| <xmp>Sexual Material, meant for people over 18.
Why are you loitering? Damn kids. When I was your age
I knew where I wasn't wanted.
And I thought I said to stay the hell off of my lawn?
The In Your Ass Society Chronicles
Entry # 624
Leonard sat on the park bench eating his sandwich. He
was not what any would call out of place, sitting calmly in
the public park while around him people on their lunch
breaks streamed through. Some stopped to eat in
the idyllic scenery, others shuffled through on their way
to meet clients or loved ones for lunch. Meanwhile street
performers applied their specialized crafts for the
enjoyment of crowds.
A magician pulled the correct card from his ragged
shoe. A with a guitar mixed hits from the
sixties with his own songs of protest. Leonard kept his eye
on a mime. She was silently annoying the people trying to
purchase their lunch from one of the many vendors in the
A turtle neck covered the upper portion of her body,
accentuated by white gloves. The lower half of her body was
clothed in the black pants which predominated her
profession. They were tight, probably lycra, and stretched
over her bottom with a glossy sheen, showing off her modest
curves. The turtleneck was a size too small, perhaps. It
was hard to guess. Her brown hair was tied back into a
ponytail so it wouldn't get in the way of the white paint
covering her face.
It was the curves, reflected Leonard, that was the
reason anyone was paying attention to her. A few balding
businessmen were captivated by the lithe mime moving
her body to imitate, some would say mockingly, those around
her and then arrange invisible props about her.
He couldn't be sure but she looked quite attractive
under the layer of paint on her face. Shame she had to become
fascinated with mime, her face would have been so much better
suited to acting or dancing, anything where she didn't have to
cover it up.
Instead she was pretending to be trapped in an
invisible box, a mime classic. While the businessmen
watched her ass as she crouched down to find the boundaries
of the non-existent barrier Leonard examined her clothing
in more detail. He watched where the sweater ended on the
torso, trying to determine if the material stretched around
her legs and abdomen were only pants or the extension of a
larger bodysuit that continued on beneath her turtleneck.
The mime reached to the tip of her tip toes, pressing
her hands against the top of the invisible box's lid. The
bottom of her sweater rode up her stomach to reveal more of
the pants' material clinging to her body. Damn, Leonard
figured it had to be some sort of leotard.
This complicated matters. Why the hell couldn't she
have worn pants? Leonard took a bite out of his sandwich.
The brown bag beside him ruffled as a slight breeze went
by, but stood firm in the weak wind.
The invisible box trapping the mime got smaller and
smaller forcing the mime to crouch into herself. Again it
gave the businessmen a nice look at her ass.
If only it were that easy, Leonard mused. He dropped
the remains of his half eaten baloney sandwich on the
ground. A passing woman in a power suit gave him a
disapproving glance. Former hippie maybe, Leonard wondered.
He had no time to dwell on that. Reaching into the brown
bag beside him he pulled out an exacto knife, a small
recorder flute, and a small silver ring.
Standing up, Leonard stretched his legs. He had to
suppress a smile when the mime began to imitate him. Just
wait, he thought at the stretching girl. The girl's
attention tuned to another park patron, and she turned
around. Time to go.
Leonard tossed the ring so it would fall near the
mime's feet. It bounced a few times, Leonard could see the
girl's ears perk in attention, but she did not waiver from
her task at imitating a youth dancing to the beat from a
walkman. Her head moved down and the mime's body paused as
she caught sight of the ring.
Leonard tried to guess what she was thinking. Is that
real silver? Should I pick it up? Should I stay in mime if
I do? Where did this interesting bauble come from?
The mime bent over, presenting Leonard with exactly
the opportunity he desired. With great strides he rushed up
to the mime and pressed her neck down using all his might
with his left hand. The mime's body jumped in
alarm at the sudden, unforeseen, attack on her body.
Leonard kept his arm firm, keeping her head down. In his
right hand the flute and exacto knife were positioned so
that he could cut without losing his grip on the knife. He
let the blade come across the back of her body suit, cutting
a long line across the top of the material above her ass.
The struggled at first but stopped when the
blade pricked her skin. A crowd began to gather around the
gruesome display, but no one rushed in to rescue the
mime, even as she began to shriek for help. Leonard
carefully cut two more lines down from the first incision,
creating a flap in the material over the tight ass before
The exacto knife clattered on the ground as Leonard
pulled the flap of fabric down, exposing the girl's
fine firm buttocks. Around him in the assembled
crowd began to hoot and holler while other observers looked
on in disgust. The began to cry in both humiliation
Leonard noticed no noise, focusing solely on his
task. He extended his arm so that the recorder was as far
from him as he could manage and jammed it into the girl's
asshole. The mime howled loudly at the intrusion and the
pain it caused. Leonard pushed as hard as he could with his
to lodge the recorder as high up the girl's ass
as he could. He could imagine the tissue being torn, the
pain the suffered, as the small flute was slowly
fastened into her anal cavity.
When he felt he had spent too long a time at the task
Leonard stopped, letting go of the girl's head. She
collapsed onto the ground, her ass fell but still seemed to
be raised a little higher than the rest of her body, a recorder
jutting out from her asshole, the mouthpiece pushed into the air.
Leonard stood triumphantly over her body and shouted ",I do this
task in your ass."
The crowd hushed at this statement. And made barley
any move to stop Leonard as he ran to escape the
authorities on their way. He pushed through the crowd and
Behind him he thought he could hear the sound of a
flute being played.
Entry # 36
"Welcome back listeners, this is 1340 AM, it's two
o'clock in the morning. I'm Julie Hollander and this is
Simple Talk, the call-in show about whatever's on your
minds. Today I have a guest with me in the studio. If you
were listening yesterday you may remember that we began to
discuss the new terrorist organization which has gained the
public spotlight, the poorly named In Your Ass Society. One
of our callers was rather adamant in her belief that the
IYA Society wasn't as evil as they are believed to be.
Since it was such a shock to find a woman that believed
this position we've invited her too the studio."
"She has asked that her name be withheld so she will
not be tormented by those who do not share her beliefs. We
here at Simple Talk understand her fears and respect her
wishes. So we shall be referring to her as Ms. A"
"Yes, I really appreciate that."
"So Ms. A, tell us again why you think that the In
Your Ass Society isn't so bad?"
"It's not that I don't think they are bad, it's just
that I think the reason we call them bad is wrong."
"Come on Ms. A, they shove things up people's asses."
"Not people, women. So far every one of their attacks
has only been against women."
"That's certainly true, why do you think that is?"
"I just think they're heterosexual males afraid of
the idea of anything approaching sex."
"Think about it, you're a man, you've decided to
shove stuff up people's asses. Do you prefer to target the
good looking woman with tight buns and big or
the guy? Of course the is going to choose to shove
something up the woman's ass, even if they can't get the
thing shoved very high at least they've copped a feel."
"So you're saying it's rape?"
"It's always been rape. We've seen the footage on the
news, pictures in the papers, the magazine. Women on their
stomachs with various objects stuck in their asses. Can you
honestly say that the images weren't erotic in an obscene
sort of way? This is the first major news that's been
featured in pornographic magazines as is."
"I see, so what's your problem with the outrage
against these terrorists Ms. A?"
"Just that, they aren't terrorists."
"They come out of nowhere at public events and attack
innocent women. Sounds like terrorizing to me."
"No, the very nature of terrorism is to get attention
for your cause. Of the reported cases linked to the In Your
Ass Society less than a quarter were in public. Most
happened indoors, away from other witnesses. And as of yet
not one demand or issue has been brought up by the IYA
Society. In fact aside from shove thing in women's asses
the Society has done nothing."
"So they aren't terrorists, they're just perverts who
get off on attacking women and shoving things up
"Looks that way."
"Okay let's take a call, Maddy, you're on the air."
-Thanks Julie, I've got a question. If the IYA isn't
a terrorist organization what are they?-
"Good question, Ms. A?"
"If I had to label them, the closest thing I could
think of would be rape gang."
"So are they more or less dangerous than terrorists?"
"I'm not sure Julie. On the one hand they're less
predictable, they could be anyone. At least with terrorists
you get some sort of idea what their motivation is, you
might be able to figure something out. These guys, there's
nothing to work with except their name and that stupid
battle cry they shout."
-And the fact they like to shove stuff up women's
"Thank you Maddy. Ok next caller, Lynn, you're on the
-Thanks, is there any way to tell who's going to be
"Let me handle this Julie. From what I can tell
there's no way of telling. So far the only pattern that's
emerged is that every situation has been a little different. No
two victims were in similar scenarios when they were attacked."
"I think it's safe to say that until these are
caught no woman is going to feel safe."
"Maybe not even then. They call themselves a society,
for all we know these could spread like wildfire,
infecting person after person. In time we might even see
splinter groups, imitators, and riots."
-Scary thought. Good bye.-
"Bye Lynn. Now we have Chuck. Hello Chuck."
-Hi Julie, hi Wanda.-
"How the hell do you know my name?"
-You know, recognized the voice, post hypnotic
suggestion signs, that kind of thing.-
"Chuck was it? Who the hell are you?"
-Well Julie, long short, I'm part of the In
Your Ass Society. I just wanted to call and say how right
Wanda has been with her assumptions on us were. That is why
we don't attack men, that is why we aren't terrorists, that
is why we call ourselves a society. I can assure of you of
a few things though. There will be no splinter groups, no
riots, and definitely no copy cats. In fact if anyone does
try to copy us and publicly humiliates a woman in public we
will find them and kill them.-
"I don't understand why you're doing this Chuck."
-We've got our reasons Julie. Let's leave it at that.
And if you mean why I called the show, well I just wanted
to kill two birds with one stone. First of all I wanted to
deter any would be imitators against even trying to do what
we do. Every one in the Society is known to the inner
council and if we learn of an unauthorized attack we will
"You're organized then?"
-Tut, tut Julie, you're dominating the questions.
Doesn't Wanda have anything to say?-
"Y-you mentioned post hypnotic suggestion?"
-She speaks, and yes I did. You see Wanda the reason
you know so much about our little group is that we've
implanted some ideas into your head. It was a while back,
you wouldn't remember it. We knew you would get onto the
radio, it was just a matter of time when. We made sure
you gave us some signs when you got on the air, a cough
here, a sneeze there, a preprogrammed sentence everywhere.
But before I continue would you mind telling me what Julie
"She's and with blue eyes. She's about 35,
-Is she wearing glasses?-
-What is she wearing?-
"A pink dress, the kind with the little straps over
your shoulder and is made so you can't sit on the ground."
-Oh right, the one all the teenaged wear
nowadays, like a casual evening gown type of thing. Is that
"I guess. Close enough."
-Good, that's enough. Radio's supposed to be an
medium where you use your imagination, I think I've got
enough to make an image in my mind. Now Wanda, engage
"What's program Al..? Oh god, no!"
-Come on Wanda, it's not like you've got a choice,
it's been programmed into you.-
"Please no, I..."
"Wanda, what are you doing?"
-Well Julie, if her programming worked then she
should be picking up a broom handle that the Society has
left in the room.-
"What's she going to do with it?"
"Please! Don't make me do this."
-Long short, she's going to shove it up your
-Well we are the In Your Ass Society.-
-What was that? It's kind of hard to hear you. Are
you running to the door? Oh, sorry, we had them all locked
from the outside. You might as well accept it, Wanda's been
programmed to knock you out if she has to so she can shove
the broom handle up your ass. It's a bit long, I know, but
Wanda's going to rest the rest on a chair so you only have
to carry the part that's actually in your ass.-
-Now Julie, I'm sure it'll be easier for you if you
let Wanda just do it. I wouldn't know, never had anything
shoved up my ass, but if she has to knock you out we may
need to rely on some other nasty programs we've got in
her. I think one of them involves puncturing your lung.-
-What was that?-
-Good. Now press the front of your body against the
door. Then pull the hem of your dress up past your hips and
pull down your underwear so Wanda has a nice clear look at
that ass of yours. Is she doing it Wanda?-
-Can you see her ass?-
"Yes. Please stop this."
-No, don't think so. Okay Wanda, push the broom
handle into her ass.-
"I can't, it won't go in."
-Well then just shove the damn thing in there as hard
as you can.-
"No wait.. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!"
-How far up is it?-
"I don't know, maybe six inches."
"Oh god." Sob. "Unh, oh god." Sob.
-Okay, try to push it in a little more.-
Sob. "Unh! Nooo! No more! Oooh! Oww!" Sob.
"It won't go in any more."
-Shame. Okay get a chair and put it under the part of
the broom handle not in Julie's body.-
"Wait a minute. I think I have to let go of the broom
handle to reach the chair."
-Then do it.-
"Okay, one minute."
"Unh." Sob. "Unh....AAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!"
-What the hell was that?!-
"I'm not sure. She just screamed."
"Unh. B-broom. Moved inside of me."
-Oh, okay. The handle must have moved like a
see-saw inside of her when you let go. Ignore her screams,
just get the chair.-
"Unh. Ug AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA...huh huh
"Okay, the chair is under the broom handle."
-Good. How does she look?-
"Like she's connected to the end of the broom."
-Excellent. Tell me Wanda, what are you wearing,
skirt or pants?-
-Your ordeal isn't over yet. Engage program Beta.-
"Beta? Oh no. Please! Haven't I done enough?"
-Nope, consider this for on your
husband. Julie? You still with us.-
"Uuh. Please, stop it. Oh. Owww."
-Well as we speak Julie, beautiful Wanda is slipping
off her jeans and white cotton panties. Any second now
she's going to take the other half of the broom handle
shoved up your ass off the chair it's resting on and
position it at her own ass hole. Then she will move
backwards, pushing it as hard as she can into her ass. Of
course this will push the part in your ass even deeper.-
"No. No. No."
-Oh it'll be fine. Only a little worse than how it is
now. So Wanda will push herself backwards until the broom
handle is just as stuck in her ass as it is in yours. The
two of you will be connected by a broom handle.-
"No. No. No."
-"Whatever. You ready Wanda?"
"Please don't make me do this. Please."
"Please, no. Plea... Unh. MMN."
"No. No. Naaaaaaa..."
-Damn it Wanda, push harder!-
-I do this task in your ass!- Click.
June watched as yet another person in the audience
was frisked. Ever since the In Your Ass Society attacked an
X-games competition last year every sporting event in the
country had beefed up security. Apparently the Mills County
swim meet was no exception.
All around aged fourteen to eighteen
stretched in swim suits of various colors meant to
distinguish the different competing schools. June herself
was wearing a green suit. As June looked around her, watching
all the extremely healthy women, some of
them bouncing around as their large curves shook beneath
their tight swim suits, she could understand how this might
be a tempting target for the IYA Society.
June remembered that she herself was a possible
target and shivered. Her kept telling her that she
must always be careful. The short black hair that topped
her head framed her thin, angel-like face. And though her
breasts were small they were well proportioned to the rest
of her body. But she wasn't too worried, among the
crowd of gathered students she was lost amongst a sea of
beautiful faces and incredible bodies.
Even some of the coaches were pretty good looking.
But not all of them. A from Lahona High was
talking to her coach, an woman wearing running shorts,
polo shirt, and a wind breaker. It reminded June she had to
talk with her own coach, Mrs. Bayridge.
She walked over to her school's bench, allowing
herself the time to feel the concrete beneath her feet.
Like a lot of the other coaches Mrs. Bayridge was
wearing the swimsuit of her school's color underneath a
pair of shorts and a tank top. June guessed it was so the
coaches could dive into the water if there was need to help
an ailing swimmer or something else bad happened in the
"Oh good, June," Mrs. Bayridge said relieved. She was
in her late twenties, but with the right makeup she could
have passed for one of the student competitors. Her
shoulder length hair was pulled back in a ponytail
while a green cap with the Wilmington High Warrior logo
covered the top of her head.
"I'm not up now, am I?" asked June. She wasn't sure.
She shouldn't be, her event wasn't supposed to be for a
while, but they had been moving the schedules around pretty
haphazardly in the past few hours.
"Looks like it. They changed the schedule again.
You're set to in five minutes. Are you ready?"
"I suppose so."
"Good." Mrs. Bayridge's hand gripped June's
shoulders. An arm's length away, Mrs. Bayridge looked
straight at June. The was unable to meet the
intensity coming from her coach's eyes and let her gaze
lower to the whistle hanging by a string in front of Mrs.
Bayridge's tank top, resting over her large bosom.
The coach must have taken her swimmer's
inability to meet her gaze as momentary apprehension
because she took the child's slim face into her hand and
brought it to look at her own determined face.
"You are good enough to win this, so just go out
there and do your best."
Yes, June sighed, I guess I am. She got a cap from a
friend and tightened it onto her head. It fit snuggly,
covering her hair from the world. Then she snapped the goggles
over her eyes.
June went over to her diving platform. Other
had already made their way there. They were shaking their
muscles loose when a whistle blew. Carefully each ascended
onto a diving platform and got ready to swim the fifty
Each bent over into diving position. June looked
down into the clear water at the pool's bottom. It looked
calm. She imagined what it would be like to see a in
scuba gear waiting beneath the water.
Her mind began to wander, thinking about what it
would be like to be attacked by one of the IYA Society from
beneath the water.
The pistol going off. She dives and then moves her
arms and legs in a almost chaotic pattern trying to make
her way to the other side of the pool as fast as she can
against the waves created by so many trying to do the
Suddenly, from beneath the water, something grazes
her arm. She pays it no mind, continuing her swim. But her
body almost freezes when that same something grabs a hold
of her ankle. She stops her swimming, unable to break free
from the grip below her. She tries to pull away but is
unable to. Frantic now, she splashes wildly, crying for
help. To the audience her struggles are reminiscent of the
opening to "Jaws".
Whatever has gripped her hand pulls her body lower
into the water. She tries to look down, and through the
clear water she can make out what appears to be a scuba
diver. She can feel the diver's hand grip tighter on her
ankle and the other slowly move upward. It grabs at her
She screams and her hands move to protect herself.
Her body dips below the water and she is forced to bring
her hands back up in order to tread water. In the choice of
protecting her crotch or breathing she must reluctantly
The hand pulls away the swimsuit from her crotch,
moving the entire band covering the lower half of her body
to the side. The cold water crashes against her bare
and ass, sending a chill through her body. Her eyes are
closed, her body is tensed, she waits with fear and
anticipation at the violation of her body she senses is to
She is not disappointed. Her ass checks are spread
apart and something thin and metal is pressed against her
asshole. Tears begin to flow from her face, although with
the water which already covers it the tears are hard to
see. With a shove the metal pole fills her ass.
The grip on her ankle is released, she continues to
tread water. The scuba diver pushes against her feet
causing her legs to raise. The diver makes a grab for her
arm and pulls her down. She tries to struggle but the diver
is too strong. He holds onto her arms, forcing the front
side of her body to be submerged leaving the backside,
including her ass and the small pole in it, to stick out of
the water. She can feel the sudden coolness of air rushing
against her wet bottom contrast with the pain of having a
pole up her ass.
But the real pistol fired and she dived into the
water, her fantasy forgotten. She could think of nothing
but coordinating her body to swim at its peak ability. When
she reached the other side of the pool she stopped, and
pulled her head out of the water there were screams and
shouting. June turned in the water, searching for the cause
of the commotion.
Lying bent over the bench, her shorts around her
ankles, was Mrs. Bayridge. The swimsuit she wore underneath
her clothing had been cut away so that her entire lower
half was exposed. The string from the coach's whistle dangled
out of her asshole.
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