by Kim Fox
“Creepe’s towering cock will get wet tonight,” Creepe says with a grin.
It is too much for Cookie Monster to handle. He lunges forward with a booming war cry that would make an army of many fanged beasts run away.
Rolanda screams and steps back in fear. “Get back!” she sings. Cookie Monster cannot understand her words but they do not sound good.
And Creepe is loving it all. “She is telling you to die,” he says with a nauseating smirk. “She wants you to go to the Land of the Nevatrun and never come back.”
“Creepe will protect you,” Creepe says in the beautiful song of the pink Sandroka’s language.
Cookie Monster does not understand. How does Creepe know those funny words?
“How does Creepe talk like her?” the swift Cookie Monster asks. Then he remembers. The black dot. It is attached to the quiver of arrows on his back. The rock man, Tin Tom, gave one to each departing Drandroka, but the noble Cookie Monster was so excited to find his mate that he didn’t listen to how it worked.
Cookie Monster holds it out on his finger. “With this?” Cookie Monster asks Creepe. “How does it work?”
Creepe grins, but he helps Cookie Monster out. “Put it on your cock.”
Cookie Monster’s soum pounds. He will finally be able to speak with his wondrous mate. He lifts up the animal skins around his waist, eager to learn the pink Sandroka’s melodious language. He takes his mighty cock in his hands and Rolanda shakes her beautiful head.
“Geez,” she says in words that Cookie Monster does not yet understand. “He’s pulling his dick out again! What is with this guy?”
Creepe places his hands on her waist and pulls her behind him. “Creepe will protect you.”
The powerful Cookie Monster presses the black dot to his impressive cock and it sticks to the soft blue skin.
“Is he masturbating?” Rolanda asks with a look of horror on her pink face.
But why can’t the noble Cookie Monster understand her words? The black dot is not working as it should.
The vile Creepe’s shoulders are shaking like an erupting volterno. A loud booming laugh erupts from his chest and Cookie Monster plants his feet apart as he watches the malicious Drandroka with his muscles tight and ready. “Tell Cookie Monster how it works or he’ll slide an arrow through your howling chest.”
“It was a joke,” Creepe answers, rubbing the water from his eyes. “You must eat it for it to work.”
The swift Cookie Monster quickly removes the black dot from his cock and tosses it into his mouth, swallowing it down.
“What the hell is he doing now?” Rolanda asks, but Cookie Monster still does not understand. He stomps his robust foot in frustration.
Why is it not working?
“This guy makes me nervous,” Cookie Monster’s mate says as she backs away from him. “Can we leave?”
“Creepe will keep you safe,” Creepe says in the mysterious words that Cookie Monster still cannot understand. “He will protect you. Come.”
Cookie Monster’s soum hurts as they walk away. “Wait,” he shouts. “Where are you taking her?”
The vile Creepe turns with a grin on his nasty lips. “The Seeka tribe.”
“The Seeka tribe?!?” Cookie Monster shouts, his insides raging like an erupting volterno. “They will kill her and eat her!”
“Probably,” Creepe says with a vile smirk. “But not before Creepe stuffs her full of his towering cock. He will take her culip and then what use will she be?”
The powerful Cookie Monster’s vision is as red as the Juju plant. He wants to send Creepe to the Land of the Nevatrun where he will not be able to hurt Cookie Monster’s beautiful mate.
“Rolanda has to return to the village,” Cookie Monster says. “The Saku commanded it.”
“You mean the whore?” Creepe answers. He has no respect. No honor.
“The Saku,” Cookie Monster says firmly. “She is the one.”
If Turic heard Creepe speaking of his mate like this, Creepe would have no head.
He is only half Drandroka. Creepe’s mother was from the Seeka tribe. The eaters of Roka flesh. They are even worse than the many fanged beasts.
The noble Cookie Monster never liked Creepe. He was always more Seeka than Drandroka. Rolanda will not be safe with Creepe and she will not be safe with the Seeka tribe. They will use her like a mating toy and then eat her for dinner.
“She is coming back to the village,” Cookie Monster says as he lunges forward. He wraps his mighty hand around her arm and pulls her out from behind Creepe.
Rolanda’s arm swings out as fast as the strike of a wicker and the rock that she’s holding slams into Cookie Monster’s head. He stumbles backward as thunder erupts behind his eyes.
But it is nothing compared to the hurt of his soum. His mate has rejected him.
Cookie Monster falls to the ground, sitting in the dirt like a pitiful granu. He watches them leave with his mouth dropped open.
Rolanda leaves with the vile Creepe towards the Seeka tribe, speaking together in her magical language. Does she not know that leaving with Creepe will surely mean her end?
six
Thank God for this guy.
My steps are lighter as I walk beside him. He speaks English, he knows where he’s going, and most importantly, his cock has stayed hidden in his loincloth.
I like this new guy. I’ve always been a really good judge of character and I can tell that this guy is a good one. Analyzing people and sizing them up has always been one of my strong suits. It’s something that I take great pride in.
And Creepe is a good one. Not like that other guy, Cock Monster.
It feels so nice to be walking outside in the sunlight after being stuck in the damp dark cave for so long. I close my eyes as we walk, breathing in deep as the heat from the suns washes over my face.
We emerged from the forest about an hour ago and are walking down a long valley with pink grass that tickles my hands as I trek through it. There’s a mountain in the far distance and what looks like another colorful forest off to my far right.
There are two moons visible in the sky, even though it’s the middle of the day. Three suns, each a different size, shine down from overhead but surprisingly, it’s not very hot. It’s nice and mild with a gentle breeze that makes the pink grass wave to me as I walk.
Long white streaks of meteors rip across the sky like scars made out of clouds. Every few minutes you can hear a muted thump as the ground vibrates from a meteor slamming into the planet.
“Oh, shit,” I whisper, freezing where I stand. There are seven or eight huge dinosaurs coming this way. I slink down into the waist-high grass and look up to Creepe for support.
He just grins. “Those are macrinom beasts,” he says with a shrug of his narrow shoulders. “They eat leaves, not scared Sandrokas.”
He doesn’t look nervous at all but this is still a little new to me so I’m not feeling as brave. I peek over the pink grass past his muscular blue thighs. The dinosaurs are the size of buildings and they move just as fast, lumbering forward on their stumpy legs.
Creepe looks bored but I stare in fascination as they slowly cross our path about fifty yards ahead. Their thick heads are massive with short stubby teeth that look as big as my car. Tiny birds dart from head to head, landing on their thick lips and pecking at the food stuck between their teeth. Brave birds.
The dinosaurs have two lines of sharp spikes that trail down their backs to their long swaying tails. They look just as deadly as the T-Rex that I had seen but they don’t seem interested in us in the least.
I can’t get over how big they are. They make our earth elephants look like rodents. How many leaves do these guys eat in a day to get that big? It’s surprising that this planet has any vegetation left on it.
One of the smaller ones dips its head and pops back up with a clump of grass and dirt hanging from its powerful jaws. He chews it slowly, eating the dark soil along with it.
“The
y’re so beautiful,” I whisper as they pass.
“They’re slow,” Creepe says, curling his flat nose up in a look of disgust. “And stupid. Come.”
He storms away and I take one last look at the departing herbivores before running forward to catch up with him.
The rest of the day is not much more than hard hiking with very few stops. Creepe doesn’t talk and seems annoyed whenever I ask a question, answering in as few words as possible.
I did spot another T-Rex in the far distance. He was busy digging his face into a dead dinosaur’s body, ripping out guts and bloody muscle tissue.
I thought that stepping into the caged ring before a fight was the most thrilling thing ever. I was wrong. Being close to a hungry man-eating dinosaur is unreal.
Even Creepe looked nervous, ducking down and picking up the pace. The T-Rex wasn’t the real threat he had explained later. A kill of that size attracts a lot of scavengers who will fight over the scraps of the carcass once the T-Rex leaves with a full belly. Those scavengers would be more than happy to trade those scraps in for a nice juicy pink Sandroka.
We stop for the night once there is only one sun left in the sky and even that one is lowering into the distance, lighting the sky up in brilliant hues of pink, purple and red.
Creepe finds us a cave just as the last slivers of sun are disappearing behind the horizon. I’m warming up by the fire that he made, thankful that I have him here. I still get a cold shiver whenever I think of the Cock Monster chasing after me with his long dick swinging around. Creepe would never do that.
He’s a good one.
“What are you making?” I ask as I tilt my chin up, trying to see what he’s doing. He has a hollowed out shell and he’s mixing in leafs, herbs, and thin roots, grinding them up into a disgusting looking paste. I just hope that’s not our dinner.
Cock Monster was a total pervert but at least he cooked me up some velociraptor steaks before trying to sexually assault me.
“It’s your dinner,” he says gruffly. He aggressively thrusts the shell into my hands and stands over me, glaring down with his hands on his hips.
It smells like a used hockey bag that a fifteen-year-old dog had been sleeping in. Maybe with some rotten eggs stuffed into the pockets.
I curl my nose up as I look up at him. He doesn’t look happy.
“Is there anything else on the menu?” I ask as I glance around the dark cave. I’d rather eat the bugs on the walls than put this anywhere near my mouth.
He doesn’t look amused. “Eat it,” he snaps.
He’s standing there watching me but he hasn’t made himself a bowl. Warning lights start going off in my head. “Where is yours? I’ll wait for you.”
Creepe grinds his teeth together as his blue nostrils flare. “Eat it,” he hisses, his voice sounding even more aggressive this time.
“No,” I say placing the hollowed out shell on the ground between us. Adrenaline starts pumping into my veins when I see the anger on his face. I clench my hands into fists, getting ready for anything.
“No?” he asks with his lips pulled back, baring his teeth.
I slowly rise to my feet, careful to keep some distance between us. I know fighting and I can tell by the way his muscles and veins are straining over his skin that things are about to get ugly.
He’s got a stone ax strapped to his back and a bone knife sticking out of his leather boot.
I have nothing but a sinking feeling in my stomach.
“You ugly Sandroka whore,” he says, spitting on the ground between us. “Eat it or the mighty Creepe will snap your masculine neck and shove it down your disobeying throat.”
My pulse races as I raise my chin, getting ready to make him eat his words. He’s messing with the wrong fucking Sandroka.
“Come on then,” I say as I roll my shoulders forward. “Come and try.”
He grins as I plant my feet and raise my fists. I step back, circling to the right as he grabs the bowl of sticky disgustingness and stands back up in one swift fluid motion.
“You’re worse than that whore Saku,” he hisses as he moves forward.
I plant my forward foot and quickly let out a left jab that lands on his lips. He jerks his head back in shock, but I’m not done. I twist my whole body, rapidly following it up with a right hook that lands right on the button.
That punch would have knocked out every single man and woman in my weight class, but Creepe is not in my weight class. They don’t have weight classes for men his size back home.
He just shakes it off and turns to me with a heated glare. I gulp as I take a step back, circling to the left.
Just twenty or thirty more shots like that and he’ll be unconscious. If my hand doesn’t break before that, or if he doesn’t get a shot in first.
I’m tough as they come but even I won’t be able to stay awake after a hit from those massive fists.
“I’m leaving,” I say as I circle towards the exit of the cave. “You keep your disgusting sludge and leave me alone.”
I should never have left the safety of my cave. The grass is never greener on the other side of this planet. Pink, yes, but green, no.
Creepe lunges forward in a blur when I get to the exit. He wraps his rock hard arms around me and easily pulls me back in. I punch, kick, elbow, knee, bite, and scream but his arms are locked around me like iron shackles.
He throws me to the ground, knocking the wind out of me, and is on me at once. He slams his knee into my chest and pins me to the hard ground as I struggle to breathe.
“Weak foolish whore,” he mutters as he grabs the bowl of paste and turns back to me.
I’m trying to push off his heavy knee that’s crushing my lungs and preventing any air from entering them. I open my mouth but no air comes in.
“You want something in your mouth?” he asks with a grin as he scoops out a glob of paste onto his two fingers. “Eat this and then the virile Creepe will have something to put in your mouth.”
I’m suffocating but the taste of the paste is so bad as he thrusts his two fingers in my mouth that I freak out. I kick my legs and jerk my head from side to side but he doesn’t let me move. Spots start to dot my vision as the lack of oxygen is starting to take effect.
At this point, I don’t even care. I would rather pass out. This stuff tastes that bad.
He shoves a third mouthful of the paste into my mouth and then eases up his hold on me. Glorious air floods my lungs and I would be happy if I wasn’t gagging on the revolting paste.
Creepe holds his blue hand over my mouth, making sure I swallow every last bite, which I’m forced to do. He grins as he steps away, leaving me lying on the ground, coughing and hacking.
“What the fuck?” I hiss at him as the cave starts to spin. “Asshole.”
I pick up the hollowed out shell and toss it at him but I’m so dizzy that I miss by a mile. His blue face starts to warp and elongate as the paste kicks in. It seems to be some kind of a drug.
“No,” I gasp as I see something truly horrifying. My vision is fucked but this is unmistakable. He unties his loincloth and lets it fall to the ground. He steps forward with his cock raging.
“No,” I say, trying to crawl backward but my arms and legs are heavy and already sound asleep. “Get away!”
I’m so confused. I don’t know what’s happening. I only know that it’s going to be bad.
“Go to sleep, whore,” he says as he moves forward with his blurry cock in his hands.
I try to scream back but my jaw is so heavy and nothing comes out. Everything is going dark.
I put all of my energy into my right hand, looking for something to defend myself with. I can barely move it but my heavy fingers wrap around a tiny pebble.
My numb fingers close around it and I toss it forward with a sedated arm. He flies backward from the impact.
Huh?
Everything is so confusing. It was just a little pebble.
But when he steps forward again, it’s not just a
pebble. There is an arrow sticking out of his shoulder with red feathers on the end.
I still don’t understand what happened as the blackness takes over and I pass out.
The swift and powerful Cookie Monster draws another arrow as he leaps into the cave. He keeps it pointed at the vile Creepe’s chest.
“Don’t,” Cookie Monster says as Creepe slowly reaches for the stone ax on his back.
The magical pink Sandroka, Cookie Monster’s mate Rolanda, is lying on the ground, the paste of the burenta still smeared on her lips and chin. She will sleep until the fire eats all of the logs.
“Pontuck, you traitorous gicolat,” Creepe says as he wraps his horrible hand around the arrow in his shoulder. “You shot Creepe.”
“The name is Cookie Monster. And he will sink another arrow into your flesh if you touch his mate ever again.”
Creepe curses as he snaps the arrow sticking out of his shoulder in half. “Go get Creepe the leaf of the Juju plant.”
Cookie Monster shakes his head. “No.” The honorless Creepe deserves to go to the Land of the Nevatrun for putting Cookie Monster’s mate to sleep and trying to hurt her.
“No?” he says, staring at Cookie Monster in disbelief. “You will let Creepe die over this ugly pink whore?”
“Yes,” Cookie Monster answers, pointing the arrow at the softest part of Creepe’s flesh. “You deserve to die. You tried to hurt Cookie Monster’s Rolanda.”
“Your Rolanda?” Creepe says with a frown. “You have always been as dumb as a ganoush, Pontuck. Look at her. She is an ugly pink Sandroka. Hideous. Barely worth fucking and then eating.”
Cookie Monster’s arms tighten as he is forced to listen to the vile coming out of Creepe’s mouth. He wants to let the arrow sail free and end the insults to his mate.
“She is a sex toy,” the horrible Creepe continues, “and an ugly one at that. Look at her body. She’s hard like a Drandroka. At least the whore that you call Saku has soft curves like a Sandroka. She looks like a Drandroka with all of her muscles. Creepe would not be surprised if she had a cock.”
