting ourselves too."
"Here’s the thing," the woman said, grimacing, then setting down her plate and climbing back onto her knees, "It’s like you rushing in here to the bathroom to puke for the first time. It won’t be long before we all just puke or piss or cum wherever we are, not caring who watches. We can do things at Dark Encounters that we can’t do anywhere else, and everyone is here for one of two reasons; they crave intense experiences up to and including death, or they like to watch people experiencing them. Now if you’ll excuse me for a moment, my sweet little Crawler is starting another dance."
And she began to heave, then vomit, into the toilet, her belly undulating, and the crotch of her panties soaking through, a yellow puddle forming between her open thighs.
I became very aware that the air in the room was humid and thick with the smells of puke, piss, and over-aroused pussy as I sat and watched her dancing with her Crawler. At times the cramps got so bad she would lift one of her knees off the floor, and more than once I saw a little squirt of pee. Even though her belly was plump and bloated, her breasts sagging, and she was not a woman anyone would call alluring, there was a sensual beauty to her that drew me. I wanted to touch her, to hold her, to press my belly against hers and for us both to dance with our Crawlers and experience this intense blend of torment and ecstasy.
As she continued to heave and shudder, I luxuriated in the peace within my body after my recent sexual storm and as I stroked my own belly I discovered that it was swollen also. Below my belly button my usually flat abdominals were now stretched from swelling inside me - my vagina, uterus, and bowels were no doubt engorged from over-arousal.
Pressing in felt good - like promising-me-an-orgasm good, so I did - pressing in with my left hand and hoisting my skirt to massage my clit through my panties with the fingertips of my right. It didn’t take long - within a dozen seconds my hips were humping my crotch upward and I was grunting through a tight little orgasm as I watched my new friend puking up an amazing amount of pastries.
Once her Crawler ended his dance and she recovered, we introduced ourselves. Her name was Anne.
She told me that she had been coming to Dark Encounters for over a decade and was contemplating one day volunteering at the Annual Orgy - not as a contracted girl, but as a member wanting to go out.
"You want to die here?" I asked.
"Of course. Where better?" she answered as she ate the last of her pastries. "You get to die the way you want and they guarantee ecstasy. Admit it; having that bug do his wild dance inside you was the most intense thing you’ve ever felt, right?"
"Umm…" I couldn’t hold back the laughter, "Yeah, it was. And the anticipation of the next one both terrifies me and makes me creamy."
"So imagine dying right in the middle of that - not giving a shit about anything. Just dying in ecstasy without any fear or regrets, maybe impaled, or hanged, or with your belly cut open. I think that if you die during an orgasm it feels like years."
I was silenced by the realization that what she said sounded tempting. Would I come back here one day? I knew I was young enough and attractive enough to volunteer to be a Dark Encounters’ girl; one year working in the mansion, fluffing those who were going to die; mopping up blood, puke, cum, and shit, then getting an all-expenses-paid year of pampering in exchange for an erotic death as entertainment for the members.
"Well, Paige." Anne said, climbing to her feet and lowering her dress, "I’ve loved meeting you, and I’ve loved chatting, but you need fluids, and I need more pastries."
I wall climbed to my feet and reached out for a hug. It was odd behaviour for me, but I felt a bond with her and maybe she did too because she wrapped her arms around me without hesitation. As we embraced, she whispered; "Next dance, surrender to it and cum like no one is watching."
"I will."
"And look me up, I’d like to get together for lunch one day - see if we can be friends outside of this place." Anne said as we broke our embrace, "Besides, you need to move on from Congressman Craig."
I was puzzled and Anne laughed.
"I’m Senator Anne Michaels, Colorado." she said.
I could feel the heat in my face as I blushed deeply.
"Senator, I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you."
Anne laughed; "Honey, I was on my knees in my panties, puking up lemon cakes and brownies and cumming like a two dollar whore. I should hope you didn’t recognize me."
She leaned in and kissed me on the lips just a little too long and ran the flat of her hand down my belly.
"Call me, I’m in the book." she said as she opened the bathroom door then looked back, "I mean it. Call me… please?"
"I will." I answered, then she was gone. And I stood for a moment as my Crawler wriggled his way up the left side of my belly, feeling like I was falling in love. Not with the Crawler - I really liked him, but the thought of Anne was making me feel light and dreamy. I’d been a sexual fence-sitter since college, and the male route hadn’t paid out - maybe the female route would.
I was able to walk steady all the way back to the dining room, picking up two magnums of low-alcohol champagne. I tucked one under my arm and opened the second on my way to the lounge.
Craig was there. He was fucking Jolene on the sofa as she held her thighs high and wide for him. She whimpered and shuddered, holding her lower belly.
"Lift your skirt up." Craig said to her, "I want to watch it move inside you."
Jolene did, pulling the hem of her plaid skirt up between her breasts, her lower belly undulating as her Crawler worked inside her.
It was a slow sensual fuck, not like the frantic, violent sex Craig and I engage in. I stood and watched for a time, not to torment myself with jealousy, but to watch Jolene’s belly.
Her Crawler was near the bottom of her Ascending colon and I could actually see it bulging her belly as she let Craig fuck her.
Deciding to stay for a bit, I sat on the arm of the chair Craig was sitting in when I returned from my insertion, I was so close I could reach out and touch her if I wanted.
She was whimpering and gasping as the Crawler undulated beneath the surface of her belly and Craig slid his cock in and out of her. I could smell her and her odours told the story of her recent experiences. I could smell piss and the sickly sweet smell of ass; the strong odour of her pussy; and the stale sweat smell of her exertions; the skunky armpit smell of fear sweat; and when she breathed I could smell the sour reek of puke. I couldn’t think badly of her - she too had been overwhelmed by the insertion and her dances with her Crawler. Like me and Anne and all the other girls, she had been a spectacle for members like Craig, and now Craig was using her to be able to brag that he fucked the cheerleader while she had a Crawler in her belly.
"Oh god, baby." Craig moaned, "I can feel it moving inside you."
Baby. A sure sign he’d already forgotten her name.
Jolene gasped, shuddered, and arched her back, then settled back down.
"… it’s going to dance again…" she gasped "… soon…"
And under the soft skin and thin muscles of her belly I could see the Crawler start moving faster, undulating as it transited the last inches to the bottom of her Ascending colon and into her Cecum, then began to wriggle and claw her Ileocecal valve open. Jolene made fists and clenched her teeth, then let out a long squeal. Craig, the selfish bastard, gripped her thighs and pushed himself deep so he could feel the storm that was about to break in her body.
"… mama!" Jolene shrieked as she arched her back and lost control. She farted, she pissed, and she dry-heaved violently.
I stood up and walked away toward the open air. I wanted to give her some privacy, even though her squeal had brought members in from the other rooms. Plus I just needed some peace before my own Crawler danced inside me once more. I chugged the champagne straight from the bottle as I went.
The gardens were peaceful and my Crawler and I enjoyed each other’s company. There were times when I had to stop and sit on a park bench as he wriggled a little more energetically trying to reach my Transverse colon. Four times I had sweet, belly-cramping orgasms, twice though I had to run and hide to puke up when the cramps got too wild. Once I found an unoccupied gazebo, but the second time I had to squat behind a hedge to puke and shudder. I just couldn’t bring myself to let people watch me lose control like that. I knew that once my Crawler was inside my Transverse and danced there, that I was in for another thigh quivering explosion of uncontrolled orgasm, puking, and pissing. I was searching for a hidden place to do that, but members were everywhere. I needed a place to hide - a private place that I could be for the hour and a bit that my Crawler needed to find my small intestine so I could surrender quietly like Anne told me, but wasn’t having any luck.
I kept my eyes out for Anne as I moved from bench to bench on my orgasm filled walk, but she was nowhere to be seen.
It was around the east side of the mansion that I saw a large group of people gathered, encircling a woman laying on a beach towel. It was normal to see gatherings like this, but not so many members at once. I saw that the Host, Adam was among them.
The woman was blond, probably in her mid to late forties, well dressed, and laying on her side with her face almost touching the grass. She was vomiting in slow pulses and masturbating - her right hand tight to her crotch and four of her fingers wedged tight inside herself. She would gasp wetly for air between each heave. She did not appear to be in any distress and seemed to be a state of bliss, experiencing rolling orgasms.
I sidled up to Adam.
"Is she okay?" I whispered.
"Hello Paige. Yes, she’s fine. She was the first insertion today and her Crawler is inside her stomach. She’ll be the first guest to complete ass to mouth." he explained, "That’s why the members are here watching - everyone wants to see an expulsion."
I looked around at the gathered crowd, their hungry eyes fixed on the woman at their feet, taking pleasure from her loss of control. Each aroused by her debasement - her orgasms and uncontrollable vomiting being the bondage that kept her there, captive to their voyeurism.
I suppose the saving grace for her was that she didn’t appear aware of the crowd that had gathered round her. Or maybe she didn’t care.
We watched the blond woman for a few seconds and as we watched I felt my Crawler up high on my left side under my ribcage - he was almost there, I didn’t have much time.
"Do you know Anne? The Senator?" I asked him, my voice quavering slightly. He smiled.
"Yes, I do, Paige."
"Is she still here?"
"Yes."
The silence hung in the air along with my unasked questions.
"If you see her…" I said, then I faltered, I felt my belly cramp and knew my Crawler was squeezing into my Transverse colon. All hell was going to break loose inside me.
"… nevermind." I whimpered and hurried away toward the mansion, almost dropping my champagne.
I was desperate to find a private place, away from prying eyes, but as luck would have it, my Crawler wriggled itself deeper into my Transverse colon as I was walking through the garden, and my legs started to feel weak, my hips disjointed. I needed to find somewhere private to sit or lay down or I was going to fall down.
I looked around frantically and saw the gazebo I threw up in on my walk, and ran toward it, weaving, and staggering, praying it was still unoccupied.
It was. I rushed in and threw myself onto the same bench I’d sat on before as I orgasmed and puked. Pulling my skirt up to my hips, I lowered my head and spread my knees and feet wide as my Crawler wriggled toward the centre of my upper belly.
As I started to vomit, my orgasm built quickly and soon I was cumming in rhythmic pulses and heaving almost continuously.
I don’t know how long it lasted, but near the end of it all I felt my stomach spasm tight and I knew it was drained. I expected to stop heaving then, but instead it convulsed hard - harder than ever before. And at the same time my entire belly clenched tight, my orgasm skyrocketing. My back arched, my legs lifted up, my toes curled in my boots and I slipped my hands inside my vest and pinched my nipples hard. I was shaking violently and it felt like this sexual seizure was gripping me so tight it would never let go.
I was scared - no, I was terrified at the power of this orgasm. I tried to scream for help, but my gullet was seized. At its peak I felt my pussy and anus gape and I farted wetly, then my orgasm suddenly released me and I slammed back against the bench and fell to my side, sliding off the bench and into the puddle of my sicked-up champagne.
I lay gasping long enough to catch my breath, then struggled my way up and back onto the bench. The crotch of my panties felt slimier than they’d felt all day, so I lifted my bum and hooked my thumbs into the waist and peeled them down my thighs.
As I thought - the crotch of my panties was a mess; crusted grool and fresh grool in the front, and a gelatinous clot of beige mucus smeared in the back. I knew that the large intestine secretes mucus, and I also knew if I hadn’t followed Dark Encounters’ instructions about strong laxatives last evening and cleansing enemas on rising this morning, I would have shit myself.
I felt hopeless and lost. Here I was in a gazebo, a complete mess with no one to help me - no one to wrap a blanket around me and take me somewhere private to clean up. I’d never felt so alone.
The tears came fast and hot, and I sat in the gazebo sobbing, with my horror-show panties still looped around my legs just above my knees.
I wasn’t aware that anyone had entered the gazebo until I felt arms slide around my shoulders. At first I thought it was Craig coming to finally share my experience like we’d planned, but the arms were too soft.
"I thought I told you not to cry." Anne’s calm, soothing voice was soft and so comforting. I leaned into her and closed my eyes, letting my tears continue to fall, "Adam told me you were looking for me."
"I’m sorry…" I whimpered, and when I heard my voice I wondered which was the real Paige - the confident Communications Director, or the lost little girl I felt like in that moment.
"Why are you sorry, Paige?" Anne was stroking my arms now.
"I’m a mess." I sobbed, "I stink, my clothes are wet with piss and puke, and I just shit myself."
"Oh, honey. We’re all a mess." Anne soothed me, "Every woman who has a Crawler inside them is a mess, including me. The only difference is, you still think it matters."
"Doesn’t it?" I lashed out, my face hot and wet with tears, "I want to be touched. I want to be held."
"I’m holding you."
"Alright! I want to be fucked! Okay?" I cried out at her in anger, then broke down into racking sobs, "Who wants to fuck me when I’m a mess? Craig didn’t. He fucked a cheerleader instead." and the last word came out in a weak wail.
Yes, I’d officially lost my shit and had a sobbing little pity party because my date ditched me. Anne let me cry it out for a few moments, then;
"Paige?"
I was still breathing in that jerky, four-year-old-having-a-meltdown sort of way.
"Paige, honey?" and she lifted my chin slowly with a knuckle, until our lips were close, "I want to fuck you … just the way you are."
I searched her deep brown eyes for avarice and all I saw was caring and tenderness. I closed my eyes as her lips covered mine and I could taste the sour puke in her warm wet mouth and I didn’t care. We kissed each other with a perverse hunger as she pushed me onto my back on the bench, unbuttoning my vest top as she did. Suddenly her lips kissed their down over my chin and throat and found my nipples which she sucked and tongue-flicked while she pulled my ruined panties down my legs, leaving them hanging from my left ankle.
Then she was up, her full belly pressing against my naked crotch, grinding against me.
"I wanted you since you danced with your Crawler in the bathroom." Anne said breathlessly, "I loved your wild abandon - you were lost in it. I loved it when you pissed yourself. And I loved how you watched me and masturbated."
"I wanted to hold you while you were puking, it was so real, so natural." I whispered, "You’re so real - I envy that."
"I want to show you something." she gasped, "Where is your Crawler?"
My hand was shaking as I took hers and moved it to the lump below my sternum.
"Perfect." she smiled down at me and started to massage deep, making circles around my Crawler lump, palpating my belly, "I figured out that when they find an obstruction they can’t squeeze through, they dance to loosen it."
Then she pressed deep with her fingertips, trapping my Crawler. At first it just wriggled like it usually does. Then I gasped at the sharp little pains as it tried using its little pointed feet to push itself forward. Then it went still. I lay there panting, gazing up into Anne’s smiling face, waiting … waiting … Then I felt it;
"Oh fuck, it’s curling!" I gasped.
Anne let go of my belly and slid her hand down between my thighs where my slimy pussy swallowed four of her fingers without any effort. Then my Crawler went nuts inside me - coiling, uncoiling, vibrating and bouncing. As I cramped and gagged hard, Anne slid her hand behind my head and pulled my face to her breasts as she finger-fucked me with passion.
I screamed in those short places where I could breathe, cumming, and heaving, cramping, and cumming more as Anne held me tight to her, fucking me like no one ever had before.
It went on seemingly forever, until darkness filled the gazebo and I got lost in a sexual delirium. But the darkness was my own, because I realized that my belly had calmed and my eyes fluttered open to sunlight flickering through the new spring leaves around the gazebo. Anne’s fingers were gone from my pussy and were now gently massaging my mound, and her lips suckled my left nipple.
She lifted her head and looked into my eyes.
"Welcome back." she whispered and smiled.
"Hi." I said weakly and smiled back.
"Paige, do you know why people join this club? Why they come to watch us?" Anne asked, "Why they come to watch girls be sexually tortured and often murdered?"
I shook my head.
"Because they want to do the things we do." Anne whispered, "They want to die the way those girls die - but they’re afraid."
"You’re a member."
"Yes I am." Anne admitted, "And I used to be one of them. But I’m not afraid anymore. I don’t care if they watch me. And I want you not to care that they watch you."
I smiled at Anne again, feeling a growing fondness and trust. It took me a few seconds to realize where those feelings were coming from - it was her honesty; honesty in the way she moved through life; honesty not hiding the extra folds around her belly; honesty in her lust and desire.
"There’s a conference room in the mansion - a large one with day beds set up where most of the Crawler girls have gone and members can come and go and watch them." Anne said, "I’d like you to come there with me to play together and dance with our Crawlers."
"I get anxious."
"I’ve seen you at press conferences. You’re not anxious then."
"That’s different."
"I know, you’re being a Communications Director then. This time I want you to be Paige - raw and unrehearsed."
I gazed up into her eyes, thinking that I could do it if Anne was with me.
"Okay." I whispered and nodded.
We walked together across the lawn to the mansion, my vest still unbuttoned, Anne’s arm around my shoulders, mine around her waist. On the way, she told me that her Crawler had been inside her small intestine for two hours, so she wasn’t going to last as long as I would, but she made me promise to stay in the room.
"The medical team sometimes makes you stay in recovery after expulsion, but I’ll come back as soon as they let me." Anne promised.
The room was crowded with only two daybeds unoccupied. One had large stains in the centre and around the pillows that were still wet, so we chose the other - it still smelled of puke and piss, but the sheets had been changed. Anne noticed my nervousness at the crowd of members clustered around the room, sipping cocktails and acting like we were hired entertainment, so she had me lay down on my belly, and massaged my neck and back. She pressed her belly against my bum and I could feel her crawler moving inside her.
The low spring sun was cutting through the room and appeared to spotlight a girl on a bed near us in the corner. She was lying on her belly also, straining and grunting, her body squirming and the round globes of her bum jiggling as her Crawler danced in her belly and her orgasm raged inside her. I was taking guilty pleasure in watching her writhe and listening to her grunts and panting.
"Oh fuck." I heard Anne gasp and lay down atop my back, "I’ve got a dance coming on."
She leaned out over the edge of the bed and dry heaved. I slid and twisted out from under her and rolled her toward me.
"No, Paige. I …" she gasped, and swallowed.
"Shhh." I soothed her and pulled her close, opening my vest and pulling up her dress, then pressing my naked belly against hers, "It’s okay, Anne. It’s okay."
I pressed my open mouth against hers as she began to heave. After all, it was only water.
And that is how we spent the next hours; comforting each other; making love to each other; drinking as much water we could hold that the Dark Encounters girls brought around and puking it back up during waves of stormy orgasms from our Crawlers’ wild dances. We even slept at times - mostly from exhaustion. But each time I awoke, it was either to Anne’s beautiful sleeping face, or her bright eyes and smile.
Did I fall in love with her during that time? I’m not sure. I suspect that I fell in love with her that morning while we were in that bathroom together.
The members came and watched and went, and it didn’t bother me to be watched, to give them their vicarious thrills. Sometimes members would have sex with a willing Crawler girl. There were even times that being watched multiplied my pleasure, like the first time Anne fist fucked me as my Crawler wriggled its way out of my Ascending colon into my small intestine. An older, elegant woman was watching us, seated on the foot of our bed and I could see the yearning in her eyes and that made me proud that I had the courage to experience this without fear. And soon, being watched made me feel like a wanton slut and I found that I liked that feeling too. There was a freedom in it that I’d never tasted before.
But fear was always present in the back of my mind as I‘m sure it was present in all of our minds - our Crawlers had to be expelled.
Anne’s turn came while I was lying on my back, reveling in my third fisting, loving how loose and slippery my pussy had become. It occurred to me that with all of the men I’d been with, I’d exercised to ensure I stayed tight for them, even gripping them while we fucked to my own loss of pleasure. But here, with this wonderful woman, I loved the feeling of how sloppy and welcoming it had become. Anne’s pussy was the same, which fit her personality - she didn’t give a shit what people thought of her, not even her lovers.
But as I drifted in and out of the waves of blissful feelings, I felt Anne’s hand clench tighter inside me and heard the wet gurgling and the splash of warm water on my belly as she puked on me.
She pulled her hand from inside me and rolled onto her side. I sat up and wrapped my arms around her.
"What’s wrong, Anne?" I asked, worried.
"It’s happening." she whimpered, which worried me because she usually didn’t, plus she looked confused and uncertain. "I’m sorry." she said weakly
"Don’t be sorry. Should I get someone?" I asked, feeling helpless as she puked again.
"They’ll come." Anne said, then started feebly pulling at her clothing. I helped her strip bare.
"I think I need to be on the floor." Anne’s voice quavered and she slid sideways off the bed. I climbed down after her and knelt behind her, stroking her hair and holding her shoulder as she quivered and convulsed.
As she lay on the floor, heaving and quivering she lifted her left knee, opening her thighs.
"… fuck me..." she gasped. "… please fuck me..."
I made a point of my fingertips and thumb and pressed them into her pliant, slippery pussy, forming a fist inside her, pressing it deep like she preferred. As soon as I was in she let her left leg drop as though she lacked the strength to keep it up. While the members encircled us to watch her expulsion, I fist-fucked her with long, slow, deep strokes with Anne straining and grunting with rolling orgasms, her body quivering. I could feel the muscles in her belly vibrating.
"I’ll come back for you, Paige." Anne gurgled, "I promise."
It didn’t take long for the med team to get there, and it didn’t take long for Anne to stop vomiting as the Crawler blocked her gullet. While the med team and the gawking members surrounded us, Anne appeared to drift on the edge of consciousness as her Crawler wriggled its way up her gullet. Her belly undulated rhythmically and her bum and thighs quivered as she went from gasping and moaning to an alarming silence.
I felt her body stiffen and her abdominal muscles clenched so tight she pushed my hand out.
Anne’s eyes were rolling loosely and her tongue worked at the back of her throat as small pulses of beige mucus flowed out of her open mouth and pee burbled from between her thighs. She looked like she was dying. I was terrified.
As her eyelids fluttered and her eyes rolled up in her head, her lips went slack and the grey Crawler wriggled in her mouth, clattering against her back teeth. One of the med team members reached in with a gloved hand and pulled it out as they rolled Anne onto her back.
She wasn’t breathing.
"Intubate." I heard the dreaded word, and the med team member was sliding a curved tube down her gullet and attaching an ambu-bag. He began squeezing the bag as they loaded her on a stretcher and carried her from the room.
I wanted to follow, but my own Crawler was busy making its way toward my own stomach with such energy that I couldn’t stand, let alone walk - I felt that if I tried, my bowels would drop out of my ass. By the time my Crawler slowed and gave me relief enough to be able to rise, Anne and the team was long gone and I didn’t know where they could be found.
Her last words echoed in my head - "I’ll come back for you, Paige. I promise." - And I yearned for the moment when she walked back through that door.
I climbed up and sat on the edge of our bed, feeling stunned and alone, numb with worry. A clean, fresh smelling Dark Encounters girl appeared in front of me and held out a warm damp towel.
"Towel?" she said with a smile. It was a surreal moment, but I took the towel and wiped my face clean, then my breasts and belly and inner thighs and crotch.
I stood and smoothed my skirt down and did up the buttons of my vest, my Crawler keeping slow time as he moved inexorably toward its freedom through my stomach.
I walked toward the French doors leading to the balcony and picked up two bottles of water on my way. No one was out there, and that suited me fine. I wanted to be alone, not because I was self-conscious anymore, but because I couldn’t stop worrying about Anne; she was being attended to by the medical team of a place whose principal business is helping girls live just long enough to entertain their members as they were hanged, gutted, or impaled. How good could they be at saving lives?
On the other hand, she was a Senator and an A-list member, so her potential death might scare them badly enough to ensure she had the best care.
I drank my water and let the cool spring breeze cool my flushed face as I leaned on the balcony rail and watched the city lights far down in the valley come to life. Below me, staff were picking up discarded soiled clothing - my smeared and crusted panties no doubt one of them - and hosing vomit - some mine - off sidewalks and benches. Everyone had retired to the East Wing, most in the room behind me, the Crawler girls puking or orgasming or passed out momentarily from exhaustion, and the members who couldn’t get enough.
I wondered idly if Craig was still here, then decided I didn’t care. I was quits with Craig both professionally and personally. I knew I could find another job, and in Anne I had found someone who seemed to really care about me and I about her. I could see a future for us.
If she lived.
As I finished my second bottle of water, I again felt the tingles of my Crawler’s sharp feet, and wondered what obstruction he could have encountered.
Then I felt it.
It was a peculiar sensation, kind of like how a burp feels as it builds deep down in your belly. I just knew it was the thing we’d been dreading all day; I felt him withdraw his feet and give a short burst of violent wriggling inside me, then stop. This was a different sort of penetration I was feeling - one more invasive than all the previous ones. It brought to mind the memory of losing my virginity, not just feeling my hymen tatter but the cock sliding deep inside where nothing had invaded before.
The Crawler was in my Duodenum, just under my stomach. He gave another short burst of wriggling , then stopped again. I stood perfectly still, breathing slow and shallow, waiting for what would come next. I felt him gently undulate, penetrating my Pyloric sphincter sensually, slowly. I actually felt his girth stretching it, opening the lower muscular ring to my stomach. Then as his thick head passed through the Pyloric, he wriggled his tail and propelled himself into my water-filled stomach.
It was the first time I couldn’t feel any movement inside my belly since this morning, he was free-floating in there. I could only feel the weight of the water inside me, and I was still aware of his presence - eight inches of stainless-steel reinforced, articulating plastic, full of servo motors and capable of incredible violence.
Time moved on and I was frozen in place. The cold grip of fear crept up my core from my pussy and rectum right up to the pit of my stomach. Tingles washed over my bum and belly and down my thighs.
I realized I was holding my breath. What was he waiting for?
Then I felt him stir - a little wiggle. Then a larger one. And suddenly he was thrashing so violently in my belly that I could hear the water sloshing inside me.
As my Crawler wriggled and splashing inside my belly and I hovered on the edge of puking, I began to feel weak and fragile - the tingles over my belly invaded deeper into my body. A quivering started in my throat and belly, travelling down through my core to my sex, then spreading across my lower belly. My thighs were shaking, my hips feeling disjointed, and I started trembling all over.
That’s when my legs lost all their strength and I fell on my ass.
As I sat there on the balcony, quivering inside and out, an odd and very strong arousal grew inside me. I wanted … no … I needed to be penetrated. Penetrated solidly and deeply. I needed to be fucked deep and hard to quell this internal trembling.
My thoughts returned to the woman on the grass who was in the midst of her expulsion, how she had stuffed her fingers into herself as she puked and orgasmed. And Anne; begging to be fucked when her expulsion pulled her to the floor also. Now I knew what they were feeling - quivery and fragile deep inside, like an infuriating tickle that tingled the length of my core - from my rectum to the root of my tongue.
It occurred to me then why the description of the Crawler experience was a "slow impalement" - is this craving a primal need to feel a total impalement? I’d watched girls be impaled at the Annual Orgy, squirming and shivering as they took the spit - is this how they felt? Losing themselves in the sensations of a crotch to mouth penetration?
My belly and breasts were jiggling, I was trembling so badly. I felt weak and so very needy, and what I needed scared me. I craved a real impalement up through my rectum and bowels and through my stomach to my mouth. Anne’s appreciation of a Dark Encounters’ death rang true for me in that moment - I would have accepted a spit eagerly in that moment, so long as it penetrated through the quivery craving inside me.
As my stomach fluttered and I gagged a little, I felt that familiar pull in my lower belly. My stomach giving little warning heaves, my right hand snaked down between my thighs and I cupped myself. My crotch was hot, my loose pussy pulsing small dribbles of mucus, and below my anus was opening. My body was surrendering to this final onslaught of sexual torment and bliss. The experience of the next dozen or so minutes would either bring me ecstasy or would kill me. I was strangely accepting of either - I could see myself survive and be reunited with Anne, or to die by choking on the Crawler and have my pale used-up body taken to the Dark Encounters’ morgue. I still felt the tingling of fear, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to be free to accept the chance of death willingly, and take survival as a gift. I closed my eyes and let it take me as I bent my right wrist and pushed my entire hand inside myself with my left.
As I felt the warm embrace of total surrender and my orgasm began to grow in my belly, I realized that my own hand wasn’t enough - I needed someone to do it for me. I needed to be fucked or fisted deep.
I slid my now slimy hand out of myself and rolled to my side, crawling on hands and knees back through the French doors, my water bloated stomach sloshing in my loose belly, hanging down between my vest and skirt, tight against it. I crawled, weaving and clumsy, to the open area at that end of the room where no one was because of the chill coming in through the open doors. I was moaning, hiccupping, getting weaker as my Crawler worked inside me, trying to reach my gullet. The trembling and quivering in my core was strong - I was craving penetration more than ever - it was like an itch I couldn’t scratch, an itch that only a deep fuck could reach.
"It’s Paige." I heard someone say.
"… expulsion…" I heard another murmur. Yes, it’s Paige’s turn to expel her Crawler. I was aware as the members that were crowding the room moved to get a better view of me. I also heard another girl moaning and retching.
I no longer cared that they were watching me in my vulnerable state. I had been a voyeur that day just like all of them - with Anne in the bathroom; watching Jolene’s belly undulate while she was being fucked; watching the masturbating woman on the lawn have pulsing orgasms as she tried to fist herself; being aroused by the sight and sound of the girl on the daybed beside ours. There is a symbiosis between voyeur and exhibitionist, I decided, a sexual union that breaks down inhibitions and created a sexual bond.
Fuck me, I wanted to beg - fuck me, fist me, impale me, but all I could do was groan and even that ended in a gurgling heave as I puked between on my hands. I was feeling so weak - so overwhelmed - so needy. The sickness was strong in my belly, but so were the orgasms the weak trembling feeling in my core was promising.
My lower belly and my sex quivered and the pre-orgasmic pulsing there were so far only threats, like a darkening sky just before a storm. I needed penetration to cum. I was barely able to hold myself up on my hands and knees. I knew then why Anne and the woman on the grass wanted to be on the floor - they’d fought it off until they couldn’t fight anymore then surrendered to it, knowing it was inevitable just as it was inevitable for me - they wanted the ground or the floor as I did, because the room was tilting at crazy angles and my head spun like I was drunk. I felt the Crawler trying to wriggle through my Esophageal sphincter into my gullet as I continued to puke. I wanted to puke - to vomit this thing up out of me and to pass out, or even die if I couldn’t be fucked to release this orgasmic energy that was making my body quiver and shake inside and out.
Here I was, a professional woman; a Communication Director
for a Congressman, a woman who possessed poise and diplomacy and who could think on
her feet in front of a press scrum; a speechwriter who could reach out to the
common people and make them believe what I wanted them to believe. Five years
ago I proudly walked across the stage and accepted my doctorate in Political
Science, I was named in the Washington Post as a number one draft pick for young
Congressmen. Yet here I was, crawling on my hands and knees across a floor,
debasing myself in front of America's aristocracy - the country's illuminati ...
a spectacle ... a sexual curiosity ... a collection of meat and nerve endings
wanting nothing less than to be fucked as I humiliated myself.
And I loved it. I loved every single sensation and craving. I was baring my soul
and my animal sexuality for anyone to see.
I looked up into the faces of the crowd - a blur of eyes and mouths - Please fuck me, I willed them silently, but all I did was heave up more water. I lowered my head, feeling so alone in that crowded room.
Then I caught the shadow on my left out of the corner of my eye, and felt body heat as someone knelt beside me. I could see a thigh clad in grey sweatpants on its knee near my shoulder an felt an arm encircle my waist.
"I’m here, sweetheart." the voice sounded hoarse, and I didn’t recognize it at first, "I told you I would come back for you."
Anne.
With a warm rush of relief and gratitude, I leaned against her strong solid body.
"Up, honey." she said, lifting with the arm curled under my lower belly, "Get your bum up. I know what you need."
So I struggled and got my knees under me, surrendering to her care. I felt her fingertips on my crease, smearing the mucus that I had been leaking.
"Head down. We have to let gravity help."
I lowered myself to my elbows, puked again, and laid my cheek down in the puddle. Then Anne pointed her fingers and slid her entire hand inside my pussy with no resistance and made a fist. I felt my belly swallow her hand whole, starved as it was for penetration. She pushed deep and her knuckles ground against the root of that quivering in my core. I felt relief. I felt my orgasms start to build in force, like a hurricane builds and bloats.
I found my voice and used it to moan long and low as Anne started to fist-fuck me and my orgasms built as my Crawler wriggled into my gullet. I don’t know if I was feeling one long pulsating orgasm, or a series. Anne fisted me masterfully; at the end of every slow deep thrust of her fist she pushed my cervix up into my uterus and held it there tight and my orgasm would cramp my lower belly with a rush of warm energy that travelled up my core causing my gullet and stomach to convulse. My pelvic cradle became a crucible of intense ecstasy that boiled and frothed within me.
My Crawler was wriggling in my gullet and the image that flashed in my mind was a microscopic video I once saw of a sperm swimming toward an egg. I was in the process of ejaculating an eight-inch mechanical sperm up my gullet and out of my mouth. I wondered if this is what men feel when the cum - although I doubt it was as intense.
I was entering a state of sexual bliss where nothing else mattered. All I was aware of was Anne’s fist moving and pressing inside my lower belly and the Crawler wriggling up my throat. Through the fog of pure lust and wantonness, I heard Anne’s voice - distant and muffled;
"Listen to me, sweetheart. No matter what, we will get through this. I want you to listen to my voice and do what I tell you. Can you hear me?"
Mid-heave, I nodded my head.
"I need you to breathe between heaves, okay?"
I drew a desperate wet breath and gagged once more. I could feel the Crawler rising higher in my gullet and feelings of panic were threatening.
"I’m with you, hon. I’ll be with you all the way. I won’t leave you. Breathe again."
I did.
"You’re safe, Paige. Even though you may not feel safe, you are."
Suddenly the Crawler was interfering with my ability to breathe - my throat seized and I was choking. It was happening too fast. It was too intense, too frantic. Panic rose quickly and I felt Anne tighten her arm that was around my waist.
"Shh." she soothed, "It’s okay. You’re okay. Lift your head up, now hon."
Panic. Choking. Slapping the floor spastically with my hands.
"Lift your head, Paige!"
I pushed up with my hands and lifted my head, my face hanging down.
"Now open your gullet like you’re throating a cock."
A cock. Deep-throating a cock. Yes. I could do that. I lifted my chin and opened my mouth.
"Okay, sweetheart. Here it comes."
And the Crawler was wriggling at the root of my tongue, pressing it down, forcing itself past that last obstruction into my mouth. I worked the back of my tongue, trying to help the wriggling Crawler between heaves. I felt it slithering into my mouth, clattering against my back teeth, its body covered in a coating of slimy mucus. I could taste bile and the musky flavour I’d tasted on those occasions when I had tongue-fucked someone - I was tasting my own bowels and it made me shudder in perverse pleasure. The Crawler’s tail undulated wildly in my throat as though it knew its journey’s goal was within reach and I gagged hard, feeling it wriggled down the length of my tongue and through my drool slick lips to clatter onto the floor.
"Good girl" I heard Anne murmur.
I thought my sexual experience would end then, but instead all hell broke loose inside me:
A final orgasm exploded in my core, my body jerking and humping wildly, my bowels in full peristalsis, my abdominal muscles clenched and quivering hard. Anne stayed with me, grinding her fist against my cervix, holding my waist tight with her other arm. I could hear her voice, encouraging, urging me on in my final release, but in my state none of the words made sense to me. I felt as though I had lost touch with my sanity, that I had gone mad with lust, sexually drunk and out of control. I was making guttural, animal sounds - sounds I had never made before as my body shook, bucked, and convulsed.
Was this my body’s final reward to me for enduring the Crawler? Or had I permanently lost my shit and would spend the rest of my life drooling and masturbating in a mental hospital?
It seemed as though this final intense orgasm would never end but it must have, because I slowly returned to reality and found myself sitting in my own puddle of sick, my bum slippery with it and other secretions. I was being held tight to Anne’s soft, fleece clad body, both her arms around me, her legs around my waist, soothing me and reassuring me. I was sobbing uncontrollably, drooling down the front of her grey hoodie.
Events became a blur.
I found myself calmer, still crying, but no longer sobbing. Anne helping me to my feet, my legs still weak and feeling disjointed as I staggered, Anne guiding me from the room. I kept my face buried against her chest, the soft material of her hoodie a comfort. I wanted crawl inside it, for her clothing to become a cocoon for us both to press our bodies together.
I found myself in a shower, Anne lovingly washing my body and my hair. Then in a hot two person spa tub, Anne naked as well, our slippery bodies nested with each other. I still felt delirious, a sexual hangover addling my wits. I willingly gave myself to Anne’s care.
Warm and relaxed, being fed yoghurt and pudding, and a wonderful sweet warm beverage. Then nestled naked in a bed softer than any I had ever experienced. The sheets smelling clean the way sheets dried outside smell and the smell of piss and vomit an erotic memory. And Anne’s arms around me, her soft belly pressed against my back. And her voice - hoarse but soft - whispering.
"I want you to come back to Colorado with me. My staff will collect your things from Craig’s."
I discovered my throat felt raw from the Crawler and it took me two tries before I croaked;
"Yes, Anne."
Then her voice closer - her breath tickling my ear.
"Be my girl?"
"Yes, Anne. I’m your girl."
"Forever and always?"
"Forever and always." I sighed.
Then sleep - sweet dreamless sleep, feeling safe and loved - Anne’s body keeping me warm.
