Chapter 1: We're Off to Squeeze the Wizard

[This part of the story is in Sepiatone. Please adjust your monitor accordingly.]

The girl stood in the shaft of sunlight streaming through the window. She admired her naked, one-day-short-of-eighteen-year-old body in the full length mirror. She reached up and touched her cone-shaped breasts. The small, but very sensitive nipples popped up under her fingertips, and she smiled at herself.

Her left hand moved down her body, over her flat stomach and navel, to the patch of brown fur below. She ruffled the pubic hair with her fingers, barely touching the skin beneath.

She turned, admiring the image of herself in the mirror, until she heard voices coming through the open window.She stepped closer to the sill; not far enough for her to be seen, but far enough to look out.

The three hired hands were walking up toward the spigot in the back yard. They turned on the hose, and started washing off some of the Kansas dirt from their hands and arms.

"Looks like a storm's movin' in," the tall one remarked.

The short one nodded. "Sky's awful dark toward the west."

The fat one chimed in. "Hope it don't rain tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? What's tomorrow?" the tall one asked.

"Dorothy's birthday," the fat one replied. "What're you guys getting her for her birthday?"

"I got her birthday present right here," the short one grinned, grabbing at his crotch."

"What makes you think she wants such a little gift?" laughed the tall one.

"What makes you think it's so small?" the short one grinned back at him. "Besides. I know that's what she really wants. You've seen her walkin' around here in her short shorts and tube tops."

"Yeah!" the fat one nodded.

"Ever since she got hair on her thing," the short one continued, "she's been wantin' to use it bad. And now she's eighteen. No more jailbait."

Dorothy, standing in her room above them, smiled.

"Mebbe we all ought to give'r what she's been askin' for," the tall one said.

They all laughed, and turned to face west as a rumble of thunder sounded.

"Looks like a hard'un," the short one said. "We'd better get the tractor in."

They dashed off. Dorothy turned away from the window and lay back on her bed. She smiled to herself, thinking about the treat the guys were considering giving her for her birthday.As she thought about it, one hand drifted down to her lower lips. Her fingers traced the contours of her slit, feeling it open, blossoming. Her clit emerged, hot, hungry, demanding. She stroked it slowly, feeling a trickle of moisture begin to leak from her cunt.

"Mmmm," she moaned, as she thought, "Oh, for a tongue to stroke me..."

Then miraculously, there was a tongue. Warm, wet and willing.

She slid her fingers away as the tongue took over, rolling her clit like a marble in the mud.

"Oh, yes!" she cried, softly. "Oh yes... yesss... good boy... good Toto..."

The small, black dog looked up from her crotch briefly at his name, then went back to his work.

Dorothy lay back, her fingers on her breasts, pinching her tender nipples.

"Oh, yes..."

A warm feeling spread from her groin, and tightened under her breastbone. She arched her back as the contractions began, her legs squeezing together as the dog scrambled away from her. She held her breath until the contractions slowed, then slowly released the air.

She curled up on the bed. Toto climbed up and lay beside her, as she dozed off into a light sleep.

"DOROTHY!"

The male voice's shout roused her from her slumber. Dorothy scrambled off the bed and threw on the first clothes she could find; a pair of cut-off blue jeans and a tee-shirt.

She looked around for Toto, but the little dog had disappeared.

She ran down the hall and down the stairs to the yard.

"Yes, Uncle?"

"Where's that little black beast of yours?" the angry-looking man asked.

"What's he done now?" Dorothy whined.

"It's the chickens again. That damned mutt of yours had better stop chasing my chickens around the coop, or I swear, I'll fry his ass for dinner."

Dorothy nodded. She turned away from her uncle so he couldn't see her sly smile. "Toto!" she shouted. "Toto! Come here, boy!"

The rap at the front door was sharp, insistent. Emily opened the door cautiously.

The woman at the door was dressed all in black; long skirts, high-necked, long-sleeved blouse. Emily wondered how she could bear to wear such garb in the heat of summer. The woman peered through the door opening at Emily. "Where is your niece, Emily?" she asked, her voice a grating squeak.

"She's out back, I believe. Why?"

"It's that dog of hers again," the elder lady groaned.

Emily nodded. "Won't you come in?" She opened the door wider, and the black-clad woman entered.

"Please have a seat," Emily said, false-cheerfully. "I'll find Dorothy for you."

Emily quickly left the room. "That mutt..." she muttered.

Dorothy hesitated before entering the room. She held her dog in her arms, stroking his head.

Finally steeling herself, she straightened her back and marched in to face the grim-faced woman.

The woman's face darkened as she saw Dorothy enter the room.

"That dog," she shrieked, "is a meanace! He keeps chasing my chickens!"

"Now, now," Emily chided. "I don't believe he means any harm. He's a very gentle dog."

"Gentle, hell," the woman growled. "You must not know what he does when he catches them."

Emily looked blank. The woman elaborated.

"He buggers them. Screws them up the arse."

Emily feigned shock. She fanned herself with her hand. "Oh, my," she whispered, and collapsed into a chair.

Dorothy set the dog down on the floor. Toto sat obediently at her feet.