Thursday, April 3, 2014

Work stuff, this might be a bore.

We've got Dragon Naturally Speaking Legal Edition now! 

My boss sat with me and showed me how to use it and it is amazing.  It's like creepy how well it understands my voice.  I'm a legal transcriptionist, it's my job, so you might think I ought to be worried about becoming obsolete but I do more than just take recorded dictation so no.  I've learned a lot about the kind of law this practice does and I've learned some real skills.  I do a lot of stuff, things a paralegal usually does.  I know probably I would still be valuable even if I never do any more transcribing.  I'd still be here.  We do mostly class action lawsuits.  I can't tell about any details about it because you might have seen our TV commercials depending on where you are (no, not the Mesothelioma cases).  But we really are getting more clients all the time.  Actually, being totally real, my boss is my dad's best buddy and that's how I got this job in the first place when I still had trouble showing up for work every day.  My boss and my dad play golf together.  When one of them buys a new tool, they both play with it and then the other one, either one, has to buy one too.  The same tool.  Every time.  And our families have been together for more than one Seder dinner.  You know, we're very close.  Since I was little.  So I am very grateful that my boss took the risk and gave me the opportunity to prove myself.  I don't think I am going to lose my job because of Dragon but who am I to assume?

...So that last paragraph was just random blabbering into this headset microphone just now.  I didn't edit it much because I realized how different it reads than how I write.  "Seeing" my speaking voice, I wonder if it changes how you think of me.  I'd like to know, if you feel like commenting.  Just curious.

So now I've put up a filth-free post.  I promise that won't become a habit.

Saturday, August 31, 2013

I'm okay!

Thank you to everyone who sent me those kind messages.  It's nice to be reminded there are people who care.  But I really am okay.  I nearly deleted that last post right after I wrote it.  Now I'm glad I left it up.  It's the first time I put some of those feelings into words, even just for myself.  But those feelings aren't new.  They've always been there.  So I'm okay.

I had a funny dream a couple nights ago.  I was in the washroom of a fast food place sitting on the toilet.  I saw a roach run past me and go behind the toilet, which sort of gave me a creepy feeling.  I leaned over to see if I could find the roach and I ended up on my hands and knees next to the toilet.  There were a few roaches behind the toilet but they were dead.  I picked them up anyway, one by one, and reached between my legs to push them into my vagina.  I felt like I didn't want to do that but I couldn't help it.  I wanted to feel dirty. 

So, this being a dream, my pants are not around my knees anymore, they're suddenly just gone.  And I'm crawling on the washroom floor, because now there are roaches scurrying everywhere.  I catch one and stuff it inside me, and then another, another, another, and I'm getting upset because they're hard to catch and I need them all...

That was the whole dream.  I didn't get to cum or anything.  I've never had an orgasm when I dream.  Would I do that for real?  I don't know.  I've surprised myself before.

Thursday, August 1, 2013

Down

This post isn't something that everyone will find stimulating.  I haven't written much because I've been troubled lately.  I've been thinking a lot about things that happened to me when I was younger.  Things that probably shaped me into the kind of person that does the things that I've written about on this blog.  It's really not good.

When I was young, I was damaged.  As a person.  Not physically damaged; I've done way more to hurt my body than anyone else ever did to me.  I mean me as the core of my being, the place where I think and feel from, where I separate me from the rest of the world.  That's where I'm damaged.  I'm the loaf of bread with a fuzzy oval of green mold on it.  I'm the pretty face with an unfortunate blemish.  Sure, she's nice, but there's something about her...  It's that kind of damage. 

Everyone tells me I'm beautiful in my individuality, but no, that's not realistic.  I am what I do, and I do what I've been conditioned to do.  I was made by my life's experiences, and there have been some particularly bad experiences.  I'm also a product of the defenses I've built up over time, many of which no longer make sense to me, but without them I wouldn't know how to interact with people anymore. 

I act out with my sexuality.  I find beauty in the world, so I seek the opposite.  Where flowers bloom, I'm attracted to dead leaves.  When butterflies sip nectar from the flowers, I seek worms.  But even these aren't good metaphors.  Better, when an animal squats to relieve itself of waste, I spread myself in invitation.  Go ahead and imagine that, and then imagine much, much darker.  In there, in that complete, corrupt darkness, somehow, I find my ecstasy. 

But I'm troubled now.  I wish for that ecstasy more strongly than ever, but as time has passed I've allowed fear to overcome my desire.  Fear of what?  Injury?  Death?  Discovery and humiliation?  I don't know.  I'm so fucked up I don't know what's natural to feel anymore.  I don't know who I am. 

Sorry to be a dark cloud today after not writing for so long, but I had to get that out.  I'll get better.  I promise I'll write something more fun next time.

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Finally some fun!

It was just getting light out Monday morning when I started driving home from work. It was overcast and gray and wet and my mind was mostly on getting some sleep. But as I drove I also began thinking about how bored I was. I really have been bored.

On the spur of the moment I decided to go have some fun. No idea what, but it's been way too long since I've had any. I had all day. I got on the Eisenhower and started heading west. Traffic was already slow and I wondered if I'd made a mistake but soon I was on I88, which was clear. Randomly I exited at Rt59 by Aurora, kept driving, and started looking around for something interesting. All of a sudden I was at Fox Valley Mall. I hadn't been there in many years. There's a road that rings the parking lots outside the mall. I drove slowly along the road, circling the mall a couple times, hoping something would catch my eye and wondering what kind of fun I can make for myself outside a mall that isn't open yet.

There's a greek restaurant on the west side of the mall. It has it's own building and it's own parking lot. The lot was empty. I drove around the back of the restaurant and saw a wooden enclosure where they keep their dumpster. But it was a pretty big enclosure for just a dumpster. I stopped and got out of the car to take a look. Could be interesting.

There were four dumpsters in the enclosure. Two for oil and grease, one for garbage, and one for recyclables (they're labeled). I like dumpsters. This whole enclosure is filthy. Little bits of garbage are all over the asphalt pavement and on the wooden walls. There's a shovel, a gray plastic garbage can, a stack of bricks, some firewood in a shed on one side. I guessed that everything customers wouldn't want to see is kept in there.

I wanted to play in the garbage. I've known for a long time that I can't keep pretending that I've changed and I don't need to do horrible things to myself anymore. I had to do something to make myself feel real again, and this was the time.

So I turned off the car and pulled the big wooden doors shut so I was fully shielded from view. I was taking a risk not knowing how soon the restaurant's kitchen staff would arrive, but I figured I had at least an hour. I took a deep breath and pressed on my crotch through my jeans. I was getting wet just from the anticipation of whatever might happen.

I got undressed, dropping my clothes on top of the stack of bricks, which seemed like the one relatively clean spot inside the enclosure. I probably didn't need to be totally naked but I did it anyway. It was still chilly out and the wet asphalt felt cold under my bare feet.

The biggest dumpster, a blue one with two black plastic lids, caught my attention first. This was the one for regular garbage. I lifted one of the lids and looked inside and saw only black for a moment until my eyes adjusted. It was empty. The garbage men must have come during the night. Disappointed, I quietly closed the lid. There was a little black dirt on my hand. I smeared it across my breast just to feel dirty. Another, smaller, dumpster was for grease and had just one lid. There was whitish gray and light brown grease congealed all around the edge of the lid with little bits of probably old food caked in it. It looked so awful I leaned forward smear my boobs into the grease. It felt rough and uncomfortable at first against my sensitive nipples, but it was also slippery and smelled bad. I liked it having it on my boobs. I wondered what was inside the dumpster. Lifting the lid I found a plastic grid across the opening, I guess to keep large things from falling inside, and below that was dark. I couldn't tell how much grease was inside, but the grid itself was caked in the same brown and gray crust of congealed grease. But there was much more of it. It formed little grease icicles everywhere. It looked truly gross. I ran my fingers along part of the grid. Gobs of the grease came off in my hand. I squeezed, feeling it ooze between my fingers. It had a sharp, sour smell to it. So disgusting. I brought my hand down between my legs and pressed the grease against my vaginal lips. It felt so nasty but so good at the same time. Smearing the grease between the lips with my middle finger, I thought yeah, my poor pussy's waited so long to get what it deserves. Finally...finally, some abuse.

 The front of the grease dumpster was too close to the wall for me to stand directly in front of it, or I'd have gotten more of myself onto the grid. Instead I managed to cover most of the front of my body with grease and ended up leaning against the grease dumpster playing with my clit. I was incredibly horny for the first time in a long time. I wished that the garbage dumpster hadn't been empty. That's when I noticed that gray plastic garbage can again. It was worth a look.

It turned out to be the jackpot. The can was about half full of discarded food. I could see pieces of vegetables, meat, noodles, rice, peels, mussel shells, all sorts of stuff mixed together with wet used napkins and used straws. I could tell immediately that they scrape off people's plates into this can coming back to the kitchen. I was surprised at how much of it there was. And it smelled really bad. I wanted it.

I pushed the garbage can over, got on my hands and knees, and started pulling the mess of discarded food out onto the filthy pavement in front of the dumpsters. I think I'm right that this was scraped off people's plates, but there also seemed to be scraps from the kitchen too. The garbage a little deeper down is darker and more brown. I decided it must be older than what's on top, so that's what I want. I practically had my head in the can as I scooped out garbage from deep inside.

 I noticed myself breathing hard. I hadn't been this excited in a long time. I sat down right in middle of the mess, scooped up a handful of it and pressed it against my vagina. It felt cold and gross but I didn't care. At least some of it went inside me. I was really wet already but the grease helped it go in.

This is what I wanted, I thought to myself. Naked, sitting in a pile of garbage and masturbating with it. My heart is pounding and I feel alive. I can get so sick from this but that just makes me more excited. There's a beer bottle in the pile. I pulled it out and set it aside. Some grayish lumps of something. I think it's fat and I push it into my vagina along with wilted, mushy greens and some rice. They must serve a lot of rice because it's everywhere. A long black and silver strip of skin from a fish. It really smelled putrid. I pushed it inside me too. This is what my body is for, I think. This is what my vagina is for, making me feel like this. Why did I try to avoid it for so long?

 My vagina felt full but I wanted to keep going. I thought of pushing it all out and starting over but I noticed the beer bottle again. I picked up the bottle and rolled myself over onto my side. Holding the bottle by the neck with both hands I pushed the large end of it into me. I closed my legs and pushed hard on the bottle. It made me cum right right then, really hard, with the bottle working like a plunger pushing the garbage deeper inside me and spreading it around to make room for more. It felt so good.

I wasn't even done cumming when I sat back up and pulled the beer bottle out of me and went right back to stuffing my vagina. I noticed a brownish-gray wad of gristle someone had chewed and spit out onto their plate. Lucky for me, I thought. I shoved it inside me. I found an octopus tentacle, eggplant peels, olive pits, a chicken bone, a kleenex, shrimp tails. I pushed it all inside me until nothing else would go in. I used the beer bottle as a plunger again, and just like before I suddenly began to orgasm. This time I was cumming because I was so full it hurt. It hurt more when I pushed on the bottle. I needed to take as much garbage as I could inside my vagina so I kept pushing on it anyway. I caught myself growling through my teeth from the effort of pushing so hard.

I slowly pulled the bottle out when I'd finished cumming again, hoping the garbage wouldn't gush right back out. It didn't, so I tried pushing a few more bits inside me. I didn't even know what they were. But now I'd stuffed myself with as much stinking, disgusting garbage as would fit, and my vagina was stretched as far as it could go. I was wet and filthy all over and shivering from the cold. I stood up as carefully as I could so none of my garbage would come out of me, but there was no way I could put my clothes back on this way. I peeked out between the wooden doors to the enclosure. Seeing nobody, I grabbed my clothes and shuffled, bent over, back to my car as quickly as I could. My vagina ached so much I couldn't stand up straight. It felt like I had a huge heavy ball inside me. Inside the car I balled up my jeans and put them under my crotch so nothing could come out while I sat. Throwing on my hooded sweatshirt, I started the car and got away with the heater at full blast.

Getting from the car into my apartment was a struggle, but fortunately there wasn't much chance I'd be seen unless one of my neighbors stayed home from work or something. I went straight to my bedroom and pulled on three pairs of really tight panties. Nothing comes out of me when I wear them like that. So I sat down on my bed and felt the lump inside me. I loved how it felt. It's garbage and I deserve to have it in me. It's disgusting and perverse but at least I don't feel dead like I usually do, trying to stay normal.

 I wondered if I should keep it inside me, carrying the garbage around inside my vagina for a while. Maybe even for a couple days, even if it makes me sick. But no. Bad idea. Instead I took out one of my vibrators and played it against my clit while I pushed the whole mess out of me onto some paper towels. I got to cum again.

The garbage is now in a sealed plastic container under the sink. I think I'm going to let it rot for a while and then see what I want to do with it. I also need to have my car's interior cleaned.

I wasted a lot of time denying myself. It's been way more than a year since I did anything like this. I kept thinking that it was my depression that made me want to do things to myself, and that if I succumbed to the desire I'd end up backsliding again, losing my job and everything I've worked so hard for. I was, and I am really scared of that ever happening. But maybe I don't have to be dead inside all the time. I went to work last night, and everything is fine. Maybe I'm a depraved, filthy pig who can also hold a job.

Thursday, December 22, 2011

Hacked again

My blog got hacked again. Hopefully this time I figured out how. The kid that's been doing it defaced my last post so badly that I just deleted it. It was full of horrible racist stuff. I found the rough draft of the post:

I’ve been employed full-time for a year now! I’ve never worked in the same place this long before. I’m proud of having gone this long without being fired or being yelled at for not showing up for work. I’m glad my parents aren’t so worried about me anymore. I’m amazed that I actually have something in a savings account.

But it’s not all good. I do feel my depression stalking me sometimes. It tries to pull me down, makes me want to stay in bed and hide from my life. It feels like darkness. It feels like a huge hole right behind me waiting for me to stumble. I fight against falling into that hole all the time.

The problem is, when I let go, fall, and hit bottom, I start feeling again. I start feeling like myself. At the bottom, I am nothing, I have nothing, and filth and waste and decay become all I deserve and all I am. That’s when bugs and garbage and dog shit do more than just disgust me and I end up doing something worth writing about here…especially if I lose control of myself. I miss feeling like that.

I still fantasize a lot about things I’ve done and would still like to do to myself. But new ideas - really good, nasty, filthy ideas - don’t come. I used be able to find really perverted porn stories and draw ideas from them, but I’ve seen nothing new in a long time. Maybe I just don’t know where to look.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Checking in

Just thought I'd write here a little bit - the emails asking if I'm still around have begun, which makes me feel a little guilty. I'm still here, I'm still okay, and still employed - amazingly enough.

I'm actually thinking of going back to school to become a paralegal. It's not something I'm especially interested in, but I think it might be a smart thing to do. I do work in a law office, after all.

I had an awkward moment during a visit to the gyne. I have a new doctor now because of different insurance and I went for my first annual last week. While she was examining me, looking inside me, she was like, hey, what happened to you? So I told her about having had toxic shock syndrome, but not without my face also flushing red. She asked me how I got it. I mumbled something about a bacterial infection, trying to deliberately sound stupid. I could tell by her expression that she thought I was being evasive, and she kind of stopped asking.

But she did tell me one thing that I didn't know before. I already knew that I am basically sterile, unable to get pregnant, but I've never known exactly why. She explained that it was because of scar tissue. There's apparently a lot of scarring in my vagina and especially on my cervix. Interesting to know. I'd always wondered. I guess I'm glad the scarring doesn't get in the way of having fun. It might have been sort of cool to have had some scarring on the outside where it would be visible. Then it would be kind of like a "medal of honor" for having managed to mutilate myself a little bit.

Thursday, November 11, 2010

New Job

I’m back working in the law office now! I quit Target. That’s the first time I ever left a job without being fired. How depressing is that? The attorney that I'm working for, the one who asked me to come back, is actually a friend of my dad's going back to when I was little. I'm suspicious that he was doing my dad a favor by asking me to come back. It would explain why he's also agreed to put me on the health insurance plan the rest of the office staff is on...yeah! Anyway, this is the best job I've ever had and I'm grateful to have a second chance at it.

I don’t mean to disappoint, but I’ve been kind of a clean girl lately. Probably just haven’t been depressed enough since I started the new job. I cleaned up the apartment a little bit, enough to realize I had an ant problem last summer but didn’t notice. I separated out the empty pizza boxes from the stacks of magazines, too. I even put makeup on for the first time in ages. No reason, just felt good to do it.

Anybody who’s reading this has probably already done it, but I Googled “blowfly_girl” recently. I had no idea how much attention the stuff I’ve written has gotten. Looks like the consensus is that I must be sick in the head. Well, duh! What’s funny are blog comments and forums where people shock each other by posting links to my stories.

I’m not going to betray any confidences, but I think it’s worth mentioning that I’ve been exchanging emails with someone who has had an experience with maggots similar to mine. She got the idea from reading about what I did. I’m pretty sure she’s sincere. She knows way too much about what maggots do when you mess around with them, and how they feel on your body. Either that or she studies insects for a living and she’s just playing with me.

I’m not sure how I feel about having inspired someone to do that to themselves.