pierce@dtm-corp.com writes: THE WILLING SLAVE F: (unless you and Tom or someone else are doing that story) F: Sue awoke, rolled over and cursed when she realized her arm had fallen F: alseep. She cursed again when she realized the reason it had fallen F: alseep was not because she had been sleeping on it but because someone F: else was sleeping on it. F: F: She hoped that she could manage to roll him off her arm without waking him, F: though that seemed like it would be quite a task, for he had considerable F: girth. The plan was to free her arm and then sneak out quicky and quietly. F: F: As soon as she remembered where she was and how she got there. F: F: In the ten minutes it took to free her arm the only way she managed to F: stop from screaming, as the feeling started to come back into her arm as F: the senstation of hundreds of pins and needles, was to concentrate F: on exactly what HAD happened. F: F: It had all began innocently enough. P: Sue (a.k.a. "the stupid one" to all her first cousins) began teenage P: life as a normal kid in rural Arkansas, playing "hide the goat parts" P: with all her kin at the rather confusing family reunions that came up P: at each harvest moon. P: P: One summer the reunion was disrupted by the appearance of Uncle Spam. P: Uncle Spam had made his fortune in the hog parts industry, selling P: spare porcine pieces to a large company that packed them into dark P: blue cans and sold them to truckers all across the country. Spammy P: took up a hobby of spending his fortune pursuing all his sexual P: desires. His proclivities were legendary far and wide amongst the P: kin-folk. Uncle Spam sat down on a stump and began regaling everyone P: with the stories of his recent conquests. Most of the time he had a P: scar to show the crowd, thus proving that his stories were true. P: F: Spam lifted his dirty, white underwear shirt to reveal several sets of F: parallal scratches...across his chest. "Now, y'all ever hear of a little F: old gathering called a Mongolian Cluster Fuck?" Spam began. A few of his F: kin cautiously raised their hands, as their eyes darted back and forth, for F: it's considered bad form to be too knowledgable of Spam's exploits, even F: though two-thirds of them had had first-hand experience with them, and F: almost half had been involved in his infamous Peanut-Butter-and-Thumbtack- F: Night, even if they were just working the bellows. "Well, of course F: you've heard of it, I told you about my Belgian friend and his family. F: Well, anyway, in the midst of one, one of his friends, no, I think it F: was his grandma, well, she was telling me, well, when she could talk, F: about something so extreme, something so beyond human imagination that F: I nearly shit on her face. I mean at that moment. Of course I did later F: on, but only when I was good and ready." F: F: Spam told them of a sort of Tournament, held once every 10 years. A F: variety of events, all aimed to test the prowess, abilities, stamina, F: and sensibilities of the contestants. "Now me, I can't go, as it'd be a F: bit too much for me," he admitted, though quickly added, "and I wouldn't F: want to embarass everyone else there by walking off with the first prize F: so easily," so as not to discourage the younger listeners. "However, F: I need someone to represent me, to represent the family, the clan, the kin. F: It'll be hard work, it'll be sloppy, but shoot tell me anything besides F: childbirth that isn't." At that point, Sue understood. P: Sue had helped birth the last bunch of goats early last spring, and P: she knew how that got a little messy. What with all the boy cousins P: hanging around, picking their favorites and carting them off to the P: indoctrination barn. Sue didn't know what indoctrination meant, but P: she knew it always involved a series of squealing farm animals and at P: least one boy cousin, all surrounded by a group of cousins and P: grownups, hollering and taking bets. When a boy cousin returned with P: his goat, now squealing and whimpering, it was Sue's job to clean them P: up. Sue was a little peeved when she was given this job, because the P: newborn goats always came back a LOT messier than when they left. Sue P: just quietly grabbed her wire brush and blowtorch and started cleaning P: up. The baby goats always calmed down at this point. P: P: Goat births were messy, but the horses births were messier. Sue had P: to wait until she was 14 before she could help with birthing the P: chickens. But I digress. Sue woke up from her daydreams to find her P: arm was in the air, and Uncle Spam was looking at her with the P: strangest, most malicious smile Sue had ever seen. Well that isn't P: exactly true. Sue had seen a more malicious smile when mean Aunt P: Spleen had caught Sue and Luellen Biggs tying up dogs and roosters out P: back of the pumphouse, preparing to scare the living shit out of a P: group of drunk frat boys. Aunt Spleen scolded them for trying to do P: men's work, and proceeded to show the two girls what women's work was P: all about. The only way I can describe these chores is to instruct P: the listener to stop reading and go watch the X-rated version of P: Caligula. Take the indoor scenes where the Romans only slightly P: outnumbered the animals, and try to imagine if these scenes were P: directed by Brian DePalma and Paul Verhoeven, and imagine how the P: scenes would transpire if these 2 directors were TRYING to sicken and P: insult you. It was much worse than that, and yet still the scars P: healed up nicely. Country medicine is indeed a miraculous art. P: P: Shit. I'm digressing again. Sue's hand was still in the air, and it P: was the only hand that dared go up. All the other kin's jaws slacked P: open even further than they normally did, and Uncle Spam knew history P: was about to be made. Of course Sue was a bit young, and her pubes P: had just started to sprout, but Uncle Spam figgered she could still P: probably be married off when it was all over and done with. Now it P: was time to prepare Sue for the contest. F: Things started out well enough. It was a warm day, with a slight breeze F: and Sue was lying comfortably on her bed, feeling quite relaxed and F: peaceful. Until she noticed that she wasn't on her bed, she was lying F: in the middle of the road, covered in dirt and mud. It wasn't a peaceful F: day, it was nearly 100 degrees and almost as humid. And she wasn't F: relaxed nor peaceful, her head was throbbing, she was bleeding from her F: elbows and knees, and wasn't sure if she could stand up. The cool breeze F: somehow changed into the foul stench of Spam's hot breath, mixed with her F: own coughing. When she could make out his words, she heard him say, F: "Now passing out is just a natural reaction. Bound to happen the first F: couple of times. However, after that, it won't be as easy. By this F: afternoon, we'll take off the training wheels, so to speak," and pointed F: to the midget that was lying right next to Sue. As bad a shape as she F: was in, he was in far worse shape. Necks don't normally bend that way, F: and while she's heard people say "go stick your head up your ass" she F: never knew someone who actually could. The oddest thing was the fact F: that despite his condition, the midget had the most twisted, cheshire-cat F: grin on his face, and she couldn't for the life of her remember why. F: Eventually she did, which was why she passed out the second time. F: F: The first day saw Sue work her way through dwarfs, midgets, amputees, and F: juggling seals. Sue made the mistake of asking Spam how he came by F: having so many circus friends. He just pointed to a spiral, corkscrew F: scar on his forarm and a similar one on the opposite hip, winked, and F: said, "We'll get to that later in the week. I think you should rest up F: a bit, because tomorrow we're going to have a little change of pace F: and go for something a little more Eastern" and pulled a crystal sphere F: out of his cabinet that looked like a cross between a kick-ball, a F: ben-wah ball, and the ball from Phantasm. "Remember, my dear, there can F: be only one winner. And to win, you must sever your opponents head." "You F: mean kill them?" she asked. "Well, no, though they may wish they were F: dead," he said, again with a wink. Before retiring for the night to his F: bedroom, the barn, he said to her, "there's not much time left, so we'll F: have to work twice as hard and take twice as many hormone injections, so F: you'll need your rest. As for me, if any scoutmasters stop by, tell them F: I'm indisposed for the night. If any scouts stop by, send them in." And F: with that he took his leave. The weeks were filled with hard work, but F: she persevered. P: On the day before the tournament, Sue had to pass her final exam. P: This was problematic, since she had only just eaten the exam 3 hours P: earlier. It was a little disconcerting at first, but eventually the P: snake stopped squirming. Those warmup exercises with the hay baling P: equipment really paid off. Sue would no longer doubt Spammy's word. P: With the help of some milk of magnesia, Sue finally passed her final P: exam. Spammy and some of the other, more wizened uncles examined it P: carefully. After some debate about how long the snake had survived, P: coupled with the unusual number of fish hooks still in it, uncle Spam P: finally declared that Sue had passed. All the kinfolk celebrated by P: throwing a huge barbecue. Sue wasn't sure what they had cooked for P: her, but it didn't matter because someone else had to feed her. P: Cousin Billy was elated when he drew the short straw, and was P: therefore the one who got to undo Sue's bindings so someone could feed P: her. Once Sue started eating, she encountered a class ring in her P: food. Then Sue faintly remembered that she, Aunt Spleen and Luellen P: Biggs had never untied those frat boys. Of course, that was months P: ago so they couldn't have ... then Sue remembered that no one had been P: allowed in Uncle Parvo's root cellar shortly after that. Simple put, P: Sue was overcome. Her family and friends had really gone too far this P: time. Sue was so happy to see this warm display of affection from all P: her kinfolk! P: P: So off to the Tournament went Sue! F: The Tournament. That's is the only way anyone refers to it, when they F: do. It is spoken of in hushed tones, in the wee hours of the night in F: the darkest corners of the dirtiest brothels in Bombay, Los Angeles, F: Hanoi, Taiwan, Cairo, Constantinople, and its ilk. Those hearing it F: mentioned tend to listen intently, nervously. Yet as wide spread as F: legends of the Tournament are, precious little is known about it. Few F: have any idea of what is involved, let alone how or where it is held F: or how to actually compete. Fortunately, few of Uncle Spam's stories F: were fiction (though occasionally he would indulge, just to keep F: things lively) and he was intimately familiar with all of the tales. F: F: They couldn't afford to wait for Sue to scab over, and instead had to F: begin their journey immediately. While Sue wasn't the brightest of F: her litter, she knew they were doing quite a bit of traveling. Most F: of the rides they got were free, since she would need to maintain her F: training anyway; thus being occupied most of the route escaped her and F: she was quite unaware of their exact destination. As a matter of F: fact, the only respite she got was the few days they spent aboard the F: Greek trawler. During their sea voyage, Spam told her what would be F: her biggest challenge. His name was Gorloff, called Drooler by his F: friends, though not for any salivary secretions. He was one of the F: Old Guard as well, and would have his own Champion to compete, like F: Sue. It had been over 10 years since he last encountered the Drooler, F: and more than mere harsh words had been exchanged. He would be F: looking not only to beat Sue, but to humiliate Spam. However, as they F: reached the last milestone, which resembled a 1.5 foot tall rough- F: hewn wooden phallus and signaled they were within five miles of the F: rusted iron gates that surround the Tournament Lands (for that was all F: they were known as), Spam gave her a final bit of advice. His words F: were usually not cryptic, far from it. Yet this time they were. P: "Dried oranges are always softest in the middle at midnight". Sue had P: no idea what this meant, of course. The sad part is Sue had even less P: of a clue about the statement as you do right now as you are reading P: this. Sadly, Uncle Spam saw the glazed look in her eyes and knew it P: was going to be dicey at the end. He only hoped that Sue would at P: least remember the phrase when it became critical. P: P: Sue went straight toward the arena known as the Tournament Lands, and P: gave the warty little midget at the gate a blowjob -- following P: Spammy's precise instructions. When she finished, the midget knew Sue P: was a contestant and let her enter the gates. As a courtesy, Sue gave P: the tip back to the midget as she passed through the gate. P: P: After signing in, Sue had her contestant number branded on, and she P: got straight to work. She won the first two rounds handily. The P: first was a simple sheep-and-chainsaw variation that she had seen even P: before Spammy took her under his wing. The second involved some P: intricate pube-braiding techniques, but Sue was more than ready for P: it. The third round was only tricky because she was getting tired P: from the trip and all. She simply wasn't thinking clearly. P: Eventually she got herself unbound from the donkey, and managed to P: finish off the Catholic bishop in grand style. She later found out P: that he wasn't dressed up, but was a real bishop on sabattical. Had P: she known that she would have been able to earn extra points due to P: the extracurricular teachings of one Reverend Billy James Justice of P: Hope, Arkansas. Unfortunately she missed the extra points. Sue knew P: she would persevere. Sue earned the respect of her fellow contestants P: in round 4. The nipple clamps had fallen off the previous contestant, P: and several turtles had gotten hurt. The judges were going to wave P: the electricity requirement for that round just because of the nipple P: clamps. Sue fixed the problem with the creative but painful use of a P: needle and thread. After that round, she heard the murmurs in the P: crowd. This must be Spammy's doing, they were saying. Silly Sue P: thought her accent had given her away. Then she realized that that P: couldn't be the explanation, since she couldn't speak during the P: round, what with the Scatological intervention of the billy goat. Sue P: then realized that her upbringing had been recognized simply on her P: technique. Sue thought it was nice to be recognized for her talents P: for a change. After she had cleaned all the bits of scorched orange P: Jello off her feet, Sue went to the snack bar to get a bite to eat. F: At the snack bar, Sue found that she had worked up quite an appetite. Yet F: she had some trouble swallowing the goat nads, deep fried in rancid F: rendered racoon grease. After all, it had been weeks that she had been F: on the road, and this was an all too poignant reminder of all the things F: she missed at home. Yet, as it often had during the tournament, her F: hearty appetite outweighed her trepidation. While she was consuming F: her snack, she heard a voice behind her say, "Girlie, that was an impressive F: bit of work back there. Quick thinking using the snapping turtles on F: the goat. And I see you're enjoying the fruits of your labor." The F: voice belonged to an older, common looking, rotund man. "Tell you what," F: he rasped, "you manage to finish the day with as impressive a performance F: as you've done so far, and maybe you and I should...talk." Before Sue F: could ask him anything, he added, "Oh, don't worry, I'll find you. Easier F: that way." And with a blubbering laugh, he receded, almost flowed, F: backwards into the crowd, and was gone. The only way she could be sure F: that he had been there at all was the puddle where he had been standing. F: Sue had checked, to make sure it wasn't from the rancid lard, for she F: paid good money for that, but it was far more pungent, and did not F: complement the goat nads at all. F: F: The rest of the afternoon was spent in the more mundane, compulsory F: events. Singles, doubles, and triples. Sprints and marathons. Anal F: cavity stuffing (bottles, electric candle sticks, gerbils, hedgehogs, F: Alan Hale, Jr.). The usual events. Sadly, one contestant, known only F: as Slowhand, whom she had become friends with, failed to qualify in F: the Speed Spooge Sprint event. Another was disqualified when halfway F: through the rimming event he began uncontrollably, madly, F: liqui-farting, non-stop for the rest of the event. If only the F: lentils, yogurt (at least it looked like yogurt), ex-lax meal he had F: for lunch had kicked in just a bit earlier. But the rules F: specifically state that the rim-ie must liqui-fart for no less than F: 60% of the time, and the judges are quite strict. Sue was amazed he F: could get that far in the contest while having so little sphincter F: control as well as needing to eat something to affect his digestive F: tract. Poor training indeed. It was obvious that the audience wasn't F: as excited about the compulsory events either; they were waiting for F: the more intersting ones that followed the next day. Sue completed F: the events with no problems. That night, true to his word, the obese F: strange paid a visit to Sue. P: He did it rather sneakily it seems. Sue was fast asleep in her rented P: bed when she had the strangest dream. She actually had a dream where P: the people had their clothes ON. And their clothes weren't tied on, P: with bread wrapper ties, either. Then as the dream got clearer it got P: more normal, since the clothed figures were now sheep in a field P: rather than people. One of the sheep was fatter than the rest, and he P: suddenly removed his "sheep's clothing" to reveal that he had a P: humongous cock. He slithered over to Sue, tied to a tree with barbed P: wire, and began doing things to her that the english language can only P: attempt to describe. The only recognizeable things in an english P: translation of these ritual sexual acts are: P: 1: exploding, skyrocketing dildo P: 2: butterscotch cream glazed pork frosting P: 3: vaginal blood farts on cue P: 4: ivory-handled jumper cables P: 5: OJ Simpson P: P: the rest is COMPLETE gibberish. Sue can only report that she hadn't P: thought up about half of the activities before the dream. The sheep, P: erection still throbbing mightily, sauntered away in Sue's dream while P: the rest of the sheep looked stupidly back at the grass they had been P: eating and, in unison, exchunkulated. P: P: When Sue awoke, there was a sheep skin on the floor next to her bed. P: It was a freshly-skinned one too, so it instantly reminded her of the P: dream she had. She liked most of the new ideas she had dreamed of, so P: felt fully prepared for this, the next-to-last day of the tournament. P: P: Sue got undressed and went outside to check the tote board and find P: where her next event was to take place. F: F: Well, events progressed as expected more or less, and we can skip over F: the more tame events, to the final round. As you might guess, Sue had F: made it to the final round. Her opponent went only by the name, The F: Hose. Word on the street was that he was the Drooler's student. The F: final event was a one-on-one, free form, no-holds-barred simple F: endurance match. The Hose stepped into the center of the arena. It F: was obvious that Spam and Drooler had been rivals, for their champions F: were almost completely opposite. Whereas life on the farm had left F: Sue as a thin, ectomorph, dressed in loose, old, drab clothes, The F: Hose was extremely endomorphic, as round and fat as his mentor. His F: garishly bright orange uniform was stretched tightly over him and made F: him look like some kind of perverse kick-ball. Yet Sue knew she could F: not underestimate her competitor. First, he slowly let his legs slip F: in opposite directions until he did a French Split that even Jean F: Claude Van Damme would respect, however because of his girth, he F: looked like some bizzare sort of orangle old style alarm clock. He F: then extended his short, fat, stubby little arms, arched his back and F: stretched backwards. He was incredibly flexible and was easily able F: to touch the palms of his hands to the ground. It seemed as if, by F: managing to bend his spine in that manner another few inches, he would F: be able to wedge his head into his ass and give himself a blowjob. F: F: The joke, "Why do dogs lick their balls?" (becuase they can) went F: through Sue's head. She stopped smirking when he actually MANAGED F: that feat, with the aid of an 8 inch, seemingly prehensile tongue. F: This was going to be a challenge, although he did not seem to be F: anatomically worthy of his chosen name. By this time, even Sue had F: realized that the previous night's visitor had been the Drooler with F: the intent to see what sort of challenge his star pupil would be up F: against. She was at a distinct disadvantage. The event began, and F: almost at the same instant The Hose fired a volley at Sue. F: Fortunately, she had been on her guard and managed to avoid a large F: percent of his ejecta, which took out the first few rows of F: spectators. Sue realized that his name came not from the length of F: his weapon, but rather the considerable volume and muzzle velocity it F: produced and thought, "Man, these events must really dehydrate him." F: F: They grappled, wrestled, and generally became quite intimately F: familiar with each other for the better part of 4 hours. At each F: turn, he had been able to counter all of Sue's best moves, even her 5 F: orifice, double fisted, spinning tense. She spit out his shoelaces F: and jean rivets, for they had no use to her, and swallowed the rest in F: four gulps. She was getting sloppy and tired. She knew with the F: amount of fluid he was expending that he should be suffering from F: dehydration, but she could not rely on that, as he had not been F: showing any signs of slowing down. Then she got careless (or did she? F: she didn't remember that puddle being there before). She hit one of F: the many wet spots on the floor and lost her footing. She could hear F: him bellowing while she was still in the air. Instinctively, her arms F: shot out to break her fall, leaving an opening in her defense. She F: thought, "Over 20 feet away, damn his aim is good," as she felt F: something warm and sticky hit her cheek. He was like a machine gun. F: For that was followed by a 20 second long volley. It was too late to F: protect her eyes. It was only the intense hours of training with F: Uncle Spam that prepared her for such a situation, exhaling during the F: entire exchange so as not to have her mouth and nose sealed up. F: F: The day became black as pitch. She wasted too much valuable time F: trying to clear her eyes, and The Hose went in for the final move. He F: approached her slowly, summoning up the sum total of his power. F: Before the initial mount, Sue heard an odd sound, and realized that he F: must be drinking a bottle of gatorade to recharge for his final move. F: Lying there helpless, Uncle Spam's final words of instruction echoed F: through her head and finally made sense. F: F: The Hose went in for the kill. A hushed silence fell upon the F: normally rowdy audience. The Drooler had bragged quite a bit about F: the "Mystic 20 Gallon Orgasm" he had taught his student (in fact, he F: had said that The Hose was the only one that had survived learning the F: technique), but no one had actually seen such a thing. There was an F: electricity in the air. F: F: The Hose moved in. And after the initial moves, with eyes rolled so F: far back in his head that he should be able to see the back of his F: head, a low rumbling started to build up to deafening proportions and F: it happened. P: "Dried oranges are always softest in the middle at midnight". Indeed, P: thought Sue. The Hose had needed replenishing, but he failed to wait P: long enough for the fluid to enter his blood-and-sperm stream. All P: she had to do was CONVINCE the Hose to attempt the 20-gallon orgasm P: and the crown was hers -- she was certain of that. She posed on her P: knees and elbows as lasciviously as she could and begged for him to P: mount her. She asked for it in the snatch, she asked for it in the P: ass. Her reverse psychology worked, for he plunged his member P: straight into her waiting mouth. As the Hose prepared to give Sue an P: un-swallowable load -- he knew no one on earth could swallow that much P: pecker snot -- he thought of the victory that was surely his. The P: clock bonged midnight, and The Hose felt the pressure build up inside P: as he prepared to unload on the poor little pitiful waif at his feet. P: The instant the gushing orgasm started, Sue timed her move perfectly P: and stuck her tongue right in the end of The Hose's member. P: Effectively sealed off by Sue's well-trained tongue, the Hose's pecker P: swelled up like a shaved possum bloating in the Arkansas summer sun. P: The Hose realized his fatal mistake. Well, at least he hoped it would P: be fatal because he couldn't bear to think about the dire consequences P: of living through an internal 20-gallon retrograde sperm explosion. P: Fortunately, The Hose's throbbing member burst open and all of The P: Hose's pent-up spoo reserve gushed out harmlessly. Sue was drenched, P: but still functional. The Hose, with his palpitating member laid open P: like a fresh catfish at a July 4th picnic, would not be functioning in P: any sexual capacity until he went to the clinic and had a few hundred P: stitches put in. Ah well, it wouldn't be the first time, thought The P: Hose. At least the sticky spunk stopped the bleeding. The pain would P: set in later. The Hose had been defeated, and for the first time P: ever, Uncle Spammy had trained a winner of The Tournament! It was P: time for the crowning ceremonies and End of The Tournament Banquet. F: Sue was escorted into the Great Hall by a cadre of soldies with bayonets F: attached to the end of their rifles. It wasn't until the third glance that F: she realized that they weren't carrying rifles. No matter. She was led F: to the raised platform of the Great Hall, in instructed to stand next to F: the podium, which resembled a four foot phallus and was joined by Uncle Spam. F: F: It was a short cermony, marked by a few speeches (Spam spoke on Sue's behalf, F: since he was more elequent and her tongue was still numb and swollen), F: ceremonial clothing (which can be best compared to the evil, alien, psycho- F: leather, razor-blade fuck-suit from the movie "Seven") and cheers of approval F: from the crowds. This was followed by a great feast. And after a long F: night of being congratulated by various members of the audience and their F: members, they retired for the night. F: F: Sue blinked a few times, staring out into the darkened room, having F: remembered exactly how she came to be there. The Tournament must have F: been more exhausting than she realized. But with it now behind her, she F: had to decide on her future. Back to the farm. Stay with Uncle Spam. F: Stay at the Lands of the Tournament. Or perhaps something else. F: F: STAY TUNED FOR THE NEXT EXCITING CHAPTER: F: F: Chapter 3: A Shallow Bed