Enter Sectian

Editor's note: this fictional work contains scenes of fictional mind control, rough, reluctant, dubiously consensual, consensually non-consensual (CNC), or non-consensual sex or scenarios.

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(( I'm always on the lookout for fresh, arousing concepts. I'd hate to wear out my current fetishes by over indulging them. I am typically interested in ridiculous fetishes, especially ones involving power imbalances.

This is an insect dub-con story, and I have trouble believing there is actually an audience for a such a disgusting tale. Yet evidence - mostly cheap cartoons of women getting raped by insects - or consenting to fornicate with them, are not difficult to find. I've found only a few text stories so far. Therefore I had to write one.

YOUR mileage will certainly vary. You Have Been WARNED. Burn your computer NOW! ))

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Chapter 1

Pamela Dragen hated walking home after work. It was three blocks to the bus stop, and sometimes the buses wouldn't stop. The neighborhood stank of sewage and garbage. Trash ambled along the sidewalk from gusts of wind, a cold wind which brought little relief from the stink.

The coldest winds blew from the river, through the city's butchering district. She gagged frequently while hurrying to the stop. A black purse dangled from her left shoulder. In her right hand, she carried a bulging plastic, shopping bag.

A rat in her path stopped her. It was big, nearly opossum size. What made her cringe worse than the sight of the fat rodent, was the cockroach it was chewing on. The roach was even larger than the rat! And it wasn't dead. It writhed under the rat's greedy bites, it's chitin crying out piteous squeaks. The rat's swift jaws made slight crunches as it ate the incredible meal as fast as possible.

Bright headlights lit the horrid scene for a second. Pamela was running late. She lurched toward the bus stop, skirting around the grotesque feast and dashing for a graffitied bench with a roof.

There, a curled figure had contorted himself around bench armrests designed to prevent laying along the seats. His body twitched but he was completely unconscious. Successive headlights lit up his worn sneakers and torn army jacket. His jeans were nearly new. A box of Chinese food lay on its side next to his knotted knees. Chow mein spilled out like vomit.

Halfway into the box was another of the fantastic roaches, a tad smaller than the first!

Pamela dropped the white bag she'd been carrying. She screamed when the bus hit its breaks and stopped before her. The stop's only illumination came from the bus's interior lights. The box's shadow hid the rapacious insect.

The door opened slowly. Pamela wanted to pound on them to hurry them up! She ducked to grab her bag and leaped up the stairs, slapping her transit card on the fare charging panel. A big latino woman frowned from the large driver's seat. "You okay, Ma-am?"

"Close the doors! Close'm, please!" Gods, she prayed the bug wouldn't follow her! Pamela darted down the isle, spinning to be sure it hadn't entered the vehicle.

"Crazy night people, one after another." The driver mumbled, closed the doors, and let her foot off the brake.

The frightened Pamela stood halfway down the aisle, clutching a vertical pole. The accelerating bus toppled her into an aisle seat. Pamela's heart raced, but she fought to slow her panic breathing. She looked around the seats. A couple dudes acting very tired or drunk, sat by the windows. In back, a black woman wearing a full length denim jacket stared down the aisle as if hopped up on some drug.

Pamela closed her polyester fill jacket around her throat and began to calm. It was the worst night yet. She hated the city. She hated her job. She looked into the plastic bag she'd carried madly into the bus.

The stuffed opossum inside was for her daughter. It was large enough to fill the bag's width. Pamela breathed a sigh of relief. Now she just had to get home before Adeline threw a fit. She knew she should hire a sitter, but most of them didn't feel comfortable being responsible for a retarded twenty-two year old. Sometimes a social worker could be convinced to allow Pamela to work late, but it cost nearly as much to bribe them, than what she would make from her terrible job during those extra hours.

Pamela worked at a gentleman's club. The manager did a decent job of keeping the place clean, inside and out. He'd hired graffiti artists to 'protect' the building's exterior, and the sexy ladies rendered around the cement block exterior attracted extra business.

Pamela was not a whore. That was the first thing she told people who asked about her work. She was not a stripper or even a lap dancer. She hoped to start tending the bar, but until she got her mixology license, she had to entertain guests in the old fashion way, talking.

Her manager, Dale Sykes, got the idea from watching Japanese Adult Videos. He had hired Pamela and two other women to keep lonely men company, but her real job was to spur the men (and sometimes women) into buying plenty of expensive drinks. Pamela had a degree in theater arts, which gave her a great background for making up shit to appeal to half drunken, middle managers and supervisors.

Her greatest suffrage was the occasional hand exploring where it didn't belong. Pamela could move the hand away but wasn't allowed to complain. If a customer got pushy or rough their bouncer, Michael Brown, patrolled ready and able to stop them. She felt safe enough at work, but she hated being groped while strippers danced on the stage under swirling lights and heavy beat music. In the back rooms, lap dancers accepted big tips for special favors. She didn't condemn those women. She wished people wouldn't think she was one of them.

Still she hated her job, the lying, the lewdness and lasciviousness, the annoying lights and constant thump-thump. Her boss would occasionally hit on her, lightly suggesting a hook-up. So would Michael, but they understood that "No," meant no. Their memory of the "no" least for a few weeks. It was however, bearable, and the money was decent, a couple hundred bucks a night, minimum.

Along her journey home, she had to change buses twice, but those stops were better lit and in better neighborhoods, and the wait times weren't bad, because night traffic rarely slowed the transit system.

Stepping off of the bus, she was in her home's neighborhood. She rented a decent apartment for not too much of her budget. Pamela walked quickly to her home.

"Momma, I was worried." Adeline rushed to her mother and hugged her. Pamela had to drop her gift to return the hug.

"You should be in bed."

"I tried." She looked sorry. "I want to sleep with you."

"Okay, Honey." Pamela smoothed her daughter's hair over the back of her distended neck. She had to wait until her daughter stopped hugging her. Every night, it was very important to reassure the slow-minded woman that she had not been abandoned. "I love you."

"I love you too, Momma." Adeline sighed and released her mother. She smiled contentedly.

Sleep was Pamela's second priority. She had installed black-out curtains throughout the home, except for her daughter's room. "Go make your bed, and then come to my room."

"Why?" Adeline tilted her head.

"Because you wanted to sleep with me."

"OH," The young woman grinned. "Yeah. I'll make my bed." She scurried happily to her room. Pamela was too exhausted to think of anything but her bed. She trudged away, leaving the plastic bag lying on its side. Reflective eyes scattered ambient light within the reusable sack.

Pamela woke up in a sweat from a terrible dream, but she couldn't remember it, except for a terrible smell. Adeline woke up too. "Momma?"

"I'm glad your here, Darling." She patted her grown child's shoulder. It didn't take long for the worn out mother to fall back asleep.

The next day was similar to the previous one. Pamela walked Adeline to the street corner where a van from State Services picked up high-functioning, challenged adults and took them to menial jobs. Adeline liked stocking shelves at the dollar store. She rarely put things in the wrong place, and her supervisor was very kind.

Pamela returned home and made herself lunch. She woke too late in the day for breakfast, and she needed to keep her figure trim and alluring. She cleaned house for the next few hours then went to the street corner to greet her daughter. They returned home, and Pamela worked alongside her daughter, to finish housecleaning. It was important to keep Adeline active. Too many adult children in the world, withered physically in front of a screen all day. Mother and daughter ended their day with a long walk to the grocer where Pamela bought fixings for dinner.

"Cheesecake!" Adeline had seen her mother buy it but only vaguely remembered until Pamela served it at the table. She was quite delighted by the surprise.

"This is for you too, my dear daughter." Pamela set a medium sized box next to the slice of cheesecake. She had wrapped the gift earlier that afternoon.

"OOO! It's a really big mouse!" Adeline's delight shifted into adoration after tearing into the box. "So soft and furry!"

"It's a opossum, Honey. They are very quiet creatures who live in the woods and eat bugs and worms.

"Ewe!" Pamela's daughter screwed up her face. A second later. "I love it!" She hugged and kissed the large, stuffed marsupial. "Can I take my possum to the woods now?"

"That's a special opossum, Adelie. She likes to sleep in beds."

"Won't she get lonely without a boy possum?"

Pamela felt tears back up behind her eyes. "Adeline had been told about the birds and the bees. She could recite the truth about human reproduction, but she couldn't understand the magnitude of sexuality. Pamela wished for herself, like she wished for her daughter, that they could ignore the difficult things that were part of sex.

Pamela wanted a man in her life, but dating was always touch and go. No men her age, early-forties, had the guts to interact with her adult child, even on the simplest level. Pamela didn't need a husband to be a father for her dear offspring. She needed a companion, a sex partner, and reliable support for her insecurities.

Adeline's concern for the stuffed toy's loneliness reflected her personal lack of a partner. She may be slow of mind, but her body and heart were missing what most people miss when they're unable to partner. When Adeline turned eighteen, Pamela bought her a special picture book about female masturbation, and she heard her daughter cry out in climax from time to time ever since then. It was the best she could do as a mother, in that regard.

There are instances of successful marriages between good men and adult girls, and also between supervised adult girls and adult boys, but Pamela didn't have the strength of heart to risk Adeline's lovely, safe world with anyone.

At five o'clock, Pamela kissed Adeline and had her recite what to say if she needed to call 911. Freshly anxious the mother hurried away to catch the first of her buses downtown.

Before stepping out of the last bus, Pamela always checked the surroundings. There was little foot traffic on the sidewalks, this being an industrial area two hours after the quitting hour. Her employer, the gentleman's club, "Show Her," had a special zone permit to operate. Basically, erotic establishments were 'zoned' away from regular entertainment areas of the city.

Pamela noticed the man in a dilapidated army jacket. This time he was huddled behind a short wall of the bus stop, gawking eastwardly. All that she saw in that direction was the growing gloom of nightfall. The sun was sinking away in the other direction.

There wasn't anyone else. She stepped onto crumbling sidewalk and headed for the club.

"Get in shelter soon." A rough voice called behind her. "There'll be many more tonight!"

Pamela kept walking but turned to keep an eye on the homeless man. He ducked behind the narrow wall.

BAT. Something small struck her forward shoulder. Pamela jumped back, landing on her feet in the street, fortunately empty. DUP! Something smaller ricocheted off of her hip. Looking around quickly, Pamela saw the next one coming. It buzzed past her face, a roach. Not huge like the previous night but twice as large as common roaches.

"Get down or behind something!" The man shouted. It was advice that sounded suddenly sound. She dashed back towards the bus stop. Several roaches flew past, the buzz of their wings helped to avoid them. A few bumped her jacket and slacks, but a greater buzzing approached. She reached the other side of the bus stop and ducked behind that wall. Dozens of roaches swept around it.

An electric car, cruising in the opposite direction made sickening crunches. Its washer and wipers sprang into action.

The swarm's bulk sang by, a three dimensional parade of cacophonous tones. Pamela could just make out its rough shape, a B-movie flying saucer but not particularly dense. Her attention diverted to her clothes. She brushed two of the things off of her sleeves and pant legs.

"They're thinning now." The man stated.

"How much longer?" The fly-by hadn't lasted more than five minutes, and she still had time to make her shift.

"Give it 'nother minute." He answered.

"You've seen them before?" Pamela had been employed at Show Her for over a year. She'd never seen anything but crows flying.

"I wish I'd never seen them, Lady." He sounded as if he experienced them as a delusion. "They right fucked me!"

"Roaches? They spoiled your food or bedding?" The struggling mother felt like she didn't have it all that bad when homeless people had to live and sleep with roaches.

"These ones fucked my life!" He yelled at the last bugs flying past. "And they're NOT roaches!"

An angry man was potentially dangerous. "I'm sorry." Pamela braved any further impacts, running far wide of the man, towards her work site.

The last words she caught were, "It's my damn fault too."

Michael Brown was standing at the entrance, ready to check IDs. But it was too early for a line to form. He would work inside when the place had more customers.

"Mike, do me a solid and see if there're any bugs on my clothes!" Pamela halted in front of him and slowly turned around. The bright floodlights were plenty for the task."

"Hey, Chicken Little, that's a new way to flirt." The burly, half-Samoan, half-Black man chuckled.

"Mike, I'm serious. You didn't see that disgusting swarm of roaches." The man had said they weren't roaches, but if it buzzes like a roach...

"Okay, Pammy, I got you." He looked. "Sorry, I'm trying to keep my eyes off of your tail feathers- Oh shit! Big fucker. Want me to get it?"

"PLEASE!"

The jovial man swatted a clinging roach from her left pants cuff. CRUNCH! He stomped it. "My pleasure." He glued his eyes to her butt, and remained bent over.

"Oh, you're awful." Pamela pouted upon seeing him pretend to adore her ass. "But thanks."

"Hey, don't I get a hug for saving the princess?"

"Ahh, sure." She gave him a quick hug and dashed inside.

The routine chaos of hosting drunken men and some women, calmed her for the next six hours. Then with extra alertness, she walked the three blocks to the bus stop. Along the way, dead roaches dotted the sidewalk. She kept brushing her arms and torso, shivering at the thought of one still clinging.

Army jacket man wasn't at the stop. The bus arrived on schedule, and she sighed with great relief when she sat down flooded by its interior lighting. The bus growled down the street.

She checked her clothes twice during the trip, once between each connecting bus. She checked again outside the door to her apartment.

Adeline didn't meet her when Pamela stepped inside. That was rare, but not alarming. The one odd thing was a bad smell in the air, like the compost hadn't been taken downstairs. She went to her daughter's room but was surprised by soft moans seeping through the door. She left her daughter to her privacy.

Before and after showering, she checked every inch of her clothes, inside and out. In the shower, she washed twice. Finally, she emerged naked, strode to her room, and crept under the bed's clothes.

She thought about her daughter pleasuring herself. Pamela was very proud of her daughter. Her thoughts shifted to her own sexuality. There wasn't much to it, not much more than Adeline's one option for release. Pamela kept her sex life separate from her work life. That left her with little time to start a relationship, and less time for stray sexual encounters.

Those did happen. Men found her quite attractive, and each week, two or three would introduce themselves. If she thought the man might be safe for a good fucking, she would avail herself of his charms. She was always up front about what she expected from the guy. In five years, only one had stalked her afterwards.

One time, when the man followed her in a bus, she walked up to him and sprayed pepper mist across his face. "He's been stalking me." She told the passengers. No one complained nor helped the blind idiot down the bus stairwell. The driver had no doubt ignored worse events in his bus.

Pamela lay awake, wanting a man moving inside of her. Big, small, it didn't matter. She wasn't particularly romantic about sex either. Kissing and hugging had their place, but if a man wasn't chewing on her nipples and either fingering her pussy or fucking it, she'd do it herself. That's what her cramped life had turned her sexuality into.

If she was lucky to have a dildo in her purse, she'd show the man he was late for the game. Her dildo would only be in her purse when she was particularly horny, enabling a quick 'doe fuck' in a toilet stall at work. On a night when the same-old same-old entertainment actually aroused her, she knew she would need to carry a dildo for a week.

Pamela crept out of her bed and fetched her dildo.