Alison Dawkins stared out of the car window at the passing beech hedge, trying to make out the identity of the birds on the lake beyond. It was hard to tell at this distance, particularly since she could only see them for a fraction of a second at a time. She had just about decided that they were mallards when a sharp instruction from her brother Michael jolted her from her reverie.

“Quick,” he said, “grab the forty miles per hour sign.”

She bent down and felt around under her seat for the A3-sized placards that he had made up. She pulled them out and flipped through them, looking for the one he wanted.

“Good grief, would you look at this idiot?” growled Michael. “Doesn’t he know what a de-restricted sign means, for heaven’s sake?” He changed down into third gear and cruised up to a few yards behind the bumper of the car in front, edging out towards the middle of the road in the hope that a break in the oncoming traffic would coincide with a long straight stretch. To his delight, after the next corner the road was clear for a couple of hundred yards.

“Okay, here we go,” he said. “Hold up the sign!”

As the car swung out to overtake, Alison pressed her sign against the window, while her brother hooted to get the attention of the other car’s driver. Peeping around the edge of the placard, she saw the elderly gentleman in question start in surprise as he read the message: “THIS IS NOT A 40 LIMIT, YOU IDIOT!”

Leaving the old man spluttering indignantly in his wake, Michael grinned as he quickly roared up to fifty miles per hour then changed up into fourth, still accelerating. “Finally!” he exclaimed. “Thanks Ali.”

Alison replaced the signs under her seat and returned to staring out of the window. Her brother glanced across at her. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, fine,” she replied a little dolefully. A moment later, she added, “I was kind of hoping we could have another look at your spell book this weekend.”

“Now, Ali, you know my feelings on that,” her brother reproached her gently. “I didn’t intend for you to see that at all, and what I told you was meant to put you off, not encourage you.”

“But it’s magic, Mike. How could I not be incredibly curious about it?”

Michael sighed. “I know, I know. But trust me – I’ve had some very major problems with spells I’ve cast in the past. Some of those that I cast on other people had horrible consequences.”

“But didn’t you say that the nasty consequences could be avoided if you were careful?”

“Sometimes. Usually,” he admitted. “But there was always the potential for accidents, and I experienced a few too many of those, which is why I gave it up. I haven’t practised magic in almost three months now – since just before you came to stay.”

“But haven’t you been tempted?” inquired Alison.

“Occasionally, perhaps. But not enough to want to risk it.”

Alison pouted. It was just too awful to discover that actual magic really did exist, only to be told she was never to experience it. She tried again. “But think of all the good you could do!” she pressed him.

He shook his head. “I once felt the same way,” he said. “But painful experience made me a sadder and a wiser man.”

Alison looked at him querulously, trying to place the reference. Then she smiled and said, “Well, Mister Ancient Mariner, perhaps you just lost confidence in your abilities. But you know what they say: if at first you don’t succeed?”

“?Give up,” her brother finished. “And it wasn’t the mariner, it was the wedding guest. But it’s not a case of trying again if you fail – the consequences of failure are sometimes impossible to rectify. Invariably you end up making things worse.”

Alison turned back to the window. “Whatever,” she said in disappointment. “Why do you keep the book, then?”

Michael shrugged uncomfortably. “Well I wouldn’t want it falling into the wrong hands,” he said.

“So why not destroy it?”

“Oh I couldn’t do that – it’s far too old, valuable and unique. It would be like ? I don’t know ? dismantling Stonehenge or something.”

“What are you going to do with it, then?”

“Just keep it, I suppose. Pass it on to my kids eventually, assuming I have any. Or to you, if I don’t – if you promise not to try using it.”

Alison said nothing. She knew perfectly well that she would not promise any such thing. If she ever got hold of that book, nothing would prevent her from experimenting with it. She changed the subject. “So you’ll be back next Saturday, then?” she asked.

“Yes, sometime in the afternoon,” he confirmed. “It’s a long drive down from Newcastle – I’ll probably leave early in the morning and stop for lunch somewhere on the way. You going to be studying hard while I’m gone?”

Alison shrugged. “Sure,” she said. “Mr Allen’s set some pretty tough assignments.” Then she frowned in annoyance. “You know, that arsehole actually said to me it was weird that I was living with my brother!”

Michael pursed his lips. “Well what did he think you should do after Mum ? you know??”

“I know! I said that to him. He said I should be living with my grandparents or something.”

“What an idiot. As if you’d move out of the city away from all your friends? What a prat.”

“Yeah. Anyway he lightened up a bit when I told him how old you were. But even so.”

She lapsed into silence and neither of them said much for the rest of the journey home. Michael backed into the driveway and Alison got out. She walked around to the driver’s side, where Michael was winding down his window.

“You got everything you need?” he asked her. “House keys?”

Alison patted her pocket. It clinked. “And sixty pounds in cash,” she said. “I’ll be fine.”

“Well there’s plenty of food in both the fridge and the freezer,” said Michael. “My mobile phone’s playing up at the moment, so you won’t be able to call me, but I’ll call you every evening to make sure you’re doing okay.”

“That’s not necessary,” Alison assured him. “I’ll be fine. Now go on, and don’t worry about me.”

“It’s my job to worry about you,” he responded. “I’ll call you tonight at least, just in case you think of anything you need to tell me or ask me.”

“Okay. Bye then.”

“Cheerio.”

She waved to him as he drove out of the driveway and headed off down the road. Then she turned, pulled out her keys, and entered the house. Hesitating only for a moment, she ran upstairs and pulled down the loft ladder. She knew where Michael kept his spell book, and she was determined to have another look at it, at the very least.

Ten minutes later she was sitting in front of Michael’s computer with the book, reading through both the spells and their translations that Michael had painstakingly typed up in several Word documents. It made fascinating reading, but she soon found that Michael’s work was unfinished – some of the spells were only partially translated, and some had not been translated at all.

One particular spell caught her eye. It was a cure for constipation. Michael had only translated the first couple of lines, but it was obvious what the spell was designed to do. Although she would never have admitted it to Michael, Alison often suffered from this complaint, and she always hated asking for appropriate medicine over the counter at the chemist. It was too embarrassing for words.

She stared thoughtfully at the spell, saying the strange Old English words to herself in her head. It did not seem very hard, and it was surely a harmless enough spell to begin with. Michael had written “Spell 331: Relief of Constipation. Provides immediate relief, softening stools and causing their rapid, easy expulsion from the bowels.” There was plenty more writing in Old English, but Michael had not seen fit to translate it. Perhaps that was because it was not important enough to warrant translation.

Further reading unearthed some other spells she was keen to try, but the constipation one sounded the simplest and most straightforward. She took the book downstairs and turned the kettle on to boil some water. Michael’s notes at the front of the book explained how spells were to be cast, and she knew that she needed a weak sugar solution in order to cast the spell. She drew a circle on the floor with a felt-tip pen, and waited impatiently for the water to boil. Eventually it did so, and she poured it into a cup and stirred a spoonful of sugar into it. When it had dissolved, she poured it on to the floor in the middle of the circle, and spread the liquid around until it completely covered the circular area. Then she stepped into the circle, and cast the spell?

That evening, while she was watching television, the urge came upon her to go to the loo. Remembering the spell, she excitedly ran up to the bathroom, took off her skirt and panties, and sat down on the toilet. No sooner had she done so than her anus opened up and a long, soft poo slid out of her rectum and splashed into the water. After a series of difficult and painful evacuations over the past month or so, this was a blessed relief. Beaming with pleasure and pride in her successful casting of the spell, Alison wiped herself, flushed, and washed her hands. Returning to Michael’s computer, she continued reading the translations, wondering what other spells she could cast.

Spell 102 caught her eye. According to her brother’s notes, it gave non-living objects limited power of movement, so that they would act in a desired fashion. If the spell was cast on a bowling ball (as Michael’s example described) it would always make a strike, no matter how badly it was thrown. If cast on a pendulum clock, it would never run down or lose time. Apparently the spell had trouble with electrical appliances, but otherwise it was quite powerful, and Alison decided to try it right away.

She returned to the kitchen and made up some more sugar solution. Spreading it around inside the circle, she stepped on to the wet patch of linoleum and recited the spell, concentrating on her wristwatch as she did so. The watch was a gift from her late mother, a beautiful old analogue watch with a tiny knob on the side for winding it up. Alison, used to battery-operated watches from an early age, frequently forgot to wind it up and often had to spend long frustrating minutes winding the hands around to their correct positions once the mechanism had wound down. Perhaps, she thought to herself, this spell would enable the watch to take care of its own maintenance.

It was, of course, impossible to tell whether the spell had worked or not, and would be for some time. But she had high hopes as she ascended the stairs once again to continue reading the spell book. Over the course of the next couple of hours, she found several spells that intrigued her, and she tried one or two of them out. There was one that caused objects (again non-living) to replicate themselves, and she cast this one on the money in her wallet. This, she felt, might well prove extremely useful. She might never have to work for a living!

Another spell set her heart racing as she read it. It was a spell to cause a sentient being to become sexually attracted to you. Excitedly she ran to her room and rummaged through her bag. She soon found what she was looking for: a photo of Vince Lambert, one of the senior boys at her school. She had worshiped him from afar for years, but he had always ignored her. Now, however, things would be different. She took the spell book and the photo downstairs, stood in the middle of the still-wet circle, and read out the spell, concentrating on the photo in front of her.

Satisfied with her work, she put the spell book in the study next to the computer and went back to watching television. The phone rang a few minutes later, and she got up to answer the phone in the hall. It was her brother.

“Hi,” she said. “Oh good? Yes, I’ve had something to eat. Stop worrying! How was your journey? ? Oh, really? Bummer! ? Well, at least you’ve got there safely? No, everything’s fine here. I have everything I need? Yes I’m sure! Just? No, you don’t need to call me every night? Well that’s all right – if I do need anything, or if there’s some emergency, I can call Aunt Beth? Uh-huh? Actually I was just in the middle of watching Red Dwarf, but it’s okay? All right. Talk to you soon then. Bye.”

She hung up and returned to the settee in the living room. At about ten o’clock she felt like she needed to go to the toilet again, so she climbed the stairs and entered the bathroom. Sitting down, she strained and was somewhat surprised when a soft poo, even longer than the earlier one, slid easily out of her anus and dropped into the water below. She got up and glanced down into the bowl, then gasped as she saw it twitch, apparently of its own accord. Eyes wide, she stared at it for a full minute, wondering if it would move again. And then, suddenly, it did. It began to bend in the middle, taking on the rough shape of a banana, and then it flexed itself again.

Alison did not wait for it to move again. She leaped forward and flushed the toilet, sending her poo around the U-bend with all possible speed. She shuddered as she wiped herself. What had that been all about? Was it magic? Had one of her spells somehow affected her poo? It did not seem feasible.

Putting the matter out of her mind, she brushed her teeth and got ready for bed. Putting on a t-shirt and a fresh pair of panties, she climbed between the sheets, then she switched off her light and thought about Vince and how he might behave the next time he saw her. Before long she fell asleep.

Shortly after eleven she woke up with a start. Her bowels felt full again. A cold sweat broke out upon her brow. How was this possible? She had been twice in the last four hours, and had passed copious quantities of faecal matter. What was going on?

She got up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Standing up, she stumbled towards the door, still half-asleep. But then something happened to bring her abruptly to her senses: her panties suddenly filled up with poo.

She squealed in alarm and her hand shot back to cradle her sagging panties. The expulsion had occurred completely without warning, a long soft turd firing out of her anus and curling up around her buttocks. Cursing, she began to waddle towards the bathroom, trying not to lose any of the poo out of the sides of her panties.

But then she stopped in her tracks, stiffening in alarm. The poo was moving! She could definitely feel it writhing about of its own accord inside her underwear. The next second she gasped in horror as she felt her vagina being forced open and her poo snaking its way into her cunt. In a panic she ran to the bathroom, while the rest of her poo continued to slither into her, penetrating her like an immensely long, soft, disgusting brown penis.

She reached the toilet and pulled her panties down quickly. But there was no more poo left in them – just a brown stain and streaky marks. Bending down frantically to look between her legs, she saw the very end of her long poo disappearing inside her vagina. She grabbed at it, but she was too late. Screwing up her face in disgust, she stuck two fingers into her cunt, feeling around for the poo. But whether it felt her coming or because it had a further purpose, it retreated deeper into her body and evaded her questing touch.

Now extremely worried, Alison lay down on the floor in an attempt to get a better angle, and she pushed her fingers as deep inside her cunt as possible. But it was no use – the poo had somehow forced itself into her womb. Alison gave up, and looked down at her abdomen. It was distended, as if she were full of wind or ? and here she shuddered at the thought ? a couple of months pregnant.

Shakily she got to her feet. What was she to do now? Call for an ambulance? What on Earth would she tell them? She pulled some toilet paper from the roll fixed to the wall, and painstakingly wiped herself clean. Maybe, she thought to herself, the poo would come out by itself. At any rate there did not seem to be much she could do about it at the moment.

She returned to her bedroom, put on a clean pair of panties, and lay down, though she knew she would not be able to sleep. She fancied she could feel something stirring inside her belly, but the sensation was brief and she decided after a minute that she had probably imagined it. She pulled the covers up to her neck and huddled under them, hoping her brother would call again soon.

An hour later she awoke suddenly. Something was wrong. She felt ? full. A great pressure was building up in her abdomen. She quickly reached over and turned her bedside light on, then threw back the covers. She screamed in terror as she saw that her belly had swelled up like a balloon – she looked nine months pregnant. And whatever was inside her was moving, and pushing outwards. Involuntarily Alison spread her legs apart, preparing to give birth, but then she realised she was still wearing her panties. She reached down to try to remove them, but it was difficult to negotiate her vast bulge. And no sooner had she grabbed hold of them than a massive contraction hit her and she cried out in pain.

She strained hard, spreading her legs and trying to breathe like women did in hospital dramas when they were giving birth. She felt her vaginal opening dilate as her monstrous cargo fought to escape from her body. Raising her legs after the contraction had subsided, she finally managed to pull her panties off, and she tossed them on to the floor. Then another contraction hit, and she felt as if her groin was on fire as a huge round object forced its way through her orifice. For an instant she was stretched wider than she would have thought possible, and then suddenly the object was through, and she sank back on to her pillow, exhausted.

But more was to come. She could feel that the object was still half inside her and half outside, and she raised herself up on to her elbows to see what exactly it was. From the vile smell of excrement, she knew what it was made of, but she was shocked at the truly awful sight that met her eyes.

She was looking at the head of a baby. At the sight she screamed with horror, then strained for all she was worth to get the rest of the hideous creature out of her body. With a wet, slithering sound, it emerged completely: an infant apparently made entirely out of poo, rather thinner than a human baby, but considerably longer. Its head, mercifully, was quite small, otherwise she would surely have been split open as it came out.

The creature kicked its arms and legs feebly as Alison watched it in horror. Then a sudden resolve came upon her, and she grabbed hold of it and got up off the bed. It struggled in her hands, and her fingers sank into its flesh which, she discovered, was no more and no less than pure poo. She shuddered and rushed through to the bathroom, where she deposited the disgusting thing in the toilet. Then she flushed.

The baby was far too big to be flushed, however, and it was also none too keen on Alison’s plan. Here it proved itself rather more precocious than a human baby, for it pulled itself upright and began climbing out of the bowl even as the flushing water poured over it. Alison backed away, horrified, as it turned beady little brown-within-brown eyes upon her. Then it smiled slowly, revealing a wide, toothless mouth in which lolled what could only be described as a tongue.

Alison fled, hurrying back to her bedroom and slamming the door behind her. She threw herself on her bed, sobbing, wondering how she was ever going to get herself out of this mess. It was all the fault of the spells she had cast, she had no doubt of that, though she had no idea how or why they had gone wrong.

And then she realised that her bowels were full again. She badly needed to poo, but the thought of going back to the bathroom to face that ? thing ? it was too awful a concept for words. But her dilemma soon became academic – a long, slender poo slithered out of her anus without warning and then immediately itself turned around, its rounded front end seeking her cunt.

But Alison was too quick. In a flash she had rolled over and jumped off the bed, whereupon she ran for the door as if terrified that her poo would try to come after her. Opening it, she hurried through, only to trip over the nightmarish creature to which she had given birth just a few minutes ago. She fell to the floor, hitting her head on a large, ceramic plant pot which contained a three-year-old yucca. Dazed, she rolled over on to her back, then gasped as she saw that her faecal offspring had apparently grown larger since she had last seen it. It was almost three feet tall, and it was standing upright with the confidence of a human child of the same height.

Without a sound, it pounced upon Alison, landing on her stomach and leaving brown smears of poo all over her flesh where the t-shirt had ridden up to expose her midriff. It reached for her face with two chubby brown arms, and she grabbed hold of its wrists with her hands. Its flesh was soft and her fingers sank into the poo, but although she squeezed as hard as she could, she could not break or sever the horrible infant’s limbs. A centimetre or two beneath the squishy excremental epidermis lay a tough skeletal framework of highly compressed poo, and this effectively held the abominable creature together in one piece.

She wrestled with it for a few seconds, then cried out in alarm and clamped her legs together as she felt something probe between the lips of her pussy. With a sinking heart and a churning stomach she felt her vaginal opening widen as her most recent poo slid smoothly into her cunt. Summoning all her strength she rolled over on to her side, hurling the poo-child down the stairs. Then she scrabbled at her pussy, inserting her fingers into her cunt, but once again it was too late – the turd was entrenched deep within her body.

This was the last straw. She just had to do something. Perhaps there was a spell for this type of emergency. She got to her feet and dashed into the study, slamming the door behind her.

As she reached out to switch the computer on, she realised that her hands were covered in poo. Indeed, so were her arms, her inner thighs, her shins, and most of her front. She took off her t-shirt and wiped herself down thoroughly, managing to get herself pretty clean within a minute or two. She tossed the t-shirt in a corner – it was now disgustingly filthy.

She switched on the computer and waited impatiently for Windows to load up. She forced herself to relax, to calm down, while she opened the spell book and flicked through it idly. She could understand hardly anything without her brother’s computerised notes, but it was at least something to do.

The hard drive finally stopped whirring, and she loaded up the spell translations document. Poring through it, she searched for some reference to reversing the effects of spells, but after half an hour of reading she began to despair of finding such a thing.

And then the door handle began to turn. Paralysed with fear, Alison watched as it rotated through ninety degrees, whereupon the door started to open, pushed from without. Alison leapt to her feet and charged against the door, shutting it again and holding the handle firmly in place. It tried to turn underneath her fingers, but her grip was tight and she successfully resisted the attempt.

But how long could she stay here? She realised she needed something to brace the door with, and cast her eyes about the room. There did not seem to be anything that would serve the purpose, but then, what was the point in barricading herself in here? There was no phone in this room, unfortunately, so she could not even call for the emergency services.

Her gaze lit upon her stomach, and a cold sweat broke out upon her brow as she noticed her abdomen was bulging as if she were five or six months along. This was no good – in another half-hour she would be giving birth to another poo-baby, and then what would she do?

Leaning over as far as she could without letting go of the door handle, she turned the computer monitor so that it was facing her. Pulling the keyboard towards her, she managed to reach the Page Up and Page Down keys, which she used to continue searching through the document.

Twenty minutes later, something that sounded pretty large was hurling itself against the study door with a loud THUD, THUD sound. The handle quickly turned beneath her grasp and she yelped, but she managed to keep it under her control. Continuing through the translations, she suddenly came across what she was looking for: a cancellation spell. Reading through it carefully, she worked out what she needed to do and memorised the strange Old English words.

Now it was time to make a dash for the kitchen. She took a deep breath, then pulled open the study door and ran out on to the landing, straight into the waiting arms of her hour-old poo-child, which was now more than six feet tall and built like a heavyweight boxer. She screamed as it wrapped its arms around her, pulling her against its foul, squishy body. Her naked breasts pressed into its stomach, sinking deep into the soft poo. Her pregnant bulge did likewise, then slid up the creature’s torso as it lifted Alison bodily off the ground.

She screamed again and began kicking at it, but although her toes sank a couple of inches into the monster’s legs with each blow, it did not appear to feel any pain. It carried her through into her bedroom and threw her down on to her bed. Before she had time to roll out from under it, it had lowered itself on top of her, pinning her down so she could not move. In the illumination of her bedside light, she watched in horror as its moist, knobbly, evil-smelling face approached hers with a sickening inevitability. Its mouth opened and a long, brown tongue snaked out, seeking her lips.

Eyes wide with terror, Alison kept her lips firmly shut, but the creature’s tongue merely began to lick all over her face, coating her cheeks, nose, forehead, chin and eyelids with sticky wet poo. In doing so, perhaps inadvertently, it pushed some poo up into both of her nostrils, so that she could not breathe. She was forced to open her mouth to take a gulp of air, and in that moment the disgusting long tongue of poo slid into her mouth and began to wrestle with her own tongue in a vile French kiss.

She exhaled sharply through her nose, blasting her nostrils free of poo, and began to hyperventilate as her brain refused to acknowledge what was happening to her. She felt the monster’s tongue probe the back of her throat, causing her to gag, but she managed to hold her supper down as the immensely long tongue snaked down her oesophagus towards her stomach.

A moment later she experienced her first contraction. The creature apparently felt it, too, for it withdrew its tongue and got up on to its knees, straddling her. Alison tried to get up, but it dispassionately shoved her back down. Turning around so that it had its back to her face, it sat heavily on her chest and bent down to have a look at her pussy. It pulled her legs apart, and Alison beat upon its lower back with her fists, to no avail.

Another contraction came, and she began to strain to force the new poo-baby out. The huge monster sitting astride her began to massage her pussy, sliding its squishy hands up and down over her clit and labia. This caused her to shudder with revulsion, but it seemed to help a little with the pain.

With the next contraction the new poo-baby emerged, inch by inch, until the adult monster could get hold of it. The huge creature pulled it out and turned around with a great beam upon its brown face, showing Alison the little version of itself that she had just given birth to. She turned away, tears pouring down her cheeks.

The monster set the infant down on the bed next to him, then it lay back down on top of Alison, who was still on her back with her legs spread. She was trying to ignore what was happening, to think of something else, but this became impossible when she felt something new enter her abused vagina. Looking up with a shocked expression into the smiling face of the adult creature on top of her, she realised it had just inserted a large, faecal penis into her. It began to thrust, pumping its hard member in and out of her cunt, while its open mouth drooled liquid poo on to her face. She turned her face to one side and spat in disgust.

As the disgusting beast fucked her with what was in fact simply a very firm poo, Alison tried to work out what had gone wrong with her spells. The first one she had cast, she recalled, had been to relieve her constipation. This had apparently worked. So what had gone wrong? Were these ghastly events all side-effects of that spell? It seemed hard to believe.

The second spell had been supposed to grant her wristwatch the ability to move of its own accord. Had this one, perhaps, backfired? Had the spell been cast not on her watch but on the poo inside her? But why should this be the case? Alison had no idea about this, but it was looking likely that this is what had happened.

Another of her spells caused objects to replicate themselves. Again, this fit the profile. Yet another spell, cast on the photo of her beloved Vince, was supposed to make him lust after her. And again, this spell had apparently been cast on her poo. But why? What had she done wrong?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden increase in the pace of the monster’s thrusting. Its body trembled and its hands gripped her shoulders tightly. She felt a surge of warm diarrhoea flood up into her cunt and, though she did not know it, into her womb, where a dozen or so tiny new poo-embryos began to grow at an exponential rate.

The monster had now grabbed her wrists and pushed them up to the headboard, where Alison’s second poo-child was waiting with a pair of her stockings. It began to inexpertly tie her left wrist to one of the vertical wooden bars, and Alison, once she realised this, began to struggle with renewed vigour. The adult monster held her fast, however, and within ten minutes the task was complete: Alison was securely tied and would not be able to free herself without help. And help was a very long way away.

The adult monster, now a good seven feet in height, pushed Alison’s knees up against her chest and began to shove its penis, which had recovered its hardness, into her anus. She cried out in pain and horror, but there was nothing she could do, and soon the monster’s penis was buried deep inside her, thrusting back and forth and seemingly growing larger all the time.

For a good half hour the monster fucked Alison’s rectum, and she could do nothing but watch helplessly while her second child grew larger and larger. By the time the adult had pumped a couple of pints of diarrhoea into her bowels, the child was approaching four feet in height and its erect penis was obviously troubling it. As soon as its big brother pulled out of Alison’s anus amid a torrent of liquid poo, it positioned itself between her legs and hammered its erection into her cunt. As Alison glanced down to look at it despite herself, she noticed with a numb feeling of self-loathing that her belly was back to its maximum bulging size.

But it did not stop there, and she was far from ready to give birth. As Offspring Number Two had its way with her over the next fifteen minutes, Alison’s belly grew to unheard-of proportions, exceeding football-size, then basketball-size, and finally approaching beachball-size as her faecal rapist shot his load into her. She felt certain she must be about to explode, when her first contraction suddenly hit and she began to strain hard in an attempt to give birth.

Over the next half hour, she gave birth to one after another of her first poo-child’s own children, popping one out every minute or so. By the time she had finished, her second offspring was as large as the first, and the first of the new batch was already half-grown and ready for its first fuck, which the adults generously allowed it.

And now her bowels were full again, and a two-foot-long snake of a poo slithered out of her anus. She was completely unable to prevent it from entering her cunt, and so it took up residence within her womb alongside the growing embryos of her second child.

From then on Alison was being screwed constantly by a never-ending succession of poo monsters. An hour later, her room was so crowded that some of the monsters had to go out and wait on the landing for their turn. By that time she was also giving birth again, to a whole new batch. Frustrated that they could not screw her while she was giving birth, several of the adults stood around her and masturbated until they showered her body with copious quantities of diarrhoea. Her hair was soaked in the stuff, her body covered in it, and still she was popping out more ba
by monsters who would soon add to her torment. She wanted to die.

At five-thirty in the morning, when she had just given birth to her forty-ninth poo-child – the last of the latest batch – an exhausted Alison was surprised to find her hands being untied. She sat up and began to rub her wrists, but powerful arms told hold of her and she was lifted and carried out of the room. Cradled in the arms of a seven-foot poo monster, she was as helpless as ever, but she struggled nonetheless as she was taken downstairs to the front door, which was being held open by one of the monsters.

It was light outside by now, but still quiet. A cool breeze caressed Alison’s naked body as she was taken outside and around to the back of the house. Seizing her chance to attract the attention of her huge-breasted next-door neighbour, Karen, she opened her mouth and screamed, but a quick slap of a squishy brown hand over her mouth silenced her.

She was passed over the fence to a waiting monster, who then held her impaled her on his penis and fucked her while, one by one, all the monsters climbed over the fence. Seeing the filthy mess they were all leaving behind them, Alison was cheered by the thought that at least her brother would be able to track her, if she remained a captive until he got back. Then, once the awful beast holding her had filled her womb with more diarrhoea, she was carted off again, and it seemed the monsters were heading for the farmland at the edge of the town. This worried Alison – if the creatures managed to get her out into the countryside, it would be much easier for them to remain undetected, and to keep hold of her. She could not allow that to happen.

Five minutes later, as she was being passed over a brick wall, Alison judged she now had as good an opportunity for escape as she was likely to get. She kicked desperately and managed to free her leg just as the monster behind her let go of her arms. Now straddling the brick wall, she jumped up and started running along it, overjoyed to be free yet terribly fearful of being recaptured. She dropped down into a well-tended garden, stumbled, then recovered herself and continued running. A couple of thuds behind her told her that her pursuers were not far away.

Increasing her pace to a sprint, the naked, poo-covered girl vaulted a wooden gate and dashed out into the road, where she turned and ran for her life. A glance behind her confirmed her fears – the nearest monsters were less than twenty yards away and gaining on her, leaving messy brown footprints as they ran.

She ducked suddenly into a narrow alley, hoping to find a ladder that she could climb – she fancied she was probably more agile than they, and decided her best chance of escaping would be to choose routes that the monsters would find difficult, given their rather unique anatomical characteristics.

But the alley contained no ladders that she could see, only a number of doorways that she dared not try for fear they should lead into rooms with no other exits. On her left she spotted another alley, and she darted into it, hoping the monsters had not yet turned the last corner and would now lose her.

The alley, however, proved to be a dead end, and her heart sank. But then she noticed a manhole cover set into the concrete floor, and she quickly ran over to it and struggled to pull it open. It was heavy, but she managed to lift it and push it to one side of the hole. Peering down, she saw a ladder that led downward into the darkness. She swung her legs into the manhole and began to descend.

As her head reached the level of the ground, she tried to grab the manhole cover and pull it across the hole. But at that moment she heard the wet thudding of the monsters’ feet, and saw them charging down the alley towards her. With a shriek, she abandoned the cover and quickly climbed down the ladder until she reached the bottom, twenty feet or so below. She found herself in cold, ankle-deep water, but it was so dark she could not see what kind of tunnel she was in or where the exits led.

Feeling around with her hands, she began to blunder blindly along the tunnel, wishing she had a torch. The squeaks of rats sent a chill running down her spine, but she bravely continued as quickly as she could. Splashing sounds behind her indicated that the monsters were still following, and she started running more quickly even though she knew she might at any moment hit something hard that would give her a nasty injury at this speed.

A step downwards caused her to trip and fall, but she splashed into the shallow water without any harm. Getting up, she realised she was at a junction, and turned left. Feeling along the wall for a ladder, she ran a little more cautiously, until she came to a point where the wall seemed to stop.

Further tactile investigation revealed she had come to an alcove in the wall, and this gave her an idea. Squeezing herself into the alcove, she kept very still in the hope that the creatures would pass by and not notice her. Hardly daring to breathe, she tried to ignore the rats running over her feet. One of them gave her ankle a nip and she fought down a yelp, then kicked the animal out into the tunnel. Placing her hands on her belly, she realised she was extremely pregnant again.

Then the first of the monsters came running past, closely followed by several others. After a short interval, some more arrived, jogging more slowly, and behind these were others that were walking, feeling their way along the walls. Alison, crouching down in her hiding place, prayed that she would not be discovered.

And, somehow, she was not. When she judged that about fifty monsters had passed by her, she tiptoed out of her alcove and began to retrace her steps. This proved to be difficult. Her belly was now bigger than a basketball and extremely heavy – she could manage only a slow walking pace and had to stop and rest every few minutes. All the time, of course, she was getting even bigger, and fifteen minutes later, at which point she judged she was truly lost, she sank to the floor under the weight of a beachball-sized bulge.

A contraction came upon her and she cried out involuntarily. A moment later the first poo-baby of the new brood began to emerge. She lay on her back and feebly tried to ward off the rats that scrambled over her body, nipping at her breasts, her arms, her legs and her torso, while she strained to expel the grotesque life-forms she had created.

Twenty minutes later, when the forty-nine adult poo monsters found her, she was still giving birth. In their tiny little minds they rejoiced. They had found their mother-goddess, and she in turn had found them a new home, one in which they were unlikely to be discovered, where they could hide out and multiply, filling the vast city sewer system with hundreds of their kind, all born to this beautiful woman who lay before them. Once she had finished giving birth to the latest brood, all fifty adults would take it in turns to fuck both her cunt and her anus, and after that, the new arrivals would be big enough to do the same. And by then this wonderful woman would be ready to give birth again. And again. And again?

TO BE CONTINUED……………..WAIT FOR THE NEXT PART

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