Posted by C on February 02, 2001 at 07:34:48:
BUFFALO GIRLS, WON'T YOU KICK HARD TONIGHT?
By C
(Contains: capture, rape, non-consensual hanging, vore, a giant spider, and big beautiful girls who die with their boots on.)
In Mythica, fays come in all shapes and sizes, and Coyote hunts most of them. There's a significant
exception, however: buffalo girls, very nearly the biggest of Mythican land fairies. Unlike winged fairies, land fairies rely on their size, or strength, or fleetness of foot--or some combination of the three--to keep
predators from making them cry. Being a well-upholstered seven feet in height, with big, powerful (and
beautiful) legs, buffalo girls are especially formidable. Normally, they fall prey only to the largest,
fiercest, and most venomous of predators: the giant spiders that prowl the grasslands of Mythica. Not
wanting to be stamped into a smear on the highway, Coyote tends to leave these ladies alone.
Once, however, he bagged a whole herd of buffalo girls. Here's how it happened.
It was spring in the Southwestern Territory of Mythica. Coyote was fishing for mermaids in one of
the many streams that swell to a good size at that time of year. He had leapt into the chilly water a
dozen times so far and had caught two fish-tailed lovelies. These now lay side by side next to the
water, crying their eyes out and smacking the dirt repeatedly with their tails--as if that would
accomplish anything!
Coyote decided he had enough for a meal, so he lugged his victims over to a nearby tree and hung
them both from one of its stronger limbs. (Hanging makes mermaids come like crazy, and thus
brings them to the peak of juiciness.) Then he waited for their trembling, thrashing bodies to grow
still. When he was sure they were dead, he began cutting them down. Just then, he heard a familiar
rumble, which started out faint, then grew and grew, till it almost deafened him. Buffalo girls!
He knew buffalo girls didn't care for water, so he dashed back to the stream and jumped in. From
here he had a clear view of the plain to the north and of its most prominent feature: the town of
Saddlesoap. From the sound, he judged that the girls were approaching him from the opposite side
of town.
Suddenly, Saddlesoap exploded. Wooden buildings shattered, puffs of smoke shot up into the air,
humans and horses began to scream. Coyote could see the bright flicker of more than one fire.
Then, out of the swirling dust and smoke, they appeared.
It was a herd of twenty buffalo girls, all at least seven feet tall, all full-breasted and broad-hipped,
with long, powerful legs. Their faces were round and ruddy, but beautiful nonetheless. Every girl
had thick hair, black or blonde, reaching down to her rear end. Each wore only a waist-length
chemise of light brown leather, with matching knee-high boots. Their groins were, as always,
uncovered by anything but a thick pubic pelt. Even through the smoke, Coyote's powerful nose
caught the salty-sweet scent from between their thighs. Half-involuntarily, he felt himself harden.
One of them, a blonde, strode out in front of the others, looked around, and gave a signal in their
guttural language. Then they began to trot westward. If they noticed Coyote at all, they gave
no sign of it. Soon they were gone.
Coyote was curious, but he was also hungry, so he made a quick meal of the two unlucky
mermaids. Then he walked into town.
Everywhere he looked, he saw destruction. All the important buildings had been flattened.
Humans were running here and there, pulling corpses and wounded out of the rubble, tossing
buckets of water at the fires. In the middle of it all, he saw the Territorial Governor, Alonzo Graft,
who had organized a bucket brigade and was trying to put it to the best use. When the Governor
sat down for a moment to rest, Coyote hailed him.
"Governor Graft! What happened?"
"Howdy, Coyote," said the Governor, a portly man in a pinstripe suit. "It was the Rogue Herd.
We'd heard about 'em: they knocked down Sludge City just a week back, and Cuspidor the week
before that. We tried to get ready in case they showed, but, well, we got no weapons that're any
good 'gainst buffalo girls."
"Why do you think they're acting like this?" said Coyote.
"Well, I don't know for sure . . . but it might have somethin' to do with that Acme Company o'
yours. It was in the news how Acme's workin' on new developments that might make it possible
for humans to bag buffalo girls. I mean, they are pretty vicious 'n' all, though they never been this
bad before. It would be nice if we could deep-six a bunch of 'em. Anyway, this herd's got a head
buffalo girl (a big, strikin' blond; I saw her myself). She seems to've gotten it into her pretty head to stamp us all flat before we can hurt 'em. She's the worst of the lot, accordin' to survivors: actually
likes killin' folks."
"Well, Governor, I'm sorry if Acme had something--however indirectly and unintentionally--to do
with this. As I'm sure you know, I have a lot of pull with them--and a lot of friends in their R & D
department. What do you say if--for a modest fee--I put my head together with Acme's on this
problem?"
"Would you, Coyote? We'd sure appreciate it; humans are startin' to look like an endangered
species 'roun' here."
With that, Coyote and the Governor retreated to a tent that had been set up as his emergency
headquarters and discussed the manner and amount of payment.
After that had been settled, Coyote sat down and thought. Buffalo girls were hedged around with
especially powerful magic. Only a few predators had venom strong enough to bring them down,
and if he remembered rightly, there were other obstacles in the way of killing them. Best to call
Acme. Now where had he put that cell phone?
After a long talk with Acme R and D, he put in a rush order for the items he needed. What exciting
developments! Hunting was about to become more fun.
The next day he called a meeting with the Governor and all the local mayors. They traced the
Rogue Herd's previous movements on a map and agreed that the next target was likely to be
Sawdust Falls, about twenty miles west of Saddlesoap. As luck would have it, Sawdust Falls was
bounded on its eastern side by a stream that swelled to a fast-moving torrent in springtime.
Coyote now showed the humans everything he had gotten from Acme: a patented Collapsible
Insta-Bridge; twenty ampoules of patented Synthetic Giant Wolf Spider Venom; as many patented
Venom Applicators; a patented Orca-Size Mermaid Net; several lengths of the heaviest available
rope; and a ton of fresh lumber. Then, saving the best for last, Coyote showed them Acme's latest
development in the fight against wicked fays: twenty of their not-yet-patented Fay-Foiler
Condoms.
"Condoms?" said one of the mayors.
"Yes," said Coyote, "condoms." He proceeded to explain everything.
A day later, Coyote and his human allies put everything in readiness at Sawdust Falls. If the Rogue
Herd stuck to its schedule, it would attack sometime in the next week. All they could do now was
wait.
Three days after that, Coyote was inspecting the Insta-Bridge, which had been set up over the
fast-moving stream just outside of town. A scout came riding up to report that he had heard the
unmistakable sound of buffalo girl boots, coming from the east. Coyote sent the scout downstream
to make sure the nineteen human volunteers were ready.
He stood on the city-side of the bridge and waited. Soon he could hear the rumble of the
approaching girls. It grew louder and louder, and louder still. Then they came into view. He
counted quickly: yes, twenty. They thundered up to within ten feet of the bridge, then stopped.
They were now milling around, looking puzzled and a little anxious.
They don't like water, Coyote thought. So he waved his arms and shouted: "Nyah nyah! You
can't get me! Nyah nyah!" At this their leader gave a guttural bark, and on they came. Within
seconds, they were swarming onto the bridge. Coyote had to wait till every girl was aboard.
Luckily for him, the last one stepped onto the bridge before the leader could reach him and trample
him underfoot. He quickly punched a red button on a little black box that he'd been carrying. The
girls saw the box, but it was too late: The bridge collapsed, as per its design. Flailing and
screaming, twenty buffalo girls fell into the surging water below.
Coyote now ran downstream as fast as his feet could carry him. Though strong, the girls couldn't
swim, and so they had to go wherever the water took them. And that was right into the heavy-duty
Acme net that had been drawn across the stream about a hundred yards to the south. Once
Coyote and the nineteen volunteers were sure that everyone was tangled in the net, they slowly
drew it out of the water, with much cursing and back strain.
They then grabbed their venom applicators and converged on the squirming, struggling, shrieking
women. Making sure not to double-dose anyone, they jabbed each girl hard and made sure to
empty the entire ampoule. The shrieks grew louder and more ragged as the venom began to work.
Then they died down. The girls could do nothing now but whimper and kick ineffectually at the net that
still held them. (Until Acme had developed this new synthetic, only a giant wolf spider could so
completely KO a buffalo girl; and giant wolf spiders weren't big on sharing.)
Now they slowly disentangled their catch from the net. Then, with yet more effort, they bound the
girls' hands behind them with heavy Acme rope. As with other fays, doing so made them helpless to
resist the commands of their captors. Next they laid them out on their backs in two lines of ten. At
this point, the buffalo girls' leader cast a haughty look at Coyote and said: "We're not your natural
prey. Why are you doing this?"
"It's the challenge of it," said Coyote. "I've never caught buffalo girls before. And besides, you're
especially bad buffalo girls. I love bad girls. Love killing them, that is."
She gave a proud laugh and said: "Kill us! How do you propose to do that? Are you a male giant
wolf spider? "
"Obviously not," said Coyote.
"Well, in case you don't know, before we can be killed, we have to be fucked. Now what's the
fate of any non-spider that fucks a buffalo girl?
"Death," said Coyote.
"Are you that eager to kill us?"
"No," said Coyote. "But we brought protection." With that, he slipped an Acme condom onto his
fast-swelling member. The volunteers stepped out of their pants and did the same. "This has been
clinically proven to stop the fay curse cold. Get ready, girls."
Coyote pushed the head girl's heavy thighs apart and breathed in her wonderful salty-sweet musk.
Then he began to slip into her. As he did so, it finally dawned on her that this was really
happening. She cried: "No! No! Oh please, please, no!" But Coyote was in no mood for
mercy. He discovered that she was surprisingly tight, so he braced himself and then bore down as
hard as he could. She screamed till her voice gave out, and then just quietly wept.
Meanwhile, the volunteers looked on, not quite believing it was safe. But when it was clear that
Coyote wasn't going to disappear in a puff of smoke, they each picked a victim and went to work.
Soon all the buffalo girls were kicking, screaming, and bleeding.
There was only one mishap. One of the volunteers, old Ebenezer McGeezer, was repositioning
himself when his condom came loose. He absent-mindedly plunged back in. The others could hear
him shouting: "Oh! Oh! Whoah! Whoah!" Then there was a loud crack like a pistol shot: where
Ebenezer and his trembling black-haired victim had been lying, there was now only a dark smudge
on the ground. "Be very careful!" yelled Coyote, and with that object lesson in mind, they were.
Finally, the surviving fay-catchers had shot their bolts. Coyote commanded the stricken fays to
get up, and they did, sobbing and holding their heads down. Then he and his companions marched
them into town.
Here the final part of Coyote's plan was put into effect. The humans had used the Acme lumber to
construct a vast gallows, big enough for twenty, in the main square. Twenty nooses, made of the
special, heavy-duty rope, were already in place. (Thanks to Ebenezer, only nineteen would be
needed!) The girls began to scream and carry on once again when they saw their destination.
Ignoring their cries, Coyote marched them up onto the wooden platform and put each girl behind a
noose. A team of hangmen had to climb ladders to slip the nooses around the waiting necks.
Coyote thought it best to let the girls get it out of their systems, so he waited for the screams, wails,
and sobs to die down somewhat. Then he spoke: "You've been bagged, and you=ve been broken. Now it's
time to die. Any last requests?"
The leader looked at him, all her haughtiness gone. "Y-you'll let us die with our boots on?"
"Of course."
"Th-thank you." She put her head back down.
Coyote now gave a signal. One of the hangmen pulled a lever, and the platform dropped. Oh how
their big beautiful legs kicked! They kicked as if kicking could save them. Of course it couldn't,
and so, after a while, they died. How beautiful they still were, swaying there in the early evening
breeze, those lovely legs hanging down! Coyote was overcome with a kind of melancholy, and
blew them a kiss.
To fulfill the agreement, Coyote was given the body of the leader (she was delicious!), plus
the money he and Alonzo Graft had agreed on. Buffalo girls were never again a source of trouble.
Go figure!
POSTSCRIPT
The great wolf spider, Melkor, oldest and largest of his kind, had a few tried and true methods for catching buffalo girls. One, which he was using now, was to get as close to a herd as the forest cover would allow, then burst out at a full dash. The herd itself, as it surged away from him, revealed beyond any dispute who was weakest, slowest. He then pursued that one girl until he had her.
So it happened now. One black-haired beauty, despite her best efforts, fell behind. She was still a little faster than Melkor, but sooner or later, she would tire, and he had no intention of slackening his pace until she did. He could hear her breath grow more ragged. He could see her gate become more like a headlong stumble than a run. Foolishly, instead of concentrating on the plain in front of her, she kept glancing back, her eyes wide with fear. It was no surprise when she tripped on a stone and fell forward onto her hands and knees. As she struggled to get up, she turned her head back one more timeBand now found herself looking into Melkor's four larger eyes, just inches away. She screamed and fainted.
Melkor wasn't cruel--far from it. But, unconscious or not, she had to be secured. He plunged his needle-like fangs into her mons Veneris and gave her just enough venom to insure she wouldn't escape. Then he gently picked her up in his great jaws and started the long walk back to his lair. He held her at the waist, navel up; her booted legs, her arms, and her luxuriant hair all hung down and swayed with the rhythm of his eight-legged stride.
When he got back to his lair--really a gulch between two steep hillsides, he laid her down next to the two other buffs he=d caught that day. Then he spun out enough web to bind her arms to her sides and fasten her bottom to the floor of the gulch. He rested now, waiting for her and her new companions to awaken.
He dozed off for perhaps an hour, only to be roused by the sounds of whimpering. He got up, and when he did, the three girls, who were now wide awake, began to shriek.
"Oh relax," he said. "I'm not going to do anything yet."
"W-when, then?" said the girl he'd caught most recently.
"When am I going to kill you? Pretty soon. If you have any pressing business still undone, now's the time to conclude it."
The girl lying next to her spoke (this was a blonde, buxom even by buffalo girl standards): "Maybe, sir, I could help you out. I know a place in the forest where an especially large herd likes to stop for water every three days. If you were to . . . ."
"Please, Miss, let's not even get started," said Melkor. "There's a big difference between those ladies and you: I haven't caught them. Maybe you know the old spider saying: 'A bush in the hand is worth two in the herd'? You're wasting time that should be spent getting your affairs together."
"But I . . . I don't want to die!" said the blonde, and began to sob uncontrollably. Soon the others had joined her, and the gulch reverberated with their noisy weeping.
"That's exactly the spirit," said the spider. "You don't want to die, but you have to. So cry till you're all cried out. It really does make it easier."
Now the third girl (another brunette, but with shorter, curlier hair than the first) mastered her grief and fear sufficiently to speak: "You're (sob) not so tough!"
"I beg your pardon," said the spider.
"You sit there thinking you're so slick 'cause you've got us all scared and tied up and (sob) wetting ourselves. How long did it take you to bag us all: a whole day? I heard the Coyote caught twenty buffs in five minutes. Whaddaya say to that?"
Melkor had heard of Coyote's recent buffalo girl mop-up, so he knew that what the girl was saying was substantially true. He was surprised to discover that he was now getting very irritated.
"I fail to see the relevance of that alleged exploit. It doesn't make you any less caught, and it doesn't make me any less the one who caught you."
"Yeah, well, it makes you a hell of a lot less a buff-girl catcher than Coyote! I had a (choke) twisted ankle; that's the only reason you got me! The only reason!"
"Miss, you need to be composing yourself for what's about to . . . ."
"Ahh, compose this!" she said and kicked at him with both of her long, powerful legs. She wasn't close enough to reach him, but he knew he would have felt it a long time if she had.
"That's enough!" he said, his anger flaring. "That's it! It's time to finish up, and guess what, my curly-haired little friend: you go first!"
As he advanced on her, her bravado vanished as quickly as it first appeared. She screamed pitiably when he grasped her legs and shoved them apart. "I'll be good now, I swear!" she cried. He ignored her pleas and went to work.
To be killed, a buffalo girl must first be penetrated and brought to orgasm against her will. So Melkor readied his pedipalps by charging them with sperm and then distilling some of his venom onto them (the mix of venom and sperm is what does the trick: climax and death in one heady dose). Then he gradually worked a palp into the girl's cunt.
"Oh gods oh gods, you're killing me you're killing me you're killing me!" she cried. (Buffalo girls are an all-female race and use their tongues to inseminate one another; the bulbous pedipalp is a lot more than they're used to accommodating.)
"That's the idea," said the big spider, then switched palps. She groaned, wept, and kicked with the bigness of it--the painful pleasure. Not just her pussy, but soon every molecule of her body was wracked by tremors no buff-girl lover could ever have induced. She climaxed--not one time but seven, and each time uttered an unearthly wail. As the last fearsome orgasm subsided, she said, in a barely audible voice: "I'm dead; oh gods I'm dead." And then she was.
Melkor now turned to the buxom blonde. "I was good the whole time!" she cried. "I didn't cause any . . . ." She never finished, screaming instead as the palp worked inexorably in. "It really doesn't matter," said the spider. She came nine times (wailed nine times) before the venom killed her.
Then it was the turn of the last girl caught. "M-may I say something?" she asked.
"Quickly."
"I . . . I was weak and slow," she said. "It was only a matter of time. I-I'm glad it was you and not . . . the Coyote."
"Why?" asked the spider.
"He's . . . cruel. He likes to hang his victims. I know we all go coming, but that . . . that must hurt more."
"Yes," said the spider, "I think it must."
She spread her legs. "I won't fight it," she said. "I'll cry . . . but I won't fight it." And she started to sob once again.
"That's best," he said. "It hurts less that way." And then he killed her, as he had the others--but not before she had climaxed ten times. Her wails could be heard for a mile or more.
When it was over, he wrapped each girl up in a moisture-proof silk bag. Into these he pumped a powerful digestive juice that turned the three buffs into a nourishing broth within seconds. He drained one of the bags and saved the others for later. Then he brooded for awhile. Curly-Hair's taunts had wounded him more than he thought. Who was this presumptuous Coyote, who took prey that didn't belong to him? Some were now calling him the greatest of hunters. Not while Melkor lived, he wasn't! It was time, the spider thought, to pay a visit to the mesa-lands.
THE END (for now)