I read my comments

Welcome to 2017.   I have nothing new to talk about, except that I read through my whole blog today.   I'm actually kind of sad right now because it's been such a long time since I've done anything horrible worth writing about.  I also read the comments on my blog.  I never have before.  Some of it is spam, obviously, and other comments are invitations to Jesus, but some of the rest are just priceless.  I've been missing out!  I guess this is one benefit of having a blog online for a few years:

"Amazed to read your blog ..............Funeral programs to
memorial programs are gaining popularity because they provide
grievers with another way of memorializing"

"My 10 year old cousin read this story in front of his mother while he was eating."

"I...I don't want to live on this earth any longer."

"Beautiful and inspiring! I have played with roaches in cunt and ass many times! we seem to have common ground here!"

"I don't usually advocate this kind of thing, but in some cases 'chemical castration' or some other libido-killing drug might make a world of difference for you"

"I've been waiting for a girl like you. I want to insert those maggots inside of you."

"this just turned me asexual."

"I had scabies once, caught it from a kitten outside... Nasty little buggers that come alive at night and bite the shit out of you. Learned my lesson, don't pick up stray kittens."

"you sick fuck, try and get some fucking help."

"I really hope you and your kind die in a firebomb. Sad thing is.. I wouldn't even know if it did happen."

"I masturbated to this"

"how is being chinese worse than being a rapist?"

"This is why ISIS bombs people."

"Blowfly, i will fuck maggots with you if want to do it togehter. Any Time"

"I'm glad that you're doing well. Please don't do any more of these things they sound dangerous xx"

It's April 24, 2016. I posted something.

I started my Blowfly Girl blog here mostly because of the feedback I got when I shared that first experience I had with maggots.  I posted that first story first on my Geocities page (yes, that long ago).  So many people had things to say to me, whether curious, concerned, disgusted, or extremely erotic, that I wanted to keep posting whenever I did anything interesting.   That's where this blog came from.  I'm an extremely shy introverted girl who found a way to share my dark side.  Also, to be honest, just hearing from people who found my experiences erotic has been extremely erotic for me too. 

But It's been a long time.  Perhaps I've changed as I've gotten older.  Ironically, I fantasize now about doing things to myself that are more extreme than anything I ever did for real, but I've lost the courage (with exceptions) to actually do them.  And I wonder if people are interested in hearing anymore from an approaching-middle-aged woman instead of the nicely-plump, horny and pervy young girl I was who wrote that about that first experience.  I don't know, maybe I'm wrong.  I can be very self-conscious.  

Anyway, this blog isn't dead.  Not yet, anyway.  I'll continue posting depending on what my readers email me about.  I've learned that for sure that not many people are interested in my job, my dating fails, or my cat, though I'll happily complain about any of them upon request.

Don't comment here - spam has taken over.  Email me.

July 19 2015, not quite a milestone.

I almost had sex Friday night.  Many people I chat with know I haven't had sex since I was seventeen, and by sex I mean being intimate at all with another human being. Anyway it could have happened but it didn't, because of me.

He's exactly the kind of guy I'm attracted to.  Confident, sophisticated, well-groomed, and a gentleman.  Perfect guy, really.  There's no way he'll ever find my blog so I can say his name is Eli.  Eli works with artists to find NEA grants for their projects, which I think is cool, though I don't completely understand how that works.  Eli took me to dinner at a Mexican place in Oak Park called Maya Del Sol.  I was there once before with my dad and I liked it a lot.  And I liked it again this time.  I had fish tacos...pescados whatever.  Eli and I had great conversation.  He's sort of a nerd, talking about science stuff a lot, but I like that.  Eli told me about Pluto and the satellite thing going on right now.  I wish I knew more about that.

I should have invited Eli in when he drove me home, but I didn't.  I know it sounds stupid now but I became afraid of my own motives.

You know the metaphor of being laden down with emotional baggage.  Well I'm carrying something like 200 pounds of old bricks, each one the same, each one for a guy who had sex with me during high school, each brick earned to get attention.  I was a slut for attention.  It hurt me then when I understood what I was doing and that's why I completely stopped having sex.

I'm now twice the age I was when I stopped.  I should have let go of all that long ago, but I haven't.  Friday night was the first time I really had to confront those feelings, and I found them right where I'd left them.  So I didn't invite Eli in.  I didn't feel ready.  We didn't have sex though we both wanted to.  But I think we left it open.  I'm pretty sure he wants to see me again.  I hope so.  Is Eli someone I could get serious with?  I don't know.  I think I could want that.  Maybe.  I hope he's patient.  It's so complicated. 

As much as I'd like a partner, as much I like guys, as much as my biology still tells me I need a mate, I'm still satisfied wallowing in my horrible perversions.  I can still get out of breath, literally soak my panties when I fantasize.  I am not done with that.  I want more of it, for real, not just in fantasy.

My poor kitty Ben is looking at me suspiciously.  He was already an older cat when I adopted him.  Ben came with a lifetime of wisdom of watching humans so he can probably tell when I'm troubled.  Okay, he can definitely tell when I'm opening a can of tuna.  I hope he doesn't know what I think.

I know this is a different kind of post from me.  I hope it's better than nothing.  I've been working on a bottle of Merlot tonight and now I want to forget about Eli for the moment and pollute myself really bad.

Update

I've been asked a lot lately whether I'm going to post any new stories here.  The direct answer is that if I do anything worth writing about, I'll post.  It's been a very long time since I've had the urge bad enough to lose control, so it might not be soon.

Maybe I'm changing as I get older (I'll be 34 next month) or maybe this is just what happens naturally as time passes.  I don't know.  I'm definitely still me, and I do still think of perverse and horrible things to do to myself, just not as often anymore, and I don't follow through and actually do them. That may be for the best because lately my imagination drifts towards things that would be too dangerous to try.  The same kind of stuff, just more extreme.

Other things in my life have been changing too.  The practice I work for has grown and I'm now the office manager.  I'm working a normal 8-5 schedule for the first time ever and actually succeeding.  I replaced my car without help from my dad.  I've moved into a two bedroom apartment.  I have a big orange cat named Ben. 

And I have been on a couple of dates this summer, which might astound some people I chat with.  I don't know what I'm looking for yet, relationship, intimacy, friendship, but I do know that I'm definitely not looking for someone to share my perversions with.  That part I keep to myself.  Anyway, I'm happy that I've finally begun to interact socially with real people again.  Face to face.  That's an achievement for me. 

So that's what I've been up to lately.  It'll probably continue to be a long time between posts here.  I read my email regularly but I'm bad at replying.  Sometime I catch up, sometimes I wait too long on some messages and then it doesn't make sense to reply.  I don't mean to be rude.  It just happens.  If I get in the mood I'll chat on IRC though that hasn't happened in a while.  I find it easiest to chat with people who've already found this blog and know who Blowfly Girl is or have read my first maggot story in one of the hundreds of places it's been reposted.  In chatrooms when people don't know me I scare them away pretty quickly.  That gets old after a while. 

On the subject of emails, I do want to say thank you to everyone who has written just to say they enjoyed my stories or to compliment my writing.  I've been getting more of these recently and fewer propositions for sex or pleas for me to get psychiatric or spiritual help.  So, seriously, thank you. 

Work stuff, this might be a bore.

We've got Dragon Naturally Speaking Legal Edition now! 

My boss sat with me and showed me how to use it and it is amazing.  It's like creepy how well it understands my voice.  I'm a legal transcriptionist, it's my job, so you might think I ought to be worried about becoming obsolete but I do more than just take recorded dictation so no.  I've learned a lot about the kind of law this practice does and I've learned some real skills.  I do a lot of stuff, things a paralegal usually does.  I know probably I would still be valuable even if I never do any more transcribing.  I'd still be here.  We do mostly class action lawsuits.  I can't tell about any details about it because you might have seen our TV commercials depending on where you are (no, not the Mesothelioma cases).  But we really are getting more clients all the time.  Actually, being totally real, my boss is my dad's best buddy and that's how I got this job in the first place when I still had trouble showing up for work every day.  My boss and my dad play golf together.  When one of them buys a new tool, they both play with it and then the other one, either one, has to buy one too.  The same tool.  Every time.  And our families have been together for more than one Seder dinner.  You know, we're very close.  Since I was little.  So I am very grateful that my boss took the risk and gave me the opportunity to prove myself.  I don't think I am going to lose my job because of Dragon but who am I to assume?

...So that last paragraph was just random blabbering into this headset microphone just now.  I didn't edit it much because I realized how different it reads than how I write.  "Seeing" my speaking voice, I wonder if it changes how you think of me.  I'd like to know, if you feel like commenting.  Just curious.

So now I've put up a filth-free post.  I promise that won't become a habit.

I'm okay!

Thank you to everyone who sent me those kind messages.  It's nice to be reminded there are people who care.  But I really am okay.  I nearly deleted that last post right after I wrote it.  Now I'm glad I left it up.  It's the first time I put some of those feelings into words, even just for myself.  But those feelings aren't new.  They've always been there.  So I'm okay.

I had a funny dream a couple nights ago.  I was in the washroom of a fast food place sitting on the toilet.  I saw a roach run past me and go behind the toilet, which sort of gave me a creepy feeling.  I leaned over to see if I could find the roach and I ended up on my hands and knees next to the toilet.  There were a few roaches behind the toilet but they were dead.  I picked them up anyway, one by one, and reached between my legs to push them into my vagina.  I felt like I didn't want to do that but I couldn't help it.  I wanted to feel dirty. 

So, this being a dream, my pants are not around my knees anymore, they're suddenly just gone.  And I'm crawling on the washroom floor, because now there are roaches scurrying everywhere.  I catch one and stuff it inside me, and then another, another, another, and I'm getting upset because they're hard to catch and I need them all...

That was the whole dream.  I didn't get to cum or anything.  I've never had an orgasm when I dream.  Would I do that for real?  I don't know.  I've surprised myself before.

Down

This post isn't something that everyone will find stimulating.  I haven't written much because I've been troubled lately.  I've been thinking a lot about things that happened to me when I was younger.  Things that probably shaped me into the kind of person that does the things that I've written about on this blog.  It's really not good.

When I was young, I was damaged.  As a person.  Not physically damaged; I've done way more to hurt my body than anyone else ever did to me.  I mean me as the core of my being, the place where I think and feel from, where I separate me from the rest of the world.  That's where I'm damaged.  I'm the loaf of bread with a fuzzy oval of green mold on it.  I'm the pretty face with an unfortunate blemish.  Sure, she's nice, but there's something about her...  It's that kind of damage. 

Everyone tells me I'm beautiful in my individuality, but no, that's not realistic.  I am what I do, and I do what I've been conditioned to do.  I was made by my life's experiences, and there have been some particularly bad experiences.  I'm also a product of the defenses I've built up over time, many of which no longer make sense to me, but without them I wouldn't know how to interact with people anymore. 

I act out with my sexuality.  I find beauty in the world, so I seek the opposite.  Where flowers bloom, I'm attracted to dead leaves.  When butterflies sip nectar from the flowers, I seek worms.  But even these aren't good metaphors.  Better, when an animal squats to relieve itself of waste, I spread myself in invitation.  Go ahead and imagine that, and then imagine much, much darker.  In there, in that complete, corrupt darkness, somehow, I find my ecstasy. 

But I'm troubled now.  I wish for that ecstasy more strongly than ever, but as time has passed I've allowed fear to overcome my desire.  Fear of what?  Injury?  Death?  Discovery and humiliation?  I don't know.  I'm so fucked up I don't know what's natural to feel anymore.  I don't know who I am. 

Sorry to be a dark cloud today after not writing for so long, but I had to get that out.  I'll get better.  I promise I'll write something more fun next time.

Finally some fun!

It was just getting light out Monday morning when I started driving home from work. It was overcast and gray and wet and my mind was mostly on getting some sleep. But as I drove I also began thinking about how bored I was. I really have been bored.

On the spur of the moment I decided to go have some fun. No idea what, but it's been way too long since I've had any. I had all day. I got on the Eisenhower and started heading west. Traffic was already slow and I wondered if I'd made a mistake but soon I was on I88, which was clear. Randomly I exited at Rt59 by Aurora, kept driving, and started looking around for something interesting. All of a sudden I was at Fox Valley Mall. I hadn't been there in many years. There's a road that rings the parking lots outside the mall. I drove slowly along the road, circling the mall a couple times, hoping something would catch my eye and wondering what kind of fun I can make for myself outside a mall that isn't open yet.

There's a greek restaurant on the west side of the mall. It has it's own building and it's own parking lot. The lot was empty. I drove around the back of the restaurant and saw a wooden enclosure where they keep their dumpster. But it was a pretty big enclosure for just a dumpster. I stopped and got out of the car to take a look. Could be interesting.

There were four dumpsters in the enclosure. Two for oil and grease, one for garbage, and one for recyclables (they're labeled). I like dumpsters. This whole enclosure is filthy. Little bits of garbage are all over the asphalt pavement and on the wooden walls. There's a shovel, a gray plastic garbage can, a stack of bricks, some firewood in a shed on one side. I guessed that everything customers wouldn't want to see is kept in there.

I wanted to play in the garbage. I've known for a long time that I can't keep pretending that I've changed and I don't need to do horrible things to myself anymore. I had to do something to make myself feel real again, and this was the time.

So I turned off the car and pulled the big wooden doors shut so I was fully shielded from view. I was taking a risk not knowing how soon the restaurant's kitchen staff would arrive, but I figured I had at least an hour. I took a deep breath and pressed on my crotch through my jeans. I was getting wet just from the anticipation of whatever might happen.

I got undressed, dropping my clothes on top of the stack of bricks, which seemed like the one relatively clean spot inside the enclosure. I probably didn't need to be totally naked but I did it anyway. It was still chilly out and the wet asphalt felt cold under my bare feet.

The biggest dumpster, a blue one with two black plastic lids, caught my attention first. This was the one for regular garbage. I lifted one of the lids and looked inside and saw only black for a moment until my eyes adjusted. It was empty. The garbage men must have come during the night. Disappointed, I quietly closed the lid. There was a little black dirt on my hand. I smeared it across my breast just to feel dirty. Another, smaller, dumpster was for grease and had just one lid. There was whitish gray and light brown grease congealed all around the edge of the lid with little bits of probably old food caked in it. It looked so awful I leaned forward smear my boobs into the grease. It felt rough and uncomfortable at first against my sensitive nipples, but it was also slippery and smelled bad. I liked it having it on my boobs. I wondered what was inside the dumpster. Lifting the lid I found a plastic grid across the opening, I guess to keep large things from falling inside, and below that was dark. I couldn't tell how much grease was inside, but the grid itself was caked in the same brown and gray crust of congealed grease. But there was much more of it. It formed little grease icicles everywhere. It looked truly gross. I ran my fingers along part of the grid. Gobs of the grease came off in my hand. I squeezed, feeling it ooze between my fingers. It had a sharp, sour smell to it. So disgusting. I brought my hand down between my legs and pressed the grease against my vaginal lips. It felt so nasty but so good at the same time. Smearing the grease between the lips with my middle finger, I thought yeah, my poor pussy's waited so long to get what it deserves. Finally...finally, some abuse.

 The front of the grease dumpster was too close to the wall for me to stand directly in front of it, or I'd have gotten more of myself onto the grid. Instead I managed to cover most of the front of my body with grease and ended up leaning against the grease dumpster playing with my clit. I was incredibly horny for the first time in a long time. I wished that the garbage dumpster hadn't been empty. That's when I noticed that gray plastic garbage can again. It was worth a look.

It turned out to be the jackpot. The can was about half full of discarded food. I could see pieces of vegetables, meat, noodles, rice, peels, mussel shells, all sorts of stuff mixed together with wet used napkins and used straws. I could tell immediately that they scrape off people's plates into this can coming back to the kitchen. I was surprised at how much of it there was. And it smelled really bad. I wanted it.

I pushed the garbage can over, got on my hands and knees, and started pulling the mess of discarded food out onto the filthy pavement in front of the dumpsters. I think I'm right that this was scraped off people's plates, but there also seemed to be scraps from the kitchen too. The garbage a little deeper down is darker and more brown. I decided it must be older than what's on top, so that's what I want. I practically had my head in the can as I scooped out garbage from deep inside.

 I noticed myself breathing hard. I hadn't been this excited in a long time. I sat down right in middle of the mess, scooped up a handful of it and pressed it against my vagina. It felt cold and gross but I didn't care. At least some of it went inside me. I was really wet already but the grease helped it go in.

This is what I wanted, I thought to myself. Naked, sitting in a pile of garbage and masturbating with it. My heart is pounding and I feel alive. I can get so sick from this but that just makes me more excited. There's a beer bottle in the pile. I pulled it out and set it aside. Some grayish lumps of something. I think it's fat and I push it into my vagina along with wilted, mushy greens and some rice. They must serve a lot of rice because it's everywhere. A long black and silver strip of skin from a fish. It really smelled putrid. I pushed it inside me too. This is what my body is for, I think. This is what my vagina is for, making me feel like this. Why did I try to avoid it for so long?

 My vagina felt full but I wanted to keep going. I thought of pushing it all out and starting over but I noticed the beer bottle again. I picked up the bottle and rolled myself over onto my side. Holding the bottle by the neck with both hands I pushed the large end of it into me. I closed my legs and pushed hard on the bottle. It made me cum right right then, really hard, with the bottle working like a plunger pushing the garbage deeper inside me and spreading it around to make room for more. It felt so good.

I wasn't even done cumming when I sat back up and pulled the beer bottle out of me and went right back to stuffing my vagina. I noticed a brownish-gray wad of gristle someone had chewed and spit out onto their plate. Lucky for me, I thought. I shoved it inside me. I found an octopus tentacle, eggplant peels, olive pits, a chicken bone, a kleenex, shrimp tails. I pushed it all inside me until nothing else would go in. I used the beer bottle as a plunger again, and just like before I suddenly began to orgasm. This time I was cumming because I was so full it hurt. It hurt more when I pushed on the bottle. I needed to take as much garbage as I could inside my vagina so I kept pushing on it anyway. I caught myself growling through my teeth from the effort of pushing so hard.

I slowly pulled the bottle out when I'd finished cumming again, hoping the garbage wouldn't gush right back out. It didn't, so I tried pushing a few more bits inside me. I didn't even know what they were. But now I'd stuffed myself with as much stinking, disgusting garbage as would fit, and my vagina was stretched as far as it could go. I was wet and filthy all over and shivering from the cold. I stood up as carefully as I could so none of my garbage would come out of me, but there was no way I could put my clothes back on this way. I peeked out between the wooden doors to the enclosure. Seeing nobody, I grabbed my clothes and shuffled, bent over, back to my car as quickly as I could. My vagina ached so much I couldn't stand up straight. It felt like I had a huge heavy ball inside me. Inside the car I balled up my jeans and put them under my crotch so nothing could come out while I sat. Throwing on my hooded sweatshirt, I started the car and got away with the heater at full blast.

Getting from the car into my apartment was a struggle, but fortunately there wasn't much chance I'd be seen unless one of my neighbors stayed home from work or something. I went straight to my bedroom and pulled on three pairs of really tight panties. Nothing comes out of me when I wear them like that. So I sat down on my bed and felt the lump inside me. I loved how it felt. It's garbage and I deserve to have it in me. It's disgusting and perverse but at least I don't feel dead like I usually do, trying to stay normal.

 I wondered if I should keep it inside me, carrying the garbage around inside my vagina for a while. Maybe even for a couple days, even if it makes me sick. But no. Bad idea. Instead I took out one of my vibrators and played it against my clit while I pushed the whole mess out of me onto some paper towels. I got to cum again.

The garbage is now in a sealed plastic container under the sink. I think I'm going to let it rot for a while and then see what I want to do with it. I also need to have my car's interior cleaned.

I wasted a lot of time denying myself. It's been way more than a year since I did anything like this. I kept thinking that it was my depression that made me want to do things to myself, and that if I succumbed to the desire I'd end up backsliding again, losing my job and everything I've worked so hard for. I was, and I am really scared of that ever happening. But maybe I don't have to be dead inside all the time. I went to work last night, and everything is fine. Maybe I'm a depraved, filthy pig who can also hold a job.

Hacked again

My blog got hacked again. Hopefully this time I figured out how. The kid that's been doing it defaced my last post so badly that I just deleted it. It was full of horrible racist stuff. I found the rough draft of the post:

I’ve been employed full-time for a year now! I’ve never worked in the same place this long before. I’m proud of having gone this long without being fired or being yelled at for not showing up for work. I’m glad my parents aren’t so worried about me anymore. I’m amazed that I actually have something in a savings account.

But it’s not all good. I do feel my depression stalking me sometimes. It tries to pull me down, makes me want to stay in bed and hide from my life. It feels like darkness. It feels like a huge hole right behind me waiting for me to stumble. I fight against falling into that hole all the time.

The problem is, when I let go, fall, and hit bottom, I start feeling again. I start feeling like myself. At the bottom, I am nothing, I have nothing, and filth and waste and decay become all I deserve and all I am. That’s when bugs and garbage and dog shit do more than just disgust me and I end up doing something worth writing about here…especially if I lose control of myself. I miss feeling like that.

I still fantasize a lot about things I’ve done and would still like to do to myself. But new ideas - really good, nasty, filthy ideas - don’t come. I used be able to find really perverted porn stories and draw ideas from them, but I’ve seen nothing new in a long time. Maybe I just don’t know where to look.

Checking in

Just thought I'd write here a little bit - the emails asking if I'm still around have begun, which makes me feel a little guilty. I'm still here, I'm still okay, and still employed - amazingly enough.

I'm actually thinking of going back to school to become a paralegal. It's not something I'm especially interested in, but I think it might be a smart thing to do. I do work in a law office, after all.

I had an awkward moment during a visit to the gyne. I have a new doctor now because of different insurance and I went for my first annual last week. While she was examining me, looking inside me, she was like, hey, what happened to you? So I told her about having had toxic shock syndrome, but not without my face also flushing red. She asked me how I got it. I mumbled something about a bacterial infection, trying to deliberately sound stupid. I could tell by her expression that she thought I was being evasive, and she kind of stopped asking.

But she did tell me one thing that I didn't know before. I already knew that I am basically sterile, unable to get pregnant, but I've never known exactly why. She explained that it was because of scar tissue. There's apparently a lot of scarring in my vagina and especially on my cervix. Interesting to know. I'd always wondered. I guess I'm glad the scarring doesn't get in the way of having fun. It might have been sort of cool to have had some scarring on the outside where it would be visible. Then it would be kind of like a "medal of honor" for having managed to mutilate myself a little bit.

New Job

I’m back working in the law office now! I quit Target. That’s the first time I ever left a job without being fired. How depressing is that? The attorney that I'm working for, the one who asked me to come back, is actually a friend of my dad's going back to when I was little. I'm suspicious that he was doing my dad a favor by asking me to come back. It would explain why he's also agreed to put me on the health insurance plan the rest of the office staff is on...yeah! Anyway, this is the best job I've ever had and I'm grateful to have a second chance at it.

I don’t mean to disappoint, but I’ve been kind of a clean girl lately. Probably just haven’t been depressed enough since I started the new job. I cleaned up the apartment a little bit, enough to realize I had an ant problem last summer but didn’t notice. I separated out the empty pizza boxes from the stacks of magazines, too. I even put makeup on for the first time in ages. No reason, just felt good to do it.

Anybody who’s reading this has probably already done it, but I Googled “blowfly_girl” recently. I had no idea how much attention the stuff I’ve written has gotten. Looks like the consensus is that I must be sick in the head. Well, duh! What’s funny are blog comments and forums where people shock each other by posting links to my stories.

I’m not going to betray any confidences, but I think it’s worth mentioning that I’ve been exchanging emails with someone who has had an experience with maggots similar to mine. She got the idea from reading about what I did. I’m pretty sure she’s sincere. She knows way too much about what maggots do when you mess around with them, and how they feel on your body. Either that or she studies insects for a living and she’s just playing with me.

I’m not sure how I feel about having inspired someone to do that to themselves.

Dilemma

I’ve been asked to come back to a job that I got fired from a couple years ago, can you believe it? It was the perfect job, too. I was doing transcription and office work for an attorney who paid me really well and let me work in the office alone if I wanted. I set my own hours and usually worked overnight. But now I have a dilemma. I’m not sure if I can take the job back.

The reason is sort of because of an email I got a couple of weeks ago from a woman who said, “Your stories got me hotter than anything I have ever read,” and gave me a link to a story for me to read. It’s called “Julie’s Slide into Depravity”. Well, I knew about that one already. It’s one of my all-time favorite porn stories, although it’s a lot more violent than I like, and the author made Julie way too young. Even so, there’s a part of the story with maggots, and it ended up being was one of the things that made me start thinking about maggots myself. Anyway, the email reminded me about the “Julie” story and I ended up reading it again.

There’s another part of the story where Julie is forced to pick up piles of dog shit off the ground and stuff them into her vagina. Since I’m a sick, perverted pig, I find that idea extremely erotic, and I’ve had experiences with dog shit too. But I was thinking about the story while I was in the city Wednesday last week dropping off a costume I made a long time ago for a co-worker who’s doing community theater. After I left her place, I got a little lost and ended up driving through an alley to turn around. I saw a whole bunch of dog turds scattered along the base of a building and around a garbage dumpster. So, of course, I couldn’t help myself. I drove around the block and came back to the alley, found a plastic Jewel bag in the dumpster, and collected all of the dog shit in the bag.

I have difficulty controlling myself sometimes when I get really horny, no surprise. I found a dark area to park the car in a viaduct under the Ravenswood ‘L’ tracks, pulled my jeans down, and started pushing dog shit into my vagina. It smelled horrible. The turds were all different sizes and colors so it was probably from different dogs. Some of it was kind of messy and some was all hard and dried up, but I kept putting more and more shit inside me. I didn’t stop until it hurt. It made me cum really hard. My tummy was quivering after the orgasm. Then I put my pants back on and drove home. I carried the shit around in my vagina, constantly horny, humping the furniture and fingering myself to orgasm on and off until Thursday afternoon, when I needed to end my depraved little dog shit adventure, clean up, and go to work.

By this past weekend I had a really itchy rash between my legs and discharge from my vagina, and it felt like it was getting worse and worse until finally, on Monday, once I’d already scratched my crotch raw, I realized that I had a ton of tiny little white worms inside and all around my vagina. Again, because I’m a sick, perverted pig, that made me immediately horny all over again and I had to make myself cum despite the itching, before I went to the ER Monday night to get seen.

The doctor who looked at me said I had pinworms. He said that it’s rare to get a vaginal infestation of pinworms, but he’d seen it before. Of course, I pretended to be totally baffled how they got there as I was picturing a bunch of diseased, stray dogs shitting in an alley. He gave me a prescription for something called Vermox to get rid of the worms and Benadryl for the itching, and today I’m almost back to normal. A few scabby spots from all the scratching.

So anyway, the point of telling the story is that this was the second time in four months that I’ve gone to the ER (last time was for scabies). My insurance through work is covering both visits almost completely. Knowing me, I’ll be back there again. And that’s my dilemma. My current job is paying me $10.50/hr to stock shelves at night and I have health benefits. The hours suck, the work sucks, the pay sucks, but if I go back to my old job I’ll lose my insurance. I don’t know what I’m going to do yet.

30

I’ll be turning 30 this month. I guess that’s supposed to be a milestone, but I’m pretty sure nobody’s planning a surprise party for me or anything. I can’t think of anybody in my life who’d want to do that. It’s my own fault for being such a loner. I don’t mind turning 30. When I was younger I had expectations about what my life would be like at 30. I was way off the mark. I thought that I’d be working professionally as a costume designer for theater and movies, living in a trendy loft condo somewhere in Lincoln Park or something, surrounded by smart, sophisticated friends. Well, none of that has materialized yet!

Considering my history of not being able to hold a job for very long, I guess I should feel lucky that I’m employed at all right now, especially with the bad economy and everything. I have my own apartment and I have a car to drive, though I am still “heavily subsidized” by my parents, as my dad says. They don’t mind. I’m sure they’re very relieved that I’ve been emotionally stable.

I guess I should set a goal to actually do something useful for myself this year. Do something besides slowly destroying myself through my perversion for filth. I mean, so far what have I done? I nearly killed myself six years ago having sex with blowfly maggots, wrote about it on my old Geocities page, and the story became mildly infamous as one of the most disgusting stories on the Internet. My gynecologist says she can tell that I’m unable to get pregnant anymore. At least I’m well on my way to destroying myself. It’s an achievement.

Seriously, though, I have to mention that I’ve read comments on my blog and gotten emails from people wishing me well and hoping I will seek help. If you’re one of them, thank you for being concerned. Really, sincerely. You sound like nice compassionate people. But I’m okay. While I was growing up, my parents made me go to counseling, see psychiatrists, take antidepressants, all sorts of stuff. I’m happier without any help. And I’m only a danger to myself a very small percentage of the time. There’s a lot more to my life that I don’t discuss on my blog that if you knew about, you’d see I’m pretty normal.

Dead Deer - second maggot story

A few of my old contacts have emailed me asking if I would post the story of my second encounter with maggots. It’s been about two years since it happened and I had written about it the next day on my Multiply page. Unfortunately Multiply deleted that page. I lost the story and everything. I hadn’t kept a copy because I did everything from a computer at work. It’s all gone.

A lot of detail fades over time, but I tried my best to re-write the experience. Once I got started some of it came back to me and I ended up really enjoying it. I’m glad I took the time. Hopefully I haven’t misremembered anything important.

It happened on a Sunday afternoon while I was driving back home from Milwaukee. I can’t remember now whether it was the weekend of Summerfest or Labor Day, but it was one of the two. As I mentioned, the following Monday night I wrote the whole thing out at work and uploaded it to my Multiply page. I even got brave and took some pictures before my hands got too dirty. I uploaded a couple of those to the page too – only the ones that I felt safe showing. Not a lot of me in them…not a lot of my flabby, disgusting, pale body in them, actually. I really wish I had even those few back. Multiply didn’t respond to my email when I asked.

Anyway, I was driving home on some other highway besides I94 because I expected there would probably be a traffic jam after the state line. The weather was hot, humid, and sunny. I wish I remember what road it was, but I don’t anymore. I haven’t been back.

I noticed a smell. A really bad smell. I knew it was the smell of something decaying. The smell got stronger then faded away as I drove, but it kind of stuck in my nose. It stuck with me enough to get my imagination going, and after a few seconds I made the mental connection between the odor, a dead animal, maggots, and all of a sudden I was looking for a spot to turn the car around. It was a stupid thing to do, I knew, but I didn’t have anything specific in mind. Just the idea that there might be something putrid and interesting to see.

I remember stopping on the shoulder of the highway at the point where the odor seemed strongest and felt kind of disappointed in myself. I’d been a good girl for a long time, ever since I recovered from my dumpster “adventure” with maggots that put me in the hospital, but now I was not feeling very much like a good girl.

But my imagination was getting ahead of me. At that point I still didn’t know where the rotting smell was coming from. There was a ditch and a grass embankment along either side of the highway, a few patches of trees, and cornfields. I knew from how strong the odor was that it had to be something nearby, but as I got out of my car I wondered how I would find it. I was clever enough to notice the direction of the warm breeze, so knew I needed to be on the other side of the highway.

I remember I was wearing a white hippie-like sundress with yellow and pink flowers on it, and a pair of sandals. I knew the sandals weren’t ideal for poking around in the tall grass, but I figured I wasn’t going to try too hard anyway. Crossing the highway, I knew I shouldn’t be doing this, but I was letting my darker side drag me along, pretending I couldn’t help it. I wanted to convince myself that I was just curious, but I was getting horny just imagining what I might find. I looked all around me as I walked along the shoulder of the highway, trying not to miss anything hidden under bushes and stuff.

For a few minutes, I tried to be sensible and forced myself to just go back to my car and forget about it. I wanted to be good. I really did. I marched myself back across the highway. On the other hand, I thought, well, maybe it wasn’t so bad just to look. Standing by the car, I figured I’d walked away once now, I could do it again. I noticed the canvas bag I left in my back seat which had my beach stuff and my little camera in it. Maybe I could just take some pictures of whatever I found. I grabbed the bag and crossed the highway again to keep looking.

After a few minutes of searching it was pretty obvious to me that the smell wasn’t coming from anything along the embankment. There was only one area left to search, and there I found what I hoped I find…what I was afraid I’d find. At the corner of one of the cornfields there was an old billboard, behind which was a patch of trees and bushes. The trees hid a shaded, kind of secluded area right behind the billboard. Pushing past the bushes I found, lying in the dirt, the decomposing body of a deer. The smell was almost more than I could handle at first but I had to stop and stare. I have no idea whether it was a male or female. Any difference had already been consumed by decay and…maggots. I thought, oh, no.

The fur of the deer and begun to come off in places, especially around the head, revealing the skin underneath which had a greasy-looking texture, mostly black but with splotches of gray, brown, and greenish-gray. The deer’s belly had split open almost the entire length from its chest all the way down between its hind legs. The deer was lying sort of on its side, so that its right legs were sticking up in the air and its left legs were on the ground. I guessed that the deer might have been killed or died, and the farmer just dragged the carcass to a spot where it could rot away.

The open belly of the deer was a huge mass of maggots. There had to be thousands of them, grayish-brown maggots writhing and churning and filling every part of the open belly. Maggots even covered part of the ground on the side the deer leaned toward, probably consuming whatever fluids that were oozing from the body. Little black beetles crawled among the maggots and dozens of flies buzzed around the carcass.

I set my bag down and stood staring at the carcass, completely mesmerized. I felt myself beginning to feel really horny again. This had to be one of the most disgusting, nauseating things I had ever seen. I want this, I thought. I want to be its whore, because I’m a depraved, filthy pig and this is what I deserve. I have no choice. These are the thoughts I’m having while I continue to stand there with my mouth hanging open. My dress is suddenly hiked up and one hand is in my panties.

Stop now, I tell myself, just take some pictures and leave. I want to take some really close pictures of the maggots, but I’m afraid to kneel down because of my dress. Of course I can’t be wearing the dress, I thought, it’ll get dirty…and now I had my excuse to remove it. Within a few moments I had taken all of my clothes off. The sundress and my underwear were draped over the branches of a large bush. I laid my beach blanket on the ground next to the deer. It felt so, so, erotic to me to be nude, outdoors, so near to this nauseating, stinking carcass. Flies landed on my skin. It felt like they were inviting me.

I took a bunch of pictures of the deer and the maggots, some really close up. I took the remote off my camera, set the camera down on one part of the frame of the billboard, and took more pictures that showed some of me in them near the maggots. I even took one where I was touching the maggots with my finger. It felt warm, but I was still really grossed out by it. I hadn’t even seen a maggot since my last experience.

A car went by on the highway. It startled me…but not for very long. I was feeling pretty secure now in my little hiding place with my new friend. The secluded area was almost disturbingly perfect.

Even though I was pretending to be in control of myself, I kind of knew, from the moment I’d found the deer, that I was going to do something stupid.

I stood up and stepped over the carcass with one leg. Staring down into the seething mass of maggots I felt like such a worthless, perverted piece of shit to be aroused by the sight. But I was so aroused. I was soaking wet. There was no way I could control what I did now. I had to feel them again. I needed it.

I squatted down above the carcass, feeling one of the deer’s hind legs against my lower back. Forcing back the urge to gag again, I removed my fingers from my vagina and sank them into the thick mass of maggots in front of me. I could feel the heat below the surface of the mass as they squirmed around my fingers. I stopped for a moment to think about what I was doing, but like an addict, I couldn’t stop myself. I really tried. Sort of.

Naked with a decomposing animal carcass, staring at the writhing, disgusting maggots, I felt like I’d never been so horny in all my life. I lifted my hand out of the maggot mass and held it in front of my face, looking at all of the maggots that clung to my skin. I felt my stomach rising into my throat and barely avoided gagging once again. Instead I slowly brought my hand down between my legs and pressed my maggot-covered fingers between my vaginal lips.

No, no…I whispered to myself, beginning to weep a little. My eyes were tearing up. How could I do this to myself again? I’m not a human being, I thought. I’m lower than a pig. I’m not even an animal. I’m garbage. I’m waste. My heart was pounding and I could feel maggots squirming between my fingers and my pussy and it’s disgusting and it feels so good.

And then I had a sudden realization that I had no idea what kind of maggots these were. They might not eat just dead tissue, like blowfly maggots. The thought made my clit pulse hard against my hand. Oh no, I thought, dropping onto my knees so I was kneeling just above the carcass with my legs spread wide apart. These maggots, they might bite me. They might burrow into me, infest me for real. I felt so much need right then. I scooped up a handful of maggots in my shaking hand and pressed them against, and into, my vagina. I began to orgasm. I felt so good and so disgusting at the same time. I didn’t want to stop so I shoveled another handful of maggots into my vagina, then another, and another.

I plunged my hand back into the maggot mass, deeper this time, grabbing and tugging at the decaying, partially liquefied guts beneath. No longer covered by the maggots, the odor of the decay was so strong it forced me to drop the unidentifiable glob of entrails I held in my hand. But I should have that inside me too, I thought. It’s what I need…what I deserve. I picked the repulsive piece of deer guts back up and pushed it entirely into my vagina, crushing and pushing aside numerous maggots. I was panting now, feeling drunk with arousal. There was no stopping myself now, I knew, as I allowed myself to sink my fat flabby ass down into the carcass, burying my pussy in maggots and decay. I could feel both solid and soft things beneath me along with the constant wriggling of thousands of maggots. I began to hump my pussy against something firm, whatever it was, buried deep under the maggots.

I felt like I was out of my mind, now totally reveling in the horror of what I was doing to myself, grinding my hips and thrusting my infested cunt into the carcass as hard as I could.

Maggots were oozing out of my vagina as I thrashed about. I did my best with shaking hands to cram them back inside. I clutched at anything beneath me, maggots, guts, even some of the little black beetles, anything to pollute myself inside even worse. I kept humping and humping against the carcass, unable to stop even if I’d wanted to.

A new, strong orgasm overcame me, making my head spin. As I climaxed, I let myself slowly fall forward, my tummy coming down to lie on the open belly of the carcass. With my fat ass still humping uncontrollably against the rotting guts, I realized my face was now close to the deer’s head. With my finger, I gently poked at the maggots infesting the deer’s eye socket, watching them writhe as my orgasm faded.

And then I surprised myself. I usually feel really bad after I’ve done something sick and perverse, kind of a mix of defeat, guilt, disgust, disappointment. This time I didn’t. I felt filthy, but still very erotically filthy. I was at the bottom. I’d become the repulsiveness I was getting off on. Reluctantly lifting myself off of the deer carcass, I sat for a few minutes catching my breath, feeling both the exhausted throbbing between my legs and the crawling of the little beasts still clinging to my skin.

I wiped off my hands on my beach towel and picked up the camera remote. I took a couple pictures of myself with my boobs, my belly, my crotch and my thighs completely smeared with disgusting slime, bits of decayed deer guts, and lots of maggots.

I could still feel maggots moving in my vagina, too. As violent as I’d been, I hadn’t killed them all. Infested inside and out, I didn’t want the feeling to go away. Moving as carefully as I could to keep from squeezing anything out of my vagina, I got dressed without removing any of the filth on me.

I drove the rest of the way home with my beach towel covering the driver’s seat. I had my fingers in my panties several times, playing with my clit and feeling the tiny monsters that continued to squirm between my legs. I didn’t cum at all, but I stayed close to it.

Incredibly, I never became sick or had any infection from the experience, maybe because I got in the bathtub and cleaned myself really well as soon as I was home. My sundress, bra, panties, and beach towel all went in the trash. No big loss. What I really miss is the pictures I took.

Depression

I have a really difficult time at the holidays. For some reason my depression gets worse this time of year. It happens to a lot of people, I guess. My problem when I feel depressed is that I don’t ever get out of bed unless I have to go to work. When I spend too much time sleeping, I start having really vivid dreams. Not all nice dreams, either.

I had my usual dream of being back in high school and suddenly not knowing where my locker is or what classroom I’m supposed to be in. I usually don’t need the holiday season for that theme but I got it anyway. I also had my locked-out-of-my-parents’-house dream, and the inevitable being raped by my cousin dream again. All my “favorites”.

This year, though, I got some new ones. Maggot dreams, no surprise. I can feel them churning and tickling inside me, but I’m at work. And I’m suddenly worried about somebody noticing the smell, so I squeeze my thighs together really tight. But I can feel that it pushed some out into my underwear. I realize that I’ve got to get rid of them. It’s one of those bizarre situations where I know I must have put them there but I can’t remember having done it – which is okay when you’re dreaming, right? So I pull my waistband out to look and I see that they’re not just between my legs, they’re everywhere under my clothes. I’m nauseated. It’s disgusting. I don’t want to touch them, but I try to pick them off of me. They don’t come off. They just slip through my fingers. I try not to panic. And I suppose it goes on from there, but I’m forgetting it already.

Now that I’ve written that down, it sounds kinda sexy, doesn’t it?

The other new dream wasn’t quite as intense. There’s maggots again, but this time I’m in the produce section at the supermarket near where I live. It’s a Jewel. I notice that among the cucumbers, zucchinis, carrots – you know, all the phallic shaped ones, but also some that aren’t - there are a few that have maggots on them. I picked up a tomato that had maggots crawling on it and broke it open. It was absolutely seething with them inside. I wondered for a moment how they could let them get this rotten, but I forgot about that and started putting all the rotten ones I could find into produce bags and rushed to the checkout. And then, all of a sudden, I’ve paid already and I’m pushing my cart toward the door (I suddenly have a cart now), and a woman who looks slightly familiar is warning me “Don’t, don’t…they bite…they’ll hurt you.” But that just makes me want them more and I get weak in the knees. I can’t wait to get home. It’s a dream, so of course, I never get there.

I masturbated when I woke up from that one.

Maggot Story

Here is my maggot story. The one I didn't lose, anyway. I wrote this about two weeks after my first experience with maggots, about five years ago. I didn't realize people would ask me to repost it so soon! Hope you enjoy it.

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Sunday was warm and sunny, just how I always fantasized it would be when I finally went through with it. I stared walking to the dumpster again, I think about 2pm, and I was really excited and nervous. I felt butterflies in my tummy, just anticipating what I was about to do.

The dumpster is in the alley behind a restaurant near my house. It gets emptied on Tuesdays, so by Sunday it's pretty stinky and there are flies buzzing around. Which means there are things rotting inside there and that's just perfect for me. A few times in the past I climbed into that dumpster and masturbated. Nothing too intense. Most I'd ever done was take off my pants and hump against the dirty garbage bags. And one time I laid there with my legs spread, watching the flies land on me.

So anyway, I walked down the alley to the dumpster, and as usual I made sure nobody was around, just to be extra careful. You have to go behind a tall wooden fence to even see the dumpster, and the restaurant is closed on Sunday anyway, so I knew I wouldn't be noticed. But this time there's no way I want to be disturbed. I climbed up and over the side and onto my hands and knees into the mass of plastic garbage bags and other miscellaneous rubbish. The bags felt warm from the sun. The smell in there was extremely foul, much worse than usual, and I knew it was because of my rotting meat. I sat and tried to get myself to relax for a few minutes. There was no reason to hurry. When I was ready, I calmly took off my sandals, my jeans, and my panties. Both pairs. I was wearing two pairs of tight panties with a bunch of my panty liners in the crotch, which keeps anything in my vagina from coming out when I move around. But I was going "all the way" this time, so I went ahead and got completely naked. That was a weird feeling, being totally nude inside the dumpster. It seemed very erotic to me. The sun felt warm on my skin, especially my boobs, which pretty much never see the sun.

I took a pair of rubber kitchen gloves out of my pants pocket and put them on. There was no way I could bring myself to actually touch a maggot with my bare hands. Lying with my back against the side of the dumpster, I fingered my pussy. I was really wet already. I knew I would be. The sensation of the rubber glove against my clit felt unusual, and I kind of liked it. I did that for a little while, just thinking about what I was about to do, while staring at the smaller garbage bag in the far corner of the dumpster where I'd left it yesterday. I still felt the butterflies in my tummy. I kept thinking to myself that I can't wimp out, that I had to go through with this. I wished for a moment that someone else was there to force me to do it, but decided that it was somehow much more sick and depraved to do it to myself willingly. And I thought, yeah, that's me. That's what I want. I deserve this. And so I knew it was time to do it

I got back on my hands and knees and crawled to the other side of the dumpster. I sat down next to my garbage bag, gently picked it up and placed it in front of me. The terrible smell was already stronger. Carefully, I tore the bag open. And there they were. There had to be thousands of maggots, kind of beige-yellow with little black spots on them, all writhing in a large mass. I couldn't even see the rotting meat underneath them. Dozens more maggots clung to the inside of the black plastic, which was coated with a thick light-brown slime. It was such a repulsive sight I thought I was going to throw up right there. But I didn't. I took a few minutes to get control of myself, fingering my clit while staring at the maggots, trying to work up the courage to continue.

I scooped up some of the slime on my gloved finger and brought it to my nose. I knew what it was from the reading I'd done before. It was digestive juices from the maggots, full of bacteria. And it smelled just horrible. I thought to myself, that's what I'm going to smell like. That's the stench that's going to come from my vagina. I want that, I thought, spreading my legs wide apart. I dragged my slimy finger between my pussy lips. My clit felt like a hard little pebble beneath the slime. I didn't want to cum right then, though, and I was still right on the edge of gagging, too. But I knew there was no turning back now, so I let my fingers lightly touch the top of the maggot mass. The maggots felt like nothing I'd experienced before. They seemed to have such energy, totally different from picking up an earthworm or something. And they felt so alive. I was fascinated and nauseated at the same time. Sinking my fingers into the mass, I felt the solid meat beneath. Gently breaking it apart, I could see that the meat had turned gray except for the very center which was still pink, and that the maggots had penetrated into it but not too deeply yet. There was still plenty of food for my filthy little babies. I broke off a small chunk of meat that was covered on one side with maggots and held it for a moment while I fought back another urge to vomit. It was finally time, I thought. I leaned forward, and holding my pussy lips apart with one hand, I gritted my teeth and pushed the maggot-covered chunk of meat into my vagina. And then, totally without expecting it, I had an orgasm. A quick, sharp one that only made me want more.

And more was coming. I broke off another small chunk of meat, along with another part of the maggot mass and pushed it inside me. This one had more maggots on it, and I stopped for a moment to see if I could feel them inside me. I wasn't sure I could, but it didn't matter. I wanted them all. I needed to take them all inside me. With that thought, I went sort of wild. I started pushing bigger chunks of meat and maggots, and even handfuls of just maggots into me, over and over. I was practically hyperventilating, too. I wasn't thinking at all about the noise I must have been making. But now I could definitely feel the maggots squirming inside my vagina. Just the idea of it made me cum again.

Finally, once I had crammed all of the rotten meat, and all of the maggots I could inside me, I felt so filthy, so disgusting, like I'd turned myself into some low, depraved sort of beast. And that made me so incredibly hot, together with the constant movement of the maggots inside me. But it was time to go. Holding my hand over my crotch, I slowly crawled back to my clothes and managed to get dressed again without anything coming out. I put the gloves back into my pocket and climbed out of the dumpster. And right then I could hold back the revulsion of what I'd just done no longer. Holding myself up against the side of the dumpster, I threw up. Ever vomited while you were horny? It's weird.

Walking home down the alley, I felt like I was in a daze. I kept asking myself how I could have done this to myself, but then asking why I'd waited so long. I had to walk slowly to make sure nothing got squeezed out of my vagina, but also to keep from cumming again. I found myself amazed at the whole thing, that I'd stuffed the most intimate part of myself with these things that were too disgusting to even touch without gloves. And that I was totally getting off on it.

Once I was home, I locked myself in my bedroom, took off my clothes, except for my double-panties, and got into bed. I closed my eyes and just let myself feel the maggots squirming inside me. For a while I tried to watch TV, but I could really pay attention to it. The maggots were too wonderfully distracting. I skipped dinner. Later on, when I really had to pee, I did it by taking down my panties and holding my hand over my crotch, wearing the rubber gloves, of course.

The next morning I called off of work after being awake most of the night. I mainly stayed naked in my bed all day masturbating, barely getting up for anything. I wanted to do nothing but let my nauseating little babies grow inside my pussy. Pretty early, though, I realized the smell was getting really horrible. I opened the window. I also wet a bath towel and stuffed it under my bedroom door. I didn't want my parents to get suspicious.

A little later on I realized that I didn't need the panties to hold the maggots and the meat inside me. The mass pretty much stayed in place as long as I laid kind of still. I thought hey, I guess that means I'm infested, which made me cum again. I was always right on the edge of orgasm, and it didn't take much to go over the edge. I also noticed that the maggots seemed to be more active if I kept my legs apart and realized that they probably needed to breathe. So that's how I stayed a lot of the time. I did get up and read my email and posted an update on my web page but I couldn't seem to think clearly enough to write much. Then I had to pee again, but I just didn't want to get up. So I just peed in the bed. It made me cum. I just wanted to keep feeling the maggots moving. And they were. They seemed even stronger, in anything. I was totally in heaven with it. I didn't eat at all, either.

I heard my parents come home from work. During the evening my mom said hello through the door and wondered why I was staying in my room like a hermit. I said I was reading a novel all the way through at once, which I actually do sometimes. She left me alone. I hoped she didn't smell anything. I surfed the Web for a while that night and looked at porn. I came a few more times. I decided to go ahead and take a shit in my bed, right where I was. That just made me more turned on and I ended up smearing some of my shit over my thighs and my pussy and cumming again. I noticed that the maggots started coming out a bit. Maybe they liked the shit. A couple tmes one would creep up on my belly. I'd just flick it back down between my legs.

I was getting tired at that point. It really was time to sleep and my vagina was throbbing and kind of sore from all of the attention. But I was most worried about making sure my maggots could breathe while I was sleeping. Somehow, I managed to find the energy to place a chair on either side of my bed and use sheets to tie my ankles to them. That would keep my legs apart during the night. I pulled the blankets over myself and dozed off lying in my piss and shit.

For the most part I slept through the night, but I kept waking up sweating, with my vagina throbbing worse. I knew I was getting a bad infection from this, but I didn't care. I was not thinking right. I could also feel maggots crawling all over me. I guess I decided I liked that and I'd play with my clit until I came again. I don't know if I realized at the time that I wasn't wearing the rubber gloves anymore. I'd fall back to sleep and wake up again later with little phrases running through my head. Other girls have babies but I give birth to decay and filth, I'd keep thinking to myself. Or I'd say I'm probably ruining my womb and I don't care, I want to be ruined. I know I must have been hallucinating from the infection. I was hoping the maggots had given up on the rotten meat and were eating my vagina instead. My fingers were buried inside my vagina, with my fingertips against part of the meat. Whenever I pressed on it, the maggots would squirm faster and I'd climax again. I could do it over and over and keep cumming.

Finally it was Tuesday morning and sunlight made me wake up. I knew I was really, really sick at that point. I felt weak and dizzy, I knew I had a fever, and now my whole lower belly was sore and throbbing. Despite all that I was still horny and I was still right on the edge of cumming. And then for some reason, all I wanted to do was see my maggots.

I pulled the blankets aside and saw that I really did have maggots crawling all over my body. I was so whacked out I loved it. But I also saw that I had a rash spreading over my tummy and my thighs, and I was soaked with sweat. And then suddenly I needed to see what it looked like between my legs. I sat up a little, picked up the hand mirror I have on the table next to my bed, and held it between my thighs.

My pussy was totally gaped wide open. I'd never seen it like that before. It reminded me of a mouth in a sick, gagging expression. My inner lips were swollen and dark purple, almost black, while my outer lips were cherry red and I was losing a layer of dead skin, like a sunburn. A stream of the light brown slime was oozing from inside my vagina and down my butt crack onto the shitty mattress. Although I could still feel a large mass of maggots and rotten meat inside me, there were maggots everywhere between my legs. Hundreds of them.

And then I saw my fingers on my pussy. They plunged deep into my vagina and dragged out a wad of slime and maggots, which I pressed hard against my clit. I remember having a huge orgasm right then, and I must have passed out. I think I was sobbing too, but I'm not sure.

That's all I remember until I woke up in the hospital.

Here I am.

It’s been a really long time since I posted anything. I lost my job several months ago, and about the same time Multiply killed my profile there. That’s where had I moved all of my pics and blog entries to, so it’s all gone. The only other place my pics were saved was on a PC at work. So anyway I was really unhappy and just didn’t feel like communicating publicly anymore. Maybe I’m ready to start again now.

There is a story I wrote about my first sexual “adventure” with maggots. I thought I’d lost that too until I discovered that it’s been reposted all over the Web (it seems to be famous!). I will put that up here if this turns out to be a good place. I wrote about my second time too, but it looks like nobody reposted that. It must be really gone. It had to do with a dead deer I found close to I94 in Wisconsin about this time last summer. If anyone has seen it around, please let me know. I’ve realized that if too much time passes I don’t write very well. I couldn’t possibly rewrite it.

I’m going to be 29 next month. I haven’t had a boyfriend or even been with a man since I was 18. My parents don’t want to deal with me because I still refuse to go back to counseling. I’m working at Target now and I barely have enough money to keep my apartment and keep my car running. I do make a little extra money doing alterations on dresses but it’s not much. I don’t have any future plans for myself. I don’t have any marketable skills. I’m totally out of shape and I’ve gained some weight. I’m up to a size 14 now. And as hard as I’ve tried to change, I still feel like I’m a sick, perverse, filthy pig inside. I’ve tried to ignore the desires and disgusting ideas that come into my head. Dangerous things for me to do to myself to get off. I always hope I’ll change. I’ve been forcing myself to try. But the ideas never stop coming.

So where does that leave me now? I continue to struggle against my talent for failure. Pretending to be a normal woman while living in fear of backsliding and doing something really bad to myself. I picture myself, in metaphor, walking and falling into an open manhole, hanging onto the edge with my fingertips, and struggling to pull myself out. I keep falling in, over and over, and for a long time I’ve been able to get out each time. But I just don’t have the energy to struggle anymore. I want to let myself fall into the sewer now, and let myself sink into everything that is dark, dangerous, filthy, and perverse.