Thread: LM 05/03/2010 New Monsters and Double-Blind Story Repository

No comments or reviews, please. This is an official contest thread.

story #1 - link

Anonymous
Official Contest Entry-New Monsters and Double-Blind

The Blind Judge

As bucolic pasture to treasury gold, thus also Athena's avatars.

Once Fooled

Like bloody zit-juice squeezed from over-ripe pimples, Torman-Hammer erupted from the underworld.

"Not invited,' said Parthenos, inspecting her décolletage for slime-spatter. Only the debutante-aunt, she nevertheless wore the virgin-peplos, for clothes hung her sister Polias like a stick.

"A staining of the marble," agreed Polias. "The Acropolis patio is no bandy-legged-urchin-dias."

"Looks apish," added Parthenos, "Walking inside-out. Muddy-soled. Neckless-frogsnout-weakshoulder-slimefactory. Wretched." She pulled at the split bodice, still intent on contamination, revealing ivory nipples.

"Hung like a horse," murmured Polias. "Dragging pavement. How's it work, up in his chest? Quite horsey!... SISTER PLEASE!' She glared at her sister and slapped Parthenos' hand from the adamantine bosom; from incipient self-stimulation, presumably involuntary.

"At Sowe'uh's banquet, you should expect monsters," said Parthenos, stung. "Even if she's pretty as me, she's still your daughter. Olives don't fall that far from the tree." She looked at Torman-Hammer. "Unless stolen by a toad."

Polias turned abruptly. "You there," she said, "Escort that monster out."

Awaiting beloved Sowe'uh's presentation, I'd hidden behind the two, like Cinderella's Prince from the step-sisters. I'd expected my own expulsion and so hurried to comply.

"I Torman-Hammer," the monster said. "I carry fertile seed. Females are promised."

"Unexpectedly conversant," thought I. "Albeit directed skyward." A big-belly frog, stood up ape-man-like, head reversed so eyes below sky-gaping mouth; Torman-Hammer pictured. Excepting the horse business. Between arm-thin bow-legs, still swaying slightly and slobbering ectoplasmic slime, hung an enormous scrotum. Running up his proximal side, an attached sheathskin.

"Females," I repeated. "This way please." He walked stiffly past the sisters. A pink dagger slit-flicked at his sheath termination.

We trudged gateward. He told a tangled tale, reminding me of Hebrew fantasia. Child sacrifice and inheritance theft. His rescue to this world. Escaping with the forefather-seed, which required, he insisted, immediate planting.

As we stood aside, Sowe'uh's procession halted under the arch. Save only prepubescent train-virgins, she waved entourage away.

Her face turned past me to Torman-Hammer. Was there recognition in her brief glance? He executed a bow, consisting mostly of bouncing the flagstone with those things.

"All is in readiness," she told him. "During my entry, the sisters isolate in the Dark Temple. You go that way."

I knew my way around Acropolis, being a novitiate, though of Dionysus. But our order embraced Sowe'uh, His perfect mate. She pointed to a hidden adit, recalling something. "Cirgel, isn't it?" she asked me. "You're a Bacchanalite." She glanced my package. "Show him the way. Please?"

My Shame

"Yyyyes, I'mmmmm Ccccirgggggel," I attempt answering, but only nod.

Quick as a frog's tongue, she snatch-grabs ahold the pink dagger. "Do not fail me," Sowe'uh warns Torman-Hammer, "Or holocaust awaits you."

Apparently stimulated by threats, he turns eagerly toward the path. His weapon rises above his head, sharp and undulating, like the Persian flame sword.

Sowe'uh touches my arm and we kiss for the first time. Me mostly. Bent down. On her extended knuckles.

New Monsters and Double Blind Official Entry

Satyricon

by anonymous


An unobtrusive orchid, green flowers just barely rising above the marsh grass. The wizards would pay a premium price for this rare bloom. Amber reached forward.

“Don’t touch that!”

Amber whirled around. A satyr stood right behind her. How had he managed to sneak up on her? The ranger slid her arm down toward her dagger. The satyr moved, quick as a fly, and grabbed her wrists, twisting them behind her, pulling her close. Earthy satyr musk filled Amber’s nostrils.

“A human – woman?” he said, anger fading. His dark eyes traced her body’s curves down and returned to her face. Amber averted her eyes.

And saw something . . . odd.

Something drifted out from the foliage behind the satyr. It was shaped roughly like a potato, but five feet long and floating several feet above the grass.

The satyr shifted its grip, grasping both Amber’s wrists. With its free hand, it caressed the captive woman.

The thing moved gently toward the unaware satyr, glistening with shiny wet bubbles bordered by charcoal flesh. Short twiglike appendages protruded from amongst the bubbles, and many long stalks that looked like grass but waved with their own purpose. Green-flowered orchids like the one in the marsh grass grew on top.

The satyr growled, its lust rising, and it stroked Amber’s neck.

The thing moved closer, as though propelled by a gentle breeze. Amber saw, over the satyr’s shoulder, that the stalks had sharp points.

The satyr’s claws grasped Amber’s tunic, ready to rip and tear.

A stalk bent rapidly and pierced one of the thing’s bubbles with its needle point. There was a sharp explosion, a whir of air, and a thunk, as of an arrow hitting home. The satyr fell forward, pinning Amber beneath it, musky sweat dripping on her face. The satyr’s pupils widened and its body jerked into seizure.

Amber froze, watching the thing float over the satyr above her. Tendrils squeezed out from the flesh, dropping down to latch into the fur and skin of the spasming satyr. The tendrils retracted, pulling the fleshy bubble creature down to the satyr, inches from Amber. Its body touched the satyr, which went limp. There was a clatter, and the bubble-thing rose, lifting the satyr off Amber.

The thing floated away with its prey, leaving Amber encircled by small stones and bits of bone. She rolled over and stealthily began to crawl away. There was another pop, and she felt a dart hit her leg. Blackness overcame her.

When she woke, the thing was gone. She breathed in relief. It was a defensive dart, that was all, meant to immobilize her until the thing got away with its dinner.

Amber had been lucky. The swamp was not usually so forgiving. She rose, but couldn’t get her balance and fell. She tried again and fell again. Her feet –
Amber pulled off a boot.

And saw her hoof. On the end of her satyr's leg.

Story 4 - link

Story #5 - link

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Story #8 - link

The competition is now closed to submissions. Judges, you may begin. Scores are due in my pm box by midnight EST next Sunday, June 13.