After seeing Harrie Bowvase in “Harrie the movie” Francine Roostermuncher heads out to Horse-ville Illinois, Harrie’s home town, hunting for a guy or girl with an eight inch cock to poke her with her boyfriend Tony Meyer in pursuit.
This is Tony’s harrowing story, and he ain’t fond of lilly assed tranny Homos, but hey don’t shoot the messenger. Andy. 20 September 2010.
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I guess it was curiosity that led me to come to Horseville Illinois, I was watching the pornos that Gerry Frankel made with Harrie Bowvase and Amelia Timmins, and my girl Francine walked in on me, and damn it to hell if that girl didn’t walk straight out on me out when she saw how Harrie was hung, “I ain’t hanging around with a six inch cock when there’s eight inchers out there to poke with!” she said and she just walked straight out the door.
She come back an hour later for some clothes and the car keys, ‘cos she got mighty cold in her nightdress what with walking through the snow drifts and all that but she had her mind made up and she set off in her little Chevette to find Gerry Frankel and get famous or worst thing get laid.
I hunted round the place and found the parts to put the engine of my 68 Mustang back together, Francie had been washing dishes in the oil pan and the pistons were under the bed, I wondered why it was so lumpy, so it took me most of a week to do fixing it up and then I had to get it in the Parlour so I could hang the engine from the ceiling and slide the Mustang under it, and that meant knocking the wall out under the window, but as soon as that was done and I did the fire damage where the fuel line come off and sprayed gas all over the headers then I guess it was no more than about three weeks before I set right off to find Francine.
Trouble was she went to Hollywood by mistake while I headed north to Horseville Illinois.
Horseville had changed from when Gerry Frankel made his pornos, the derelict shops were gone and replaced with a great row of half built whore houses, none of them finished and most of main street was levelled to make room for a parking lot which was just about empty, and the whole place had this feel like Armageddon had been and gone, see everyone went to Hollywood after fame and fortune, because when it was famous there was no whorehouse and when thy had the whore-houses were near built all the whores was gone.
I called in the Garage, “Where is everyone?” I asked.
“They all gone son, following the money,” An older guy with a grey beard announced when he came in the office after ten minutes of me ringing his bell.
“I’m looking for a girl,” I announced.
“Who ain’t,” he said, “Exceptin’ Homos.”
“Five five, blonde,” I said.
“Nope, there ain’t no girls left, whole dang place been took over by Homos.” he said dismissively, “Might as well call it HomosVille, you ain’t Homo are you son?”
“No Sir,” I agreed.
“Whole dang place is dying,” he said pretty sourly, “Hell even Gerry Frankel’s gone west to join Disney corp.”
“My girl came here to find some eight inch cocks.” I explained.
“Hell, you better find new girl son cause I tell you when they had an eight incher inside of them you and me’s going to flop round like a mop in a bucket in there.” he eyed me up, “Walt Garfield,” he introduced himself, “An you are?”
“Tony, Tony Meyer,” I agreed.
“Hell we already got a Mayor, you lookin for a job son?”
“Yep I guess, long as it ain’t ass fucking like some homo.” I said, “I done farm work and I fixed up my Mustang, new pistons, reground crank new headers.” I told him, never said about the fire though.
“Sam Regis needs a hand down his veterinarian place and I sure could use some help trying to fix some of the crap them Homo’s drive hell I even got a MR2 out back.”
“Right” I agreed, “I need someplace to sleep.”
“You got tilt back seats in the Mustang ain’t you?” he asked, and well he had a point.
“I’ll tell Sam you’re coming.” he said and he wandered off.
I glanced around his yard, he had a shiny Chevvy ‘Vette which I guessed was his and there was every lilly assed heap of crap from a VW microbus to a Nissan, I figured maybe helping the vet was a better career option than fixing some homo’s Japanese crap.
Sam was sure as hell glad to see me, he had this long dead cow in his shop and every fly east of silicon valley was a queueing up to get a piece of it.
“I can’t get in and I got a waiting list of Homos a mile long,” he said.
“You want a tractor with a back acter,” I said when I stood and looked, “Take the wall out and then you can get the cow out.”
How was I to know the wall was all that held the roof up.
“Why in the hell didn’t I think of that?” he said, “You get down Franco’s tool hire in Clarksonville and I’ll get the wall down.”
I never got to the end of his yard before he smacked the end wall with his sledge hammer and the whole dang lot collapsed.
“Guess I should have let you do it,” he suggested.
Luckily he’d been working outside so his veterinarian tools was ok but the shack was about finished.
“There anything valuable in there?” I asked.
“Propane cylinders,” he said, “But we can get them out.”
“Hell no burn the place down,” I said “Claim on the insurance,” so we did, hell you could smell the rotten meat and flies roasting in Clarksonville nigh on twenty miles away, how was I to know he never had no insurance?
Rick Nelson what owned the place came running, “Hell Sam I never meant it when I said burn the shack down.”
“Shucks Rick, seemed the best idea,” Sam agreed acting dumb.
“You better fix your kit in the blacksmiths shop.” Rick says so we goes over there.
It weren’t too bad, light and airy maybe where one of the roof sheets was gone missing but there was a forge all rusted and a great big bench and a huge vice.
“Got me a backlog of Homos,” he said, “You any good at sewing son?”
“No,” I said.
“You do the cutting then,” he says.
“What if I get it wrong?” I asked.
“Do I look like I care?” he asked, “You got a knife?”
That’s how I become an apprenticed plastic surgeon.
First job I got was sorting silicon rubber tits, they come in pairs first off but Sam just had em all chucked in a sack, ok they all had sizes marked, like D, DD and Big, but some was pointy and some rounded and well old Sam never gave a damn.
“Ain’t we supposed to sort of numb them,” I asked, Sam nodded, “Stretch the skin some,” he nodded, “Get scrubbed up?” he pointed to the horse trough.
“Hell what they expect for ninety nine, ninety nine?” he asked, “Anyway you set?” he asked.
“Sure,” I agreed.
“Right here’s the list you get on the cellphone and get em organised.” he suggested.
“You got blood transfusion stuff?” I asked.
“Sure I got tubes, go get a porker off of Rick just in case.” he suggested.
I was fixing to do as he said when a VW beetle full of Homos turned up, you know all yellow paint and lowered suspension and flower power stickers and that, this guy climbs out in platform soles and leather pants and that, “Hello, is this Mid West Implants,” he asked and when Sam nodded he asked, “Can you fit my friend Nigel in please,” he said like he was that Jonny English guy out the James Bond movies or something, “Only we would like to get to Hollywood before next year.”
“Sure,” Sam says, “You come back around five and he’ll be ready.”
This guy had been growing his hair like girl length to the shoulders, natural blonde, least aways it matched his beard and moustache, but he was a scrawny little guy, probably Mexican.
“What’s it to be then son,” Sam asked as the other guys drove away.”
“Like medium?” he asked awkwardly, not knowing as Sam only had D, DD and real big sizes in stock.
“Okey Dokey, then you get your shirt off and come right on in.” Sam said, “You got cash?”
“Yes, sir,” The guy says and he hands over two fifties, Sam hands me one, sticks the other in the back pocket of his Levis and took his craft knife from his back pocket, and do you know the guy faints, yeah carump, right down in a heap.
We hauled him on the bench and Sam started cutting, “You got a pair of pointy DD’s in that sack.” Sam asked.
“Well there’s two, wouldn’t call them a pair though.” I replied.
“Two was a pair when did my schooling,” Sam said, “Hand em over.”
The guy was bleeding all over the bench like a bad B grade horror movie, the flies started getting interested and Sam asked for the Tits, I handed them over and he sets em down in the oil and dust on the bench, and next thing he’s stuffing one under the guys skin, “Hey Sam that’s a right,” I says as he forces the silicon rubber in place.
“Who cares, they splay out better,” he said, “How you know anyways?”
“Marked R for right,” I says all innocent,
“Dumbass, that’s R for reject.” he set me straight, “That’s why we gets them for thirty cents a piece.” he chuckled, and then he says “Get my fishing box I wanna finish up,” so I went across and fetched the box he kept beside his fishing rod.
He chose the line carefully and taking a needle from the box he started sewing, it weren’t neat cos the skin was too tight by a half but with me pressing pretty soon it come together and the blood stopped bleeding mostly.
“Hey Homo wake up,” Sam hollered and he slapped that guy around the face.
“W’what,” he says, as he sort of shakes himself, “Oh my christ.” he wails.
“You want some cocaine or something,” Sam asked.
“Yeah!” he screams.
“Well there’s a dealer in Clarksonville, black guy, less they lynched him as well.” Sam joked, “You fixing on being a girl?”
“I’m not letting you do it,” he said, “You butcher!” he said as he hauled his tee shirt part way back on and he couldn’t get it over his tits.
“Look guy, what the hell do you expect for ninety nine dollars,” Sam asked, “Anyways you had your quarter hour.”
“I was fixing on a sex change.” he said.
“You done counselling?” Sam asked.
“No!” he said.
“Best not, might put you off,” Sam says, “Look tell you what I’ll put it on your tab ok?”
The guy stares at him through the agony, “How much?”
“Twenty dollars a month,” he said but before he could answer his Homo friends come back.
I had a brain-wave so I went and told them their mate had had his tits done and was after the whole deal, except he was two hundred dollars short, they seemed real interested, and quick as that they flashed out a pair of fifties each and said they’d be back in a while.
I flashed the bills at Sam, “You set girl?” he asked.
“I guess,” he said.
“Best get them pants off then.” he said, “Hop on the bench.” The guy slipped his pants and shorts down revealing a weenie about as big as your average rabbit has.
“Gee,” Sam said, “Micro surgery,” and he had the guy spread his legs while he found a wood block.
“Just put you out for a second son,” he says and he fetched a sledge hammer down, slipped the wood block under the guys balls and smashed the hammer right down smashing his balls to a pulp.
“Aieeeee phut,” the guy wailed before he passed out.
Next job was fixing up the blood pump, old Sam stunned the hog and we fixed some neoprene tube to a hand pump and stuck one end in the hog’s leg vein and fed the tube through a hole in the shack wall to the hand pump and on into the guys arm.
Next thing Sam got started,I tried to see what was happening but there was too much blood and Sam set to work with his pliers and knife and little clamps made from clothes pins and some cat gut from his fishing box and somehow he fashioned that cock skin into a cunt while I kept pumping that hand pump pumping from that hog in the yard through about ten yards of tube and into the guy’s arm to stop him bleeding to death.
“Hey, son get me a beer, will you?” Sam asked.
“What about the blood?” I asked.
“Nope rather have a beer,” he said, and he grinned, “I’ll pump you get a couple of buds,” he said.
We stood there enjoying a beer watching the Homo gurging away, while I kept pumping the blood.
“Say, won’t he get sick?” I asked, “All these flies and dirt and that.”
“Sure and some half million a year surgeon will fix him up on Medicare or Medicaid or some such, just as soon as he gets to the big city.” he says, “You want first poke?”
“Nope, I ain’t poking some bearded Homo even if he do have a cunt.” I said firmly.
“Well I ain’t neither, you seen Rick’s hound dog around?” he asked. Gee my mind near exploded, “Only he likes left overs, balls and that.”
The guy was still out cold as I shaved his face and do you know when I finished he never looked like a Homo at all, no he could have passed for a fifty year old washed up crack whore any day of the week.
Eventually we got finished. We chatted as we waited for the guy to come round.
“One time Homos was queueing up for me to fit them with tits and head off to be Shemale porno stars like Harry Bowvase,” Sam said. “See I got licenses to practice as a gender re-assigner.” he said and he pointed to a certificate in his fishing box.
“That ain’t English,” I said.
“It’s Somalian,” he replied, “I got it off Ebay.”
“Right,” I agreed, “So why?” I asked.
“I really hate Homos.” he said.
“Any girls around?” I asked.
“Well, yes and no,” he says, “There’s Gloria, but she’s mine.” he said, “She come for a boob job and I fell in love right away.”
“Right,” I agreed.
“You wana come to dinner?” he asked.
“Sure,” I agreed, wondering just how unsanitary his kitchen would be, but hell did I get a shock but first off we had to sort the Homo out, but with an elastoplast on his arm and a whole load of rag, old shirts mainly, round his crotch we fixed him up with an old mini dress and set him walking to meet his friends.
Gloria was glorious, as was Sam’s house, I hardly could believe it, like it was huge, about a quarter mile from Rick Nelsen’s place. and Gloria she looked like a movie star, all blonde and gorgeous and dressed like she was going to a film premiere.
“Gee Sam did you do Gloria’s, ah” I asked.
“No way boy, you don’t mess with perfection!” Sam announced, “See I been trying to retire for a year and more,” he says, “Sam wanted bigger tits so she could pull a millionaire, so I showed her my bank book and she fell in love with my cash as much as I loved her tits.”
“He’s real sweet,” Sam says.
“She’s a fantastic cook, and real neat around the house.” he explained while all the while staring at her tits.
“You get out of those work clothes right now Sam Regis,” she railed, “And you,” she said looking at me, “You better smarten up if you’re coming in my Dining room.”
Luckily I had a clean shirt and Levis in the car so I got myself smartened up, and headed right back.
“Walt said you was looking for a girl?” Sam said.
“My girl Francine, I said, “She come here looking for big titted Tranny Homos with eight inch cocks.”
“Are you sure you want to find her, she sounds very screwed up.” Gloria asked.
“I thought so,” I agreed.
“Have you tried Facebook.” Gloria asked.
It seemed ridiculously obvious, so Sam fired up his computer, and there she was, “Danged Chevette seized up, that Tony is as bad as a mechanic as he was in the sack.” was one of the most polite comments, I wouldn’t have minded except I never even checked the oil, maybe I should have, maybe that’s why it seized up, but that was two and a half weeks ago.
Dinner was amazing especially since Gloria had no warning I was coming, roast duck with all the trimmings and a few pellets left in where Sam shot it with bird shot, “You’re a lucky guy Sam,” I said when it was time to go home, well back to my Mustang to bed down for the night.
I couldn’t get no sleep every time I tried some big titted tran-sexual whore knocked my door and asked if wanted to poke it, it kind of got tedious after a while.
See ever since Harrie Bowvase topped the porno charts with his big silicon tits and eight inch cock, every wanna be big twitted homo in the US and most of Canada had come to Horse-ville to get themselves sorted out with Sam Regis’s discount rubber Tits.
Chuck in his discount gender reassignment, for the Homo’s what really wanted to be girls and the whole place was more Homo-ville than Horse-ville.
I helped Sam out next day, “Soon as I run out a rubber Tits that’s it,” he told me, “I tried everything, rusty knives, dead cow in the shack,” he said, “I even pulled the ads in Kansas rubber world, and Jerkie Girlies, but they still stopped a coming.
“Why don’t you get a swanky clinic and charge a bomb?” I asked.
“Hell no, have to be nice of I charged em up, only pleasure I gets is making ’em scream.” he said.
We done six Homos before noon, one had C cup tits done down New York, real fancy sort of saline, anyway forty minutes on and he had the real big ones fitted, I reckon we fitted two left Tits but Sam never bothered, anyways something went queer because we ended up with five DD’s and one big one and half a dozen D cup.
Still they kept coming, Sam put up a sign “Last Few DD’s and D’s $990.” hell he near started a riot, all them Homos living in half built whore houses and trying to earn a few dollars ass fucking when there weren’t no johns to poke them.
I got quite neat with the cat gut in the end, Sam said the stitches dissolved but he never said it would take maybe two hundred years, and then as time went on I booked in the Motel, the guy never had no one wanting a whole night before, and I got my stuff laundered and life weren’t so bad.
Only thing was getting laid and Homo ass fucking don’t do it for me.
We had a bit of a celebration on Friday when we shoved the last pair D size tit rubbers in a girl what worked down the five and dime, Sam promised her he’d do her some time and he decided she would be the very last, hell he even scrubbed up and used a new knife blade and everything, he never even charged her seeing she was a girl, just done a deal so’s I could fuck her a couple of times a night and four times on Saturday and Sunday for the next week which was real good of him, except she been letting eight inch cocked big titted tranny homos poke her so I was like a mop in a bucket when I was inside of her.
She was called Linda, her husband weren’t too happy at me poking her but he poked her ass anyway so when he found out he was ok.
That was that, after Linda, I just helped Sam tidy stuff up, we pumped that hog dry and sold him to some Mooslimbs as Hallal meat, fixed the roof, cleaned the place up and we left a useable blacksmiths shop where Sam could play with his sledge hammer fixing stuff that weren’t broke till he tried fixing it.
Walt Garfield had some work when Sam had to let me go, but hell fixing Jap stuff what ain’t never been over 55 MPH ain’t mans work, so I said my goodbyes.
There was about twenty Homos outside Sam’s shack when I went for a look-see.
“Hey, what you gotta do to get Tits round here?” this guy in leather pants with a zip right around the ass asked.
“Ah,” I said seeing a way to make a buck, “I got some places writ down, I’ll get back to you.”
I went round Sam’s, Gloria let me in and she listened real hard.
“Sammy,” she said, “We could do a franchise,”
I already said she could have her Tits on the advert.
“Look Sam, you been good to me,” I tells him, “If you lend me your name I’ll do all the work and split the profits fifty fifty.”
“Yeah,” he says real bored, “Who wants a ninety nine dollar Tits for homo’s franchise.”
“No.” I says, “The horse-ville look, hell rich city slicker Homos would pay two, three hundred dollars for Tits.”
“If you charged a thousand they would think it was a better quality,” Gloria suggested.
“Hell five hundred basic, thousand silver and maybe fifteen hundred gold de luxe.” Sam said.
I never hit the sack that night, I e-mailed every breast enhancement joint, thats Homo speak for rubber implant Tits, every one from Newfoundland to the Baja peninsula, even emailed the one out in Alaska Sarah Palin needs to go to, and then ping them replies started coming in.
Hell with no up front costs just a five per cent skim and as many pictures of Gloria’s Tits as they could use those guys started signing up like flies round a dead hog.
“You best start checking those guys out make sure we ain’t getting ripped off.” Sam says. “Best get a better car.”
“Better car, right yeah,” I agreed, “I guess an Edelbrock and skim the heads.” I says.
“Hell no a GT40,” he says, “You know the LeMans racer.” but hell me and that Mustang been through more than most marriages so no way was it getting dumped.
Gloria suggested I start checking joints in Hollywood, so when I figured that’s where Francine had gone I headed right down, it took a while, dang car only done around eight to a gallon but in the end I cruised down the main street eye-balling the whores and then I booked a room and checked out the Tit joints.
They was easy enough to spot, what with Gloria’s Tits on the posters, “Get noticed!” it said.
I guess it was fate but the first week I was there I saw a brand new porno flick and there was my Francine wearing a black strap on and nothing else ass fucking a big titted tranny Homo in a leather skirt.
I tracked down the studio next day and there she was on set where some gay director in leather pants was directing a scene with her and a big ugly Homo with Sam’s rubber tits and his cock skin all filled with rubber was trying to poke her, “Oh it’s too big!” as this big titted Homo tried to poke her with eight inches of neoprene or polystyrene or some such rammed under his prick skin.
“It’s too big,” she said, “It’s too fucking big you rubber titted rubber cocked moron.”
“Cut, stick to the script ducky,” he says.
“Ass hole, if she says its too big its too big,” I shouts.
“Get him out of here,” the director guy shouts, “This is a redneck free zone.”
Francine wasn’t having it though “Tony, you came for me!” she wailed and she headed right for me, except her knickers were round her ankles and she went down, full length, splat.
I scooped her up pretty dang quick, “I missed you honey,” I said and I kissed her.
“Tony,” she said, “You wanna loosen me up maybe so I can take twelve inches.”
“Sure doll, you stop them pills and throw away that coil and leave off the condoms I’ll get you stretched so wide you’d get a hogs snout in there.” I promised her, and I stuck my tongue down her throat.
“Action,” that director shouted, he must have known we was going to fuck, but he never fixed that I hadn’t hardly fucked for a week and when I pulled out after eight pokes I guess he was amazed at the spunk blob what splattered the camera.
He must have been impressed, hell he kept us busy near all afternoon, fucking this way and that still it weren’t no hardship and when I was right out a spunk I lay quiet and told her.
“Hell if I could fix you a set of solid lifters I’d love you more than my Mustang.”
“You already re bored me,” she says, “I guess we better get married.”
I thought a moment, then I pictured her mom snapping the hogs neck last thanksgiving and I agreed right there and then.
We go back to Horse-ville pretty often, they elected me Mayor on account of my name, and I was fixing to get the town name spelled right like Whores-ville, but no one don’t care and we got a real swell place, it was built for whore house before the boom went bust so we got it for a song and fixed it ourselves with a real swell corrugated iron roof and that and also there’s a real neat dungeon and hooks all over the place where junior can hang his aeroplanes when he comes along and now Francine just dreams of eight inch cocks while she milks my six incher like a pro.
To be continued? You choose, give some feedback ok.
Postscript July 2015. No feedback so no part 2