Chapter 5: Dog Show Girl

A young friend of mine, when he heard I was surveying the subject of bestiality, suggested that I check out a freaky chick of his acquaintance who had been known to perform wild stunts with a small dog at parties and other social gatherings. I looked into the matter and came across Julia, a beautiful twentyish fugitive from the love-generation. She had dropped out of high school and split from home at seventeen and in the two or three years since then had set some kind of world's record for number and variety of sexual couplings on her whirlwind wanderings--making the grand tour of hippy colonies and crash-pads from coast to coast. She was presently reported to be living as a "voluntary white slave" with a pair of unemployed black poets.

Case 5

Julia C.

I was introduced to Julia in a luncheonette booth where she was surrounded by a motley collection of her friends and fans of all ages, sexes and colors.

"I hear you wanted to interview me," she said.

"What's it for?" somebody asked, "Indoor Sports Illustrated?"

They all seemed to think that was pretty funny. I didn't know just how to approach the subject I had in mind to her. Even without the crowd in attendance and in spite of her wild reputation, I couldn't very well ask a strange girl bluntly, "Is it true that you fuck dogs at parties?"

I tried to arrange a private interview session with her for a later time but the best I could get from her in her dreamy high condition was an invitation to "see me at the bash tonight." I figured I'd have to settle for that for the time being. At the "bash" maybe I'd be able to corner her and get her talking, or maybe I'd even get to see her do her famous dog act in person if I was lucky.

It turned out to be no ordinary party but a staged affair, specially set up to be filmed for an underground movie. I felt a bit freaky myself when I walked in, being the only one present in a business suit. The costumes generally were pretty far over the line on the nude side--with most of the girls covered more by body paint, spangles and pasted-on flowers than by clothes. The music was pounding--lights flashing--and everyone dutifully writhing about in primitive dance movements while a couple of hairy cameramen roamed the floor, shooting orgiastic close-ups of them all, mostly at tit and crotch-level.

I found Julia stretched out flat in a corner, under a cloud of blue pot-smoke of her own making.

"Why aren't you in the movie?" I said, inhaling a cautious noseful of her heady exhaust fumes.

She laughed dreamily. Her big beautiful eyes didn't seem to be quite focusing on me. "My big scene comes later," she said. "Stick around."

She had on an oversized T-shirt like a minidress, with a man's necktie around the waist as a sash. I got the impression that she was wearing nothing at all underneath it, but I couldn't be sure in the dim light. Then something stirred behind her and I noticed for the first time a little dirty-gray mop of a poodle lying there. He was staring up at me with one wide blurry eye and I would have sworn that the dog was as stoned as she was.

"You brought your dog along I see," I said,

"That's what you came for, isn't it?" she said, "to see the dog act?"

I laughed nervously. "Did they tell you the subject of my book?"

"Bestial practices, isn't it? That's my thing, baby. Me and Sir Clarence."

"Er--what do you--you and Clarence--how do you--?" I didn't know quite how to phrase the question.

"Just hold your water--you'll see for yourself how," she said.

"Are they actually going to film you and the dog--er--in action?" I asked.

"Shit yeah. Why not? It's the grand technicolor climax of the whole motherfucking movie."

"Aren't you afraid of getting in trouble by putting yourself on record that way? Making it with a dog is sort of illegal you know."

She laughed and patted Clarence's belly. "Everything I do is illegal. It's the only way to live." She punctuated her point by blowing a cloud of highly-illegal smoke up into my face.

Just then a very large Afro-American bruiser appeared from nowhere and gave me what I took to be an unfriendly size-up. I figured he must be one of the poet slave-masters I'd heard about, although he looked more like a middle line-backer than a bard. He snapped his fingers at Julia. "Come on--up. Let's go. They're ready for you and you ain't ready."

She sprang up and the dog popped up with her. The black man took hold of her T-shirt and peeled it up over her head, which left her naked as a jaybird just as I expected. Both her breasts- -round and firm and beautiful--had been painted blue, and there were arrows running down from them across her ribs and belly, pointing towards her pussy, which was shaved bald. Otherwise there was just acres and acres of beautiful golden naked skin, as far as the eye could see.

Her black master clapped a possessive hand onto her ass and said harshly, "You better not fuck up the deal, baby, or you know what you get!"

She picked up the poodle and hugged it to her breasts. "He'll be all right tonight," she said. "He's too stoned to be scared. We'll give them a complete show, don't worry."

"Oh, I ain't worrying, baby," he said, giving her ass cheek a hard grab and a twist. "I leave that to you."

The music had quit now and the lights all of a sudden came up brighter. "We're ready for the dog-act," somebody yelled out.

The black man slapped Julia's ass and she gave me a wink and went skipping off into the bright light, clutching her woolly lover tight to her with his head perched up between her bobbing boobs.

I moved off to find myself a seat where I could be out of the way of the bustling technicians but still get a good ring-side view of whatever act of shameless bestiality was about to unfold.

A character with a handlebar mustache and a purple scarf who I took to be the director was at center-stage under a cloud of cigar smoke.

"Right here," he yelled at Julia in a startling, near-soprano voice. "The camera's centered on this spot, so keep your dirtiest action in this area, give or take a yard or two."

Julia moved into the light beside him and they went into a conference together, with the director patting and stroking either the dog's head or one of her blue boobs--it was hard to tell which from where I stood. Then he backed off, leaving her there alone with her little dog. The other kids took positions on the floor around her in a semi-circle, acting the part of her audience.

"Okay, baby," the director called out. "As soon as the camera's rolling you just go into your thing. We'll keep on shooting continuously--two cameras covering the whole scene--long shot and close-up--let's get it all in one take."

"You better!" she said. "Clarence might not hold up if you need retakes. He's a one-shot man."

The director held up his hand and yelled, "Okay, we're rolling--and GO!"

Julia set the dog down and he trotted away from her, out of the circle of light. Then she took a cigarette that someone handed her and struck a "prostitute on a street-corner" pose, with hand on out-thrust hip.

A boy came walking in, wearing a large cardboard fig-leaf. He stopped, eyed Julia up and down, circled around her once, and then raised up his fig-leaf and flipped his red-painted prick at her in a hip-bump.

She put her nose in the air and turned away from him in scorn. He shrugged, bumped his blue ass towards her disdainfully and moved away.

Then Lord Clarence the poodle came high-stepping in. He stopped just as the boy had done, cocked his head and looked her over, and then circled around her once. Julia stood absolutely still, ignoring him altogether.

Clarence moved in close to her feet, sniffed around her for a bit and then all of a sudden he lifted his hind leg, assumed the classic curbside posture, and began pissing against her ankle. She still held her position but turned her head and glanced down. The dog went on pissing nonchalantly until he was finished and then moved away again and sat down nearby to watch her.

Julia looked down at the puddle she was standing in now and she wiggled her toes about sloshing them in the piss-pool. Then she bent down and dipped her hands into it and began dabbing her ear-lobes and neck and boobs and underarms as if it were some kind of dainty perfume. Finally she put a finger into her mouth and licked it, sampling the flavor, and she smiled down approvingly at Clarence. He sat up then in a begging position and began wagging his tail, and Julia turned sideways and wiggled her tail at him.

After that they circled around each other a couple more times and then Julia got down on hands and knees and they moved in close and sniffed each other's noses. Clarence ran around behind her and took a sniff of her ass, and then she bent down and did the same thing to him. They were making quite a production out of it. It was going to be something brand new for the movies, by all indications. And the real action hadn't even begun yet. So far I'd have given it a 'R' rating--not recommended for children under sixteen.

But things got pretty 'X'y from there on. Clarence scurried around behind her again and began licking away at her rear-end-- asshole, cunt, the works. After a little bit of that action they reversed positions once again and she went to work on the little mutt's hindquarters.

The boys with the cameras had moved in now. No more long shots. Everything would be in full-screen close-ups from here on apparently. So I moved in myself, just beyond the circle of prop spectators, to be sure I didn't miss any of the action myself.

The little poodle was in a sort of spread-legged squat, his hind legs trembling, as Julia's pretty pink tongue worked up under the cleft of his tail-end. Then she flopped over suddenly onto her back, grabbed onto Clarence and pulled him up over her face. With his hind legs straddling her cheeks, she proceeded to rain kisses and lip-nuzzlings on his little prick, which didn't stay little very long thereafter. She sucked him up to a respectable dog-sized erection and then she did a quick flip over onto her back and twisted herself around while little Lord Clarence stood patiently by, quivering all over in anticipation of the delights to come. She popped open her legs with a dramatic flourish, aiming her split pussy point-blank at the dog and into the peering eyes of the floor-level cameras.

She whistled softly and snapped her fingers and Clarence gave a little answering yip and then leaped forward up into the V of her sprawled crotch. He climbed up over her belly with his front paws, his prick straining forward into the cleft below, his tail wagging furiously.

"Go, man," the director called out, clapping his hands. Already he was counting up his profits from this history-making film epic that he saw happening before his very cameras.

But Lord Clarence needed no director to urge him on at this point. He knew his part and carried it through without a hitch. Julia didn't have to guide him into her. She only laid a hand on the fuzzy topknot of his head and patted him affectionately while he squirmed his slim little butt and wormed his out-thrust prick up into the ready receptacle of her slit. As soon as he was well up inside he began a fast humping, pounding a furious tattoo against her.