While out for drinks my mother was anonymously dropped at an emergency room in rural Washington . My Mothers' cause of death was a perforated colon. Needless to say me and my father searched religiously for clues as to what may have happened to her. Our investigation eventually lead us to a nearby farmhouse, where we discovered buckets of videotapes containing scene after scene of graphic bestiality. Every single one of these films involved my mother and a large Arabian stallion she had affectionately named Hector. My mothers small rectum could and would not hold the pressure of the horses' large member and she died, I say from a broken heart. Shortly thereafter my father committed suicide and I hightailed it on the first bus out of town. Destination unknown.
I began working at rundown diner off US- 10 a lonely stretch of highway that rests in Flint, Michigan. It was a good living, day in day out I scrubbed the floors made the coffee and gave advice to anyone who would lend an ear. I resided in a rundown motel that was nestled among the trailer parks nearby, this was home. One sunny autumn day I was smoking my pack of Double Diamond cigarettes and sipping a fresh batch of grape cool aide when I was approached by a strange but very attractive older man I had not seen before. This man whispered sweet nothings in my ear, told me he loved me. That was the last I ever saw of that diner and any resemblance of humanity that still remained within.
This was how my picture appeared in the ads plastered in damn near every truck stop and port a parky this side of Lake Michigan. I had become a legend in the underground sex community. Every man wanted a piece of me and every woman wanted to be me. It was as if I had become a queen of some sort, and my kingdom was the streets. During a routine job in a seedier section of Detroit I was ambushed by 3 large men and 2 women, held against my will I was violently raped and tortured for 6 months. I still say everything I did was out of self defense a need to survive, I'm not exactly sure of what transpired the day I freed myself. The crime scene photos speak for them self.
I was forced to go underground assuming the identity of a malnourished stewardess , living amongst the common gutter trash in seedy motel room after seedy motel room, I have survived. On the day of May 1st 2011 I was once again ambushed by a group of derelict men and placed in now what may be my final tomb. Ad mist the neon lights and clouds of yellow smoke I am forced to watch the films these men bring me day in day out. "Fringe" films , films shunned by mainstream society and forced into grungy hands in dirty alleys'. This is an account day by day of these films as I watch them. You will see no hollywood blockbusters or products of the corporate machine unless they have been shunned by critics and forced into my domain. Feel free to make suggestions on films or comments, you the public are my only hope.
DEMONICA VANSANT
