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author. codes: M+f/ humil / caution /
anal
WARNING: This story delves into aberrant sex
practices that might well offend you. If so, please leave. Some of
the sex depicted is consensual, some not. I don't condone it. I'm
not advocating it. I may or may not even like it. It's simply a
fantasy, a product of my imagination, and thus, completely fictitious. Peace, brothers
& sisters.
Before you read it, please note the following:
*If you are under
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The Little House of Whores
(An Erotic Horror Story)
by
Bad
Robot
(aka Hunsi)
Book cover Picture
Click to meet the players
https://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/HumblePie/whores.jpg
Part I
Walking along the stretch of rail that ran
between Tappen and Baldwin, Rudy Dudley was counting
the ties while intermittently moistening his heat parched lips from the bottle
of Pear Ripple he held clutched to his chest.
Walking the 10 mile stretch between towns
beneath the blazing mid-day July sun was something no man would wish upon his
worst enemy. And topping that infamous list was none other than Deputy Black
Crow, a Native American Indian and jailhouse turn key who was among other
things, a power drunk pain in the ass who rubbed Rudy raw.
Not
that it matter an iota to that big, bad, injun who really hadn’t all
that much to say. Instead, whenever asked how the law and order business was
going, he’d just point to the eagle feathered tomahawk he had mounted on his
office door, then at the list of names that hung below it as if taking an
accounting of the scalps he’d taken.
So, yeah, there wasn’t a whole lot to like
about that injun cop. But the lockup itself, well
now, that was another matter. The jailhouse in Tappen
was new and modern with comfortable bunks, and had an air conditioning system
that damn near made the months stay behind bars well worth it. Especially on a
sweltering hot mid-July day like today, and specifically for a penniless bum
like him who hadn’t the means to escape from under it.
But then again, that’s what comes when you ain’t got room in your life for rules and regulations and
kowtowing to the bossman whoever he may be. Be it a
Jack, flipping jacks in ‘Jack’s Coffee shop’ who is looking to hire if you’re
willing to sell your soul, or to no injun cop who has
a nice cool air conditioned cell to offer, if you’re willing to lick that red
man’s balls!
(That’s figuratively speaking,
of course. I mean, what the hell do I know. It could
have been a good ear tonguing he wanted, cuz, well,
you know, maybe that’s the kind of thing that floats his boat:)
Anyway, despite all that, he still found
himself wishing he had done just that, or whatever else need be done just to
get that scalp taking turnkey to keep him locked-up in that air conditioned
cell for just one more day.
But, then again, a fella
does have his pride and all, and he wasn’t about to be doing no kowtowing.
No sir, he certainly wasn’t going to be doing
none of that. And as he wouldn’t, and didn’t, the next day we
find a prideful but regretful, Rudy Dudley, walking that stretch of tracks and
cursing up a storm.
“Damn you, Rudy,” he cursed himself, “you
should have asked, you should have begged, you should have faked an excuse,
something, anything to get out from under this fucking heat,” he said to
himself while stepping largely from tie to tie, and not doing so much thinking,
or looking as to where exactly it was he was stepping.
"Oh, fuck," he angrily grit his teeth in pain. “Mother fuck, mother fuck,” he
wailed and danced about on one leg while holding up the other to get to that
sharp, serrated rock that had penetrated his foot through the hole in the sole
of of his shoe.
Thankfully, for all the hurt that bastard of a
rock caused him, he did manage to survive the attack of that killer shard of
Basalt, though he did suffer the trauma of an extremely painful hot foot for
quite some time afterward.
All bad enough,
right? I mean how much
torment can you expect one man to endure and still be standing, or limping or
hopping about on one foot and still not lose it?
Well, if you should be asking, I’ll tell you.
It was what he saw when he looked up and off into the distance in the direction
he was going.
There, just off the horizon, he saw an
undulating, vaporous column of super heated air rising up and over where he
knew the town of
But this wasn’t the
The apocalyptic-like sight was enough to
unravel any man, and Rudy Dudley was no exception. That’s why the bottle of
Ripple, and that’s why he took that moment to stop to wipe his brow and take
his final swig of that rot gut wine.
"Bye, baby," he said, near
mournfully, as he tipped the bottle up high to gulp it down. And that was when
he first spotted the small pink blotch of pink filtering through the wine
bottle bottom.
Then after tossing the empty bottle away, he
shaded his eyes and looked off into the distant where he had spotted that small
blotch of pink and saw that it was still there, peeking out through a curtained
farmhouse window.
‘Hum, Interesting,’ he murmured. ‘I guess my
magneto must have set some poor ladies Geiger counter off. No doubt, some
lonely hot-to-trot looking on hopefully.’
‘So Whatcha think,
big fella,’ he asked himself. ‘We wouldn’t want to
disappoint now would we,” he then answered in behalf of himself. Though
wincing, as the hot foot still had him hopping and the blazing sun still had
him praying for relief. And that’s the promise that blotch of pink off into the
distance had to offer. Relief!
Relief from the
suppressive heat, and with a little love and tenderness, hopefully relief from
the pain. And just the promise of such had him shining
bright as he affected to slick back his hair, spit shine his face and set
himself back to order without even bothering to ask himself, what person, what
woman, would even want to be in the presence of the likes like him. A bum, a
hobo, yet still a man, he didn’t even stop to wonder whether she was just out
shopping or whether he was really wanting.
---
Chapter I
So now our show begins . . .
In short order, Rudy Dudley set out to walk the
added distance to see who it was he’d seen behind that curtained farmhouse
window.
But when he got there and was actually fronting
the window, he saw that other than the fluttering white curtains, there was no
pink to be seen. That is, other than the pink of walls and bedding inside, and a pink naked doll perch atop the sill.
"Hello," Rudy called out, “Is anyone
home? My name is Rudy Dudley and I was just passing by and thought to stop and
ask whether you might have a little something to offer a walking man who is as
parched as a desert dingo."
It was then that he saw a face of a girl, a
young one, who had heretofore been in hiding behind the curtain.
"Well, hello there – ahhh, girlie?” he waffled,
seemingly caught off stride by what he saw.
“Is your mama home?" He then thought to
ask, though from the looks of her he could tell that she was pretty much ill
kept at best.
In fact, everything about her made her look a
stray. From her smudged, dirty face, to the rather well worn and tired-looking
Daisy-print cami, that if worn to provide a decent
sense of cover, failed miserably when it came to the knolls that sprout out
from her chest like tiny pink fruit.
Still, be that as it may, it was the pair of
boy’s ‘quick draw’, open fly underpants that truly made her look the odd one
out.
As to the whys and wherefores is anyone's guess
if you are guessing kind. If you’re not, or like me, a guy who is always looking
for the upside even in the worst of disasters, then you gotta
be just as quick to point out that at least those boy underpants she wore were
crisp and clean, and as yet, showed not a sign of her trying to pee standing
up!
It’s but a small grace, I know, but nothing to
scare off a walking man with a lame foot and a swollen, parched dry tongue that
was on the verge of choking off his breath.
No, sir, not me. I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, leastwise not before
that horse leads me to the water.
“Hey, girl, you going to get me something to
drink or do I have to give you up, and tell the world you got yourself a weenie
hiding inside them draws?”
It took but a second more to send her running
off to open the front door to let me in. Then taking my cue, I followed suit,
running around to the other side of the old farm house and stepped up on the
front porch just as she opened the front door with a sippy-cup
in hand.
“What the hell it that, kid? I said I’m dry, on
empty, can’t even spit, and you hand me that?”
“Now look, what I want you to do is go back,
find you a bucket, or pitcher or a freaking barrel if you got one, and fill
that fucker up. Got me? Good, now you git .
. .”
. . .Tick-tock, tick-tock, the times passes,
and a half hour later we find a thoroughly satiated Rudy sitting on the floor
with his back pressed to the wall, and our speechless little dispatch dressed
in boy’s BVD’s looking on in awe . . .
“So, what’s your name, girl,” he finally got
around to asking after a rip-roaring belch.
“Lily,” she finally got around to say.
“Hum, well, I’ve just been itching to ask why
you be wearing them boy’s underpants?”
“They aren’t boy’s undies,”
she said defiantly, “they’re mine.” My mama gave them to me and she says so,
Mister drink-like-a-pig!”
“I told you I was thirsty,” he said, holding up
an empty gallon jug.
“Duh, tell me about it, Mr. piggy,”
she said while snorting and making a scrunched-up goofy face.
“Yeah, well, make faces if you want, but that’s
my story and I’m holding to it. But you . . .
“Well, damn, what can I say.
You ain’t no boy, you don’t
look pretty in them, and you ain’t never going to be
pissing standing up.”
“And that’s it, that’s the truth, and that’s
all I got to say about that! Except, maybe, I think I be needing a pot to piss
in myself pretty damn quick or I’ll be pissing on the floor. So,
if you would kindly show me the way to the pisser, and quickly, I’d be much
obliged.”
---
After fulling the pot
to near over flowing he again stepped out the bathroom to rejoin her only to
find her gone.
As to where it was she’d gone he didn’t know,
but then he really didn’t so much care. This was after all an opportunity to
explore, and find out more about the occupants of this
So, not being one to to
let opportunity pass, he opened the door to the room across the hall and
entered what was obviously Lily’s mom’s room. Something that he was soon able to verify the
moment he discovered her work uniform hanging in her closet.
The uniform, white with peppermint stripping,
came complete with a name tag pinned to her lapel, and the name Mel’s, as in
Mel’s Coffee Shop stitched on beneath.
“Is this your moms? He asked rhetorically, as
Lily walked in.
“Yes, sir,” she nodded, while pointing to the
name tag. “See there, Ginger, that’s her name.”
“Yipe, I see that.
Now I know there you got your carrot colored hair.”
---
An hour or so later I was back on the rails in
hopes of reaching the railroad yards just outside
“Hey, boys,” I yelled out as I slid down the
embankment that landed me square beneath the trestle
where our encampment was hidden. “Hope you saved me some of them pork
& beams I be smelling.”
“Hey, Rudy, you’re back.”
“Yeah, sure, of course, the law ain’t changed. You get yourself caught snatching a bottle
of wine from Moe’s Liquors, you get your 30 days, and
720 hours later you’re sitting by the fire smelling them beams.”
Yipe, that’s true,” Scooter laughed, “That is, if you can keep that badass
Injun cop from taking your scalp.”
“Hey Rudy,” Jack cut in to add his two cents
worth. “You heard what happened to Murph, today?”
“Nope, but I’m suspecting you’re about to tell
me.”
“Sure am. I mean, when a fella
has luck like that, it’s just got to be told.”
“Well, do tell.”
“Yeah, well, you see, he was he was up there in
the yards watching them unload the freight from the cars when the fork lift
driver cut the turn too tight and tossed a pallet load of Ripple over the side
of the dock. That’s 180 cases of wine, smash and ruined, leastwise for retail,
but apparently made for pretty good write-off.”
“Yeah, so what happened,” Rudy laughed, while
Murphy picked up and toss a bottle his way.
“What happened? I’ll tell you what happened. We
got us 8 free cases of label damaged wine, that’s what we got us, so drink up,
buddy.”
The laughter nearly shook the ground beneath
their encampment, and lasted until Rudy had chugged down the whole bottle, and
then after wiping his mouth dry with the back of his hand, he somehow managed
to say. “You know,” he said with a belch, “Something funny happened to me today
too.”
“Yeah,” Murph asks?
“Yeah,” Rudy replied. “On my way back home,
near where the S & F line has got themselves that turn spur, I spotted
somebody watching me walk the stretch from a farmhouse nearby.
“Of course, you know me. The nosy son of a
bitch that I am, I just had to have a look. And when I took a peak down that
rabbit hole, what do you think I saw?”
“The queen of hearts,” Murphy chuckled as he
tossed his empty bottle into the fire. Nope! A closer guess would have been
that crazy rabbit.”
“A pretty little one though,” he then said on
the side, “but sure as shit, she was crazy as a loon.”
“I telling you, you had to be there to see, to
it believe. She wears boy’s underpants, for heavens sake.”
“Yeah, so, big deal,” Murphy was quick to his
opinion known. “That old lady who lives in that Air Jet Trailer over by Rocky
Point has got all of her grand kids wearing them.”
“No, this is different, Murph.
I asked her why she’d even want to wearing them drooping, sagging, misfit undies when all she do all day is keep pulling them up or
show every nook & cranny on her naked butt. And you want to know what she
said?
“Yeah, what?”
“She said, so what.”
“So what, what?”
“So what, it don’t
matter. According to her, if they don’t
fall down on their own, someone or another would be pulling them down and poking
around every nook & cranny anyway.’
"Yeah?"
“Yeah! Then said she didn't care no ways cuz
her mama, or her uncles, or the man who gave them to her, were going to be
playing poke-around with my butt anyways.”
“She said that?”
“Yup!”
“Well, ain’t that
some shit,” Murph said, shaking his head.
“Yeah, well, probably that too.”
“Damn, Rudy, it sounds like you found yourself
a genuine Dakota kid wacko. There's a lot of them
around these parts. Boy’s who wanting to smoke that marriage-a-wanna, and girls who be wishing they had a dong to swing.”
“Now, don’t go getting me wrong or nothing, cuz I’m hardly the one pass judgement
on anyone. It’s that I got this picture fixed in my mind of a girl with a dong.
Damn! Well, I can't blame you wanting to put a stop to that!”
“Yeah, well, first you’re going to have to get
it across to her that no matter her want, there ain’t
no way she’s ever going to piss standing up.”
“By the way, does anyone know where a fellow
can find a place called Mel’s Coffee Shop?”
“Ain’t that the place
over on
“Yeah, yeah, that’s it, I’m sure of it,” Murphy
said. “Can’t forget a place where the ladies serving the counter are hotter
than the flap Jacks.”
---
Twenty-four hours later . . .
Rudy look down upon his stack of cake, and then
up at the sign on the wall that read:
----------------------
Eat well!
The jacks will fill your belly.
Tip well!
And
the hostess with the mostess will fill your hunger.
------------------------
“Ah, pardon me, Miss, but what does that mean?”
he asked the lady who was of refreshing his cup of coffee.
“It means I get off at one! If you’re interest, no
checks, no credit cards.”
“Ooh!” Well, thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,”
he replied, getting the message load & clear. “Oh, and by the way, the
stack of jacks was pretty damn good.
“You don’t even know how good a stack of jacks
can taste, baby, until you’ve tasted mine.”
“How much?”
“A hundred without
the frills, and in your car, not my home.”
“Hum, well, I’ll check my calendar,” I said as
I departed the coffee shop, but not before taking note of her name tag. Ginger!
Lily’s mother and waitress, and it would seem a whore
as well! A woman on the make who’s running list of ‘Johns,’ Dicks and Harry’s
were undoubtedly the source of her daughter Lily’s supply of men’s underpants.
Or, dare I say, the source of the men’s
cum-soaked drawers that she’d happily strut about in. Be it up and down the
halls, in her bedroom or her mother’s, or in the bathroom where one or another
of mother’s Johns, or Jacks, or Harry’s who frequented the place would stand
before the toilet and fist, jerk, and shake off the remaining droplets of piss
while she looked on with eyes a sparkle, and the shortened breath of longing
and envy.
Then after, when done, and their eyes again met
up, he could near see the yearning in her eyes, wishing for herself the ability
to piss standing up.
Well, there you have it, the long and the short
of it, and I think was all agree that our little sop has a bit of a hitch in
her giddy-up, but then again, who doesn’t, right?
I know I have mine, and clearly, Lily has hers.
Everyone reading this knows it, just as Rudy knew it. In fact, the truth is
Rudy would have liked nothing more than to give her a good slap-and-a-shaking
wake up call, but instead chose to stand on the sidelines and wait for her
mother to come to her senses and do the right thing.
But as hope and 5 cent won’t buy you a cup of
coffee, there wasn’t much chance of her doing the right thing. She was just too
fucked up herself too know right from wrong, good from bad, and what’s sane and
what’s out of your fucking mind - Bitch!
Sorry for the outburst. It’s not like me to be
so loose with my tongue. But sometimes that which need be said, need be said.
Ginger Bottoms was one sorry excuse for a
mother, but more odiously, she was a whore that no man in his right mind would
want to have anything to do with, especially guys like me, who had his bottle
of Ripple to wash away the pain & discord of daily life without all the
accompanying madness.
Of course, that didn’t mean he could just tip the
bottle and snap his fingers and all the horror, and whore,
that was Ginger would simply go away. There was still Lily, after all,
and the thought of Ginger getting away with treating her daughter as she did,
didn’t set well with him at all. No sir, not at all. If anything, the very
thought creeped him out to a horrifying degree.
In fact, he felt so discomforted by the whole
ugly scene, that he thought it better he stay close and try to find a way to
get her to stop wallowing in the grime.
So with that in mind, he took it upon himself
to visit and explain to her what was up and what was
not with him.
And what do think he found when he got there?
I’ll tell you.
He found a bare ass Lily ‘pegged’ to the lap of one
Jumbo Grimes!
Jumbo, like his name, was a ton of lard, triple
chinned, Jabba the Hutt
look alike and commercial TV entity who sold on screen everything from used
cars to snake oil, while doubling as a TV spokesman for a local children's
petting zoo.
It was an odd pairing to be sure, and more than
just a few parents felt their skin crawl when watching the TV show from home,
they saw that ugly as sin monstrosity hugging their kids on the home screen.
But as bad as that was, the revulsion they felt
down to their bones was nothing when compared to the horror that consumed them
whole when he then stooped to free up a pack of wiener dogs from a cage near
by.
Then once surrounded by that lively pack of weeny dogs, he told his little covey of friends to pick one
out and be nice, and kindly 'stroke' the hyper-excited and thoroughly aroused,
leg humping wieners of their choosing.
“Stroke! Yes, you heard that right. Stroke, was his word of choice, not pet,
and then for sake of clarity he even thought to demonstrate what it was he was
asking of them with his fisted, jerking, balled up hand.
Of course, getting things up to speed at that
age does take some doing, but when they finally got things up to
speed, those little wiener dogs were pretty damn pleased, whining and yapping and squirting whatever it is that
those leg humping wiener dogs squirt to the horror of all those watching, and
to the delight on that monster of a man.
Well, so much for his explaining to Ginger what
was up and what was not with him. I mean, what could he say, what could he do
to put an end to that insane cackling laughter of hers that filled the room as
she watched Jumbo Grimes on the telly put on a must
unusual show, while rubbing up against her daughter and combing her fingers
through her hair like a most caring mother.
So I hear you ask: What is it he could say?
What was it he could do?
And I’m here to tell you: Nothing! Not
any more. The point of no return had come!
“Ginger! You Fucking
piece of shit!” He spat venomously, then muscled up and struck her on the back
of her head with the flat of his hand. Pow!
The force of the blow sent her stumbling and falling forward until she
collapsed to the floor like a punctured balloon.
Believing Ginger to be stone cold out of it, he
reached out and took hold of Lily’s hand to take her with him out the door to a
place where she could be kept save.
At least that was his plan, but before he could
reach the door he heard a shuffling sound coming from behind. Turning about to
see what it was . . . Boom! The lights
went out.
---
It took quite some time for him to again find
his focus, and thus, figure out who he was, and where he was, and why it was
that when he withdrew his hand from the back of his head, he spotted blood. But
beyond that, the whole of his circumstance was still remained a jumble of
untied ends.
That is, save one, the clear and distinct image
of a red Terracotta flower pot that was still spinning around and around in his
head. The pot, replete with cactus flower, he hadn’t seen before, but knew it
well now. Just as he did the look of anger on Ginger’s face the moment it came
crashing down upon his skull.
That was the last he was to see of her, but not
the last he was to hear about her, or what she did, or where she ran when she
left the house screaming and crying and looking for help. Looking for the law
to protect her from me - murderous me!
“Yes, that’s right, murderous me! Or so her
screaming indictment of my guilt would seem to indicate.
But the voice of a screaming woman,
be she a women of good standing in the community or a common whore, her voice
only carries so far, whereas the voice of a lawman is an entirely different
matter. It counts, it matters, it’s reason enough to
get yourself cuffed, thrown into the backseat of a patrol car and hauled off to
jail to plead your innocents.
“And for what . . . what did I do?” I said,
pleading my case to that war paint wearing, tomahawk slinging injun, who after cuffing my wrist, grabbed hold of a
handful my hair, looked me in eye, and ran his finger across his throat in way
of a warning to me that I best not cause him no trouble.
“I don’t get it, chief,” I said to him. “She’s
a low-life, a whore, and even worse, she pimps out her daughter just for the
fun of it. To call her anything less than a monster would be to cheat out of
what she is due.
“And me, a guy who ain’t done shit, and you’re looking to take my scalp. Fuck! And you ask me why I drink my ripple.”
“Oh well, there ain’t
no use bitching about it now. Besides, that jail house you got has one mighty
fine air conditioner, I can’t do no complaining about that.”
On that, Deputy Chief, Joseph Black Crow,
cracked a bit of a smile. Then after re-holstering his Tomahawk back in beneath
his belt, he open the rear door of the old black and white and stuffed me in.
“You hungry,” he then asked Rudy before closing
the door.
“Hell yah, I haven’t had me a bite all day. Why you asking?”
“Cause I’m stopping to get me something to eat, and I can’t leave you out here to roast in this car.”
“Okay, sure,” Rudy shrugged, but as he was not
one to leave it at that, “Hey Chief, out of curiosity, I was just wondering how
you like your chicken? Crispy or extra-crispy?”
“Nah, neither,” that badass injun
relied. “I like my white chicken tender and sweet.”
“Huh, you don’t say,” Rudy replied not knowing
what else to say. That is until it occurred to him . . .
"You know, Chief, I think this might be
the beginning of a beautiful friendship !!!!
---
Das ende.
by Bad Robot
aka Hunsi
------- § § § -------
