Tijuana Burger Girl Ch. 04-05

I don't know what's going on, but the bizarre, foreign stimulation feels good in the weirdest way...

The instant I lift the sheets, this godawful, sour, and putrid odor gusts out from underneath the covers like someone munching on trash just blew their halitosis in my face, making my eyes squint and my face scrunch up. "BLEHRGH," I retch violently, pinching my nose as I urgently swing my legs over the bed. During that move, my thighs rub together and I feel an unexpected wetness between my legs. "What the fuck..." I groan through a groggy whisper, my shaky legs wobbling as I drag my feet hastily away from the bed.

Smells like something died under my covers... I dry-heave so hard that my eyelids clamp shut and I double over. Did I leave food on my bed? I don't remember eating anything yesterday... All I remember is coming home from the trip, smoking, and passing out... When I try catching my breath, I inadvertently suck in another whiff of funk that makes me dry-heave again. Unless Payton brought me something for dinner last night... But it can't be that... because whatever that was smelled like old meat bathed in sour milk, and I doubt food would smell that horrid from only being left out overnight... Unless... Unless I've been asleep for days...

It sure feels like I've been out for days because I'm incredibly weak. Oddly enough though, I don't feel as thirsty as I should be if it's been more than a day since I've had any water...

As I turn back to my bed to figure out where that smell is coming from, I get super lightheaded and lose my balance, limply grabbing hold of my desk as I collapse. Somehow, I stop myself from falling. When I try standing upright, my vision goes blurry and my legs immediately buckle. The next thing I know, I'm on my hands and knees with stars floating in my vision.

What the fuck is wrong with me? I've never had aftereffects from molly like this before, I think palming my face and massaging my temples with my thumb and middle finger. It's then that I notice how warm my skin is. Feels like I have a fever... Is that why I'm so lightheaded and loopy? This can't still be the aftereffects of MDMA withdrawals...

Figuring I'm too dizzy to stand, I opt to crawl back over to my bed. Along the way, I see this glistening droplet on the floor before me—a bead of murky yellowish-brown slime. I look up to the ceiling to see where it came from but are no stains above me. When I look back down, I realize there's a trail of slimy globules between me and the bed, a trail that follows the path I just took. Some droplets are yellowish-brown while others are dark and thick like mud—chunkier-looking, like more of a paste than a liquid.

Where the fuck is all this coming from? I continue crawling, staring at the goo globs in confusion. Did I track this stuff from whatever was in my bed? Right as I'm close enough to reach up and grab the mattress, I see something that makes me freeze in place and causes my expression to sour even more—a small and beige wormlike bug writhing in a thick glob of slime. Is that... a maggot? I look up at the mattress, my eyes widening in horror as my gaze falls onto streaks of sliminess that trail up the bedsheet to where I climbed out of bed. And, crawling across the edge of the mattress along the trail of slime is another maggot.

"Ewwww..." I mewl. "What the fuck spoiled under the covers?" My words come out in a shaky whisper.

Did I leave food in bed before we left for Tijuana?

The panic sends a surge of adrenaline through me, giving me enough strength to grab the mattress and pull myself up. Standing on shaky legs with one hand planted on the bed to keep me from collapsing again, I peel back the covers and gasp at the sight.

"What... What the..." My eyes dart across the scene, my brain struggling to comprehend the situation. "What the fuck..."

Instead of finding spoiled food, all I see on the bedsheet is a dozen or so beige maggots squirming in a puddle of glistening slime that's surrounded by larger, pancake-sized, brown stain. It's as though the puddle of sludge was wider before it soaked into the fabric. Upon leaning a bit closer to the filth, I find these little, grayish, meat-like chunks that remind me of spoiled ground beef. And scattered in between those chunks are globs of dirt-colored sludge much like the muddy spots I found on the floor.

Where's the food though? My elbow and muscles ache as I pull the sheets back further. There's no food anywhere! The only thing in that bed are maggots, that stain, and the gross sheen in the center of the sheet. There's also a bunched-up towel with similar stains. Much like when I'm near blackout drunk, my body sways side to side and back and forth while I stare at the grossness on my bed. The chunks and the globs... they're at the top of the stain about where my pelvis would've been.

The gears start turning and the brain fog lifts just enough for the puzzle pieces to start coming together. I'm on the cusp of solving this mystery when something tickles its way across my labia and inner thighs again, prompting me to look down. My eyes damn near bulge out of my head when I see that, not only am I naked from the waist down but there are dozens of maggots squirming up my pubic mound and down the inside of my legs. "Wha—Where're my pants?" I whisper with a shaky breath as I brush and flick the maggots off me.

While staggering backward away from the maggots that I've flicked onto the floor, I realize that the tickling sensation isn't just on my vagina or happening between my inner labia, it feels like there's a writhing mass of the larva inside my cavity too, squirming energetically just behind my opening.

My body begins trembling. "No..." I whisper squatting slightly while I hesitantly reach between my legs. "No. No... No way..."

Right as my finger presses into my folds, my knees go weak and buckle beneath me again, causing me to drop in what feels like slow motion. On the way down, my core tenses so hard that my vagina clenches like a vise around the squishy mass inside my cavity—clenching with enough force to make warm liquid spurt noisily out of my hole. The moment my butt hits the wooden floor, whatever just oozed out of my vagina begins dribbling over my asshole.

Groaning, I fight against my spinning head and sit up, leaning back and spreading my legs wide. When I look between my thighs, I find a puddle of that same yellowish-brown liquid pooled on the floor beneath my vagina in a spot that was clean a second ago. And writhing in a pile in the center of the sludge are three maggots.

With wide, unblinking eyes, I stare in horror and the scene between my legs. The maggots... the slimy stuff... don't tell me...

"It's all coming out of me..." I whisper in a shaky, breathy voice as my body begins quaking violently.

Reluctantly, I bring my quivering hand between my legs, pressing against my warm folds before slowly and cautiously slipping a finger into my opening. Almost immediately, I feel writhing things against my skin, so I snatch my hand away and spaz out at the sight of a maggot on my fingertip. "Ah-ugh!" is the sound I make as I flick across the room.

On the second attempt, I ignore the squirming larvae inside my passage and manage to slip my middle digit past the first knuckle. About an inch into my cavity, as my finger glides against something too oily and thick to be my wetness, there's this obscenely sticky noise that reminds me of someone chewing apple sauce with their mouth open. Then, right when I'm just over two knuckles deep, I bump into a writhing mass.

"AH!" I shriek, snatching my hand away, flinging globs of yellowish-brown goo and a maggot on the floor before me in the process. "What the fuck..."

Maybe I should try to push the maggots out instead of trying to poke past them, I think, using one hand to spread my labia wide while tensing my abs and pelvic floor.

With a sticky-sounding spurt, a thick glob of slime oozes out of me in a continuous stream with about five or so maggots. It's like watching a milkshake dispenser pour a drink made of sewage with living, forbidden sprinkles...

"AAHH!" I screech, staring with bulging eyes at the mass of larvae writhing in the pool of filth, gagging from the godawful stench that rises from between my legs. "Payton! Payton! Payton!"

There's no response, which means she's probably out.

"Oh gawd," I groan in disgust, tensing and pushing again.

More thick slime and maggots gush noisily out of my cavity before hitting the puddle beneath my vagina with a light splat. Dry heaving, I push again, but nothing comes out. And I know there's more to push out because I still feel that mass stuffed way up there.

"You have to get it out of you," I whisper, spreading my labia wide with one hand while plunging two fingers into my hot tightness. "You have to..."

My passage schlicks with the creamiest noise I've ever heard as I slowly push into my depths. It takes everything in me not to react to the maggots squirming against my digits on route to whatever is up there. Right as I push my fingers in past the second knuckle, I don't poke a menstrual cup. Instead, I press into this slimy, squishy mass that feels soft and malleable like dough...

What the fuck... What the fuck is this inside me?

The deeper I finger myself, the squishier and creamier-sounding the obscene noises become, reminding me of the time my little sister Nikki smacked on peanut butter with her mouth right by my ear. Once I can't push any further, I curl my figures up to the roof of my birth canal, raking the gunk out of me with a 'come here' motion like I'm trying to stimulate my G-spot. The gooey squelching noise that accompanies my scooping sounds disgusting, like someone hand-mixing buttery mashed potatoes.

The moment my curled fingers leave my vagina, the maggot-teeming clump of slimy filth that slides down into my palm instantly makes me puke nothing but bile into my mouth. Being no stranger to the taste of vomit, I just choke it back down, gagging afterward.

"Oh god..." I whisper, holding my breath as I bring my hand up to my face to get a better look at these brown and gray chunks of meat. "What... is... that..." I reluctantly smear the stuff against my palm. "It looks like... rotten hamburger meat... but... it can't be..."

No... wait... some of it is covered in cheese... This is without a doubt hamburger meat... My eyes snap over to this gross rubbery-looking thing that I've uncovered from beneath the clump of gray meat. And... is that... a mushroom?

"But... how? Why?" I mutter. "Why would there be cheese-covered burger meat and mushrooms inside of my—" My words stop abruptly when the image of the guacamole, mayo, Monterey Jack cheese, and mushroom burger from Asada's pops into my mind. "No..."

Suddenly, I remember Vera telling me the other day that the reason I threw away my burger was because I "...left it outside for nearly three hours and the damn thing was covered in flies... so I told you to toss it... Then she said something about how I 'tried to figure out a way to smuggle it home' before I eventually "came to my senses" and threw it out...

But I didn't throw it out, did I?

A hazy memory comes back to me—a memory of me in the bathtub buzzing from alcohol while high on molly. In the recollection that feels like a rapidly fading dream, I see myself in first-person POV sitting there with my legs spread like they are now, breaking off chunks of my hamburger and mashing it between my fingers before packing my coochie full the way I used to with the chewed food I was trying to hide back when I was committed for my eating disorder. I vaguely recall getting off during the experience, probably because I was rolling hard from the molly. I sort of remember hiding the empty container in the trash so no one asked where my burger went.

The next thing I remember is coming home yesterday and pulling a smelly brown tampon out of my cavity and freaking out over the thought that I had an infection. So...

I went to bed without pants to give my vagina some fresh air in hopes that it'd help, then I passed out...

"Oh my gawd..." I mutter, trembling more violently than before. "Oh my gawd...

I stuffed an entire spoiled burger laden with fly eggs up into my flesh pocket then plugged it up with a tampon... And forgot about it because I blacked out while I did it and after I did it, I think, plunging my fingers all the way into my hot, rot-filled flesh pocket—my rot pocket. Like my life depends on it, I frantically scoop out a much larger clump, send it spattering onto the floor with a quick snap of my hand, then I reach back into my depths. A burger that was left out for nearly three hours, which means it was probably teeming with bad bacteria before I crammed it into me... The next mass I finger out has way more cheese and something that looks like old guac in the center of it, and damn... it smells way worse than the previous clumps. That means the reason I'm all achy and delirious is because I have a bad infection... Worse than what I had when I was committed to the hospital for my eating disorder.

"I might have toxic shock..."

If it is toxic shock, that means I have to act fast because every second counts. That means fingering all of the filth from my rot-filled flesh pocket is a waste of time because antibiotics are the only thing that'll stop things from going bad to deadly. So, I pull my fingers out of my slick and feverish hole, then I crawl back towards the bed.

"Payton!" I call out weakly.

No response.

That's right... I called out to her earlier and got no response. She's not home... I grab a hold of the mattress and use all my strength to pull myself up. 911. I need to call 911.

After using the bunched-up towel to wipe the greasy filth off of my hands, I grab my phone with the hand that I didn't have inside me and press the power button. Nothing happens. I try again. And again. On the third try, I hold the button down. It doesn't power up.

Crap, it's dead...

It's only after plugging in my charging cable and staring at the black screen for over a minute that I realize the battery symbol isn't popping up because the USB end isn't plugged into the charging block. It's not plugged into the charging block because that part is still in my bag somewhere.

I don't have time for this, I think, staggering on shaky legs towards my bedroom door like a drunk with Parkinson's. I need to get down the hall to Vera, Bailey, and Lacey's apartment. One of them has to be home. They can take me to the hospital.

Right as I open my door, hot liquid randomly drips from my vagina, hitting my thigh before rolling lazily down my leg. It's only after I look down at the bead of goo that I realize I'm not wearing pants...

Crap, I think, kneeling halfway in and out of my room. I grab the travel bag sitting beside the door, unzip it, then pull out one shirt after another until I finally grab a navy-blue sundress. Perfect.

After feverishly pulling on the sundress, I make my way to the apartment door, swaying and stumbling across the living room in a zigzagging path until I plant a palm against the wall to steady myself.

Eventually, I reach the door, fumbling with the knob for several seconds before realizing that I need to unlock the deadbolt above it. When I finally get the door open, I take one step out and instantly get super lightheaded.

The room spins while brilliant green stars fill my vision, zipping around like an EDC laser show as the world before me warps and blurs and spins.

The next thing I know, I feel myself falling through the doorway as everything is going black.

A preview of what lies ahead:

(CAUTION: What lies ahead may be sexy for some and disturbing for others)

Chapter 6: Fever From Fester — After waking up from a blackout, Alicia wakes with a worse fever and can't figure out how she ended up on the floor outside of her apartment.