Trust and Toilets
"Where you headed, sweetheart?"
Kierra turns slowly, small hands wiping her tear stained face, eyes red-rimmed,
miserable in the cold night. She sniffles, shuffles toward the car, her slender
arms curving around, crossing in front of her chest. "I-I'm going to the gas
station on Route One," her voice is small, hesitant-she knows she's not supposed
to talk to strangers, but it's so cold, and she is so miserable, just wants to
call her dad, have him come pick her up. Her mother's sharp words, slaps still
resonate in her mind, her stepfather's lazy leer haunts her. She'd waited until
they slept, then left the trailer, still in her PJs.
"Honey, you can't be twelve years old, what are you doing out here in the
cold-in your pajamas?" He leans over, peers up at her through the passenger
side window, noting the sweet flannel top, loose fitting bottoms. He's a big
man, fat, jowls crowding his neck, rolls of flab overspilling his belt,
straining against his button down shirt. It's been a few years since he's seen
the lighter side of 400 pounds. "Come on in here, let's get you warmed up." He
pats the seat next to him, his face shining, a warm smile playing about his
lips. He watches her, eyes sharp, deep set, nodding as she battles with her
mothers voice in her head, the admonitions to never get into cars with strange
men. He pats the seat, smile spreading as she reaches for the door handle,
slides into the seat next to him. "That's a good girl," he murmers, voice soft,
soothing, "good girl."
Kierra sits quietly, nervous, embarrassed that she's still in her plaid PJs,
conscious of how she must look. "I'm fifteen!" she blurts, her eyes averted,
red rising in her cheeks.
"Are you, now?" He grins, his eyes sliding over her shivering form. "You're
awful small for fifteen, but I guess that's okay, isn't it?" He pats her leg,
his hot, beefy hand covering her knee. He nods, letting his hand remain,
humming as he watches her from the corner of his eye. He begins to massage
softly, calculating. "So, what's your name, sweetheart? And what are you doing
out here all by yourself? Your parents must be worried sick."
Kierra shakes her head, strangely soothed by his hand on her knee. She opens
her mouth, closes it, opens it again, her voice small, quavering. "They don't
know I'm gone," she bites back a sob, wipes her eyes angrily, "I want to go live
with my dad." She sags in the seat, eyes down, sure she's made a mistake in
confiding. "Please don't take me back, please don't call the police."
"Sweetie, you don't have to worry about that," his voice is honeyed, smooth, his
hand moving up, rubbing her thigh, his eyes darting over, looking at her. He
coughs, can hardly believe his luck. "I won't get you in trouble . . . does
your daddy know you're going to call him?" He holds his breath, hoping.
"N-no, but I know he'll want me with him-my mom works in the morning, so does my
stepdad-nobody will know I'm gone . . . if you don't tell." Kierra looks up,
her eyes wide, shining. "You promise you won't tell?"
"I promise." His voice is low, conspiratorial, his hand squeezing her thigh.
"But I'm sorry, baby-I can't take you to the phone tonight, I'm just too beat."
He smiles as her face falls, disappointment clear in her pretty face, pale blue
eyes. "Don't worry-I have a motel room right up here, and in the morning we'll
get you to your daddy's, okay?"
"A-a motel room?" Kierra's eyes widen, a small smile lighting her face. "I've
never been to a motel before-do they have a pool?"
He laughs, his voice booming, pendulous belly bouncing up and down. "Well, I
don't know if they have a pool, but I'll bet we could find something to do for
fun." He gives her thigh a pinch, then pulls into the dark parking lot of the
run down motel. He smiles, pulls around back. The motel has been defunct for
nigh on three years, but as the former manager, he still has the passkey, knows
where the power box is, makes use of the rooms when opportunity arises. He
licks his lips, shifts his broad hips to allow his rigid cock room to grow.
Not many opportunities as sweet as this one prancing around. He plans to make
good use of it-and her.
Kierra steps hesitantly into the dark room, her eyes traveling over the dirty
bed, the sparse furnishings. She smiles, sees it in a far better light,
conscious only of the exotic feeling of being in a motel, in a new room, a new
bed. He steps in behind her, a Coleman lamp in each hand. Lighting them, he
sets one on the rickety bedstand, another on the precariously leaning desk
against the wall. "You wait right here!" He smiles, leaving the room for a
moment to crack open the box, turn on the power. He strides ponderously back to
the door, breath coming in excited hitches as he closes it behind him, triple
locks it. Panting, he walks to the bed, pats it expectantly. "Come sit with
me, Kierra, let's get to know each other better." He gulps as she approaches,
drags a sleeve across his sweating lip. He moans softly as the bed depresses
beside him. He watches as her coltish legs fold up under her, her face turns up
expectantly.
"So, Kierra-do you have a boyfriend?" He turns, the bed shaking with the shift
of his massive weight. "Any sweethearts? Secret lovers?"
"No!" Kierra giggles, blushing sweetly. "My mom says I'm not old enough to
have a boyfriend!" She looks up, sees that his smile is gone, his features
dark, displeased. "But-but I do have a boy I like at school." She holds her
breath, hopes she's pleased him. He's done so much for her, been so nice, she
doesn't want to disappoint him.
"Do you?" His voice is soft, low, an eyebrow cocked. "What do you do with
him?"
"S-sometimes we kiss a little." She blushes deeper, looks down.
"How do you kiss?" He leans closer, his breath, sharp and sweet from cigarettes
and beer, is hot on her face. "Show me how you kiss him."
Kiera shakes her head, then stops, seeing his brows come down, a frown form on
his face. She nods hesitantly, leans into him, cheeks burning as her lips brush
his lightly. She pulls back, giggles embarrassedly.
"That's all? That's hardly a kiss at all." His voice is light, disdainful.
"We-we touch our things sometimes," Kierra is frantic, desperate to please, "you
know, like he touches me down there and I touch him."
"Mmmmm," he smiles, his piggish eyes bright in the lamp light, "I like that
game, I play that sometimes, too." He rolls on his side, grunting with the
effort. "We should play that now."
"I-I don't . . ."
"Don't you want to have fun with me? I gave you a ride, let you come to my
motel room, didn't tell on you. I could tell on you now, I could tell your mom
and dad what you do with this boy, the other boys." His voice is viper smooth,
broken only by his heavy breathing.
"No, no!" Kierra's eyes are wide, full of fear. "I want to play with you, I
want to, please!"
"Mmmm, that's a good girl." His hand snakes up her thigh, rubbing softly, then
up, massaging her pussy through the thin flannel of her PJs. He pants heavily,
nuzzles her neck as he throws a meaty leg over one of hers, trapping her. With
a hungry moan, he grasps the elastic at her waist, jerking it down over her slim
hips. His hand moves hungrily to her sweet, hairless mound, fingers poking,
prodding as she whines, her eyes filling with shamed tears. "Fifteen, are you?"
He laughs, his belly jouncing against her, "Fifteen, mmmmm, I like fifteen."
Kierra lies still, her legs spread, body trembling as his calloused hand rubs
roughly, spreading her pussy lips. A fat finger finds her tight hole, begins
grinding into her. This isn't like at school, she's paralyzed, petrified. It
hurts, she wants him to stop, but she told him she would play, doesn't want to
make him mad, make him tell on her. She whimpers as his chubby digit pushes
deeper into her tight snatch, turns her face away from his, unable to bear his
fetid breath burning her face any longer. She stares into the dark, waiting for
him to finish the game.
"Roll on your belly." His voice is hoarse, deep, his breath catching in deep
gasps, his hand firm on her hip, lifting her, moving her. She allows him to
position her, thankful that now he won't be able to see her face, won't be able
to reach her privates anymore. She rests her head on her arms, closes her eyes,
thinking maybe if she feigns sleep he will tire of playing. She lies
motionless, bites her lip as he hooks his fingers under the elastic waist of her
PJs, jerks them down around her knees. His hands, sweaty, hot, grasp her pale
thighs, pull them apart. She feels him rise off the bed, thanks God, thinking
at last he's done. Her cheeks burn in the dim light as she thinks about what
she's let him do. She'll never tell, she knows. It's all her fault, she never
even said no-how would he know she didn't like it if she didn't say so? And now
she can't, he'll know she lied, he'll be mad at her.
He strips his shirt off, staring all the while at her prone form. A shiver of
excitement passes through him as his hands fumble eagerly at his fly. He drops
his trousers, glances down. Impressive at nine thick inches, he can, if he
bends, see the head bobbing under the mass of his belly. He grasps it, works it
eagerly as he climbs back on the bed, heaving himself between her slender legs.
With a strained grunt, he flops onto her, crushing her into the lumpy mattress,
his dewlaps enveloping her as his hips jerk, his cock prodding, pressing against
her smooth pussy. He moans, humping, his cock sliding between her parted lips,
back, forth, back again, seeking, then finding. With a gasping laugh, he
thrusts up hard, forcing his thickness into her small, tight hole.
Kierra gasps, gags under him, her voice small, breathless as his weight crushes
her. She squirms helplessly, her pretty hands clawing at the pillow, clenching
the dirty sheets as he punches up again and again, thrusting cruelly against her
hymen. Her eyes are wide, stunned, her mouth hanging open as she sobs
breathlessly, struggling to take in enough air to cry out, to beg him to stop,
tell him it hurts, it hurts, please stop! His face presses against hers, his
dirty breath filling her nose, his tongue swiping her cheek, licking her tears
off as he heaves frantically over her. Her legs jerk helplessly, her feet
drumming the stained bedding as his cock thrusts into her again and again,
stretching her, tearing her. She grunts, whines reedily under him as her belly
cramps, her hips ache. She mumbles, whimpers, tries to tell him he's tearing
her in two, ripping her in half. But the only sounds are her choked, airy
whines, his gasping grunts and groans, the sick, slapping of his sweat soaked
fat smacking her ass, her thighs over and over. She stares stupidly across the
room, gasping, grunting as his pace quickens. He slams home hard, deep, then
holds, gives a hoarse shout as his cock explodes inside her, filling her
battered hole with his thick seed. He laughs, gasping as his hands grind under
her, seeking her small, sweet little breasts. He sighs, grunting in her ear as
his hips jerk convulsively, fucking his cum deep into her. Kierra moans,
whimpers as he whispers in her ear.
"Whore. Whore." His voice is husky, breathy, "I knew you were a whore, letting
me touch you, telling me you wanted me to play your dirty little game with you.
This is your fault-you worthless whore, this is your fault, your daddy won't
want you now, your mommy will hate you." He grunts, begins to rise, then falls
on her again, crushing her into the bed, humping obscenely against her trembling
ass. He moves hard, smashing her into the musty mattress, reveling in the feel
of her small, gasping body under him. With a satisfied laugh, he rolls off her,
smiles at the bloody cumstreak his cock leaves on her thighs.
Kierra sobs, dragging in deep, hitching breaths. Whining, she struggles to roll
onto her side, her slick thighs sliding across each other. Her belly is on
fire, she curls up, fetal, hugging herself as she hears him begin to snore. Her
lips tremble, she whimpers, whispers, "Mommy. Mommy, I'm sorry . . ." She cries
softly, afraid she'll wake him. She stares desolately into the dark, knows he's
right-she let him do this, she spread her legs for him, let him touch her, told
her she wanted to play the game, her dirty game. She got into his car, even
though she knew not to. She whimpers, hugs herself tighter. She's bad. She's
a bad, stupid girl, nobody will love her now. Her eyes close, she thinks about
the other boys she's played the game with, feels so filthy. So worthless.
The bed shudders, lurches, bringing her back to awareness. She groans, blinks,
her pussy raw, thighs aching. His hand, rough, insistent, grasping her
shoulder, pulling her onto her back. She stares up-into his balls, his cock
bobbing before her face. A hot stink emanates from them, filling her nose. She
tries to turn her head, whimpers as he grabs her hair, jerks her face back. "I
touched you last night, now it's your turn to touch me-with your tongue." His
voice is thick, gravelly. She shakes her head, crying, her small hands pushing
against his thick, flabby thighs.
"Please, please," she sobs, her eyes swollen from crying, "please, that's dirty,
please I don't want to."
"You want me to get dressed, go call you mommy and daddy, tell them what you did
last night, how bad you were?" He jerks her head with each word, his piggy eyes
shining in the dusty light. "I will, I'll call them, tell them you played your
game with me, you let me touch you, let me stick my thing inside you." He
laughs, presses his stinking cock against her lips. "I'll tell them about the
other boys you let touch you, tell them what a whore you are-they'll send you
away forever, they'll hate you." He groans as her mouth opens, her tongue
touches his meat, licks. "That's right, whore, lick it like ice cream, lap it
all up, clean it."
Kierra licks, her belly clenching tight, her voice small, hiccupping as she
whimpers, laps at his thick cock. His fingers stroke her face, then dig
painfully into her cheeks, forcing her jaws wide. With a thick grunt, he
thrusts his swollen meat into her small face, panting as he slams deep, forcing
her tight throat open. He leans forward, the fat of his massive belly
enveloping her face, suffocating her even as his tool stretches her throat, gags
her. He begins thrusting frantically, his fat rolling in waves as he fucks her
pretty mouth, thrills to her retching, writhing under him. His sweaty, stinking
balls slap her chin, his knees grinding into her upper arms, trapping her
beneath him. His flabby belly smacks her face, making a satisfying slapping
noise as he rides her mercilessly, enjoying her struggles almost as much as the
sick spasming of her throat. He smiles at the sound of her feet drumming the
stained bedding, her throat gurgling, small, pathetic whines escaping her nose.
With a sharp cry, he thrusts forward, holds, impaling her throat, pinning her to
the bed as his cock swells, jerks, begins spitting forth wave after wave of
thick, sour cum into her throat, her belly. He feels her belly tighten under
him, moans at the thought of filling that little belly, seeing it tight,
swollen. His hips buck unevenly, he pulls out, splatters the last of his dirty
spunk on her crying face, leaving a long, looping glob on her cheek. He looks
down, watches it trail to her puffy, bruised lips. He grasps his cock, rubs it
across her face, spreading his jizz, running it across her lips. "Do you like
that, Kierra? Isn't that tasty?" He laughs at her breathless sobs, shakes her
head by the hair before heaving himself off her.
Kierra groans, panting, whining as her bruised arms rise up, cover her face.
Her belly heaves, she retches dryly, unable to bring the sour load back up. Her
pretty mouth, swollen, bruised, curves into a miserable frown, the taste so
terrible. She can still smell his filth, the sweat from his balls on her face.
She moans miserably, wishing she was home, that she'd never left. She begins to
cry again, knowing that now her family will hate her. Moaning, she pushes
herself up, stands unsteadily, ashamed at the way he looks at her, smiles.
"Where do you think you're going, Kierra?" His voice is hard, dangerous, at
odds with his lazy smile.
"I-I have to pee?" Her voice is so small, cracking, barely more than a whisper.
She moves slowly, painfully across the room, limping miserably, her arms crossed
over her belly, hugging herself as she shuffles into the dark, dank bathroom.
She sits on the toilet with a moan, then whines as the acidic urine passes over
her torn flesh. She gasps, whimpers as he lumbers in, his half erect cock in
one hand, a pint of beer in the other.
"I need to pee, too." He laughs, his voice high, mocking her. He moves forward
with surprising speed, grabs her hair, jerking her head forward even as he
presses her back against the cold tank of the toilet. Shoving his cock into her
mouth, he lets loose a hot, musky stream of urine, pressing against the back of
her head, howling as she gags, chokes, begins swallowing helplessly. His piss
bubbles out her nose, trickles down her chest as she gulps again and again. He
moans as his stream finally peters out. "Nothing like a long morning piss to
let a man know he's still alive." He laughs, drags her off the toilet, slams
her to her knees on the gritty tile floor. "Did you like that, Kierra? Are you
full yet? I don't think so." He whirls her around, kneeling behind her, begins
rubbing his stiffening cock between her ass cheeks. "No, I don't think you're
anywhere near full." Pushing her face into the moldering, piss filled toilet,
he reaches around with one hand, begins twisting her tiny nipples, savoring the
sound of her hoarse whining. He guzzles his beer, dry humping her pretty ass as
her face is pushed down into the foul toilet, her face splashing with each
obscene thrust along her crack. He sucks down the last, laughing as he sets the
bottle on her back. "Hmmm, a table. A fuck toy. I do love multi-functional
furniture." He grins, looks down. "Oh, look, my cock his hard again-oh, I'm
sorry-my THING."
Laughing breathlessly, he presses his tool against her tiny asshole, sweeping
the empty bottle to the floor. She squeals, grunts as he shoves harder, her
small hips jerking, twitching against him. "You sound like a pig," he gasps,
"piggies belong in the slop." He grasps her hair, shoves her face deep into the
dirty toilet, thrusting hard as she begins to twist, buck, the small, the dark
room filled with the sounds of her gagging, sputtering. With a hoarse shout, he
begins to ride her tight ass hard, slamming her forward against the stained
porcelain, feeling the jarring thud as her narrow hips crash into the hard
surface again and again. He feels his balls tighten, pulls back, withdraws from
her torn ass, pulls her back to laugh at her soaked, smelly face, the way the
pissy water turns her hair to tired ringlets. Twisting her around, he forces
her head back so her hair is trailing in the toilet, then sits down heavily, his
meaty thighs straddling her slender shoulders. He shoves his now rigid, bloody
cock into her mouth, begins fucking down, thrusting deeply as he feels her
writhing helplessly under him. He comes in less than a minute, sending another
thick, sour load down her throat. He sighs as she gags, sputters, knows that
she can't help but swallow. He holds, makes sure she takes every drop before
rising ponderously, dragging her to her knees before him. He considers her
gasping, moaning face, then gives her a broad grin. "I swear, that beer just
goes right through me." He opens her mouth easily, pushes to the back of her
upturned face, then lets loose another long, hot stream of urine. She sputters,
swallows stupidly, her eyes dull, glassy, jerking weakly from side to side as he
uses her once again as his personal urinal. "Multi-functional," he laughs,
shaking his dick off over her lips, getting the last drops out. He grins,
thrusts her to the floor, lays down on top of her, smiling as she whines,
squirms under him, his hips jerking, cock already half stiff again.
"Well, get up, stupid." He kicks at her, laughs as she flinches, shrinks away.
"Ohhh, what's the matter, aren't we friends anymore?" He grabs her by the hair,
pulls her up from her fetal position on the cold tile floor. "Get dressed, you
dumb pig, I'm taking you home."
Kierra's eyes drag jerkily to his face, her hands clenched over her hot, tight
belly. All day and night he's used her face, to fuck it, to piss down her
throat. Fucked her raw, stretched pussy with an empty beer bottle as he fucked
her mouth, then filled her belly with cum, piss. Fucked her more times than she
can count, always pulling out to force his spewing dick down her throat. Over
and over, even forcing her to squat over the empty container, then lower
herself, impaling her own ass with the thick brown bottle. She moans, her jaw
too sore, her lips and tongue too swollen to speak. She shakes her head, whines
as he jerks her, swaying, to her feet.
"What, you don't want to go home? You don't want to tell your mommy how that
bottle got up your bottom?" He coughs, pulls her behind him, laughing at the
way her little hips strain, her legs stutter along, making allowance for the
bottle still in her bowels. He looks approvingly at her belly, so full, tight,
poking out painfully before her. "Well, I'll tell you what, cow-since your
parents aren't ever going to love you again, I guess I could let you come with
me so you don't have to show them that bottle stuck up your butt." He almost
bursts out laughing at her pathetic whimper, her sickly grateful expression.
"Now get over here, I have to pee." He nods, smiles as she drops to her bruised
knees, opens her aching jaw to accept his cock. He pulls his massive belly to
the side, watches her puffy, swollen lips wrap around him. He moans, tilting
his beefy hips forward, pushing on the back of her head before releasing his
full bladder, sending his hot, sour piss down her swollen throat. "Don't you
puke, stupid," he admonishes, cuffing her sharply on the temple. "Mmmm, that's
right, piggy whore, drink it all, be a good toilet."
Climbing into the car with a grunt, he watches her slow, agonized progress
across the empty parking lot. Small, mincing, hobbled steps, her pretty ass
pushed back at a peculiar angle, her legs turned in slightly, accommodating the
bottle. He'll have to get that thing out of her eventually, he knows-if she
lives long enough to make it worth the hassle. He wonders if she's old enough
to get pregnant, smiles. That might be worth digging the bottle out of her
asshole. She climbs in gingerly, scooting her hips to one side, trying to ease
her pain. He snaps his fingers, smacks her, points to the seat, indicating she
should lay belly down on the seat, her face in his lap. He grunts, shifts,
pulls his belt out, loops it around her neck in a leash. He pulls up sharply,
nods at her pathetic whine. Knotting the belt to the steering column, he smacks
her again, pushes her face down to his cock. She looks up, her eyes dull, still
stunned. He moans at her puffy, swollen lips, so pretty, red and purple, sighs
as they envelope his cock. He closes his eyes, pictures her bent back over the
toilet, her mouth open, eyes tear-filled.
He can hardly wait until he has to shit.
Whistling a jaunty tune, he pulls out onto the quiet highway, one hand on the
wheel, the other tangled in her dirty hair, jerking her head up and down as they
cruise toward the morning sun. "Even the stupidest animal can be trained," he
murmurs, as much to himself as her, "even a stupid little piggy like you." He
smiles, totally content, knows it doesn't matter if she lives or dies. Either
way, his life is good. Excellent.
