Gateway to Hell 5

by Arthur Saxon


Donnie Russell awoke with a start. Glancing at his clock, he saw that it was only six o’clock. What had awoken him? And then he heard a sound from the next room – his mother perhaps? Getting out of bed, he put on his slippers and tiptoed out on to the landing, where he pressed his ear to his parents’ bedroom door. Only his mother was likely to be home – his father, a cop, was on night duty this week.

He knocked. “Are you all right, Mom?”

There was a pause, then, “Yes darling – I’m okay. Just a stupid cockroach. I woke up to find one on my face.”

Donnie’s mother, Grace, was nine months pregnant and due any day. It was partly for this reason that both Donnie and his father had so fiercely resisted infection – with the reports of rape and incest spreading like wildfire throughout the city, and the alarming effects of infection on women, father and son both decided that the baby’s only chance of survival lay in its mother remaining uninfected. Which meant that they, too, must remain uninfected, however tempting might be the idea of having foot-long penises which squirted green slime which meant they could rape any woman they liked with impunity...

Not that Donnie was feeling particularly left out at the moment. Yesterday he had had sex with both Millie Frobisher and her twin sister, Melissa. Never mind that it had been in order to pretend to fit in with their infected contemporaries at school – it had still been an incredibly exciting experience.

And it was nice to know that he still had his own mind. His male friends at school seemed like different people, now – they seemed interested only in sex and rape. Even his gay friend, Alan, had become magically (and aggressively) straight overnight. But much as a corner of his mind envied the new fun his ex-friends were having, Donnie valued his continued hold on his ‘normal’ state of mind. And he was becoming very attuned to anything that might threaten it.

“Be careful,” he said. “Don’t let it go … you know.”

“Yes, dear, I know. I won’t.”

“Okay,” said Donnie. “Well, I guess I’m going to go and grab some breakfast.”

“Remember not to drink any tap water!” she cautioned him.

“Of course!” he replied.

Not that there was any way of knowing for sure what foodstuffs had been contaminated with the infection, but conversations with fellow cops had led his father to suspect that tap water was to be avoided. So Donnie poured himself some pineapple juice, tipped a pile of cornflakes into a bowl, poured milk liberally over them, and hoped as he ate that the juice and the milk were both safe.

A few minutes later his mother entered the kitchen, rubbing her back and waddling on account of her huge belly. “Morning,” she said.

“Morning,” he replied. “Ugh, you’ve got a cockroach on your shoulder!”

Grace hastily brushed the insect from her shoulder and stamped on it as soon as it hit the floor. Donnie jumped up, fetched a tissue, and wiped up the mess. As he deposited the tissue in the trash can, he said, “The little buggers are getting more numerous. I killed seventeen last night in my room. God knows where they’re all coming from.”

“Next door, probably,” said Grace. “Bobbie got infected the day before yesterday, and she infected her whole family. Now their place is overrun with roaches.”

Donnie shuddered. “Some guy on the news yesterday said that there are an estimated five thousand cockroaches for every human living in Boston.”

“Speaking of which, let’s see what’s on the news today,” said Grace. “I swear it just gets crazier and crazier.”

Donnie turned on the television. Both he and his mother gasped at the sight of newsreader Martha Jackson, naked, heavily pregnant, and covered from head to toe in poo, being fucked by two men as she lay on her desk. One of the men clearly had his cock in her anus. “Reports of the infection are now coming in from countries all over the world, from Japan to South Africa, from Argentina to Russia. Nowhere, however, is the rate of infection as high as it is in the States, where an estimated thirty percent of the population is now infected. That figure is expected to rise as high as fifty percent by Sunday, with some predicting that the entire population of the country will be infected within a week.”

Donnie switched off. He looked at his mother soberly. “We should emigrate,” he said.

“To where?” asked Grace. “You heard the report – all the world is becoming infected. Wherever we go, it will catch up with us.” Tears sprang to her eyes, and then she began to sob uncontrollably.

“Hush, Mom,” said Donnie, putting his arms awkwardly around her. “Let’s just concentrate on staying uninfected until the baby arrives, okay? Afterwards, we’ll just hope that a cure can be found. Isn’t some Harvard professor working on that?”

“Not any more,” said Grace tearfully. “I heard on last night’s news that she was raped by her bodyguard. Now she’s abandoned her research – says the world will be better off once everyone’s infected.”

“Oh God,” said Donnie, slumping into a chair. “Well, maybe someone else – a scientist in another country, perhaps…”

Grace nodded. “Yes, let’s hope for that,” she said.


The president of the United States burst into the bedroom where Sam and Erin were sleeping either side of his daughter beneath a mountain of poo. He stopped in astonishment, the exciting news he had come to deliver fleeing from his lips as he stared at the enormous pile. His daughter was barely visible – only her feet and head showed on either side of the mountain, and already it was creeping over her chin – if any more poo were added to the pile, it would surely suffocate her. Sam was in a similar situation, although her arm dangled over the side of the bed, resting atop the pile of poo that had spilled on to the floor. Erin was the most unencumbered – her left breast was partially uncovered by poo, and her left leg was visible all the way up to the knee.

Carl Woodridge shook himself. He advanced into the room, his shoes crunching on cockroaches. “Ladies!” he said loudly.

Kimberly and Erin both woke up at once, screaming their lungs out. Sam awoke too, but she did not scream. Both she and the president winced at the screams, which quickly died away.

“Sorry Sam,” said Erin guiltily. “Bad dream.”

Kimberly was sobbing. “Me too!” she wailed.

“Ugh!” said Sam. “I can barely breathe under all this poo. And I can’t move! Carl, could you help me get this shit off me?”

“You’re kidding, right?” said the president. “I’ll get filthy!”

Sam sighed. “Then perhaps you could just grab my hand and pull me out?”

“Sure,” he said, and did so, though he had to pull very hard before, with a sucking sound, Sam slid out from under the poo mountain and fell off the bed. As she got to her feet, she could not help noticing that she was very pregnant.

“I can’t move either!” said Kimberly.

“Nor can I,” said Erin.

Sam began to pull armfuls of poo off the two of them, while the president watched in fascination. Then he remembered his news and said, “Sam, I’ve called an emergency meeting of Congress. Thanks to your leeches, I figure they’ll approve pretty much anything now. And what I intend to do is declare martial law.”

Sam stopped what she was doing. “Wow!” she said. “That’s … drastic. So will that help you to push laws through faster?”

“Absolutely. The legislative process becomes vastly streamlined under martial law. Once I have declared it, I’ll essentially become a military dictator. I’ll announce laws – Congress will pass them if they know what’s good for them – and the army will enforce them.”

“Wow!” said Sam again. “And it’s as simple as that – you just declare martial law, and it’s so?”

“Almost,” said the president, slightly uncomfortably. “It’s actually illegal to declare martial law in this country while the civil courts are still in operation, thanks to a Supreme Court decision back in, oh, eighteen-sixty-six I think it was. But there’s an obvious way around that – dissolve the civil courts. Naturally that should really go through the entire legislative process, since we’re legally not under martial law until the courts are disbanded, but who the hell is going to object? And who, having objected, will still be in a position to object a few hours later?”

Sam smiled. “You’re evil – you know that?”

The president looked shocked. “No I’m not!” he said indignantly. Then his brow furrowed. “Am I?”

Sam shrugged. “I really don’t know what’s right or wrong any more,” she said, resuming her task of pulling poo off Kimberly’s body. Then she paused, retched, and then threw up, opening her mouth wide to allow the column of soft poo surging up her gullet to leave her mouth unobstructed. Much of the poo fell on to Kimberly’s face. Once she had finished, she muttered, “Sorry,” and then promptly threw up again.

“Gross!” said the president, repelled yet intrigued.

Sam wiped Kimberly’s face clean, then she grabbed the young girl’s arms and pulled. Slowly, Kimberly emerged from beneath the mountain. She looked as if her belly was about to burst.

“Jesus!” said the president.

Kimberly threw up on to the floor, then she struggled to her feet and patted her poo-covered belly proudly. “Look, Daddy!” she said, apparently unconcerned at being naked and filthy in front of her father.

“I’m looking!” said her father. “Jeez, you look as if you’re going to explode!”

She giggled. “Yes – wouldn’t that be something!” she said. “But I think it more likely that I’ll just give birth.”

“Fancy doing it live on national television?” asked Carl. “Can you hold it in for a few hours? I’ve called a press conference for two o’clock this afternoon.”

“That would be awesome!” said Kimberly. “But … I don’t think I can hold it…”

“She really will explode if you make her hold it until then,” said Sam. “She looks like she’s going to give birth any minute now.”

The president looked disappointed. “Oh well,” he said. But then his jaw hardened. “Damnit, you will give birth live on national television!” he said. “See to it, Sam!”

Sam, alarmed, said, “I … I’ll do what I can. But can’t you meet us halfway? Re-schedule the press conference for, say, eleven o’clock?”

“My meeting with Congress is only at ten!” he said.

“So?” said Sam. “How long does it take to say, ‘I propose to dissolve the courts and impose martial law – who’s with me?’, and hold a vote?”

“A long time!” said Carl. “Under normal circumstances.” Then he shrugged. “You may be right – perhaps we’ll get through it all by eleven. All right, I’ll reschedule the press conference.” He turned and marched out of the room.

“I think it’s coming!” said Kimberly. She sank to the floor and lay down on her back, spreading her legs wide.

“Oh no you don’t!” said Sam. Quickly she grabbed a towel and used it to bind Kimberly’s knees together. When the young girl writhed in pain and tried to undo the towel, Sam found a shirt in a closet and used it to tie Kimberly’s hands behind her back.

“Sam, that’s rather cruel,” said Erin anxiously. “What if she really does explode?” Then she, too, threw up a long rope of poo.

“She won’t,” said Sam, hoping fervently that this was true. “I’m hardly going to disobey an order from the president, though, am I?”

“I suppose not,” conceded Erin.

“God, it hurts!” groaned Kimberly. “Please let me give birth, Sam!”

“Not until eleven o’clock,” said Sam. “You’ve got three hours. I expect you’ll grow a bit more in that time, but I really don’t think you’ll explode.”

She and Erin helped the fifteen-year-old to her feet, and the three of them made their way together to the breakfast table.


As Millie and Melissa arrived at school that morning, both naked, they were each handed a transparent garment by the bouncer, who had an entire box full of them. “Put those on before you poop,” he told them. “They’re now the uniform for all the girls. You don’t have to wear them until you poop, but any poo you produce has to go in there. Clear?”

The twins nodded, and continued into the school, where they headed to the gym with all the other girls for the morning Check. This went smoothly, since all the girls were wearing either nothing at all or just the transparent panties – which were so see-through and non-reflective that any girl wearing them looked naked anyway. A few girls had already defecated into their new panties – they looked rather bizarre, with large lumps of poo apparently clinging to the undersides of their buttocks and pussies. Laura Moss’s panties were so full that it looked like she was wearing enormously thick panties made entirely of poo – the brown mess had even worked its way around her hips from front and back until it met in the middle to form a uniform ridge a couple of inches above her hip bone on each side. At the back the bulge was so huge it came at least halfway down her thighs.

“If she poops again today,” murmured Melissa, “she won’t be able to walk!”

Millie nodded in agreement. “Especially with that belly – she’s huge!”

In the corridor outside, they were just passing the toilet when Millie heard a loud “Psst!” She turned to see Chelsea Barnes peeping out from inside.

“Come on Mel,” she said, dragging her sister after her as she hurried into the toilet. There were a few piles of poo here and there, and the floor was awash with a mixture of urine, poo and vomit. “Hi Chelsea.”

“You got infected!” said Chelsea, staring sternly at Millie’s pregnant belly.

Millie nodded. “Yes, but it’s really not bad,” she said. “Honestly – you should just give in and let it happen. You’ll be much happier.”

Chelsea sighed. “Damn it!” she said. “That means I’m the only one left. Can I count on you both to keep my secret?”

Millie nodded, but Melissa said, “I don’t know, Chelsea – it’s for your own good, really. Millie, maybe we should…”

“No!” said Millie firmly. “You didn’t give me away, and I’m not about to give Chelsea away.”

Melissa nodded. “All right, fine, I’ll keep your secret Chelsea.”

Chelsea, who had balled her fists at Melissa’s initial reluctance, relaxed a little. Tears came to her eyes, but she wiped them away angrily – she hated to show any kind of weakness. “So, how did it happen?” she asked. “Did you drink the water?”

“We were on our way back from Harvard,” began Millie, but stopped as Melissa elbowed her in the ribs.

“Harvard?” asked Chelsea, puzzled. Then her eyes widened. “You went to see that professor!”

Melissa shot an annoyed look at Millie, then said, “Yeah, we went – for all the good it did.”

“And had her bodyguard raped her by that time?” asked Chelsea. “What did she say?”

“Her bodyguard raped her?” repeated Melissa, surprised. “So she’s infected?”

“You didn’t know?” asked Chelsea.

“I think we should tell her,” said Millie to Melissa.

“But why?” asked Melissa. “It’ll only delay the inevitable.”

“Mel! The girl wants to remain uninfected. We can help her. She was a good friend to us yesterday – it’s the least we can do.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Chelsea, looking keenly from one twin to the other.

Melissa shrugged. “All right. It’s a medication for pinworms. You should be able to find it in any drugstore, I think. It’s called Anti-Pin, or something like that. It’s a cure, though, not a vaccine, so it won’t stop you becoming infected.”

“It’s a start!” said Chelsea. “Thank you! What’s the dosage?”

“A fraction of one pill seems to work,” said Millie. “And almost instantaneously.”

“Awesome!” said Chelsea. “Thanks, both of you – and please don’t give me away!”

“We won’t,” promised Millie, and Melissa nodded.

They left the toilet and parted company, going to separate classes. Chelsea knew that her chances of making it through the day uninfected were slim, so she resolved to escape from the school at the first opportunity. In the meantime, however, she should make every effort to seem infected – and that meant attending classes and submitting to any humiliation the teachers doled out … unless doing so would result in her becoming infected. She sighed – this was going to be tough.

Entering the classroom, she took a seat in the middle of the room, and spread her legs wide apart for the webcam beneath. She was wearing her transparent panties, for which she was very grateful – they would hopefully prevent any leeches or cockroaches from entering her.

“Good morning!” said Mr Garrett, her history teacher, once everyone was present. “Before we begin with our revision of the Reagan era and the collapse of communism in eastern Europe, let me first introduce a new rule devised by Principal McEnery. Since it is well-known that boys who are horny find it difficult to concentrate on anything but sex, and the boys in this room are surrounded by naked girls, it can be readily assumed that anything I say in this lesson is unlikely to be absorbed by the male half of this class. Therefore every boy in here is required, before I begin teaching, to have an orgasm. In order to facilitate that orgasm, each boy will choose a girl to fuck. He will then, naturally, fuck her, and once each boy has climaxed, we will begin the lesson.”

“What if we’re already fucking a girl?” asked Ben Philby, who was currently thrusting his huge penis in and out of Sarah Grossman’s anus. The rest of the class laughed.

“Then you have a head-start on your classmates,” said Mr Garrett. “Now hurry up, boys – choose your girl and start your fucking.”

Chelsea folded her arms across her chest – she knew her large breasts would make her a popular choice, even if her face was no oil painting. Sure enough, a slim, spotty boy named Calvin Peterson came over to stand beside her desk.

“Get lost, creep,” she said, glaring at him. “My pussy belongs to my dad – and he doesn’t like to share.”

Calvin retreated hastily and soon found a more willing partner. Chelsea congratulated herself on her quick thinking, and used the same tactic on the next two boys who approached her.

“Not joining in, Chelsea?” asked Mr Garrett mildly.

“My dad’s very possessive of my pussy,” said Chelsea.

The teacher chuckled, and nodded. “Well, he should really learn to share you with other men.”

“He does,” said Chelsea. “But only with his brothers.”

“Ah,” said Mr Garrett, smiling. “A man who likes to keep it in the family. Well, that’s understandable.”

“Hey,” said Rob Cilento, looking across at Chelsea while fucking cheerleader Lisa Brady. “Does anyone remember seeing Chelsea pregnant?”

Now everyone was looking at her. Chelsea felt her hair stand on end. “I only got infected yesterday – and I gave birth this morning,” she said, trying to sound casual. “I was definitely showing before I left here yesterday – someone must have seen me!”

“Hmm,” said Mr Garrett. “So you would not object to drinking a glass of water?”

“Of course not,” said Chelsea, sweat breaking out on her forehead. “Want me to fetch one?”

“I’ll fetch it myself,” said Mr Garrett. “You wait here.”

Chelsea racked her brains for a plan while Mr Garrett was out of the room. Nothing sprang to mind. One by one, her male classmates climaxed inside their chosen partners (it was fortunate indeed that there were slightly more girls than boys in her class), and then sat back down at their desks. Many of them were looking at her suspiciously.

When Mr Garrett returned, she was still no nearer a way out of her predicament. Her heart sank as he handed her the glass. “Very well,” she said, getting to her feet. “I’ll drink it right in front of all of you, just to prove I’m infected.” She stepped out from behind her desk and walked up to the front of the classroom. Turning to face her classmates, she lifted her glass as if making a toast, and said, “Bottoms up!”

Then she threw the glass at Mr Garrett, and ran for the door.

“After her! Rape her!” bellowed the teacher.

She made it through the door before anybody caught her, and then bolted for the front entrance. The bouncer was there, of course, and he grinned as he saw her coming.

Chelsea slowed down long enough to rip a fire extinguisher from the wall. Then she growled and increased her pace. She was a big girl, and her momentum counted for a lot. As she charged at the man, with absolutely no intention of slowing down, her growl turned into a roar, and there was murder in her eyes. She pulled the safety pin from the fire extinguisher.

The bouncer’s eyes widened, and his grin faded. He braced himself for impact, but when Chelsea was just six feet away from him she pulled the trigger, releasing a white cloud of carbon dioxide. The bouncer yelled and jumped backwards, covering his eyes. Then Chelsea collided with him, the fire extinguisher hitting him full in the forehead, and he rocketed backwards and fell to the floor. Chelsea fell on top of him, but she was on her feet again in a second. Turning, she fired the extinguisher at her pursuers, who were by now just a few feet away. Those at the front skidded to a halt, and those behind piled into them, causing a tangle of bodies to fall to the floor.

Chelsea dropped the extinguisher, jumped over the prone bouncer, and fled through the door. Outside she ran across the schoolyard to the front gates and slipped through. Only then did she look back. She sighed with relief as she saw she was not being followed. Now she just needed to get hold of some of that pinworm medication…

It was then that she realised her purse was still inside the school. Cursing, she nevertheless headed for the nearest drugstore, stepping around the numerous piles of poo that littered the sidewalk on the way. Inside the store, she had a quick look around, and soon found what she was looking for – a bottle of pinworm medication. Sure enough, it was called Anti-Pin.

Going to the front counter, she said, “How much for these?”

The cashier stared at Chelsea’s breasts, and grinned. He took the bottle and swiped it. “Seventeen ninety-nine,” he said.

“Would you let me have it for free if I let you feel my tits?” she asked.

“A week ago, I would have,” said the young man. “Now, with everything that’s been going on, it’ll cost you more than that.”

Chelsea sighed. “Name your price then,” she said.

“A fuck?” said the man hopefully.

“No!” said Chelsea angrily. Then she calmed herself down, and said, “You can stick your finger inside me – how about that?”

“And suck your nipples?”

“All right,” said Chelsea. “It’s a deal.”

The waistband of her panties was stuck to her skin so well that it actually hurt to pull it away. She let the man put his hand inside, and stick his finger into her vagina, then she rolled her eyes as he began to suck noisily on her left nipple. After half a minute she pushed him away.

“Okay, it’s yours!” said the man.

“Thanks,” said Chelsea, and she left the store.

It was a long walk home, but she had no money for a bus and did not relish the prospect of letting a bus driver feel her up. She had a slight blister by the time she walked up to her front door. Of course, she had no key … but her father often worked from home. Hopefully he was still here.

The door was open. She went straight to the kitchen and fetched a can of beer from the fridge. Pouring it into a tall glass, she crushed up one of her pinworm pills and sprinkled it on top of the beer’s foamy head. Taking it upstairs, she found her father in his bedroom, masturbating over a picture of her in a bathing suit.

“Dad!” she exclaimed. “What on Earth are you doing?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, putting his huge penis away. “It’s just that you looked so hot in that photo…”

“I was thirteen years old!” she said in disgust.

“Yeah, but even then, you had the most amazing boobs…”

Chelsea shuddered. “Look, never mind,” she said. “I brought you a beer – I figured you might be thirsty.”

“Thanks!” he said, taking it. “What are you doing home from school?”

“Uh – I had a little argument with my teacher,” she said.

“Did you get suspended?” asked her father in concern. “That won’t look too good on your résumé...”

“No Dad, I didn’t get suspended. I just walked out. I’ll explain it to you later.”

Jason Barnes eyed his daughter’s pussy while he took a swig of his beer. “Are you wearing panties?” he asked, his brow furrowing as he wiped his foam moustache away.

“Yes – we all got them at school this morning,” said Chelsea, watching him closely.

Jason opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, looking puzzled. Then he gasped. “My God – I can’t believe I was just…” He threw aside Chelsea’s picture. “Oh my God! I’m so sorry, Chelsea – I don’t know what came over me!”

Chelsea’s heart leaped. “It’s all right, Dad!” she said, her eyes shining. “I just cured you, that’s all.”

“Cured me … of the infection?” asked Jason. He stuck a hand down the front of his trousers. “Still pretty enormous,” he said. “Are you sure?”

“Let’s see if you still shoot green sperm,” said Chelsea.

“Uh – well okay,” he said, “but you’ll have to leave the room, okay?”

Chelsea nodded, and left the room. Ten minutes later she re-entered, by now wearing a t-shirt and shorts. “Finished yet?” she asked.

“I can’t come!” said her father crossly as he hurriedly turned his back on her.

“Would it help if I did a sexy striptease in front of you?” she asked wryly.

“Don’t be perverse!” he said. “Though perhaps some porn…”

But an hour of porn videos did not help. “This is ridiculous!” exclaimed Jason. “What’s the point in being cured if it means I can’t have an orgasm?”

This troubled Chelsea, too. She was terrified that her father would re-infect himself deliberately. “Please,” she said to him, “just take your time. Maybe you just need a period of readjustment.”

He shrugged. “Maybe the pleasures of infection have ruined me for a normal sex life.”

Chelsea gulped. “Maybe,” she said in an unsteady voice, “it would help if I did a striptease…”

“I don’t fancy you now,” he exclaimed hotly. “Now I’m back to normal, aren’t I?”

Chelsea bit her lip, not knowing what to suggest. “What turns you on most?” she asked. “Think.”

Jason gestured to his videos. “Bondage,” he said. “Whips, handcuffs – that sort of thing. But it’s not getting me off right now.”

“So – what are you going to do?” asked Chelsea.

“Who knows? Maybe I’ll just have to get used to not being able to come. Anyway leave me alone – I have work to do.”

Chelsea left the room, her thoughts full of worry.


Sam felt highly nervous as she walked into the House of Representatives. Politicians, some of very high rank, stared at her – many with undisguised lust – as she walked up the aisle, wearing a sheer camisole top and a pair of white string-fronted panties. Her pregnant belly preceded her by at least a foot, and her engorged breasts strained against her top, her nipples clearly visible through the flimsy material.

The meeting went by in a blur. The Speaker introduced the president, who announced his intention to declare martial law so that he could pass new emergency laws to deal with the new sexual revolution sweeping the country. When asked what kind of laws he was talking about, the president mentioned repealing indecency laws and rape laws, and making it illegal to worship God.

The motion to dissolve the courts and declare martial law was passed unanimously, ten minutes later. Emboldened, the president asked the house to pass a motion granting him the power to pass laws with only the support of Congress, thus stripping the Senate of its powers. This motion, too, passed unanimously. Warming to his theme, the president announced Sam as his new vice president. The previous holder of that office, Robert Short, looked dismayed for a moment, then he congratulated Sam with a tight smile. Carl invited Sam to say a few words, and she got to her feet, trembling.

“I don’t have much to say,” she croaked, then she cleared her throat. “Um, I just want to say that it is a great honour to be chosen for this office, and I will enjoy serving my country alongside the president and all you fine men and women.” Just then her anus opened up, and a long column of poo rapidly descended, carrying her skimpy panties straight to the floor and quickly burying them as it folded back and forth to form a growing pile around her feet.

Gasps rose up from the assembled representatives. Sam nervously continued, “I suppose you are all curious as to my background, and what my values are. Well, I feel I am qualified to advise the president regarding the current … plague, if that’s what you want to call it – because, you see, I started it.”

More gasps – and for a moment her poo was ignored. “Yes,” Sam continued, “I believe it all started with me. A week ago the country seemed normal, I dare say, to all of you folks, but already I was dreaming of demons and pooping in vast quantities. And I feel I have a mission – to ensure all women in the world are similarly affected, or infected if you prefer, and that all men have the desire, and the weaponry, to dominate and humiliate the women.” She stared around at all the astonished faces, and wondered for a panic-stricken moment if they really were all infected.

But then someone began to clap, and he was joined by others, and a moment later, the entire house was on its feet, bathing Sam’s ears in rapturous applause. Sam smiled, still defecating, and waved at them all happily.

The meeting ended at a quarter to eleven, and Sam accompanied the president to the press room, where a host of reporters was assembled. Erin and Kimberly were already there. Erin was wearing a loose, low-cut dress that she had shortened to hip-length. Kimberly was wearing two of her father’s ties – one around her wrists, which were behind her back, and the other around her knees. Her belly was so huge now that she would not have been able to reach her belly button with either of her hands, even if they had not been tied behind her back. She was writhing and groaning in her chair, and Erin was fretfully trying to keep her calm.

Erin looked up in relief as Sam and Carl entered. She silently mouthed “Hurry!” to Sam, but Sam merely shrugged and gestured to the president.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the press,” said the president, noting with a smile that most of the female reporters were naked, and those who weren’t were wearing so little that they might as well have been naked. Several pairs of poo-filled panties were in evidence. “I have just declared martial law. I have also dissolved the civil courts, and streamlined the legislature so that I can announce new laws with only the support of Congress. The Senate, essentially, has been stripped of its power. Also, I have fired Robert Short and appointed a new vice president – Samantha Potter.” He gestured to Sam. “Before I take any questions, however, I would like to present my daughter, Kimberly, who has something she would like to show you.”

Erin quickly untied Kimberly’s bonds, and then helped the young girl up on to the table in front of them. Cameras flashed all over the room, capturing every moment of the naked girl’s ascent, and the television cameras rolled all the while as Kimberly lay down and spread her legs wide, in full view of all the reporters. Her vagina, already considerably dilated, was forced open still more. A long rope of poo slithered out of her anus and fell to the floor in front of the table. “Oh GOD!” she screamed. “Aah, it hurts so bad!”

“So badly, Kimberly,” said her father sternly. “Have we taught you nothing?”

But Kimberly merely continued to scream in pain as her vagina reached five … six … seven inches in diameter. The reporters stared, fascinated, as her pelvic bones visibly shifted apart beneath her skin to allow the passage of whatever this monster was. The skin between her vagina and anus tore, forming a single, huge orifice, through which now emerged the round, brown, lumpy front end of a familiar-looking giant poo.

The reporters drew back as the poo advanced across the room, holding stiff and straight even when six feet of it was protruding from Kimberly’s cunt. This was a lot longer and thicker than any of Sam’s or Erin’s giant poos had been – it was not until the behemoth had reached fifteen feet in length that the familiar translucent sac started to emerge from Kimberly’s vagina, accompanied by weak cries of pain from the exhausted teenager.

Something was different about this sac, however. When ten feet of it had emerged, it split open, and what emerged was not, as Sam and Erin had expected, leech creatures. Instead, the air was suddenly filled with wasp-sized flying creatures – thousands of them, at least. They flew, practically noiselessly, around the heads of everyone in the room, then they dispersed into the air-conditioning vents or flew out of the room through the open door. A minute later, none remained in the room, except for one which Sam had managed to swat against the table. She regarded it curiously – it was green, squishy and leech-like, with two robust brown wings and no legs. Its eyes were bulbous and white, and some kind of sting was poking out of its back end.

“I wasn’t expecting that!” she said.

The reporters had now all got over looking for stray flying leeches, and turned their attention back to Kimberly, who was now whimpering as sludgy poo poured from the gaping hole between her legs.

“Any questions?” asked the president.

Every hand shot into the air. The president pointed to a young female reporter with large breasts and a heavily pregnant belly. Her panties were bulging heavily with poo – she was wearing nothing else.

“Rhonda Stuart, New York Times,” she said. “What do you intend to do about the plague, now that you have declared martial law?”

“Nothing at all,” said the president. “The plague will soon have covered the entire country, at which point we’ll all be in the same boat, and we can stop worrying about it and get on with our lives. Next question – yes, the blonde with the pink dildo.”

“Lita Sanborn,” said the blonde woman breathlessly as she slid her huge dildo in and out of her vagina. “Washington Post. What is the purpose of declaring martial law, then?”

“I intend to pass a suite of new laws,” said the president, “and the military will help me enforce them. One such law will be the prohibition of religion. Worshipping God will be against the law under the new regime. Next – the gentleman stroking his penis.”

“What do you intend to do about these so-called ‘gateways to hell’?” asked the man in question.

“I believe they should be thoroughly explored,” said the president. “I shall be assembling crack teams of naked, unarmed women to enter all such gateways and discover where they lead to. And if you’re looking for somewhere to deposit your semen, please feel free to use my daughter’s cunt.”

“Thanks very much!” said the man, and he stepped forward, sliding his huge cock into Kimberly’s even huger vagina and anus. After thrusting unsatisfactorily a few times, he drew back and contented himself with simply masturbating until he spurted his ejaculate into the gaping hole. Kimberly groaned unhappily.

“The same goes for any other men here,” said the president. “Now that Kimberly’s given birth, she needs to be made pregnant again. Next question – the girl with the words ‘Shit-rape me’ tattooed on her belly.”

“I’d like to know who your lovely new vice president is,” said the tattooed lady. “I have not heard of her before.”

“Certainly,” said Carl. “Sam?”

Sam hesitantly got to her feet, then she spoke into the microphone, trying to sound as professional as possible. “My name is Samantha F. Potter,” she said, “and I am a newcomer to politics. However, I have a very sound knowledge and understanding of the issues surrounding the current plague and the gateways to hell, so I believe I am the right person to be at the president’s side during these, uh, turbulent times. And, um, thank you for calling me lovely. You’re not so bad yourself.”

The reporter grinned at Sam as she sat back down. The president said, “That’s all the questions we’ll take for the moment. Thank you.”

He strode from the room, but Sam stayed behind to help Erin with Kimberly, although they had to wait until the last two male reporters had filled the girl with their green ejaculate. “Let’s get you to a hospital,” muttered Sam. “Poor thing – that must have hurt like hell!”

“It did!” moaned Kimberly.

“It’s not bleeding much, fortunately,” said Erin. “But you’ll need to get that stitched up as soon as possible.”

Sam nodded, and the three of them processed slowly out of the room and along the corridor. “So,” said Erin. “What does the ‘F’ stand for?”

“Hmm?” said Sam.

“Samantha F. Potter,” said Erin.

“Oh – Frances,” said Sam. She chuckled. “I don’t know why I said that instead of just ‘Samantha Potter’ – somehow it just seemed a little more … vice presidential, or something.”

Erin smiled. “It was pretty cool, actually.” Then she looked around, staring at all the doors and side passages up ahead. “Um, do you know where we’re going?”

“Uh, no,” admitted Sam.

A shot rang out, followed closely by another. Then an entire volley of gunfire echoed down the corridor. “Shit!” exclaimed Erin. “What the hell’s that?”

“Gunshots!” said Sam, unnecessarily.

The three of them froze for a moment, but there was no more gunfire, only the sound of shouting up ahead. “I’ll go and see what’s happening!” said Sam. “Stay here with Kimberly!”

Letting go of the president’s daughter, Sam ran down the corridor, her breasts bouncing freely under her flimsy top. Her anus suddenly expanded to allow the passage of a new, thick, firm turd, but she ignored it and continued running until she turned a corner and saw, ahead of her and down a short flight of steps, the building’s front lobby. It was full of people, and there was pandemonium.
Sam descended the stairs and ran up to the crowd of people. “What’s going on?” she asked.

A man whom she recognised as one of the president’s bodyguards detached himself from the crowd and hurried over to her. Gripping her by the elbow, he said, “This way, Madam Vice President.”

“What happened?” Sam asked.

“The president has been shot,” said the bodyguard. “We have to get you to a safe place.”

Sam’s stomach lurched. “Will he be all right?” she asked with a feeling of dread.

“Unlikely,” said the bodyguard. He stopped and turned to face her. “The bullet got him just in front of his ear. The other side of his skull … it pretty much came off.”

Sam put a hand to her mouth, afraid she might throw up. “But … but … doesn’t that mean…”

“Yes,” said the bodyguard, sighing heavily. “It means that … for now … you are the president of the United States of America.”

“Oh God!” exclaimed Sam, her face turning white. “But … I have no experience! I … I don’t know what to do! Nobody will listen to me!”

“Madam … President,” said the bodyguard. “Please be strong. You will have advisers. You are not alone. But people need to feel their country is in safe hands. I am no politician, and in no position to give advice, but for what it’s worth, I suggest you appoint a new vice president immediately – someone who can show you the ropes until you are confident enough to take the lead.”

“That’s excellent advice,” said Sam gratefully. “Thank you. So … how do I get in touch with Robert Short…?”


Grace Russell was watching television with her feet up when there came a knock at the door. Her husband was in bed, asleep, and she did not want to disturb him, so she swung her legs off the couch and hauled herself to her feet. Waddling to the front door with one hand on her pregnant belly, she cracked the door open cautiously and peered out. A couple of small boys were standing on the doorstep, holding Super Soaker water guns. A third boy stood further back, in the middle of the driveway.

Grace opened the door wider. “Shouldn’t you boys be in school?” she asked.

“We got suspended,” said one of the boys, scratching the back of his tousle-haired head as he spoke. “Anyway, we accidentally hit our ball into your yard – could we get it please?”

“Oh – sure,” said Grace.

Just then the boy in the driveway fired his water gun at the boys on the doorstep. “Ha ha!” he yelled.

“I’ll get you for that!” said the tousle-haired boy, turning and firing his water gun.

“Careful, boys, watch where you’re pointing…” began Grace, and then she broke off suddenly as she got a faceful of water. Some of it went into her mouth, and even though she did not swallow, she felt some trickle down the back of her throat. In a panic, she slammed the front door shut. Then she hurried as quickly as she could to the kitchen sink, where she spat several times. Taking a bottle of juice from the fridge, she gargled with it for a moment and then spat it out. She hoped this would be enough…


Laura Moss was in English class when the contraction hit. She put up her hand. “Mr Dawes, I’m about to give birth!”

“Come up here, then,” he said, “and lie on my desk with your pussy facing the rest of the class.”

Laura struggled out from behind her desk and staggered up to the front, her transparent panties heavily loaded with about one and a half watermelons’ worth of poo. When she started to pull on her waistband, however, Mr Dawes stopped her. “No mess on the floor,” he said. “You’ll just have to give birth into your panties.”

Laura stared at him. “But – it won’t fit!”

“Those panties will hold up to eighty pounds of poo,” said the teacher. “More, probably. So go ahead and get up there.”

What with her huge belly and more than thirty pounds of poo in her panties, Laura had no hope of climbing on to the desk unaided, so Mr Dawes gave her a leg-up. By the time she got settled, Laura’s vagina was dilated to five inches and a new giant poo was emerging into her panties. As it stretched out the transparent film between her legs, Mr Dawes pushed it downwards, into the back of her panties, where he squished and kneaded it into a shapeless mass.

Laura’s poo-bulge grew bigger and bigger, sagging over the edge of the desk and expanding towards the front row of students, who were watching in curious amusement. Laura had given birth several times now to turds this big, and her vagina was used to the stretching, so now she found the process quite comfortable, and was even enjoying it.

After a couple of minutes, the bulge was truly enormous, and green leech-creatures were swimming around in it, occasionally visible as they brushed against the inside of the panties. Laura had to really strain now to keep expelling the monster, for the pressure in her panties was trying to force it back in. Eventually she gave up, panting, having reached an equilibrium. Her vagina was still wide open, and she could feel the leeches sliding in and out of her as they swam freely in the poo.

“All right Laura, you may return to your desk,” said Mr Dawes. He helped her down, but Laura found she could barely walk – her bulging panties, resting on the ground behind her, now weighed so much that she knew the monster must have actually gained weight in the process of being born. Gritting her teeth, she waddled forward, knees bent, dragging the poo-bulge behind her. As she reached her desk, she eased herself down on to her chair, with the bulge mostly hanging off the front and forming a huge distended sac between her knees and calves which meant she had to keep her legs spread wide apart. Since this was the rule anyway, however, it hardly mattered.

But now Laura was getting fidgety. Now that she had given birth, she was becoming desperate to be fucked again. The poo squidging around against her clitoris was making her incredibly horny, and she longed for Danny to come and fill her with his green sperm. And if Danny was not available … then perhaps someone else could do it. This thought shocked her – until now she had wished to remain faithful to Danny, even though repeated gang-rapes had rendered that wish hopeless. Now, however, she found herself thinking wistfully of her gang-rape in the gym, and of that wonderfully erotic strip poker game in which she had taken part…

She picked up a marker pen and began to absent-mindedly write on her chest while she gyrated her pussy into the mass of poo in her panties. A moment later, she smiled with satisfaction as she read the words she had written just above her breasts: AVAILABLE FOR GANG-RAPE. She could hardly wait to get out into the corridor after the lesson, so that the cruellest of the senior boys could see these words.

At that moment, something began to force its way between her skin and the waistband of her panties. Shocked, Laura looked down at her abdomen, now much flatter than it had been, but still not quite back to normal. There, emerging out of the top of her panties, was a dark green leech-creature – or so she thought at first. But this one was more worm-like – long and slender, with no visible eyes. Its flattened underside was pressed against her skin, while its back was gently rounded and rose only a couple of millimetres above her skin, though it was almost half an inch wide. As more of the worm emerged from her panties, Laura noticed another one sneaking out beneath her waistband. Curiously, she continued to watch them as they both began to climb up her torso.

The first one was almost up to her breast before its tail-end left her panties. She guessed it was about six inches long – perhaps a little less. She tried to pull it off her skin, but she could not get a grip on it. She tried harder, pinching her skin together beneath it and digging her nails underneath its sides in an attempt to rip it off – but it seemed almost welded to her skin. It oozed slowly and inexorably forward, performing a U-turn as it started climbing the underside of her left breast. A minute later, it had reached her nipple. At this point its front end stretched forward, tapering into a narrow point, which then pressed downwards into the centre of her nipple. The pink flesh yielded for a moment, and then recoiled as the tip of the worm achieved penetration. Laura felt a tiny stab of pain.

“Ow!” she exclaimed, renewing her efforts to pull the worm off. “Help! These worms are trying to burrow into my breasts!”

Mr Dawes marched over. He looked dispassionately at the worms, then he drew back his hand and dealt Laura a ringing slap across the face, causing her to gasp and turn frightened eyes up at him.

“Put up your hand if you want to speak!” he said to her. “And leave those worms alone – I’m sure they know what they’re doing.” He turned on his heel and returned to the front of the classroom.

Now, of course, Laura’s classmates were all watching her worms with interest. Fully half of the first one was now inside her left breast, and she was tugging ineffectually at its rear end, which was still stuck firmly to her breast flesh. Her nipple was stretched to double its usual width in order to accommodate the thickest part of the worm’s body. The second worm had now reached her right nipple and was in the process of narrowing its head to a point. Laura gasped as another tiny stab of pain told her that it had started burrowing into her nipple. Helplessly she watched as the tail end of the first worm slid inside her left breast and then disappeared from view, leaving a little hole in the centre of her nipple. She tried to pull the second worm off her right breast, but it was as futile as before, and eventually she gave up and simply watched as it slowly burrowed fully into the middle of her nipple. Once it had disappeared, she watched her breasts suspiciously, wondering what would happen next.

But nothing did.


“Consider yourself re-appointed,” said Sam to Robert Short as she paced the Oval Office, her bare feet squishing into the various piles of poo she had left on the carpet. “I’m going to need your experience and assistance as I get myself acquainted with this job.”

Robert nodded. He was a tall, gray-haired man in his fifties – handsome in a distinguished sort of way, and famously married to actress Greta Reed, who was twenty years his junior. “Yes, you’re completely unqualified to lead this country, aren’t you?” he observed. “You shouldn’t be president – I should!”

Sam stopped pacing, and stared at him fiercely. “You just throw away that thought right now, Mister!” she said. “I can always have you replaced, you know – you’re not the only one who can help me! Consider yourself lucky you’re back in your job.”

“But you have no political experience!” said Robert, unruffled. “Tell me – what would you do if Korea started testing long-range nuclear-capable weapons?”

“That,” said Sam, “is why I need you. But don’t think you have all the answers! The world is changing – and quickly. The old style of government is rapidly becoming obsolete. These gateways to hell will, I am sure, shortly start issuing demons from the bowels of hell – and what will you do when that starts happening? How many demons have you conversed with lately? You haven’t? Well I have!”

“You have?” said Robert, surprised. “Real demons?”

“Yes – both in hell and out of it. I’m not just some whore Carl picked up off the street, you know! I’m in this position for a reason!”

“All right, all right,” said Robert, placatingly. “Let’s suppose Carl knew what he was doing when he appointed you. What do you…”

But he was interrupted by a buzzer on the desk. Sam stared at it.

“Press the button?” suggested Robert.

Sam found a button next to the buzzer, and pressed it. “Hello?” she said.

A woman’s voice came over the speaker. “General Floyd to see you, Madam President.”

“Send him in,” said Sam. She looked up at Robert. “You were saying?”

“It can wait,” said Robert, as the general entered the room. The two men shook hands.

“Madam President,” said the general, a thick-set man of Robert’s age. Medals festooned his uniform. “The prisoner has disappeared.”

“You let him escape?” said Sam, hardly believing her ears.

“He did not escape,” the general corrected her. “He disappeared. Into thin air. Our monitors recorded the whole thing.”

Sam’s brow furrowed. “Did you manage to find out who he was?”

“No,” the general admitted. He passed a photograph to the vice president. “Odd-looking chap – and never said a word.”

Robert looked at the photo, and shrugged.

“May I?” said Sam. She took the photo from Robert, and her eyes widened as she looked at the man. “Oh my God!”

“You know him?” asked the general in surprise.

“Kind of,” said Sam, shuddering. “Though he did not look like this when I met him. The eyes, though, and the shape of the face – it can’t be anyone else. His name’s Mordelus – he’s a demon. No wonder he disappeared.”

“But why would a demon want to assassinate the president?” asked the general. “He was doing what the demons would have wanted, wasn’t he?”

Sam nodded. “Yes, he was. But for some reason, Mordelus wants me to be the ruler of the planet. He told me as much. That’s why I seized the opportunity to become vice president, when it presented itself.” She paused, and leaned on the edge of her desk while she commenced pooping again. “Mmmph,” she said, straining with the effort. This was a thick one.

“Ruler of the planet?” echoed the vice president. “Are you planning to conquer other nations, then?”

“I don’t know,” said Sam with a sigh. “Once the infection has covered the globe, I was thinking of just declaring myself Queen of the Earth. If any nations object, we’ll conquer them. Something like that.”

“Hot damn!” said the general. “Finally, a president with balls! Uh, pardon me, Madam President – no offence meant.”

“None taken,” said Sam. “Do you know how Kimberly Woodridge is?”

“She was taken to the hospital, I believe, and is still there. Her mother has moved out, and has gone to stay at her home in Vermont. I expect Kimberly will join her there shortly.”

Sam nodded. “A shame. I enjoyed sleeping with her – but never mind. Where’s my friend Erin?”

“Last time I saw her,” said the general, “she was downstairs, being raped by my staff.”

“Oh,” said Sam. “Well could you ask her to come in here, please?”

Robert Short looked pained. “Madam President, you don’t just ask the leader of the country’s military to fetch someone for you! You have aides for that.”

“So where are my aides?” asked Sam, shrugging.

“They are at your beck and call,” said Robert. “Just press the intercom on your desk, and ask Jackie to send one of them in.”

“Oh,” said Sam. “Okay.” She pressed the button and said, “Jackie, please would you send in one of my aides. Thanks.” She turned to General Floyd. “General, I’d like to meet with you this afternoon to discuss plans for quelling all forms of religious worship in this country. Except,” she added after a sudden thought, “the worship of Satan and the demons of hell.”

The general raised an eyebrow, but said, “Very well, Madam President. I imagine that will be quite an undertaking.”

“Not really,” said Sam. “Once the infection has spread to all parts of the country, I suspect very few people, if any, will still want to worship God. Even so, we might encounter … resistance.”

A middle-aged man entered. “Good afternoon Madam President,” he said. “My name is Douglas…”

“Do I have any young, pretty, female aides?” asked Sam.

The man looked taken aback. “Uh, I suppose so, Madam President.”

“Then please could you go out there, and send one of them in here instead.”

Douglas nodded curtly, and left the room.

Sam took a seat behind her desk, then smiled at Robert and the general. “I like to surround myself with young, pretty women.”

Robert chuckled. “Don’t we all?” he said.

“I’m sure you do,” said Sam. “Speaking of which, any time you want to fuck me, feel free to ask. The same goes for you, General.” Then her expression turned severe. “I will not, however, tolerate being raped.”

Both Robert and General Floyd looked startled. “Yes, of course, Madam President,” said the general, and Robert nodded.

A young woman entered, wearing nothing at all but streaks of poo on her torso and thighs. She was blonde, slim, maybe twenty-three years old, and very pretty. “Madam President,” she said with a little curtsy.

Sam smiled, enchanted. “What’s your name, honey?” she asked.

“Ellie,” said the woman. “Ellie Dash.”

“Well, Ellie,” said Sam, “I have a feeling that you and I are going to become good friends. Now, would you be so kind as to fetch my friend Erin Moss? She’s downstairs, getting raped by the general’s staff. Or at least she was.”

“Certainly, Madam President,” said Ellie. She curtsied again, then said, “Um, Madam President?”

“Yes Ellie?”

“What if they rape me too?” asked Ellie. She showed no sign of fear at the prospect – she sounded as if she was merely worried it would prevent or delay the performance of her task.

“Tell them the president will be angry if they delay Erin … or yourself … any further.”

“Yes, Madam President,” said Ellie, and she left.

Despite the fact that she was a couple of years Ellie’s junior, Sam felt as if she had been talking to a much younger woman. Even so… “Jackie, how many aides do I have, exactly?”

“Hundreds,” came the reply. “I don’t have the exact figure.”

“If I may, Madam President?” said Robert Short.

“Yes?” said Sam.

“Perhaps a little explanation of how things work around here is required…”

“Well of course it is!” snapped Sam. “That’s why you’re here. General, thank you very much – I’ll talk to you later.”

The general got to his feet. “Madam President,” he said, then he turned and left.

“You have aides of various different ranks,” said Robert. “Their job is not, as you seem to surmise, simply to run errands for you. Their job is to provide you with information. Whenever you make a public appearance, or go into the House, you must be fully acquainted with all the issues and have a couple hundred facts and figures at your fingertips. The job of your aides is to do all that grunt work, provide you with accurate information, and keep you abreast of any new developments so that you are not caught out by a surprise question. You therefore have some very high-ranking aides, such as Douglas Manners…”

“Whom I just rudely dismissed,” said Sam, putting her head in her hands.

“…Who are some of the most important people in the country. And yes – you were rather discourteous to him. Anyway, those aides have their own aides, and those aides have aides beneath them … and down at the bottom of the ladder are interns who do most of the actual fact-gathering…”

“Ah – like Monica Lewinsky?” asked Sam.

“Exactly. Or, I presume, Ellie Dash, though I have not actually met her before. She and other interns do part-time work here, often while still studying at university. It is they who will be assigned the more menial tasks, like fetching your friends from downstairs. But normally, you would assign the task to someone like Douglas, and he would pass it down the ladder.”

“All right,” said Sam. “Thank you. Now, do we have any girls of high school age working here?”

“No,” said Robert. “Would you like some?”

“Yes,” said Sam. She pressed the buzzer. “Jackie, please send in Douglas … whatever his name is.”

“Manners,” said Robert quietly.

“Manners!” said Sam. “Immediately. Thanks!”

Douglas Manners entered, looking a little wary. “Douglas,” said Sam, “I apologise for my previous abruptness. I still have a lot to learn, and didn’t realise you were a high-ranking guy.”

“Thank you, Madam President,” said Douglas, inclining his head.

“Douglas, I want some more interns,” said Sam. “Young girls – fifteen or sixteen years old. Fourteen, even, if they’re nicely developed. They must all be pretty, reasonably slim, with C-cup or larger breasts, and none of them taller than five feet three inches.”

Douglas nodded. “How many would you like?” he asked.

“Um, make it a dozen,” said Sam. “And I want them stationed in this very office. Make sure they’re all wearing string-fronted panties – I think I prefer that to total nudity.”

“Very well,” said Douglas. “Blondes? Brunettes? Any particular race?”

“Doesn’t matter,” said Sam. “I prefer Caucasian, but if you find any particularly pretty Latino or black girls, then great. But they must all be clean-shaven – you know.”

Douglas nodded. “It shall be done,” he said.

“Thanks Douglas,” said Sam, smiling.

She sighed happily and leaned back in her chair. “I think I’m going to like this job, Robert,” she said.

“Uh-huh,” said Robert.


In Sam and Erin’s old place of work, Toby Marshall and Frank Pond were in the middle of fucking Vicky Bauer on the floor of Toby’s office, when a naked Amanda Prieto ran into the room. “Hey guys!” she said excitedly. “Have you heard the news?”

“What news?” grunted Toby, thrusting hard into Vicky’s anus.

“Sam’s president!” exclaimed Amanda.

“What?” said Frank. “What happened to Edgar?”

“Not president of the company!” said Amanda, rolling her eyes in exasperation. “President of the United States!”

Vicky looked up in astonishment. “You’re kidding!” she said. “How could that be?”

“President Woodridge announced her as his vice president this morning, and then he promptly got shot in the head! So I guess that made Sam president!”

“But how did she become vice president in the first place?” demanded Frank, who was finding it hard to concentrate on reaching his climax inside Vicky’s cunt.

“I don’t know,” said Amanda. “But you know that car that picked up her and Erin on Wednesday night, after Serena’s bachelorette party? I’m guessing that was something to do with the president.”

“Maybe she’ll call us,” said Vicky hopefully, “and tell us what happened.”

Amanda snorted. “Fat chance,” she said. “She’s moving in different circles now. I’m sure she has other things on her mind.” She stroked her pregnant belly absent-mindedly.

But an hour later, when Vicky was back at her desk, her phone rang. “Hello?” she said.

“Vicky! Hi! It’s Sam and Erin! We’ve got you on speakerphone.”

“No way!” said Vicky excitedly. “Congratulations, Sam – I hear you’re the president!”

“Yeah – weird huh?”

“Very!” agreed Vicky. “How did it happen?”

“Long story – but it’s what the demons want me to do. Anyway, I was wondering if you could make it down here sometime soon? I’ll get you a job here at the White House if you like.”

Vicky squealed with delight. “Really? Oh Sam! Yes please! I thought you’d probably forget about me, now you’re president and everything.”

“Forget about you? How could we?” This was Erin’s voice. “But first we want to hear you say that you’re a lesbian.”

Vicky blushed. “Well I guess I can’t exactly deny it any more,” she said. “All right – I’m a lesbian!”

“What about your boyfriend?” This was Sam.

Vicky thought about this. “Well, I guess I love him, but I … I’d rather be with you two.”

“Nice to hear – but we probably won’t get to spend all that much time together, what with me having to do president stuff. I was wondering if you wanted to bring Scott with you.”

Vicky felt a strange reluctance. “I guess I could ask him,” she said. “But he probably won’t want to come. He’s very attached to his current job.”

“Okay, whatever. Just come down here and let my aides know when you arrive. Don’t let the military guys rape you! They’re buggers for that.”

Vicky laughed. “I’ll try not to! See you soon, then!”


Vicky jumped to her feet and hurried through to Toby’s office. “I quit!” she said. “I’ve just been offered a job by Sam.”

“Oh!” said Toby. “Well … congratulations. Damn – that’s three of you! How am I expected to run a department like this…? Ah well, but I guess that’s not your problem. Hey…” And here he looked up at her hopefully. “Any chance of a final fuck before you leave?”

Vicky smiled. “Sure!” she said. “In fact, why don’t we get Frank and Thomas in here, so I can take on all three of you?”

Toby grinned. “Sounds like a plan,” he said. “Tom! Frank! Get in here!”


Millie and Melissa had not been home for long when their doorbell rang. Taking off her transparent panties (which hurt!) so that her voluminous poo spilled over the floor, Millie skipped to the door and opened it. There, holding a box of chocolates, was Chelsea, wearing just a pair of panties.

“Hi Chelsea!” said Millie. “Do come in. Still uninfected?”

“Yes – by the skin of my teeth,” said Chelsea, stepping across the threshold. “Anyway I wanted to thank you for being so cool and not giving me away, even though you think it’s in my best interests to be infected. So I bought you these.”

“Why thank you!” said Millie, smiling brightly. She opened the box. “These look lovely!” she said. “They look a bit melty, though – I’ll put them in the fridge.”

“Sure you won’t try one first?” suggested Chelsea. “They’re totally yummy – even when warm.”

Millie smiled. “All right!” she said. She took one and popped it in her mouth. “Mmmm,” she said. “Gorgeous!” Then she turned and trotted towards the kitchen. Halfway there, her steps slowed, and stopped. She turned quickly back towards Chelsea. “You – you drugged these!” she exclaimed.

“I feel it’s for your own good,” said Chelsea, with a shrug.

Melissa shuddered and sank to the ground. “Oh God – I’m covered in poo!” she moaned. “And naked! And pregnant! Whatever must you think of me?”

“I think you’re awesome,” said Chelsea firmly. She pulled Millie to her feet. “I’d be infected by now if it weren’t for you. Now pull yourself together, and let’s get Melissa to take one of these.”

Millie nodded. “Yes – good idea,” she said. “Ugh – but can I at least clean myself up first?”

“No – your sister will be suspicious if you do,” said Chelsea. “Come on.”

“Hey Mel!” said Millie brightly, as she entered Melissa’s bedroom with Chelsea following behind. “Look who’s here! And she’s brought us chocolates to thank us for not turning her in.”

“Cool!” said Melissa. “Hi Chelsea!”

Millie opened the box. “Here,” she said, “why not try one? They’re really nice!”

Melissa peered at them. “I’m sure they are,” she said. “But they look a bit melty – why don’t you pop them in the fridge for a while?”

“Oh I will,” said Millie. “But why not have one first? They’re really, really gorgeous...”

Melissa looked from Millie to Chelsea, and then back to Millie. “My God!” she said. “They’ve got that pinworm medication in them, haven’t they?”

Millie nodded. “Please, Mel!” she begged. “I can’t be uninfected without you!”

“No way,” said Melissa firmly. “It’s pointless – we discovered that, didn’t we? If we uninfect ourselves, we’ll be miserable. We’ll still get raped, and we’ll still have to endure the same things as all the other girls … only we won’t enjoy it like they will. Oh no! I’m not going to uninfect myself! And if you’re sensible, Millie, you’ll reinfect yourself a.s.a.p.”

Chelsea frowned. “I’ll hold her down, Millie – you get one of the chocolates into her mouth.” She pushed Melissa down on to the bed, threw a leg over her waist, and sat down on top of her, pinning her shoulders to the bedclothes.

“No!” said Millie. “I’m not going to uninfect her against her will. It’s not right.”

“Yes it is, though,” said Chelsea. “I just uninfected you against your will – do you regret it?”

“Well…” said Millie. “Not exactly…”

“Not exactly?” said Chelsea. “Good heavens, girl, is it really so wonderful to be infected?”

Millie thought about all the poo, and shuddered. “I guess not,” she said. She looked down at her heavily pregnant belly. “Oh God,” she muttered. “I wonder what’s going to happen about this?”

“Hopefully you’ll miscarry,” said Chelsea.

“Well I, for one, am looking forward to giving birth,” said Melissa obstinately. “And I damn well hope those leech thingies get you both.”

“Oh Mel, you don’t mean that,” said Millie, looking crestfallen.

Melissa sighed. “No, I guess I don’t,” she said. “But I do resent you trying to uninfect me – and I want you both to promise not to try that again.”

“But Mel!” exclaimed Millie in distress.

“Promise!” said Melissa firmly.

“All right,” said Millie with a sigh. “I promise.”

Chelsea rolled her eyes. “Great,” she said. “Well I suppose one twin on my side is better than none.”

Millie smiled apologetically. “So what happens now? Do you think we can get Professor Rennie uninfected again?”

Chelsea nodded. “It’ll be tricky, but it may be our only chance.” She fished a folded piece of paper out of her panties. “I have her home address here – I suggest we pay her a visit tonight.”

“Good idea!” said Millie. “Mel, will you come with us?”

“I don’t think so,” said Melissa slowly. “I disapprove of this venture – I don’t want to be a part of it.”

“But you won’t oppose us?” asked Millie.

“No,” said Melissa. “I won’t oppose you.”

Millie smiled. “Thank you,” she said.


Donnie arrived home and kicked off his shoes. “Hi Mum!” he called out. “You okay?”

“Yes thank you darling,” said Grace from the couch in the living room.

Donnie went through to see her. “Mom!” he exclaimed in horror. “You’re … naked!”

“Yes dear,” said Grace with a smile, as she slid a thick black dildo in and out of her anus. “Ooh, this feels nice!” Cockroaches were crawling all over her, but she paid them no heed.

“But Mom!” cried Donnie, upset. “You got infected?”

“Yes – some boys came round and squirted me in the mouth with water guns. But don’t worry – I’m fine, honestly.”

Donnie stared in shock at the black dildo, and then at his mother’s belly. “Mom, you’ve … grown!” he said.

“Hmm, yes, I do seem to be a little bigger,” agreed Grace. “I’m not sure what that’s about.” She spread her legs wide and beckoned to him. “Lie with me, Donnie,” she said. “I feel like a cuddle.”

Donnie shook his head and backed away. “No Mom – you’re not yourself!” He ran upstairs and shook his father awake. “Dad!” he said. “Mom’s infected!”

“Oh Christ!” said Malcolm, jumping out of bed. “How the hell…?”

“Some boys squirted her with water guns,” said Donnie. “What are we going to do, Dad?”

“Take her to the hospital!” said Malcolm. “We have to get that baby out of her before something awful happens to it.”

“Like what?” asked Donnie.

“I don’t know!” said Malcolm. “But we have to try…”

“What if she gets even more messed up at the hospital?” asked Donnie. “You think the doctors and nurses aren’t infected?”

Malcolm stopped in his tracks. “Of course they will be,” he said. “Damn! We’ll just have to deliver the baby ourselves.”

“What?!” said Donnie. “Do you have the first idea how…”

“No!” snapped Malcolm. “But do you have a better idea?”

Donnie shrugged. Then he clutched his father’s arm. “Aunt Eileen!”

Malcolm’s eyes widened. “Yes!” he said. “She may still be uninfected. It’s worth a shot.” He picked up the telephone. “Fetch your mother’s address book,” he said. “It’s on…”

“I know where it is,” said Donnie. He ran down to the kitchen and pulled the address book off the shelf where the phone books were kept.” Turning to the correct page as he ran back upstairs, he handed the book to his father, who dialled, and waited.

“Hello – is Eileen there? It’s Malcolm, her brother-in-law. Oh, well when do you expect her back? Okay, I’ll try her cell. Thanks.” He sighed as he put the phone down. “She’s at work,” he said. “Let’s try the cell.” He tried another number.

“Hello! Eileen? It’s Malcolm! How are you? Good, good. Listen … oh, not yet, but that’s why I’m calling. I have to ask – are you infected? Oh, thank goodness! Hey, how soon can you get here? I don’t want to risk taking Grace to the hospital, but obviously someone needs to deliver the baby when it arrives… What, bring her to you? Well, I’d rather not move her, if at all possible… Look, I’ll make it worth your while… Oh thank you, thank you! So how soon can you be here? Excellent! Just let me know when your flight is due into Logan – I’ll be there to pick you up. Bye – and good luck!” He put the phone down. “She’ll catch the next flight.”

Donnie shook his head. “She’s travelling alone? Bad idea…”

“She’s a smart woman; I’m sure she’ll be fine,” said Malcolm.

“In the meantime, what do we do about Mom?” asked Donnie.

“Just keep an eye on her, I suppose,” said Malcolm. “Stop her leaving the house.”

Donnie nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Oh by the way – what do you think of the news?”

“About the president?” said Malcolm, and he shook his head. “Troubling.”

“Our new president is kind of hot,” said Donnie, “but who the hell is she?”

“God knows,” said Malcolm. “Let’s switch on the news – see if we can find out anything about her.”

They tried CNN. Lead anchor Victor Alessi was fucking a naked girl who looked to be about fourteen years old. Every so often he would slap her face, eliciting a little shriek. “Opposition to the new president has been confined to those parts of the country that remain largely uninfected, such as Kansas and Colorado,” said Victor. “Reverend Benny Halliwell, leader of the newly-formed Citizens Against the Sex Plague, or CASP, had this to say.”

The scene switched to a podium, surrounded by fully-clothed men and women (a strange sight already, thought Donnie). Reverend Halliwell, a stern-looking man in his sixties, waved a warning finger as he spoke. “Doubt not, brothers and sisters! This is the end of the world, as prophesied in the book of Revelation. The leader of the free world is now a pawn of the forces of evil, and must be resisted at all costs! One need only look at her name – Samantha F. Potter – an anagram of which is The Tramp of Satan! Clearly it is no accident that she comes out of nowhere and miraculously succeeds to the presidency, minutes after she is announced as vice president! Clearly she was behind the assassination, and just as clearly, she is the most treasonous and despicable woman in this country today. And with this morning’s declaration of martial law, this Tramp of Satan is in a position to enact whatever hideous and depraved laws that strike her whim!”

The scene shifted back to the studio. “And the crazy old bastard gibbered on like that for an hour,” said Victor Alessi. He started pulling the hair of the girl he was fucking. Then he slapped her breasts, one after the other.

“Ow! That hurts, Dad!” the girl whimpered.

“Shut up,” said Victor. “In other news…”

Malcolm switched it off. “I can’t bear to watch!” he said. “It’s awful!”

“Maybe,” suggested Donnie uncomfortably, “once Mom’s given birth … we should just … drink the water…”

Malcolm sighed. “Donnie – I know, it’s tempting. I wish I could tell you to stick it out and everything will be okay – but I don’t see that there’s any hope of things going back to the way they were.”

Donnie sank into a chair. “Does that mean you’ll be infecting yourself?”

His father shook his head. “Not me. I’ll fight it until the bitter end. But if you want to infect yourself, I won’t blame you.”

Donnie sat up a little straighter. “No Dad – I’ll fight it too.”

“Good boy,” said Malcolm proudly, patting his son’s shoulder.


At eight o’clock that night, Millie and Chelsea were standing nervously outside Professor Rennie’s front door. Millie was still apparently pregnant, though she had not grown at all since becoming uninfected. They rang the doorbell and waited.

After nearly a minute, the door opened to reveal the professor, naked and covered with streaks of poo. “Hi,” she said with a wide smile. “What can I do for you lovely girls? Oh – it’s Melissa, isn’t it? Or Millie? I see you got infected…”

“It’s Millie,” said Millie. “And I’m not infected, despite appearances. Professor, we’re sorry to have to do this to you, but…”

Chelsea leaped forward and tackled the forty-year-old woman, bringing her to the ground with a heavy thud. Then she sat on the professor’s chest, and started prying the woman’s jaws open. “This is for your own good, Professor!” she said as Marion struggled and squealed. “The pill, Millie!”

“Save it!” gasped Marion, flailing her head about in a futile attempt to shake Chelsea’s iron grip. “I’m not infected!”

Chelsea stopped, frowning. “You could’ve fooled me!”

“I did – that’s the whole point!” said Marion. “I’m taking great precautions to appear as if I’m infected. This” – she indicated the brown streaks on her torso – “is chocolate syrup mixed with peanut butter.”

“So – your bodyguard didn’t rape you?” asked Millie in surprise.

“Oh, he did,” said Marion grimly. “But I already had a pinworm pill tucked away in my cheek. After he had finished with me and left, I just crunched it up. I didn’t have a chance of being infected.”

“Awesome!” said Millie, delighted. “So you’re still working on the problem of how to cure everyone?”

“Indeed I am!” said the professor. “In fact, this very afternoon I went up to the reservoir and emptied three dozen bottles of crushed-up pinworm pills into the water. I just hope it remains a potent enough cure by the time it gets to people’s houses. Of course, the curative effects wear off after ten minutes or so, but hopefully those who have been cured will be smart enough to avoid drinking the water again.”

“So you’re sure it’s the water?” asked Millie. “Is that how the infection is spreading?”

The professor nodded. “If you look under a drop of ordinary tap water, you’ll see literally dozens of xenazoan zygotes. I don’t know how they got into the water supply, but it probably wouldn’t have taken much – they duplicate themselves with astonishing speed, dividing up to ten times every hour. It’s the water, I think, more than the raping and the green leeches, that is responsible for spreading this plague across the entire globe.”

“But surely,” said Chelsea, “if the xenazoa are in the water, then they’re also in the air all around us?”

Marion shook her head. “I think they’re too heavy to be airborne. Of course, if someone were to sneeze on you … but otherwise, I don’t suppose you’d be in much danger from breathing ordinary air.”

Millie nodded. “That’s good,” she said.

“So where’s your twin?” asked Marion.

Millie sighed. “Re-infected. In fact we both were, until Chelsea came and tricked me into eating the cure. Melissa is adamant that she wants to stay infected though.”

“What’s your plan now, Professor?” asked Chelsea. “Mass production of pinworm pills?”

Marion shook her head. “No, the pills are far too clumsy to effect a reversal of the global infection,” she said. “What I need to do is isolate the specific curative ingredient in the pill. Then, hopefully, we can mass-produce that – get it into the air if possible.” She smiled weakly. “It’s a slim chance, really, but it’s the only one we’ve got right now.”

Chelsea’s expression was grim. “Then I guess we’re the nucleus of a new underground resistance!” she said. “Unless you have other allies, professor?”

“A couple,” said Marion, “but I like your idea – we should get together and co-ordinate our efforts.”

“Maybe we should join up with that evangelist guy,” suggested Millie. “That one who’s been ranting about our new president.”

“Join CASP?” said Marion. “Bad idea – they’re way too public. I’d be surprised if they last through the weekend, in the light of this evening’s news.”

“What news?” asked Millie.

“You haven’t heard?” said the professor in surprise. “Oh – well it’s important that you should know. Samantha Potter just announced in a press conference that uninfected citizens are enemies of the State, and should be infected by force by anyone able to do so. Now that martial law is in effect, I wouldn’t be surprised if her generals are even now planning to swoop down on Reverend Halliwell and his followers, ready to rape all the women and force all the men to drink infected water.”

“Wow!” said Millie. “I saw her on the T.V. – she seemed, well, quite nice! And very young, and inexperienced.”

“Well, she’s infected,” said Marion. “She may think she’s doing what’s best for the uninfected people of this country – we all know that the infection has certain … delusory effects. Plus, she’s just become president and already some guy’s calling her Satan’s slut, or whatever it was – that’s got to rankle.”

“You’re not condoning her actions, surely!” said Chelsea.

“Of course not – just explaining them,” said Marion. “Obviously she has to be stopped before she starts rounding up all the uninfected people and putting them in concentration camps.”

Millie looked horrified. “You don’t really think she’ll do that, do you?”

“Who knows?” said the professor. “The country’s going to shit – quite literally, in fact. Nothing that Samantha Potter does is likely to surprise me, at this point.”

“We have to uninfect her,” said Chelsea.

“How?” asked Millie in surprise. “She’ll be surrounded by bodyguards wherever she goes!.”

But Marion’s eyes had lit up. “Yes!” she said. “That’s it – we need to uninfect Samantha Potter. Who else has a better chance of reversing the plague than the president of the United States? And I think I have an idea of how to do it. Come here – I Tivo’d her press conference.”

She switched on the television, and they saw Samantha standing on a podium. Two naked teenage girls were standing behind her, and as Samantha made her announcement, one of them knelt down and started catching Sam’s poo by the armful as it descended from her anus in a steady flow, while the other knelt in front of Sam and started sucking on her pussy. At one point Sam said, “Please excuse me while I have an orgasm – my new high-school interns are making me … so … ahhh … aahhhhh … AAAAAAHHHHH!!!”

Marion switched off. “It appears she likes teenage girls,” she said. “Millie, I think you should go and apply for a job as a White House intern.”

Millie’s face paled. “You’re kidding!” she said. “Why me?”

Chelsea snorted. “You’re cuter than I am,” she said.

“But you have bigger boobs!” countered Millie. “From the looks of those two girls, Samantha Potter likes her interns to be well-endowed in the chest!”

“A good point,” agreed Marion. “Very well, why don’t you both go and apply for a job there.”

Chelsea looked unhappy, but nodded. “All right,” she said. “How are we getting there?”

“I’ll drive you,” said Marion. “Tomorrow morning. You can stay here tonight if you like. But…” She looked at Millie’s pregnant belly. “Shouldn’t we do something about that? Induce a miscarriage or something?”

“Possibly,” conceded Millie, “but Chelsea and I talked about it, and decided that people will be less likely to suspect I’m uninfected if I’m obviously pregnant.”

“True enough,” agreed Marion, “but I worry about what it’ll do to you.”

“Me too,” said Millie, a troubled look on her face.


Sam idly played with her clitoris while she watched Erin fisting two of her youngest new interns at once. The two girls, both aged fourteen, were lying on their backs, either side of Erin – all three of them were half-sunk in a vast pile of poo of Sam’s making. She was still pooping now, in fact – by now she was defecating for almost half an hour at a time, with just a ten minute break before the next lot emerged. She had resigned herself now to reaching a point at which she was pooping continuously – she almost wished she could hurry up and get to that point, since she rather liked the idea of never again being in a state of not pooping.

The carpet Oval Office was by now only visible in a very few places – piles of Sam’s poo were scattered here, there and everywhere, and had settled and spread out to fill in most of the gaps between them. Behind the desk, some of the piles reached nearly three feet in height.

“So, General,” she said. “What are we going to do about this asshole Halliwell?”

“I’m yours to command, Madam President,” said the general, with no trace of humour. “You want me to have him killed?”

“No!” said Sam hastily. “But – perhaps you could arrange for him to become infected? That would, I think, turn him into an outspoken advocate on my behalf.”

The general nodded. “I thought you might feel that way. I have sent some of my people on a mission to infect his water supply. They are awaiting my go-ahead. Halliwell’s security is very tight, but nothing my soldiers can’t handle.”

“Can they handle it without spilling blood?” asked Sam anxiously.

The general smiled. “I will ask them to do their best – but I won’t allow them to jeopardise their own lives on that account.”

“No – of course not,” said Sam. “I’ll leave it in your capable hands then.”

“Madam President?” said Fay Buckley, one of Sam’s chief advisors. She was currently on her hands and knees behind Sam’s chair, half-buried in Sam’s poo, and eating more poo from a pile in front of her. She was naked but for a pair of panties, which were so full of poo that they had descended to her knees under the weight.

“Yes, Fay?” said Sam. “And please – call me Sam.”

“Okay Sam – have you given any thought to my suggestion?”

Sam nodded. “I’d like to think about it some more though.” She looked at the clock on the wall. “It’s late,” she said. “Let’s call it a night. Erin, please stay – the rest of you may go.”

As Fay, the general, and the two high school girls departed, Erin came over and kissed Sam on the lips. “Coming to bed?” she asked.

Sam nodded. “I think I’m about to give birth though!” She winced as she eased herself off her chair and lay down into a large pile of poo.

Erin smiled and patted her own huge belly. “Me too,” she said. She lay down next to Sam.

The two women gave birth almost simultaneously, and they made love while giant turds extruded from their well-stretched vaginas. Ignoring the leeches, which arched away across the room, seeking escape, they slid their hands into each other’s cunts as the diarrhoea-flood thickened and became sludgy. Then Sam scooted down Erin’s body, and pushed her arm further up inside her lover. Her fingers found the opening to Erin’s womb, still dilated, and she pushed her fist through the hole, sinking her arm up to the elbow. Then she slid her other hand into Erin’s vagina, causing the younger woman to wince and squirm, though she did not cry out. Soon both arms were buried to the elbow.

Sam chuckled. “Erin, there isn’t a man alive who could satisfy you now.”

Erin sighed. “Yes, there’s not a lot of friction when I’m being fucked these days,” she said. “I hate to say it, but what I really need is a demon cock.”

Sam nodded. “I know what you mean. Some of those demons are pretty huge.”

“I just wish they wouldn’t torture and mutilate me in my dreams,” said Erin. “Otherwise the dreams would be almost pleasant.”

Sam withdrew her arms, and then started working a fist into Erin’s anus. “Your ass is still nice and tight,” she observed. “Maybe we should go and find some military guys to give us some backdoor fun.”

Erin smiled. “I think I’d rather just go to bed with you,” she said. “It’s been a long day.”

“It has,” agreed Sam. “Very well – let’s hit the poo.”


“Mel,” said Millie, “Chelsea and I are going to Washington tomorrow. I’m going to try to get a job in the White House.”

“Are you kidding? Why? And what makes you think you’ll be able to get a job in the White House?”

“The new president likes high-school girls,” said Millie, “apparently. Anyway it’s a chance to uninfect the president – we’ve got to take it.”

“I understand. I don’t like it, but I understand. I won’t say anything to anyone. I think you’re crazy though.”

“Thanks Mel. But … I was kind of hoping you might come along…”

There was a pause. “You really want me along, Millie? Despite the fact that I’m infected?”

“Of course I do,” said Millie. “You’re my sister and I love you. Chelsea and Professor Rennie might object … but can I assure them you won’t try to sabotage our mission?”

“Yes – I promise I won’t do that. But Millie – what if you get caught, and they infect you?”

“Then I guess we’ll be together again,” said Millie. “As … lovers.” She shuddered at memories of licking out her sister’s poo-filled vagina.

“That’ll be nice… But I swear I won’t do anything to make it happen. I’ll even wish you luck.”

“Thanks Mel – that means a lot to me. We’ll pick you up tomorrow morning, okay?”



As Laura climbed into bed, she spread her legs for the webcam Danny had set up. At his request she had emailed the link for the feed to everybody at school, including the teachers, so she knew that anyone who wanted to watch her would be doing so. She parted her pussy lips with her fingers and with her other hand began to play with her left nipple. Her breasts, she noticed suddenly, had grown since this morning – they were at least a cup size larger than usual – maybe even two cup sizes. Was this, she wondered, something to do with the worms? Also, her nipples were enlarged, and elongated – they were now nearly an inch long, and three quarters of an inch wide. As she played with her nipple, brown goo started to ooze from the end – she caught some on the tip of her finger and raised it to her lips. It tasted like poo.

The cockroaches covering her bed were by now swarming all over her, and several had crawled between her parted labia and into her vagina. She noticed with a smile that many of them were carrying egg-cases.

Danny entered the room, naked, with his huge cock pointing at the ceiling. “Hi, sis,” he said.

Laura smiled happily, and held out her arms in invitation. “Fuck me, my darling brother!” she said.

But Danny did not. Someone else had just entered the room – a shabby-clothed old man who was clutching a bottle in a brown paper bag. He grinned toothlessly at Laura.

“Who’s this?” asked Laura in alarm, closing her legs and covering her breasts.

“His name’s Jim,” said Danny. “I found him wandering on the street. He’s going to fuck you.”

Laura looked at the old man with revulsion. “Whatever you say, Danny,” she said. She had given Danny her body – now she supposed it was his to do with as he wished. “I’ll fuck anybody – or anything – that you tell me to fuck.” She removed her hands from her chest, and spread her legs again.

“That you will,” said Danny. “Jim, why don’t you crap all over my sister’s pussy, and then use your shit as a lubricant?”

The old man grinned. “All right,” he said. He untied the string holding his trousers up, and they dropped to the floor. Underneath, his huge penis was erect and his pubic hair was as grey as the hair on his head. He climbed on to the bed, none too nimbly, and squatted over Laura’s pussy. After a moment of straining, a torrent of diarrhoea suddenly burst out of his anus, deluging Laura’s pussy and belly. Laura shrieked as spatters of the liquid poo hit her breasts and face. Then she noticed several white worms, about six inches long, and much rounder of body than the worms which had entered her breasts. “Ugh!” she exclaimed in horror.

“Cool!” said Danny. “Those must be pinworms. I’d heard a rumour that the infection makes them grow big – I guess it’s true.” He watched, intrigued, as the worms all turned and wriggled blindly towards Laura’s vagina and anus. Then the old man strained again, and another torrent of diarrhoea exploded over Laura’s torso and between her legs. More pinworms were wriggling in the muck. These, two, immediately headed for Laura’s orifices. Danny managed to count eleven which entered her vagina, while approximately double that number wormed their way into her anus. Then the old man grunted again, and Laura was showered with more diarrhoea, and more pinworms. Then the poo firmed slightly, and a long rope of pinworm-infested sludge slithered out and heaped up on top of Laura’s pussy. It kept coming and coming, and after a minute Laura’s entire pelvis was buried beneath a mound of soft brown poo. She shuddered, feeling worms entering her by the dozen.

The old man stopped pooping, and panted. “Thanks,” he said. “I feel better after that.” Then he turned and started, looking a little nonplussed as he saw how much poo covered Laura’s pussy. He aimed his huge cock at the mound, guessing where her vagina would be, and sank himself into the poo. When seven inches of his erection had disappeared into the sludge, he felt his bulbous tip strike flesh, and he manoeuvred himself until he found Laura’s cunt. With a sigh of pleasure, he sank deep within her, the poo sludge between them mostly oozing up over Laura’s abdomen as their crotches came together.

“Wrap your legs around him, Laura,” instructed Danny, “and kiss him. Make love to him like you would to me.”

Laura did as she was told, though the man’s stale cigarette breath made her retch. She dutifully entwined her tongue with his, and did not object when he pinched and twisted her nipples painfully. She felt his penis push through her cervix and into her womb, and she squeezed her vagina muscles so as to give him as much friction as possible.

“I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone,” said Danny, stroking his erection. “Laura, I want you to spend the whole night in bed with Jim. Let him have sex with you as much as he likes, and do whatever filthy thing he wants you to do.”

Without waiting for Laura’s reply, he left her room. Walking across the landing to his own room, he smiled at Candy, who was lying naked on his bed with her legs spread. Squirming insect bodies glittered within her dilated vagina. “You’ll have to fuck my ass,” said Candy grumpily. “My pussy’s full of roaches.”

“So I see,” said Danny with a smile. “Turn over then.”

Candy did so, and then a long column of poo poured out of her anus. “Damn it!” she said. “I hate it when that happens.” The poo landed on the backs of her legs, looping back and forth and building up into a large pile. Then it stopped. “What do you want me to do with it?” she asked.

“Just dump it on the floor,” said Danny. “My mom will clean it up.”

Candy did so, and then Danny plunged his erection into her anus. As he began to thrust inside her rectum, he reached around her to squeeze her breasts. “God, Candy, you’re so hot!” he gasped.

“Yeah, whatever,” said Candy.


Erin, in bed with Sam in the White House, awoke suddenly at a noise coming from the other side of the room. Switching on her bedside light, she gasped as she saw the crack in the opposite wall opening up before her very eyes. First the wallpaper, and then the wall itself, peeled back to reveal a long tunnel, lined with purple flesh. A dull red glow came from hundreds of yards up ahead. Two huge demons were pushing the sides of the tunnel entrance apart.

“Sam!” whispered Erin urgently. “Sam! Wake up!”

Sam mumbled in her sleep, turned over, and then began to snore. Erin stared at the two demons fearfully, as one of them caught sight of her and grinned. It was at least ten feet tall, with four large horns on its head and many more running down its spine. It also had horns on its shoulders. Its skin was a deep red, and shiny, and its penis was huge – three feet long and at least six inches thick. It had a long, slender tail which it lashed from side to side.

Its companion had no tail, its skin was of a blotchy blue colour, and its penis was a little smaller. It came into the room and approached Erin’s side of the bed. “You wanted demon cocks,” it said to her in a rasping voice. “Your wish is granted.”

Erin shook her head anxiously. “I didn’t mean…” she began, but the demon caught her by the wrist and dragged her out of bed. Poo fell from her belly and legs. She found herself lifted up as easily as if she had been a doll, and then lowered on to the demon’s massive penis. The red demon had by now marched over, and he spread her legs apart.

“Ow … OW!” squealed Erin, as the blue demon’s cock sank deep into her body. But it did not really hurt that badly, as she suddenly realised. And as the demon began bouncing her up and down on its erection, she actually became quite aroused. “Oh God!” she muttered. “Now that’s what I call a cock!”

Both demons chuckled. Then Erin found herself lifted off the blue cock, much to her disappointment, and turned around in mid-air. As she sank back down, she felt the huge penis push against her anus. “Steady on!” she said. “There’s not so much room back there!” But whether the demon’s penis narrowed, or became more pointed at the tip, or something else supernatural occurred, Erin felt the penis slide easily up into her bowels. Then the full girth of the monster cock pushed her anus wide open, and she cried out in pain. As she was lowered further and further, she felt the demon’s penis push deeper and deeper into her body, straightening her large intestine and re-arranging her internal organs to make room. By the time her anus reached the base of the demon’s cock, she guessed that its tip was somewhere between her lungs, perhaps on a level with her armpits. She was finding it difficult to breathe.

“Please!” she gasped. “Please don’t kill me!”

The demons laughed. “You wanted to be fucked by big demon cocks,” said the red one.

Then Erin’s eyes widened as the red demon stepped forward and placed the head of his own erection at the opening to her vagina. “Oh, no way!” she gasped. “There’s no room inside me!”

“I’ll make room,” said the demon. It began to slide its huge red cock into her vagina, which, although normally roomy, was now flattened because of the thick cock in her anus. Nevertheless, the red penis slid slowly but inexorably into her vagina. Tears sprang into Erin’s eyes as she felt her pelvic bones forced apart. Then there was a snap, together with a rush of pain. “OW!” cried Erin. “You bastards – you broke my pelvis!”

They just laughed again. Twelve inches of the red demon’s penis was now inside Erin – it had now reached the end of her womb, and she could feel it. “That’s far enough!” she gasped.

But the red demon merely thrust harder. Erin screamed as she felt something tear inside her. Whether the penis had punched through the end of her womb, or her womb had detached from her vagina and was now being carried deeper into her body on the end of the huge red cock, she had no idea – she just knew that it hurt worse than anything she had ever experienced. Outside of her dreams, of course.

Then it hit her – she was dreaming! She almost laughed with relief, and perhaps might have done if it had not been for the incredible pain she was in. She felt better, at any rate, and tried to simply endure the pain as she felt the goliath red cock force its way up behind her shoulder blades. At this point it squeezed her trachea flat, and she found she could not breathe. Flailing her arms, she vainly tried to catch a breath. Then the demon withdrew as it began to slowly thrust itself in and out of her. Each time it retreated, she took a breath. Each time it thrust forward, she was again without air.

Then the blue demon behind her also began to fuck her. Only something was wrong. With a rush of horror, she realised that whenever it withdrew, her intestine was inverting and being pulled out of her anus along with its penis. For twenty minutes this sickening sensation was repeated over and over again, though it was hard to focus on that with the constant effort of trying to breathe.

Then both demons came inside her, practically together. She felt a rush of fluid high in her chest, which then trickled down towards her belly. The red demon pulled out of her vagina slowly. The blue demon yanked itself out of her anus very quickly – causing her to cry out in pain as a two-foot length of her intestine was pulled out of her anus to swing limply beneath her. She was dropped unceremoniously on to the floor.

“Better fix her,” said the red demon, “or Mordelus will eat us.”

Erin, sprawled weakly on the floor, with blood pouring from her vagina, suddenly felt her insides begin to knit themselves back together. Her intestine turned itself back the right way as it slithered back inside her anus, and the pain from her broken pelvis disappeared as her loins took on their accustomed shape again. The flow of blood from her vagina stopped, and she felt her womb heal itself. She found she could breathe easily again.

“We’ll see you again soon!” said the red demon, and both of them laughed. Then they ran into the tunnel, and were soon gone from sight.

Shaking like a leaf, Erin crawled back into bed. Cuddling up to Sam, she began to cry.


Laura was dreaming. She dreamed that the worms inside her breasts laid hundreds of eggs, which hatched almost immediately. The tiny baby worms quickly grew, causing her breasts to expand massively. By the time the worms had reached adult size, her breasts were bigger than watermelons. She went to the hospital to have the worms removed, and the surgeon operated on her without anaesthetic. When he cut into her left breast, he grinned at the sight of the wriggling worms. Then he climbed up on to the operating table, pulled down his trousers, squatted over her, and defecated on to her breast. A nurse guided it into the slit he had cut, stuffing the poo into the worm-filled breast. For a full minute the surgeon was pooping, and Laura guessed that he produced about six feet of two-inch-diameter poo, all of which went inside her breast.

The surgeon then climbed down, and sewed her back up. Cutting into her right breast, he put his mouth to the slit and then vomited. Laura felt a rush of lumpy fluid pour into her breast, surging among the tightly-packed worms. The surgeon sewed the breast back up, and within minutes the wounds had healed completely, the stitches dissolving away without trace. Despite her disgust, Laura found herself thanking the surgeon, and she let him fuck her on the operating table while the nurse defecated into her open mouth.


Melissa was dreaming. She dreamed that a demon came out of the gateway in her bedroom, and challenged her to a game of chess. If she won, he told her, she would be allowed to remain on Earth. If she lost, she would be taken into hell and raped for all eternity. This seemed fair, so she agreed to play.

She lost, in twelve moves. Yet as the demon dragged her by the hair towards the gateway, she felt her vagina gushing with excitement at the thought of being raped forever. But then she saw the huge penises, covered with little spikes, and as the first one entered her, she screamed at the unbelievable pain as her insides were shredded…

Continue to Part 16

Please email any feedback to

Back to Index