Chapter Two - Dirty Little Secret

That’s my tits ruined. I’m sure Lisa did call me a fat cow. She’s just spat the nipple she chewed off into my face. There’s something particularly debasing about having a slimy trail of bloody spit rubbed over your cheeks.

I wonder if they’re going to copy dad’s party - they’ve certainly started the same way. What did we do to Jane next? Is it really bad I can’t remember? It wasn’t that long ago. Come on Stacey, think. It’s not like you and she didn’t discuss it enough beforehand.

****

Jane had gone quiet for a couple of days after agreeing to be snuffed for her grandad’s birthday. I wasn’t too worried, it was a lot for a young girl to take in. For the rest of her family it was quite a relief not to be tripping over the shagged-out husks of the conquests she left lying around the house.

It wasn’t a surprise when she wandered into my bathroom one morning looking for a chat. I suppose some people might find it weird that all my children like to choose the time I’m having my morning dump to talk, especially when they find out none of us are into scat. It’s a good time though, I’m usually not doing anything else and I’m also pretty relaxed (unless I’ve been overdoing it and ripped my sphincter again, then I find it hard to concentrate on anything).

Jane sat on the floor in front of me. She always liked to sit like this, drawing her knees up to her chin. With her great belly poking out that wasn’t an option this time, so she just leant back against the wall close enough for us to just touch. I reached out to ruffle her hair and she responded by stroking my leg.

“You’ve got amazingly smooth skin.” she commented as she ran her fingers over the top of my thigh. “That’s because you’re not really into pain either, isn’t it?”

I didn’t want to open the door to that side of me, so I answered her question with one of my own.

“What makes you say that?”

“It’s just your skin’s so undamaged. None of my friends’ mums have skin like yours.”

“Maybe they just aren’t as lucky as me?” I suggested.

“No mum.” Jane protested. “I’ve seen Alicia’s mother naked, and her whole body’s a mass of scars.”

“That’s only one woman.” I protested myself in return.

“And Bonnie?” Jane pressed on. “I saw her mum dressed for her snuff party, and she’d got an entire tit missing.”

Thinking of Charlotte, Bonnie’s mum, gave me a bit of a jolt, I’d been pretty close to her when we were both on the same party circuit. I paused, my mind flashing back, before I tried to answer Jane.

“I suppose it’s because me and your dad’s just haven’t done that sort of stuff.”

“He’s not into pain either?”

That was so wrong I actually smiled. When Brian was in the mood he could have a woman shaking in agony in five minutes, and I’d be creaming my pants with every shriek.

“I didn’t say that. Your dad can torture a woman as well as anyone. It’s just, so far, we’ve always worked as a couple on someone else.”

Now my daughter did look startled. It wasn’t that Brian and I hid our partying from the kids, simply that we always went out to other people’s parties so they never saw us at play.

“You abuse them as well? Is that normal? Have you done it to anyone I know?”

It was a flood of questions, Jane wasn’t going to be stopped until she’d dug down deep. I really couldn’t do anything else but ‘fess up. I started with Jane’s last question, it seemed the easiest, and maybe she’d forget the others.

“You saw Charlotte didn’t you?” I asked, blushing a little.

“And that was you…?” Jane didn’t finish the question, just half-cupped one of her swollen breasts with her hand.

“Yes.” I admitted. Then, with a little more daring. “With Charlotte strapped to a door while I had my pussy wrapped round a pair of cocks.”

Well that was pretty direct, and I think it had made Jane forget her other questions. Her mother had never been so blunt before, even my daughter’s hand had stopped moving on my thigh. I should have expected her next question, but it still gave me a start. At least she hadn’t made me reveal how I wished I’d been in Charlotte’s place.

“Mum.” Jane asked. “How come you and gran have never been snuffed?”

It was a fair question. Half the women Jane knew, and several of her friends, had been snuffed. My mother was by far the oldest female she knew.

“That’s down to your grandad I suppose.” I began (and it was). “Your gran’s really into abusing women, and your grandad really enjoys that. He’d always much rather screw her as she’s tormenting someone else.”

I was relieved Jane didn’t ask the obvious next question, ‘That’s gran, but how about you mum?’

How to answer that? My mother had her own plans for me, and I’d just followed them. She has a strong personality and unusual tastes.

****

Well my chest is scorched with pain and now that’s mum’s wrinkly arse blocking out my view. Oh damn, her ringpiece is puckering! I can’t say I’ve ever enjoyed taking a steaming load from her - just my luck to have a mother who’s into scat. To be fair, mum would be just as happy getting her mouth underneath my straining sphincter. Don’t think any of my lot inherited their gran’s taste, Jane certainly didn’t.

****

“Gran’s into scat?” it was hard to tell if Jane was shocked or intrigued. It was better than I’d managed, I just stood there with my mouth hanging open when I found out. Although, to be fair to me, the circumstances were a little different

I hadn’t had such regular company for my morning shit since the girls were little. Now Jane was joining me most days, intent on picking at the scab of knowledge on her upcoming snuff. I’d barely sat down today before she was asking me about a cryptic comment from her Aunt Anne.

“It was a surprise for me to find out as well.” I tried to answer calmly (damn Anne and her ‘little’ hints). “She always kept our house spotless growing up, used to get quite sharp with us kids if we even trampled a bit of mud in. We used to be inspected for cleanliness all over, and I do mean all over, every morning.”

“But she really is into scat?”

“Yes she is, but I think she’s a little embarrassed about it. She’d been brought up in a nice middle-class family herself and you know scat is considered a bit common.”

“How did you find out?” Jane seemed to have settled on intrigued, by far the best I could have  hoped for.

“Believe it or not it wasn’t until after I’d married your father. I popped back home to let her know I was pregnant and found her on the kitchen floor taking a load from our neighbour Debbie. I never knew why mum had her as a friend before, she was a grossly fat woman who always stank of sweat and worse - and you should’ve heard your gran on her housekeeping.”

“What happened to her?” Jane asked, her nose wrinkling up at the image.

“Burnt at the stake for a bonfire party. Mum was delighted, she’d always said only a good fire would get rid of that smell.”

“I can imagine Gran saying that.” Jane admitted. “It’s the news she’ll eat shit I’m having trouble with - I wouldn’t fancy it. Debbie sounds pretty gross, I got paired once with fat Sue in Sex Ed and I nearly puked licking out her sweaty smelly crotch.”

“That’s a bit unfair, the Sue in your class was only a little plump. Debbie’s arse was so gross and shit-encrusted you couldn’t help puking.”

My answer was maybe a little too emphatic, although my daughter’s shocked look just brought out my imp of mischief. I hadn’t even told my friends what I found myself telling Jane now.

“You ate…?!” a startled Jane didn’t manage to finish her question, but I knew what she meant.

“Face deep in those sweaty cheeks.” I announced, not sure if I was proud or embarrassed. “That was your grandad’s fortieth.”

“So you’re into scat as well?” she looked worried. “Does that mean I should be?”

I hastened to put her right, “I didn’t say I enjoyed scat itself, I do it to please the people I’m with. Although at a big party now I actually feel a bit disappointed if I don’t get to taste somebody’s arse. That first time I threw up before I’d swallowed more than a couple of mouthfuls of Debbie.”

“But you did it again?”

“Immediately. Your grandma was really annoyed and made me eat all the remaining turds and my own vomit.” I chuckled. “Of course, looking back, knowing your grandma, it’s quite a surprise she didn’t eat it all herself.”

Jane’s face moved with mental effort. I’m fond of my daughter, and she really is very pretty, but she’s not the fastest thinker.

“Do you think I come in here because you’re crapping?” her face was looking uncertain. “I didn’t think I did. It always seems like a good time to get you alone, I don’t think I enjoy the smell.”

“Relax Jane.” I calmed her. “I don’t think you’re hoping I’ll suddenly leap up and squeeze one out on you. Your grandma’s the only member of the family I know who’s really into scat.”

“But you did say you looked forward to it at parties?”

“Sort of, but I didn’t say it was fun. I do it for the people who are there as a party treat. Just like you’ll be doing. I know you’re not into pain or snuff, but you’ll be doing both to please your grandad won’t you?”

Jane got to the crux of her problem, “But I’ve done pain before, most boys get a thrill from seeing you a bit hurt, but I’ve never done any scat beyond the odd ATM.”

“The odd slap and pinched nipple isn’t going to be anything like getting snuffed.” I pointed out, making Jane’s face drop a little.

“But if it helps to think of it like that,” I suggested, I didn’t want her getting too nervous. “Why not try and think of it as some really dirty ATM?”

“I’m not sure that’ll help much.”

“How about if I try and take your mind off it?” I volunteered. “If it’s not too late I could break your fingers, a mouthful of turds shouldn’t bother you so much then.”

“I suppose it might work.” Jane agreed reluctantly.

“And, in the meantime, why don’t you get some practice in?” I proposed, lifting my legs up and slipping forward on the seat. “My backside shouldn’t be too bad if you want to lick it clean.”

For a moment I thought Jane would refuse, which have been awkward, but a moment later, despite looking revolted, she voluntarily pushed her face between my cheeks. The sensation of my daughter’s warm damp tongue lapping my ringpiece was perfectly pleasant for me, the edge taken off only slightly by the muffled gagging noises.

****

I hope Jane didn’t find me too gross. At least my mum isn’t as disgusting as Debbie. After starting with that foetid rectum mum’s turds never seemed quite so bad. It’s a pity I couldn’t keep my promise to Jane in the show, how was I to know Uncle Paul was going to chop her fingers off? She didn’t gag too much though, licking her mother clean every morning must have helped.

Mum’s moving in for a snog. Better swallow all her shit down, she’s sure to probe with her tongue and find out if I’ve been cheating. Is it odd that a grown woman worries about getting a telling off from her mother?

I thought that was my pussy being fingered, but I reckon you’d need two hands and a foot up there to make me feel so stretched. Somebody’s got their fingers in my pee-hole, and they’re tearing it open. That’s going to be a bit different to Jane.

****

The party was only a couple of days away, and I was filling my eldest in on a few preparations I had in mind. Jane was blooming wonderfully, her fat pregnant belly stretched as tight as a drum. It was amazing there was room for anything else in there. She certainly seemed to to need to pee every fifteen minutes, and that had given me an idea.

“I was thinking of preparing you with a few surprises beforehand. Maybe even what we used to call the ‘yellow dam’.”

“I haven’t heard of that.”

“Neither have I for years, I’ve never actually seen one. My Uncle Rupert told me about them once, apparently they were quite popular when he and my dad were young. I thought grandad might enjoy an old-fashioned torment to kick things off.”

“So what is it?”

“Really simple but, I’d imagine, very effective.” I explained. “You just block the girl from peeing.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“You wait.” I advised her. “You’ll feel differently with your bladder blown up like a balloon and creaking under the strain.”

“Thanks for that mum.” Jane announced, squirming a little. “Now you’ve reminded me I need to go again.”

“Well I’m not getting up now.” we were, as usual, in the bathroom, and I was already squeezing one out. “If you’re that desperate, you’ll just have to sit on me.”

It was hard not being able to reach my clit. Feeling those soft young buttocks squeezing against me and her warm stream of piss splashing against my thighs, was bad enough. When I wrapped my hands round her swollen belly, and thought of the fun we were going to have with it, I could feel my own warm juices dripping out.

I have to confess I cheated a little that day, clenching my buttocks together as my last turd dangled from my arsehole. When Jane knelt down to clean me up she protested at the sight I’d created for her. Like a good mother I insisted she clean me properly, however filthy. Honestly, I never even thought how that would mean her nose rubbed for ages against my desperate clit.

This story is a fantasy, set in another place, with only the slightest passing nod to our reality as it’s glimpsed on a distant horizon. If this isn’t immediately apparent to you, I strongly suggest you seek urgent psychiatric care.