Date: Mon, 10 Apr 2017 23:32:00 -0700
From: Rottweiler Toilet <rottweilertoilet@gmail.com>
Subject: Rottweiler Toilet P2

Rottweiler Toilet

(M/M) [Gay]: Bestiality; Scat; Gloryhole; Gangbang; Watersports

Consider donating to Nifty if you enjoy (and if you're here, you do) this
kind of writing.  Stay nasty out there, mates and gals.  Scat is plenty
kinky, and that's the focus of our writing.  There already is and will be
plenty of it, but I found that it was rare to read material on animal scat
play.  This'll absolutely disgust some of you.  But some will just get
hungry.

If you're in the minority that wants to sit on the lowest end of the totem
pole and be a human doggie bag, this one's for you.   E-mail me at
rottweilertoilet@gmail.com if you want to talk raunch, human and animal.
And by all means, please send me pics of you or your slave's next meals.
After all, eating is a shared experience.

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I burped.

The heady smell of dogshit filled my mouth.  I tasted master's in there
somewhere, too.  I was in the shower, obediently administering myself an
enema, while master looked on.  I had just eaten a full breakfast made
exclusively of waste: a dog-bowl chock-full of fresh Rottweiler shit, and
master's pasty, creamy shit right afterwards, directly from his swollen
rectum.

Of course, I took great pleasure in my service.  It wasn't always this way,
but I had grown accustomed to eating shit for years now, and especially
savored the different textures and flavors of animal shit, and especially
dogshit.  Or pigshit, my second favorite.  Or cowshit.  Donkey shit.  I've
had zebra, too.  Elephant on the rare occasion, but they tend to produce a
week's worth of meals in a single sitting.   Sometimes I like them thick
and chewy, like horse shit, or sloppy and syrupy, almost like a slurry, a
filthy muck-like gravy to suck out of a hole.

Yeah, I'm a shit pig.

Men see me grasping hungrily at a thick, masculine dog's haunches, eagerly
smelling, licking, kissing, using my small hands to try and steady its
puckered asshole, hoping eagerly for my next hot meal, even a warm snack to
tide me over between my scheduled feedings.  They watch on, and wrinkle
their noses in disgust, and even laugh, but that makes it all the hotter.
My place isn't to stop their laughter, to tease or taunt them.  I'm a
toilet, and my mouth is for waste disposal.  Whether or not they laugh as I
writhe desperately behind a fat Great Dane asshole or a mud-slicked,
shit-covered pig rectum or one of masters' many stallions... well, it's
irrelevant.  I'll happily eat it all the same, and if they want to add to
the pot, my mouth is open.

I fill myself to the brim, then empty out.  Master is watching the entire
time, as he always does with enemas.  He prefers that I administer them
myself, as there is an element of humiliation to be enjoyed for the both of
us, but today is about expediency.  On the first pass, I manage to flush
out most of my gutload, a few thicker chunks of shit, and I look at master,
unsure if I am to be commanded to redigest them, but he says nothing.  I
pick them up, flushing them in the toilet, and lick my fingers clean.
Master laughs.

I perform a total of three passes, and master licks his finger and dips it
into my ass, wriggling around.  He then slips out quietly, and I am
commanded to get out of the shower and dry off.  By now, I was finally
soft.  I spent most feedings hard as a rock, and swallowing was usually my
only chance to come other than through fucking.  I was never to masturbate,
even anally, so my lower body was off-limits, unless I was catching
something to redigest.  The first month was the hardest, but master managed
to make it work.  Eating Tank's dogshit for every meal was usually the
sexual highlight of the day, and his bowel movements were the source of
most of my orgasms, especially the last two or three mouthfuls.  A sense of
accomplishment always washed over me as I rubbed my belly, swollen from its
putrid and happy contents.

Tonight was something special, though.  I hungered, curiously, as I hadn't
come from today's feeding.  Did master want me to wait until evening for
some action?  Or...?

"C'mere, buddy... let's get these on you," master whispered.

Collar and leash.  One of my favorites.  Toilets don't generally require
collars and leashes, and these implements are really more for pet play
lifestylers, but it did mean that I was to be led around as master's
property in sight of other people, so I was excited.  I held my neck out
eagerly as the thick leather collar was tightened around my neck.  He gave
it a tug or two, and then attached the leather leash to it.

The collar was unnamed.  Some toilets like to be branded or tagged, but
master preferred a plain old thick leather collar.  It was well-worn,
stained and smattered with the color of shit, and had seen quite a bit of
sperm in its lifetime, all of which I tried to do my best to lick up.
Otherwise, I was naked.  And that was apparently enough.

"Alright."  Master checked his watch.  "Let's get goin', buddy."

He wrapped a towel around me and ushered me into his truck, where I laid
down flat in the backseat.  Tank hopped into the frontseat, and master
attached our collars together, tied taut around the car seat headrest.  I
rubbed Tank's haunches as he sat panting.  I didn't ask master what his
plans for the evening were, I trusted that he knew what was best for me.
He had always found creative ways to make me swallow creative things, so I
was jittering with excitement.  We started driving.

I expected the drive to take a few hours, but no.  We drove, and drove and
drove.  Around four hours in, Tank started whining.  Master pulled off to
the side of the road and without a word, my lips enveloped Rottweiler
asshole.  I chewed, savored, moaned, and swallowed.  I made out with his
dirty dogshit-stained hole, and then licked my lips clean of the gritty,
slimy dogscum.  After that, we drove another three or four hours, and
finally arrived.

It was a big warehouse of some kind, as remote as you could expect.  Trucks
were lined up outside, and by the time we arrived, the sun had gone down,
barely a glimmer of orange over the horizon.  Master got out and stretched,
unleashed the both of us, and pulled me outside, where I was naked sans a
towel wrapped around my shoulders.

As we entered, I saw tons of men.  Big, burly dudes, and hairy, like
master.  And I saw their slaves, who were smaller, shorter, paler.  Some
were shy, clinging to their handlers.  Most were naked.  Some of the boys
wore panties, some wore bondage gear, or collars, or were handcuffed behind
their backs.  More than a few were on all fours, collared alongside the
dogs their masters brought.

Speaking of dogs, there were too many to count.  Great danes, pitbulls,
malamutes, rottweilers, dobermans, mastiffs, to name a couple.  Every breed
known for size was present in one capacity or another, and I, like many
other shit bottoms, looked around with a mixture of anxiety and
exhilaration.

"You're gonna eat tonight, boy.  From every single fuckin' animal here,
y'understand?"
I nodded at master, licking my lips.  I didn't know exactly how many full
gutloads I could bear in my mouth, but I would try my absolute hardest to
stomach each and every single one, if I could.  My cock sprang to
attention.  Master led me quietly into one of the many back offices, which
were lit dimly by backlight.

As I entered, the stench of rank dogshit hit me full-on, making my cock
jump and my mouth water hungrily.  It was like a wall of the smell of
dogshit, it was so thick.  I started drooling.  I looked around, and there
were a lineup of blindfolded boys, each face buried in a dogbowl, each
presumably eating dogshit.  Different colors, different textures.  I hoped
I would get a variety of breeds to taste from tonight.

"Make sure to try and savor each bite, alright bud?"  Master spoke.

He then blindfolded me and led me a few steps forward, so that I was
aligned with everyone eating.  I could hear the scuffling sounds of boys
repositioning themselves to eat, the sound of licking lips, scraping
dogshit off the sides of dogbowls with the slurp and smack of hungry
tongues.  I could hear them moan, and I desperately wanted to join them.  I
could hear some of them utter whispers, hushed thank you's for the meals
and the sound of dogshit bowls being taken away and replaced by fuller,
heavier ones.  I began leaking pre at the thought of participating in such
a lineup.

I kneeled down, totally blind.  I heard the plasticky clack of a dogbowl
placed in front of me, and it was slid forward until the rim hit my chin.
I inhaled, and the overpowering odor of dogshit filled my nose to the brim,
and I almost choked.  It was strong and rich, dense, spicy, but masculine,
and I could tell from pushing against the plastic dogdish that it was a
huge gutload.  I licked my lips apprehensively, waiting for permission to
begin...
"Alright, boy, eat."

And that was all I needed.  I never liked to slam my head into shit,
because it often was a pain to clean up, and master demanded literally
everything be funneled into my mouth at least once.  I was trained to be a
neat shit eater, and to never let any of it go to waste. So I stuck my
tongue out and tasted it, and found that it was my favorite texture of
dogshit -that really gritty yet creamy, almost peanut-butter like texture,
but also dark and oily, bitter, and masculine.  I lifted my head slightly
to find that the dogshit pile must've sat almost a head high, so I took a
deep breath and began eating from the top.

I took my first big bite.  It was gritty, like ground up kibble with coffee
grounds, but also nice and slimy and wet.  I chewed, savoring the soft,
fudgey texture of dogshit, and used my tongue to press the mess against the
roof of my mouth, mixing it up with my saliva, which my mouth had started
producing heartily.  I moaned.  The mess turned runny quickly, and I
gargled it, and opened my mouth for my master to see.

"Flush."

I swallowed with a gigantic gulp.  Some boys near me moaned as they heard
me, and soon we were part of a lineup of the most depraved dinner buffet
imaginable, each of our cocks spewing precum.  I'm sure at least a handful
of these boys had already come from the blindfolded dogshit feeding
already, but like any dutiful shit-lover, they continued to eat, and eat,
and eat, until there was nothing left to digest.  I dug my mouth into my
pile, rolling more globs of shit into my mouth, under my tongue.  I chewed
heartily, strings of sticky shit saliva dribbling down my throat, and
licked my lips frequently.

"Flush."

I swallowed again.  In my bent-over position on all fours, I could feel the
shit traveling upwards into my stomach.  I took another bite, and then
another, until my mouth was full, bursting.  My cheeks were stretched with
as much dogshit as I could allow, my windpipe firmly caked with creamy,
gritty dog feces.

"Flush."

Again.

"Flush."

Again.  My master started working me into a rhythm, and on a few mouthfuls,
directed me to flush without even chewing.  It was a struggle to force such
a huge mouthful down, but I did it with great effort, and continued
eating.  Over and over, mouthful by mouthful, and toilet flush by toilet
flush, I ate my first bowl of dogshit, not even knowing what breed it was
from.

Finally, the dogbowl lay clean.  I pressed my face deeply into it and
started licking at the plastic, hoping to catch any stray streaks or bits
with my tongue.  All in all, it took my throat about fourteen flushes to
finally down that bowel movement, but I beamed proudly once I realized the
bowl was just about empty.

"That's a good boy," master said.

Another bowl was slid in front of me, bumping against my chin.  I knew it
was time for round two.  I dipped my tongue in again, and found that this
shit was much runnier -almost like pigshit, but I knew it came from some
handsome stud somewhere.  It was warm, almost hot, and I knew it must've
just been farmed minutes prior to being slid under my nose and mouth.  The
texture was a cross between... refried beans and diarrhea, but it was still
dogshit, and it tasted exactly like what I wanted.  So I dipped my face
down and began to slurp at it.  I filled my cheeks and rolled the putrid
mess around in my palate like mouthwash, using my tongue to press small
chunks of shit against my teeth into managable paste.

"Flush."

I swallowed.  The next time, master held the bowl up so that the runny,
soup-like liquid could funnel into my mouth, and he pulled my hair back so
that I was at the perfect angle to let it flow directly through my
sewerpipe throat, where it could meet the colon contents of some other
dog.  I just held my mouth open and let the viscuous liquid flow like a
river into my bowels.  When that was done, I began eating the
mostly-semi-solid shit again, and after another three or four flushes, the
bowl was taken away.

Yet another bowl was placed in front of me.  The shit on this third bowl
was a little cooler, and the chunks were nice and firm -they would require
a lot of chewing, which I loved.  The dogshit kept its shape, so I
swallowed a big firm log, fantasizing that it had been farmed from a fat
Great Dane.  I chewed and chewed, the cakey texture absolutely coating my
throat and inner cheeks, and then got the command to flush.  I did.  Again,
and again.  Sometimes, master forced me to swallow one of the firm dogshit
logs whole, which I did with great effort, but he was mostly accomodating,
and really wanted me to savor each chunk of shit as it rode my tongue into
my gullet.

This went on for a while.  After around the seventh bowl, I was started to
get seriously full.  Once in a while, I would burp, and taste the mess that
I had been eating through my nose and throat.  Fuck, it was hot.  It was a
hot reminder of the dinner that I had been gifted by my master and all
those strange, anonymous dog breeds.  And each bowl did taste a little
different.  Some were like a thick, sludge-like paste, and some were smooth
and luscious and coated your tongue in that wonderful oily dogshit flavor
you get fresh from the rectum.  Others were hard and firm and had to be
reconstituted with saliva from a toilet's mouth, and others yet were closer
to runny diarrhea than they were shit, but I swallowed them all.  I was
absolutely enamored with dogshit, and my cock spat pre-cum onto the floor
with each swallow.  As I shuffled around to eat, I felt like I had gained
ten pounds in my belly alone, and could feel the mashup of the dogshit mess
in my stomach gurn and churn as it struggled to digest the hearty meals my
master had given me.
"Flush."

I swallowed my last load, and then dropped my head into the plastic doggy
bowl and started licking the streaks clean.  My blindfold was removed, and
master commanded me to stand -I weakly got to my feet, knees sore from
being on all fours, eating.  I was covered in sweat and perpetually smelled
of dogshit, and looked at my master.

"You enjoy that, boy?" he asked, wryly.

I nodded obediently, then used my fingers to wipe up any smeared dogshit on
my cheeks and chin, then licked them clean.

"You make sure to taste everything, boy?"

Again, I nodded obediently.  There were a few boys around me still eating,
but none of them were familiar from what I skimmed coming in earlier.  I
guess some got full, but there was also a never-ending stream of dogshit,
served nice and hot fresh from the source in doggie bowls.  My stomach
gurgled as I began digesting my hour-long feast.

"Let's test that mouth then, shall we?"

Master led me by leash out of that office and into another much brighter,
whiter room.  This one was mostly empty, but had seven dogs.  They were all
different breeds, but I realized immediately -these were the dogs whose
droppings I just ate as my seven-course dinner.

I was dropped to my knees behind one, a Tibetan Mastiff.  He was huge!  He
stood about as high as I was when kneeling, which meant my mouth was at the
perfect height for access to his asshole.  Master pushed my face into his
butt, but I didn't need any encouragement -I stuffed my tongue as deep into
that dog ass as I could, and began dutifully cleaning.  I licked and
sucked, and the dog shuffled slightly, but not nervously.  He just let me
get to work.  I loved being toilet paper, especially to someone else's
animals.

"Which bowl does that taste like, boy?"

...fuck.

"Uhm.  Sir, it might b-"

Master pulled my leash hard, away from the dog's asshole.  I almost
choked.  I realized what game we were playing here -of the shit I had
eaten, I was to try and match up the flavors I found in the dog bowl with
the dirty, shit-smeared assholes of these seven dogs.

"Now, which bowl does that taste like, boy?  Taste it again."

I apprehensively leaned forward and started softly tonguing the Mastiff's
asshole again, this time almost searching for more shit.  My tongue, coated
in saliva, quickly cleaned out his insides so that there was only pink dog
rectum against my taste buds.  I took a deep breath and kissed his hole,
and tried to think back to the different textures and flavors of dogshit I
had eaten just moments before.  Honestly, it was hard to tell, but...

"Sir, this is the second bowl I had eaten, sir."

Master laughed.  Whether or not that was a good thing, I didn't know.
Inspecting my toilet paper tongue job, he ushered the Tibetan Mastiff out
and brought over another dog, this time a Saint Bernard, easily the
thickest dog I have ever seen.  His dirty hole was swollen and caked with
dogshit, so this tasting menu would be easier than the last one.  I dug in,
and-

"Wait, toilet.  Thank your feeder for his meal first.  Learn some fucking
manners."

I paused and ruffled the dog's head.  He was huge, and drooling.
Underneath all that fur lay a muscular stud dog, and I pet him and cooed at
him, thanking him for the delicious meal.  The stud must've been a solid
280 lb., an absolutely gargantuan dog, and I felt like the biggest dogshit
pile must've been his, so I kept that in mind as I got ready to really
taste inbetween his haunches.

When master was satisfied, I knelt behind him and began to eat out his
shit-stained dog hole.  It was thick and grainy, but I made sure to try to
clean as much as possible to narrow down my choices.  Bigger dogs tend to
have nice, wide assholes to stick your tongue in almost fully, and I got
mine a couple inches deep, collecting about a half-mouthful of shit off his
rectal passage and sloppy dog anus.

"Sir, this is bowl number five, sir."

Master ushered the Saint Bernard away and brought in another Rottweiler,
but it wasn't Tank.  I pet him, thanked him for the delicious meal, and got
to rimming right away.  I closed my eyes to really taste, trying to
remember the textures, liquid or runny, the flavors, oily or dark or
buttery or masculine or creamy and soft.

"Sir, this is bowl number... four sir."

As this progressed, I was getting more and more unsure.  In many ways, I
was not expecting to remember the flavor of the dogshit I had been eating,
and I felt a sense of shame wash over me that I couldn't match up my meals
with the beautiful animals that had been kind enough to feed them to me.
The last few were almost guesswork, and I was worried about disappointing
master.  I finished cleaning up the second-to-last dog with my mouth, a
bright Great Dane with a beautifully mottled pink and white asshole, but it
was a tossup between the last two possible bowls I had eaten from.

"Sir, I... sir, I'm sorry, I wasn't paying enough attention to the flavor,
even after you told me to, sir.  I'm sorry.  I think it's bowl number
one... sir..."

Master frowned.  I hated upsetting master.  He had set up this beautiful
feeding day for me, giving me a buffet of my favorite meals, and I wasn't
even paying close enough attention to my feeders to really understand,
really taste their dogshit.  I hung my head in shame.

"I expected more from you, buddy.  Maybe you're just not cut out for-"

"No, sir!"  I exclaimed, with panic and worry.  "Please no, I love Tank, I
love dogs, this has been a really nice meal and I just... I'm sorry.  I'm
sorry your toilet failed you sir, please give me another chance!  I'll eat
anything, just please let me try again..."

Master smirked.  And not a laughter smirk, but an evil smirk.  He called
those dogs in and told me to bend over.

"If you can't eat dogshit like a proper toilet, at least get these poor
boys off.  Christ... what am I gonna do with you..."

I knew what was coming and I bent over, using my hands to spread my ass
cheeks as wide as possible for my upcoming sex partners.  Master made the
biggest dog, the Saint Bernard, go first.  While I was plenty used to being
a knotwarmer for my master's rottweiler, Tank, this Saint Bernard's cock
was another size entirely.  His cock must've been as thick as a beer
bottle, and his knot was easily as big as master's fist, if not bigger.  He
ripped his cock through my ass like a hot knife through butter and began
churning my insides in earnest.  I tried my best to relax and bear down to
take him, but his cock was too much; I could barely feel myself flex around
it.  He stuffed himself deeply into me, swollen flat dogcock tip punching
my colon, and his heavy furry balls slapped against me with each thrust.

"Bitch, you better moan.  This performance is a fuckin' embarrassment for a
dogshit-swallowing dogcunt like you.  Push that faggot pussy back, boy."

I moaned and grunted, sweating.  His knot stuffed itself excruciatingly
into my walls, and then kept going.  Hump, hump, hump.  The dog drooled all
over my back, pooling down on the floor in front of me.

"Ugh!  Uh, uh, uh, thank, uh, you, uh, sir, uh, ugh, ugh, ugh, uh!"  I
moaned in pain as his seemingly grapefruit-sized knot bashed against my
sphincter.  The pain was intense, but as my anal ring learned to open and
close around the fat dogcock sliding into my internal organs,
tingling waves of pleasure started to hit me.  The knot mashed in, tugged
hard, and I pushed hard to shit it out.  There was a brief second of my ass
closing around just his shaft before the knot surged deep into my bowels
again.  In, and out, in and out, and then he came, until my leaky hole was
a gaming, dog-cum filled mess.

And then each dog took their turn with me.  By the end of the train, I had
seven full dog loads in my bowels, but I unfortunately couldn't hold it in,
my pussy was too loose from having knots ripped in and out of them.  Master
slid a dog bowl under my ass and told me to push, so on weak knees, I squat
over it and spread my cheeks and bore down.

A flood of watery, slimy dog cum gurgled out of my ass, as well as a couple
bits of shit, probably from the breakfast I ate from Tank and my master,
and the snack of dogshit I swallowed from the road trip's short potty
break.  It almost filled the dog bowl to the brim, and without a moment of
hesitation I opened my mouth for my master to pour it down my throat.

I savored the mixed fluids of those now-spent dogs, remembering the
slapping of their fat, furry balls against mine as they fucked my asshole
into a gaping dogcunt.  The bowl was tilted into my mouth until both dogcum
and dogshit were fully consumed, and I licked the bowl clad for scads of
animal shit and sperm.  By now, my stomach was pretty full, of the mixed
mounds of dogshit I had eaten over the course of the early evening, topped
off with a solid few cups of dog spoo, which was a real treat for dessert.
My hole was soft and raw, having been ravaged by a train of big stud dogs,
and exhausted, I curled into the fetal position in a puddle of mixed fluids
and sweat, covered in sticky dog fur, drool puddling around my neck and
mouth.

My leash was yanked so that I was standing upright, albeit on shaky legs
and knees.  My mouth was a mess, my gums caked with dogshit from the
various animals that had just inseminated me, and even that mixture of
animal fluids was just fed back to my already bulging stomach through my
mouth.  My master brought over a sports bottle of what I assumed was water,
but ended up being dog piss, telling me to rehydrate.  I complied, downing
the entire bottle ravenously, despite its salty, rancid flavor.  It had
probably been aged about three days, but I was happy to have something to
drink, washing away the little bits and chunks of random dogshit remnants
in my mouth.

"Th-thank you for the meal, sir, it was delici-"

Before I could finish, master wrapped one of his strong hands around my
mouth and squeezed, so that I couldn't even make a muffled noise.

"Boy, your night's just beginning.  Got your pussy all loosened up now.
You might be full, but there's still plenty of space to pack that faggot
twat up with dogshit.   You understand?"
My eyes opened wide, mostly in excitement.  Repacking animal shit into my
own bowels?  Not knowing what species it came from, and eating, savoring,
swallowing it?  Stuffing my rectum and colon full of subhuman, fermenting
animal scum, and then holding it in for days just to enjoy it for breakfast
for the weekend? Fucking depraved.  But I'm sure master saw the excitement
in my eyes, and he let his grip around my mouth go.  I was once again
blindfolded, and pulled by leash down a flight of stairs, where once again,
the stench of dogshit hit me like a wall of bricks.
Amidst all the groaning and moaning and the huffing and panting of dogs was
the clank of metal equipment.  Master carefully inserted my body into the
proper slots, so that I was in the same feeding position as earlier, but
restrained: my ass was lifted high up into the air, and my hands tied,
immobile, behind my back.  My face was also firmly locked into a rack, my
blindfold still on, and a speculum was inserted into my mouth, forcing it
open.  My legs were spread wide and sat on comfortable kneepads, and my
torso was supported in a leather sling, but my belly was open and allowed
to distend to the ground.

"We've got a menu for you tonight, buddy," an unknown voice said.

"You're gonna start with your master's dog, Tank.  We're gonna pack that
into you, and then push it in with one of these bad boys."

I felt a dildo slap against my face.  I licked and suckled at the tip.  It
was long, and ridged.  I could tell it was a horse dildo, and because it
was difficult to get my mouth around, I could tell it was at least as wide
as a coke can.  It also stank of dogshit.  I figured that this was used to
push shit nice and deep into an eager shit-bottom's colon, even deeper into
their small intestines.  And I knew this would go in phases.  At the end of
the night, I would be filled with as much dogshit as a human being could
feasibly be stuffed with. and I figured I would likely add what I was
digesting to the pot.

"So, kid.  We're gonna stuff you full.  I got some buckets of kennel
dogshit that've been fermenting for days, weeks even.  Sound good?"

I nodded eagerly at the stranger's voice.  It was gruff and handsome, but
domineering.  It was ... kind of hot, despite not being able to see
anything, and certainly not being able to smell anything other than rank
dogshit.

"Here's your first taste.  This is six day old pitbull shit.  Open up."

I opened my mouth and a gloved hand smeared a solid handful of dirty,
gritty dogshit slurry into my mouth.  He rubbed it into my gums, under my
tongue, behind my tonsils.  It was cold and tasted foul, lacking the fresh,
hot texture of dogshit enjoyed by sitting under a dog taking his own bowel
movement.  It tasted a mess, and I retched slightly, but managed to swallow
a few chunks of the acrid paste down.

"Tastes nice, doesn't it?"

I nodded.

"Well let's get started, then."

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This is my first written story, so go ahead and flush some feedback down my
throat.  If there's interest, I'll write up the continuation and post it to
Nifty.  The last part is coming.