Big Trouble In Little Ass: A Novella

by Wol-vriey

Edison shrugged off the cowardly thought. Never would he hide behind his wife’s skirts. He’d protect his property. Hell would be welcoming anyone who tried taking this ranch away from him.

  Controlling his fear of the appalling death that had befallen his ranch hands, Edison resumed his search.

  ***

  Edison Bennett was a vet by profession. It was because Valhalla Swede Jones had gotten mange on her doggy buttocks that they’d met.

  Valhalla had been so embarrassed during that first visit, it had taken her an hour to explain what the problem was. Then it took another half-hour for her to show Little Ass’s skeptical new veterinary surgeon that no, she wasn’t a nut job, and yes, she actually was half animal from the waist down.

  For Edison, it had been love at first sight — of Valhalla’s wolf-lower-body.

  His love of dogs was what had prompted him to study veterinary medicine in the first place. He had however never dreamed of taking his love of canines as far as a liaison with Valhalla would permit. Edison thought bestiality sickening. But when the dog’s best parts were attached to a breathtaking woman, what could he do?

  Edison was unmarried at the time. He’d turned the charm on and seduced Mrs. Jones. Valhalla Swede Jones, realizing the benefits of having her own personal vet, soon left her husband’s side for her lover’s.

  Edison Bennett had always wanted to own a ranch — acres of land with horses and cows and cowboys and the intoxicating smell of hay. When Zizi’s holding caught his eye, his new bride provided him with an astonishing, if abominable, means of driving the French-Canadian heiress off her inheritance and into a life of prostitution.

  ***

  Edison heard someone coming. He ducked out of sight behind the outside stairway leading to the roof.

  Jude walked into view, and then walked past Edison.

  Edison disliked Jude on sight. The man looked to him like a serial rapist. Worse still, he obviously lacked class and social graces. Valhalla would be incensed if he ever made friends with such an uncouth person.

  Immediately Jude passed him, and Edison stepped out of concealment. He padded quickly after him, placed his Peace Maker against the back of Jude’s head, and fired. The bullet blew a chunk of Jude’s brain out through his left eye.

  Jude knelt forward, and then collapsed to the ground.

  Edison hadn’t witnessed Jude’s gunfire exchange with the cowboys and so believed him finished. He didn’t bother turning Jude over to examine him, or shooting him again to make certain. No one survived a head wound like this — not from a Colt .45. He put Jude’s twitching down to his brain’s futile attempts to keep him alive.

  And why the hell was he bleeding water?

  Edison picked up Jude’s rifle and examined it. He also found the bag of teeth ammo.

  Musing on the weapon’s oddness, he walked around the house to tell the cowboys that the fight was over.

  ***

  Once Edison was gone, Jude sat up again.

  He took a DEEP draught from his water bottle. A yellow pee-eye immediately replaced his destroyed orb. Urine-meat repaired his damaged brain. His confused thought processes re-equalized.

  Jude got to his feet. Now this is REALLY personal, he thought angrily. Edison Bennett, I’m REALLY going to kill you.

  It was after thinking this that Jude discovered his wooden rifle was missing.

  He spat. Sheeeiiiiit!

  CHAPTER 14

  Running down the stairs, dripping knife in hand, Nell wasn’t bothered about her mother dying. In her experience, Valhalla appeared to have a cat’s number of lives.

  Mother deserved to be stabbed, she felt. Nell was only surprised she’d waited this long to do it.

  How dare the daughter-abandoning old witch insult daddy like that?

  Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Nell heard voices coming toward her from the rear of the house. She darted across the parlor, running toward the kitchen.

  “¡Hola!, Señorita Nellie.” Nell froze in the kitchen doorway.

  She relaxed on seeing it was the cook, Consuela Gomes, who’d hailed her.

  Consuela was a jolly, middle-aged woman. Nell liked her. Keeping the bloody knife out of sight behind the doorjamb, she leaned into the kitchen. “Hi, Connie.”

  Consuela beamed back. The smell of baking bread accompanied her sunshine smile out of the kitchen. “You ees here to see your mama, Nellie? She ees upstairs in ze bedroom. She ees just sending down to me to make her some lunch.”

  “I’ve just seen her, Connie.” She faked confusion. “Connie, I’m scared. Why all the shooting and shouting?”

  Consuela shrugged disinterestedly. “Ah, don’t be scared, Señorita. You know how it ees with ze cowboys. Zey ees always getting ze drunk, then zey ess acting ze crazy — ellos actúan loco. I ees see Mr. Bennett going outside just now. Hopefully he ees making zem shut up.”

  Her expression became serious. “Ah, ees good you ees come, Señorita. Your ma, she ess looking underneath ze weather. She ees not eating like ees good for her. Ees like — ”

  Nell remembered Consuela liked to talk. She could keep her here for an hour. A suitable escape lie came readily to mind.

  “I’ve gotta run, Connie. Ma sent me to find Ike Dallas.”

  Consuela snorted. “Señor Ike, he ees now tiring of Italiano prostitutas and ees chasing Mexicanos. Ten minutes ago, I ees spying him eating Rosa’s chocha in ze wine store like she’s buttocks ees a tortilla.” She spat. “Ees too much ze gringo ees abusing ze proud Mexican pepita like zis — Ees eating la chocha very sloppily! Zis time I ees tell your mama, Señorita. Zis Señor Ike, he ees a bad gringo —”

  “Bye, Connie,” Nell said and fled down the corridor.

  Running, Nell felt a return of the anger that had prompted her to stab her mother.

  She was mad at Rosa. At the moment she wished she could see her and kill her betraying ass. She’d not forgotten how Ike Dallas had humiliated her yesterday, either.

  She intended getting even with both of them.

  ***

  Nell reached the rear of the house. All that remained now was for her to exit. She could see the daylight outside. Then she saw Edison step up onto the rear porch.

  Damn, she thought. Once he discovers I’ve stabbed mother, I’m deader than Zizi.

  It didn’t occur to her to simply abandon her bloody knife and try to bluff her way past Edison.

  Edison however, hadn’t seen her. He was still looking outside, addressing a hand. Nell turned around and rushed back through the house again, finally hiding in a bedroom.

  Hell, she thought, pulling Jude’s white pistol out of her cleavage and staring at it, I need to get out of here.

  CHAPTER 15

  With both his guns taken from him, Jude was forced to hide.

  The water bottle was now empty. He’d used the last of Nell’s urine to repair the head wound Edison had given him. He hooked the container in his belt and forgot about it.

  He swore in frustration. Unless Nell got his Comanche guns back for him, this attack was done. He couldn’t storm the ranch house with normal weapons. There were simply too many cowboys.

  Then he remembered his horse and ran to where the wagon was parked. Along the way, he salvaged a Colt and a belt of shells from one of the dead cowboys. From another corpse, he took a rifle and more ammo.

  He unharnessed his horse and swung up into its saddle. The white stallion reared high, pleased to be freed from its restraints.

  Jude smiled grimly and trotted slowly around the house.

  He’d decided to kill the time waiting for Nell by killing Edison’s cowboys.

  The cowboys soon spotted him, and the gun fighting resumed.

  Jude was careful this time, however, both for his horse’s safety and his own.

  CHAPTER 16

  Edison gave up on defending his property and honor. With this particular assassin, it seemed a bridge too far.

  He didn’t understand how one man could be so hard to kill. He’d b
een congratulating himself on his resourcefulness, and berating his cowboys on their ineffectiveness, when Jude had ridden up behind them and begun shooting.

  Edison had gotten a good look at Jude’s new left eye — transparent as a marble, cold as a snowball. That oddity, combined with the hellspawn smirk on Jude’s face, had put the fear of death into him.

  Valhalla was right — in this case discretion was the better part of valor. At least until he thought up a counterattack strategy that would work.

  He fled back into the house.

  He’d not seen Ike Dallas, nor had any of the other hands. One of the cowboys claimed his ranch manager was dead, killed by this demonic Jude invader.

  ***

  Rushing into his bedroom, Edison collided in the doorway with a maid departing with a lunch tray. Woman and tray both upended and ended up on the floor. The remnants of Valhalla’s lunch spilled everywhere.

  Valhalla stared in disgust at the mess the maid had made.

  Edison winced at the mess. Then, with Jude’s wooden rifle, he shot the maid once in each breast.

  “It works,” he told Valhalla. “Simple as eating pie to use.”

  He tipped the hapless maid — now screaming horribly from the agony ripping her porcupined mammary glands — out of the bedroom window.

  She stopped screaming when her neck shattered on the courtyard flagstones.

  Fanning herself, Valhalla walked to the window and peered down. She nodded with satisfaction at the dead woman. “I hate it when people make a mess of my house,” she said.

  ***

  “Where’s the white pistol?” Edison asked suddenly. “I don’t see it anywhere.”

  Valhalla’s face distorted with rage. “My stupid daughter stole it. She’s in league with the assassin.”

  Edison said nothing. He was taken aback by Valhalla’s outraged glare. He’d never seen her so angry. She looked mad enough to murder Nell.

  “I have his rifle,” he said. “It fires teeth.” He held it out for her inspection. “What I don’t understand is why this Jude won’t die. I’ve killed him, Ike’s killed him... Which reminds me, we can’t find Ike.”

  Valhalla wasn’t listening. Her facial expression suddenly transformed from rage to a stolid purposeful gaze. Her turbulent emotions became similarly calm. Her thoughts settled to stream-surface placidity. So her daughter had sided with the enemy? She would show the little hussy who was boss — who was mother, and who daughter.

  She turned to Edison.

  “Take your clothes off. I want to perform a summoning.”

  She got out the wooden disc with the runes from the wardrobe and spread it out on the floor. Then she removed her skirt.

  (She kept her bodice on so he couldn’t see her breasts. She had work to do, not answer questions.)

  Seeing her naked doggy buttocks, Edison got an instant erection.

  But still... he thought.

  “I don’t think this is the time for that,” he said.

  “I do,” Valhalla retorted with ominous finality. “Hurry up and get undressed. Come and give me your semen quickly. I want to summon Rattackus.”

  A thrill of horror went through Edison at her mention of Rattackus. Rattackus wasn’t one of Valhalla’s mumbo jumbo imaginations. Valhalla’s summoning of the abominable mutant creature allowed him to drive Zizi off her ranch in the first place.

  Edison remembered Rattackus squeezing its pale, slimy way from the surface opening of a Mount Ass mineshaft. It had looked disgusting, like the world’s biggest maggot.

  But was it necessary in this case? Surely this was overkill? Even if Jude was proving abominably hard to dispatch to the afterlife.

  “Edison, what are you waiting for? Come here and fuck me right now!” She sounded to Edison like Miss Montgomery, his dreaded teacher from elementary school.

  “Coming dear,” he replied, rushing to stab his erection deep into the waiting viciously-violet velvety wolf vagina.

  ***

  Once Edison had spurted into her and withdrawn his member, Valhalla squatted over the summoning board again. The semen plopped into the seer-space excavation like living rain.

  She concentrated and muttered incantations. Guttural words which filled Edison with fear.

  “Rattackus naemnoyus, Rattackus shymys, Rattackus pyus pyaen yaeyks... Rattackus…”

  The red hexagon framing Edison’s cum turned black as night.

  CHAPTER 17

  Nell’s next abortive attempt to flee the ranch house wound her up in the wine cellar. More oncoming voices meant she needed to hide quickly again.

  She shut the door before realizing she wasn’t alone.

  On seeing who was in the room with her, Nell quickly pushed Jude’s white pistol deep into her bodice — well out of sight.

  “Oooh, Señor Ike, you ees so very good in ze fucking. I ees enjoy zis pussy-fuck, ees like ze sugar, not like in ze ass, oooo —”

  The stone walls amplified the noise of the door clicking shut, reverberating it like a gunshot in the crowded space.

  Rosa and Nell stared at each other.

  Ike Dallas lay on a row of wine casks. Rosa squatted on him like she was shitting in his groin.

  Ike was drunk, his eyes red with wine. He waved at Nell. “Hi, freak.”

  Rosa wasn’t drunk. Her face distorted with rage.

  “You ees spying on us? How dare you ees come in here!”

  “Rosa, this is my mother’s house. I can go wherever the hell I like in it.”

  “Talk to me with respect!” Rosa growled. “I ees Madam Rosa now. You ees now working for me.” She resumed gliding up and down Ike’s erection. “If you not show ze proper respect, I ees whipping you till ze bones ees showing on your backside.”

  “Work for you? I don’t work for you!” The coin dropped. “You’re in charge of the brothel now?”

  (Both women were prostitutes. Neither saw anything odd in carrying out a conversation whilst having sex. For them, such was as normal as day following night.)

  “Ah, Señor Ike, ze cock is so good, so hard…” The lust cleared from her eyes. “Yes, I ees ze new Madam. Zizi ees die of ze beeg fish.” Rosa managed to preen herself while fucking. Her gaze hardened. “From now on, gringo puta, you will call me ze Madam Rosa.”

  Nell smirked. “Not in a million years will that happen. If Zizi is dead, that brothel’s as much mine now as if it’s my inheritance. You? Wait till I speak to mother about this! She’ll —” Nell shut up. She’d remembered she’d left ‘mother’ possibly dying in a pool of blood.

  “What?” Rosa mocked. “You ees not ask mama to sack me anymore? Wassa matter, puta? Oh, I ees knowing: you ees just remembering zat mama ees hating you. Ees zat it?”

  Nell utterly hated Rosa then. The woman’s last statement had sliced her too close to the bone. It took all her willpower to refrain from dashing across to bury her knife in her heaving bosom. But…

  “Listen you —” she stopped. Rosa wasn’t paying attention to her.

  Ike, who’d been listening to the angry exchange with boozy amusement, reached his point of no return.

  “Shit,” he groaned, grabbing Rosa’s hips and spurting into her sex.

  Rosa ground dutifully on him till he’d finished. Then she got off him and glared at him with reproach.

  “Ah, Señor Ike, you ees not wait for Rosa before you ees coming.” She pointed. “And now ze cock, it ees soft.”

  “Sorry darling. You were so busy talking; I thought you weren’t interested in making it.”

  Rosa wheeled angrily on Nell. “Zees ees all your fault!”

  “In what fucking way?” Nell’s mind was only half on the couple. She needed to get Jude’s gun to him. He could come kill Ike Dallas himself. She had no desire to do so anymore. The revelation that her mother had put Rosa rather than herself in charge of the brothel had emotionally flattened her.

  Rosa, however, was far from done with Nell. “Ees your fault because you ees interrupt your Madam’s org
asm. Now it ees your responsibility to make me come.”

  Nell decided it was time she left. “Oh no, I ain’t eating your pussy, Rosa. Use your hand. A big girl like you should know masturbation doesn’t make you go blind, or give you hairy palms.”

  “Slut! Dirty puta!”

  “Stop pointing fingers, Rosa,” Nell said wearily, “We’re both dirty putas.” She opened the door and peered out into the corridor. The corridor was clear.

  Rosa was incensed. She pulled Ike’s revolver from its holster, cocked it, and then rushed after Nell.

  Nell was about to step outside when she felt herself violently yanked back by her hair. She fell on her buttocks onto the floor. Her head slammed against a beer cask, stunning her.

  Rosa slammed the cellar door shut. The gunshot sound woke up Ike, who’d drifted into post-coital slumber.

  “What are you doing, Rosa?”

  “I ees teach zis piece of shit to be respecting her Madam.”

  “Give me back my gun. Her mother says not to harm her.”

  Rosa spat. “She ees tell you zat, not me. I ees shoot zis gringa and say I ees not know her mother ees loving her a tiny bit.”

  Rosa waved the gun at Nell. Nell was still groggy from hitting her head on the beer keg. She held her knife in front of her to keep her adversary away. Rosa kicked her wrist. The knife flew out of Nell’s hand and clattered down by the door.

  Rosa dragged Nell across the floor by her hair, over to Ike Dallas.

  Ike was sitting up. Rosa pushed him back down. “Not yet, Señor. I ees still having my interrupted orgasm. Debo tener mi orgasmo!”

  Ike shook his head. “I can’t make it again right now, Rosa.”

  “Don’t worry — she ees help you.” Rosa pushed Nell’s head between Ike’s legs. “All right, prostituta; begin sucking ze gringo cock immediately!”

  Nell shook her head. Not from modesty — she was after all a prostitute and penises were her business — but from confusion.