Family Tradition

ground with the other brother, the bigger one effectively blocking any chance of her escape, and if she did get past him, where could she go? She watched as the man that she’d shot screamed to the lake as though he expected the lake to answer him…

But then it did, answer him that is…

The waters slowly parted as something from the depths of the lake ponderously pushed its way to the surface. She couldn’t tell what it was at first, taking the translucence to be another manifestation of the LSD. Then she realized that the vast shimmering shape that blocked out the skyline was some sort of creature.

Mountainous and studded with all manner of partially digested foodstuffs including trout, a spotted owl, several crackjaw eel and the remnants of M. Gerald James and his assistant, the thing loomed over the screaming figure of Esau.

Sheree sensed that what she saw was hideously old, old and unclean with innumerable millennia of foulness. The monstrosity shifted and wavered as she watched a chimerical, constant metamorphosis; sometimes it seemed a writhing mass of polyps and tentacles, while at others it sprouted heads both human and animal and looked over the scene in front of it with a hundred pairs of diverse eyes. One tenticular appendage shot forth and encircled Esau, drawing him almost gently into its mass.

Sheree was aware that Enoch was watching her closely, escape no longer a remote possibility.

“Grandpa Ab’s taking Esau home. He’ll make me another brother soon, but he’s gotta have the right kind of female. Can’t be one that’ll die on us right away, like them others. C’mere, cutie. Let’s see what he thinks of you!' Enoch grabbed Sheree by the hair, dragging her to the lake’s edge. Somehow through her shock, Sheree noticed that Enoch had sprouted an extra set of limbs: his thick arms were now surmounted by a pair of clacking pincers set on the ends of whiplike tentacles. The transformed redneck roughly stripped her clothes off, the razorblade sharp pincers slicing away her top as though it were tissue-paper, allowing her breasts to bob free.

The foulness in the lake shifted again, a thousand multi-faceted inhuman eyes stared at her nakedness, unwinking, calculating, and assessing… An organ formed in the shifting flesh, an organ that despite its huge size and grotesque malformation was unmistakable. A huge throbbing penis.

“Hoo-wheee! Looks like Grandpa Ab finds you acceptable! He just needs to reach up in your snatch an’ fix hisself up an egg! He’ll have me a new little brother in no time! You outta be honored! Grandpa Ab ain’t seen fit to fuck a human woman in over five-hunnert years!”

Sheree was beyond screaming as the thing took her. Tendrils as strong as wire cable entwined around her ankles and wrists, lifting her spreadeagled into the night air. The monstrous organ thrust into her, probing deeply into her uterus. The thing inside her felt as though it was coring her like a piece of fruit. The pain and feeling of being violated on a much deeper level than mere physicality was overwhelming. Sheree had had more yards of cock in her than she could readily count, but nothing could have prepared her for this. The thing shimmered again, taking on the profile of a fierce-looking old man, the grotesque penis jutting from his forehead. Had the pain not been so intense, she would’ve laughed.

Looking over her shoulder, she could see Enoch gazing upward at the spectacle. “Don’t’choo worry, honeypie. Yer fat boyfriend here’ll be able ta cook fer Grandpa Ab even beter than Esau. And as fer you? I’ll’se take good care of ya while’s yer makin’ me a new brother!”

Sheree puked again, plumes of vomit ejecting into the lake, as she felt the slender tip of the tentacle shoved up her cunt narrowing, narrowing, until it was thin as thread.

The thread carefully manipulated its way up her cervical canal, through her left fallopian tube, and then blew its hot watery sperm into her ovary.

Remarkably, in spite of the horror of what was happening, Sheree came…

“And now fer this fat ’un here,” Enoch went on, looking down at the hog-tied Ashton. “With Esau gone, we’ll need ourselfs someone to continue cookin’ up them fine viddle fer Grandpa Ab.” Enoch guffawed into the night. “Don’t worry, fat boy. I ain’t gonna kill ya—'

Enoch’s cleaver flashed in moonlight, as its sharp edge was drawn quickly and expertly through the meat of Ashton’s calf muscles. To the bone.

Ashton bellowed, convulsing in the dirt.

“That’ll do ya, tubby,” Enoch informed. “You’ll never walk again, but you’ll still be able ta cook up a dandy meal!”

Sheree, still aloft over the lake, was no longer able to recognize what was happening down below. Her tongue hung out and her thighs clenched as the eons-old tentacle continued to draw in and out of her vaginal canal, bidding one orgasm after the next.

— | — | —

Epilogue

In spite of a number of potential complications, all was soon set back to rights at the obscure town of Hoth’s Landing, located at the even more obscure site of Harstene Island. The strange disappearances of the Morrone brothers were duly reported to the police, and so were the disappearances of Seattlites M. Gerald James, Rochelle Pillman, Carol Rood, and Sheree Hart.

None of them, in fact, would ever be seen or heard from again.

Eventually—and intra-police-departmental rivalries notwithstanding—a Lincoln Town Car registered to one M. Gerald James, and a Winnebago registered to one Robert Morrone, would be suspiciously discovered abandoned amid flanks of trees along the Route 101 corridor, near the town of Port Angeles. Traces of blood, in fact, would be found in the Winnebago, and traces of human urine in the Lincoln. And though police would conclude that the disapearances of the above could probably be attributed to “foul play,” they would always remember an auxiliary discovery in the Winnebago:

Several coolers full of dead Crackjaw eel.

««—»»

It was a Clallum County police officer who’d been driving his cruiser on routine traffic patrol past the sedate town of Dungeness who, in stark broad daylight, had spied the naked, emaciated girl wandering down the road. The officer’s name was Sergeant Michael Murtz, a twelve-year veteran with one valor medal, several commodations, and first on the list for deputy chief. He rolled down his window, pulled over onto the graveled shoulder, and stopped.

Holy Mmmmmoly!

Murtz had seen a lot of funky stuff in his career. But…this?

“Fox!” the skinny, naked girl seemed to shriek in glee. “Thank God, you’ve found me!“

Murtz just stared.

“There’s a fish in my pussy, Fox! Get it out!”

Murtz stared all the more.

She looked nearly breastless standing there. She smelled…bad.

“They put my friend Bess into a big drum and cooked her, Fox!” she squealed. “They stuffed vegetables in her stomach and made me eat fruit and throw up!”

Great, Mertz thought. A Crazy. And it was just his luck. He was off at four, and headed to his best friend’s bachelor party.

They were going to have strippers who did a bit more than strip.

Great, he thought again. I miss out on ALL the good stuff.

“Let me get you to a hospital, miss,” he said and grudgingly got out of the car and put the stinky naked girl in the back. He drove off back toward the county med center in Joyce.