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author. codes: M+f+/ SM / humil / viol /
caution / anal / nc
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.
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The Curious Musings
of a
Fruit Fly
(An Erotic Horror Story)
by
Hunsi
(Bad Robot)
Book cover Picture
Click to meet the players
https://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/HumblePie/fly.jpg
Part I
The Curious Musings of a Fruit Fly
High atop a craggy mountain cliff in the Pyrénees,
an ages-old castle, shadowed over the villages below like a bird of prey
circling above with a cold eye set upon the weak and the weary and the walking
dead who’s bones where already set to be picked.
For the children who lived in the villages
below it was a thing of nightmares, ghostly, cold, a lair for monsters.
For their elders it was a source of constant
chatter about the whys and wherefores
and the wonder as to who, if anyone, had the cojones to set out to find answers to their questions.
Well, no matter your age or health or
strength of constitution, no one need question whether or not that great stone
edifice that sat atop the peaks stirred the imagination of all those in the
village below.
That would include myself
as well. Though I am small in stature,
and haven’t a voice to be heard, I am no less held captive by the myths and
mysteries that surround that ghostly edifice.
But unlike the others, it was not within me
to just let things be. I mean, I might not have a voice, but I have my wits and
I had to have my answers.
So given that I am young and endowed with
the spirit of adventure, I set out to explore the mystery, hitching a ride as I
did aboard a fruit cart where I joined my fellow fruit flies to feast upon the
succulent fruit destine to be sold at a market in Santos del Oro; The first and only town between me and that shadowy,
great stone edifice beyond.
It was but a small town, not much of
interest, though given that the sun was so warm and the fruit so ripe, myself and my fellow compatriot’s didn’t so much care. Or, more to the point, it wasn’t so much that
we didn’t care, as it was that by the time of our arrival we were already so
sauced on the fermenting fruit that not a one of us could fly a yard before
crashing head on into one thing or another.
Clearly, it was a very discomforting for me to
feel so discombobulated, especially a place I did not know. But then again, had I not been so out of my
element, I probably wouldn’t have run head long into the loveliest little thing
I’d ever seen.
The girl, so sweet, with a notable tear in
her eye, was in the process of being given her comeuppance by her aunty for
having taken it upon her own to stop licking the feet of a brown robed monastic
who went by the name of Grigori Nestor.
Needless to say I found the whole foot
licking thing rather disgusting, and
that’s saying a lot when you consider all of the foul places my proboscis has
been.
But then agrain,
who am I to say? I’m a voiceless,
scarcely visible entity anyway, and besides, as I heard no screaming or yelling
or tears being shed, I simple chalked it up as something in the way of an
established tradition among the devoted in Santos del Oro,
and just left it at that.
Then too, I simply felt I need hand it to
that little mite of a girl. It took a
lot of moxie to take a stand against the wrong headed thinking that past for
tradition in this screwy little village that had obviously gone off the wall.
Of course, I can’t say that with any
certainty that the aunty felt the same, but by the largeness of the smile upon
the face of that hunched over, crooked nose, ogre-like Abbot, Grigori Nestor, of Harvest Day Abby, I hadn’t a doubt
that it passed muster with flying colors.
So said and proved to be true when in a
minute more he rewarded that sweet little moppet with a smile & a
patronizing pat on the head as one would to show approval to a lower animal.
“There, there, not to worry my little
Sprite,” I heard him said as he pat her atop her head while handing her a
hankie to wipe the gunk from her mouth.
Then as she took hold of the kerchief with a
grimace, “Gertie,” he then said, “you know do you not
that the orphans that Sister Marguerite graciously shelters at the Abby don’t
so much mine. In fact, I’m told, they
are actually quick to avail themselves to the offering.”
Now, I can’t confess to knowing much about
what he was saying nor to that it was he might be inferring, but I did know
that her name set off the charm bells in my head.
‘Gertie,’ he had called her, and quite frankly, to
the delight of my ears.
“Gertie,” her aunty then followed, adding two fold to
my already state of bliss. “Will you
please thank abbot Nestor for looking so kindly upon you!”
“Gertie!” Mmm mmm good! Now, how sweet a name is that I ask you? Not only that, but she looked every bit a Gertie too.
Quite honestly, given her freckles &
pigtails & a pair of pretty little buck teeth, et al, she posed a figure
that was just too precious to not be charmed.
And I was, and I did find myself breathing in the sweet air about her,
just as I had when buzzing about that cartload of fruit that drove me and my
fellow fruit flies near mad with desire.
It all suited me so nicely. In fact, if truth be told, I wanted nothing
more than to be upon her person until old age brought my heart to a still.
But before that could ever come to be, I
knew I need first unravel the mystery surrounding her current circumstance.
And so to do so, I tucked backed my wings
and scurred down beneath the hem of the dreadfully
short, white linen chemise she wore, and then up past what scant scattering of
curls that sprang up here and there atop her mons de
pubis.
Of course, I don’t think I need say that I
found that pretty little groove a lovely place to settle in. But as the below deck view it had little to
offer in way of contact with the outside world,
I decided to carry on upward where I settled in nicely between a pair of
elfin-like knolls that sprout out from her
chest like tiny pink fruit.
I don’t think I need say how perfect was my view from atop.
Once more, it provided a perfect nesting place, where when hungry, all I
need do is suck up through my proboscis what sweet substance there be whenever
she sought the pleasures of one sort of succulent fruit or another.
So once settled in,
I turned my attentions back to the brown robed monastic who was currently in
the midst of explaining his reasoning as to why our sweet little damsel should
seek early admission to join his flock.
Only now it was a
far more assertive cleric that met my eyes.
While standing intrusively close in to her, he was stroking
his finger in & out of her tightly clenched lips as he continued on listing
all the reasons why joining his flock as early as possible would only serve her
well. That it’ll introduce her to new
people, new ideas, and help show her the way to living
a life of purpose though tightly clenched lips. : )
“That’s the way my
little strumpet. It’s just like sucking
on a bottle. It’s all about how tight
the pucker,” he said with a wink, “least you spill the milk, which is neither
good for the baby nor good for me.”
“Agreed?” He then
turned to ask Gertie's aunty who was standing close
in herself with a noddingly pleased look upon her
face.
“As you can see,
madam, the girls who live under our keep do learn more than just the alphabet
and learn to count to three.”
“Likewise you know
that the workings of a Sop are very much valued by the whole of our community,
and that once your Gertie learns the proper etiquette
to the satisfaction of all, she will live a life upon a golden road where she
need never have to beg for more again.”
“Oh, yes, thanks to
you Abbot Nestor,” she said, looking wholly appreciative. “Quite honestly, the very thought of leaving
this world to meet my maker without knowing what’s to happen to my much beloved
niece simply tears me apart.”
“But now, thanks to
you, I can now rest my head in peace.”
“So again, I thank
you for lifting that weight off my shoulders as you have.”
“Yes, well, I can
promise you that my fellow monastics as well as myself will do our best to keep her healthy and well
nourished.”
“But you must keep
in mind that the time will come when she need be weaned off the feeder. And in that regard I can assure you that we
will be just as quick to give your little bird the space to crawl out from
beneath the robes to spread her wings, and then fly away to find her own pond
to fish.”
“Now, with a rested
mind, I think it time that you take your Gertie home,
and I will see her again tomorrow if that’s right with you.”
-----
As Gertie & I & her auntie dearest set out to return
to her little cottage on Mulberrry lane, I stuck my
head out from my place of hiding between those two pretty pink fruit and looked
back to where Abbot Nestor stood watching us depart.
He was smiling &
waving, of course, but if I need be honest, I thought his smile looked a bit forced.
I say that because
he looked a bit pained & sore.
Especially, around that place beneath his robe where earlier on, he had
ask Gretie to pay homage, and now feeling the stiffness,
was energetically rubbing his swollen self down with her clinch fist to reduce
the inflammation.
“Humans,” I thought
to myself, while shaking my head. What
strange creatures they are. And if you
or I had any lingering doubts about that, all one need do is set your eyes upon
the white robed, Sister Monica, who was walking up behind the madly stroking
& hyperventilating, Abbot Nestor.
On her face a scowl,
in her hand, a black braided leather carriage whip which she used to give him a
good whack upon the back.
“God damn it, you
bitch,” he snarled out in agony. “You got more hair upon your balls then I do!”
“Yeah, you think me
a bitch now, do you? You just wait until
I get you inside.”
----
Huh! Well, say what you may about my
eavesdropping, it was a conniving thing for an honorable Drosophila melanogaster such as myself to do, that I know.
Still, I did learn
all I need know about that dastardly evil man, who under the guise of a holy man, spoke charity, but harbored deceit. None of which bode well for Gertie’s future days.
Nonetheless, to me,
leaving things as they were would be no less evil, and if any man or Fruit fly
such as myself thought otherwise, they would be no less the wrongdoer.
But then again, what
exactly was it that I could do? I mean,
it wasn’t as though I was a micrometer larger than a Gnat, and that’s pretty
damn small, right? So now ask yourself,
how many Gnats have you seen leading the charge across the battle field?
Well, if you haven’t
ventured a guess by now, then I’ll tell you.
None, zero, zilch, and that’s not many.
Still, I felt I had no choice. To
me it was do what I could, or die from a broken heart.
So tying my fate to
hers, I promised myself that I’d remain forever on the look out for some sort of
means of intervention whether they were destine to come my way or not.
----
Chap 2
That night, while Gertie and I were asleep on the cot she shared with her
aunty, we were suddenly awakened to the sound of a shrill voice and the ashen
white face of the dear elderly woman who looked already dead to this world.
“Aunt!” Gertie
screamed. “What’s wrong, what’s wrong?”
“Gertie,
my dear child, I’m sorry but I fear my time has come. I’m on my way to meet my maker and your
dearly departed mother once again.”
“Aunty! No, no, no, please don’t leave me,” she
cried, shedding buckets of tears while embracing her aunty dearly.
“I’m sorry, but as I
leave you in good hands, I fear not for you.
Just promise me the moment I take my last breath, you will run, not
walk, to the gates of ‘Harvest Day Abby’, where the saintly brothers
will feed you and care for you and make sure you grow up doing the right
thing.”
“You understand me, Gertie,” she then asked as she lay her head back upon the pillow
and closed her eyes and took her last breath.
“No, no, I won’t let
you go, I won’t, I’ll go find help,” she cried, and then to my fruit fly
distressed heart, she stood up and ran out the door and onto the cobblestone
lane wearing not but a tiny, gossamer thin nightie,
that now, soaked by her tears, provided me with about as much cover as a pane
of glass.
“Ok, ok,” I hear you
say, “big deal, what’s she got to show anyway?”
Well, we all know
the answer to that. Not much! But that wasn’t what worried me, whereas my
exposure to the outside world did. In
truth I was already struck with such a fright that I felt as if I were dead
already.
So, shaking in
fright, I did what any fruit fly would do. I spread my wings, and ‘flew’
for it! And I mean pronto, buzzing off
as I did to the only place I could find to hide and still be close to Gertie. Inside her
ear!
Of course, as you
might assume, the space within tended to be a tad bit loud, like a ring of a
bell sort of loud, but if you don’t so much mind the reverberations & the
taste of wax, well, it was a pretty damn good hole in the wall to hide away in.
Well, not wholly, of
course, but it did ease my mind a degree or two past panic, something I was
sorely in need of to help calm my heart.
And ever more so when Gertie ran out the door
and onto the cobblestone lane where she ran head on into arms of Constable
Ramos who was out walking his beat.
“Whoa, whoa little
lady, what is it that has happened to you, hum?
You fall out of bed, or something?”
“It’s my auntie, my
auntie, come quick,” she managed to say through her deluge of tears.
“Why, what’s
happened, she shit the bed or something?”
“No, she said she
was dying.”
“Well bless her
soul. The old hag is giving herself up,
cashing in her chips, leaving the likes of you to me. And from all I can see, not a moment too
soon,” he said to Gertie as he pinched & pull
upon that perky little knolls upon which I had taken shelter.
Lucky I jumped out
of the way in time to avoid being squashed, just as I was lucky when a moment
later, he meanly poked his finger into her belly to test her metal, and then up
her fanny to test her resilience.
Then after noting
how well the metrics met up to his expectancy . . .
“Yes, yes, you’ll do
just fine. No, better than fine. “Actually, I think of you as I would a prize,
although you’re not one to be given away.
No, no-no, I’ll thinking like the shopkeeper who has a sweet chicken to
sell to those who can afford to pay for the bird by the pound.”
It was then that he
heard a whistle. Looking up, he saw Constable
Renard who on his way home after completing his
nightly beat.
“Ha-ya, Ramos,” he said upon his approach, “What’cha
got there?”
“Chicken!” Constable Ramos replied in a loudly
aggressive manner, that to me, residing inside her ear as I was,
sounded nothing less than a mind numbing cannon shot ping-ponged
back and forth inside my head.
Nonetheless, deeming
it necessary that I stay put to see what the policeman was up to with regard to
his interest in my Gertie, I remained plug in just
the same.
And, I dare say, it
didn’t take me long to find out what that was . . .
“Looks delicious,
care to share?” he soon followed, them much to my dismay, he too reached out
and pinched & pull upon her nipples causing her to grimace in pain &
discomfort.
“Ya,
what you got to share?”
“About 10 &1/4 inches,” he replied, and I wince, knowing
now that I was right to keep my proboscis sniffing the air around this utterly
rancid fellow.”
“Yah, well that’s
close enough. By the way, who can I
expect to see you serving up the as hors d'oeuvres at the card game tomorrow
night?”
“Yeah, sure, that'd
be Millie.”
“Millie, not Lucy?”
“No, we’ve been
working on that little snatch of hers, and she is now up to serving up the carrets & cucumbers, and still have
room to pop out the apples.”
“Well, hell, it's kind of hard to beat that.”
“Yeah, well, that's
why she's become our number one go to girl.
You just set her down atop the table, tie her ankles back behind her
head, and then stuff in however many veggies or gerbils or cocks as you like.”
“Although, by the looks of this bitty bug you have here, I shouldn’t think she’ll remain our number one go to snatch for long.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah, I can see
her now mounted upon the turnstile with her feet tied back behind her head while
a cock or three at a time work to transform this little bird into the highest
earning, half-penny a shot whore we’ve ever had around here.”
Well there you have
it, my worst fears come true. That
unlike me, your common, everyday FruitFly, the
community of man has advance not an inch further along the evolutionary path
than your common, everyday, reptile with whom they shared a likeness.
That is, they both
share the same cold heart, possess the same eat all, take all mentality, and
both occupy a space where such noble goals as love & mercy, and to serve
& protect, had no more meaning than did the words, ‘share in the kill!’
Still, as I had
promised myself that I’d remain forever on the lookout for ways I might be able
to save her from harm, I stood my ground, even when sheltered within her ear,
nor even knowing how in the hell I was supposed to do that.
“Damn,” I cursed
myself, “stupid you! Or
more accurately, how lucky I was that the almighty Fruitfly
who lived in the heavens above had yet to come down upon me for your being the
dumbest damn Fruitfly on the planet.
It was enough to
make me wish I'd never left home in the first place, and it was at that moment,
while I wallowed deeply in my gloom that Constable Ramos & Renard began to exact their worse.
They pinched, they pulled, they jabbed, oh my, it was all so hideous, so cruel. So much so that I could no longer bear it, and that’s when I saw it – A public announcement in the form of a handbill that Constable Ramos & others had been asked to post here and there along their route in the name of charity.
The hand bill, as it
read, called upon one & all to come and watch Gertie
Willowby, a superb athlete & woman of charity,
run the distance to
All well and good,
but what truly captured my attention were the words that headlined the public proclamation;
“Run, Gertie, Run.”
“Yes, yes,” I thought to myself. Like the Gertie who ran for the sake of charity, our Gertie, our newly orphaned Gertie, had to run as well, only she had to run for her life!
But again, how was I
to tell her that?
Well, I’ll tell you. I’m going to fly into the eye of Constable Ramos, and then in effort to swat me away, he’ll also will unwittingly show her the “Run Gertie, Run,” that was written atop that handbill. Clever, no?
And that’s exactly
as I had planned it, and that’s exactly what our Gertie
did.
She ran like the
wind, naked through the streets, with the two crazed, wanton & abominably cruel
Constable’s following in her tracks, while yelling out every obscene word known
to man.
That is until our Gertie reached the byway upon which her destination was to
be found. And that was also the place where
the two Constable’s, Ramos & Renard, who were in
hot pursuit spotted a horse drawn Brougham coach parked in front of the ‘First
Light Abby.’
Skidding to a stop,
the two Johndarm’s stood and watched and laughed at the
flailing, fully crazed, naked girl who looked to be so out of her mind with
fright, that barring the ground opening up beneath her feet, looked to run head
long in to it.
“Knock yourself out, girl,” Constable Ramos laughed heartedly. “It ain’t going to
help you none, no way, you little tart.
My Billy is going up that puss of yours, regardless.”
“Ánd
all of mine up your ass to make a cosy for my 10
inches,” Ramos then said, while holding his side with laughter.
Only that cry of
laughter lasted only up to the moment they saw who it was stepping out of the
coach!
There to accompany
his wife to evening prayer, the chief of police stepped out the cabin with eyes
aflame and and his fist shaking wildly above.
“You bastards!
I
can neither believe my ears nor my eyes.
You, gentlman, are scum! Not fit to wear that badge. I will see too it that the both of you are jailed,
imprisoned, and left to rot,” he spoke bitterly, angrily, while his wife,
standing alongside him, was there to catch our screaming, crying, hard charging
Gertie. Then while
smiling & shedding a tear for her, she drew our Gertie
in and hugged her tightly to her breast . . .
---
Well, my dear readers,
as you can see, not all tales of evil end with a broken heart. There are those who do come through
unscathed, or atleast still have the strength to
recover their live, as did my Gertie. The truth is, she
came to have a very long & happy life with five children and 7
grandchildren of her own.
Although I was not
there to help as I would have liked to, I did have quite the excellent view
from up here in the heavens. Still, a day
does not pass that I do not lament the fact that a FruitFly’s
days on the planet are numbered in weeks, and not years, as they are for a bipedal
such as you.
And that I very much
do regret, as I wish so much that I too could have been there beside her to
bask in the joy . . .
Das Ende,
by
Hunsi
-------
§ § § -------
