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Special 05: "Helping Paws"
(A 'My Neighbor Totoro' fanfiction by Didjeridoo)

If you've been a regular reader of this site for any period of time and didn't just stumbled upon this page from a Google search for some kind of grotesque, anime-related fetish porn (which is where just under eighty percent of this site's traffic comes from), then chances are you'll remember my landmark review of a fanfiction by the name of Pokémon: A New Experience. Despite being one of the oldest pieces of content I've written for the site, I can still remember what was running through my mind the first time I ever read that fic. The finer details have become a little faded over time, but the gist of it was something to the effect of:


Ah, those were the days. How wonderfully innocent I was back then, to be so horrified by something as inoffensive as a slashfic where a couple of preteen kids have unprotected sex in front of small animals fully aware of what they're seeing. And it's not like I had never read a lemon before, nor was I unaware of sexual deviancies that far surpassed the contents of that story in their depravity. No, I think the real terror came from knowing that there were actually people out there who could watch a cartoon show aimed at young children and become aroused enough by the characters to expend the time and energy needed to write an entire story about them screwing.

Okay, so maybe it's something we've all briefly contemplated in our darker moments—I have so much half-finished Josie and the Pussycats smut on my hard drive that my PC is legally the property of Hanna-Barbera—but the guy who wrote that Pokémon story actually went through with it. Then he published it on the internet for everyone to see and know beyond any possible doubt what degenerate fantasies his mind was capable of producing. They say that brave men are honest, but there has to be a better word than "bravery" to describe someone who would proudly announce to all of cyberspace that he watched a kids' anime about professional cockfighting and stayed horny long enough to write a complete narrative arc about the main characters losing their virginity.

But I digress. This little trek down memory lane was for the purpose of leading up to the fanfiction to which I now turn my attention. By request, I've decided to review the literary epic known as Helping Paws, a story which, like that "new experience" I suffered through so very long ago, features an anime created specifically for children being shoved to the floor and violently desecrated in front of the readers' very eyes. Anyone with particularly fond memories of watching My Neighbor Totoro, be warned: After viewing the following seven pages of putrid prose, you will likely never be able to look at Hayao Miyazaki's classic animated film the same way ever again.


If you want someone to blame for the obliteration of that last unspoiled part of your childhood, then the name you'll want to carve into your victims' screeching faces is Didjeridoo. And no, that isn't a typo; the man who wrote this fic is such a consummate wordsmith that he misspelled his own stupid penname.



The following story is copyright 1993 by Didjeridoo.

Steal it and he'll be forced to play traditional Australian melodies at you.

Some characters are copyright by Miyazaki Hayao. You may
redistribut this story freely in any ELECTRONIC medium
provided that no charge is made for the distribution.

I tried to burn this story onto some CDs and pass them out in front of a Wal-Mart, but it didn't go over very well. Man, though, the look on that old lady's face when I told her what was on the discs totally made the whole experience worthwhile.

If you're confused about what's going on in this story,

Then congratulations, you pass the Perfectly Normal Human Being Test!

run down to your local video store and rent yourself a copy
of "My Neighbor Totoro" which you can almost certainly find
in the kidvid section.

I can assure you folks at home right now that familiarizing yourself with the source material for this fanfic will raise far more questions in your mind than it will answer.

Send email to the author, with your comments, good or bad, on the
story. I can be reached via Internet email as, as
Didjeridoo on Throbnet, or by calling the Team H BBS at 510-236-5114.

They have their own private hotline!? Damn, these guys really take their anime porn stories seriously.

Helping Paws

I had always thought that Totoro was only visible to
children; Mom and Dad had never been able to see him, and when I
started menstruating, I stopped seeing him too.

The author could have written "when I became an adult," or "when I reached a certain age," but no. The menstruation reference was crucial to setting the tone for this story, apparently.

Now, though, I realize that I must have stopped seeing him because I
expected to... I'm glad I was wrong!

Perhaps I should back up a bit.

You mean to give the readers some vague idea of what's going on? Why, that's just crazy enough to work!

I first met Totoro when I was 8, and spent many hours with him over
the next few years. Eventually, though, as I grew up and started doing
"grown-up things",

Like getting into My Chemical Romance and realizing how phony and pointless and lame mythical wood spirits are and how the only real truth lies in despair.

I started to see him less and less, until I stopped seeing him altogether.
I went away to college, and then work. I married, and after a few years
we decided we were ready to have a baby. I guess that's really where
this story starts.

Too late, Mrs. Narrator. I've already formed some strong opinions about this story, none of them good.

We tried for months, but I never got pregnant. We went to a
fertility specialist, who assured us that there was no reason why
I shouldn't get pregnant, but despite everything we tried, we
never succeeded. To make it worse, we were so intent on my
getting pregnant that sex stopped being fun.

"Soon, those feelings of regret began to fester, and our quiet contempt for each other grew into a bitter, violent loathing."

I'd cum, and instead of relaxing in the afterglow, I'd find myself
thinking "Thank God that's over with. Now I can go to sleep."

Way to bitch. If I'm to believe every female comedian who has ever lived, then you should be thanking God that your husband bothered to wait until you climaxed.

As you can imagine, we were really getting upset about it.
Finally the doctor suggested that we might just be trying too
hard. "Relax a little," he said.

Sperm are like pets; they can sense your emotions and will react accordingly. If you want them to be obedient, you have to provide a calm atmosphere and positive reinforcement for good behavior.

"Take a couple of days off and take a little vacation trip. Don't
have sex to have a baby; wait until you both want to make love
for yourselves. Maybe if you take some of the pressure off of
trying to get pregnant it will work better."

Doctor: Or maybe it won't. Hell, I really don't have a fucking clue. You guys should really switch to an HMO that allows you to see doctors who actually went to medical school.

We talked it over, and decided it was worth a try. We each
took a week off from work, and rented a small house in the
country near where I grew up.

There ain't nothing else like precious childhood memories to get you in the mood for some hot, nasty lovin'.

The first couple of days were dreadful. We were both so upset
and uncomfortable that we leaped at the opportunity to ignore
each other for a while.

What the hell, am I the fanfic's marriage counselor all of a sudden? Why is it telling me this?

I guess we really went a little too far, though, going off separately
to explore, and really only seeing each other for dinner and at
bedtime. After three days of this, though, I was ready to scream.

Damn lady, if you're that easily stressed out about everything then maybe you shouldn't have kids. Or any sort of relationship with anyone, for that matter.

I wanted my husband back, not this stranger who shared my
table and bed. I just couldn't bring myself to say anything.

The third night was when things changed.

"As soon as he was asleep, I knew what I had to do. I quietly crept down to the kitchen and removed the large steak knife from the cupboard. After returning to the bedroom in silence, I pulled down the bed sheets and severed the limp organ before me as if it were a chain that bound me to this awful existence."

I was awakened around 1 AM by a tapping sound at the window.
Not sure quite why, I slipped out of bed, and crossed the room. I
peered out the window, and there on the outside ledge was a familiar

If this is going where I think it is, then I'm liking this plot twist a lot so far. However, I can't help but wonder how the author is going to incorporate Batman into this story and make it believable...

Little Totoro, no bigger than he had been the last time I had
seen him, stood there looking in at me.

Totoro: So are you guys gonna do it or what? I'm sick of standing out here for nothing and going home with an empty roll of film night after night.

I stared at him in amazement, but when he hopped off the
window ledge and began to run towards the trees, I didn't even
hesitate long enough to put on my slippers before running for the

She knew she had to stop him before he could tell anyone of their terrible secrets, even if it meant using the precious few bullets she had intended to save for her husband.

I must have been quite a sight, running across the grass
buck naked, with my hair streaming out behind me.

Neighbor: Ah, what a lovely night for stargazing... Is there any sight more beautiful than the brilliant wonders of the heav-- Whoa shit, random naked chick!

Little Totoro disappeared into the undergrowth, but I was
only a couple of steps behind him, and followed him into the
well-remembered hole that led to the Totoros' den.

Is it just me, or does crawling through a patch of thick underbrush in the dark without any clothes on sound like it would hurt like a motherfucker?

It wasn't until he popped out of sight downwards that I even
began to consider what I was doing: chasing a myth, stark
naked, in the middle of the night.

Throw in a beer bong and it was practically her sorority initiation all over again.

I almost turned back then, but I realized that if I was going
insane, it was an insanity I wanted, and down the hole I went.

There they were at the bottom, lined up and waiting for me.

The room erupted in joyous screams as the hooded figures yelled cheers of "The sacrifice has been delivered!" and "All hail Totoro, Dark Lord of the Forests!"

I pulled myself up short, and, after a moment to catch my breath,
bowed to them. The three of them bowed back to me, and then the
biggest one, the one I always thought of as "Totoro", stepped
forward with his arms spread wide.

Hey kids, Totoro says that Didjeridoo hates his readers THIS much!

Somehow I knew he was welcoming me back, and I stepped forward
and buried my face in his fur. His arms went around me, and his hug
unlocked all the frustration that was locked up inside of me and I
began to cry into his chest.

Damn, this chick is totally schizo. I mean it, we're only three pages into this and she's already hit more emotional extremes than an ecstasy addict watching a marathon of Darren Aronofsky movies.

It felt like I cried for hours as he stroked the back of my head.

Totoro: Hey, umm... P-Please stop. Look, I just wanted to invite you over for some iced tea and bagel chips...

Finally my tears reluctantly stopped, and I began talking, telling
Totoro about everything that had happened in the years since I
had seen him last, everything good, and everything bad. I just
couldn't stop.

Totoro: (looking at his watch) Yeah, wow, that's totally great. Hey listen, I kind of have to get up early tomorrow...

It all just seemed to pour out of me as I talked until, when I had
finished, I just stood there in his arms, totally limp. "What do
you think?" I asked him honestly.

I must have missed that subplot in the movie where Totoro goes to school and gets his master's degree in abnormal psychology. Otherwise, this woman just hit a whole new level of desperate.

After a moment, Totoro picked me up and held me at arm's
length, as he used to do when I was a child.

Then, upon realizing that she no longer weighed forty-five pounds, Totoro lost his balance and fell forward, instantly crushing her to death.

He looked me up and down, like he had never seen me before, and
then made that silly "wurfling" noise that always made me laugh.
He extended his tongue, and swept it across my face, from my chin
to my hairline.

I can handle that. As long as he keeps it above the waist. Hear that, Didjidick? ABOVE THE WAIST.

I stared at him for a moment, he looking back at me with
that solemn expression of his, his saliva dripping off my chin,
and then I burst into giggles as the silliness of my position
struck me.

It's funny because she raided the medicine cabinet earlier and now she's rolling around in a puddle on the driveway, clinging to a bag of cedar mulch.

"Put me down, please?" I asked.

He tipped me a bit sideways, and looked at me with a puzzled
expression, as if he couldn't figure out why I would want that,
but then he set me down on the edge of his sleeping area, the
raised section of the den filled with leaves.

Almost every sentence in this story is half a dozen smaller sentences crudely sewn together by about four billion commas. Reading this is like driving down a thirty-mile-long stretch of straight roadway with a stop sign placed on the side every dozen yards or so.

After I had settled myself comfortably on the lip, he reached out
with one paw, and very carefully poked me right between my breasts.
It wasn't a hard push, but it was just hard enough. I fell over
backwards into the pile of leaves.

If you replace every instance of the word "leaves" with "human bones", this story suddenly takes off in a way more interesting direction.

I looked up laughing, just in time to see Totoro leap into
the air, directly towards me.

Freeze frame. "And in that moment, I knew this would be the last night of the greatest summer of my entire life."

Somehow, in midair he slipped sideways, landing beside me
instead of on top of me, and hurling thousands of leaves into
the air, where they swirled for a minute, before settling on

Wow, now I know what to expect if John Woo ever writes a My Neighbor Totoro lemon. Besides knowing it's time to hang myself, I mean.

One particularly large one hit me squarely in the face and
stuck there, held by the saliva that still hadn't completely dried.

Still laughing, I batted the leaf away, and leapt on Totoro.
"See what you did?" I demanded as I landed on his chest.

"Do you see this? DO YOU!? Bad, Totoro! BAD!!"

Once again he reached out with one paw, and before I could
move to protect myself, his claw tips found my bare ribs.

His hunting instincts now fully activated, Totoro viciously rammed his razor-sharp claws into the unsuspecting girl, impaling her vital organs one after the other!

In moments, he had me wiggling in all directions and laughing
hysterically, frantically -- and unsuccessfully -- trying to hide
every ticklish part of my body from him. I tried to protest
more than once but found I was unable to breathe.

It's like he's forcibly molesting her with tickles. This paragraph is why I suspect the author isn't legally allowed to live within a mile of any schools or playgrounds.

Over and over we rolled in the leaves, until finally we came
to rest, me holding my sides to keep from throwing up from all
the laughing,

Yeah, great, have her vomit all over the place. That'll get the readers turned on.

Totoro kneeling (I hadn't even realized until then that he had
knees!) between my legs, one paw on either side of my ribcage,
clearly ready to resume his assault when I settled down a little.
To prevent him from starting again, I grabbed his arms and
pulled, toppling him across me.

She's going to suffocate under a tremendous weight, naked, underground in some oversized gopher hole half a mile out into the middle of the woods. Man, I do not envy the homicide detectives who are going to have to piece that one together.

A big mistake that turned out to be, since his fur on my now
extremely sensitive skin tickled nearly as much as the paws I had
been trying to avoid.

Now how does that even work? Hey Didjeridonutbrain, if I put on a fuzzy glove and punch you in the face, do you think that will tickle?

Fortunately, Totoro turned out to be incredibly light for his size,
no heavier than my husband, really, and I managed to squirm out
from under him without too much trouble.

I wonder if her being married to a hideously obese sumo wrestler with a glandular disorder has anything to do with their difficulties conceiving a child...

Totoro rolled onto his side and lay there looking at me, and I
acted on a mischievous impulse, and leaned forward, kissing him
on the tip of his nose. His eyes opened wide for a moment, and
then his tongue shot out, tracing a line around the curve of my ear.

Whoa there, big guy, a little peck on the nose is hardly an invitation to that sort of thing. You're not Roman Polanski, and she's not a drunken thirteen-year-old.

I felt a quick flash of sensual pleasure -- my ears have always been a
big erogenous zone. I couldn't help but shudder hard, and despite
still being nude, I knew it wasn't from the chill of the air.

She's so pent-up with sexual frustration that having her ear licked caused her to experience a mild seizure. I wonder if even one single cucumber she's bought has ever actually made it into a salad.

"Two can play at that game," I told him, before reaching forward to
tickle his ears with my finger.

I felt his arm come around me, and his paw began to move
slowly up and down my back, tracing sensual curves from side to
side across my spine, and then down to my hips and buttocks.

If Totoro was a human, he'd be the greasy, middle-aged guy who gets beaten up by a pair of bouncers behind a nightclub because he tried to jam his hands down the skirt of a woman who briefly smiled at him.

Despite myself, I moaned in pleasure and snuggled my body close
against his, my tickling of his ears quickly changing to a
passionate caress. This was a side of Totoro I had never seen;
never even thought of!

This a side of Totoro I had previously assumed no person anywhere had ever thought of, but Didgydoo went and proved me wrong. So, so wrong...

His touch became more and more urgent as we lay there, and
after a time I felt something pressing against my leg. I pulled
away from him and looked down. His cock was in proportion to the
rest of him.

Normally, this is the part where I'd shut my eyes and start chanting about going to a happy place, but everything leading up to this point in the story has already been so fucked up that I welcome this next phase of the plot.

Far bigger than any I had seen, even in pictures. I must have lain
there looking at the humongous organ for too long, as Totoro gently
pushed me onto my back and moved to a position between my legs.

Totoro: I'll take your terrified silence as a sign of consent!

Somehow the thought that Totoro wasn't human never even
entered my head; my only concern was that if he tried to enter
me, I might be torn in half!

This very train of thought is the reason her first and only trip to a dude ranch resulted in her leaving in an ambulance.

"Wait..." I said, about to offer to get him off a different
way, but Totoro just placed a finger on my lips in a "hush"

Totoro: Shut it, trick! I listened to you whine and bitch about your pathetic life for hours, now you owe me some goddamn poontang!

I felt the pressure of his cock against the outside of my pussy,
and then Totoro give a peculiar wiggle, and he was inside me. I
felt him slide deep inside, filling me as I had never been filled
before. I couldn't help but moan in pleasure.

I'm not a woman, admittedly, but shouldn't having the equivalent of a fleshy baseball bat shoved up your vagina involve less moaning and a lot more blood-curdling screaming?

He held his cock inside me for a moment, letting me get used
to the sensation, and then he began to move, slowly stroking in
and out of me. The stimulation was incredible, and it wasn't
long before I was lifting my hips to meet him on each in-stroke,
wanting him deeper and deeper inside me.

"Oh yes, Totoro, YES! Shove that telephone pole of a love organ deeper! I want to feel you screw between my lungs!"

My orgasm was on me quickly, and as the waves of pleasure hit me,
I felt Totoro bellow, and felt his cock jerking inside me, filling me
with his seed.

This isn't teaching kids about safe sex at all. If you're going to have the cuddly mascot of a beloved children's movie star in your homemade smut, the least you could do is be responsible and include a message about using protection or drinking lots of water or something.

Some time later, I came back to myself with a start,
realizing that I had no idea how long I had been lying in
Totoro's arms, half dozing, half cuddling against his warmth.

So, wait, did she black out from the blood loss or what? People don't just randomly loose consciousness when they orgasm. If that were the case, pornos would be full of people wearing helmets.

Totoro opened his eyes, and flicked his tongue against the tip of
my nose; a farewell, I was sure.

Totoro: Okay then, I'm gonna get some sleep; your money's on the dresser. Oh, and use the key under the mat to lock the door behind you.

I took my leave, snuggling my face into Totoro's fur, and
whispering "Thank you" as I left, and headed back to the cottage,
filled with a sense of purpose.

"Must... take... scalding hot... shower...!"

I slipped inside just as the sun was rising and tiptoed into
the bedroom, finding my husband sound asleep, an early morning
erection raising the covers. Climbing under the covers with him,
I carefully straddled his hips, and lowered myself onto his cock.

After being penetrated by Totoro's freakish monster schlong, that must have been a lot like covering a mushroom with a deflated hot air balloon.

His eyes opened as I slid down, and he smiled as I reached
bottom. "I love you," he whispered, and "I love you, too," I
told him as I began to move above him.

Husband: Oh honey, I... *sniff* Eww, what smells like wet dog?


Our daughter is five years old now, and she loves the
stories I tell her about Totoro, though I've never told her about
what happened the night she was conceived.

Smart move. I mean, holy shit, I literally cannot think of a way you could screw a child up any faster.

She's looking forward to exploring when we return to the
cottage this summer; I'm sure she wants to meet Totoro for

Taking your five-year-old daughter into the woods alone to show her to the giant monster that likes to lure women into its den at night and then rape them is your best idea yet, you crazy whore. After that, leave her in the car during a heat wave while you spend seven straight hours shopping for more "World's Best Mom" t-shirts.

Me? I'm looking forward to returning too, though for
quite another reason: I want my second child to be conceived
in the same place as the first.

Inside a twisted web of lies and adultery? Oh, you mean the cottage.

My husband laughs when I say that, and asks me how I can be
so sure I'll get pregnant during the short time we'll be there. I
just smile. After all, I can't very well tell him that I'm sure
Totoro will be helping out, now can I?

Come to think of it, how exactly would getting boned by Totoro help her conceive a child, anyway? Unless Totoro is the one getting her pregnant, in which case that's pretty messed up that she wants to give birth to more freaky, bloated, half-hamster mutant children.


- End


Good news, folks: You just survived reading a story about interspecies lovemaking based on a movie made for preteens! Unfortunately, there's also some bad news: You just survived reading a story about interspecies lovemaking based on a movie made for preteens.

Now that you've personally witnessed the bar for unethical perversion in amateur storytelling being raised so high that it pierces the earth's atmosphere and enters orbit alongside various defunct shopping network satellites and Sean Penn's ego, you might be wondering what comes next. No doubt you can see that gargantuan wave of depression rising up in the distance like an approaching tsunami, but is it better to lay down and accept the end of all happiness in your life, or preemptively eat a bullet to spare yourself decades of bleak, unending disparity?

While I don't have an answer for how you can best deal with the impending future of infinite anguish and hopelessness to which I've unwittingly doomed you, I can at least steer things in a somewhat more positive direction by focusing on the bright side of that story. First off, it was relatively short, which is always a huge plus when it comes to erotica written by people who shouldn't be allowed in the same time zone as a working internet connection. Second, and more importantly, I can't tell you how glad I am that the main character was aged well into adulthood. The whole "she needs Totoro's help to get knocked up" plot device was utterly asinine, but I am grateful that Dickerydoo at least had the good sense to not make the fanfic take place during the same timeframe as the original film. As creepy as Totoro having sex with a grown woman was, Totoro having sex with an eight-year-old girl would have been so exceedingly repulsive that whenever I try to envision a mental picture of that scenario, my brain blacks out for a moment and then replaces the image with a continuous five-second loop of dancing cartoon cows.

Now that I've been fair and given Didjeridoobie his rightful pat on the back, it's time for me to administer an equally well-deserved uppercut to the groin. Even with the absence of pedophilic content, "Helping Paws" is still a worse creation than the serrated steel butt plug, and less than half as useful when it comes to making sane people horny.

Quite frankly, I don't want to live in a world where a person can watch one of Miyazaki's films and think "Hey, that would make for some great jerkin' off material!" while not contemplating such things from the inside of a space shuttle moments away from being fired directly into the sun. And yet, here we are. God help me, I'm trapped in the same world as these maniacs. Try as I might to fight this growing trend of freaks defiling countless childhoods, it's only a matter of time before somebody writes Porkin' Rosso, or Princess Monobukkake, or Kiki's "Special" Delivery Service, or Pornyo.

Forget what I said about taking a more positive approach to all of this. There's no place for joy in an existence that involves Totoro smut. Obviously, the only remaining option is to hate everyone and everything.