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xmag.com : March 2002: Jack Shack

My pet pug, an ultra-hyper sloppy little girl named Cookie, awakes me every morning, climbing her little buff body onto my chest, standing on my throat, digging her claws into my larynx, and licking my face until it's impossible to sleep. It's cute, but it's also annoying. Recently she received her first menstrual period, and my tiny apartment looked like a slaughterhouse, especially the bed sheets. She has this mystifying little protrusion which normally juts out of her snapper, a tiny jellybean-styled fleshy nub; when she was greeted with Eve's Curse, said nub swelled up to the size and color of a strawberry. It was caked in dried blood and gave off a foul, metallic, fishy smell. Did I mention that she barks a lot, too? Cookie had managed to be cute, annoying, and repellent all at the same time.
Kinda like Bridget the Midget.
All three feet, ten inches of her.
During Strap On Midget's opening montage, a shot of an eager, manic Bridget in bed, flailing around atop a full-sized girl's chest, instantly reminded me of what my pug does to me every morning. Bridget is tiny like my pug. She is rough and graceless like my pug. And she has a DISGUSTING VAGINA, just like my cuddly widdle pug.
Nine or so months ago, there was talk around the Exotic office about flying me down to the Moonlite Bunnyranch in Nevada to fuck Bridget the Midget and then write about it. Since Bridget has a sexy gap in her teeth and would be able to blow me while we both were standing, I was more than willing to oblige. But at the time I had a rather jealous girlfriend, and my Midget Rendezvous never materialized. But I've finally managed to extricate myself from tiresome, constricting, boyfriend-and-girlfriend scenarios, and recently my thoughts turned once again to Bridget, that pint-sized fleshy lump o' fun. I thought of resurrecting my Midget Fuck story...I seriously pondered flying to Reno and plopping my penis straight into a midget's vagina.
This all came crashing down the moment I first laid eyes on that HORRIFYING SNAIL TWAT of hers. Strap On Midget offers no soothing soundtrack music, no muted camera focus, to blunt the gut-walloping pain that greets the viewer during those first awful frames which spotlight Bridget's splayed-open groin area. I am not stating this for effect, only to share a dreadful, dreadful truth with the reader, to hopefully try and exorcise--or at least dim somewhat--a ghastly image which is burned into my brain: the sight of Bridget's wee, miscolored vulva, with its two-tone lips and generally slimy appearance, caused me to scream, physically tremble, and even dry-heave during the entire sequence where a goofy, faggy tall guy performed the act of oral love upon her horribly uncomely genital region. A loose string dangling from her pull-up stockings onto her general, er, groinal area didn't help the visuals, either. Neither did a black-widow spider tattooed right above her bristly muff--it merely looked like it was walking into a spider's den where hundreds of other arachnids creepy-crawled around. Neither did the brown nimbus surrounding her butthole. I've seen a lot of disgusting things in my life--on many occasions, I've sought them out--but Bridget's disturbing midget cunt is right up there near the tippity-top.
There isn't even the pretense of a plot here--the title says it all. You get a midget with a strap-on, and very little in the way of a stunning narrative or emotional complexity. There is no foreplay, no annoying dialogue leading up to the sex. It's nice, actually.
Here's a sample of the verbal interaction:
Bridget: [with Faggy Guy's cock in her mouth]: "Mm-hmm?"...Faggy Guy: Oh, yeah..."Ha!"...Ha!..."Mm-hmm?"...Mm-HMM..."Mm-hmm?"...Aww, yeah..."Mm-hmm?"...Whew!
Bridget suddenly appears with a pink rubber strap-on dildo that is almost as large as Bridget. Faggy Guy sort of half-heartedly protests, but soon he's sticking his legs back behind his ears bunny-rabbit-style and taking it in his faggy, acne-ravaged butt. The dildo makes a cringeworthy splatting sound when it enters his rectum. Bridget taunts him about his tight asshole. Her thrusts are disturbingly rough and eager, her little dinosaur arms flapping in syncopation with her munchkin pelvis. At one point, the camera zooms in on a what appears to be a smear of shit or blood near the dildo's tip. Faggy Guy grunts and groans in pain: "Stop! Stop!," but you know he loves it.
Bridget then wields the strap-on with a middle-aged woman who has a bird face and saggy tits and a hilariously outdated Rolling Stones "lick" tattoo on her flabby belly. Bird Woman has a foul Yonkers accent and wears rings, gold chains, and the always stylish Italian Gold Disco Horn Necklace. She looks as if she smells like
sour boiled cabbage. Her moans of ecstasy sound somewhat like puking--"BLAHHH! BLAHHH! BLECHHH!"
"What a big dick you have here, lady!" she barks at Bridget before proceeding to perform fellatio upon the inanimate phallus. She pretends it's a real dick, and Bridget pretends that having Bird Woman suck on the rubber implement feels good for her, too. Bird Woman makes exaggerated, surreal expressions as she bobs her head ostrich-style up and down on the huge phony tool. She laps at Bridget's plastic balls, too, feigning pleasure all the while.
Her rolls of fat are stacked like white tires, and her saggy jugs swing around with far too much ease and slackness. When Bridget goes down on her, it looks as if her face is buried in a vast white snowdrift.
And then, just like Bridget's twat had previously bum-rushed my eyeballs, there it is--a hemorrhoid on Bird Woman's ass, a pumpkin-seed-sized rectal inflammation in all its itchy splendor.
I realize I want to die.
Bridget's next strap-on victim is a blonde woman who appears to be approximately eight hundred years old. Her hair is peroxided an eye-burning blonde, and her wrinkled lids are thickly smeared with butane-flame-blue eyeliner. Picture an old reptile with blue eyeliner and a Vince Neil wig, and you're getting close. Her visage bespeaks a lifetime of abuse, bad breaks, heartache, and blown chances. Her veiny hands grab desperately at Bridget's rubber tool. So old, so much waste, so many battle scars and tire tracks. A foul human being all around. Her burnt-toast vagina finally requires artificial lube in order to receive all of Bridget's strap-on rubberiness.
The film ends with a straight hetero scene featuring a bald guy and a blonde woman with hard-shell coconut surgical tits. No Bridgets, no midgets, and no strap-on devices. He shoots it all over her face...THE END.
If your weary soul has been searching hi and lo for a video in which a female Little Person joyously fucks a guy's pimply ass with a strap-on dildo, look no further than Strap On Midget, another blockbuster of questionable taste from our friends over at Filmco. I don't know what they charge for these videos--we get them for free at the office. All I know is that I don't want any of these people to have orgasms EVER again. And all I learned is that Mother Nature sometimes makes mistakes





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