Fossil Lake: An Anthology of the Aberrant (12 page)

“All right, babe, if you’re sure?”

Lana turned to Marcella, smile bright and shining, and snapped  a picture before she could argue. “Oh, I’m quite sure. Grab your stuff and let’s get moving.”

*     *     *

He watched, waiting patiently. He hadn’t meant to get caught at the water this morning, but what was done was done. Now he had plans; once the bitchdykes were gone, he was going to mess with their stuff. Maybe leave them a little message.

The bull-dyke and the crybaby were out of sight when he finally edged his way out of the brush and into their campsite. He kicked the wood around, just for starters, then pulled five of the ten boards for the ladder off the tree, and threw them in the remains of the fire. That took a bit of time; he wasn’t as in shape as he’d thought. It was worth it though, they wouldn’t be able to get to their food.

He began mumbling out loud, giggles interspersing with the inane babble. Finally, pictures of Lana’s body in his mind, he pulled his pants and shorts down, masturbating violently until he spunked all over their little bed.

A man is what they need, someone to teach them better. I’m gonna fuck that little crybaby until she bleeds.

Ten minutes later, he ejaculated again, crying this time, thinking of the mother that had abandoned him so long ago.

*     *     *

They stopped on the side of the trail for a late lunch, cheese and crackers complemented with cold water from a spring. It smelled a little, like minerals and salt, but it tasted wonderful. Lana wanted to go on hiking, even though she had her shots in. Marcella wanted to go back, so they wouldn’t be caught in the woods in the dark.

“Even with the path, we could get lost out here,” she said. “We didn’t bring flashlights. And if there are bears out here, I don’t even have the pepper spray. It’s back at the site.”

Lana raised an eyebrow. “Really? You?”

Marcella flushed. “Yeah. I was distracted by your ass.” That caught Lana off guard, she saw. So, smiling wickedly, she went on. “Babe, I want to get you back to the tent so I can slide your clothes off, run my hands over your body, and …”

“And …?”

“We’ll have to go back to see what comes next.” She set off at a sprint, leaving Lana behind, laughing and calling foul.

Marcella only made it a couple hundred yards before slowing down to catch her breath. She stopped at the next picnic area to wait for Lana, and finally saw the top of her head crest the little hill.

“Took you long enough!”

“I wasn’t running. And I was taking pictures as I went along.” She sat next to Marcella on the picnic table.

They sat in silence for a bit, listening to the birds and insects do their bird and insect business. Soon, Lana was nuzzling Marcella’s neck, and she turned to slide her hand into Lana’s shirt. After some more easy flirting, Marcella slid down, kneeling between Lana’s legs on the bench, easing her onto her back across the table. She pushed Lana’s shirt over her belly to expose her breasts, trailing kisses across the smooth skin. Circling her tongue around an already-distended nipple, she moved her hand to rub between her lover’s legs.

Lana’s hips rose, as did her moans. Shifting her focus, Marcella tugged at the yoga pants, drawing them down over her hips and thighs. As she wasn’t wearing underwear, Marce got right to business.

Neither of them paid attention to the noises coming from the shrubs behind the water pump, but when stones and chunks of bark and sticks began hitting them, they jumped. Lana yanked her pants up while Marce pulled the shirt down, and they ducked for cover.

“God sees you, you bitches!
Cuntlickingmotherfuckingdykes
, you’ll be sorry!” More stones pelted down on them, one hitting Marcella close to the eye. “You’ll burn, bitch, you’ll burn! He’ll start with your snatch, fire you up good and proper!”

Marcella leaped up on the picnic table, yelling violently. She caught a glimpse of Lana’s creeper running away as fast as his stumble-bum legs could carry him. “That’s right, you little coward, you fucking worm, you better run!”

“Marce, let’s just get back to the site, okay? I don’t feel safe now.”

“Okay, babe. And when we get there, I’m calling the ranger.”

*     *     *

The ranger couldn’t come out to investigate until morning. Since it was already getting dark, they reluctantly made the decision to stay one more night.

Marcella built a fire while Lana went into the tent to change. At her sharp squeal, Marce pulled the flap back so hard the corner tore. “What is it? What happened?”

Lana held a hand over her mouth, gagging. Marcella noticed the smell then, and saw what Lana was pointing at.

Cum.
All over their sleeping bags, spread around like some twisted fuck had rolled in it.
And the smell!
It smelled of more than just cum, it smelled
bad
. Like apricots that had been left to rot in milk.

Her own gorge rose as she pulled the ruined sleeping bags out of the tent. “We’ve still got the blankets, right?” She hoped so; she didn’t fancy a trip back to the car – in the dark and with that creepoid who knew where – especially if it meant leaving Lana alone.

“I’ve got one in my pack, and there are two in the tent. I don’t think there’s any of that crap on them.” Lana held them up so Marcella could inspect them.

“Nope, they’re clean. Okay, we’ll use these tonight, and tomorrow morning - no matter what - after the ranger gets here, we’re heading out.”

“I just want to go home, Marce. This wasn’t how our week was supposed to go.”

“I know, babe. I know.” Marcella gathered Lana into her arms again, squeezing her briefly before grabbing the sleeping bags and jamming them into a garbage bag. “We’re not even going to take these home. We’ll get new ones, doubles. Maybe we’ll even ditch the tent, what do you think? Get a new tent after the wedding? We’d talked about it before–”

Thunk.
Her world went black.

*     *     *

Lana saw the branch connect with the back of Marcella’s head just a second too late to warn her. A scream caught in her throat. A dirty, stubby-fingered hand grabbed her ponytail and yanked her backwards.

“You filthy little rugmunching bitch, you’re going to love my dick rammed into your squeaky tight cunt. You’re gonna swallow my spunk and love it. You’re gonna grind your ass into me and beg for more.
I’m gonna fuck you straight, cunt!
” Nick whisper-grunted into her ear, humping at her ass like a dog. The smell of his breath, his clothes, everything, made her gag again.

He spun her around and pushed her to her knees, waggling something she supposed was his penis. The limp piece of flesh barely poked out past the fly of his jeans. The smell of it … the odor of piss and sweat and rotten fruit and death; finally she
did
throw up.

“You pussysucking whore!” he screamed, kicking her in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her.

Lana lay on the ground, cradling her ribs, trying to force her diaphragm to work. Between gasps of air, she was still retching, water mixed with bile making an encore appearance as drool down her chin. As she struggled to breathe, he kicked her over so she was on her belly, arms trapped beneath her, then grabbed at her pants.

This spurred her into action. Breathing or not, scrambled away through the leaves. A knee landed on her kidney, the burst of pain a rainbow of colors behind closed eyelids. Finally, she was able to scream.

“Shut your dirty cakehole, cunt. You’re gonna take this like the man you want to be.” Nick repositioned himself, knees against her thighs, one hand on the back of her head, the other still trying to pull her pants down, humping at her ineffectually.

She squirmed, trying to get away from his poking, semi-hard choad. The more she fought, the limper he got, it seemed. It wasn’t until she screamed at him that his mother would be ashamed of him did his flaccidity turn around. Suddenly he was rock hard, still too small to actually get anywhere near her back entrance, but it disgusted her even more.

It also made her laugh.

Furious, he flipped her over to attack her from the front. His little fists pounded at her belly, her crotch, her thighs, assaults easily warded off as Lana continued to laugh. He spit on her face and attempted to bite her nipples through her shirt. This fresh attack with teeth renewed her anger; she stopped laughing and struck at him, scratching and punching as best she could with him straddling her, but he seemed impervious to the blows.

Somehow, he managed to get his knee between her thighs, and both her wrists into one of his hands.

“My mother left me to live with my grandparents when I was just a kid!” he growled, fumbling his jeans to mid-thigh. “She has nothing to do with this, she wouldn’t care anyway, she hates dykes just as much as I do!” He’d maintained his erection through the beating, but still had nowhere to go with her pants covering everything.

Lana laughed again.

Nick began to grunt in little squeals like a pig, still thrusting incompetently, ass bopping up and down, apparently thinking he was actually succeeding in raping her. “Mama would be proud of me now!”

Suddenly he stopped, frozen above her. His eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets. He shrieked, face twisting into a visage of pure terror. Trying to leap up, he tripped and plowed face-first into the dirt.

The acrid stench of burning hair reached Lana’s nose. She pushed herself up on her elbows, and saw Marcella – the piece of wood Lana had herself raised against Nick the night before – in her hand. Tonight, though, its end had been on fire.

“It’ll hurt to shit for a long time to come, won’t it, you greasy little retard?” Marcella’s voice was low, simmering with rage. “Who the fuck do you think you are, attacking us like this, trying to attack Lana like this? What kind of man are you?”

Seeing Nick dancing back and forth from foot to foot, ass smoldering, Lana’s giggles returned, unable to help herself despite the situation.

Marcella stuck the end of the tree limb back into the fire, bringing it to a blaze again. “Oh. Stupid question. You’re not a
man
. You’re a little boy looking for your mama. Aren’t you?”

Once again, when his mother was brought into the conversation, the smallest dick Lana had ever seen rose to its limited attention. She burst out in howls of mirth. “You really
are
a mama’s boy, aren’t you, Nicky? Widdle Nicky need a diaper? How about a bottle? Oh, no, I bet your mama
breastfed
you, didn’t she?”

Lana held out her hand to Marcella, who helped her get to her feet. They turned to Nick. It looked as though he were about to make another foul-mouthed remark, but thought better of it as he regarded them.

“You should never mess with lesbians, Nicky,” Lana said.

“Especially lesbian
witches
,” Marcella added. “We have short tempers.”

Smiling now, the two women advanced on him, backing him onto the path that led to the lake. Each step he took, he winced and whimpered. Lana imagined it hurt,
burned like fire
perhaps, each time his ass cheeks met. He stumbled into the water.

Marcella and Lana followed.

Nick went waist-deep before he began pleading for them to leave him alone, to stop bullying him. Couldn’t they see he was scared?

Of course Lana could see he was scared. About as scared as she had been the first time he’d grabbed at her. She took Marcella’s hand in hers and together they raised their fists high.

For a moment, all was silent across the lake except for Icky-Nicky’s sniffling. They watched as he took another step backward, right into the center of the full moon’s reflection.

Now.

“Aradia, look upon on the one caught in your gaze. He has harmed your daughters, he has defiled your world. We ask you, bright shining one, take vengeance on his flesh, his mind, his spirit.”

The water swirled around the wanna-be rapist. As it touched his skin, it made a
squicking
sound. His face practically shone in the moonlight, and Lana saw his confusion turn to fear and then to horror.

Speaking as one, they stepped forward once more.
“Socraigh ár biotáillí saor in aisce bheannaithe, a bheith!”

He turned, trying to swim away, but the water grew heavy around him, pulling at him, sucking him in. With each useless stroke he took, it became thicker and thicker, until it was nearly solid. His arms were trapped at his sides. As he opened his mouth in a panicked scream, the water surged over his face. It poured down his throat, pudding-like, cold.

His body convulsed, trying to cough it out. The liquid substance invaded him. Each small amount he managed to expel was quickly replaced. Waves slapped violently at his face. His head thrashed back and forth in a struggle for breath. His eyes bulged. Water flooded his nose and ears.

“Mmmpgh!
MMMMPGH!
”