Tamed by the Creature from the Lagoon

by Clea Kinderton

  It’s just runoff. From the roof.

  I pulled back the sheet and swung my legs over the side of the bed, feeling the cool wood floor with my toes.

  A premonition of evil swept through me, and I jerked my feet back onto the mattress, ankles tingling.

  You’re losing your mind. Now you think there’s a monster under the bed? What next, a monster in the closet?

  I willed myself to put my feet back down, refusing to submit to a childish fear.

  See? No scaly hands wrapping around your ankles.

  I stood up, gripping the rifle in my hand. Cautiously, I unlocked the door. The soft click seemed unnaturally loud, a dead giveaway to any intruders. I swung the door open with a creak and peered out. The cabin was dark and still. I ran the two steps to the bathroom, my skin crawling as I imagined the thousand amorphous dangers lurking in the shadows. I shut the door quickly behind me and flicked the switch, but nothing happened.

  I felt my heart skip a beat. Still no power.

  That shouldn’t have surprised me. A consequence of living in a sparsely populated community with an old infrastructure. It probably wouldn’t be back for hours.

  I fumbled around in the dark until I found the sink and turned on the tap. I leaned the rifle against the wall and splashed water on my face. In spite of the storm, the air actually felt hotter than it had earlier. My back and neck were drenched with sweat, and I briefly considered peeling off my tank top; but I was too unnerved to go walking around the cabin topless, even in the dark.

  I licked my lips. My mouth felt cottony. I was parched.

  Another flash of lighting illuminated the room through the tiny window. I saw a glimpse of my face in the mirror and the closed shower curtain behind me. I looked terrified.

  Calm down, I ordered myself. You’re a grown woman, Kate, not a child. There’s no one else here. There’s no Fish-Man. You have a rifle, for Pete’s sake. You’re not in any danger.

  I stood leaning on the sink until I felt somewhat more composed and then decided to grab a cooler from the kitchen. I wasn’t going to be getting to sleep any time soon so I might as well make the best of it.

  I took the rifle and held it firmly with both hands, ready to raise it at a moment’s notice as I walked down the hall. I was probably just being paranoid, but the solid wood of the gunstock made me feel better. Every shadow looked like a monster waiting to jump out at me.

  When I got to the kitchen, I set the rifle down on the counter. I felt my way around the island, stubbing my toe on the footstool. It squeaked across the floor and I cursed. I held onto the counter, sucking my breath through my teeth until the pain went away and then opened the refrigerator and rummaged around in the dark until my fingers closed around a bottle. I hoped the power came back on before my food spoiled.

  I unscrewed the cap and took a sip of the cool, sweet, lime-flavored liquid. I was beginning to feel a little more normal. I was standing in the middle of my kitchen in the dark and nothing bad had happened to me yet. My fear was completely unfounded. Childish.

  A loud bang and bright white light almost made me drop the bottle. My heart leapt into my throat.

  It’s just thunder.

  I leaned back against the counter, resting one hand on my chest, trying to will my heart to slow down.

  As I stood there in the dark, trying to calm myself, an unusual noise caught my attention: the sound of the wind and the rain seemed just a little too loud for some reason, and, unless my mind was playing tricks on me, I felt a bit of a breeze. It was almost as if the front door was open...

  I walked over to the fridge and peered around the corner into the hall. A flash of lightning illuminated the gap of the open door.

  I almost had a heart attack.

  I set down the bottle and grabbed my rifle, straining my ears. I could hear the water dripping on the porch outside. There was a smell, too; a familiar one. The rank smell of the lagoon. It was far stronger than it should have been. I’d been so worried about what I might see, that I hadn’t paid any attention at all to my sense of smell.

  I held up the rifle, my hands trembling, and quietly scanned the living room.

  A gust of wind squeaked the door open even farther.

  Rain blew into the room on an angle, drumming against the wood floor as the wind scattered the papers that had been neatly stacked on the table. Someone, or some thing had forced opened the door. There was no way the wind could have pushed it open, and I was sure that I’d locked it. There was another flash of light and I saw that the door frame had been splintered. There were bits of wood lying on the floor in the threshold. That must have been what I’d heard.

  I swung the rifle around in a circle, looking for the intruder, heart hammering in my chest. It was too dark to see anything.

  “Who’s there?” I said in a loud, shrill voice. I sounded almost hysterical. “Come out where I can see you. I have a gun.”

  I heard a sound behind me and spun. The rifle came to an jerking halt, as if it had struck something. A moment later, I felt it wrenched from my hands. It clattered onto the floor somewhere across the room and a rough, scaly hand closed around my throat.

  Oh my God, no! It’s happening! It’s really happening!

  There was another flash of lightning. Huge, dark eyes, like two bowls of ink, glistened in the darkness, hovering over two rows of long, pointed teeth.

  I screamed.

  Chapter Twelve

  In the gloom, it was impossible to make out more than the general shape of the creature’s head and the broad, powerful shoulders. But it must have been at least seven feet tall. I tried to jerk away, but it held on tight. Its fingers felt like they were made out of steel.

  I clawed at its hand, grunting, trying to free myself. It made a strange hissing sound, like a reptile, and raised its arm by a couple of inches, forcing me to stand on my tiptoes. I let out a frightened squeal and held onto its wrist to keep myself from being strangled. I knew that it could have crushed my neck like a straw, but it just held me there, staring at me. A strange, low croaking rumbled from its throat, like the sound of a giant frog, and a peculiar odor, like wet grass, filled my nostrils.

  I was practically unhinged with terror. I struggled, and yet, on some level, I must have realized that it was pointless. I was like a rabbit in the claws of an eagle; even if I’d been ten times as strong as I was, it wouldn’t have made any difference.

  “Please, please,” I whimpered, blubbering. There were tears streaming down my face.

  The creature made a trilling sound, cocking its head oddly, as if to look at me better, and then grabbed my arm with its free hand. It let go of my neck and the moment my feet landed on the ground I swung my fist at its face. It caught my wrist easily and jerked me about, dragging me deeper into the living room.

  “Let go,” I shouted, struggling to free myself. “Let go let go let go!” I couldn’t stop thinking about what Courtney had said.

  “It had its winkie out.”

  It spun me around and gave me a shove. I staggered backward, tripped over my backpack, and fell onto the couch. I tried to scramble to my feet, but it pushed me back down. It brushed the coffee table aside with a crash and I heard my books thumping across the floor. I kicked. It grabbed my ankle and jerked my foot up over my head, half-lifting me from the couch. I kicked with my other foot, but it caught that one, too. It raised its arms until I was practically upside down, my head and shoulders on the seat of the couch. I clung to the cushions, screaming and wriggling, but the more I struggled the tighter it held me.

  Eventually, I exhausted myself. I simply had no more strength. It let go of me and my feet thumped to the floor. I pushed myself back into the couch, trying to sink into the cushions. The creature hovered over me, a black mass in the darkness, scales and eyes gleaming with every flash of lightning.

  “What do you want?” I shouted, angry and frustrated.

  Some part of me knew that it wasn’t here to kill and devour me. If it had wanted
to, it could have easily done so. It was here for some other purpose.

  You’re a scientist, Kate. This isn’t complicated.

  There could be only one other reason.

  The creature leaned down, placing its face closer to mine. The gleaming contours of its head were a cross between a Coelacanth and a human.

  The creature extended its tongue, running it up my neck and over my cheek, coating me with slime. The wet grass smell was unmistakable.

  I grimaced, putting my hands on its chest, trying to push it back, but it was like trying to move a boulder. Its skin was cool and moist, both smooth and scaly, and I could feel its massive rib cage rising and falling beneath my palms. It was as big as a bear. I realized, with some consternation, that my fear was slowly transforming into something else. Scientific curiosity, perhaps, but a curiosity bursting with excitement.

  It’s real. It’s really real. And it’s even more amazing than I’d imagined.

  I’d discovered a new species. I was going to be famous. That is — if I lived to tell the tale.

  The creature cocked its head again. It almost appeared to be thinking. It licked the other side of my face, making me cringe, and then tilted its head once more, blinking.

  Is it ... tasting me?

  Maybe it simply didn’t know whether or not I was edible?

  I felt something cold and hard against the skin of my sternum. I looked down in time to see its long, sharp, curved claw tear my tank top right down the middle.

  “No! Stop!”

  I grabbed its wrist but it was futile. The halves of my top parted, exposing my breasts. I was breathing hard, my chest rising and falling rapidly. Some dim part of my awareness realized that I wasn’t fighting with all of my strength; that I felt a sort of lassitude, as if I didn’t entirely object to this. It shook its hand free and placed its broad, cool palms on my breasts, cupping them, gently squeezing and kneading them, testing their weight and firmness.

  This can’t be happening. This is all just a fucked up nightmare. Any moment now I’m going to wake up.

  I remembered to resist, and pulled ineffectually at its wrists, making a pathetic whining sound. My nipples had grown hard and sensitive against its palms and I felt a fluttery, tickling feeling down below. I raised my feet and tried to push the creature away with the strength of my legs. The creature shifted back half an inch, made a raspy, hissing sound, and then leaned forward, pushing my legs back until my knees were almost even with my face. I felt completely exposed. Vulnerable.

  It moved its hands away from my breasts and its curled claws hooked inside the waistband of my underwear. It jerked my panties back and up, almost pulling me off the couch as it yanked them up to my knees. I screamed, somewhat half-heartedly, but the creature took little notice. It tried to free my underwear from the backs of my knees, then tore them in two in frustration, ripping them as easily as paper.

  I was completely naked, now. Lying on my back on the couch, my head propped up against the back cushion, my legs in the air, my sex exposed to it. I could no longer deny the excitement that mingled with my terror. I felt a tingling warmth down below, a moistening as my body prepared for the inevitable.

  Aren’t you just ... a little bit curious, Kate? Scientifically?

  The last word came with mocking laughter. I remembered the dream, the bench, the scaly hands on my hips, the moment of penetration, the rhythmic thrusting.

  I shook my head.

  No. No, I don’t want this. I don’t.

  But this second voice was weak. A sham. Play-acting. I knew I was lying to myself.

  My clit felt swollen, throbbing; the moisture on my labia was cool in the breeze blowing in through the open door. I was sopping wet. Could I really deny the evidence of my own senses? My heart was pounding in my chest, my breath deep and fast, my cheeks flushed with warmth. I had all the physical symptoms of strong sexual arousal.

  I could deny it all I wanted, but that wouldn’t make it true.

  I felt something long and rigid and smooth brush the inside of my thigh, leaving a wet trail on my skin. A thrill of horror and exultation shuddered through me.

  It’s going to do it. It’s really going to do it.

  I felt some last vestige of shame and hit it in the chest and shoulders, slamming my fists against its thick, scaly skin until they were raw and sore. I was angry at it. Angry that this beast, this monster, this evolutionary abomination could make me feel things I didn’t want to feel, long for things that no one should long for. The beast ignored me. Its powerful hands spread my thighs, shifting me into position. A flash of lightning illuminated the glistening length of its shaft, bobbing menacingly as it angled to find my reproductive passage. It was almost as big as a cucumber, gleaming with moisture.

  “It had its winkie out.”

  Oh God. Oh dear God.

  I felt the slick tip stroke the length of my slit. I moaned, but out of fear or arousal I couldn’t be certain.

  The creature wiggled the tip up and down, gently teasing my petals apart, and then forced itself in. Its slippery girth felt massive, terrifying. It stretched me wider than I’d ever been stretched before.

  I groaned, shivering as the beast’s gargantuan cock opened my vagina. Its member was incredibly slick, almost completely devoid of friction. Despite its width, there was no pain or discomfort, only a feeling of delicious pressure and fullness. The creature was bearing down on me, pushing my knees up to my ears, its clammy, webbed hands wrapped around the backs of my thighs. I could feel every inch of its monstrous member as it stroked my G-spot and finally butted up against my cervix.

  The Fish-Man — for that’s what it was — began making strange clicking sounds in its throat, a sound somewhere between a frog and a cricket. Once again my senses were invaded by that peculiar odor, that strange musky scent that smelled like wet grass. I found it strangely alluring, both relaxing and stimulating.

  Is that ... some kind of pheromone?

  The creature bent forward, extending its tongue, and licked my cheek. I cringed less than I should have this time, but made another valiant attempt to wrestle free, acting out of pride. It hissed threateningly and tightened its grip, its cock twitching vigorously inside me.

  The creature was excited. And its excitement excited me.

  I tried to relax, patiently enduring the slimy strokes of its tongue on my face as the beastman proceeded to copulate with me.

  The strong, smooth, steady thrusts — stimulating my most sensitive areas with exquisite pressure — was having an undeniable effect on me. My heart no longer raced with terror, but thumped with excitement. My breathing was deep and steady now, no longer rapid and panicked, and my body was slowly beginning to unwind into a state of receptive heat. All of the horror that remained seemed to be confined to my head, to the proper, civilized part of the brain that was filled with morals and inhibitions. My sense of propriety was outraged, but my body had no objections whatsoever to mating with the beast.

  For a time, I struggled to fight my physical desires with my thoughts, tried to push away my ever-mounting excitement as the first lush thrills of an incipient orgasm spread their treacherous tendrils through my body. I could feel my muscles tightening, feel the currents of biological electricity flushing my belly, breasts, and cheeks with warmth. Its cock felt tremendously good inside of me, perfect, intoxicating, like nothing I’d ever felt before. Not only was the long, thick, slippery shaft filling me to capacity, but it had begun to tremble rhythmically, almost as if it were vibrating, just like it had in the dream.

  It’s not fair. I’m not supposed to be enjoying myself. Not like this. Not with this beast. But — oh God! — it feels so good!

  The Fish-Man began to thrust harder, every thrust a little more frantic than the last. It was growing more and more aroused, more and more eager. It began to shudder, and the sounds emerging from its throat were more intense, almost a vibrato. Every tiny tremble and tremor of its body transferred itself to me until I was in a c
onstant state of almost painful excitement. After several minutes of rapidly escalating tension, spurred on by the strong, smooth strokes of its cock, I felt a sudden, agonizing, breathtaking release and my body exploded with pleasure. My cunt contracted around the creature’s cock, squeezing it firmly and pulsing rhythmically as I bucked. Waves of orgasm rolled through me, splashing over me, covering me in goosebumps of pure delight. I shook and trembled against the beast, and my loud moans echoed from the walls of the room, competing with the wild whipping of the wind and the deafening roar of the thunder.

  The creature let out a loud, croaking hiss, like a cry of pain, and tossed back its head. It tightened its grip on my thighs and the base of its cock began expanding and contracting rapidly, like a balloon being inflated and deflated inside my vagina. I moaned, distraught but excited by the sudden sharp increases of pressure which throbbed rhythmically against my G-spot. The strange transformations kept us locked together; there was no way for the creature to withdraw, or for me to dislodge him. The remaining length of its shaft strained inside me, and cool, wet bursts of semen flooded my belly like a river, rapidly filling me to capacity.

  My initial orgasm had merged into a series of rolling orgasms, each stronger than the last. I felt completely liberated, as if I’d transcended all possibility of fear and pain. Nothing existed but the sheer, exquisite joy of this carnal bliss.

  We stayed locked together for a very long time, perhaps five or ten minutes, and then finally, the creature’s penis stopped inflating and it began to pull out.

  Our bodies separated and I felt a long trail of Fish-Man semen drip down from my gaping hole. I stretched out my legs, letting my heels rest against the floor, suddenly aware of my exhaustion. My cunt was still throbbing pleasantly, stretched as wide as it had ever been, a warm glow of satisfaction filling every inch of my body. The beast made a low trilling sound and retreated into the shadows, moving with a strange, shambling grace, the floorboards creaking under its weight. I watched as it passed through the open door and vanished in the darkness and the rain.