The Hunchback and the Maiden
by Arthur Saxon
Mr. and Mrs. Barnes glanced at each other as the doorbell rang. “That must be him,” said Patty anxiously. “Oh I do hope this is going to be all right.”
“Now Patty,” said Alan, “remember what we talked about. Any man that’s made such a great impression on Rosie must be a decent sort.”
“Oh I didn’t mean that,” said Patty. “I just meant that I hope things go well – I hope he likes us and nothing awful happens.”
“What could happen? We’ll sit down, have some supper, chat for a while … it’ll be fun!”
“I hope so.” Patty did not seem any less anxious. She stepped out into the hall, but already her daughter was hurrying downstairs.
“He’s here!” exclaimed Rosie excitedly. “Let me get the door Mummy!”
Rosie Barnes was the apple of her parents’ eye. Eighteen years of age, she was in her first year of university, but to look at her you could be forgiven for thinking she was just halfway through high school. Very petite at just five foot one inch in height, she had a slender figure that might have looked rather boyish if it were not for her C-cup breasts, which were currently straining against the fabric of her pretty white summer dress. She was wearing a pink ribbon in her curly blonde hair, which came down to her shoulder-blades, and her blue eyes were wide with anticipation.
Just as she reached the door, however, her expression grew serious, and she turned to her mother. “Now Mummy, you will be nice to him, won’t you? He’s a little …different.”
“Different? In what way?” asked Patty.
“You’ll see!” said Rosie, and she pulled the door open.
“Oh my!” exclaimed Patty, as she found herself looking at a stooped-over little man with shabby clothing and a noticeably hunched back.
“Roger!” said Rosie happily. “Come in! This is my mother.”
“Er, hello!” said Patty. “Roger. Call me Patty.”
Roger shuffled over the threshold, half-turned, and cocked his head sideways at her, peering at her through thick round glasses. “Cor, I can see where Rosie gets ‘er looks,” he said with a grin. His voice was guttural and phlegmy.
“Thank you!” said Patty, rather nonplussed.
“Where shall I sit down?” asked Roger. “Me bunions are givin’ me gyp.”
“Um, in the living room – straight through there,” said Patty.
Hunched over as he was, Roger was barely taller than Rosie. As she passed him, he slapped her on the bottom, and she squealed and giggled as she skipped ahead of him into the living room. Roger chuckled and shambled after her more slowly.
“Nice place,” he remarked, peering around at the furniture. He lowered himself into a chair as Alan watched with a look of alarm on his face.
“Hello!” he said, recovering himself a little. “I’m Alan – Rosie’s father. Uh, Rosie didn’t tell us you were a … I mean, that you had a…”
“Daddy!” exclaimed Rosie, shocked.
Roger grinned up at Alan. “I ‘ave an ‘unch’ I know what yer referrin’ to,” he said, then he burst into raucous laughter, which turned into a fit of coughing. He snorted, then cleared his throat noisily.
“A ‘hunch’!” repeated Alan, laughing nervously. “What a splendid, self-effacing sense of humour you have Mr. Rutter!”
“Aw call me Rog, fer ‘eaven’s sake,” said Roger. He pulled a packet of cigarettes out of the pocket of his grubby raincoat and fished out a cigarette with nicotine-yellowed fingers. “’Ere, mind if I smoke? It ‘elps wiv me lungs.”
“Um, well none of us smokes,” said Alan, but at a stern glance from his wife he added, “but I suppose it’s fine – please go ahead.”
As Roger lit up and took a drag, Patty said, “So Roger … Rosie tells us you’re in pest control?”
Roger cleared his throat again, and coughed up a chunk of phlegm, which he spat into the waste-paper basket next to his chair. “Yeah that’s right. But I don’t kill ‘em. Oh no. I’m a pest re-locator, that’s what I am. Pests Unharmed Services. That’s my company. I go into an ‘ouse, catch all the pests, and take ‘em away somewhere they’ll be ‘appy and won’t be a nuisance to anyone.”
Rosie sighed happily as she gazed at Roger lovingly. “Isn’t that the most amazing thing you’ve ever heard?” she said. “Most people who say they love animals only really love the cute and cuddly ones, but Roger sticks up for the animals most people hate!” She sat down in Roger’s lap and smiled at him.
“That’s certainly very … commendable,” said Alan, nodding. “And, uh, do you have any employees?”
“Nah, it’s just me,” replied Roger, peering down the front of Rosie’s dress. “At the moment.”
“Oh – you plan to take on some staff?”
Roger craned his neck to look up at Rosie’s face, and he grinned. “Yeah – at some point.”
Rosie looked across at her father. “Er, Daddy,” she said, “I’m thinking of dropping out of university.”
“What?” exclaimed Alan. “But you’re doing so well!”
“I thought you were enjoying it!” added Patty.
“Oh but Mummy, I can’t bear to be apart from Roger,” said Rosie hurriedly, “and business studies is turning out to be really quite dull.”
“Troof is we’d like to get married,” said Roger. A long strand of drool broke free from his lower lip and dropped into Rosie’s cleavage.
“Married!” exclaimed Alan and Patty together.
“Yes,” said Rosie. “Now don’t get cross – we’ve talked this over and we really think it’s the best thing.”
“But … you’re so young!” exclaimed Patty.
“And Roger’s so…” began Alan, before Rosie cut him short with a “Daddy!”
“I’m forty-six,” said Roger, somewhat offended. “I’m not old.”
“No no, I didn’t mean to say that you were,” said Alan. “It’s just that there’s quite a large age difference…”
“Yeah,” said Roger, grinning happily at Rosie’s firm young breasts.
“Anyway, Roger said I could work for him if I leave university,” said Rosie. “It’ll be like a family business!”
“And where will you live?” asked Alan.
“Oh, at my place,” said Roger. “It’s not much but it’s ‘ome.”
“It’s a flat in Bethnal Green,” said Rosie. “Not too far away – we could come and visit as often as you like.”
Alan nodded. “So when were you thinking of getting married?”
“Soon as, mate, soon as!” said Roger. “I’m dyin’ to get into 'er knickers.”
Rosie laughed. “Silly goose!” she said, swatting Roger lightly on the nose. Then she explained to her parents, “Roger’s been very supportive of my desire to keep my virginity until my wedding night.”
“That’s … good,” said Alan, frowning a little.
“Roger’s a virgin too, aren’t you Roger dear?” said Rosie.
“Been savin’ meself for the right girl,” Roger elaborated.
“How wonderful!” said Patty. “That’s so rare these days. Well, if you want to get married right away, I don’t think we can manage a church wedding…”
“Oh that’s all right, the registry office will be fine,” said Roger. “I’ve got an appointment for tomorrow afternoon.”
“I see!” said Alan. “Well I suppose congratulations are in order, then. Welcome to the family!”
“Fanks,” said Roger.
“Well!” said Patty brightly. “Shall we eat?”
The following morning, Roger returned to the Barnes’s house in his battered old Ford van, along the side of which ran the legend “Pests Unharmed Services” together with the phone number of his flat.
“We’ll meet you at the registry office!” Rosie sang to her mother as she climbed into the passenger seat. “Roger and I are going to shop for a wedding dress and an engagement ring!”
It took just half an hour to find a ring they both liked. Roger was very low on funds, so they picked up a pretty but very cheap imitation diamond ring in the costume jewellery section of a down-market department store.
The dress was a little harder. “What would you like to see me in?” asked Rosie.
Roger leered at her. “Sumfink see-fru,” he said with a dirty chuckle. “And really short.”
She giggled. “Can you imagine my parents’ faces?” she said. “Come on – I think the dresses on the second floor.”
But they could find nothing remotely see-through. They had given up and were on their way to the escalators when Roger pointed. “Look!”
Rosie turned to look, and her eyes widened. Not twenty feet away, at the edge of the lingerie section, was a rack of negligees. One in particular that caught her eye was white and very sheer. “You want me to wear that?” she asked Roger.
“Yeah,” replied Roger with a grin.
“Oh dear!” Rosie fretted. “I’ll feel awfully naked – and in front of my parents too! Not to mention the registrar!” Then she sighed, and lifted the hangar off the rack. “But of course I’ll wear it for you, my darling. Now, I just need some sexy underwear to wear under it…”
They looked at several matching bra & panties sets, and Roger decided he liked best a very sheer set that also matched the negligee. “But darling!” whispered Rosie urgently, “if I wear a sheer negligee and sheer panties, everyone will see my … my…” She dropped her voice still lower, and murmured into Roger’s ear, “my pubic hair!”
“Then shave it off,” he said. “We’ve time to get home and do that before we have to be at the registry office.”
Rosie looked at her watch, then nodded. “I suppose so,” she said. “Shave it off? What, all of it?”
Roger nodded, and Rosie shrugged helplessly.
Alan and Patty’s eyes nearly started out of their heads when they saw Rosie walk into the registry office. The negligee turned out to be not quite long enough to cover Rosie’s sheer panties, with the result that the definition of her newly-shaved labia was very obvious. And the double-thickness of sheer material covering her breasts was utterly insufficient to conceal her nipples and areolas. Mortified at her exposure yet excited to be here, Rosie walked up to the front of the room with Roger shuffling alongside her.
The ceremony was short and sweet – more cheap rings were exchanged, documents were signed, and within minutes the happy couple were on their way back to Roger’s flat. The lift was broken so they climbed the stairs – Rosie going first and Roger following behind, craning his neck to look up at his bride’s bottom.
He was in no condition to carry her over the threshold, so Rosie merely stepped inside once he had unlocked and opened the door. “This place could use a woman’s touch!” she observed.
It was filthy. Wherever she looked she saw food-encrusted dishes, pizza boxes, empty bottles and cans, and empty boxes and bags from fast-food stores, on top of, in between and sometimes underneath discarded clothing. Cockroaches scuttled here, there and everywhere, and Rosie had to remind herself to be strong – these were among the animals she so admired Roger for being fond of. “I see you have lots of little pets!” she remarked bravely.
“Yeah. Go on through to the bedroom,” said Roger, “and take off yer clothes.”
“Okay,” said Rosie with an impish grin. She skipped through to the bedroom, where the mess was every bit as bad as in the living room, and took off her negligee. As Roger shambled in, she removed her bra and then her panties. Naked, she lay down on the bed, on her back. “I’m yours, my darling,” she said to her new husband.
Roger stared lustfully at her bald pussy, her perfectly-shaped breasts, her flawless and supple skin … and then he climbed on top of her, still fully clothed. He unzipped his well-worn and very dirty trousers and pulled his long-unwashed penis out of his y-front underpants. He pulled Rosie’s legs apart by her knees, and then he erupted in a fit of coughing that brought a considerable amount of phlegm into his mouth. He spat the green gooey mess into his hand and used it to lubricate his four-and-a-half-inch erection. “Oh yeah!” he said as he slid it firmly into Rosie’s virgin pussy.
Rosie’s eyes bulged in pain, but she gritted her teeth – she had heard that the first time was painful. She steeled herself for the difficult ordeal ahead, but then suddenly Roger pulled his penis out of her.
“That was brilliant,” he muttered. He tucked himself back into his underpants and zipped up his trousers.
Rosie felt something wet trickling down from her vagina over her anus, and she hoped it was not blood. She looked from side to side, hoping to spot a box of tissues. She could not see anything. “Um, do you have anything I could wipe myself with?” she asked.
“Just use the blanket,” said Roger. “It’s fine.”
The blanket, however, was filthy. “Perhaps I’ll just use the bathroom,” she decided aloud. She got up and trotted through to the bathroom, wrinkling her nose up at the smell of stale urine. She looked around in vain for toilet paper. Finding none, she sighed with exasperation and lifted her foot up on to the side of the basin, intending to clean herself with water from the tap. When she turned it, however, nothing came out.
“Your taps don’t work!” she called through to Roger.
“Nah, they cut me off when I didn’t pay me bills,” he replied.
Rosie lifted the lid of the cistern on the back of the toilet, and found it empty and dry. Several dead cockroaches were lying in the bottom. She replaced the lid. Looking down, she saw that there was liquid in the toilet bowl, but from the smell it was probably pure urine. “What do you do if you need a number two?” she asked.
“That’s what customers’ houses are for,” he called back. “I never take a dump 'ere – I always save it up and do it while on a job.”
“Oh,” said Rosie. She walked out of the bathroom and went through to the kitchen, where, thankfully, she found some bottled water and a roll of paper towels. Having cleaned and dried her pussy (there had been a little blood, but it was mostly semen), she went back to the bedroom and climbed under the covers. “Why don’t you take off those clothes and join me under here?” she purred to him seductively. “You could make love to me again.”
He grinned at her, but then he cocked his head at the sound of the phone ringing in the living room. “Might be a customer,” he said, and he got up to go and answer it.
“Don’t leave me alone in here,” she called after him with mock-petulance.
But she was far from alone. She suddenly realised that several things were crawling over her naked body under the covers. Hastily she reached down and grabbed one of them. When she pulled her hand up to in front of her face, she saw that the creature was a cockroach. No doubt they all were. Her instinct was to jump out of bed in horror, but she supposed that she would have to get used to this kind of thing if she was to be living her permanently. So when she felt one of the insects crawl between her labia, she merely bit her lip and hoped it would not crawl inside her. Alas – it did. She spread her legs apart and held her pussy open with her fingers in the hope that the roach would come out again, but all that happened was that several other roaches crawled inside after the first. Now thoroughly grossed out, she clamped her legs tightly shut so that no other roaches would invade her body.
Roger shuffled in from the other room. “We’ve got a job the day after tomorrow,” he said. “Cockroaches.”
Rosie rolled her eyes. She suspected she was going to be thoroughly sick of cockroaches by the day after tomorrow. But then she silently reprimanded herself – these were God’s creatures too, and worthy of her respect and love. She tugged at Roger’s sleeve. “Are you coming to bed?” she asked
Roger nodded, and slowly stripped down to his underwear, leaving just his y-fronts and socks still on. He climbed into bed with Rosie, and stuck his hand between her legs. She smiled into his eyes and parted her legs for him, whereupon he slid two fingers into her vagina. With his other hand he squeezed and kneaded at her left breast, until he became excited enough for his erection to recover. As soon as he was able, he spat into his hand, lubricated himself, and plunged into his young bride’s cunt once more. This time he lasted longer, and as he thrust inside her, he reached around her buttocks with one hand and wormed his grubby middle finger into her anus.
“Oh my!” she exclaimed. It was not an entirely unpleasant sensation – just surprising.
As Roger grunted with the effort of thrusting, saliva dribbled from the corner of his mouth and formed a puddle on Rosie’s chest. He craned his neck so that he could kiss her on the lips – she had to bend down to meet him halfway – and during a full minute of deep tongue-kissing she had part of him in her mouth, anus and vagina. His breath smelled like rotting garbage, but she was happy to endure it, because she loved him so.
He spurted some more semen into her, and then pulled out. “I need a piss,” he said, and he clambered out of bed.
Sighing happily despite the creepy sensation of the numerous cockroaches wandering over her naked body, Rosie contemplated her future with her husband. She would have to clean this place up of course … get the water turned back on … get rid of all the clutter … do a whole lot of washing… It was a long list but if she took on one thing at a time it would be quite manageable.
When Roger returned, she said to him, “Darling, do you think we could pop over to my parents’ house and collect some of my clothes? I can’t very well wear a negligee all the time!”
Roger nodded. “Not much space for yer clothes ‘ere. There’s a chest of drawers but I’m usin’ it for my equipment.”
Rosie looked around the cramped room thoughtfully. “If we move the chest of drawers right up to the wall there, I’m sure there would be room for another one between that and the door.”
Roger eyed the space dubiously. “Small one maybe.”
“I have a small one at home,” said Rosie. “I could bring it over. And then I could keep my clothes in it.”
“Awright,” said Roger. “I’ll go over there now and get it if yer like.”
“Would you? Oh thank you darling! But I should come with you – you’ll need help moving it. And I’m desperate to use the bathroom – for a number two I mean.”
“But yer’ve no clothes suitable for turnin’ up at yer parents’ ‘ouse. Don’t worry about the liftin’ – I’ll manage. And yer can take a dump the day after tomorrow at our customer’s ‘ouse.”
“Well if you’re sure,” said Rosie dubiously. “It’ll be nice to have some storage space here. Would you bring me some clothes to put in the chest?”
“I’ll fill it wiv as much clothes as it’ll ‘old,” said Roger. He hacked up another gob of phlegm and spat it on to a small bare patch of floor. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Thank you my darling!” gushed Rosie, her eyes shining with gratitude. “I’ll see you soon!”
Two hours later, as she was watching television on the couch in the living room, she heard the fumbling of keys just outside the door. Thinking it would be fun to surprise her husband, she quickly slipped out of the panties she had put on, and skipped to the door completely naked. Throwing it wide open, she exclaimed “Hello my darling!”, only to see to her horror that it was her father standing at the door. Squealing in horror, she covered her breasts and pussy and dashed through to the bedroom.
Roger chuckled from behind Alan. “Dunno what she’s so bovvered about,” he said. “It’s not like you didn’t see all of that this mornin’.”
“Well quite,” said Alan. “Anyway let’s get this thing inside. Ready on your end?”
“Got it,” replied Roger as he grabbed the base of the chest of drawers on his side.
“And lift!” instructed Alan. The two of them hefted the chest inside and carried it through to the bedroom, where Rosie had climbed back into bed. “Hello Rosie,” said Alan.
“Hi Daddy!” said Rosie, blushing in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry about that – I thought it would be Roger.”
“That’s quite understandable,” said Alan. “My goodness, this place is…”
“Hush Daddy!” said Rosie.
“I know it’s a mess,” admitted Roger, “but I’ve been a bachelor for a long while.”
Alan nodded. “I know what that’s like,” he said. “I remember only too well sharing a flat in my student days – my goodness we were slobs back then.”
He and Roger now shifted Roger’s chest of drawers up against the wall, and sure enough Rosie’s little chest fit just nicely alongside it, allowing the door to open fully with only an inch or so to spare.
“Right!” said Alan. “Well, I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone. Have fun!” He walked out of the bedroom, and left the flat.
“Let’s see what you’ve brought me,” said Rosie, climbing out of bed and brushing a couple of cockroaches from her breasts. She opened the top drawer. “Ah, undies! That’s good – thank you.” She opened the second drawer. “Oh, you got all my old miniskirts – my goodness, they’ll be a bit small for me now, I fear. And some tank-tops, I see – that’s good.” And then the third drawer: “Aha, some of my old dresses! Um, I’m not sure how well I’ll fit into them, but … oh, my white summer dress – thank you! That’s my favourite!” And finally she opened the bottom drawer. “Let’s see – oh yes, my shoes … and my sewing kit! I’d never have thought of that – how clever of you! And a nightie – goodness me, I haven’t worn that in years. And … oh my goodness! My old school uniform?”
Roger grinned. “I’d like to see you in it,” he said.
Rosie giggled, and smiled fondly at him. “I’ll be happy to model it for you,” she said. “But I wish you had brought some of my jeans and at least one sweatshirt. I have nothing to wear on my arms if it’s cold. But never mind. Right now I’m hungry. I’d cook something but we don’t seem to have much in the cupboards or the fridge.”
“We’ll get pizza,” said Roger. “We’ll do some shoppin’ tomorrow and then you can cook tomorrow’s dinner.”
“Sounds like a plan!” said Rosie with a smile. “Shall I order the pizza?”
The following morning Rosie called the water company and paid Roger’s outstanding bill using her own credit card. The lady she spoke to assured her that their water would be turned back on some time that day.
Later, she and Roger went to the supermarket, and soon filled a couple of trolleys with groceries. Roger grumbled at how much this would cost, but he subsided when Rosie told him it would save money in the long run. He had no qualms, however, about adding half a dozen bottles of booze to his own trolley.
Today Rosie was wearing a tank-top and an old A-line miniskirt that she had barely managed to get into. Roger had requested it, and she was happy enough to oblige, but she did feel rather self-conscious as she suspected that her buttocks might be peeping below the hem at the back. Whenever she needed something from a low shelf, she was very careful about how she crouched down, not even thinking that this might be disappointing Roger. Eventually, however, he called to her from a few yards behind as she straightened up from having picked up a packet of spaghetti from the bottom shelf.
“When yer need sumfink from down there,” he said, “keep yer legs straight when yer bend. And take yer time about gettin’ up again.”
Rosie realised suddenly how selfish she was being. “Oh, I’m sorry darling,” she apologised. “Like this?” She bent at the waist, so that her skirt rode up over her bottom and exposed her panty-clad buttocks and, as she bent over further, the thin strip of her gusset as it bulged around her shaven labia.
“Cor, yeah, lovely,” said Roger from behind her.
To make up for having deprived him of this view on previous visits to the bottom shelf, Rosie took her time, pretending to search through all the packets of spaghetti for one that looked especially nice. As she searched, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, causing her bottom to sway back and forth and her panties to gradually work themselves further and further between her buttocks. The thought that she was being so naughty in such a public place was rather exciting, and soon her gusset was becoming soaked with her juices. After a couple of minutes of this, during which two elderly couples passed by and tutted their disapproval, Rosie gasped as she felt the gusset of her panties pulled to one side, and two of Roger’s grubby yellow fingers prodding their way into her vagina.
“Roger!” she exclaimed in a hoarse whisper. “You’ll get us into trouble!”
“I’ll stop if anyone comes,” he said. “What’s this?” He withdrew his fingers, pulling out a large cockroach as he did so. “Bloody ‘ell, yer ‘ad a roach in yer cunt!” The roach struggled frantically. “It’s still alive!”
“Well don’t drop it in the store, or there’ll be a dreadful uproar,” said Rosie, still bent over almost double.
“True,” said Roger, and he pushed it back into Rosie’s vagina. “Someone’s comin’ – yer’d better get up.”
For the rest of their shop, Roger continued to grope his young bride at every opportunity, and Rosie began to find excuses to bend down and pick up items from the bottom shelf. By the time they had gathered everything they needed, practically all of the store’s patrons had seen Rosie’s panties at one time or another. A few complained, but Rosie would simply stand up straight, turn around, fix her baby-blues upon the angry customer, and apologise sincerely with little shakes of her head to set her golden curls bouncing attractively. That was all it took to melt even the hardest of hearts, and as often as not the offended customer would actually apologise to Rosie for having been so snappy.
“It’s not that I mind, personally,” said one severe-looking woman in her fifties. “I just think that such a pretty young thing as yourself should be a bit more careful about who sees your underwear.” She inclined her head in the direction of Roger, who was standing a few yards away massaging his crotch with one hand while he gripped his trolley with the other.
“How sweet of you to be so concerned for me!” gushed Rosie, taking the woman’s hand. “But it’s really all right – he’s my husband.”
The woman’s eyes nearly started out of her head. “You can’t be serious!”
“I know it seems an unlikely match, but he has the sweetest heart of any man I’ve ever met,” said Rosie. “Anyway thanks again for your thoughtfulness.”
“Well … er … you’re welcome,” said the woman, edging away down the aisle. “Sorry for disturbing you.”
In the queue at the checkouts, sandwiched and partially hidden between their two trolleys, Roger spent several minutes with his hand up Rosie’s skirt and his fingers stroking around inside her vagina while she unloaded their groceries on to the conveyor belt. Fortunately nobody saw this, or at least if they did they did not comment. The cashier was very warm and friendly to Rosie, but barely glanced at Roger except with an expression of distaste, which made Rosie annoyed on his behalf.
“That cashier was so rude!” she said as they pushed their trolleys back to the van. “Totally ignored you! Even when you spoke to him!”
Roger shrugged – he was used to it. “Never mind,” he said. “Let’s get back to the flat – I’m dyin’ for a fuck.”
Rosie smiled at him. “Of course, darling,” she said.
That evening, after a marathon sex session and a dinner of Spaghetti Bolognese which she cooked using most of the remaining bottled water, Rosie found herself pacing up and down the living room wearing just her panties. “It’s no good,” she said to Roger. “I can’t hold it until tomorrow.”
“Then go in yer knickers,” said Roger with a shrug. “I don’t care.”
“In my knickers!?” Rosie was startled at the suggestion.
“Sure,” said Roger. “We’ll empty ‘em out tomorrow.”
“But … the smell!” said Rosie desperately. “It’ll be unbearable!”
“Yer get used to it,” said Roger. “Did it once meself – wasn’t that bad.”
Rosie whimpered fretfully, torn between her desire to relieve her desperation and her innate disgust at the thought of what her husband was proposing. It would be just too awful! And yet … if he wanted her to do it… “Are you sure you won’t mind?” she asked anxiously.
“Go ahead,” he said. “In fact turn around – I want to watch.”
Reluctantly, Rosie turned around to give Roger a perfect view of her bottom. Biting her lip, she relaxed her anus and allowed the monster turd inside her rectum to descend, forcing her sphincter open and pushing through by sole virtue of the pressure within – she was not pushing at all.
But it got stuck. Since she had delayed her defecation so long, her poo had become wider than would comfortably pass though her anus, and so it sat, lodged just inside her rectum, remaining firmly in place even though her anus was distended by an inch and a half already.
Spreading her feet wider apart, she bent over slightly and strained hard. Her anus opened wider and wider … and wider still … until with a sudden rush that made her wince, the first three inches of her poo popped out of her rectum. Now she did not have to push at all, as the next six inches or so slid smoothly through her anal orifice through the combined actions of gravity and peristalsis.
As Rosie’s panties began to bulge at the back, Roger unzipped his trousers, took out his penis, and started to masturbate, grinning with perverse pleasure at the sight before him. He wished he had a camera, so he could record this incredible moment and show it to his friend.
Rosie’s poo began to curl up and compress in the back of her panties, and it was now pushing back with as much force as the pressure from within was expelling it. She started to push again, and the sagging mass nestling between and below her buttocks grew and grew. Realising she had made enough space in her bowel to relieve her desperation considerably, she pinched off her poo and relaxed. She turned around and smiled apologetically at her husband.
“Sorry about the smell,” she began, and then she said “Oh!” when she saw that he was masturbating. “Did that turn you on?”
“Yeah,” said Roger. “Yer finished?”
She shook her head. “There’s more, but it can wait until tomorrow,” she said.
“Nah, do it all now,” said Roger. “I want to see how much there is.”
Rosie smiled. “All right,” she said. Now that she knew he was enjoying this, she felt less embarrassed. She turned back around and started to push again. Almost immediately her anus flowered open and a rope of soft poo slithered out and built up atop the existing pile. The back of her panties now started to balloon outwards, and pretty soon she had produced a lumpy ball of poo about the size of a large grapefruit.
“Cor that’s a lot!” remarked Roger, tugging excitedly on his penis. “Any more to come?”
“Unfortunately yes,” said Rosie, and she pushed again. Her poo became thicker and firmer, and as it came out it bored into the existing ball, forcing it to expand from within. Soon the grapefruit had become a melon, and her panties were starting to slip down her buttocks under the weight. With a last effort, she pushed out another few inches of soft poo, and then she was done. “That’s it,” she said.
“Nice,” said Roger with a grin. “Now come ‘ere.”
She walked over to him, the huge mass of poo caressing her buttocks strangely as she moved, then she knelt down in front of him. Lifting one of his feet, she removed his shoe and sock, intending to suck his toes (she had heard this was a very sexy thing to do). However she was rather shocked at the state of Roger’s foot – it was almost black with filth, it had a terrible bunion that caused the first big-toe joint to form a near right-angle, there were corns on all the toes, his toenails were gnarled and yellow, and he had athlete’s foot so bad that pieces of skin the size of cornflakes were being shed from between his toes.
Rosie was anxious not to show any sign of disgust, so she instantly bent down and took Roger’s big toe into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it and sucking all the dirt off it. The taste was awful, but she was determined not to be sick.
Roger grunted, “Ooh, that’s nice.”
Rosie was just licking around his toenail when it suddenly came loose in her mouth. Shocked, she drew back and pulled the twisted yellow nail from her mouth. “I’m so sorry!” she said.
“Don’t worry, it ‘appens all the time,” said Roger. “Keep goin’ – that was nice.”
Despite the fact that yellow pus was now oozing from where Roger’s toenail had been, Rosie enclosed her mouth over his toe again and continued sucking. The pus tasted bitter, and she found herself chewing a flake of skin, but she bravely soldiered on for another couple of minutes before she accidentally swallowed the piece of skin, and withdrew before she lost the contents of her stomach.
Forcing herself to smile lovingly at her husband, she climbed up on to the couch, kneeling down with her legs straddling his. He slid himself forwards until his crotch was positioned beneath hers, then he pulled the gusset of her panties aside and positioned his penis at the entrance to her vagina. As she lowered herself on to him, he slid as deep inside her as his meagre length would allow, and then sat still while she eased herself up and down, doing all the work.
Roger reached his hands around behind her and cradled the huge bulge in her panties. Then he pulled it inwards, pressing it against her bottom, and held it still while she continued to bounce up and down. She now found her buttocks and anus sliding up and down against the sticky mass, which was an interesting and almost pleasant sensation. She leaned forwards and whispered in his ear, “Do you like me having lots of poo in my knickers?”
“Yeah, it’s great,” he gasped, approaching his climax.
“Would you like me to go in my knickers every time?” she whispered.
“Yeah – do that,” he managed, and with that his loins twitched and bucked, and he spurted his cum into her.
For the rest of the evening Rosie had to be careful not to sit down, and when she went to bed she lay on her front, though at first this was also on top of Roger so that he could fuck her again.
When Rosie awoke the next morning, she found that her poo was still mostly intact, though some had got smeared on the sheets despite her efforts. The huge squishy lump was drier now, but still tacky against her skin, and still somewhat warm on account of her own body heat. She carefully got out of bed and walked over to her chest of drawers. “What shall I wear today?” she asked.
“A dress,” said Roger. “Short one.”
Rosie smiled and opened the third drawer down. “Is my white one short enough?” she asked. She hoped it would be – it came down to mid-thigh and that was quite short enough for her, given that she had to conceal a big sagging bulge in the back of her panties.
“Nah – too long,” said Roger. “What else ‘ave yer got?”
She pulled out a pretty yellow dress which she had not worn since the age of ten or eleven. Roger’s eyes lit up, so she held it to her front and raised a quizzical eyebrow. This, she judged, was way too short – it would not even cover her panties at the front. Not to mention there was no room for her breasts.
“Looks great,” said Roger. “Put it on.”
She did so, but she could barely get the hem down over her hips, and when she finally accomplished this it was still four inches short of covering her panties at the front. At the back, her poo bulge was forced downwards an inch or so, and compressed at the top – it was now partially covered but most of its volume still remained below the level of her hemline. Her breasts, meanwhile, were being squished most uncomfortably, and when she tried to zip herself up at the back she realised it was hopeless. “It’s no good,” she said. “I’m just too big for this dress now.”
Roger came around behind her and tried to zip it up, but he too failed. “Awright,” he said, disappointed. “Try another.”
The next one she pulled out was a flower-patterned cotton dress that she had acquired a little more recently than the yellow dress. There was a little room in the chest – such as might be suitable for a girl in the early stages of adolescence, as indeed she had been when she was given it. It had been almost indecently short back then, and though that had not stopped her from wearing it at the time, she had stopped wearing it as soon as it started to show her panties even when she was standing upright. She had been thirteen then, and at an age when teasing by the boys was beginning to take on sexual overtones. Fortunately, she had not grown much since then, but even so…
She put it on, not bothering with a bra as it would be tight enough in the chest without one. Well, at least it was not quite as short as the yellow dress. It failed to cover her panties, of course, but only to the tune of about two-and-a-half inches at the front, and four at the back. Ordinarily she would suffer the embarrassment of such exposure for her husband’s sake, but when her panties were bulging with poo it was a different story. “Another time, perhaps,” she said. “But I really need to wear something that will cover my panties – while they’re full of my poo at least.”
“Nah,” said Roger. “That’ll do. No-one’ll see yer ‘cept for the customer, and we’ll just tell ‘er yer’ve ‘ad an accident and need to use ‘er bathroom.”
“But that’ll be awful!” exclaimed Rosie. “I don’t want her to think that I’m the sort of person who has accidents!”
“But yer are,” said Roger.
Rosie had to admit that this seemed to be true, as of last night. “All right,” she said with a sigh.
The phone rang again, and Roger shuffled off to answer it. When he returned he looked very pleased. “’Nother job,” he said. “Today. We’ll get to it after the first one.”
“What’s this job?” she asked.
“Leeches in a pond,” said Roger. “Tricky job, but I’ve done it before.” He coughed and spat, then coughed again, wheezed, and then erupted in a fit of coughing that lasted almost a minute.
“Good grief!” exclaimed Rosie while this was going on. “My darling, are you all right?”
“Comin’ down with a bit of a cold,” explained Roger, wheezing, as his coughing ground to a halt. “Never fails, come the beginnin’ of the summer.”
“Oh dear!” said Rosie, concerned. “Well we must get you some medicine for that.”
Roger collected his equipment together, and then the two of them left the flat. Rosie was very nervous as she walked down the stairs, but her hopes that they would not meet anyone were dashed as she heard the sounds of conversation lower down in the stairwell. Her heart pounding in her chest, she continued to descend, each corner she turned making the knot in her stomach a little tighter.
Soon enough they came into view – four lads in their late teens, smoking and laughing. As they saw Roger one of them said, “’Allo Quasimodo! ‘Ow’s it going?” Then they saw Rosie and all four jaws dropped. “Fuck!” said one of them. “Blimey!” said another. Then all four started wolf-whistling and laughing. “Nice knickers, miss!” “How much for a shag then?” “Whatcha doing with Quasimodo then?”
As she reached them she tried not to show her fear. “I’ll thank you not to call my husband that name,” she said primly. “It’s very hurtful, to both of us.”
This silenced them, though when she tried to push past them she was stopped by a firm hand on her arm. “’Usband?” said one. “You’re fucking kidding me! You’re never married to the ‘Unchback of Bethnal Green are yer?”
“I am,” she said coolly. “Now please let me go.”
“Fuck!” came a voice from behind her. “Look at her knickers! At the back I mean!”
Rosie’s heart sank. She knew how to twist one man, or maybe even two, around her little finger, but four represented a completely different dynamic. Nevertheless she tried. “Yes, I’m afraid I had a bit of an accident,” she said, widening her eyes slightly and staring soulfully into the eyes of the lad who had a hold of her arm. “But it felt so nice and squishy against my bottom and, well, I thought it would be nice to spend the whole day like this.” She moved a little closer to him and started to pick imaginary bits of lint from his chest. “You’re being awfully mean to me, you know,” she continued in a sorrowful tone, “particularly since I put on this dress today especially so that I could flash my panties at nice young men like yourselves.” She looked up into his eyes, with an expression that usually made people melt, and was very satisfied to see a look of startled wonder on his face. “Should I have worn a longer dress?” She looked from him to his wide-eyed companions and raised an eyebrow.
“No, no, that dress is just fine,” said the boy she was flirting with most directly. “But, you know, perhaps you should empty your knickers out before you go anywhere – you might get arrested.”
“Yeah, not to mention there’s lots of perverts about,” said another of the boys, and there was a ripple of laughter, which fizzled quickly.
“Thank you – that’s good advice,” she said, nodding her head firmly to make her curls dance. “But we’re going to be late if we don’t hurry. I’ll try to keep out of sight until we get where we’re going, and then I promise I’ll empty out my messy knickers at the first opportunity.” The boy in front of her had long since released her arm, and she took a nonchalant step backwards. “Well, it was nice meeting you. Come on Roger.” She waited while he shuffled up to her, then she took his arm and they continued down the stairwell side by side, while the four boys watched them go in goggle-eyed silence.
Nearly a minute after Roger and Rosie had vanished from view, the boy who had held her arm finally stirred. “Nice girl,” he remarked. There was a mumbled chorus of agreement from his friends.
Outside, Roger chuckled. “Got a way with words, yer ‘ave,” he said. “Mostly they beat me up.”
“They don’t!” exclaimed Rosie, shocked.
Roger nodded, then shrugged. “They’re not the only ones.”
Rosie was filled with indignation. “If I had known that, I wouldn’t have been nearly so nice to them!” she said. “I’d have kicked their arses!”
Roger grinned. “They’d’ve raped yer if yer’d tried.”
Rosie shivered. “I suppose we’d better try to avoid them in future,” she said.
“Nah, they all fancy yer now,” said Roger. “Yer’ll be fine wiv ‘em.”
They got into Roger’s van, and Rosie settled herself down carefully in the passenger seat. Her poo was dry enough now that it would not splurge everywhere – instead it squished slightly and was like sitting on a small sticky cushion.
After a short drive they reached their destination – a town house in the middle of a long terrace. Roger smirked to himself. Along with blocks of flats, terraced houses were the best way for plagues of cockroaches to spread from one household to another – this would require several visits. He and Rosie got out of the van and walked up to the front door of the house. Rosie rang the bell, and within seconds the door was opened by an attractive brunette in her late twenties. She stared at the two of them in shock.
Rosie did not give the woman a chance to vocalise her thoughts. “Hello, we’re here about your cockroach problem,” she said. “My name's Rosie Rutter. This is Roger, my husband and an expert in these things.”
Roger lifted his eyes from the woman’s ample chest to her face, grinned, and said “’Allo.”
“Well you’d better come in then,” said the woman. “I’m Anita, by the way.” She stood aside to let them pass, and then she gasped as she saw the state of Rosie’s panties. “Good heavens!” she exclaimed.
“I had a bit of an accident,” confessed Rosie, blushing to the roots of her hair. “I wonder if I might use your bathroom to clean up?”
“Uh, well, I suppose so, but don’t dump all that down the toilet,” said Anita. “It’ll block the U-bend right up. I’ll give you a plastic bag – you can take it home with you.”
“Oh!” said Rosie, nonplussed. “Thank you.”
Anita went into the kitchen and returned with a zip-seal freezer bag. Rosie took it, thanked her again, then went upstairs to the bathroom. Pulling down her panties, she carefully removed the huge wad of poo – it had been squished into a rough disc-shape, measuring perhaps eleven inches by eight, and more than four inches thick at its widest point, though it tapered towards the edges. A central ridge ran through the middle, flanked by wide buttock-shaped depressions. It only just fit in the freezer bag.
Rosie carefully washed her buttocks and pussy using moistened wads of toilet paper, as well as parts of her thighs which had become poo-smeared, and then she dried herself using dry toilet paper (she didn’t like to use any of Anita’s towels). She flushed all the paper down the loo, and then set about washing her dirty panties in the basin. Having got them reasonably clean and wrung them as dry as possible, she put them back on. A cockroach ran up her leg, but she barely noticed it – she was getting used to such things, living in Roger’s flat.
Returning downstairs, she found Roger and Anita deep in conversation. “I’ll just suck ‘em up wiv me vacuum,” Roger was saying. “Simple. Course, we won’t get ‘em all – yer in the middle of a terrace and yer neighbours’ll have roaches too, so once we’ve removed yours, they’ll come back in from next door.”
Anita sighed. “I realise that, and I understand that I’ll have to ask you back in a few weeks. But your rate is very reasonable, and it’s worth it to have them relocated rather than killed.”
“Yeah,” said Roger, nodding. “That Boric acid is cruel as fuck. No animal should ‘ave to die like that.” He looked up at Rosie. “Did yer wash yer knickers?”
Rosie nodded and smiled. “Yes, I’m all clean now.”
“But they’re still soaking wet,” said Anita. “Why don’t you stick them outside on the clothes line? By the time you leave they’ll be dry.”
“Well if you wouldn’t mind…” said Rosie.
“Not at all,” said Anita.
Rosie stepped outside the back door and found herself standing on a small square patch of lawn, on the far side of which was a garden shed. A single length of clothes line had been strung up from the house to the shed, and having removed her panties Rosie looped them over it. Then she scurried inside before any of the neighbours saw her naked and shaved pussy.
In the living room, she blushed and covered her pussy with her hands as she saw Anita staring down at it with casual interest.
“Awright darlin’,” said Roger, “let’s get to work.”
Every piece of furniture in the house was systematically pulled out, turned over, stripped down, and every cockroach lurking beneath or within it was sucked up the nozzle of Roger’s specially adapted vacuum cleaner. The roaches ended up in a 30-gallon plastic tank, which was more than enough space to cope with even a severe roach infestation. He also had a 100-gallon tank for rat infestations, but this was too large to move when full, and stayed in his little van.
Once the furniture was taken care of, it was time for the cupboards. One by one each was emptied and vacuumed out – cartons and packets were checked for roach entry holes. The infestation was not nearly as bad as in Roger’s own flat.
“They mostly come at night,” said Anita. “Mostly. You should see them when I come down in the middle of the night to get a drink or something. And I can hear them, too – rustling in the attic…”
“Attic?” said Roger.
“Oh yes! I forgot to mention – the trapdoor’s in the closet above the stairs. Yes, I imagine you’ll find plenty up there.”
Roger grunted. Looking upwards was a problem for him, and he had not noticed the trapdoor when he cleaned out the closet in question. “I’d better get up there then,” he said.
“Oh, I’m not sure you’ll fit,” said Anita, looking at his hump with a concerned expression. “It’s awfully small…”
Both of them turned to look at Rosie, who gave a start. “Oh!” she said. “Oh yes – I’ll go up there myself.”
Anita led the way upstairs, and then she and Roger watched as Rosie climbed up a step-ladder and then pulled herself up into the tiny opening that led into the unfinished attic. Roger licked his lips as he watched her pussy disappear into the darkness above.
“It’s awfully dark up here!” came her voice. “And I can certainly hear the roaches – and feel them! They’re climbing all over me!”
Dozens had climbed or dropped on to her within seconds of her arrival, and she could feel them moving inside her dress. Some were running over her bottom and pussy. First one and then another found the entrance to her vagina and crawled inside – this was becoming an all-too-familiar sensation but it made her queasy every time.
“Hello?” she said. “I need a light up here…”
“I think there’s a light switch,” said Anita. “On a beam near the entrance.”
Rosie felt around, and soon discovered the switch. Light blazed through the attic, and when her eyes adjusted she saw roaches scattering in every direction. There was a veritable carpet of them … whatever the insulation was between the rafters, it was something other than fibreglass, and it looked as if the roaches were eating it. She lifted a section of the rubbery matting, and sure enough there was a seething mass of roaches beneath. She shuddered.
“I’m going to start tossing down pieces of this insulation,” she reported. “Make a pile somewhere, and we’ll replace it afterwards. The roaches are mostly hiding out underneath it.”
It took over half an hour to strip out all the insulation. By the time she had finished, the roaches were highly agitated and swarming everywhere. She had lost count of the number that had sought refuge inside her vagina, but she was sure that there could be no more room in there by now.
Roger passed up the end of the vacuum cleaner’s hose, but the body of the machine was too large to fit through the trapdoor. In the end, in order to give Rosie the longest range possible, he balanced it on top of the stepladder, leaving Rosie just a couple of feet less than the full length of the hose to work with.
Unfortunately the hose was not long enough to cover the entire area of the attic. Rosie sucked up what roaches she could, then she clambered along the rafters and attempted to herd the insects back to within range of the hose. This was partially successful, but then she discovered that a large number of roaches was fleeing through a large hole in the wall that separated this attic from that belonging to Anita’s next-door neighbour. Putting her ear next to the hole, Rosie could hear the hissing of hundreds of roach bodies just inches away on the far side of the wall, but she could not reach them with the hose, nor was she likely to be able to entice them back into this attic. She realised that the only way they were going to come back was if she switched the light off again. And then, when they were back on this side, she would have to block the hole somehow. She looked around in vain for a spare piece of insulation, but she had done too thorough a job in stripping them out and throwing them downstairs.
Then it occurred to her that her dress would probably be just the right size to fill the hole, when wadded up. It would get awfully dirty, of course, but then it already was from having crawled around up here for the last hour or so. She took it off (with a struggle, as it was rather tight in places) and placed it next to the hole. Then she crossed the attic to where the light switch was, and she switched it off. Darkness fell instantly, and from memory she gingerly made her way across the rafters back to the hole in the wall. Feeling around, she found her dress, and then she simply squatted and waited for the roaches to return.
It did not take them long. After just a couple of minutes she felt the light touch of their feet on her own, and then they were swarming up her legs. Within a few seconds they were all over her – scuttling over her breasts, worming their way into her cunt (it seemed there was a little more room after all) and climbing all over her back, arms, face, and in her curly hair.
When she judged that enough time had elapsed, she took her dress and stuffed it into the hole. Then she crawled back along the rafters to the light switch, still covered with roaches, and switched it on. The roaches on her body began to flee in all directions, but she quickly sucked them up with the hose, and she pulled several out of her vagina and fed them to the nozzle. Some were too deep for her to reach, but it was a start. Now she went in pursuit of the others.
She got a good many of them, but some of them still managed to escape back into the hole in the wall. Puzzled, Rosie peered into the hole, and then she gasped in shock. Her dress was not there! Closer inspection revealed that just beyond the hole was another hole, this one being in the floor, and her dress had dropped right through it into the neighbouring house!
She returned to the trapdoor and reported this news to Roger and Anita. “Oh dear,” said Anita, “the family next door have gone on holiday for a week – you won’t be able to get your dress back until Sunday at the earliest.”
Rosie’s heart sank, but there was still work to do. Naked apart from her shoes, she started replacing sheets of insulation as they were passed up to her from below. Anita was very helpful in this, while Roger was putting his equipment away in the van – she did not just hold the panels up for Rosie to take, but actually brought them up and then stood atop the ladder with her head poking through the trapdoor, watching Rosie as she worked. Forty minutes later, exhausted from her labours, Rosie climbed down out of the attic, too weary to feel embarrassed about being so naked in front of Anita.
The older woman smiled at her sympathetically. “Poor thing, you’re filthy,” she said. “Why don’t you use my shower?”
“Thanks,” said Rosie gratefully. She went through to the bathroom, stepped into the shower, and began to wash the attic dust off herself. Anita brought her a towel, and then stood right there talking with Roger while glancing frequently at Rosie, who felt very self-conscious – the panel between her and Anita was clear glass and not even frosted.
As she towelled herself dry, Anita said, “Well, thanks very much you two. I’ll go and write you a cheque.”
Roger and Rosie followed her downstairs, where Rosie went out into the back garden to retrieve her panties from the clothes line. They were not there. “Oh terrific!” she muttered. A light wind had picked up since she was last out here, and every so often a stronger gust would come along – no doubt one of these gusts had carried her panties off to goodness knows where. As she looked up at the house opposite, she was startled to see a teenaged boy staring at her open-mouthed from an upstairs window. Thoroughly embarrassed, she retreated indoors.
“My knickers have blown away!” she complained.
“Oh my dear, you should have used a clothes peg,” said Anita. “They’re in a bag hanging just inside the back door.”
Rosie sighed. She had not noticed the bag of clothes pegs. “Well, I guess I’m just doomed to be naked today,” she said. She collected the bag containing her poo, and walked to the front door.
“Well thank you for a most … entertaining morning,” said Anita with a smile. “You too make quite the couple!” Then she started at a sudden thought. “Oh! Would you mind if I take a photo, for my archive?”
“Um,” said Rosie, a little nervously, but Roger said “Sure.”
“Back in a tick,” said Anita, and she hurried off upstairs. When she returned she was holding a digital camera. “Okay just stand there in front of the door, that’s good. Rosie, why don’t you put your left arm around Roger, and Roger, you put your right arm around Rosie’s waist. That’s good.”
Rosie now had only her right hand to cover her pussy, but if she thought she would get away with this she was mistaken.
“Now Rosie, perhaps you could rest your right hand on the top of the bookcase there,” said Anita.
Rosie sighed, but did as she was told. Anita grinned, and took the photo. Then Roger raised his right hand a few inches and grabbed hold of Rosie’s right breast. “Roger!” exclaimed Rosie. “Not here – you’ll make Anita uncomfortable.”
But Anita merely laughed. “Oh that’s funny,” she said, and snapped another photo. Then Roger moved his left hand across and cupped Rosie’s pussy. Anita grinned and took another picture. “Very nice!” she said.
“Hey!” said Rosie, but she was not sure whether she was saying it to Roger or to Anita. “Don’t we have another appointment today?” This was definitely directed at Roger.
Roger nodded, and removed his hand from her pussy. Anita took another photo. “I’ll see you in a few weeks then?” she asked, almost hopefully.
“We could come back and check the place over in a week if yer like,” said Roger.
“Okay!” said Anita. “That sounds great. See you in a week then!”
They bade her goodbye, and then Rosie opened the front door and peered out cautiously. A couple of cars went past, and then there appeared to be a large gap before the next one. A pedestrian was approaching on their side of the street, but he was still at least fifty yards away. Judging this to be a good time to make a dash for it, Rosie bolted out of the door and ran to the passenger side of the van (which was unfortunately on the road side), only to find the door locked. “Curses!” she muttered to herself. She looked up and saw a car steadily approaching – it would pass her in ten seconds or so. In the other direction was another car, slightly further away. The pedestrian had spotted her and quickened his pace.
She looked for Roger, only to gasp as she realised he was still standing on the doorstep, talking with Anita. “Roger!” she called desperately to him. He looked up, waved, turned and said a final goodbye to Anita, and then started shambling towards the van. He never did anything in a hurry, it seemed.
Rosie cringed as the first car passed her, the elderly couple within staring in astonishment at her. It must have been driving slowly, because there was quite a tailback behind it. The next car passed, and hooted at her, and then a line of three cars coming from the opposite direction reached her. Desperately covering her breasts with one arm and her pussy with her bag of poo, she tried to avoid meeting any of the drivers’ eyes as she waited for Roger. Several more hoots told her that her public nudity was being greatly appreciated.
Roger reached the other side of the van and got in. He reached over and unlocked her door, and she hurriedly got in. “Oh my God, that was so embarrassing!” she said. “I should have waited in the house until you reached the car.”
Roger chuckled. “Never mind,” he said. “No ‘arm in it.”
Rosie tried to slouch down so as not to be so conspicuous in her nudity, but the design of the van’s seats dictated that she had to sit pretty much upright. Her breasts would easily be visible to any passing vehicles or pedestrians. She folded her arms across her chest and sighed.
They stopped for lunch at a McDonald’s drive-thru, where the employee who gave them their lunch had the time of his life as Roger laboriously counted out the exact change. Rosie was rather amused by the delighted reaction of the spotted teen (he was just a year or so younger than she), and she let her arms fall to her sides so that he could get a good look at her breasts.
They ate their lunch as Roger drove. “Are we going to our next appointment?” asked Rosie.
“Nah,” said Roger. “Got to get rid of the roaches first.”
“Where do you take them?” asked Rosie curiously.
Roger grinned. “You’ll see.”
They were hooted at a few times by passing cars as they made their way back into the East End, and Rosie’s stomach was in knots the whole way – she feared being pulled over by a police car. But they got to their destination without incident – it was a run-down block of flats much like the one Roger lived in, only about twice the size. They drove around behind it, where a couple of large skips, overflowing with refuse, were stationed next to a small car park. Roger stopped the van and got out.
“Come on,” he said. “Yer can ‘elp me wiv the tank.”
Glancing nervously all around, but seeing nobody near, Rosie got out of the van and went around to the back. Roger opened it up and together they pulled out the tank containing all the roaches. “Where to?” asked Rosie. “The skips?”
Roger shook his head. “Nah,” he said. “The bins over there.” He gestured with his head.
Rosie followed his lead, acutely conscious of her nakedness in front of all the windows ahead of her. She wished Roger would hurry, but he was going very slowly and deliberately, taking care not to trip with his precious cargo. It seemed several minutes later (though it was probably less than one) when they arrived at the row of plastic dustbins. To their right was a small window just above ground level. Roger stopped in front of it and lowered his end of the tank to the ground. Rosie lowered hers at the same time, and then stood back, puzzled, wondering what her husband would do next.
Roger farted audibly as he squatted down, and he pulled the window open. It was so stiff in its hinges that it stayed where he left it. He then dragged the tank nearer to him, removed the lid, and tipped it over towards the window. The entire mass of cockroaches – several hundred of them, perhaps even a thousand – cascaded through the open window and disappeared into the darkness beyond.
“What’s in there?” inquired Rosie.
“Not much,” said Roger. “I’ve been down there – about the first fing they’ll find is an ‘ole leadin’ into the wall cavity. ‘S full of pipes and wires and stuff. From there they can get into any room in the buildin’. The folks that live ‘ere aren’t the types to keep a clean place – the roaches’ll love it ‘ere.”
“But … isn’t that illegal?” asked Rosie.
Roger shrugged. “Probably. But it’s good for my business – I get calls to come ‘ere all the time.”
“But … where do you put the roaches you collect from here?” inquired Rosie in disbelief.
“Oh, I ‘ave a few places. One of ‘em’s the terrace where Anita lives.”
“But that’s … terrible!” exclaimed Rosie, shocked. Then she began to see the funny side. “Clever though! Oh my goodness Roger – your business really feeds itself, doesn’t it!”
“That’s the idea,” grinned Roger. “Uh-oh, better get goin’.”
A couple of men were approaching – they looked like rough types, with shaved heads and tattoos on their thick, muscular arms. “’Ere,” said one of them. “Woss goin’ on?”
Rosie turned around and stuck out her chest. “Hi!” she said brightly. “We’re pest relocators, from the company Pests Unharmed Services. We heard there was a cockroach problem in this building and wondered if we could offer our services.”
“Naked?” inquired the other man, who was shorter and burlier than the first. He was eyeing Rosie’s pussy hungrily.
“I lost my clothes at our last job,” said Rosie, trying to sound nonchalant but in reality burning inside with embarrassment.
“You’re just askin’ to get raped, goin’ around like that,” said the short one.
“Oh, it’s all right,” said Rosie, feigning cheerfulness. “I have my husband here to protect me.”
“I ‘ave a black belt in origami,” Roger growled, before breaking into a fit of coughing.
The taller man laughed. “Well I’m sure it’ll do you a lot of good. So you too are married? You don’t say!” He shook his head in disbelief. “Why the ‘ell would a pretty young thing like you … I guess ‘e must ‘ave a pretty ‘uge cock, eh missy?”
“Actually it’s very small,” remarked Roger. “It’s me charisma and winnin’ smile that won ‘er over.” He flashed his pearly browns at them.
The taller man visibly recoiled. “Well clear off, both of you. And don’t come snoopin’ around ‘ere no more.” He stared suspiciously at the open window.
Roger picked up the tank, and he and Rosie made their way quickly and in silence back to the van. “That was scary!” she whispered to him as they put the tank in the back and closed the doors.
Roger said nothing until they were on the move again. “Might be best to avoid that place for a while,” he said, and Rosie nodded.
They drove now to the edge of Epping Forest, where they stopped outside an expensive-looking detached house. When they rang the doorbell, the door was answered by a middle-aged woman who looked astonished for a moment, and then bustled them indoors anxiously before any of her neighbours saw them.
“Do you always perform your pest relocations in the nude?” she politely asked Rosie. She had a cultivated manner and a posh accent that made Rosie doubly embarrassed about her state of undress.
“This is only my second,” said Rosie, hanging her head in shame. “My first was this morning, and I lost my clothes while doing it.”
“I see,” said the woman, who had introduced herself as Marjorie. She turned to Roger. “Mr Rutter, I’m curious about your condition. Is your kyphosis structural?”
“Eh?” said Roger.
“I’m sorry,” said Marjorie, “it’s just that my husband is a doctor and I myself trained as a nurse, once upon a time. I was just wondering about the cause of your spinal condition.”
“Yes Mr Rutter, your hunch.”
“I fink it’s called Scheuermann’s disease,” said Roger, “but me parents weren’t keen on doctors.”
“Ah.” Marjorie nodded sagely. “Well, that’s most unfortunate. You’re lucky to have found a lovely young girl who can see past your external shortcomings to the beauty within.”
“Not ‘alf,” said Roger. “And she’s got crackin’ tits an’ all.”
Rosie blushed and bowed her head still lower, but she glanced sidelong at Roger and smiled at him shyly.
Marjorie laughed genteelly. “Well yes, they are most attractive,” she said. “Now, perhaps I could show you the pond.”
She led them outside. The pond was about fifty feet long and twenty wide, and a wooden bridge led from one side to the other.
“I’ve never seen leeches before like the ones that have appeared in there in the last couple of years,” said Marjorie. “Some of them are longer than my middle finger – just huge! Goodness knows what they’re doing to my poor frogs and newts.”
“D’yer get deer comin’ into yer pond?” asked Roger.
“I’ve seen a doe or fawn drinking from it on occasion,” said Marjorie, “but I’ve never seen them actually wading in it. Anyway it’s very important to me to remove the leeches without disturbing the pond too much – I’d hate for my frogs and newts to suffer.”
Roger lay down on the edge of the pond and peered into the murky water. Failing to see anything, he rolled up his sleeve and lowered his arm into the water. After a minute or so he pulled it out again.
“Oh my God!” exclaimed Rosie, jumping back at least three feet. Two large black slug-like objects were attached to Roger’s arm – one at the wrist and the other near the elbow. They were both about three inches long and more than half an inch wide.
Roger stood up and came over to the women, who both recoiled but nevertheless stared in fascination at the creatures. Roger grinned. “See those nice yeller racin’ stripes?” he said. “And the red along the top?”
Rosie nodded. Now that she was closer to them, she could see that they were a very dark green rather than black, and they sported the red and yellow colouring that Roger had described. They also looked slimy, and utterly disgusting.
“Hirudo medicinalis,” explained Roger, pronouncing his ‘H’ with a care he reserved only for the technical terminology of his craft. “Medicinal leech. Rare nowadays. Never thought I’d see ‘em in Essex. Come on, let’s get the tank.” He and Rosie went back to the van and brought the tank to the edge of the pond, where Roger half-filled it with pond water and dropped into it the two leeches he had collected already. Then he started to take off his clothes.
“What are you doing?” asked Rosie.
“Best way to find ‘em is to attract ‘em to yer,” he replied. “Don’t worry – I’ve done this before.”
“But you have a cold!” objected Rosie. “I’m not going to let you sit around in a cold pond when you’re not well.”
Roger shrugged. “Then yer’d better go in for me,” he said.
Rosie gulped. “All right,” she said nervously. “I suppose I’m naked already, so I might as well.”
She walked up to the edge of the pond and gingerly stepped in. The water was only six inches deep here, but her foot sank deep into the thick mud at the bottom, so that the water was over her knee. She took another step, sank still further, and then she turned and lowered her bottom gently into the water. It met the mud, which then squished around her buttocks and pussy as she continued to sink slowly. Then she leaned back until her back was also cradled by the soft mud, and only her head was above the water.
“Are you all right in there?” asked Marjorie anxiously.
“Yes, I’m fine,” said Rosie. She could not feel anything biting her, and for a moment she wondered whether perhaps Roger had simply been lucky in catching two so quickly. Maybe there weren’t that many leeches in here after all.
But then she looked down at her chest, and though the stirred-up water was very murky she thought she could see a dark elongated shape on her left breast. “I think I can see one on me!” she reported in a slightly panicky voice.
“Stay in there a couple more minutes,” instructed Roger. “Might as well catch as many as possible.”
“Okay,” said Rosie. She closed her eyes and tried not to think of thousands of leeches converging on her from all sides of the pond, eager to feast on her blood, biting into her skin and drinking… It was no good. “Can I come out now?” she asked desperately.
“Nah, it’s been less than a minute,” said Roger. He snorted, then spat a green gob of phlegm into the water just beside Rosie.
Rosie tried to think of something else … anything else … but then she felt something crawling up the side of her neck and her eyes widened in terror. “What about now?” she asked in a near-hysterical wail.
“Nah,” said Roger. “Another ‘alf-minute.”
Trembling both from cold and from fear, Rosie stayed put, for what seemed like an eternity, until Roger finally said, “Okay, let’s see what yer got.”
Rosie pulled herself up using the bridge to steady herself, and she looked down at her body, expecting to see so many leeches that hardly any skin was visible. In fact it was not that bad, though it was bad enough. There were five leeches on her breasts alone – three on her right breast and two on her left. One of those on her left breast was completely covering her nipple and most of her areola, and it was enormous – at least five inches long, she guessed. Most of the others that she could see were a little smaller, and some were barely an inch in length, but a few were just as big, if not bigger.
“Come out and let’s count ‘em,” said Roger with a grin. “That’s quite an ‘aul!”
He helped Rosie out of the pond, while Marjorie stared at her, aghast. “Oh you poor dear!” she kept saying.
As Roger pulled the leeches off (which hurt, and left tiny Y-shaped cuts that bled a little) and dropped them into the tank, he counted them off. Eleven came from her back, three from her shoulders, and two from her neck. Eight more were clinging to her upper chest, five were on her left arm (although two of these were not yet attached), and six were on her right arm (one of these was actually between two of the fingers of her right hand – it was just a baby at an inch-and-a-half in length). On her buttocks were eight more, two of which were actually between her buttocks. Her right leg was hosting nine others, including the two largest that she had seen yet, and her left leg yielded thirteen. Rosie was wishing by this point that Roger had started with her breasts and pussy, since she was the most squeamish about these regions, but he seemed to be saving them for last.
In fact Roger found seven leeches of varying sizes on her breasts – she had failed to spot a large specimen clinging to the underside of her left breast, and a smaller one tucked beneath her right breast. Lower down on her torso were a staggering twenty-two leeches, a few of which were still unattached. And finally, Roger removed three from her labia, one from her clitoris (it was nestling between her labia and completely covered her clitoral hood), and four others from further back between her legs. Then he stuck a finger inside her. “I fink there’s more up there,” he said. “Lie down and spread yer legs.”
Her stomach churning, Rosie lay down on the grass at the edge of the pond and spread her legs wide apart. Marjorie, now with a perfect view of her vagina, started to turn her head in order to look away, but she seemed unable to wrench her eyes away and continued to stare at Rosie’s pussy as Roger started to work a couple of fingers inside. Rosie bit her lip and closed her eyes.
“Nah,” said Roger eventually. “Too deep, and me ‘and’s too big. I need someone wiv a smaller ‘and. Marjorie, would you mind ‘elpin’?”
Marjorie hesitated, then she came over and kneeled down between Rosie’s legs. “Do you mind, Rosie?” she asked.
“If you can get them out,” said Rosie, still with her eyes closed, “I’ll be in your debt.”
Marjorie licked her fingers, lowered them to the opening of Rosie’s vagina, and then slid two of them inside. When they were as deep as they could go, she could just feel something with her fingertips, but she could not grasp it. She managed to insert a third finger, but that was no better. A fourth made Rosie wince, and she could not push four fingers in as far as she could with three.
“It’s no good,” she said, withdrawing her hand. “Perhaps a pair of tongs?”
Roger shook his head. “Wiv tongs, yer wouldn’ know what yer were grippin’. Yer might grab a part of Rosie by mistake.” He shrugged. “They’ll come out soon enough, once they’ve ‘ad their fill. Awright Rosie, back in the pond yer go.”
“You’re not going to make her go back in there, are you?” asked Marjorie, shocked.
Roger looked puzzled. “Do yer want the leeches taken out of yer pond or not?”
“Well yes,” said Marjorie, “but surely there’s a better way?”
“Yer tellin’ me ‘ow to do me job?” he inquired.
“Er no, of course not,” said Marjorie, a little taken aback. “But, well, the poor child’s suffered enough don’t you think?”
“Rosie, ‘ow d’yer feel about goin’ back in?” Roger asked, turning to his young wife.
Rosie felt sick at the thought, but she did not want to disappoint her husband. “I’m game,” she said with a nonchalant shrug. “The job’s got to be done. Perhaps it won’t be so bad this time – maybe we got most of the leeches the first time.”
“Maybe,” repeated Roger, but he did not look as if he believed it.
So Rosie lowered herself back into the pond, a little further along the bank from the first spot, and she lay down once more with only her head above the surface. This time she simply closed her eyes and counted: “One, elephant, two, elephant, three, elephant…” until she had reached a hundred and twenty. Then she climbed out of the pond again, with Roger’s help.
“Another good ‘aul,” said Roger. “Stand still then.”
This time he removed eighty-nine leeches from Rosie’s body, counting them off diligently as he added them to the one-hundred-and-six already in the tank. They now had five whopping six-inch specimens in their collection – on this occasion, one had been feasting on Rosie’s right nipple, another had been attached to her right buttock, and a third had come from her armpit, though it had not yet attached itself. Roger had also spotted a potential record-breaker disappearing into Rosie’s vagina, but he had not been quick enough to catch it and it hid itself away beyond his reach.
Back into the water Rosie went, and on this occasion she stayed in for five minutes and attracted almost two hundred leeches. By this time there were so many in her cunt that they were unable to hide themselves very far inside, and Roger managed to pull a couple of them out. Marjorie kept saying she ought to go back inside and get some jobs done, but nevertheless she stayed and continued to watch with a mixture of disgust and fascination.
And so it went for the rest of the afternoon. At nearly six o’clock Roger called a halt. “We’re not gettin’ so many now,” he said to Marjorie, “and Rosie’s lookin’ a bit pale. She’ll‘ve lost a fair bit of blood I expect. That pond must be really seethin’ wiv leeches – I dunno ‘ow they’re all makin’ a livin’ in there, but there must be a very good source of food for ‘em to ‘ave proliferated the way they ‘ave. I reckon we’ve got close to free fousand so far, and I’ll bet there’s at least that many still in there. I suggest we come back in a week and see if we can get most of the rest. We’ll never get ‘em all, yer understand – we’ll ‘ave to keep comin’ back every month durin’ the summer an’ autumn.”
Marjorie nodded. “Well you’ve certainly earned your fee … or at least Rosie has, poor thing. I’ll go and write you a cheque at once.”
Rosie was feeling rather shaky, so after a couple of failed attempts to carry the tank back to the van, Marjorie provided them with a wheelbarrow, on top of which Roger laid a couple of planks before placing the now-heavy tank on top. It was a precarious journey back to the van – the wheelbarrow was in constant danger of tipping over – but somehow the tank was transferred safely into the back of the van with all of the leeches still inside.
Marjorie insisted on giving them a nice cup of tea, and she allowed Rosie to use her shower. As the water warmed her cold and aching body, Rosie slowly began to feel a little more alive, and a little of the colour (though not all of it) came back into her pale skin. At length, weary but at least steady on her feet, she towelled herself dry and went downstairs to rejoin Marjorie and her husband.
“Feeling better?” asked Marjorie.
“Much, thanks,” said Rosie with a smile. “Well, I suppose we’ve imposed on you enough. Thanks for the tea.”
“Don’t mention it!” said Marjorie. “Thank you for helping me with my leech problem!”
They left the house and drove off to a place a few miles away where there was a larger pond on public land. Nearby was a girls’ boarding school, and on warm summer afternoons and evenings the teenaged girls would often come down to the pond and swim, despite this being against the school rules. Today the pond was deserted, as it was currently the school’s half-term, so nobody witnessed Roger and Rosie dumping three thousand large medicinal leeches into its still waters.
As Rosie climbed into the passenger seat, Roger shuffled back to the water’s edge and pulled out of a large coat pocket the bag containing Rosie’s poo. Opening it up, he scooped a little pond water inside, then re-sealed the bag.
Returning home, they sneaked unseen back up to their flat, whereupon they jumped into bed together and made love for the next five minutes. Shortly after Roger pulled out of Rosie, a six-inch leech wormed its way out of her vagina. Roger put it in a jar of water.
There were a couple of messages on the answering machine, both concerning new jobs. Roger listened to them and then went back through to the bedroom, carrying the bag of Rosie’s poo, which had now absorbed all the pond water and was once again moist and squishy. “Busy day tomorrow,” he said to his beautiful young bride, pleased to see that she was still lying there with her legs spread, and a couple of cockroaches pushing their way into her vagina.
“Oh yes?” said Rosie. “What’s involved? Not more leeches, I hope!”
“Nope – a council flat with a major rat infestation, and another ‘ouse full of roaches.” He opened the top drawer of Rosie’s chest of drawers, and pulled out a pair of white silk panties. He tossed them to her and said, “’Ere, put these on.”
Puzzled, Rosie did so. “What have you got in mind, my darling?” she asked, eyeing the bag in Roger’s hand.
“Turn around and ‘old yer knickers open at the back,” said Roger.
Rosie did so, and then shivered as she felt the huge sticky mass of her poo slide into the back of her panties. It was cold, but it would soon warm up, and it felt strangely comforting.
“I fink,” said Roger, “that yer knickers should always ‘ave lots of shit in ‘em.”
“As you wish, my darling,” said Rosie. She smiled at him tenderly. “I love you Roger.”
“Yeah,” said Roger.
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