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
