Message-ID: <23210asstr$953284201@assm.asstr-mirror.org> From: Saynesberry@aol.com X-Original-Message-ID: MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="US-ASCII" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Subject: {ASSM} An E-Mail from Granny (teen f, bestiality) Date: Fri, 17 Mar 2000 04:10:01 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: apuleius, dennyw AN E-MAIL FROM GRANNY by Frank Saynesberry WARNING: This is not a nice story. It is not a pleasant story. It is not a funny story. Do not read if you are disturbed by disturbing things. Read it if you choose; enjoy it if you can. ******************************************************************* "See you tomorrow, Rosa," said Janelle Tompkins, easing the big yellow school bus to a complete stop and letting the door hiss open. "You be a good girl now, hear?" 15-year-old Rosa Reithaube looked over her shoulder at the enormous woman who drove the bus, and flashed her prettiest smile. "You bet, Janelle! Have a good one!" Then, hefting her book-bag more securely onto her shoulder, she grabbed the chrome bar by the door and swung down to the pavement. When she reached the sidewalk, the door slid shut again, and Rosa waved merrily to her shouting, laughing classmates and friends as the bus slowly rolled away. When it was out of sight, she began the two-block trudge to her house on Wildwood Circle. It was a beautiful spring day, school would be over soon, and, best of all, she had just received the best birthday present of her young life: a brand-new, state-of-the-art personal computer! Her father, she recalled, had been so cute when he gave it to her: a simple man who loved his only child fiercely, he often seemed embarrassed when he gave her such wonderful gifts, or did anything super-special for her. "It's no big deal," he had muttered when she unwrapped the machine, squealing with delight, "I just figured with you goin' to high school next fall, it might help you with your homework, or something." She had, of course, rushed to throw her arms around his neck and babble her gratitude in his ear; he blushed, gave her a fatherly bear-hug squeeze, and then helped her assemble and install the thing in her bedroom. What he didn't say, of course, was what they both knew anyway: that for all his good intentions, he wasn't much help with her homework under the best circumstances. Walter Reithaube was an agricultural engineer for one of the country's largest forestry companies, and although he possessed vast technical and biological knowledge (and was very well paid), he was, in social or family situations, painfully shy, and not very free with words. But he loved his daughter, and when her mother had died years before, he had sworn to himself that the child would want for nothing. On those frequent occasions when he had to travel, he would actually hire a registered nurse (although he called her a "housekeeper") to come and stay with Rosa until he returned. Grandmother Reithaube lived just across town, but how reliable could such an elderly person be in a crisis? ("Elderly," in this case, meant 55 or 60, but Rosa's father felt more comfortable hiring a professional.) Even now, only a few days after Rosa's birthday, he would have to hop on a jet to survey some newly acquired timberland in Wisconsin. Reaching her front door at last, Rosa unlocked the door and shrugged off the backpack on a nearby chair. "Miss Bennett?" she called, but there was no answer. Apparently, the "housekeeper" (or baby-sitter, in Rosa's disgruntled view) had gone to the grocery store or on some other errand, and would be back soon. Rosa wandered into the kitchen, ate one of the last remaining slices of birthday cake, and poured a glass of milk, which she carried up the stairs to her room. Her room was a mess, of course, but no more so than that of any girl who had just turned 15, without a mother's constant nagging to keep it clean. Her unmade queen-sized bed was covered with stuffed animals, fashion magazines, and all the usual artifacts of any American teenager's existence. Schoolbooks and assignments had been relegated to the floor when the new computer was set up atop her small desk. And, after a quick visit to the bathroom, it was to the computer that she headed, like a honeybee to the hive. Settling down in her chair and booting the machine up, she was quickly connected to her service provider, and she was delighted, as usual, when the bells and voices and ever-shifting images began to load. Soon, the little window popped up listing her on-line "buddies," most of whom were friends from school with whom she exchanged many hours of happy, relatively mindless gossip and chitchat. Except, that is, for one particular person. "Girl-talk" (or, even better, boy-talk) was great, but when Rosa really needed to confide in someone, or just cry on somebody's shoulder, her most important "buddy" was none other than Grandmother Reithaube. A year earlier, concerned because his widowed mother lived alone, Walter had bought a computer for her, too, to help her while away the hours of loneliness, as well as provide an extra lifeline if there were ever a health emergency. Now, however, Rosa and her Grandmother, who had been very close since Rosa's Mom had died, frequently held long, often intimate conversations through the electronic emptiness of cyberspace. Even now, Gran's name began to flash on Rosa's list, inviting her to "chat." Rosa excitedly double-checked her font settings (she always used a blue script on a pink background), and then clicked on her Grandmother's name. "Hi, Gran," she typed quickly. "How ya doin' today?" "I'm just fine, honey," came the reply after a moment, "and how's my favorite granddaughter? Did you just get home from school?" Rosa waited patiently, while simultaneously bringing up her favorite fashions page. Her Grandmother's keyboarding had always been lightning-fast, for she was a former secretary, but lately it had slowed down considerably. Rosa, of course, being new to the on-line experience, didn't recognize the difference, and thought that Gran just typed slowly because she was getting old. "Yes, and Gran, guess what? I think Alex Russell is gonna ask me to the dance next week! I can't believe it! I've been dying to go out with him, but since he's a senior, I didn't even think he knew I was alive! But Lucy, you know, my friend Lucy, she talked to Alex's brother and...." Rosa's fingers moved over the keyboard in a blur; obviously, a teenager could babble in cyberspace as well as anywhere else. "Why, Rosa Reithaube! Do you mean Sally and Alan Russell's boy? Why, I've known that child since he was born! I even went to school with his grandfather, Jack Russell! What a coincidence!" Slow typist or not, the words flashed like lightning across Rosa's screen. The girl's eyes grew wide with astonishment, and she began furiously pecking at the keyboard again. "Are U kidding, Gran? That's SOOOOO not to be believed!" Although a "newbie," Rosa had already picked up the abbreviations and shortcuts favored by teenagers, as became obvious when she became excited. "Yes, Alex's parents are named Alan and Sally! And U KNOW them?" In case her Grandmother didn't see how thrilled she was, she typed a string of smiley-face emoticons after the words. "Know them? Honey, I practically raised them! You know, poor Jack - - - that would be your Alex's grandfather - - - was killed in a tragic, tragic hunting accident, and I was very close to his widow; poor thing, she's gone too, now. But I practically raised little Alan myself, and now you think his boy is going to ask you out!" "That's awesome, Gran," Rosa wrote. But the thing she found most awesome was Gran's phrase, "your Alex....." Mine? she thought. He hasn't even asked yet! But if he did....and Gran knows them all so well....oh, wouldn't Daddy be surprised? "Oh, Gran, this is just unreal!" she wrote. "Oh, I wish there were some way...I mean, I'm sure you don't see them very much any more, but if only they knew how much I like him....or I'd like to like him, or something!" Rosa couldn't hear her Grandmother's laughter, but she sensed it when the "old lady's" next words appeared: "Oh, honey, I think I understand perfectly! Now, let me think. Your old Gran's not entirely useless, you know! Well, since you're my favorite granddaughter [in fact, Rosa was the only granddaughter, but this was their little joke], and because poor Jack is probably smiling down on us right now, let me get off this silly machine and make some phone calls. And I'll get back in touch with you a little later. Now, go do your homework!" Before Rosa could even finish typing her reply, her Grandmother's name disappeared from the screen. Puzzled, troubled, excited, and ecstatic (a mixture of emotions occurring frequently in the adolescent female), Rosa deleted her fashion "magazine" and reluctantly started to do research for an English paper that was due the next week. For some reason, Ms. Bennett had not returned yet, but this didn't trouble the girl; if she got hungry, she was quite capable of feeding herself, and Ms. Bennett had, once or twice, been known to come in quite late at night. Rosa hadn't reported this to her father; she was saving it for ammunition in some future dispute: "Well, you think your wonderful Ms. Bennett takes such good care of me, but let me tell you....." Yes, that would be worth a few points! After an hour, Rosa took a break and went down to the kitchen, where she cooked herself a quick hamburger and defrosted some ready-cut French fries; after gobbling them down, she put the dishes in the sink and walked back to her room. When she got there, she immediately saw the light flashing in the corner of her monitor screen, informing her that she had a message waiting. She ran to the computer and sat down; in a split-second, she was reading her Grandmother's latest e-mail, sent perhaps 30 minutes before. "Rosa: I tried to get you on the fast-message thing, but you must have been downstairs. I just took my medication and am going to bed, but I wanted to tell you about the strangest thing! You know that old sofa I've had forever and ever? I've wanted to send it down to the Salvation Army for ages, but it's so hard to find the right time. I know your Dad would help if he were here, but he's not, and I just WON'T look at it another DAY! So tomorrow afternoon, guess who's volunteered to come carry it away for me? Why, that dear Sally Russell said that her boy Alex would be delighted to do it, just as soon as he gets out of school tomorrow! Well, dear, that's all. When are you going to come visit? Wink!!!" Rosa couldn't believe it. The nerve of the old woman! The very idea! Oh, God bless her! That was her Gran! Her buddy! She moved mountains when nobody but she and Rosa knew the mountains were there! She laughed and actually clapped her hands with delight, then turned off the computer, tore into the last of her must-do homework, and then spun through her nightly shower, humming and squealing a love song from a movie about a leaky ocean liner. By the time the mysterious Ms. Bennett finally got home (she had been working a part-time job at a florist's shop, a fact she had not chosen to share with Rosa's father), the girl had been in bed for half an hour, humming, planning, not-quite-dreaming about the coming day. When Ms. Bennett quietly opened the bedroom door to check on her, the "housekeeper" smiled contentedly and went to her own quarters for the night. When sleep eventually began to gently overcome her thoughts of Alex Russell, Rosa was unconsciously sucking her thumb like a baby, while her other hand, slick with her own juices, came finally to rest in the tangle of blonde hair between her thighs. * * * * * * * The day had gone by like a blur. Rosa had expected the time to drag unbearably while she waited for her "surprise rendezvous" at Gran's house, but she was pleased to find that the hours passed quickly. Of course, her thoughts were centered on Alex throughout the day, whether sitting in class ignoring the teachers, or sitting in the cafeteria ignoring her friends' chatter, or standing in the Girls' Room, perhaps ten times during the day, surveying herself in the mirror: barely five feet two; strawberry-blonde hair that had never been really cut, and hung to her waist in golden waves; skinny, but promising, legs, and upturned, 32-inch breasts, unhampered by a bra, beneath her white cotton shirt and cute cut-off "overalls." Her tiny feet, of course, were encased in fashionable "trail boots" that appeared to weigh about ten pounds apiece. Yes, she decided, Alex would notice her today! Instead of taking the bus home from school that afternoon, she was lucky enough to catch a ride with a friend who lived only a couple of blocks from Gran's house. She gossiped happily with the friend, even taking time to join her in a forbidden cigarette once they'd arrived at the her house; after all, she wanted to give Alex time to get to Gran's before she did. It shouldn't look like a setup or a trap! She almost laughed at the idea, choking on a breath of smoke. Then, thanking her friend again for the ride, she struck out for her Grandmother's house. When she arrived, she was disappointed to see that Alex's car was not in sight; apparently, she'd gotten there ahead of him, after all. Oh, great, she thought, this really will look like a trap! But Gran's intentions were good, and it could still work out if she just stifled her nerves and acted natural. That's it, she thought. Dazzle him with your maturity! She walked up the steps and knocked at Gran's front door. There was no response, but such was not unusual. Either Gran hadn't heard the door, or was in the bathroom, or something. Play it natural, remember? she reminded herself. So she tentatively reached for the doorknob, and, when it turned easily in her hand, she pushed the door open and strolled in, just as though this were her everyday routine. The little house was certainly active; a soap opera was blaring from the television, most of the lamps were on, and there was even a whiff of coffee coming from the kitchen. She walked through the house, glancing into each room. Everything was normal, but where was Gran? Then, realizing just how much alike she and her Grandmother were, she laughed out loud and headed for the woman's bedroom. She's probably on the computer, talking to somebody else! Rosa pushed open the bedroom door and glanced around. No Gran, but sure enough, the computer was on, its monitor flashing wildly: apparently there was a message for someone, but it would have to wait; she wanted to find her Grandmother. She noticed that the door was closed to the small bathroom nearby, walked over, and gently rapped on it. But instead of receiving a reply, Rosa was surprised when the door, which had been just slightly ajar, creaked open, and there was Gran. Gran was in the bathtub, mostly, but she also seemed to be in the sink; except for her head, with its agonized, extinguished eyes staring up from inside the toilet bowl. Strips and scraps of Gran's favorite lounging outfit, now soaked with blood, clung to the walls, hung from the shower rod, and cluttered the floor. Virtually every surface in the little room was covered with blood: the mirror, the little window, even the ceiling, from which some of Gran's grey-brown hair also dangled, stuck there by congealed gore. And in the bathtub, mixed together with the mutilated flesh, was a mass of feces and half-digested food. Police later estimated that, at the time of Rosa's discovery, her Grandmother had been dead for approximately 48 hours. So poor little Rosa Reithaube added to the mess by instantly vomiting, and if she hadn't just urinated at her friend's house, she probably would have done that too; but something kept her from fainting, and since some people react differently than others, she didn't scream. After hacking and choking out the last of the vomit, she staggered back into the bedroom and approached the table where the telephone sat. But wait, she said to herself, turn off that fucking computer first! Its flashing screen was driving her crazy! Then, as she neared the computer, she momentarily froze. For the entire screen was a field of yellow, with a message in bright red letters; and the very top line, in 48-point Tahoma bold, said, WELCOME, ROSA!!! Again she felt the urge to vomit, but this time there was nothing to bring up. She stood in front of the computer, sweating, tears and mucous rushing from her eyes and nose, and stuffed her hands into her armpits, hugging herself as she read: "Sorry, dear, that you missed your boyfriend, but since he wasn't coming anyway, you didn't really miss him! And I'm sorry, my sweet, about all this mess, and that Gran isn't more, shall we say, 'presentable,' but I had to amuse myself while I waited for you. I'm just glad we finally have a chance to meet. We can't talk, because I don't exactly speak English, but with a lot of practice, you'd be surprised at how well one can operate a keyboard with paws instead of hands! And why do I have paws? THE BETTER TO FEEL YOU WITH, MY DEAR!" As she read the final words in the crazy message, Rosa heard a low, throaty growl coming from the corner of the room behind Gran's bed. Dazed with horror, trying desperately to believe it was only a dream, she turned around very slowly and saw it. Rising up from the floor where it had been hiding, the wolf was blackish-brown, with irregular traces of silver running through its heavy, matted fur. It didn't look much larger than a very large German Shepherd, but every inch was wiry and wild and literally trembling with aggression. Its ears lay slightly back against its skull, and its twitching lips were drawn back to reveal yellowish, jagged fangs. But most bizarre of all were the other two features that instantly registered on Rosa's reeling consciousness: the wide, foot-long erection, jutting bright red and dripping from the beast's underbelly, and its gleaming, evil eyes, staring out at Rosa from behind Gran's own gold-framed reading glasses, which perched precariously on the animal's snout. It was the glasses, in fact, which finally overcame her. Without losing consciousness, without even closing her eyes, Rosa's lithe young body seemed to simply surrender, and her knees buckled and she was suddenly on the floor, looking up at the ceiling. She waited for the darkness, but it did not come; she had not lived long enough to know just how stubborn her spirit really was. She lay sprawled on the bedroom carpet, unable to see anything but the constantly revolving images of the slaughter in the bathroom, the animal nearby, and, of all things, the face of Alex Russell! Still growling, the wolf shook his head and the reading glasses went flying across the room. He did not spring, but eased toward his prey in a crouch, one slow step at a time, as if waiting to see whether she would remain supine or suddenly leap up and fight. But finally he was there, sniffing at the petrified girl from head to foot, reaching out several times with a curiously dainty paw to press the flesh of her thigh, her face, or her breast. She shuddered at his touch, and when his head came close to her face, she fought the waves of nausea caused by his breath, sharp and foul from her grandmother's blood and flesh..... He was no longer growling, but would occasionally give forth a soft, contented moan, like a hound with its belly being scratched. Still crouching, he sniffed at her throat, where she had daubed a bit of perfume for Alex's sake, and then at her breast. Nudging its softness with his black, quivering nose, he sensed rather than felt the nipple through the cotton blouse and denim bodice of her overalls. Impatiently, but with infinite gentleness, he closed his teeth on the hidden nipple, then immediately released it, and repeated the process with the other breast. Rosa was nearly frozen with fear, but she realized that she still had some sort of defensive reflexes when the wolf made his next move. Backing up a step or two, the animal took the collar of the shirt, and the top seam of the bodice, in his teeth and ripped them away. The brass buttons from the denim straps pinged meaninglessly off the wall, as denim and blouse together came away in his strong jaws. Rosa shivered as the cool air rushed over her small pink nipples, and her breasts, although firm, shivered as well. Then the wolf began to lap at her breasts with the tip of his tongue, and as he settled into a more comfortable crouch, his hot, wet penis slapped up against Rosa's thigh, just above the knee. This was the catalyst for Rosa's reaction; if she hadn't known what was happening before, she knew now. With all the pent-up disappointment, horror, and grief within her, Rosa screamed and slammed the heels of her hands against the wolf's head, while at the same time rocking her hips so that her thigh would no longer be contaminated by his horrible penis. For the briefest moment, the animal's eyes registered shock, and he backed off a fraction of an inch; but before Rosa could take another breath, he hurled his body forward, slamming the breath from her, and with a heart-rending growl, he sank his deep, yellow canines into one of her naked shoulders. She screamed again, from pain this time, but the wolf merely sank his fangs in deeper, deeper, until they touched bone. Then he pulled back his head, using all his upper body strength, and lifted Rosa's shoulders from the floor; then, growling like an ancient engine, he chewed and worried and rammed her shoulder into the floor again and again. Finally, Rosa stopped screaming, stopped struggling, and simply lay in a daze, and the wolf released his hold. He had broken no arteries, but blood was already pooling around Rosa's shoulders and soaking her fine blonde hair. Had the wolf not stopped, he might easily have torn her arm off. The bitch had learned her lesson. She was aware of everything that happened after that, and she would never forget it. But even now, how could she believe it? Was this thing, this animal, this hairy, bloody relic of the forest, the same creature who had posed as her Grandmother, and "chatted" with her on the computer because he could not deceive her with his voice? Was this creature rational? Or had someone else, some crazy, awful human person, have incapacitated Gran, lain the trap for her, and then turned this wild beast loose in her home? But who would have dared to put the reading glasses on him? And he seemed to know exactly what he was doing! Even now, as he - - - oh, noooo..... The wolf took the remains of Rosa's overalls in his teeth and, with a few moves, tore them from her body. She was naked now, except for her white cotton panties. Again, he crouched beside her; again, he sniffed and licked at her nipples and armpits and belly. But this time she offered no resistance. He had destroyed her shoulder, she thought; next time it would be her throat....or worse. As if reading her mind, the wolf moved its surprisingly short, bloody snout around and began to sniff at her crotch, nudging her thighs apart. Then his long, dark-pink tongue snaked out and probed at her vagina through the cotton. Rosa began to weep, even as her uncomprehending body began to lubricate and prepare itself for sex. Realizing that the panties were not indeed a part of her flesh, but mere covering, the wolf gave a brief snarl and ripped out the crotch, leaving the low-cut waistband intact. Now she was naked; now he had her. Suddenly, he stood up, straightened, and walked around Rosa's body like a dog preparing to go to sleep. But sleep was not his aim. To Rosa's agonized surprise, he stood over her, only facing downward, and began nuzzling and nibbling at her vagina. It was the scent, she realized, and damned her own body; it was the scent of her over-stimulated pussy that was attracting the wolf's attention. He continued to lick and nip, once even breaking the skin of her labia with the sharp points of his teeth. Now, however, there was a new horror. The beast lowered his body until it came to rest on Rosa's own; and now, his huge, club-shaped erection was pressed directly over her face, its giant knob positioned atop her tightly clutched lips. His black, leathery balls rested directly beneath her nose, shutting off her nostrils. Now everything she did stimulated the beast more. If she tried to breathe through her nostrils, her breath would tickle his balls; if she dared open her lips, to try to suck some air between her teeth, his wet, red cock would actually slip into her mouth. After feeling that slimy, blood-swollen thing on her tongue once or twice, she was almost willing to suffocate. Fortunately, she didn't have to choose between choking to death or fellating a wild animal. Now the wolf was aroused beyond the point of no return, and he gave her pussy one last lick, sending another hated shiver of undeniable pleasure through her body, then rolled off her and stood up again. He resumed growling and began nudging his snout under the small of her back, trying to push his head farther beneath her with each movement. What on earth was he doing? Rosa wondered, her body dazed from the conflicting sensations of her tongue-bathed vagina and her shredded shoulder. Then she realized. He's growling! He's telling me to turn over! As his growls began to increase, she sobbed and rolled over, deciding to let him get it over with. He stopped growling at once. She gazed at him for a brief moment: Who are you? What are you? Why me? Then, not wanting the beast to suspect her of hesitating, she bit her lip and leaned forward on her elbows and forearms, her forehead resting on her hands. She raised her little ass to the presentation position, putting all the weight of her lower body on her knees, and finally, with the most Godforsaken sob imaginable, she reached around behind her hips and spread her pussy lips as wide as possible. The wolf was on her and in her in an instant. Clasping his forelegs firmly around her ribcage, his black, thorn-like claws ripping into her swaying, bobbing breasts, he buried his snout in her sweat-stained, blood-soaked hair, once so golden, and snuffled loudly in her ear as his wild, ever-swelling cock began to work its way into her vagina. She felt her outer and inner labia spreading, flattening desperately to accommodate him, and her vagina continued to frantically lubricate: not for passion, but for self-protection. If her pussy were dry, this monstrous cock would probably punch through and pierce her intestines......but she wasn't dry, and that didn't happen. All that happened was the continual clutching and literal pawing of her bruised little breasts, and the wolf's snuffles and gasps on her face, and that cock, now easily fourteen inches long and swollen like a club, swelling even more so as not to slip out, and the fierce banging away, eternal, unmerciful, Rosa's hymen torn from her body now, her perineum beginning to rip as though she was giving birth. Then, abruptly, an actual howl burst from the creature's lungs while nearly a quart of murky semen burst from his cock, filling Rosa instantly and then rushing back out, running down her thighs, running down the wolf's balls, dripping and pooling on the carpet below, as the animal howled and Rosa howled too, howled with despair, fearing that now she would die, or, even worse, she would survive. Little Rosa Reithaube had met the wolf, and the wolf had won. Until, finally spent, the animal's shrinking phallus slipped out of the girl, and she collapsed on the floor, finally, mercifully unconscious. And the wolf stood, dripping at one end and drooling at the other, its sensitive nose taking in all the scents of this savage new wilderness: the scents of sex and blood and shit and the rotting meat that used to be Rosa's best buddy, but would never be again. And although Rosa wondered forever after whether the wolf had been magic, and had really tricked her, or had merely been part of some twisted stranger's evil scheme, the wolf didn't wonder. The wolf knew. Panting, deciding what to do next, the beast glanced around the room, at the chaos and the confusion, until its burning eyes came to rest on the computer, where the cruel message to Rosa still flickered. And the dark eyes glittered, but whether they glittered in triumph or in puzzlement, no one will ever know, for at that moment, little Rosa Reithaube's father, that modern-day woodsman, burst through the door with a sawed-off shotgun and blew bits and pieces of the wolf as far as a quarter-mile away. The police, rushing in behind Mr. Reithaube, quickly secured the site, as one very sympathetic policewoman revived Rosa and wrapped her in a bright red blanket, taking care to cover her bloody and beaten head. "Come along, honey," the lady cop said, her arm around Rosa's shoulders. "It's time to leave Grandma's house." If you enjoyed this story, please write! Saynesberry@hushmail.com -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+