Transcendental Obfuscation

Transcendental Obfuscation

Why we will never know why...

Author's note: A light look at some popularly accepted mythoi and what might be the "real" story behind all those unexplained disappearances... written with tongue firmly implanted in cheek. Intended to be read that way. Cheers...

*~*~*~*~*

"Under no circumstances are you to tell him."

"But he'll figure it out soon enough."

"I doubt it. Human males aren't all that smart."

"I don't know... This one might be. He's already been testing his restraints."

"That's just an innate nervous response. To being restrained."

"I don't know... That was a pretty crafty look there, while he was ogling you."

"He wasn't ogling me. He was staring stupidly. And besides, all human males ogle naked females."

"Not all of them. Remember that one subject, Bruce?"

"That one wasn't right in the head. And I'm not talking about his sexual preferences, either. There was something seriously wrong with that creature."

"I'm telling you, this one's going to figure it out. You might as well let him go now, and get it over with."

"No. We're not done getting his baseline. Though we probably should sedate him. A little Pulveris Vitae, perhaps?"

"Only if you want him to cum his brains out in his sleep."

"It is orgasm. Only if I want him to orgasm while unconscious. Fine. Somno Capturam, then. You know, your disrespect for our ways is what keeps you from getting promoted."

* * * * *

George woke with one hell of a hangover. And he couldn't remember why. Of course, remembering anything with that vision of loveliness standing next to the bed that he didn't remember being in, either, was going to be difficult.

So what do you remember? he chided himself.

Well certainly not that! Let's see...

He was walking down the street and someone called to him from an alley. Something about taking off his sandals, which was weird, because he was wearing penny-loafers. He couldn't see whoever it was very clearly, so he went over to get a better look.

That's when he saw the big mahunga ladder reaching up into the sky, with the fairies or whatever they were ascending and descending, and some dude with big wings and a righteous deep bass saying something about being with him...

Wait, no... that was the dream. The one after somebody anointed his head with a rock.

And then he woke up here. Strapped down. Naked. With a goddess hovering over him.

Okay, George, don't say anything, he'd thought. You'll just sound stupid. But man... there's got to be some way to get out of these restraints...

Then she was joined by another one.

Two! Two of them! Oh, my God! Those towel-heads were right! I wonder where the other seventy are? And how the hell do I get these straps off? They're like bloody Velcro!

Then the one came over and offered her tit. Well, hell! Tied up or not, he wasn't about to take a pass on that! She had luscious breasts and he...

...fell asleep fairly quickly.

* * * * *

"Which team needs more practice?"

"I don't know. They both do. The succubae are almost as good at draining libido as the malakhim are at restoring it."

"Well, I don't feel like getting written up again, so warm up the JV. We'll give him to the Suckers first. Then the JV can practice putting him back together. And find whoever recruited this one and point out that Jacob laid his head on a rock. He wasn't laid out by one."

"Fine. I'll go tell 'em. But I'm telling you... this one is going to surprise you. He almost had one of his hands free."

"Put him in the Garden of Ormon and remove his restraints. I'm sure they'll find him."

"Ormon?"

"Yes, Eden is down for maintenance."

"Again?"

"Yes, again. Now just do it."

"Hey! That would make a snappy slogan!"

"Would you just..."

"Going."

* * * * *

George thought it was strange when he woke up strapped to the table. Now he was really confused.

He was lying on his back in the middle of a bunch of lush, soft grass with an outrageous erection. And he didn't remember why. Again.

This time, though, there wasn't a goddess standing over him. Or Vestal Virgin. Or whatever. A chick more beautiful than any porn star he'd beaten off to. So he started looking around.

A grassy meadow, woods all around. A sky bluer than any he ever remembered. The muted call of birds and the low buzz of insects. And something watching him from the trees. Something with red eyes. Something he suddenly felt very uneasy about.

Of course, all that went the way of his gonads when she stepped out from the tree line. And it was definitely a She. Even at a hundred yards, he knew a She when he saw one. Like a Bruce Colero painting. The curves. The boobs. The long blonde hair. The barbed whip-like tail...

The tail? Um...

George went back to being uneasy as he watched the woman... creature?... whatever, slither its way through the tall grass in his direction.

What the fuck >fill-in-the-blank< kept going through George's head. Like, what the fuck is happening? What the fuck am I doing here? What the fuck is this place? And what the fuck IS SHE???

She had paused about twenty feet from him, stood up and started undulating her way towards him. She had the most incredible smile on her face with just the points of her canines showing while her brilliant red eyes bore into him. Almost enough to distract him from her curvy hips, bare pussy and huge tits.

"Oh, you will be deliciousss..." she murmured in a voice that was pure honey as she approached. "I can tasssste you from here." She paused as she eyed his naked body and his involuntary erection. "You will want sssex, won't you?"

"I will want s-s-sex?" stumbled out of George's mouth. "Is the bear Catholic? Fuck yes, I will want sex!"

"Um... I do survive it, right?" he asked as an afterthought.

"Yesss..." she breathed as she closed the gap. "Probably..."

George struggled to his feet before she got to him, then decided that he might as well have not bothered... unless the sacrificial lamb was supposed to be standing. He held as still as he could while she drank in his scent, running her long fingers with the even longer nails over his skin while she sniffed his neck and armpits... and groin.

"You are new to the practice squad, yesss?" Her voice made his heart ache. And his groin, for that matter.

"P-p-practice squad?" George knew he was missing some critical piece of information.

"Yesss..." the creature smiled. "I am to practice giving you sssexual pleasure. I will be graded on my performancesss..., my technique, my effectivenessss... and ssso forthhhh..."

George came to the unsettling realization that her tongue wasn't normal... It was long. Very long. And forked.

"Uh... who are you?"

George probably meant to ask What are you? but Who is what came out.

"I am Qarinah, of the housssehold Ardat Lili," she answered, licking her nipples. "Who are you?"

"I'm um, George," he answered, staring. "George Peters."

"Well, Um George George Petersss," she smiled, and now her fangs were really showing, "are you ready to play?" She looked pointedly at his painfully swollen member. So did George.

"Um... I guess so..." Can you die from having your cock explode? he thought as she reached out to touch him.

"OH MY GOD!!"

George came. Zero to splooge in nothing flat. He shot rope after rope of his cum all over this gorgeous woman's massive tits. And he kept on cumming. Like a dog. Another jet every few seconds. It felt like hours, but was probably minutes. By the time he got done squirting and his cock started to wither, his legs were giving out and he collapsed to the ground while the creature used her incredibly long tongue to clean his jizz off her chest.

"He isss not here," Qarinah told the supine George.

"Who?" George asked as he tried to get his eyes to focus.

"Your God," she explained. "He ssseldom visits the practice fieldsss."

"TOO FAST," a voice rumbled out of the sky, making the trees shake and the earth tremble.

"Coach Sssamael, on the other hand..." Qarinah muttered.

"TRY AGAIN. SLOWER THIS TIME."

Qarinah sighed, stretched, and sat next to George, who understandably got a huge knot in his guts.

"What are you going to do?" he asked nervously.

"Pleasssure you," she answered simply. "I mussst learn to judge your sssensssitivity better... you have a marvelousssly high libido, on a hair trigger. I mussst learn to ssstimulate you ssslowly..."

As she told him this, she ran her nails over his scrotum. George was hard instantly.

"Hmmm..." Qarinah muttered. "Ssso very sssensitive... let'sss try sssomething different..."

She swung her huge tits into George's face, then eased them down to his chest as she lowered her face to his. George's eyes were wide and his heart was racing as he watched those fangs descend on him. Maybe being an outrageously horny chauvinist pig wasn't such a good idea right about then.

The tip of her snake tongue flicked out and ran around the edges of his lips. George was immobilized by indecision. On the one hand, he was terrified of her. On the other, he wanted her so badly it was painful. When she gently pressed her lips to his and tried to slip in her tongue, though, he caved. His gonads won.

The strangest thrill he had ever known coursed through him. The weird feeling of her slithery tongue was overpowered by the feel of her breasts pushing into him and her incredibly strong sex scent. Although he had just cum moments before, he felt his impending release swelling up again, an irresistible force driving him onwards and upwards.

Suddenly, the fear was gone. His entire being had one desire... to stick his aching cock deep into this goddess or demon or whatever the fuck she was and blow his load so deep in her, it came out her nose. And he didn't even care that it wasn't physically how it worked.

Somewhere, he got the testicular fortitude to push back against her, bearing her to the ground, forcing her legs apart as he strove to impale her.

"Ohhh... good boy!" she crooned as she wrapped her long, lithe legs up over his back, welcoming him in. Her pussy felt like a blast furnace as he buried himself to the hilt. The pulsing milking her cunt muscles began giving him made sure he was going directly to Orgasm, do not pass Go!, do not collect anything, his wits included.

"Oh Fuck!! AGAIN!!"

Everything ached as his balls pulled up into his throat and he exploded deep inside her. Or at least that's what it felt like. Absolute, pure ecstasy. So much pleasure, it was painful. Like how ice can feel like it's burning.

She drained him. Period. He was passing out and his skin was getting taut when the earth shook and the skies rumbled again.

"TOO MUCH, TOO FAST! STOP, BEFORE THE MALAKHIM HAVE NOTHING TO WORK WITH!"

"Yes, Bossss..." Qarinah answered as she lifted George off of her and set him on his side in the grass. "Sssorry..."

"But why is he ssso fragile?" she added, perplexed. "He has massssive amounts of untapped libido... why does he respond ssso strongly to me with ssso little ssstimulation?"

"Perhaps because you are in your natural form," the disembodied voice, now very toned down, suggested. "Perhaps you should try the form of someone he identifies as a friend. It will be good practice for your doppelganger abilities."

Qarinah smiled her vampiric smile and reached into George's mind as he lay there, somewhat catatonic. And found what she wanted.

* * * * *

What the fuck hit me? George thought as he slowly regained consciousness. Then he remembered Qarinah and threw himself into a tight little fetal position, like a human rugby ball. Although rugby balls don't generally shake and quiver on their own.

"I am sorry, Um George George Peters," he heard a voice he couldn't believe saying. "Are you alright?" He couldn't believe it because it was the voice of Betty Lou Simpson, his high school sweetheart. They had lost their virginities together and had ceased being sweethearts shortly thereafter. Well, not exactly shortly.

It turned out Betty Lou liked to fuck, and she was after George every opportunity she could get. Some rather risky opportunities, too. She had him up to five or six times a day, every day, the entire summer after they graduated. He lost forty-five pounds and started getting nightmares about being fucked to death. Which was a little odd, considering the horndog he was.

George knew he wasn't in Kansas anymore, so he couldn't take anything for granted. So he opened one eye and peeked out, to see who was talking to him.

My God, it's her! ripped through his brain as he saw her virginal visage in the ruffled white dress and curly blonde hair, standing there, looking down at him with her soft smile and look of wanton depravity.

He ran.

He leapt to his feet and took off. He had no idea where, but as long as it was away from her, it was good. He actually made it to the tree-line before disaster struck.

He was so intent on looking back over his shoulder at his nemesis, that he didn't notice the low-hanging bough in front of him. For the second time in recent memory, he got anointed by something other than oil. He got laid out flat. There wasn't even time for the swirling stars or chirping birdies... he was just plain out.

* * * * *

"Oh, bloody hell!"

"Watch it!"

"Sorry... too much Harry Potter..."

"Get over there and see if he's salvageable."

"Why me? Qarinah's the one that..."

"Just do it!"

"You know, I really like that slog..."

"GO!"

"Going..."

* * * * *

George came back to consciousness next to a small fire with a kettle on it and an old hag in a hooded cloak, sitting on a log. George had learned not to take anything at face value, wherever the hell he was.

"Um... hello..." he tried. His head felt like a bell with the clapper still clanging around.

"Hello, George," the crone replied in a cracked, dry voice.

"Uh... who are you?" It seemed like a reasonable question.

"I am Sera," the crone replied.

"Have you got a last name?"

"Phim," she told him. "I am here to see if you are alright."

"Other than two major concussions and almost dying by sex, I guess I'm okay," he told her.

"Then do you feel you can get back in the game?" the old lady asked.

"Game?" George was now seriously confused.

"Yes, game. Where you get to experience intense pleasure iteratively while others learn to give it. There are two teams, each trying to do a better job of pleasuring you than the other. So, do you feel ready to play?"

"Is Betty Lou on one of the teams?" he asked nervously.

"No, that was Qarinah. She thought you would be more comfortable playing if she took the shape of someone of whom you had strong memories."

"God, did she ever," George muttered, mostly to himself. "Scared me half to death. I'd rather deal with a succubus than Betty Lou again..."

"Well..." Sera started, then decided it would be wiser not to point out the obvious. "If you are ready to reenter the playing field, I would suggest you have a cup of tea first."

"Tea? What kind of tea?" George wanted to know. He wasn't about to anything for granted. "I don't like that herbal shit... all those raspberry, cinnamon, peppermint, elderberry concoctions... they taste like crap."

"This tea flavor is called ambrosia," Sera explained as she poured him a cup from the kettle. "Think of it as good old cut black tea, laced with amphetamines and tadalifil, and sweetened with honey." George stared at her as she handed him the cup.

"So what is this," he asked as he hesitated. "The evil queen from Snow White, in disguise, handing me the apple?"

"Drink," she suggested and George felt compelled to drink. And to hand the empty cup back to her. He felt a very strange warmth spreading through his body.

"It is true I am in disguise, George," Sera told him. "Otherwise, you would not be able to stand the sight of me."

"That ugly, huh?" His crude horndog was already returning.

"No, George," she told him softly as she stood and transformed. He damn near came on the spot. It was one of those goddesses from the bed where he'd been strapped down.

"The playing field is that way," she told him, pointing back at the meadow. Then she up and disappeared, right in front of him, leaving him standing there with an outrageous erection and a strong desire to stick it in something.

Somewhere out there is a critter that needs to get skewered, he thought as he moved towards the meadow. Apparently, the ambrosia was fairly powerful. He didn't feel nearly as afraid as he should have.

* * * * *

"Well, he's back in play."

"With a dose of ambrosia in him."

"You say it like it's a bad thing..."

"He will exceed all of his previous limits. I'm not sure that is such a good idea."

"Well, Qarinah hasn't been truly tested in a long time. I think George can do it."

"Put the malakhim on standby. We're probably going to need them on rather short notice."

"I think you're underestimating this human..."

"Just do it!"

"That really would make a nifty slog..."

"GO!"

"Going..."

* * * * *

She was lurking around the edges of the woods - one of her favorite haunts. Between games, she could prey on the satyrs and centaurs, always ready for a good fucking. But she had to admit, humans were the most delicious and she looked forward to the times one of them was sent to be the Manubiae... the spoils of the game. She didn't have to drain the human completely. Just enough that it took those annoying malakhim longer to put him back together than she'd taken to reduce him to quivering protoplasm.

This Um George George Peters was a bit of a conundrum, though. She couldn't remember ever meeting one quite like him. An exorbitant amount of libido, truly sweet to the taste, and yet traumatized somehow into trying to hide it. From her, at least. One would think that the offer of sublime pleasure would have any human male falling into her arms.

Coach Samael did have a point. Maybe her natural charms were too much for him to bear. But he seemed to get worse when she morphed into that girlfriend so prominent in his mind. A true puzzlement...

Then, surprisingly, she saw him walking out of the woods on the far side of the meadow, back out onto the playing field. Perhaps he had simply needed a moment to steady his nerves. Or maybe that wallop with the tree scrambled his brains. In any case, the biggest piece of Death By Chocolate she had seen in ages just re-entered her domain. And he seemed to be looking for her...

* * * * *

She has got to be around here somewhere, George was thinking as he walked across the meadow. Probably back in the trees, where she came from the last time. Well, wherever the fuck she is, I'm going to find her and fuck her so hard her tail will fall off...

It wasn't at all clear that George was being rational. One couldn't literally fuck the tail off a succubus. It was equally unclear whether he actually knew that. What he did know was, his cock was about twice normal size, hard as rock and bouncing around as he walked, fanning a fervent desire to empty his also very swollen balls into that bitch that pretended to be Betty Lou. Actually, any bitch would do, but that one in particular.