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SM / humil / viol / caution / anal / nc
WARNING: This story delves into aberrant sex practices. 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.
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Tito's
Corral del Pollo
(The Chicken Pen)
(An Erotic Horror Story)
by
Bad Robot
Book cover
Picture
Click Asstr link below to meet the players
https://www.asstr.org/files/Authors/HumblePie/Pics/pollo.jpg
Chapter 1
Life is but a Dream . . .
“I swear, Kelly, I've had it," Didi flaired, waving her fist about like a petulant child. "If that bastard ever threatens me
again, I'm out of here.”
“Oh, Didi,” Kelly sighed, “I know your dad
can be a bit hardheaded sometimes, but gee-whiz, all you’re doing is throwing
gas on the fire.”
"What’s that?” Hailey said,
imposing herself into the discussion on the pass-by. “Did I just hear you say Didi
was going to set someone on fire?”
“Go away Hailey, I’m talking to Didi, not
you.”
"Oh, so it’s secret telling time is it, Miss Uppity? Just because you two made cheer squad doesn’t
mean you can just push me off, you know.”
"Stop that, Hailey," Kelly replied, “you're just being mean. Didi has a right to her feelings.”
"Okay, I'm all ears, tell me.”
"Didi’s father slapped her, and grounded
her," Kelly huffed, sounding fit to be tied. "He said he saw her with Marco in front
of
Tribeca Records on
"Oh, do tell. I can hear it
all now. Little Miss Didi
Harrison was out on the town making a show of herself dressed in that
itty-bitty Junior Pom-Squad skirt, and Mister Hands
was all over her. His hands pawing on
her like a blind man looking for something to hold on to.”
"You were there?" Kelly gasped.
"Was I there? No, I wasn’t
there you blabbering twit! I just know
Mister Hands. I can just see Little Miss
Harrison smashed up against the wall with Mister Hands sucking on her face
while squeezing her tits. It must have
made quite a show.”
"Yes, it was a show, and I don’t care!” Didi
blurt out truculently. “But that doesn't
give my father the right to go wild on me."
"Oh, listen to you, Miss Hotty. You think just because you’ve got the hooties that leave boys slobbering, you think you're big
enough to stand up to your dad? Walk out
on him, fend for yourself when you still need someone to warm your milk before
bedtime?”
"Screw you, Kelly! I don't
care what you say,” Didi bitterly spat out. “If he gets in my face again, I’m not going
to stop to collect shit from the banker when I pass ‘GO.’ No- siree! I’m hoofing it right out the door!
“Now, if you’ll kindly get out of my face, I’ve got practice in five
minutes.”
----
“Didi, get your ass down here now,” her
father, Malcolm Harrison, shouted out from the bottom of the stairs, sounding
thoroughly pissed.
“What did I tell you lil’miss?” he said with
a snarl, his face as fiery red as her flaming red hair. “Look at me, li’l
Red, didn’t I say if I saw you wearing that near microscopic pom-pom skirt
outside of school again I was going to burn the damn thing?”
“Yeah, well, I guess,” she replied, toning it down a notch in effort to
quell the passions.
“You guess? Okay little Miss
Attitude, I guess it’ll be me you see dousing that whore-rag with lighter fluid
and burning it in the sink. Now, get
your ass in the kitchen and say your goodbye to that invite-to-rape because
it’s about to go up in flames.”
“Daddy, don’t you dare,” she warned with her hands on her hips, staring
daggers. If you touch that skirt, or me,
you can count me out of here.”
“Oh yeah? Well shit!
If I thought that possible, I might even consider saving the ashes in a
jar to put on the mantle. You know, something to pay tribute to when I’m watching a horror
movie on the telly.
I’ll call them the ashes that saved me from this hell.”
That night, in tears, Didi Harrison quietly
crept across the family room where the jar of ashes sat upon the mantle. She stopped for but a moment to look. Then with her nerves steeled, she turned and
walked out the door to the rumbling sound of her father’s snoring.
---
Chapter 2
“♫ She’s leaving home,
bye-bye . . . ♫”
At
Of course, where the bus was going to, or coming from, matter not to
our young protagonist. As out of balance
as the world appeared to her now, to expect her to stop and think things out
would’ve been a far leap for any adolescent, much less one blinded by rage.
Still, the weight of it all bore down upon her like an invisible hand
holding her steady, on route, away from all she’d ever known.
From Dyker to Flatbush to Tribeca,
the whole of her known world, or, at least the world she thought she knew. Something that came into doubt the moment she
stepped off the bus at the transit hub on
From the winos and junkies hunched up against the crumbling brownstone
walls, to the filth and debris that cluttered her way. But she hadn’t the mind to think about all
that. Not now, perhaps not ever, as the
alternative was far more ruinous than just stepping over, or walking around,
the piles of waste scattered about on the walk.
Of course, the whole of the street wasn’t as bleak. In fact, just a few blocks further on the
foulness turn to brightly lit shops, arcades, theaters, and shoppers going
about their daily life. One of which was
a girl who came rushing out a small bodega carrying a bag of groceries, and in
haste to get where she was going, crashed right into her.
As the girl stooped down to pick up the goods that had fallen out, Didi thought to help.
And that’s when she made first eye contact.with
the girl, and as she did, a sudden awareness came to mind. “I know her,” she told herself.
“Barb! Barbie Denny, is that
you?” she called out.
“Ahhh, yeah, but, but …,” the befuddled girl
named Barb said, while trying to figure out if she should this know this girl.
“Didi, Didi
Harrison. Your sister Meg and me are the best of friends.
I met you when I went to your house to play ping-pong on your family
room table.”
“Oh yes, I remember now, you’re that fiery lil’redhead
with the wicked top-spin who put my dad to shame.”
“And, oh my, look at you. You’ve grown like a bean stock. You’re a sophomore now, right?”
“Well, yeah, but only by a bit.
You know, I’m at that age where I’m too old to be listening to my dad,
and too stupid to not duck and cover when I don’t. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I hear you,” Barb, laughed.
“Still a half-way girl, though an absolutely gorgeous one, that is for
sure.”
“You think so?
“Oh yeah,” she giggled. “With
your looks, with that fiery red hair & freckles, nobody is going to be
nickel & dimeing you, girl. Trust me, when you get rolling, the cash is going
to be flowing.”
“Yes, well, thank you. I
guess!” She replied, sounding rather
addled. “But tell me, what about
you?” Where have you been? Have you gotten married or are you going to
college or something?”
“No, I do nails, I own my own shop.
See there,” she said, pointing the way down the street to a neon lit
shop. “That’s mine, ‘Barb’s
Talons.’ Want to see it?”
“Oh, yes, yes, please,” she beamed everso
brightly, and then stooped to help Barb gather up her groceries.
As they entered Barb’s nail salon, Didi
couldn’t help but see the Help Wanted sign in the window.
“Wow! What a great place,” Didi called out as Barb was storing away her bag of
groceries in the back room.
“Thank you, I’m glad you like the place” she said upon her return. “It’s all the making of my life long dream.”
“Now, come along, and I’ll introduce you to the chain gang.”
The chain gang, her hired help, sat at their tables upfront. Sally, a pretty thing, who looked to be in
her mid-twenties, and Blanche, who was somewhere in her thirties, about the age
Didi’s mother would have been had she still been
amongst the living.
The foursome chattered like schoolgirls for a bit, and until Didi’s attentions were again drawn to that Help Wanted sign
in the window.
“You do nails?” Barb asked upon catching her looking at the sign.
“Only my own and my friends, but I’ve been told I’m pretty good at
it. In fact, I’m told my designs are as
good, if not better, than they do at the Cyndi’s Boutique on 76th and 8th.
“Oh my, that’s great. It would seem
you have a lot to offer. Talent, looks,
a lively persona, and well, I dare say I could use the help. But you still have 3 more years of school to
do, and my word, what would your parents say?”
“Oh, no, no problem there. My dad is very loving and supportive
and understanding,” she blanched upon the telling of the lie.”
“And your mom?”
“Well, if she were still here, I know she’d be very happy for me.”
“Oh, sorry, I forgot. But from I
knew of her, I’m certain she’d be quite proud of you.”
“I know she would be,” Didi reaffirmed.
“Yes, well then, it looks like you’ve got your house in order. If you truly were interested in joining the
work-a-day world in lieu of school, you’d be a prized catch to be sure. All you would need is a work permit and a
place to live, and you’d be set.”
“Yeah, right, it’s not like they serve up work permits like they do
lunch in the cafeteria, you know.”
“No they don’t, but they’re easy enough to finagle if you don’t mind
fudging. And as for a place to live I
could ask Mr. Gonzales, the man who owns the tenement above, if Allie’s old
apartment is still available. It’s two
hundred a month, but being just a flight up, the convenience alone makes it a
steal.”
“Two hundred?”
“Yes, I know, that might sound a lot, but you’d earn two hundred fifty
a month here, and if you’re frugal as a hermit as Allie was, it’s enough to
keep you in Juju-beans and buttered toast.”
“Juju-beans! Yum, I love them,” she squealed
giddily. “If those are on the table too,
then how could I refuse? It’s a deal!”
All this was almost too great to grasp.
The chance encounter with an old acquaintance, and getting a job and
maybe an apartment too, well, life couldn’t be more wonderful.
But then again, she had yet to deal with her father,
something she knew was going to be all but impossible. Unless, of course, she made effort to
apologized to her dad, then just slipped out in the dead of night with what she
could carry, and disappear without so much as a good-bye.
----
Chapter 3
Two weeks later . . .
Joining the work-a- day world without so much as a good-bye . . .
During her breaks, Didi would on occasion
stand out on the front walk to share a proffered smoke from Blanch. That is, when Blanch wasn’t busy, and when
she was, Didi would go outside & watch the
work-a-day world flow past, while on the sly, she’d keep her other eye on all
the happening going on across the street.
And what a strange, fantastical world it was too!
Occuping the
bottom floor of the
Now, obviously the place wasn't in the business of selling neither
chickens nor eggs to feed a hungry man's belly, but by the size of the crowds
it drew, you’d think that this guy, Tito, was selling nothing less than food
for the soul. Or so Didi
believed given that every form & kind of gent, from business men to
skid-row bums, couldn’t get enough of the place.
In a way, that could be said of Didi too. She simply couldn’t get the place out of her
head. Though in her case it wasn’t for
want to play peekaboo with every G-string wearing, tassed tits swirling, girls dancing in the showcase window,
as it was just plain curiosity as to why she felt a flutter in her tummy
whenever Tito, the orchestrator of all this insane
madness, stepped out onto the front walk to greet the customers walking in.
As to why, well, the reasons are simple enough! The man was noless
than a genuine, through to the bone, lady killer! Gorgeous beyond all measure!
Un canalla, a scoundrel, from España, who by either fair or foul means, somehow managed
to gather up the bucks to set up shop in New York, on Bowery Street, and across
the street from ‘Barb’s Talon’s.
Now all you have to do in put two & two together and ask why? Why come to
Well, I’ll tell you. Back in the
70’s, when the porn industry was thriving, and free speech meant just that,
adding one more cat-house to the mix didn’t really mean all that much. Atleast not to he
politicians who were on the payroll, and certainly not Barb, a business woman,
who rather than scream & complain to city hall, she embraced the idea fully
and was always quick to said so whenever one or another of the lady friends
would make mention of how distasteful she found it all.
“My god, Barb, you see it in all the bookstores, the theaters, and even
in the dress shops, there is nowhere a woman can go anymore without being
assaulted by the filth.”
“Don’t knock it, Betty, it’s good for business,” Barb was always quick
to reply, with a nod toward Tito’s house of nasty across the street.
And barb was spot on, 100% right!
Titos was good for business and in more ways
than just one. In fact, to her, that
living, breathing, house of nasty across the street was more a treasure than
you can possibly imagine.
----
Working for Barb was anything other than drudgery to be sure. Yes, of
course, there were nails to beautify on end, but the time spent while on break
watching the world pass by her rendered that all but a small inconvenience
& well worth her effort. Fact is, for Didi, it
was a thrill a minute that she couldn’t get enough of.
And so it was when Barb walked
out one day to offer Didi a cigarette only to find
her attentions thoroughly captivated by that gorgeous hunk of a man, who at the
time, was standing out front of his pleasure palace greeting his customers as
they entered to revel in the smut & feed their souls.
“He’s one hell of a looker, isn’t he?” Barb asked, with eyes of wonder,
as she lit up her smoke.
“Mhm,” Didi mumbled
back in agreement. “He looks a gril’s dream.”
“Oh yeah,” Barb replied, sounding all too enthralled. “He looks a dream, there is no doubt about that. And by dream, I mean the kind of dream a girl
wakes up to with sticky fingers.”
“You know, there is nothing stopping you from walking over there, Didi, if you want. I
mean it isn’t like everyone else who works here hasn’t already done so
themselves countless times before, and for no other reason than to say hello
and take in his air.”
“You’re kidding me!” Didi replied with a
giggle while blushing shades of red.
“No I’m not. Over the past few
years I’m owned this shop I’ve hired more than just a few girls who ended up
working for him.”
“Honestly?”
“Oh, absolutely, and I can’t say I blame them. The pay is great, your new boss is a walking,
talking wet dream, and it’s liberating as hell!
And by that I mean, you’ll come to feel as
though you’d rather starve than feast on anything less.”
“Do you really think its okay for me to go over there? You know, to say hello and introduce myself?”
“Oh, yeah, and while you’re at it, have a look inside, and meet some of
the girls. Oh, and be sure to tell them
where you work. That way they’ll give
you the grand tour, and explain all the in’s &
out’s.”
“Now, go, go, have fun. And
don’t worry; Maggie will cover for you while you’re gone.”
And so she did, running off at full throttle across the street, toward
that palace of sin, toward Tito himself, who just so happened to be standing
out front to greet his customers as they walked in.
And here I need add, Didi
was near out of her mind with glee when that glorious hunk of a man took up her
hand, and then near breathless when he stooped to give it a kiss before leading
inside to meet the girls, to meet her destiny, feeding the souls of some very
hungry men.”
----
Two Years later in a Barroom on third & Bowery
Malcolm Harrison, Didi’s dad, walked into the
bar, 'Last Call,' and parked his ass down on the first available stool.
“A Johnny Black, Mr. Bartender, and make it a double, no ice, and keep
the bottle handy because I ain’t done until the
bottles done.”
“Hard day, buddy,” the barteder asked, while
Malcolm laid down a 20.
“Look Pal,”Malcolm hurled back, “all my days
are hard.”
“Sounds like you’re carrying a load.”
“Name’s Malcolm, Malcolm Harrison, and yeah, you got that one right,”
he grumbled, as he pick the shot glass and tossed it down
“Ah éeee, shit,” he said as he tossed the
liquor down, and then began to thump his chest like King Kong. “Damn, a few more of those and I won’t be
feeling no shit, no more.”
“Yeah, well, enlighten me, Pal,” the barkeep asked while pouring him
another. “The old lady run out on you,
you lost a load cash on the horses, the boss done canned you, go ahead you can
tell me, what’s up, pal?”
“Naw, it ain’t the ol’lady. I’ve been
laying down dead flowers on her grave for over a dozen years now. It’s my daughter.”
“Your daughter?”
“No, wait, let me clarify that. I should have said, my daughter, the
whore.”
“Oh, yeah, I got you, bud. In
fact, I got one of those of my own, and when I found out,
I locked her up in her room and threw away the key.
“Huh, well I wish it were that easy.”
“Hey, Bud, it’s you who wears the pants, right?”
“Hell yah, but I don’t think I like the inference. It sounds to me like you’re saying that I ain’t got the balls or something,” he scowled, sounding off
near riotiously as if he’d just been libeled.
“Hey Pal, no need going off on me, it’s just man talk that’s all. You
know just chatter to past way the time.”
“Yeah okay,” he back off a step as he again thumped his chest after
tossing down yet another shot of whiskey.
“Look, Pal, the bartender then asked leaning in close & personal
like. Let me ask you something,
bud. When was the last time you made way
down to the Lower East Side of Manhattan, on Bowery?”
“I don’t know. You tell me how
long it’s been,” he said snidely.
“Huh, well, I was going to say that they got this place down there that
is about as far of the world as a man can go.
And I’m talking stratospheric!”
“Titos, it’s called; Tito’s, Corral del Pollo, or if you no hablo español, that would be, Tito’s Chicken Coop.”
“Nope, can’t
say I have. Have you?”
“Hell yeah, In fact, I’m here to tell yah, they got themselves some
wild chicks in there!
“One in particular that I would highly
recommend. She’s
pretty as pie, sweet as a lollipop, and young!
As in a lil’chicky’s first day out from under
her mama's wing, and still covered with a fluffy down.”
“Now, doesn’t that sound the best?
All I can say if that guy, Tito, don’t have the finest little whorehouse
this side of
“Tito? Did I hear you fellows
talking about Tito’s,” a lout of a man called out while making his way through
the crowd toward them.”
“Hey, Hank,” the bartender replied as the burly man, still dressed in
the same, dirty, DNSY, New York Sanitation Department overalls & the same
hard hat he’d worn that day. And he smelled
like he’d spend the day in the in the sewer, too!
“If there is anything I know better that pumping out the sewer it’s got
to be Tito’s,” he said, as he lit up, adding a few watts of lighting to the
otherwise darkened room.
“Make mine a Harper, 100 proof, no water,” he
said as he slapped the counter, and then turned toward Malcolm. “Did I hear you say that you’ve yet to go
down to Titos?
“Nope, I haven't had the time. I
work for a living, meaning I ain’t
got the spare cash neither.”
“Ah, too bad. I can see how that can put a
hitch in a fella’s giddy up,” he said, as if feeling
his pain; an affliction that had apparently spread like a virus over to the
bartender as well.
“Sorry to hear that, bud,” the barkeep said, striking a commiserate
tone as he poured Malcolm another drink. This one, a stiff one, that damn near
spilt over the rim of the glass.
“Whoa,”Malcolm grimaced as he tossed it down,
leaving him reeling and too sopped to talk.
Something that didn’t sit well with that
simple-minded sanitation department employee who only wanted to chum up with
like-minded fellas. And while there were a lot of
good, bad & ugly things that could be said about that singlemined
fellow, lacking in persistence wasn’t one of them.
“Hey, you guy's want to hear something funny?"
"Yeah, sure,” the bar-keep replied wanting to lift the mood.”
“Yeah, well, like I said, I go down to Tito’s a lot because I like the
prices and I like the place and I like the girls who are all go without a stop
sign in sight; especially this one girl
who has had me by the balls from day one.
“A little red headed squirrel of a girl who’s
got the chops of a real pro. And by that I mean, even on her worst of days,
she was obliged to take in the whole of my nut sack into her mouth and still retain
the agility to tongue out my butt-hole, both at the same time.”
“Pretty
cool, huh? That little freckled face
rascal is a real man-eater I tell you, and that’s what I love about her, but by
the same token, it’s also the one thing I feared about her. In fact, sometimes I so feared her eagerness
and voracious appetite that I truly worried that one day it well take the
Jaws-of-life to free her jaws from off my cock.”
“Anyway, now for the funny part.”
One day I went down there, paid my 5 bucks at the door, and made a
beeline to the Workout Room, aka, the Nutting Room, where I found her all tied up.”
“But being as I was a paying customer, and those flea ridden smoocher moocher’s who were getting their rocks off hadn't
laid down a dime, I figured I had to stand up for my rights, or I was going to
be going home with a bad case of the blue balls.”
“So I moved in on them, fist up, ready to tangle, and backed off not an
inch, no matter how fierce the growling.
Or so I tried and tried to get them boned up, fat dicked,
Rotties to drop her so I could have my turn.”
"But, No-o-o-o-o-o, those selfish bastards didn't give up
shit."
"Oh yeah, sure, there always one or two who after giving her a
good nutting, would dropped her right there, right
down at my feet after his knot done shrunk.
Which I thought was kinda chevalier of them, kinda like they were saying to me, ‘Go ahead, bro, if
you want you can give her a go! ’
"I got to tell'ya, them
days, when man & beast got alone like brothers in arms were truly a heart
warmers," he opined with a goofy, lopsided grin.
"Anyway, thankfully, that day was just one of them days when the fella's were kind'a mellowed out
and were cool with the shareing, and I was cool with
the going alone to get along."
“But, you want to know what?” he asked the bartender.
“What?” the barkeeper replied.
“Well, that day I guess you could say that something didn't seem quite
right with me. I mean, after I done
pulled down my zipper and pulled out my Johnny to stick it up her ass, I just couldn’t pull the trigger.”
“What, you got the limp dick or something?”
“Nope! Maybe you could call it a touch of
conscience, or something, but whatever you want to call it, I felt as though
I'd rather take a bullet than stick my Johnny in that spunk filled ass of
hers."
"A bit of a strange turnabout don't you think; that I should get
all creeped out about sticking my dick in a foul
slush pit of hers?" But that’s
exactly what went down, and instead getting off my rocks, I was fighting with
myself, which was kinda tough on me.”
“I mean, I know I spend my days cleaning out the city sewers, and shit
is shit, no matter where you find it. But in the end, I guess, the idea of my
having to sluice out that slush pit of hers, sounded a
bit like drudge work to me, and drudge work wasn't something I came to do. Do you know what I mean?”
“Yeah, well, that’s a good story, but I don’t get it. You said you had a funny story to tell
us. Now, where’s the 'funny' in
that?"
"I don’t know, maybe it’s just one of those, ‘you had to be
there to see it to know it’, kinda a things.”
“Damn, if that ain’t some shit,” the barkeep
then said while shaking his head. “Well
there you have it. Prove positive that
they don’t hire many NYU graduates to work at the Sanitation department.”
“So what do you think?” he then turned to ask Malcolm.”
“I think he’s had a bit too much to drink. But I am curious about something he said.”
“What,” asked the barkeeper?
“Huh, well, let me ask him,” he said and then turned about to ask the
liquor sodden man.
“Your name is Hank, right?”
“Yes sir, that’s me.”
“Yeah, well I was wondering if you might describe her for me?”
“Yeah sure, she had frickled cheeks and
carrot colored hair that she kept braided in ponytails.”
“Red Hair?
“Yeah, Flaming!”
“Freckles! Blue
eyes, Red hair that she like to braid in ponytails?”
“Yup, that’s her. The finest lil’whore you’d ever want to see . . .”
Das Ende
Bad Robot
------- § § § -------
