by Wol-vriey
Just in time, too, he said. He’d heard that Miss Mince Men, the infamous (and greatly feared) sadistic Texan spy-mistress, had taken a fancy to Metal Feather. Seeking to get her out of prison herself, she’d recently chosen her for enrollment in the TSA (Texan Spy Academy).
The Mech-Sioux were eternally grateful to Baker for forestalling this eventuality. The location of the TSA was, by necessity, secret. Once transferred from Fort Worth, it would have been nigh impossible to track her there – not before she was fully indoctrinated.
***
Alice was having trouble resolving the different versions of Baker’s, Big Chief’s, and Metal Feather’s stories into one consistent whole. The details of the story were consistent enough – it was just that each of their timelines were a bit out of sync with the others. For one thing, if Baker had done everything he was supposed to have done, he would have to have been back in Texas at least a year ago, and she knew for certain that he had left New York just two days before her.
***
Back in Tulsa, Metal Feather settled back into life with the tribe as seamlessly as if she’d never been gone. The tribe went out of its way to make her reintegration as painless as they possibly could.
The efforts of the tribe’s young braves were particularly noteworthy and commendable in this regard. Metal Feather was an exceptionally beautiful young woman. She had a metal right forearm, and was negotiating with the engineers for a metal left leg to complement it.
However, she showed no interest whatsoever in any of her male suitors. It was upon hearing this that Big Chief Little John invited her to his teepee for a conference.
“What is the matter, dear Feather?” he asked. “Why do you continue to shun the affections of the tribesmen? Did the palefaces . . . tamper with you in any way?”
Rape was always a delicate topic to broach with women. Left to himself, he’d have preferred leaving this line of enquiry to her fellow wisewomen, but they’d brought the issue of her behavior to him – on grounds that she bluntly refused to talk to them.
Big Chief had assumed she was simply traumatized by her experience, and said he’d agree to speak with her.
“No, my chief,” Metal Feather said. “It’s just that . . .”
Within the privacy of his teepee, she abruptly wrapped her arms around him. “. . . it’s you I love, not those young braves.”
Big Chief was stunned. He was a widower, so he could marry her, but still . . . this was all so sudden, and whatever would Delicate Rose say? As the tribe’s headman, he was constantly having to resolve all sorts of difficulties between mother-in-laws and daughter-in-laws of the same age.
But then, Metal Feather was extremely beautiful.
Big Chief gently pushed her away. He saw that she was crying. He pulled her back close to him. “It’s okay my dear, I’m sure we’ll work something out.”
***
“Oh no no no you don’t,” Delicate Rose said bluntly, just as soon as Big Chief made his intentions known to her. “You are not marrying her.”
“Now Rosie . . .”
“I don’t care what you say. You’re not marrying her.”
His daughter now burst into tears as well. “How could you? Mother’s not even cold in the ground . . .”
“Don’t be so melodramatic, Rosie. Your mother’s been gone for over a year now.”
“And you can’t wait any longer, father? Why Metal Feather? There are many widows who would gladly have you. There’s Rainbow, for instance.”
Rainbow was Big Chief’s age and the only woman in the tribe with a completely metal head. The rest of her body was normal except for her hands, which were metal as well. Rainbow walked about naked most times. Her body was extremely toned and very statuesque.
Rainbow was a widow, and she had already made it unmistakably clear to Big Chief that she was available if he was.
“She likes you,” Delicate Rose insisted, suspecting that she was waging an unwinnable war.
“And I like her too – just not that way.”
Unable to contain her true concern any longer, Delicate Rose finally let it slip.
“Father, Feather looks too well to have been a captive.”
“That did occur to me, darling, and I asked her about it. She explained that once selected by the Texan spy-mistress, she was moved to other quarters, almost like house arrest, and looked after much better.”
The explanation sounded too smooth, too coincidental. Delicate Rose said so.
Big Chief agreed with her. “Yes,” he said. “Personally, I suspect it was your Uncle Caterpillar’s money that made the prison guards treat her better . . .”
***
Delicate Rose had failed to convince her father not to wed Metal Feather. The wedding date was set while she brooded in the background, angry at herself for not finding a good enough reason to call the nuptials off.
She couldn’t even start a quarrel with her prospective stepmother if she tried. Feather was polite to her, irritatingly so, endlessly saying how much she looked forward to becoming a part of the family and looking after both Big Chief and her.
Metal Feather openly admitted to having been besotted with Rose’s father from an early age. She’d apparently been in love with him since she was six years old.
Delicate Rose grudgingly gave them her blessing.
***
The wedding day came. The ceremony and celebrations went off as planned, and then the wedding night came. The new bride was seen off to her husband’s teepee, disrobed by her bridesmaids, and left to the embraces of her new husband.
***
It was halfway through their lovemaking when Big Chief sensed that something was wrong. Metal Feather’s vagina suddenly felt very tight, much tighter than it had when he’d (as he believed) first deflowered her.
His bride’s vagina continued to tighten around his penis, until it was no longer pleasurable to be inside her. Eventually it became quite painful. He could only stop himself from screaming by considering his pride as headman.
Metal Feather looked up at him with concern. “Why have you stopped moving, darling?” she gasped. “I was enjoying you so much.”
“I’m . . . fine . . .” he managed to say, although he was far from it. Stunned in disbelief, it was almost as if he could feel teeth inside her.
***
Metal Feather suffered from vagina dentata – i.e. she had teeth in her cunt.
She’d been born that way. She wasn’t kidnapped as the tribe believed, but had fled to avoid the embarrassment she’d have eventually been forced to face when it came time for her to marry.
Her drifting had delivered her into the hands of the Texan army. Once they’d discovered her oddity (it only took one rape), they packed her off to the Texan Spy Academy.
Metal Feather’s vaginal teeth didn’t ring the outer rim of the passage, like those in her mouth. They were arranged in rows extending from her vulva to her cervix. Being neither canines nor incisors, they weren’t nearly sharp enough to rend in one bite. They were more like molars, suited primarily for the chewing and grinding of food.
And chew and grind they did. Since vaginal food consisted mainly of penises, that’s what they chewed and ground up.
Metal Feather had great vaginal muscular control. She was perfectly capable of having normal sex, if she so chose.
Not in this case, however. Her majesty Mech-Anna, the Clockwork Goddess, had sent Metal Feather on this mission specifically to humiliate Big Chief Little John. The Texan queen typically used her for such punitive missions – occasions when she desired not to kill an offender, but to inflict pain and disfigurement instead.
***
“What . . . what are you doing to me?” Big Chief gasped in pain.
Metal Feather laughed. “I’m mincing you – that’s why the Clockwork Goddess calls me ‘Miss Mince Men’.”
Big Chief Little John was horrified; he’d heard legends of the spy who ate penises with her vagina.
H
e looked down at where their bodies were joined together at the groin. Flaps of penile skin had rolled back around the base of his member. What he could see of his penis was very bloody and raw.
He tried pulling out, but her teeth just clamped down even harder. He tried thinking about baseball, or anything unrelated to sex, hoping that maybe this would help him to break free. It didn’t.
Big Chief could’ve saved his penis by crying out in pain. The whole tribe would’ve rushed the tent in seconds, forcing her to let him go. But he would’ve lost face in the process, and not only before his own tribe – He’d have been the laughingstock of all Texas.
“Listen darling,” Metal Feather said. “The Goddess desires only one thing from you – that you beg me for mercy now. Then she will title you ‘He Who Weeps During Sex’.”
“Never!” Big Chief groaned. ‘He Who Weeps During Sex’ was not a title he desired for himself.
“Vagina is stronger than penis,” Metal Feather moaned. “ADMIT IT!!!”
“Yes, I admit that, but you are not stronger than me!”
“We shall see about that – He Who Weeps During Sex!”
“That, woman, is NOT my name!”
“The Goddess says it must be.”
“To Hell with your goddess, bitch wife . . .”
“But in her presence is Heaven, husband!”
“To Hell with you both, then!” He hissed this last through gritted teeth. So thoroughly had she chewed him, he was certain that she’d whittled him down to pinky finger thickness by now.
He understood that this was a battle of honor – the pride of the entire Mech-Sioux tribe was at stake. Would he, who’d run a gauntlet of knives and clubs to prove his worth as headman, scream out in pain from a woman’s loins? Never! He’d rather lose his penis altogether.
So Big Chief Little John fought to save his penis single-handedly.
He stood up off the bed, lifting Metal Feather along with him. She ignored this change in position. She simply wrapped her legs around him and clung tight to his back, grinding his manhood to mincemeat inside her.
“Oh, darling,” she mocked him. “You’re fantastic! Oh Oh OOOOoooooh!”
Carrying her across the room, Big Chief staggered over to where his tomahawk rested against the wall. He picked it up and, yanking her head back by the hair, smashed it hard into Metal Feather’s face.
Death before dishonor, bitch.
He was surprised when the blade turned with a clang. The tomahawk had split her cheek open from temple to jaw. The skull beneath was made of metal – plates of tempered steel held together by sunken rivets.
“You’re not Metal Feather,” he gasped.
“But I am, husband; did you really think it was only our tribe who’d discovered the secret of biomechanics?”
He now knew that he’d have been better off marrying Rainbow, as his daughter had suggested. Both women had metal heads, after all, but only one of them was attempting to chew off his penis at the moment.
Metal Feather’s vagina chomped down harder than ever before. “I am impervious to your attacks, husband, but you are vulnerable to mine . . .” she whispered in his ear, tonguing it as she finished him off.
Big Chief dropped his tomahawk, defeated in all but name. Still, he would not scream or beg for mercy. He realized that his penis was already destroyed by now. Blood was streaming down his legs as if the tribe had slaughtered a cow in Metal Feather’s vagina.
And for what? To protect the tribe’s integrity? Or his?
Metal Feather rocked her hips forward then, knocking Big Chief back onto the bed.
She orgasmed almost immediately, clenching him so tight that the teeth finally sheared through the thin shred of gristle remaining between him and his penis. By the time her spasms subsided, his dick had been completely separated from his body.
Big Chief Little John then felt a great sense of relief. All of the fight went straight out of him. He lay back on the bed in a horrified haze, thanking great Technikala that the pain had finally stopped.
***
Metal Feather stood over him now, chunks of minced penis slowly falling out of her snatch.
“You were quite a man, Big Chief, not to scream or beg for mercy,” she said. “However, you are now much less of a man than you were before.”
Upon hearing those awful words, the brave chief finally fainted. When he awoke, he found himself in the medical wigwam.
Delicate Rose sat beside him, holding his hand. The tribal elders were gathered about the bed as well.
“I warned you about her, father,” his daughter said, the anger threatening to incinerate her eyes. “But you just wouldn’t listen . . .”
“You were jealous – scared I’d abandon you if I found a new wife.”
“I was right, father, wasn’t I?”
He smiled. The elders smiled along with him.
“You have done a great thing, Big Chief,” one of the elders said. “No man or woman in all of Texas can call you ‘He Who Weeps During Sex’.”
“Yes,” he replied, laughing at the irony. “They will be calling me ‘He Who Cannot Have Sex’ instead.”
“Not so,” an engineer said.
Big Chief looked at him. “But my penis . . . ?”
“We fed it to the pigs.”
Big Chief winced. “So . . . ?”
“For quite some time now already, we’ve been working on a mechanical penis.”
The elders nodded. “We have seen it. It works. Soon you will be a man again, Big Chief.”
***
Alice was horrified by the headman’s story. “And Metal Feather?”
Big Chief shrugged. “She fled while I was unconscious. I was found by Delicate Rose, who naturally wants nothing more than to kill her stepmother now, to avenge her father’s penis.”
“And your new . . . you know . . . Does it actually work?”
Big Chief grinned broadly.
Chapter 6
Flesh and Metal
Big Chief Little John and Alice continued to drink into the night, moving closer and closer to each other until finally she was sitting in his lap.
Neither one of them was sure who seduced the other – they’d simply stared into each other’s eyes one time too many, eventually stumbling off to the headman’s teepee while peeling their clothes off.
Alice pulled the headman’s loincloth aside and gaped at what she found. Big Chief’s new penis was a segmented metal tube, bolted into his groin flesh just above his great, pendulous testicles. Rubber veins filled with hydraulic fluid ran along its impressive length.
Big Chief only laughed at her shock. “Thankfully, Sioux transplant technology is the best in America.” He flicked the metal member with his fingernail, making it go DING. “I assure you that it works.”
Alice continued to gape at Big Chief’s mechanical penis as it grew erect, twitching like a humongous metal rattlesnake. How in the name of Madame Lola did he expect her to fit that thing inside her?
“It’s adjustable,” he said. “Do you want it longer or shorter?”
“Shorter would be nice . . .” Alice replied in relief. “Extremely average would be extremely nice. Just not so small that I can’t feel it.”
“All you women say that,” Big Chief said with disappointment. “Makes me wonder why they made it so big in the first place . . .” He twisted a bolt set in its metal base, causing the appendage to retract several inches.
Big Chief watched Alice expectantly as his thick iron penis grew shorter and shorter, asking her with his eyes to tell him when to stop. Alice kept shaking her head until his penis was just five inches long – half its standard size.
Big Chief was very disappointed she’d not wanted it bigger.
“That’s perfect,” Alice said with a smile. “Too big hurts. Believe me, I should know! I think they only made it so big because, as large as you are – especially with your huge metal arm – you’d look rather comical with anything smaller.”
&n
bsp; Alice squatted astride Big Chief while they did it. The sex was fine, she discovered. The main difference, she realized, was that she had to move extra slow in order to avoid bruising herself on the extra hard appendage.
When she finally came, so did Big Chief, but only when she reached down to squeeze his massive testicles. He winced from the pain this caused him. His ejaculate was mixed with blood and machine oil.
“That must have hurt you,” Alice said.
“A little bit,” he admitted. It had hurt a lot, actually, but he would never admit pain to a paleface woman.
Alice snuggled down beside him. Enjoying the afterglow between his huge metal arm and his firm, muscular body, she felt completely cocooned from evil – protected from the horrible realities just beyond the tent flaps.
Depression over the likely failure of her mission threatened to smother Alice, but she pushed it aside, basking in this pleasant moment instead. It didn’t matter if she never made it to Dallas to kill Mech-Anna. It didn’t matter if she never got paid her million dollars, or if her mother died of tuberculosis. At this moment, it didn’t even matter if she died in Texas, never making it home again, or if Lord Busybody was killed in her absence, leaving her an old woman for the rest of her days.
In such a blessed moment, she could only hope to savor it.
Chapter 7
Bi-Psycho Night
Alice was the first to hear the scream. Waking in mid-snore, Big Chief Little John confirmed that it wasn’t her imagination.
“What was that?” she whispered in the darkness of the tent.
“Probably nothing . . .” he replied, rolling over on his side.
“So we were both woken up by ‘nothing’?” Alice hissed.
“Whatever it was, it came from over by Delicate Rose’s tent,” sighed Little John. “However, she’s safe as houses with your brother . . .”
There was another scream, much louder this time. It rang through the night like a lost coyote, screaming for its pack, before abruptly trailing off.
Alice shivered in horror.
