Posted by C on September 01, 2002 at 17:19:27:
Caution: This one has male victims.
FRAGMENT FROM A COLLABORATION
(Fragment Two)
By C
Before they had gotten very far down the river, Thief suddenly fell back into the canoe and began to snore. Coyote and Catgirl had to do all the paddling now.
"Could this guy be any more obnoxious?" said Catgirl. "I mean-he makes you seem almost tolerable by comparison."
"Thanks," said Coyote. "I guess we'll just have to bear up . . . at least for the time being. And in answer to your unspoken question: no, he can't be killed."
"Darn," she said, baring her teeth.
They paddled on for a while in silence. Then Catgirl brought her fist down on one of the gunwales. "God! God! God!" she cried. "I just can't stand the per-fucked-up-vasive sexism of this crappy little fantasy world! Here I am, more than capable of depantying a whole tribe of New Gotham fay-bitches all by myself, and I'm stuck with you two! A sexist jerk and . . . and . . . whatever the next thing is beyond a sexist jerk! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"
"Really, it's not so bad as all that," said Coyote. "May I tell you a true story?"
"Oh why the hell not," said Catgirl.
"It's the story of Connie the Merboy Killer, and I think it'll prove you're being very unfair to Mythica."
"Whatever."
"It goes like this: Once upon a time, in the riverside village of Fleur-de-lys, a spunky, adventuresome young miss named Connie ran the local snack bar and bait shop.
Years before, her Grandpap Bertrand Fishermeister had won renown by capturing two wicked mermaid sisters who'd been terrorizing the village. It seems Bertrand was a mean shot with a spear gun. He rigged up a gun that could fire two spears in quick succession. Then, he availed himself of an underwater breathing spell he'd learned from the Witchy Woman, a wise old sorceress who lived near the village. He put on a wetsuit one morning, rowed a small boat out over the deepest part of the river, attached stones to his feet to weigh him down, and then plunged into the water. He settled into the ooze at the bottom and waited. It took hours, but at last the vicious lovelies arrived, attracted by the boat and the hope of murdering some luckless fisherman. They had the heads and torsos of beautiful, black-haired women, and the tails of dolphins.
Grandpap aimed with the utmost care, then sent a spear into each girl's belly. Oh how they squealed! Then they took off, but each spear was joined to a stout cable, and each cable was tied securely around Grandpap's waist. At first it seemed as if the girls would pull him apart, but they were losing blood fast. Soon Grandpap was towing them! It was a struggle, but at last he pulled them out of the water and lined them up, crying for all they were worth, on the river bank.
They begged for their lives, of course. They tried to seduce him with the promise of wishes granted, but their tricks didn't work, for he was quite happy with his present lot. His answer to their pleas was to take two white carnations out of a waterproof bag he kept with him and apply each flower to a mermaid pussy. Such was the power of the carnations that it burned out all the poison from each cunt. "Oh it hurts! It hurts!" they cried. But Grandpap didn't relent until the two flowers had turned blood-red. Then he had his way with each girl until he'd fucked them both to death. Finally, he hanged the evil duo by their tails from a lamppost in the middle of the village. The villagers cheered and took lots of pictures, many of which now decorated Connie's snack bar. 'Nobody gets tail like Bertrand Fishermeister!' some wag said, and soon it became almost a proverb.
Bertrand now had a room at the Fleur-de-lys Home for Senescent Fishermen, but his granddaughter kept the old man's achievement alive in any way she could.
Well, many years had passed since Grandpap distinguished himself. In all that time, Fleur-de-lys was untroubled by wicked supernaturals. Then, one day, a young woman from the village disappeared. Her body was pulled from the river a week later; she had been drained of blood. Another girl met the same fate, and then another. What could be happening?
On a warm Spring day about a month after the first death, the villagers were about their business, when, suddenly, a bright light appeared just above the deepest part of the river. Amazed, everyone looked out over the water. Where the light was brightest, two very handsome boys rose up out of the stream. They were blond, with well-muscled bodies. They looked back at the villagers, and one of them spoke.
'Citizens of Fleur-de-lys!' he said. 'I am Reccared, and this is my cousin Vaballath. We are sons of the two beautiful mermaids who graced you with their presence many years ago. My mother Amalasuntha and my aunt Zenobia bestowed on you this undeserved privilege--and then, some ingrate from among you . . . destroyed them!' (At this, the boy's voice choked with rage.) 'We are here now to exact revenge. We will stay until we have drained the blood from every girl (and every boy) in your village! Before we're done, you'll bow down to us and beg our forgiveness! Don't try to hide your young folk, or send them to safety elsewhere; we've placed a glamor upon you, so that no one may leave or be concealed. We will have our fill of vengeance; of that you may be certain!' With these words, the two boys dived down into the water. Each had a dolphin's tail.
Connie was there and heard it all. Gloriosky! she thought, I've got to go see Grandpap. He'll know what to do!
She grabbed a full coffeepot from the snack bar, then ran to the Home as fast as her feet could carry her. Luckily, visiting hours were not yet over. When she got to his room, Grandpap was seated in his recliner, staring vacantly out the window. As she approached him, the old man started singing:
'Holy moly, shiver me timber!
Give me a whore who's really limber!'
'Grandpap! Grandpap!' Connie cried. 'Fleur-de-lys needs your help!'
'W-who are you? You sure look booty-licious! Come here and sit in my lap!'
'I'm your granddaughter, you old pervert! Merfolk are plaguing us again; you have to come back to your senses!'
'Huhh?' said Grandpap. Spittle began dripping from his mouth.
'I was afraid of this,' said Connie. 'It's java time!'
She found his water glass and filled it to the top with three-hour old snack bar coffee. Then she sat down next to him and forced him to drink it.
'Gaaawrrr-yugghh!' he cried. 'That's awful! I, uh, I . . . .' Just then, the coffee reached his brain. Grandpap cried out, as if in agony, clapped both hands to his temples, and fell backward out of his chair.
'Grandpap!' Connie shouted. 'Are you all right?' In a panic, she knelt down beside him.
Grandpap groaned, then rose unsteadily to a sitting position. 'Not . . . much time,' he said. 'That swill has . . . temporarily augmented my intellect . . . but it won't last. Listen carefully. You'll need . . . an underwater breathing spell . . . from the old Witchy Woman, out by Frogspawn Ditch. Plus, white carnations, to suck the poison out of their pussies.'
'Grandpap, these mers are male.'
'Hmmm, don't know if it works on mer-cock. Give it a try . . . if the carnations turn red, they worked. Don't have any fun with them till the flowers have gone completely red.'
'Grandpap, what are you suggesting?'
'Can it,' said the old man. 'If you're kin of mine, you're a loose-limbed slut. Just be careful. Now . . . you're also gonna need my old speargun . . . I put it in the attic . . . over the snack bar. That and my wetsuit.'
'But Grandpap, I don't know jack about spearguns . . . .'
'Stop interrupting; that liquid manure you fed me is wearing off. You're my granddaughter; you got a natural knack. Just aim, hold your breath, and squeeze the trigger. But remember: all you'll get is the two shots. Now hurry! Time's a-wasting! I wish you the . . . I wish . . . I wish
. . . . Ook, I wish I hadn't just crapped myself.'
'Oh Grandpap! Yuck!' said Connie as she quickly got up.
The old man began once more to sing:
'Oh give me a home
Where the bow-legg'd gals roam,
And my pecker is perky all day . . . .'
Holding her nose, Connie left his room.
Her next stop was the Witchy Woman's shack, right next to Frogspawn Ditch. The Witch was a hard bargainer: by the time Connie left with the spell she needed, plus a little something extra, she'd handed over a one-quarter interest in the snack bar. Well, she thought, in an effort to console herself, one quarter of nearly nothing is . . . even nearer to nothing.
Then she went back to the snack bar, and up into Grandpap's attic. Sure enough, there was the speargun, with two spears, wrapped up in an old wetsuit. She familiarized herself with the mechanism, then loaded the spears. Just then, she noticed two targets painted on the far wall of the attic. She aimed, held her breath, and squeezed: bull's eye! She repeated the procedure . . . and nailed the second target, too! 'I am his granddaughter,' she said out loud.
Dressed in Grandpap's wetsuit, with the speargun slung over her shoulder, she made her way down to the dock. On the way, she plucked two of the whitest carnations she had ever seen. These she slipped into her fanny pack, along with the something extra she'd purchased from the Witchy Woman. She didn't think Grandpap's boat trick would work a second time, so she just uttered the breathing spell and let herself down into the water. Like her grandfather, she'd ballasted herself with stones tied to her ankles, so it was a simple matter to walk across the river bottom till she'd gone midway.
She next tied a cable to each spear and wrapped the other end around her waist. Now it was time for that something extra. She opened the fanny pack and pulled out two large pink blooms, which looked rather like orchids. Each had hundreds of little tendrils attached to it, which started to agitate the water as soon as she brought them out. She released the flowers, and the tendrils, vibrating like cilia, propelled them to a point about ten feet above her head. There they hovered, the big pink petals pulsing with a very un-flowerlike energy. Then she buried herself in the murk and mire till almost nothing was showing. At this point, all Connie could do was wait.
It took a few hours, but at last the boys arrived, drawn by the pulsing rhythm of the flowers. These of course were Cockbaits, underwater plants that enjoy a strange symbiosis with male mers. As the Witchy Woman had explained, merboys are the horniest of critters. If they can't discharge the pints of spunk they produce every month, their pouches rupture, and they die. The Cockbait wraps its petals around a merboy's member and milks him of his jizzum. He gets relief; the Cockbait gets a big burst of protein. To be sure, mers run a risk every time they conjugate in this fashion: there's a very lethal little lake spider that can mimic the flower long enough to wrap herself around a stiff merboy spur; and no mer has ever escaped her embrace. But risk or not, when a boy hears that telltale pulse, he heads right for the source.
True to form, when Reccared and Vaballath saw the two big blooms, they dashed right up, grabbed them, and thrust them over their spurs. The petals fit themselves snugly around both cock and pouch, and then contracted. The boys whimpered with pleasure. It wasn't long before they were coming buckets. Their tails thrashed with each spasm, and they groaned as they were milked. Connie let them have their fill of flower-fucking.
When Reccared and Vaballath had given all they had, their bodies relaxed. The flowers, now sated, slid off. The boys just lay there in the water and began to drift off to sleep. Connie aimed her speargun, held her breath, and squeezed the trigger.
Reccared screamed as the spear skewered his pouch. Vaballath looked over at his cousin to see what the matter might be. Then he screamed, too; another hole in one! Shocked and in pain, the boys nonetheless did just what they should have done: they took off as fast as their tails could propel them. Connie gasped as the cables tightened cruelly around her waist,-then she was off, towed at top speed in one direction, and then another, and then still another. All she could do was cling to the cables and hope they didn't break.
Luckily for her, unluckily for the merboys, the cables held. Blood loss was beginning to tell: slowly but surely, the force exerted on the two lines lessened. At last, the pulling stopped, though the cables continued to twitch and tremble. Connie again sank to the river's bottom. She now began to pull in turn, drawing the stricken boys behind her as she trudged back to the dock. She clambered up onto the wet, rotting wood and lay there for a while, utterly exhausted.
Some villagers were there, and they dragged the boys up out of the water and deposited them on the dock, next to Connie. "Bind their wrists behind them!" she cried, and so someone did. When she had recovered, she got up and had a look at what she had caught.
They were breathtakingly beautiful. Their blond hair was thick and lustrous. They had big, blue eyes, with long black lashes. Their eyelids and lips were green, as were their nipples. Each had a compact, hairless scrotum, shaped rather like a peach,-still very pretty though punctured and bleeding. Their spurs were pointed, not unlike a whale's, and very, very stiff. Below the groin, each had the powerful tail and flukes of an adult dolphin. Both boys were trembling violently and crying their pretty eyes out-which somehow made them even more beautiful.
Connie knew they were evil, but she felt some pity for them all the same. As gently as she could, she pulled her spears from their pouches.
Reccared looked up at her and said: 'Y-you got us! You . . . got us both!'
This seemed to Connie to belabor the obvious, but the Witchy Woman had warned her that mers had a taste for melodrama. 'Let them talk and talk,' she had said, 'as long as they don't talk their way out of your trap.' Connie opted for a brusque reply: 'Yes, I got you both. Your game is over now. You're through.'
'O-over?' Vaballath said. "You . . . you must not know much about us. Promise to let us go, and any two wishes you have will be granted . . . any at all.'
'Any wishes?' she said, and despite her best efforts, the powerful mer enchantment began to work. Unlike Grandpap, she was not happy with her lot. She started thinking of the snack bar and how she wished she were quit of it.
'Anything you desire,' said Vaballath, with a winsome smile that caused a sudden stir in Connie's tummy. That was his mistake; for she looked at him and his cousin and realized what she wanted most of all right now. 'Okay,' she said, 'I'll let you go . . . as soon as I have . . . Reccared and Vaballath!'
'No! No!' they cried, but it was too late. She would have them now, no matter how prettily they begged, no matter what enchantments they used; for whenever a mer grants a wish, it must be fulfilled. And her having them would be the death of them,-as always when a human couples with a mer. She might die, too, but what good would that do them? Their crying before was nothing compared to their convulsive sobbing now.
For the time being, she let them cry. Word of the wicked duo's capture had spread through Fleur-de-lys, and within minutes the whole village was out in force. They had stood silent and amazed for a while, not knowing whether Connie had really carried the day. But now they sensed that the evil pair were truly finished. They cheered, clapped, and laughed, and many begged for Connie's picture. So, grinning broadly, she posed as the two bagged boys trembled and wept at her feet.
At last the happy villagers calmed down a bit. Connie saw her chance and addressed the crowd: 'Citizens of Fleur-de-lys, please heed my words! These wicked mers are caught, but not yet destroyed. I give you my word I will destroy them, but I must do so in private. I will soon offer you proof beyond any doubt that I have dispatched them, but you have to trust me.'
'No! No!' the wretched boys cried.
'Yes! Yes!' cried the villagers.
So Connie knelt down and hoisted a victim over each shoulder. (They were surprisingly light.) She rose to her feet and headed back to her little apartment behind the snack bar. The crowd cheered her as she went.
Once she got inside, she locked the door and carried her unwilling guests into her modest living room. There she laid them out, side by side on their backs.
After a while, Reccared spoke: 'Oh, g-great huntress, you've . . . outwitted us twice! First you
. . . bagged us . . . and then you . . . twisted our m-magic against us. You're . . . too clever, too clever by far!' And he began to cry all over again.
'Yes,' cried Vaballath, 'so very clever! And now for us it's . . .over! Over!' And he burst into tears once more.
Good grief! thought Connie. Some of it was just dumb luck! But it was sort of flattering, so she let them believe what they liked. 'Yes,' she said, 'I outwitted you at every turn. And now your time is at hand.'
'Or . . . or is it?" said Reccared, a new look of hope in his eyes. 'You said . . . you said you wanted to "have" us. You can have us, the wish can be properly granted . . . if you have us as . . . your loyal slaves, scouring the lakes and seas for any treasure you require! That way . . . you could have us forever. Surely that would be better?'
'Yes!' said Vaballath. 'Much better!'
'No,' said Connie. 'No. I mean, you're just too wicked, for one thing. If I blow the chance to put a stop to you, what does that say about me? And besides . . . I've seen those stiff cocks of yours, those pretty, cream-packed pouches. I just
. . . I just want to fuck you to death, so that's what I'm going to do. Do you need to cry a little more? I can wait.'
Vaballath was content with weeping, but Reccared had more to say. 'Oh! Oh!' he wailed. 'You've made us a bed of . . . bitterness and tears! What a world! What a pass you've brought us to: all our wicked beauty . . . undone! Our pouches punctured . . . our cocks all hard and hurty! Waiting to come . . . for the last six or seven times! Then over, over . . . and I don't want it to be over! And this crying . . . it's spoiling my face!'
'No it's not,' said Connie.
'Yes it is; it's making me ugly!'
'No, really. It's making you more beautiful. Caught fays are . . . so beautiful. The more you cry, the more I want to fuck you.'
'You . . . you mean it?'
'Sure,' she said, and she went and got a mirror from the bedroom. Then she held it up, so that the boys could see for themselves how much lovelier capture had made them. Vain creatures that they were, they drew some comfort from this knowledge. No more speeches now; just quiet sobbing from both.
Judging it was more than time, Connie peeled off the wetsuit. Beneath it, she was dressed in only a bra and panties. She then picked up her fanny pack and pulled out the two white carnations. She walked over to Reccared and wrapped one of the flowers around the tip of his spur.
'It burns! It burns!' he cried, 'Oh my God, it burns!' He thrashed back and forth and smacked the floor several times with his tail. Undaunted, Connie kept the bloom in place until it had turned as red as fresh blood. 'That's it,' she said. 'Now I can kill you, but you can't kill me.' Then she applied the second flower to Vaballath's cock. He, too, cried out as his genitals were purged of their poison. The second flower turned as red as the first.
Now for the real fun. She slipped out of her panties, then crouched down over Reccared and impaled herself on his member. He screamed, for the carnation had left him very sore.
'It's all right, sweetie, it's all right,' she said, bending down to kiss his cheeks. 'Cry some more; I'm sure it'll make you feel better.' The boy readily obeyed. 'That's it . . . that's it,' she cooed.
It took a while, but at last a sharp, unrelenting pressure built up in Reccared's groin. He gasped and trembled, and his hips began to buck. 'That's it,' said Connie. 'I'm gonna milk you even better than a Cockbait. That's it, my sweet bad boy!' And soon Reccared was spurting gout after gout of boy cream. It was thick and hot, and Connie groaned as it jetted up her cunt. The boy came six, seven, eight times! And then, of course, he died.
Now it was Vaballath's turn. 'I haven't forgotten you, pretty boy,' said Connie. 'Beddy-bye's just round the corner.' She mounted him, and before long ('that's my boy, that's my pretty boy') he, too, was spurting and dying.
When it was over, Connie looked down at the beautiful, dead boys and said: 'That's all. You can go now.' No one answered. 'Oh well,' she sighed.
It was time to prove things for the villagers. Connie returned to her fanny pack and took out a sharp knife she used for gutting fish. With this, the sliced off the genitals of her two victims. Almost instantly, their bodies disintegrated into a fine white dust. Carrying a cock and pouch in each hand, she walked out of the apartment, to the waiting crowd. Then she raised up her bloody trophies. Everyone cheered, even more deliriously than before.
The Witchy Woman had told her all about merboy genitalia: how they lasted just about forever; and how, even when removed from their owner's body, they still produced, when stimulated, a magical cream. Every woman who tasted it found her complexion improved and her breath sweetened. What's more, the cream was a sure remedy for menstrual cramps. Connie got rich selling the stuff. So did the Witchy Woman, what with her one-quarter share."
"I think the lesson of this story is clear," said Coyote. "If Connie Fishermeister could attain to greatness, then so can you, however sexist this fantasy world may be."
"Oh you just made it all up!" said Catgirl.
"Hardly," said Coyote. "Look to your right. We're passing Fleur-de-lys now."
Catgirl looked over to the south bank of the river, just ten or so feet away. Sure enough, there was a village. On a dock stood a pretty young woman dressed in a wetsuit. At her feet, crying, trembling, and flicking their tails, lay a mergirl and merboy. Each had been speared in the belly. When the young woman saw Catgirl, she smiled and waved. Not knowing what else to do, Catgirl waved back.