textfiles/sex/EROTICA/M/meltpoin.txt

Archive-name: Bestial/meltpoin.txt
Archive-author: leigh
Archive-title: The Melting Point

by leigh@waffle.whiffer.*


"Doctor Roberts, it was good of you to come."

I nodded to the man who had greeted me, and held out my hand to him.  He
shook it the perfunctory three times, medium grip, no particular
emphasis on touching my palm, more of a simple meeting of personal
spaces.  We were all professionals here, his handshake told me.  I was
slightly amused.

"Father Dubrowski."  I seated myself in the chair he held for me, and
put my attache on the floor by my foot.  I was careful to not cross my
legs, but to rest them together at a slight angle, leaning on the arm of
the chair. Perhaps the spoken language was my life's work, but the
language of symbol was just as important to a career.

"May I get you something, Doctor?  A cup of tea, perhaps?"  Father
Dubrowski smiled at me as I shook my head.

"I wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed your monograph on the Feral
Child of Casamance."  I nodded to emphasize my words, and I saw a flush
of pleasure on his face.  "Quite well documented."

"Well, there were films, you know."  The Father pushed around a pencil
on his desk, rolling it around on his leather desk pad.  "It's always so
much easier when there are films when you can't actually view the child.
That is why I was so impressed with _your_ work, Doctor.  You must have
spent quite a time researching those older cases, when children raised
by animals were considered - slightly less than human."

"In the instances of the children found in Hesse and Wetteravia, all I
had to go on was old tales, legends, that sort of thing."  I frowned
slightly.  "Considering the fact they were both described as
'wolf-children', both found in the German states and both first recorded
in the year 1344 makes me wonder if there were indeed two children at
all, or simply one poor idiot who was shipped from town to town as some
sort of example to the irreligious - begging your pardon, Father."

"No pardon needed, my dear.  Those were different days, as they say."
He slapped his palms down on his desk and half-rose from his chair.
"Would you like to go to the quarters?  That's where we have Thomas."
He chuckled at my raised eyebrow.  "The fathers have named the boy
Thomas, as they have doubts about him.  An attempt at humor, you see."
He chuckled again, then held the door for me and gestured toward our
left, down a long corridor.

"Doubts?"  My heels echoed in the long hallway, their taps on the hard
slate floor seeming to announce our progress. "Doubts as to his
authenticity?"

"Doubts about him being human, Doctor."  I turned my head quickly and
looked at the priest, but his face was completely blank.  "You shall see
what I mean in a moment." I could feel the expression on his face as he
spoke.  "God have mercy on the child."  He said.

*****

"Subject is male, approximately seventeen years of age.   Only very
crude mental development tests have been administered to date, and this
data seems to indicate sub-moronic to moronic status.  Language skills
are non-existent."

Doctor Roberts touched the pause button on her recorder and sat for a
moment staring at the potted fern on her desk. The events which had
taken place earlier that evening still haunted her.  It was rare that
one could ever encounter anything disturbing in the field of
linguistics, even though her specialty had led to some strange
researches in the past, but what she had seen and done tonight was as
vivid in her brain now as it had been in that tiny room behind the
two-way mirror.  The images made her uncomfortable. She had tried to
dismiss it, had tried from the moment she had first seen Thomas in his
confinement, tried to analyze her feelings into that cool container
where she kept such things in her head.

After a moment she cleared her throat.  Her hands were moving nervously
over the tiny holes where the speaker of the microcasette were punched
into the plastic.  "Bodily development from first cursory inspection
seems to be normal."  She hit the pause button again.

She sat back in her chair, the microcasette where she stored her
thoughts still in her hand, her finger poised above the pause button,
where it was wont to rest as she ruminated. Her gaze never left the
fern, simply rested there;  her vision was still in the rectory twenty
six miles away, inside of a brick building covered with ivy, down a long
bright corridor, behind a triple-locked door.

****

"Amazing!"  She had breathed onto the glass of the observation window.
She heard Father Dubrowski scuffle his feet for a moment, as if thinking
carefully about what he was going to say.

"Yes.  An amazing case, even if a pitiful one.  It's hard to remember
that these are only children who have never felt the loving care of a
real parent."  There was a silence as the priest waited to see if his
barb had hit the mark. "Don't you agree?"  He seemed disappointed at the
Doctor's lack of response.

"I could argue that point with you, Father."  She had looked at him with
amusement.  "I think the case could be made that he did indeed have all
of the loving care that the wolves could provide, and we are the ones
who are depriving him of what is his - hmm, shall we say natural?-
heritage."

"A very modern view, Doctor."  She thought she could hear a slight sigh
come from her companion's mouth.  "However, that does not take into
account," he continued quietly, "the spiritual considerations, which of
course concern me greatly."

She felt him looking at her as she gazed at the youth in the room, but
did not reply.  Her attention was elsewhere.

Thomas seemed to be in his late adolescence;  from the dental reports
she had seen his age had been given as approximately seventeen.  He was
of medium stature, rail-thin; his naked body was sinewy and covered with
scars and marks.  His hair was still wild and matted, its thin blond
strands clumped together with years of dirt and sweat. Apparently the
attempt at giving him a bath had only been partially successful.

"I would have expected an attempt to clothe him, Father.  Any reason why
not?"

"It's useless, that's why not.  He rips anything from his body with
great howls if we even try to put the barest of necessities on him."
There was a genteel cough.  "My apologies for subjecting a lady to such
a spectacle."

She had laughed then, and the Father had joined her briefly.  She felt a
lessening of tension between the two of them, and was glad.  She did not
relish the prospect of working with this celibate anachronism to begin
with;  any tension between them would only aggravate her impatience with
the good Father.

"Father, do you mind if I observe Thomas alone for a while?  I would
like to make some notes, and would feel less distracted without
company."  She had smiled her best 'just-between-us' smile, and he had
agreed immediately.  She promised to join him for a cup of tea
afterwards, and he left in a flurry of smiling and nodding, as if he was
glad to leave the sight of Thomas in his room under any circumstance.

She pulled up a chair and sat down, taking a soft pencil and a pad of
newsprint paper from her attache and balancing it on her knee.  She
looked into the room, noticing that Thomas was for the moment sitting
quite still and looking into the mirror as if he could feel her there.

She drew a few quick sketches of his face.  The mouth and cheeks seemed
to carry all of the  expression on Thomas' face.  His eyes, although
darting about him, never resting, seemed to be blank, as if the thoughts
which he might have never lingered long enough to register there.  On
each cheek was a long scar, white against his dark tanned skin.  His
teeth were very white, but crooked;  one of his front teeth seemed to be
chipped.

She rapidly did a study of his entire body.  He did not sit on the cot
provided to him, but sat on the floor, his buttocks and the soles of his
feet touching the ground, his arms wrapped around his legs below the
knees. His chest was narrow and hairless;  his stomach concave.  His
genitals seemed enormous.

She looked at the picture she had drawn.  She could not pinpoint her
mistake, but she could feel its presence.  She studied the drawing, then
looked from it to the subject. Yes, the face:  now in profile, the
crooked nose, the slashed cheeks, the smooth eyepits.  The chest:  ribs
showing, tiny nipples almost concealed by his tan, a large mole under
his right pectoral muscle.  His abdomen:  stomach curving in, pelvic
saddle seen under his leathery skin.  His genitals:  testicles flattened
heavily on the floor, penis hanging straight down, the head and the
first two inches of shaft lying in front of him like something
carelessly discarded.

No, wait.  She stood up, holding her face near the glass, looking at him
from a different angle.  It was a trick of the light, perhaps.  The way
he was sitting.  The angle of her vision.  She felt hot and
uncomfortable, slightly dirty. She pressed her cheek against the cool
glass, closing her eyes.  She must get back to her office, soon.  The
repressive atmosphere of the rectory was upsetting her balance,
obviously.  An exaggerated reaction to-

Her train of thought was cut off as Thomas stood up.  It hadn't been a
trick of the light.

His posture was terrible, she noted instantly, almost mechanically.  He
had slumped against a wall, his shoulder bearing most of his weight, one
leg locked, one balanced on his toes.  His hands  seemed to flutter
around him;  his head moved in lazy arcs as his eyes roamed the room, as
if he were looking for signs of movement.

She looked at his penis hanging down, swaying slightly as he shifted his
weight.  She realized with a start that this could be no true child of
the wild - he was circumcised.  He had been born in a hospital then;  he
had a name, perhaps forever lost, but he had one.  She put both hands on
the glass beside her face to steady herself.

She could not look away from him.  His hands were flitting about his
chest, touching it lightly, seeming almost to scratch it.  Her face
reddened as she noticed that his cock was beginning to fill out, the
shaft lengthening slightly, the meaty head darkening.  For a moment the
boy seemed unaware of his erection, then seized it with both hands and
held it straight out from his body.  He was breathing through his mouth;
she could hear its rasp through the audio pickup.  A long, thin strand
of saliva crept from the corner of his mouth and he caught it in one
hand, slathering it over the head of his cock.  He pulled at his swollen
shaft mercilessly, grunting, pushing its length through one hand and
into the grasping other. His hips bucked and his heavy balls swayed like
pendulums as he masturbated the absurd length and breadth of his meat.

Her hands seemed to move up to her breasts under their own volition.
They had grown in her awareness, just as the boy's cock had grown in his
hand.  She fingered them through the warm silk of her blouse, through
the sensible white lace bra she wore.  She was repulsed by the
disgusting sight of this boy, little more than an animal, stroking his
cock feverishly, pulling it, slapping his balls against his thighs with
his rough movements, stopping only to put one hand into his mouth to
salivate on his fingers and then return them to the engorged head of his
cock, making it glisten.  She was repulsed, and yet fascinated.  She
thought of that swollen cock, how hot it would be to the touch, the
elastic feel of the spongy mass of its cleft head, the hard veined
shaft, the immense heaviness of his swaying balls. There was no
imagining what he had done in the years since his sexual maturity, of
what rituals of his animal brethren he had partaken.  She felt a hot,
sharp pain in her abdomen. Perhaps he had even copulated with the
wolves.  She drew in her breath.

He seemed to be vocalizing something now.  It was a series of yelps;
between these his tongue darted out and stabbed at the air like a
snake's.  He was moving both hands down his cock now, pulling it as if
he meant to separate it from his body.  There was a gooey drop which had
seeped from the opening at the tip of his cock, she watched it as his
fingers smeared it into the groove of the head.

Her cunt was pounding.  What would it be like to have sex with this boy?
She had read of sexual aberrations of humans interested in animals.
Would it be like that?  To be fucked by an unknowing creature, a living
being interested only in its own pleasure, unfeeling and uncaring of its
partner? She found that horrifying, but at the same time perversely
attractive.  To have a cock deep inside of her cunt, shoving into her,
its only goal to stroke itself inside the wet walls of her pussy until
it gushed out its sticky fluid... her only goal to have that giant cock
fuck her and fuck her until she came, screaming, tearing, wanting to
have that hunk of flesh trapped inside of her emptiness, to let her clit
pulse and burn until she exploded into orgasm after orgasm...

Thomas' yelps had turned into a sort of bark.  His dick was an angry
red, its knob like a ripe fruit about to burst.  He had collapsed onto
the floor, still yanking at its shaft, drooling onto its upturned head
to make it slick.  His legs were splayed out in front of him, wide;  he
held his balls in one hand to keep them from the cold floor, rolling
them in his hand inside their sac.  He was bending over his cock as if
to inspect is fiery redness, to warm himself at its heat. She watched in
fascination as his head went lower and lower, his tongue snaked out, and
he licked his distended cockhead.

She felt faint as she watched the display.  The ache in her pussy was
unbearable.  She grabbed her skirt and pulled it up around her hips,
digging her fingernails into the waistband of her panties and pantyhose
and pulling them down to her knees.  She propped one leg on the seat of
the chair by the mirror, pulling the lips of her cunt open, feeling the
wet flow freely from her inner to her outer lips.  She put her finger to
her clit and rubbed furiously, wanting to come, wanting this horrible
needing feeling inside of her to stop, this insane desire to be fucked
like an animal, to be fucked by this animal-boy.  She winced as a long
nail scored the side of her delicate tissues, but never stopped her
obsessed hand, demanding an easy orgasm from her clit, a release from
the disgusting urges which held her captive.

She was crooning to herself as she plunged two fingers into her wet
tunnel, then stroked her clit with increased fervor. He was tonguing
himself over and over, the head now almost in his mouth.  He ran the
back of his tongue over the underside of his cock, kneading his balls,
his fingers circling his shaft tightly, pushing it up into his mouth.
His head rocked over it, each time moving a millimeter further downward.
His cockhead disappeared for a split second into his mouth and he gave a
loud grunt;  her fingers pushed harder and harder, circling faster and
faster over her clit as she watched him try to suck his own cock.  Her
mouth was watering.  She wanted that musty flesh for her own to suck, to
get it dripping with her saliva, then to drop to her knees and have him
jab all of his huge, swollen dick into her again and again, grunting and
grasping and finally spraying her with jets of hot, viscous come.

Her clit pounded, it burned, it quivered under her touch, but she could
not come.  She cried out gruffly in her frustration.  There was only one
thing to do.

She went to the observation room's door and locked its flimsy knob.
Looking around, she pushed the chair she had been using to the door and
shoved its back under the knob as well.  She kicked off her shoes, then
pulled down her hose and panties.  She ripped off a thumbnail in her
haste to unbutton her blouse, unknotting the conservative bow at her
neck with impatience.  She reached back and unfastened her bra, letting
her tits hang free from its wire structure. Her nipples were erect,
harder than they had ever felt before, aching in her neglected breasts.

She hurried to the door which connected the observation room to Thomas'
room.  She knew there were no video cameras for surveillance;  Father
Dubrowski had lamented that fact, saying that he wished he could
document all that happened to Thomas since his arrival yesterday at the
rectory.  Let him document this, then.  She jerked open the door.

Thomas' head flew up and his cock popped out of his mouth and hung
straight out from his body, one hand still grasping its root.  He
snarled at her, but did not stop caressing his throbbing, oozing cock.

She stood in the doorway for a moment, as if unsure of what to do.  Her
rational mind seemed to be crying out to her to stop this madness, to
save herself from total degradation. How could she be standing nude,
pussy wet and aching, tits free and thrusting, standing in front of this
pathetic sex-absorbed creature, barely deserving the label of human? She
hesitated, and then shook her head, thoughts scattering like the strands
of her hair.  She put her hand into her pussy and smeared it with her
juices, then walked over to where Thomas sat and thrust it into his
face.

"I bet you understand that, you son of a bitch."  She growled.

She fell to her knees beside him and he caught her by her hair.  He did
not have to force her head to his cock, her mouth was reaching to it
hungrily on its own.  His cockhead would barely fit into her mouth.  It
tasted slightly of urine, but more of the pre-cum which had oozed from
its tiny hole.  She lapped at it, moving his hand from his cock,
grabbing it all for her own, grabbing his balls like hot stones, pulling
on them.  She could barely breathe with so much cock stuffing her mouth.
The blood rushing in her cunt made a clatter in her head, making it even
harder to think of anything but the satisfying bulge of dick in her
mouth, big balls in her hands, and the rough push and grab of Thomas'
hands as they sought out her tits.  He pinched the nipple on her right
breast, hard.  She moaned and stuck her ass up in the air, trying to
give him more room to feel for her breasts, to put his scratchy,
callused hands on them, to pull at her nipples as if he were milking
her.  She licked his cock, ran it over her face, kissed every long inch
of it.  He grunted when she would engulf the head in her mouth and tried
to push her head down with one of his hands, but she could take no more
than that at once. She felt as if his dick would suffocate her once when
she fondled his balls and he thrust up, burying even more inches of him
between her lips.  She gasped.

He suddenly pushed her, knocking her over on her back.  She opened her
legs wide, panting, but he ignored her flaming cunt and started to
devour her tits.  He sucked at them, mauling them with his hands,
drawing the flesh of her breast up into his mouth along with the nipple.
She reached down and again stroked her clit, her entire body awash with
a longing to do this forever, to be on the edge forever, to fuck and
suck forever.  She grabbed his cock with her hand and tried to guide him
between her legs with it, but he did not move.  Her knees came up and
pressed her hand as it teased and rubbed her clit.  She wanted all of
that massive dick inside of her, she had to have it.  She didn't care if
he was an animal or a human, she wanted that burning red cock buried up
inside of her and she wanted it now.  She turned over on her stomach and
stuck her ass high in the air, her knees wide, her ass only inches from
his face.  She craned her head back to watch him as he positioned
himself behind her, and she moaned in anticipation of his dick jabbing
into her begging cunt;  her eyes widened as she felt his dirty, matted
hair touch her ass and his tongue slip into her lips, rasping over her
clitoris and then into her pussy.

He lapped at her with broad strokes, tonguing first her clit and then up
inside her.  She heard the wet sounds of his lips against her ass, then
the wetness of his spit on the opening of her ass.  His tongue buried
itself in her tight, tiny spot and then his finger followed.  It felt
like her pussy would explode when he put four fingers into it and
stroked in and out, one finger keeping rhythm inside of her ass.  She
groaned and pushed back on his hands, wanting to be filled completely,
thrusting against whatever would satisfy her insatiable hunger to be
fucked.

He took his hand from her pussy and in a few seconds she felt the huge,
hot head of his dick pressing against the opening of her cunt.  She
cried out and pushed back sharply against it, her grunts matching his as
his thick meat slammed into her, pushing against her cervix.  His other
hand was still at her ass;  he slipped a second finger in as he began
stroking his dick into her.

She put her weight on her elbows and crossed her arms, resting her head
on them.  With each thrust she moved backward, trying to shove more and
more of his big cock into her dripping cunt, her ass convulsing around
the two fingers shoving in and out.  His dick was moving faster and
faster, her pussy muscles milking it, her lips being stretched wide, her
clit dragging backward and forward with each stroke. His fingers slipped
from her ass and his hands grasped her hips;  he held her steady as he
pounded into her, grunting, groaning as his cock swelled in anticipation
of spraying his cum in her pussy.  He was worked into a frenzy, his hips
like gears driving a machine, his cock a piston, working toward a huge
splattering of juice.  Her cries were staccato as he knocked her breath
out into little gasps.  Her orgasm was a crackling fire, small now but
simply waiting for his gushing come to break it out into wildfire.  Her
tits slapped back and forth to his cock plunging to her depths; she
grabbed her nipples and let their motion pull on them as she pinched
tightly with her fingers.

His cock was almost unbearable within her now, unbearably pleasurable.
He was stuffing his meat into her, each time he buried himself in her up
to the hilts he groaned loudly, until his groans all seemed to melt into
one.  He gave a great thrust, toppling her over, her breasts flattening
against the hard tile of the floor;  his cock gave a great leap inside
of her and seemed to quiver as great spouts of come flooded her pussy,
and its slickness allowed him to thrust into her as he came, making her
come, a great explosion in her pussy which wracked her entire being.
She screamed at him to come and come, to fill her with his come, to make
her drip with his gushing.  He continued to come in spurt after spurt as
her orgasm pulled her muscles tighter and tighter around his cock, and
then he withdrew from her and lay panting on the floor.

She moved toward him, as if to lie with him for a moment, but he growled
at her and kicked his leg out at her.  His cock fell sticky and
glistening across his thigh.  She sat there, looking at it, transfixed.

****

Doctor Roberts again cleared her throat, and then disengaged the pause
button of her recorder.

"My recommendation is to begin work rehabilitating this individual.  I
feel there are good probabilities that he can learn to speak and to
function at a nominal level in society.  It will take time, however, and
intensive instruction.  I believe that if the subject known as Thomas
can build a rapport with one human being, this can be a stepping-stone
to other relationships.  I strongly suggest that he be kept in isolation
from all but this one individual until the time that individual feels
that a wider circle of relationships would be beneficial to the
subject."

Doctor Roberts took a deep breath and fingered the leather dog collar
she had purchased a few hours before.

"I suggest that this individual be me."

--