Tamed by the Creature from the Lagoon

by Clea Kinderton

  I was trapped.

  I turned and raised the rifle. The Fish-Man was closer than I’d expected. In my fear, I accidentally pulled the trigger, sending a shot far wide of the mark. The Fish-Man scrambled to one side and darted toward the pond. I chambered another cartridge and swung the rifle around, firing a second shot at the creature’s back. The round splashed into the water, disappearing through the ripple left by the Fish-Man.

  I pulled the bolt but the gun was jammed.

  “Oh, no! Not now!” I wailed.

  In a flash the Fish-Man leapt from the pond with a spray of water, its jaws wide in a hiss of rage.

  The creature landed on top of me, knocking me to the ground. The rifle spun through the air, landing several meters away. I stared up at the Fish-Man’s savage, bestial visage, seeing it clearly for the first time in the full light of day. It opened its jaws wide, exposing its long, piercing teeth, each as long as my fingers, and hissed at me with its pointed tongue.

  Terrified beyond my wildest imaginings, I fainted.

  Chapter Eighteen

  When I came to, the monster was pulling my jeans down around my thighs with strong jerks of its webbed hands.

  I watched, too terrified to move. The creature looked up, sensing that I was awake, and cocked its head to one side, regarding me with one big eye. A clear eyelid slid up over its eyeball and then down again, cleaning it. It leaned closer, waving its head slightly up and down, apparently smelling me.

  I was well past horrified. The creature was utterly unearthly. Primordial. Like something from Jurassic Park. Or even older. I felt like I was staring at something over a hundred million years old. Something I should have been seeing stripped of its flesh in a museum of natural history, its limbs frozen awkwardly in place with bars and wires. The Fish-Man got my jeans down around my ankles and then carefully hooked its claws inside the waistband of my underwear.

  I looked around for the rifle and saw the butt lying in the grass, well out of reach. I looked back at the beast’s savage claws, curved like the talons of an eagle, grazing against my soft, quivering belly.

  I did the only thing I could do: I remained perfectly still. I was afraid to even make a sound.

  This time, instead of tearing my underwear to shreds, the Fish-Man peeled them down, pushing them down with my jeans. It seemed to have an understanding now of what clothing was and the general principles by which it worked. The Fish-Man placed its hands on my thighs and spread my legs and bent down, sniffing my sex. A long pink tongue emerged from its wide maw and it started to lick.

  I shut my eyes, clenching my teeth.

  Oh God, Kate. Oh God.

  The creature’s tongue slithered over my labia, soft and slippery, making me swollen and wet. It slid up and down over my folds, curling and coiling like a snake, and then wriggled inside of me. I moaned softly as its prehensile member probed my interior. Its tongue writhed back and forth, stroking me all over, touching me, tasting me. It grazed my G-spot, making me groan and tremble. The creature paused, watching me with its big eyes. It wriggled its tongue around some more until it found the spot that made me clench and gasp and then tightened its grip on my hips and began to stimulate me directly, pressing its tongue up in a thick bundle and rolling it back and forth. I moaned, arching my back, my thighs closing around its head. The base of its tongue was crushed up against my clit, writhing rhythmically as it tongued my pussy.

  Oh God. Oh God. Oh Goooooooooood.

  Oral sex had never felt like this before. It was out of this world.

  My excitement escalated rapidly. The sensations were so exquisite that in a matter of minutes I was digging my fingers in the grass and whimpering in protest.

  No. Not again. Why does it keep doing this to me?

  I felt a sharp flush of heat low in my belly and then a wild rush of excitement. My cunt clenched around its tongue and I groaned with pleasure, pulsating deliciously. My thighs clamped tightly around the Fish-Man’s head and I shuddered from head to toe, in the grip of a powerful orgasm.

  Still trembling, my moans finally subsided, and the Fish-Man drew back its head, licking its face. It grabbed me by the shoulder and gently rolled me over onto my belly. I lay face-down in the grass, still throbbing sweetly as it grabbed my hips and raised my posterior. It shambled forward and hunched down. I felt the slick crown of its cock sliding up and down the length of my slit, smearing precum and juices everywhere. Some distant part of me knew that I should have been throwing myself into a violent protest at this point, but I couldn’t seem to summon the will. I lay passively in the grass, breathing rapidly, not with fear, I now realized, but excitement. It was almost as if ... almost as if I wanted the Fish-Man to mate with me. Its sexual prowess had made me a co-conspirator in perversion.

  A moment later, the tip of its cock was slipping between my folds. It breeched me, forcing my cunt to stretch wide to accommodate its prodigious girth. I moaned, digging my fingers in the dirt, and pushed back into its thrust, taking it deeper. I knew what to expect by now and I could barely contain my excitement. Its long hard cock, as slippery as soap, was throbbing rhythmically inside my cunt, filling me completely. The creature began to thrust, its slick pole gliding smoothly in and out of my pussy. I shivered and tingled with every stroke, and soon I was gasping and groaning enthusiastically.

  Yes. Oh God, yes!

  The Fish-Man thrust harder, accelerating its pace. Its scaly skin slapped against my buttocks repeatedly, making me more and more aroused, and its member started to tremble. I came, biting my lower lip. The sensation was so blissfully good that my whole body began to buck and jerk underneath it. The creature tightened its grip on my hips, methodically pounding my tight hole as it fucked me into a series of increasingly exquisite orgasms. I was breathing so hard and moaning so loud that I thought I was going to pass out.

  Finally, I felt its cock stiffen and explosively swell. It expanded inside of me, fluttering rapidly, and its steely shaft started to pump massive quantities of thick, cool sperm into my cunt. I was delirious now, in a state of almost permanent orgasm as its cock pulsated and vibrated against my G-spot. My whole body was warm and limp and trembling. We stayed locked together for many intensely sweet minutes and then finally its cock relaxed and we separated.

  I lay there for a long time, my face buried in the grass, gasping, trying to catch my breath. Finally I rolled over.

  The Fish-Man was still there, sitting quietly on its haunches, its head turned, watching me intently with one eye.

  I felt somewhat surprised by this. The first two times it had mated with me, it had shambled off almost immediately afterward.

  Reluctantly, I got up, my heart still beating hard in my chest, uncertain what to expect. I pulled up my underwear and jeans. The button on my jeans was missing and the zipper was twisted and broken, but at least the creature hadn’t totally destroyed them. They were snug enough that they wouldn’t immediately fall down. It was raining again, drizzling lightly, but I barely even noticed.

  “Are you just going to sit there?” I ventured timidly, staring at the creature.

  Its throat swelled up like a frog’s and a croak escaped from its mouth.

  I took a step back, startled.

  The more I looked at it, the harder it was for me to decide what it was. Its head was ichthyoid — fish-like — but sitting squat on its shoulders at the end of a short neck, like a man’s. Its legs were too long for its body, and folded frog-like as it squatted, staring at me. Its arms were man-like but very thick and muscular, like a gorilla’s, as were its shoulders and chest. Its hands and feet were reptilian, but webbed, midway between that of a duck and a crocodile. It was hard to tell whether the shimmering silvery scales — darker, almost black on its shoulders, and paler on its belly — were more like a fish’s or a lizard’s. Its long, prehensile tongue, flicking around almost lazily, was somewhat lizard-like, but now that I looked at the creature more closely, I noticed a slightly ophidian, or snake-like, cast to its fa
ce as well. It had gills on its neck which fluttered softly as it breathed, and I’d noticed when it had swelled its neck to croak that it had sealed them tight to hold in the air. All in all, it was a bizarre but fascinating creature, impossible to classify as either a fish, amphibian, reptile, or primate. I would have considered it an alien if all of its features weren’t shared in one form or another by other terrestrial animals. If it came from anywhere, it was deep in the ocean. And deep in Earth’s prehistoric past.

  I realized with some amazement and a little consternation that I’d momentarily forgotten to be afraid of the creature. I’d unconsciously switched into scientist mode. But the Fish-Man was undeniably incredibly dangerous. Like a shark, lion, and gorilla all rolled into one. It was quite possibly the most dangerous animal on Earth. It would have given even a mature grizzly bear a run for its money.

  But despite my curiosity, I knew I couldn’t stay.

  Cautiously, I tried to edge around the creature to continue my journey into town.

  The Fish-Man shifted, blocking my passage.

  The knot in my stomach tightened.

  I tried to move in the other direction and it shifted again, following me. On a hunch, I walked backward, moving in the general direction of the cabin. The creature waited patiently for me to take eight or ten steps and then casually advanced, walking on its knuckles like a gorilla, and then stopped, maintaining the same relative distance we had had before.

  I tried circling around it again, first one way and then another, and again it blocked my passage in both directions. I retreated again, and again it allowed me to move unimpeded. After several more tests, it became abundantly clear that the only direction it would allow me to move was in the direction of the cabin. At one point, I attempted to retrieve Dan’s rifle, but a threatening hiss from the creature warned me away. There was nothing else I could do: I had to return home.

  “Damn you,” I muttered under my breath.

  Now what am I supposed to do?

  I was completely cut off from the rest of the world, with a Fish-Man for a jailer.

  I turned and started to walk back toward the cabin, checking over my shoulder occasionally to see if the creature was following. Like a faithful hound, it kept pace with my movements, staying directly behind and only edging up to one side or the other if I tried to veer from the path. When I got to the trees, it continued to guide me in this fashion, forcing me to maintain a distance from the road. From my current position, even if someone happened to drive past there was no way they could see us. The creature was cunning. Far more intelligent than I’d realized.

  Eventually the cabin came into view. I had held onto a faint hope that Chet’s van would be there, but the lane was empty. The Fish-Man herded me up the stairs onto the porch, and waited patiently at the bottom of the steps while I unlocked the door. With a last resentful look at my captor, I went inside.

  I was now officially a prisoner.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I kicked off my boots, furious with myself for being outwitted by a creature that probably had the IQ of a chimp.

  No, not outwitted, exactly. Simply outgunned.

  I pulled up my jeans, which were sitting low on my hips and threatening to fall down, and uttered an oath. I was running out of clothing.

  A few more days of this and I’ll be running around naked. Like a savage. I grimaced. The Fish-Man would probably like that.

  I walked down the hall to my bedroom and stopped just inside the door, arrested by the sight of a butterfly on the mirror of my vanity.

  It was a beautiful Junonia evarete, or mangrove buckeye, with brown and orange wings that had yellow spots with black centers on them, like eyes. It was crawling across the reflective glass surface, its wings gently rising and falling. I stared at it, utterly baffled.

  How on Earth did it get in?

  I looked over at the window. The shutters were open and the glass was broken.

  I felt something cold and hard press into the back of my neck.

  “Best not make a sound, doll,” said a low, gravelly voice.

  The man pushed the barrel of the gun into my neck for emphasis.

  My breath caught in my throat, a strangled gasp. I nodded to show that I understood. My heart was racing in my chest.

  As if my day could get any worse.

  “Lie down on the bed on your stomach,” said the man. “And don’t try anything stupid.”

  I turned and faced the bed, casting a glance over my shoulder at the man. He was tall, at least six two, with broad shoulders and a strong, chiseled face. His hair was somewhat long, hanging down over his eyebrows, a light shade of brown or dark blond, and it had clearly been a while since he’d shaved. His eyes were dark brown, like black coffee. He had a scar on his cheek, like he’d been cut with a knife. His clothes didn’t seem to fit him very well.

  “You’re the one who escaped from that prison,” I said, dumbfounded.

  How did I manage to attract not only the Fish-Man but an escaped convict? Clearly I’d really pissed off The Man Upstairs.

  I wondered what would happen if I screamed. Would the Fish-Man come running?

  I never got the chance to find out.

  The man’s hand clamped around my mouth and he jammed the barrel of the gun between my ribs.

  “What did I tell you about talking?” he growled. “Keep your mouth shut. If I want you to open it, I’ll tell you.”

  He pushed me onto the bed face-first. I still hadn’t washed the sheets.

  “Put your hands behind your back,” he said. “Wrists together.”

  I did as instructed. I was getting very worried now. My heart felt like it was skipping beats. I felt like I was going to throw up.

  Should I scream? Would he really shoot me in the back of the head to silence me? Or would he just start hitting me until I shut up? Would the Fish-Man come to rescue me? Or would it even understand why I was shouting? For all I knew, it had wandered back into the lagoon. But if I didn’t resist — and soon — I’d be entirely helpless.

  The man tied something around my wrists. A bungee cord. Then he climbed on the bed and sat down on top of me, on the backs of my thighs.

  “Open your mouth,” he said.

  I opened it and he stuffed something in. It was made of cloth and lace.

  Underwear.

  He’d gone through my dresser drawers.

  I heard the familiar stretching, tearing sound of tape and then something sticky was being pressed down over my cheeks and lips.

  I’d had my chance to scream and I’d lost it.

  The man got up and went to the end of the bed and tied my ankles together and then tied them to the bed frame.

  “Don’t go anywhere,” he said, chuckling.

  Har. Very funny.

  I heard him walk out of the room and a moment later he was opening drawers and cupboards in my kitchen. I heard the refrigerator door open and slam shut. There were vague bumping and scraping sounds, and then footsteps thumped back down the hall to my room. He came back in holding a plate with a sandwich on it and one of Chet’s beers. He set the plate down on the bed beside me, sat down, and cracked open the beer.

  “You don’t seem like the beer-drinking type,” he said, leaning against the headboard and putting his muddy boots up on the bed. “You got a man? Should I be expecting someone coming home any minute?”

  Not a man. Not exactly.

  I shook my head then immediately regretted it.

  Stupid. Now he knows you’re alone.

  Henry had always told me I was too honest for my own good.

  The man took a drink of his beer and then nodded, thinking, letting his eyes wander up and down the length of my body. He set the beer down on the nightstand and picked up the plate and then took a bite of the sandwich. I could smell the tuna.

  “What am I going to do with you, Kate?” he said around a mouthful of food.

  Kate?! How does he know my name?

  The man chuckled. He h
ad a cruel face.

  Bill. His name is Bill. Edison? Edgerton? I couldn’t remember.

  “It’s in your diary,” he said, opening the drawer of the nightstand. He reached in and pulled out a thin, hardcover book and tossed it on the bed beside me. “You sure do love your dad a lot, don’t you?” he said, smiling mockingly. “And that Chet fellow. How’d that work out?”

  I glared at him.

  He slapped me hard on the ass, laughing.

  I grunted, clenching.

  “Don’t you worry, Kate. You do what I tell you, we’re not going to have any problems.”

  I tried to free my hands. My buttocks burned where he’d struck them.

  He took another drink of his beer and went back to eating his sandwich.

  “Fish, too,” he said, reflectively. “For a kid you sure did write a lot about fish. What do you do for a living? Sport fishing? Train dolphins at Marineland? Or maybe you just lie around in a bikini all day like a mermaid. I guess that’s a kind of fishing, too.”

  Bill laughed at his own joke. At least he thought he was being funny.

  He set down the empty plate and downed the rest of his beer. He looked me up and down.

  “You’re a fine looking woman, Kate,” he said, slipping his hand down the front of his pants.

  I stiffened.

  This isn’t happening.

  There was a thump. It sounded like something heavy banging against the front door.

  Could it be?

  I didn’t dare hope.

  “What the fuck is that?” said Bill, jerking his hand free. He got up from the bed, pulling a handgun out from the back of his pants.

  Oh no! What if he kills the Fish-Man?!

  The Fish-Man was powerful, of that there was no doubt. But he wasn’t bulletproof.

  I struggled and tried to call out.

  “Shh!” Bill hissed, scowling at me. He was holding the gun as if he was going to bash my head in with it.

  I froze.

  He approached the bedroom door and paused, listening. There was another thump.