42 MONSTER IN MY POCKET EXPANDED VERSION  

jasonabadboy4u 30M
48 posts
6/19/2006 1:56 am
42 MONSTER IN MY POCKET EXPANDED VERSION

42 MONSTER IN MY POCKET EXPANDED VERSION.
For the fourth time that day, Susan felt the hem of her overcoat snag on her stockings. Craning her head over her shoulder, she saw the telltale run down the back of her leg that told her she'd just lost another pair of stockings. Damn! She'd had nothing but bad luck with her clothes since she'd bought that coat. She was beginning to wonder if it was cursed. It had been a last-minute purchase. Not that she hadn't been looking for nearly two hours in the department store for a warm winter overcoat to go with her dark outfits. But it wasn't until the closing gong sounded that she spied the coat hanging by itself on a rack outside the changing rooms. It was plush and furry, and just the right size for her slim build. The coat was a mottled, natural color that wasn't quite what she had in mind, but she wondered if maybe that opinion was influenced by the fact that the manufacturer wasn't one of the better-known designers. Susan inspected the label to see what the coat was made of, but there was nothing that gave her a clue. She flagged down a tired-looking sales clerk, who perked up noticeably when she realized that Susan was a potential sale. The woman launched into some double-speak about a type of fur from some rare animal in some unpronounceable third-world country Susan had never heard of. She surmised that the clerk had a prepared sales patter to cover up the fact that she knew nothing of what she was talking about. The closing gong sounded a second time, hastening Susan's decision to buy the coat. She didn't want to take a chance on wearing some endangered species that would get paint-bombed by the anti-fur fanatics--but neither did she want to risk leaving the coat for someone else to buy and having nothing to show for her two hours of work. While the clerk checked her credit card status, Susan tried the coat on one more time. Looking in the three-way mirror, she thought it seemed to hang a little lower to her right--which was odd considering that when she had held it up on the hanger, it seemed to hang a little bit lower to the left. When she couldn't find anything stuck in one of the pockets that might be weighing the coat on one side, she chalked it all up to some hidden anti-theft device, or maybe the mirror's reversal of images. That evening, when she got back to her apartment, she performed her usual ritual of greeting her parakeets, which were among the few animals on her landlord's approved pet list. The birds went ballistic, thrashing against the bars and putting up a ruckus that would have scared off any cat within three blocks. Susan couldn't figure out what was wrong with them until she pulled her coat out of the shopping bag and the birds became even more frenzied. She wondered if the fur the coat was made from was from some kind of natural predator of parakeets. The birds would probably be fine once the coat had had a good dry cleaning. And her dry cleaner could no doubt tell her just what kind of fur the coat was made from. Yesterday, on her way into work, she'd found a tear in her blouse that she knew had not been there when she'd dressed that morning. She suspected a stapled tag or hidden straight pin lost in the coat's lining, but when she inspected it at her office she could find nothing the fabric would have caught on. On her lunch hour, she felt an unusual chill on the back of one leg and discovered a jagged tear in her leggings, just below the level of her skirt. Something sharp in the lining of the coat had to be moving around and causing all this damage to her wardrobe, but she was dammed if she could find it. And what was wore was that the tear in her blouse was getting bigger, forcing Susan to go home early. Susan's grouchy disposition over the loss of today's nylons wasn't helped any by the bus home, Which was crowded and overheated. She was hanging by a strap, pressed between businessmen with briefcases, when she felt a wiggle across the back of her thigh. She turned to glare at the jerk behind her--and then felt something slither across her chest. She screamed as something stung her sharply on her chest. Then stung again. And again. Onlookers squirmed away, trying to give her space as she frantically thrust her hands inside the coat. Her fingers came out with smears of blood on the tips. Clawing at the inside of her coat, Susan loosened a seam in the lining. She heard a hissing sound. Petrified, Susan threw down her coat and not caring who saw her topless, ripped off her blouse to search for the cause of her new injuries. A thin black snake, over a foot long, slid out over her chest and plopped to the floor. Susan fainted. She awakened to the sound of a telemetry monitor and the smell of disinfectant that told her she was in the hospital emergency room. A young doctor was swabbing the area of her breasts with a cool cloth, and Susan was propped in such a way that she could see a series of pinpoint tracks along the skin, right where she had felt the sting. The doctor was very kind with his explanations, assuring her that the snake that had bit her was not poisonous, and that the bites would heal in time. The snake had probably crawled into the coat where the importers had shipped it from. Probably smelled the fur and recognized it as an animal common to wherever it lived. They'd inspected the coat thoroughly and could assure her there were no more lurking reptiles. Susan felt squeamish about wearing the coat home, but it was cold outside and she had little alternative. Snake-free or not, she was taking it back to the store the next day and demanding a refund. She was just crawling into bed completely nude, that evening when she felt an itch along her side. She idly scratched it, but that only seemed to make it worse. She wondered if it was the effects of whatever the emergency room physician had coated her with. She woke up suddenly in the middle of the night. Her skin felt like it was on fire. She ripped back the covers and stared at her nude body. An army of mite-sized bugs was swarming over her stomach. Some had burrowed in, and Susan could see a florid pattern of hemorrhages coalescing under her skin. Horrorstruck, she saw a black swath of the bugs cuttings across the carpet from the end of her bed to the door. They seemed to be pouring out of the coat. As she began to get out of bed, she was horrified to find one big but, that looked like a leech or huge maggot. It must of been the queen of the insects for it seemed to be laying it's eggs inside of her vagina. Before the pain became too excruciating, she mad it to the phone and managed to dial 911. The only one who could explain the weird bug infestation on and in Susan was the pathologist who performed the post-mortem autopsy on Susan's ravaged body in the morgue. He knew of these insects. They burrowed in the hides of one particular species of animal native to his country and laid their eggs in it. When the young hatched, they fed on the poor victim's blood, tissue, and organs. For that reason, import of the fur outside the country was strictly forbidden. Usually, the pests were not a problem. There was one natural predator whose diet consisted mostly of these insects. It sought them out and was responsible for destroying most of its population. It was a special kind of thin black snake. . . . But if the infested victim wasn't found in time, it was a horrible way to die. For Susan she died knowing the terror of having a magnificent insect species make their nest inside of her vagina.


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