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Baubo Ch. 01

By: Cal Y. Pygia



Note: Baubo is introduced in my series, "Buffy the Shemale Vampire Slayer." For those who may have missed this series (which is highly recommended), let me describe Baubo, for she is a most unusual individual. She consists of a pair of legs and a belly with a face. Her wide eyes are outlined in dark mascara, to make them stand out, and she has a pert nose above full, sensuous lips. The cleft in her chin is actually the opening to her vagina, since her chin is the same as her groin. Baubo has no arms, shoulders, neck, or head. Instead, her belly closes in a domed skull out of the scalp of which grows long, lush, curly tresses. According to Barbara G. Walker's fascinating book, The Woman's Dictionary of Symbols and Sacred Objects, Baubo was a clown who made the goddess Demeter laugh at her lewd jokes during Demeter's fertility rites. In "Buffy the Shemale Vampire Slayer," Baubo is Baphomet's former consort, whom he had deposed in favor of making Willow Rosenberg and Buffy Summers his new companions. Baubo is such an unusual and, to my mind, at least, sexy character that she deserves her own series of erotic adventures. I start hers by recounting her experience with Buffy the Shemale Vampire Slayer, whom Baphomet brought to his demon dimension after Buffy had been transformed into a hermaphrodite as a result of having been bitten by a Feral demon. Buffy was being fucked in the cunt and the ass by a demon with a double-pronged penis when Baubo joined them to suck the Slayer's cock. . .

*

As Baphomet's consort, Baubo had appeared, to the other demons, at least, to live a pampered life. She had a bevy of handmaidens who prepared and administered her bath and toilet, combing the luxurious locks of her thick, curly hair; applying the dark mascara that framed her wide eyes; highlighting her full, sensuous lips with pigment that imparted to her mouth the color and fragrance of the rose; and powdering and rouging her belly-cheeks to keep her flesh smooth and glowing. She ate dainty delicacies, drank fine wines, and was provided her fill of chocolate bonbons. She wore satin panties, fine silk stockings with a bright red garter, high heels befitting a queen, and ribbons in her hair and pubes alike. She was always scented with expensive perfumes. She served Baphomet's sexual needs, sucking his monstrous cock as best she could with her relatively small mouth, rubbing her petite pussy against its huge glans, submitting to the showers of urine and semen he splattered in her face and against her buttocks, and weeping rather than crying out in pain as he spanked her bottom until it was not merely red but black and blue with bruises and crimson with her blood. Each morning, upon awakening, she kissed his penis and his balls; each night, upon retiring, she kissed his buttocks and his anus, thereby exhibiting his superiority and her own servile worthlessness. Then, he'd watch her, sometimes gently, tenderly stroking her brow, her lips, or her labia, as she cried herself to sleep. She'd done nothing, ever, to earn his displeasure; always, she strived to please him in all things, in all ways, yet, at length, he had been displeased. He'd desired a new consort, and he'd relegated her to abject servitude as a mere minion among minions, to be used and abused as any of her fellow underlings saw fit--and to use and abuse them as Baphomet commanded.

Baubo had fled, with the rest of the demons, after her former lover, the repulsive, hermaphroditic Baphomet had commanded that they cease from their combined sexual assault upon the pretty young blonde woman. Baphomet's minions had long ago found or dug avenues of escape from the devil's throne room, so that, upon being dismissed, they could flee his hated presence. Being in the same room with his Infernal Highness was never safe, but it was most dangerous when he became bored with watching his underlings degrade one another by performing whatever humiliating and debasing sexual activities with one another that happened, at the moment, to strike Baphomet's fancy.

Having no head, no neck, no shoulders, and no arms, Baubo was helpless except for the kicks that she could deliver with her strong, if shapely, legs and the bites she could inflict with her even teeth. Consequently, many of the larger demons would pick her up, hold her, as if she were a melon, and fuck her in the ass while a companion fucked her mouth. She would kick and writhe, while warm tears rolled down her belly-cheeks, mortified to be treated in such a manner, as if she were but an inanimate object--a pair of fleshly tunnels--to be used and abused as her rapists saw fit. She knew what it meant to be ill treated, and she'd sucked the hapless blonde's cock with reluctance, sorry to be an instrument of her liege's humbling and debasement of the Slayer.

Baubo's means of egress led her to a basement hovel she'd fashioned from debris and discarded materials she'd managed to scavenge from various chambers throughout Baphomet's fortress-castle. Transporting these materials to the underground chamber in which she hid from the other residents of Baphomet's court had taken her years as she tugged and dragged and kicked the stolen lumber, seized metal, and hijacked plastic through the corridors and tunnels using nothing more than her teeth and her feet. She'd managed to bring a few of the larger panels to her miserable sanctuary by hopping here with them clutched tightly between her thighs. The rough boards had rubbed her pussy almost raw, and she'd sported ugly bruises and lacerations on her belly-face for days and weeks at a time before, finally, she'd completed her secret hideaway. Now, lying on her side, in the fetal position, Baubo wept, remembering her distant past as Baphomet's consort and her more recent history as one of the many demons who'd helped to assault the Slayer and her friend, the redheaded witch, Willow. The images came to her mind clearly, as if she were reliving, rather than merely recalling, them:

On the floor, the Slayer moaned, tears spilling from her closed eyes. The demon had slammed even more of its cock through her asshole, and, now, its second prick--or, rather, the smaller shaft that branched off from the underside of the larger one--brushed the lips of her cunt. Another inch of the upper shaft penetrated the Slayer's bottom; then, the smaller shaft slid past the petal-soft lips of Buffy's pussy. More tears, of pain and shame, spilled from her eyes. 

The tickling, flicking sensations that assaulted Buffy's nipples sent delicious waves of pleasure through her breasts, clitoris, and balls. The suction cups that the demon had affixed to her tits were equipped with tongue-like appendages. Wet and flexible, these accessories licked and lapped the swollen buds of the Slayer's nipples. More and more waves of pleasure swept through her, even as she felt mortified and ashamed because of the cock buried in her ass and the other one that continued to seek access to her cunt. 

Something wet also licked the Slayer's cock and balls. Buffy opened her eyes. A bright orange streamer of semen stretched from her left eyebrow to the bridge of her nose, partly obscuring her sight. She brushed it away with a fingertip. Looking down, past her dangling breasts, she spied the odd demon that Baphomet had identified earlier as his former consort, Baubo. The creature's back was toward Buffy, so she couldn't see the pretty face with the wide, mascara-framed eyes, the pert nose, and the bowed lips beneath the headless figure's coiffed hair. All Buffy could see was the demon's hair, which fell to its waist, and the smooth, shapely legs below its cute, dimpled buttocks. It was obvious, however, that Baubo was either sucking Buffy's cock or had inserted the Slayer's penis inside the cleft in its chin that was actually the entrance to its vagina. In any case, Buffy thought, it was damned disconcerting to see a human-like form that had neither neck, upper body, nor arms. Baubo, despite her pretty face, the cute labia-cleft in her chin, her lovely legs, her beautiful buttocks, and her stylish hair, remained but a caricature and a mockery of real women--no doubt, precisely as Baphomet intended her to be, looking like an armless, female version of Humpty Dumpty. 

The demon with the double-pronged dick jammed more of the larger branch of his cock into Buffy's asshole, and she shuddered, biting back a scream of pain and fear, not willing to admit her helplessness and her terror. The second, smaller branch of the fiend's cock slid deep into Buffy's pussy, and she felt her cunt juices rise in response, lubricating her pussy. Her asshole was not lubricated, however, and it was not meant to be fucked. As a consequence, the massive organ that filled it beyond its capacity was painful, as was every deeper thrust that it made into her rectum. Buffy was thankful, in an ironic, perverse way, that the clutching, stroking, licking sensations of the suction cups on her breasts and Baubo's mouth and tongue on her cock and balls took the edge off the discomfort and pain that being impaled by a huge cock in her ass and a lesser one in her cunt caused her to suffer. The mixture of pain and pleasure was, she realized, titillating, despite the incongruity of the two opposing sensations and the conflicting feelings, both physical and psychological, that their simultaneous experience stirred inside her. Buffy knew that she was being abused emotionally as well as sexually, but she almost no longer cared; she would rather give in to the confusion, become friends with the chaos, and enjoy the mixed feelings of pain, pleasure, guilt, fear, revulsion, self-contempt, and sexual passion. She'd like to abandon herself to these delicious, conflicting, tormenting sensations and emotions, letting them overwhelm her and possess her. The pain of the cock-thrusts into her cunt and ass were not contradicted, but complemented, by the tickling sensations in her nipples and breasts and the waves of pleasure that dashed along her cock and exploded in her balls. Bitch! Slut! Whore! She no longer minded the words that shouted themselves in her mind. In fact, she rather liked being called such vile names. They were sexy. 

Buffy's cock slipped out of Baubo's mouth, and she licked the smooth skin of the stiff, elongated shaft with her tongue. Baubo had no hands, but, even so, she was a superb cock sucker. More than once, she brought the Slayer to the brink of orgasm, then backed off, letting Buffy's sexual passion abate before she mounted another oral assault upon the young woman's perpetually hard prick, pausing to lap at the taut skin of the scrotum that surrounded Buffy's risen testicles. The suction cups also intensified and then lessened the nuzzling-licking-squeezing-nursing-caressing-pumping actions that they performed upon Buffy's cupped breasts, sending waves of pleasure undulating through her bosom and her cunt. These wonderful, delightful sensations both detracted from and enhanced the discomfort and pain that Buffy experienced as the demon's monster cock lunged and plunged through the impaled anus between Buffy's bouncing buttocks. 

The demon's balls pressed firmly against Buffy's upper thighs, its matted pubic hair rasping against the cleavage between her buttocks, as both prongs of its cock shoved into their respective orifices, all the way to the root. She could feel the stiff columns touching one another through the thin walls that separated her pussy and her rectum; they slid back and forth against one another as the demon double-fucked her with its two-pronged prick, adding both to its own sensations and to Buffy's as well. Back and forth, with greater rapidity and force each time, the demon rammed his pricks through Buffy's asshole and cunt, the former remaining dry while the latter released a flood of her warm, rich cunt juices. Buffy had never had a cock up her ass at the same time that she was being fucked in the cunt, and the flood of sensations, confounded even more by the welter of sensations that she felt in her nipples, areolas, breasts, clitoris, cock, and balls, overwhelmed her. She gasped, moaned, and, finally, screamed. 

"Buffy!" Willow cried in alarm. 

Baphomet laughed, thrusting his cock into the witch. "She's not hurt," he explained. "She's in the throes of ecstasy. "

Buffy had always thought the use of fireworks to represent orgasm was an exaggerated metaphor, but, now, in the grip of the greatest orgasm she'd ever experienced, the Slayer realized that, if anything, the metaphor was a pale visualization of the event. As her semen burst from her convulsing cock, into Baubo's hungry maw, Buffy's heart stammered, her breath came in gasps, her thighs shuddered, and her asshole trembled violently about the cock that penetrated her. She felt as if she'd died and come back to life a thousand times within the few seconds that it took for her to release the reservoir of sperm she ejaculated. At the same time, as Buffy reached orgasm, the suction cups fell from her breasts, and she felt the demon's hips press hard against her rear; a shudder ran through the fiend, and he howled, jerking his double-pronged dick from the Slayer's asshole and cunt to let the shafts spew his warm, viscid seed over her back, her ass cheeks, her perineum, her labia, and the backs of her thighs so that Buffy was kneeling in a pool of the thick fluid. 

Baubo continued to lick Buffy's semen from the Slayer's still-stiff cock and the double-dicked demon wiped the dregs of his oozing semen over the Slayer's cum-covered buttocks until Baphomet ordered them to desist. Reluctantly, upon their master's command, the lesser demons withdrew, leaving Buffy with a sore, gaping asshole, dripping, like most of the rest of her, with cum. 

Later, when Buffy had insisted that sex was about love, not power, Baphomet's harsh, cruel laughter had filled the stone chamber. "Love," he'd repeated, as if it were the punch line to a particularly funny joke. "Ask Baubo, my former consort, about love!"

Baubo had not heard her hated master's mocking remark, for she had fled with the other members of his court when he'd bidden them to cease and to desist from their assault upon the captive Slayer's body--and, through her body, her mind, for Baphomet's intent in ravishing his captives was always the same--to humble and to humiliate, to debase and to demean and to degrade them, until they lost all self-respect and, broken in spirit as in flesh, became his eternal servants.

She'd come here, to her hideaway, to lick her emotional wounds and to gather her meager reserves of hope. If she could but escape the clutches of the foul Baphomet, she could, perhaps, regain her life and restore her soul. It was while she lay, recalling the most recent horrors of which she'd been a part, that she heard the crashing and the rumbling and felt the shaking of the foundations of the devil's fortress-palace and her pitiful, long-repressed hope leaped within her as if fuel had been poured directly upon its dwindling, fitful flame.

A series of splintering sounds, enormously loud in the depths of the edifice, sounded and resounded, crashes of timber coming upon crashes of stone as great fissures opened in the walls and ceiling. Again, the vast edifice shook and trembled, and more masonry rained from the vaulted ceiling. It was obvious that the entire fortress was about to fall; in minutes, the palace would be in ruins, and Baubo, if she did not get out in time, might be but a mangled mess of flesh and blood and bone. Being a headless, armless parody of the female sex was a horrible fate, she realized, but even being a living travesty of her sex was better than being smashed to death by falling granite and oak.

Scrambling to her feet, Baubo fled, running down a long corridor that led up, through the planet's cold, dark bowels, into either the bright, warm morning or the dark, cold night, depending upon what time of day it had become outdoors while she'd been so villainously employed indoors. If she were not lucky, she would die, but at least she would die trying to flee Baphomet's brutal captivity, and, if she were fortunate, she'd escape with her life.

. . . to be continued. . . 

Baubo Ch. 02



Note: Baubo is introduced in my series, "Buffy the Shemale Vampire Slayer." For those who may have missed this series (which is highly recommended), let me describe Baubo, for she is a most unusual individual. She consists of a pair of legs and a belly with a face. Her wide eyes are outlined in dark mascara, to make them stand out, and she has a pert nose above full, sensuous lips. The cleft in her chin is actually the opening to her vagina, since her chin is the same as her groin. Baubo has no arms, shoulders, neck, or head. Instead, her belly closes in a domed skull out of the scalp of which grows long, lush, curly tresses. According to Barbara G. Walker's fascinating book, The Woman's Dictionary of Symbols and Sacred Objects, Baubo was a clown who made the goddess Demeter laugh at her lewd jokes during Demeter's fertility rites. In "Buffy the Shemale Vampire Slayer," Baubo is Baphomet's former consort, whom he had deposed in favor of making Willow Rosenberg and Buffy Summers his new companions. Baubo is such an unusual and, to my mind, at least, sexy character that she deserves her own series of erotic adventures. I start hers by recounting her experience with Buffy the Shemale Vampire Slayer, whom Baphomet brought to his demon dimension after Buffy had been transformed into a hermaphrodite as a result of having been bitten by a Feral demon. Buffy was being fucked in the cunt and the ass by a demon with a double-pronged penis when Baubo joined them to suck the Slayer's cock. . . .

*

Another terrific jolt rattled Baubo. The cracks in the walls and ceiling of the great subterranean chamber in which she'd constructed her makeshift hovel from debris and stray materials she'd stolen from various locations throughout Baphomet's fortress-palace over the years that she'd been his consort widened and deepened. Stone shifted upon stone, and timbers creaked. Already, great blocks of granite had crashed upon the stone floor, and heavy beams of wood had splintered and fallen. It would not be long, Baubo predicted, before the entire citadel was a massive ruin. She wasn't sure what was happening, although she suspected that, whatever it was, it had something to do with the big-eyed blonde, Buffy, who had come to rescue her friend, Willow, the redheaded witch, but one thing that Baubo did know was that, if she remained inside this vast edifice, the crushed pulp of her remains might be forever buried in these cavernous depths. She'd soon be forgotten, if she were ever remembered by anyone at all, and it would be as if she'd never even existed. She had to get out, fast!

Baubo ran, following the corridor that led up through the depths below the fortress-castle, wanting only to get out of the crumbling palace before it collapsed upon her. The corridor was long, and many of the citadel's other inhabitants--Baphomet's slaves--filled the hallway, scrambling to get to the doorway that led to the grounds outside, where it would be safe--or, at least, safer. Like Baubo herself, many of her fellow fiends were naked. Baphomet, who also eschewed clothing, forbade most of his minions from donning garments of any kind. He enjoyed their nudity, for most of their bodies were mockeries of the human form, as was his own hermaphroditic physique. For example, a Terrak demon shuffled through the cavernous hallway as fast as he could, the huge tip of his elephant's trunk-like cock dragging the stone floor despite his having draped its length over his interlocked palms. A shell-backed demon with thick, clawed paws click-click-clicked its way forward, its rubbery-skinned, basketball-size balls bouncing beneath it with his every jarring step. There was no way that such a creature could retain even a semblance of dignity, Baubo thought, any more than she could hope to do as a half-woman whose face occupied her belly and whose cunt was in her chin. Another demon, with violet eyes and purple skin, hurried past Baubo, its three tiers of twin breasts bouncing upon its chest.

It was ever Baphomet's intent to deny his minions any sense of dignity, but, for once his purpose was denied, for the demons, although naked and displaying the horrors of their corrupt and misshapen forms, living travesties, caricatures, and parodies of the men and women they'd once been, a lifetime and a world away, were so terrified at the prospect of being entombed within the collapsing fortress that they thought not of their twisted bodies nor of the perverse desires that had expressed themselves in the multiplication, distortion, elimination, and transformation of their breasts, penises, testicles, buttocks, labia, vaginas, hands, feet, arms, legs, and faces--that is, none thought of these things except Baubo herself. 

Even when she feared for her life, the she-demon could not entirely forget the perversion of womanhood she'd become in evolving this truncated parody of the feminine form, sloughing off her head, neck, shoulders, and arms as a snake sheds its skin. In Baphomet's demon dimension, fiends took on the twisted shapes that their perverse lives and actions, their twisted choices and lusts had spawned. Baphomet's metaphysical powers were immense, but it had been his minions, not he, who had willed themselves to adopt the hideous and absurd forms they wore as physical expressions of their spiritual essences. Having been the devil's consort, Baubo understood more than most that it had been she, not Baphomet, who had, in the final analysis, given her the present fleshly shape she wore. Like her fellow demons, Baubo was truly a self-made fiend. In her life as a woman, Baubo had been a slut. Promiscuous and licentious by choice, she'd lived with no thought but to suck and fuck as many men as she could, reducing herself to a mere walking, talking set of female genitals. It was no accident that she'd lost her head, neck, shoulders, and arms. She'd become outwardly what she'd long-since become inside--a parody and a caricature of the woman she'd once been--a personified cunt. As much as she detested the cruel, brutal devil who had been her infernal monarch, she could not blame Baphomet for what she'd become. Her own promiscuity had made her into this living parody of her former self.

A heavy tremor shook the stone floor, and the walls quaked. Dust poured from the cracked, buckling ceiling. Several of the fleeing demons screamed. A chunk of granite crashed to the floor. More demons shrieked.

The fleeing demons stopped, jumbling together in a wall of scales and horns and claws, and there were hisses and growls and snarls as fangs were bared. Strong arms shoved, curses sounded, and a demon slipped, fell, and was trampled under the feet and hooves of his fellow fiends. A demon jostled Baubo, and she tottered, nearly falling. She cried out, frightened, knowing that if she were knocked off her feet, as small as she was, she might be crushed to death underfoot.

As if in support of Baubo's thoughts, a thick, clawed foot stomped beside her. She looked up, into the wild, purple eyes of a red-faced Kekk demon. Oh, no! thought Baubo. Of all the demons in Baphomet's realm, she'd have to have run into a Kekk! Even among demons, such fiends were known--and feared--for their kinky sexual proclivities, and their pricks didn't just hump and pump; they acted in the manner of corkscrews, twisting round and round inside one's ass, cunt, or mouth. Although Baubo had had the great good fortune of having avoided these demons as sexual partners during her years here, others had confided to her that intercourse with a Kekk demon wasn't merely unpleasant, but painful and dangerous. Baubo had no desire to determine for herself what the corkscrew action of a thick, hard cock would do to her chin-pussy, her asshole, or her mouth and throat. She darted her eyes left and right, but all she could see, from the vantage point of her two-and-a-half-foot height, was a sea of legs, tails, hooves, bare feet, tentacles, paws, claws, talons, feathers, scales, fins, genitals, and buttocks. As she was seeking an avenue of escape through the larger demons who surrounded her, Baubo was bumped again. She staggered backward, tripping over a crustacean demon's armored shell, and fell hard on her fanny. A giant, furry satyr's hoof stamped the stone floor beside her as its owner, twisting, weaving, and bobbing, sought a means of progress through the crowded hallway that, for some reason, seemed to have become obstructed, halting the demon horde's headlong rush to escape the collapsing fortress in which they had been long imprisoned as Baphomet's courtiers.

Baubo scrambled away from the stamping, treading, stomping feet and hooves that surrounded her, trying to regain her feet. As small as she was, were she to be trodden underfoot by the stalled crowd, she could be badly injured and possibly killed.

Strong clawed fingers grasped Baubo by her legs, tightening firmly around her ankles, and she felt herself hoisted aloft. Fear lanced her heart, and she kicked, screamed, and wriggled fiercely, desperately trying to escape the clutches of the Kekk demon who had seized her. The bastard was strong, though, and little Baubo's resistance was pitifully ineffective. The Kekk demon merely tightened his grip upon her, holding fast to her as if she were nothing more than a thrashing fish. The fiend had rescued her from the threat of being stomped by the shifting crowd, but, in so doing, it was likely that he had only worsened Baubo's fate, because, she had no doubt, he'd extracted her from her predicament only so that he might rape her at his leisure--if they managed, after all, to get out of the crumbling palace before it collapsed entirely, burying them all beneath its massive debris.

"Hold still!" it demanded in the guttural tone characteristic of its kind. It was one of the curses in Baphomet's realm that all the demons, regardless of their language or dialect, were able to understand one another as if, despite the countless tongues in which they spoke, they communicated in a common language.

Baubo continued to struggle, kicking with her legs as she twisted and rolled her body, trying to break his grip.

"Cease," the Kekk demon commanded, "or I will dash your brains against the wall!"

Baubo, having no doubt that her captor would do exactly as he'd threatened, stopped struggling and let herself hang limp, head down, from the Kekk demon's clutching hand. She felt mortified, as she always did when her dignity was stripped from her in such a manner. Having no arms--or head or neck or shoulders--made her especially vulnerable to being seized and carried about by others, as if she were no more than a piece of property. To say that such treatment was dehumanizing was a vast understatement, for such treatment was abusive and humiliating in the extreme. "Put me down!" Baubo demanded.

"You're mine," her abductor responded.

"Never!"

Baubo felt herself hoisted higher, and the face in her belly halted before the Kekk demon's own repulsive countenance. For the first time in her life, Baubo saw the hideous countenance of the demon up close and way too personal. Beneath a jutting ledge of brow, he had wide purple eyes with red, elliptical pupils, shaped like those of a cat; a broad, squashed nose with wide, hairy nostrils; thick, rubbery lips; and a long, pointed chin bearing a crop of acne and open, running pustules, boils, and carbuncles. The demon opened its jaws, disclosing a forked tongue and three-inch-long fangs dripping with thick, mucus-like saliva. He brought Baubo closer to his gaping maw, and she smelled his fetid breath. What did this bastard have on its menu, shit? Baubo wondered. "I'd much rather fuck you," he warned, "but, if need be, I will eat you instead."

Baubo got the message. She stopped struggling, letting herself hang as so much dead weight in the Kekk demon's grip. Maybe having been caught up by the bastard was for the best, she consoled herself, for the time being, at least. It had saved her, quite possibly, from being trampled to death by the panicked demon horde. If the Kekk demon managed to escape with her in hand, she might yet escape at a later date, although she would certainly have to have sex with this vile monster before she bolted--a prospect that she found only slightly better than being trampled underfoot.

"That's better," her captor said, blasting Baubo with his putrid breath once more before it lowered his arm, letting his prisoner dangle beside the calf of his scaly leg. In her descent, quick as it was, Baubo had glimpsed the demon's penis. Apparently excited at the prospect of ravishing his captive, the Kekk demon had developed an erection. The wild tales that Baubo had heard concerning the creature's cock were true--the damned thing was spiraled, like a corkscrew. The ugly, mottled flesh that covered the grotesque penis shone with the pus that flowed from the abscesses that covered the winding organ. Baubo closed her wide, mascara-framed eyes in dread, vowing that she would die before she'd suck such a vile member or allow it to penetrate her cunt or ass.

The bunched-up crowd surged forward. Whatever obstacle had stalled their progress had apparently been breached or cast aside. Curses fouled the air as the struggling horde elbowed and shoved and struck its members, each of the demons vying for its own survival, regardless of the fate of its fellows. In all probability, if she hadn't been snatched up by the Kekk demon and carried aloft like a bag of flour, Baubo would have been trampled to death by the panicked crowd. As it was, should she survive, she would be killed anyway, soon enough, when she refused her captor's lewd advances, for, although he might force himself upon her, she was quite certain that, should she bite his cock during his attempt to make her suck his prick, as savagely and tenaciously as she could, the bastard's response would be to dash her brains against the wall or crush her in its hands as if she were no more than an oversize egg.

Tucking Baubo under its arm, as if she were a inanimate bundle instead of an intelligent being worthy of being treated with dignity and respect, the Kekk demon hastened after the rushing ranks of the demons before him, inspired, as they apparently were, by the sight of light shining into the rising corridor from the world outside this infernal fortress. Daylight meant that, ahead, lay a means of egress from this prison-palace, a means of escape, a way to freedom.

Underfoot, the fortress pitched and bucked, the walls shifting and grinding. The fine dust of crumbled granite sifted from the cracking ceiling. Although the terrified demons had no idea as to what was causing the destruction of the fortress, the reason was that another of Baphomet's captives, Buffy the Shemale Vampire Slayer, as she'd come to think of herself after she'd grown male genitals as a side-effect of having been bitten by a Feral demon, was defying her captor; as a consequence, the palace of the damned that he'd created out of his own twisted thoughts, perverted will, corrupted desires, and evil mind-set was crumbling:

Buffy's friend, Xander Harris, had jilted the vengeance demon Anya at the altar. Devastated by his public rejection of her, Anya had sought to repay him by casting a spell that whisked Willow Rosenberg, his best friend since their kindergarten days, to the demon dimension over which Baphomet ruled--or so Buffy had believed. Now, as she fought Baphomet, the devil told her the truth: "It was I, not the vengeance demon, who transported the witch to my domain. I secured Anya's pretense as the one who had arranged the witch's capture in order to snare you, knowing that you are her best friend and would risk your life to save her--not that you have the slightest chance, of course, of doing so."

Buffy was shocked. "Anya didn't send Willow here?"

"She was nothing more than you--my victim. I made her tell you all the things she told you, on pain of being vivisected--dissected alive--should she refuse. I am the true adversary, not her. When you arrived, I sent my minions to test you. The meadowlands demon, the cavern-cunt, and the phallic plants are all my spawn, as are the demons who dwell here, in my palace, with me. You resisted them all--at first--but, finally, you embraced them, in your heart and your soul, if not openly, and you began to doubt; you began to waver. You began to enjoy being both the predator and the prey, seeking both death and power in the act of sex which was, of course, always suitably perverted. Now, you know the truth: sex, like life itself, is about power, not love."

Willow sat up, looking across the stone floor at the Slayer. "Don't listen to him, Buffy. You're not a slut. You're not a whore. You're the Slayer."

A quake shook the palace. The throne jiggled atop the skulls that served as its legs. A crack opened in one of the walls. 

"Silence, bitch!" Baphomet screamed. 

"You're good, and you're kind. You're compassionate and loving and caring. You're strong and protective and courageous," Willow told the Slayer.

The crack in the wall deepened and lengthened. Another appeared, and another. There was a loud crumbling sound. 

"Shut your cock hole, witch!" Baphomet thundered. 

Part of the throne room's ceiling caved in. The frigid air of the arctic mountains rushed into the chamber. Another quake jolted the building. 

Willow stared at the devil. "I don't do cocks," she said. She looked again at Buffy, into her eyes. "You're also beautiful and sexy as hell--and good in bed--very good!"

"Don't listen to her!" Baphomet shouted at Buffy. "You are a whore, a slut, a bitch, without modesty or morals--"

The left wall crumbled, falling, and a deep fissure appeared in the floor. Stones loosened, falling into the black abyss below the palace. 

Buffy winked at Willow. "No," she told the devil, "I'm Buffy the vampire slayer--or, in your case, since you're a freaky hermaphroditic freak, a shemale vampire slayer."

Before he could react, Buffy shoved herself off his lap, jerking away from the huge cock that had impaled her buttocks. His semen trailed between her anus and the tip of his sperm-smeared cock. 

One of the skulls holding up the throne collapsed into dust, and the great chair toppled. Another crack opened in the ceiling, and more stones rained down from above. Baphomet, seated in a pool of spilled semen, paled. 

"This place--it's all a lie," Buffy declared. 

"It's something he created," Willow said. "It's foundation is doubt and fear, and its stones and timbers are guilt, shame, humiliation, and despair."

"Like the statues in the alcoves in the portico, the ones showing couples--uh--coupling--the ones he called Initiation, Humiliation, and Travesty."

"What about them?" Willow asked. 

A deep rumbling sounded, coming, it seemed, from below the palace. It grew louder and louder. The throne room, like the palace itself, shuddered. The whole edifice seemed about to collapse, Buffy thought. They had to get out of here fast. 

"They were clues, but I didn't know it at the time I saw them. He built this place--imagined it into existence, I guess we could say--based on the destructive emotions people have as a result of confusing, first-time, same-sex experiences and the humiliation, hopelessness, and despair that gays, lesbians, bisexual, and transgendered people sometimes experience in a world that derides, insults, abuses, and even kills them just because they're different."

Buffy thought of Xander and his fear of having his bisexuality discovered by those whom he loved. (She had accidentally walked in on him while he was butt-fucking Chester, a guy who worked for him on Xander's construction crew.) Xander had feared that Giles and even Willow, whom he'd known since kindergarten and who was gay herself, might no longer care for him if he came out of the closet. He'd looked sick after Buffy had learned the truth about his sexual identity, and he'd begged her not to tell anyone else. Buffy had tried to console him, offering him what she had, a few minutes ago, in the throes of one of Baphomet's spells, it seemed, regarded as mere platitudes and clichés but now recognized as truths. She'd told him that his being bisexual didn't matter, that it changed nothing between them, and that there was no shame or need for shame in being who one was. She'd reminded him that everyone, including Xander himself, had continued to love Willow after she'd come out as a lesbian. It would be no different for him, but she'd honor his request and not divulge his secret to anyone else if that was what he wanted.




Baubo Ch. 03



Note: Baubo is introduced in my series, "Buffy the Shemale Vampire Slayer." For those who may have missed this series (which is highly recommended), let me describe Baubo, for she is a most unusual individual. She consists of a pair of legs and a belly with a face. Her wide eyes are outlined in dark mascara, to make them stand out, and she has a pert nose above full, sensuous lips. The cleft in her chin is actually the opening to her vagina, since her chin is the same as her groin. Baubo has no arms, shoulders, neck, or head. Instead, her belly closes in a domed skull out of the scalp of which grows long, lush, curly tresses. According to Barbara G. Walker's fascinating book, The Woman's Dictionary of Symbols and Sacred Objects, Baubo was a clown who made the goddess Demeter laugh at her lewd jokes during Demeter's fertility rites. In "Buffy the Shemale Vampire Slayer," Baubo is Baphomet's former consort, whom he had deposed in favor of making Willow Rosenberg and Buffy Summers his new companions. Baubo is such an unusual and, to my mind, at least, sexy character that she deserves her own series of erotic adventures. I start hers by recounting her experience with Buffy the Shemale Vampire Slayer, whom Baphomet brought to his demon dimension after Buffy had been transformed into a hermaphrodite as a result of having been bitten by a Feral demon. Buffy was being fucked in the cunt and the ass by a demon with a double-pronged penis when Baubo joined them to suck the Slayer's cock. . . .

*

Buffy Summers and Willow Rosenberg materialized in Willow's motel room. The great rushing sound they'd heard when the witch's transportation spell had caught them up, whisking them across the boundary between their dimension and that of the devil Baphomet, after Buffy had managed, finally, to kill the fiend, calmed, and all was silent but for the drum of blood in their veins and the beating of their hearts, which the Slayer, with her superhuman hearing, could discern. It was always a rush to be snatched across the bending curves of the space-time continuum, as their rapid pulses and accelerated heartbeats testified. After being stranded in Baphomet's fortress-palace, it was more than good to be home again; it was fabulous! Well, Buffy corrected herself, she wasn't home, not quite, but she was, at least, back in Sunnydale, her hometown, which was situated upon one of the several gateways to hell. She'd never have suspected, even in her wildest nightmares, that she'd ever be glad to be back on the Hellmouth, but, she had to admit, being in Sunnydale was way better than being in Baphomet's dimension of the damned.

Buffy glanced at her friend. Like Buffy herself, Willow was naked. The witch's nipples stood upright, stiff and swollen, from her small breasts, surrounded by puffy areolas. Buffy examined her own nipples. They, too, were erect. Her cock was also stiff, but she'd borne a constant erection since shortly after acquiring her male genitals as a result of the Feral demon's bite she'd received yesterday--had it been only yesterday? It seemed as if years had passed since that fateful combat had occurred. Because of the perpetual state of her cock's arousal, Buffy couldn't tell by it, but her swollen nipples, like Willow's--and the tingly sensation within her moist cunt and the stiffness of her clitoris--were trustworthy evidence of her excitement. Being ripped across the universe in an instant was damned exciting, no doubt about it.

Something dripped from Buffy's face, splattering upon her breasts--a green glob of thick, viscid fluid--the semen from one of the four demons who'd taken turns ejaculating their foul seed in her face, making her Buffy the Bukkake Babe. She frowned, disgusted by the rank fluid. Not only did it look tainted, but the seed also reeked. She had to get the filthy fluid off her at once.

The transparent Willow--the witch's astral body--that had brought them here had vanished, leaving the two time-space travelers alone in Willow's motel room.

Buffy asked the witch about her see-through likeness. "How do you--?"

"I'd explain, but it would take about five years. Let's just say it's something that Tara and I were working on when she--" tears gathered in Willow's eyes as she recalled the spray of her lover's blood that resulted from the gunshot wound that Warren, the coward, had delivered from afar, thinking he was shooting Buffy. 

Buffy kissed her friend, chastely, on the cheek. "I'm sorry, Will."

The witch sniffled. "Me, too, Buff."

There was an awkward pause between them, and then Willow asked, "What do we do now? Kill Anya?"

Anya, the vengeance demon, had dispatched Willow to Baphomet's demon dimension. At first, they'd believed Anya's account as to why she'd done so--to get revenge on their friend, Xander, who'd jilted Anya--but Baphomet had explained that he'd used Anya as his pawn, threatening to dissect the vengeance demon alive if she didn't deliver Willow into his hands so that he could make the witch his consort and lure the Slayer to his domain, making Buffy his second paramour. Under the circumstances, Buffy thought it best not to kill the vengeance demon, although she'd wanted to do so badly enough before Baphomet's confession.

Buffy looked at her nakedness. She frowned at a gob of the colored semen she wiped from her face. "Take a shower. Then, get dressed. Do you have some clothes I could borrow?"

Willow frowned, pouting. "I guess, but I'd rather see you naked."

Buffy rolled her eyes, offering her friend a smile. "Say, Will--can you do a spell that would make everyone forget what happened during the past couple of days?"

Willow shrugged. "Sure, I guess. Who's 'everyone'?"

"Well. . . you, me, Anya, Giles, Xander--"

"Xander! He knows?"

"Not about you and me--not about, you know, us--but, well, he--"

"Never mind! I don't want to know. I'll just put him on the list. But, Buffy--don't you want to remember?"

"No. Do you?"

The witch smiled, remembering Buffy's cock up her ass, when Baphomet had commanded the Slayer to fuck her brutally. "Maybe some parts," she confessed. 

"As long as I don't remember and you don't remind me," the Slayer stipulated. 

"Deal."

Borrowing a towel from Willow, Buffy stepped into the witch's bathroom.

"Call me if you need any help," Willow quipped, eyeing her friend lasciviously.

Buffy smiled, shaking her head. "I think I can manage," she replied, "but thanks." She closed the bathroom door, hung the towel on a nearby hook, opened the door to the shower stall, and stepped inside. She turned the water on, made sure it was the temperature she liked, and stepped under the steaming spray. The hot water felt good, although it stung her bruised and lacerated body. The demon semen in her hair, on her face, and on her breasts washed away. Already, having been in the shower only seconds, she felt clean again, physically if not yet emotionally.

She closed her eyes, enjoying the hot water that sluiced over her bare flesh. She scrubbed her shoulders, her arms, her breasts, her tummy. Lather washed over her wet, shining curves. She felt the water run through her downy blonde pubic hair, parting at the junctures of her cock and groin to trickle over her scrotum and down her smooth inner thighs. The water continued to shower down upon her, hot and sensuous, splashing the nape of her neck, her shoulder blades, and back. The water cascaded over her round, sleek buttocks and ran down the backs of her thighs and calves.

Buffy's eyes snapped open. Hands cupped her breasts, squeezing them gently. "What the hell?"

"Relax, Buffy," Willow said. "It's me." The witch's hands rubbed the soap-slick spheres of the Slayer's breasts.

Buffy seized Willow's hands in her own, drawing them away from her boobs. "What are you doing in my shower?" she demanded. "And how did you get in here without me hearing you?"

"Technically, it's my shower," Willow reminded her. "And I teleported here. I thought you might want someone to wash your back for you."

"It's not my back you were, uh, washing."

"Give me time."

"Out!"

Willow frowned. "Oh, all right, Little Miss Spoil-My-Fun."

"You're Gay Girl; I'm straight, remember?"

"You didn't seem too straight when you were--"

"I didn't have a choice."

"We always have a choice, Buffy."

"Okay. I chose to save your ass; to do so, I had to fuck it. That doesn't make me gay."

Willow grinned. "It's a start."

Buffy turned to face her friend, but Willow was looking at Buffy's boobs, not her face. "No, it isn't, Will. It's not a start. It's not even a beginning. Now, please."

Willow sighed. "You can't blame a girl for trying, right?"

"Wait for me--in your living room."

Willow smiled, thinking of the tiny size of her motel room. "I have a living room?" she quipped.

Before the question was completed, the witch vanished, reminding Buffy of a line in The Wizard of Oz. Dorothy had said something like, "My goodness! People come and go so quickly here." Willow sure did, Buffy thought. Well, now that her friend had popped out, Buffy could finish her shower in private, at least. She added soap to her washcloth and bathed her genitals, male and female, scrubbing her still-stiff, standing cock and the labia behind her scrotum. Again, she was amazed at having a cock and balls of her own. They still seemed bizarre, but not nearly as preposterous as they had when she'd acquired them yesterday. They'd been part of her for over twenty-four hours, and she'd gotten used to them--well, not really used to them; she'd never really get used to them, not if they remained part of her anatomy forever. It was weird for her, a young woman, to have male genitals. It was freaky--way freaky. It was kind of sexy, too, though, she thought. She actually liked having her own cock and balls. She enjoyed the way her penis stood, stiff and swollen, upright against her sleek tummy, and the way her testicles had risen inside the taut, risen bag of her scrotum. It made her feel--well, manly. Feeling manly wasn't weird, the way she thought it would be; it was erotic. It was heady. It was exciting. Masturbation was really different, too. Her cock didn't get wet the way that her cunt did; instead, it seemed to gather her into herself, as if she were but an extension of its rigidity, its swollenness, its elongation. When she'd come, in her own bathroom, shortly after spouting her cock and balls, as she was experimenting with them, the sensation had been incredible! Guys were lucky. Their orgasms were intense, and ejaculation was--well, overpowering. She was glad to have experienced sex as a male. From now on, she would have a greater and deeper appreciation of them, their emotions, their sensations, and their needs.

As she gently washed her balls, they vanished, as did her cock. One moment, they were there, lathered with soap; the next moment, they were gone, as if they'd never existed. Buffy blinked, shocked. She wasn't used to genitals appearing and disappearing before her eyes. Now that they were gone, she felt let down, disappointed. She sighed, missing her male genitals. She'd gotten used to them--well, sort of. She'd come to admire and accept, even to like, them--and, now, in an instant, they were gone. It wasn't fair! It wasn't--

--a loud thump broke her reverie. Buffy tensed, eyes widening. "What was that?"

"Buffy!" Willow sounded frightened.

The Slayer jerked the shower stall door open, heedless of the water blasting from the showerhead, stepped onto the tile floor, and grabbed the towel. She wrapped it about herself, tucking a corner into the front to keep it secure.

"Buffy!" Willow cried, more loudly than before.

In the witch's living room, the sound of the wind died, and the Kekk demon, having just arrived in this strange environment from Baphomet's demon dimension, Baubo tucked under his arm, looked to his left and his right, quickly reconnoitering his new surroundings. Baubo took advantage of her captor's momentary confusion, delivering a kick to his midsection that was sufficiently powerful to break the demon's grip. She fell to the floor, landing on her side.

The demon whirled on her. "Bitch!"

Baubo struggled to rise. It wasn't easy to get up, she thought for the thousandth time, when one had no hands or arms.

A door burst open, and a young, slender blonde dressed in a towel sprang into the motel room's living area, fierce determination in her hazel eyes, the set of her jaw, and her balled fists. She scanned the room, locating Willow. The witch stood beside her broken-down couch, near a cheap coffee table, her wide eyes staring at the demon trespassers.

Buffy followed Willow's gaze. A hulking, red-skinned, purple-eyed demon glared at her. Beside the massive fiend, a curious, female version of Humpty Dumpty lay on her side, kicking her well-sculpted legs and screaming at the bigger, taller demon. The big demon bent to seize the smaller one, which was all the encouragement Buffy needed. She spun, lifting her leg high overhead, and kicked the larger demon hard in the face. It staggered, but retained its footing.

"Buffy," Willow cried, recognizing the smaller, egg-shaped demon with legs. "It's Baubo!"

"So I see," the Slayer answered.

Recovered from Buffy's roundhouse kick to its head, the Kekk demon lunged at the Slayer. Like its adversary, Buffy had lightning reflexes, and she sidestepped the fiend's charge, connecting with a blow between its shoulder blades that dropped the monster to its knees. Buffy followed with a kick to the side of its face that knocked the bastard into an end table beside Willow's couch, toppling and breaking a lamp.

"Buffy!" Willow chastised her friend. "Be careful!"

"Sorry."

The Kekk demon was down, but it wasn't out. Launching itself to its feet, it whirled, spittle flying from its fanged, open mouth. It grunted and moaned and wheezed.

"You're not much of a conversationalist," Buffy quipped.

The demon's red eyes glowed.

"That doesn't look good," Willow warned.

Baubo seemed to agree with the witch's statement. The egg-shaped demon with the shapely legs edged toward the motel room's front door. How it would manage to open the door without hands wasn't clear, but Baubo had seen the wide-eyed blonde enter this area of the witch's abode through such a portal, so she knew that the door represented a means of egress, if she could open it. Besides, it was located across the room, away from the Kekk demon--and the Slayer.

The glow in the fiend's eyes intensified; a moment later, its red skin was also glowing. It looked as if it might melt--or burst. A moment later, it did burst, its flesh exploding from its body in a shower of hideous, hot tissue the consistency of paste.

"Shield us!" Willow cried, and an invisible bubble formed around her and the Slayer. The red goop that had been the demon's epidermis popped and sizzled against the unseen barriers. Perhaps the skin contained a powerful, corrosive acid, Buffy thought. She was grateful that Willow had had the presence of mind--and the ability--to act, interposing a mystical screen between them and the demon's exploding flesh.

The glow on the demon's eyes and skin had subsided, and Buffy and Willow could see that it was unharmed. Apparently, the explosion of its outermost layer of skin had left the underlying layers--and the demon himself--unharmed.

"That's quite a skin condition," Willow remarked.

"Yeah," Buffy chimed in. "He really should see a good dermatologist."

The Kekk demon lifted its arms, extending them at shoulder level.

"What are you trying to do, now?" Buffy asked. "Kill us with your vile body odor?"

A dark, oily substance streamed down its ribcage, its waist, and its outer thighs, pouring onto the motel room's carpet. An amazing amount of the fluid gushed from what Buffy and Willow assumed were specialized glands in its armpits.

"You're really gross," Buffy told her adversary.

The Kekk demon vigorously wiped its clawed foot through the pool of black fluid in which it now stood, and a spark erupted, igniting the oily substance. In an instant, a tall wall of flame rose, flickering and wavering in the billowing smoke that filled the close confines of the tiny motel room. Buffy and Willow choked.

"Out, fire!" Willow commanded, and the flames sputtered, dying, but not before, having reached the front wall of the living room, they'd burned through the flimsy door. In the confusion, Baubo escaped into Sunnydale's streets, fleeing, naked, for her freedom and her life.

Willow looked at the damage the Kekk demon had done to her motel room. "Buffy," she pleaded, "put an end to this asshole before I have to sleep on the street."

"I'm trying," Buffy answered.

"Maybe you've done more damage to it that we thought," Willow observed, watching the demon as, having knelt on the ruined carpet, it hunched forward, retching.

"Smoke inhalation?" Buffy wondered.

Willow frowned, staring at the hole that the demon's fiery attack had burned through her front door. The smoke in the room continued to pour outdoors. "I don't think so, Buff."

A stream of vomit gushed from the Kekk demon's throat, onto the blackened carpet, and Buffy's eyes widened as she saw something moving in the foul, chunky fluid. As far as she could tell, they were small balls.

"What the hell--?" the Slayer wondered.

"I don't think we want to know," Willow predicted.

As Buffy and Willow watched, the spheres cracked open, like eggs hatching, and something wriggled within their broken fragments.

"I don't like the looks of this," Willow said.

Tiny creatures hopped out of the fractured globes. Although they were only an inch or so in height, Buffy could make out enough detail regarding their appearance to see that they, like all the monsters from Baphomet's demon dimension, were bizarre looking. They resembled bipedal insects. Standing upon two legs and equipped with wasp-like wings, they had a long, pointed proboscis, indicating, probably, that they were bloodsuckers; a segmented body consisting of elongated head, thorax, and slender, pointed abdomen; and long, narrow, ski-like feet. They also had appendages rather like miniature arms, ending in pointed pincers rather than hands. Bending their legs, they crouched, ready to spring.

"Return!" Willow cried as the strange insect-like creatures leaped toward the Slayer.

Midway to their target, the insect-demons collided with an invisible force field that, judging from the result, must have been shaped like a concave plane, with the sharply curved surface facing them, for they swooped back the way they'd come, traveling in an almost semi-circular trajectory, into the face of the Kekk demon who, moments before, had regurgitated them. Apparently, among whatever other offensive capabilities they possessed, the insect-demons were capable of stinging, for the Kekk demon danced spastically around in a small circle, swatting itself as it dodged and weaved.

Willow laughed, earning a quizzical look from Buffy. "It's funny, Buff," the witch explained.

Buffy shrugged. Then, pressing the advantage that Willow's surprise attack against the Kekk demon had given her, she threw herself forward, smashing a fist into her adversary's monstrous face and following it with rapid-fire follow-up blows. The Kekk demon's knees buckled, and it fell on its face, the stinging insect-demons continuing their attack, heedless of the Slayer. Before Buffy's and Willow's startled eyes, great, bulbous blisters rose all over the Kekk demon's body, wherever one of the insect-demons had stung it, and green-and-yellow pus flowed from a score or more of these bulges. Grimacing in disgust, Buffy nodded toward a potted plant hanging in a macramé net from a ceiling hook. "Give me that, Willow!"

The witch removed the potted plant, passing it to her friend. Buffy accepted the plant, rolling her eyes. "Not this," she clarified, "the macramé." While Willow retrieved the network of coarse, knotted strings, Buffy smashed the pot over the Kekk demon's head. Potting soil flew everywhere, along with shards of the pot and leaves and stems from the plant itself, adding to the considerable mess that Willow's motel room had become. The impact had virtually no effect on the Kekk demon, though. "Hurry," Buffy prompted Willow.




Baubo Ch. 04



Baubo crept from her hiding place in the shadow of a palm tree. Although the sun had set and night had fallen, the streetlamps illuminated the lanes and boulevards enough that, were she not careful, she might be seen. It had been a long time--centuries--since she'd been in this world, but it was dimly familiar--almost. A lot had changed, however. The hovels in which the peasants lived, for example--they were magnificent, and, indeed, the rabble dressed--in some cases, at least--much better than even the lords and ladies of her day--or, perhaps, the persons she supposed to be rabble were the lords and ladies of this day, whatever day it was. The streetlamps were hung on tall poles. How could the torch lighters reach them? she wondered. Did they ascend ladders? If so, the effort hardly seemed worth it. Wouldn't it make far more sense to ensconce the torches on lower poles? And why were the flames enclosed in crystal globes?

She gazed up at the moon. A crescent, it was not high enough in the sky for the hour to be late, despite the darkness of the night, and this village was far larger than any Baubo had ever seen. Shouldn't there be chariots? Shouldn't lords and ladies be out, in all their finery? Surely, in a township of this magnitude, there must be plenty of dinner parties and a bevy of balls. Where were the horses and riders? Where were the handmaidens and the slaves? Where, indeed, were pedestrians of any class or kind? Except for Baubo, the streets seemed empty, deserted.

Although the lack of a throng made it easier to conceal herself, it was also disquieting. There were lights in the windows of the houses, but, otherwise, the village was as still and silent as if it had experienced a plague. Where, she wondered, was she, anyway? This sprawling village of well-maintained lawns, trimmed shrubs, and carefully tended flowers resembled none she'd ever seen in Athens--or any other Greek or Mediterranean town. Ahead, she saw a sign, craftily made of what appeared to be tin, but painted tin. Fortunately, the sign was situated beneath one of the high torches. Although she could not read the strange words it bore, she believed that they were probably related to the town: "Welcome to Sunnydale," it read. "Population 38,500. Enjoy Your Stay." Sunnydale? Baubo wracked her memory, but she was unable to recall any such settlement in or around Athens. Indeed, as far as she knew, there was no such place in all of Greece, which meant, perhaps, that she was not in Greece. But if she was not in her own country, where was she?

The women here, like Baubo, seemed to go naked rather than clothed. Both the wide-eyed blonde and her friend, the redheaded witch--Buffy and Willow, they called themselves--had been naked in Baphomet's demon dimension and, except for the white, wrap-around robe that the one called "Buffy" had been wearing when Baubo had arrived with the Kekk demon, it seemed that neither Buffy nor her friend normally wore clothes in their own world, either. The women's customary nudity was good, she thought, for Baubo also wore no clothes--at least, for the last several centuries, she hadn‘t done so. Before she'd become Baphomet's consort, she had worn clothes, though, she thought. Hadn't she? Long centuries ago, when she'd lived in Greece?

She'd been a wanton woman--that she could remember clearly enough! As Baubo skulked about the streets of Sunnydale, her mind recalled her dim, distant past.



The hills, like the fields, were green and lush. Always, the mountains and the meadows were verdant, and the branches of the trees were heavy with olives, just as the vines sagged with the grapes of future wines. Along the rough roads and the ubiquitous coasts, where the white-capped seas frothed upon the golden sands, the bright lavender blossoms of the Hottentot figs were everywhere to be seen, and the thick stands of green barley formed great islands and continents among the ocean of grasses and natural ground covers. From March through October, clouds of white butterflies could be seen flitting among the blossoms of the field. In the small villas, bracts of bougainvillea brightened stone walls, wooden fences, and high, round porches. Herds of goats, white against emerald grasslands, roamed the hillsides, and fishermen often spied brown-backed loggerhead turtles, festooned with barnacles, in the blue-green waters of the Mediterranean. Even today, Greece was a beautiful land; thousands of years ago, much less abused and polluted by those who sought to build a civilization upon her soils, she had been a spectacular country, so beautiful that it took one's breath away to look upon her.

It was in those days that gods, goddesses, and all manner of fabulous creatures lived within, or visited, the islands. Baubo had been one of them.

The deities and mortals had, in many cases, been as bizarre as the lesser creatures of the woods and fields. Artemis, or Athena, for example, possessed three tiers of breasts upon her bosom and, as a consequence, was able to give suck to as many as fifteen babes at once, not that, as far as Baubo knew, she ever had.

Hermaphroditus had been a splendid young man until the naiad Salmacis spied him while she was gathering flowers near her pool in the forests of Caria. The poor boy! Although, as the offspring of the goddess Aphrodite and the god Hermes, he was himself divine, he'd been reared by nymphs in a cave on Mount Ida, in distant Phrygia, not leaving their care until his fifteenth year. He'd known nothing of women, nor of nymphs, and Salmacis' attraction to him frightened the youth. At length, realizing that the boy was not interested in her, despite her own interest in him, she withdrew. Supposing her gone, the young man stripped off his clothes and slid into the cool, liquid embrace of the pond.

However, seeing his nakedness, Salmacis, who had hidden herself among the boles of the trees surrounding the pool, dove into the pond. Wrapping his body in her arms and legs, she pressed her kisses upon his brow, his cheeks, his lips, and his neck, all the while fondling and caressing him passionately. Terrified, the boy struggled against her, but she prayed to the gods that their bodies might be melted into one, that they might never part, and the deities, beholding her passion for the youth, granted her petition. Henceforth, they were one, both male and female--and neither. The youth, blessed--or cursed--with feminine breasts and buttocks and with the narrow waist of a boy and the genitals of a male, begged the same gods who had transformed him to change all others who bathed in the pond as well, and the deities heard him and granted his wish. To this day, it is said, any, whether male or female, who dip themselves in Salmacis' pool emerge as hermaphrodites, so-called in honor of the youth who was first thus transformed.

All these tales, Baubo knew well, although she hadn't thought of them for years. Now, having escaped the clutches of the brutal Baphomet, whom the big-eyed blonde had killed, Baubo, stranded in a strange and terrifying world, sought emotional refuge in memories of her own, dear, long-lost Greece. In recalling her past, she recollected the wondrous creatures she'd bedded, beginning with the Amazon warrior, Aegina.



The word "Amazon" meant "one breasted." The men had named them that because of their mistaken belief that these fierce female warriors had cut or burned off their right breasts in order to make themselves more proficient in drawing their bowstrings. Nothing could have been further from the truth. From personal experience, Baubo knew that Aegina, like her sisters, had two breasts and that having two breasts had never interfered with any of them; they fired arrows as well as any man--and better than most. Nevertheless, "Amazons" was such an unusual name that it caught on, and, eventually, the women adopted it as their own.

Aegina was a mighty warrior, but, despite her strength, stamina, and courage, she possessed many fine, feminine qualities. She was kind and compassionate (when she wasn't killing an enemy combatant), and she was quick to laugh. She was a true friend, loyal and steadfast in her affections, and devoted to her companions. Despite the centuries--indeed, the millennia--that had intervened between today and the few months during which Baubo and Aegina had been friends--and, indeed, lovers--Baubo recalled the Amazon's appearance as if they'd just parted company this morning. Blessed with thick, curly hair as black as the interior of a cave on a moonless midnight and eyes like burnished obsidian, Aegina had full, sensuous lips, high cheekbones, and a pert, narrow nose. She had broad shoulders, smallish breasts, a firm, somewhat concave belly, narrow, almost manly, hips, sinewy thighs and bulging calves, compact buttocks, a powerful, sculpted back, and strong, muscular arms. Her sex was small, too--a mere cleft within the hairless mound between her legs. Although she was undeniably beautiful of face, Aegina had a body that, despite her breasts and vagina, was more manly than womanly in its appearance--a fact that had somehow excited Baubo and had made her want Aegina as a lover more than she'd ever wanted anyone before, which, given her considerable experience in sexual matters, was a not an inconsiderable measure. Headless and armless, with a face in her belly and a cunt in her chin, Baubo had made a huge impression on Aegina as well.



They'd met early this morning when, traveling through a mountainside grove of olive trees, Baubo, hot and tired, with aching feet, had spied a pool at the edge of a meadow thick with wildflowers. Naked as was her custom, she'd left the edge of the wood, jogged through the tall grass, and slipped into the cool water. At only two and a half feet tall, Baubo had been unable to see beyond the grasses and had caught only a glimpse of the pool from the path she'd been following through the high grove. Thus, when she heard the lapping of waves in what had been a placid pool, she turned, startled, looking up in surprise--and fear--at a tall, strapping woman. Like Baubo, the mighty stranger was also naked. It was odd, Baubo thought, that she'd encountered the female warrior in the same manner as the nymph had met Hermaphroditus, for, just as he had been a beautiful, rather feminine youth, even before his transformation, the Amazon was masculine despite her femininity. Indeed, viewed from the back, except for the roundness of her bottom, she might have been mistaken for a long-haired man. Her wide shoulders, muscular back, powerful arms, and sinewy legs were every bit as strong as any man's. However, her face was beautiful, as were her small, but perfect, breasts.

"Who--or what--are you?" the mighty Amazon warrior asked, upon seeing the petite female.

"I am Baubo," she answered, "a goddess."

Aegina chuckled at her response. "A goddess?" she repeated, her tone of voice as incredulous as her merry expression.

Baubo arched an eyebrow.

Finding the sight of an eyebrow arching over the wide, mascara-framed eye in Baubo's truncated body amusing, Aegina smiled mischievously. "And what, pray tell, does a goddess such as yourself do, little one?"

Now, Baubo did smile, her lips forming a lascivious bow. "Let's go somewhere private," she answered, "and I'll show you."



Aegina lived in a villa made of stone. Before entering the house, the Amazon, having since donned her gauzy gown, showed her guest the grounds. In the front yard, there was but a small lawn in which she'd planted bright blossoms. In the back yard, hemmed in by a low stone wall, there were more flowers as well as shrubs and small shade trees. Flanked by a series of wrought-iron benches alternating with potted palms, stepping stones led from the villa's rear entrance to a wide circle filled with stones in the middle of which was a fountain that sprayed a stream of sparkling, sunlit water that splashed into a white marble bowl. The water spewed from the cunt of a naked, muscular woman. The figure, Baubo realized, had been sculpted in the likeness of Aegina. Its every feature, facial and physical, was the same as Baubo's Amazon hostess. Gorgeous, the statue seemed to radiate not only beauty but power and a curious blend of both femininity and masculinity. Baubo's eyes lingered on the smooth contours of the bulging muscles in the arms and legs; on the firm, small breasts that swelled the otherwise masculine chest; and on the cleft between the powerful thighs from which the water cascaded into the bowl in which the figure stood. Nodding toward the likeness of her hostess, Baubo said, "It's you."

Aegina smiled, nodding. "A gift," she explained, "from a previous lover, the sculptress Chrysanthe."

Baubo's eyes widened. "The same who carved the statues of the goddesses in the agora in Athens?"

Aegina nodded.

Baubo grinned, shaking her head. "Impressive."

"Come," the Amazon invited, "let me show you my house."

Aegina led the way back down the walk, between the benches and the potted palms, to the rear entrance. Unlatching the heavy door, she stepped aside, bidding her guest to enter, and Baubo, who'd enjoyed the sashaying sway of her hostess' firm, tight buttocks, stepped past her, over the threshold, and into a foyer in which the ceiling, walls, and floors were of the same material--fine, polished white marble. Along the walls, ensconced torches flickered, casting their wavering light upon tables set with bronze and copper figurines, a silver pitcher and a matching bowl, and a shadowbox full of miniature gold idols. Baubo peered up at the tiny statues of the deities, hoping to see one of herself, but she was not represented among the host.

Joining her guest, Aegina closed the door behind her. "Let us take the tour," the Amazon suggested.

Following her hostess' lead, Baubo took her eyes off Aegina's compact buttocks as they entered one chamber and then the next. The house was beautifully furnished with low divans upholstered in brocaded silk; elegant chairs with fine, curving legs and backs shaped like the shells of the sea; tables of gleaming cypress, acacia, and ash; and fireplaces of stone cut from local quarries. There was an indoor pool, as well, at the head of which stood a marble figure of Artemis, the goddess of the hunt, shown naked except for the quiver of arrows she wore on her back and the bow she held in her right fist. Her left arm was raised and bent, its hand clutching an arrow that she was forever in the process of drawing from the quiver. From the nipples of her firm, high, round breasts, water flowed, instead of milk, coursing over her gleaming belly, her smooth groin, and her sinuous thighs and calves to run into the pool at her feet. 

Admiring the beautiful work of art, Baubo asked, "Chrysanthe again?"

Aegina smiled. "Another."

Baubo, surprised, turned from the statue to the Amazon. Her eyes widened. Aegina had disrobed; she stood naked, looking even lovelier in the flesh than the soft, shadowy outline of her form beneath the gauzy robe had suggested. Baubo gulped, staring. "It seems you've known several women skilled in the art of sculpture."

Aegina opened her arms to her guest. "I have," she agreed, "but, until now, I've never entertained a goddess."

Baubo grinned, crossing the tiled floorin which a mosaic showed another image of Artemis, again naked. She reclined upon a hillside, seated upon her cast-off vestment--blue and white robes of silk--with her feet at the edge of a pool, her female attendant, also naked, seated beside her. The goddess' foot was pressed into the side of the handmaiden's knee, and the latter, smiling, gazed upon this intimate contact. As Artemis' dogs looked on, beside their mistress' discarded quiver of arrows, it seemed, to Baubo at least, as if the maid's eyes would, any moment, sweep up the goddess' calf and thigh, to the true center of her divinity.

Observing her guest's interest in the mosaic, Aegina said, "It's called Artemis At Her Bath."

Baubo smiled. "It seems she's intent upon more than just a bath."

"So am I, dear Baubo," Aegina confessed. She stood inside the lintel set between the two columns that led into her bedroom. The pillars were of the caryatid type--columns shaped like women--and similar to those in the Porch of the Caryatids that formed part of the Erechtheum on the Athenian Acropolis, except that, in this case, the carved figures were naked rather than robed.

Baubo marveled at the stately nudes for a moment before, leaving the mosaic, she joined her hostess in the lintel between the caryatids. Together, they crossed the threshold, stepping into Aegina's bedchamber. Like the rest of her house, this room was furnished in costly elegance.

A purple tapestry, edged in gold, showed a fierce battle between Amazons and men. The women warriors were winning, as dozens of dead or dying men littered the battlefield while there was but a single downed Amazon. Horses reared and stamped as their fierce, female riders swung battleaxes, launched arrows, and hacked with swords, the daughters of Ares and Otrera steadily adding more to the number of their vanquished enemy. The bed stood below the tapestry.

Built after the fashion of the Greeks, but with higher legs, the top of the open frame was criss-crossed with sturdy, braided cords upon which a mattress stuffed with goose-down was laid. Sheets and blankets were folded at the foot of the bed, and a great pillow stuffed with the fine feathers of the same type of bird that had supplied the mattress' stuffing were covered in satin sheets.

On either side of the bed, a table stood, bearing a bronze oil lamp. Before the stone fireplace opposite the bed, a bronze tripod as tall as Baubo stood, holding a scalloped cauldron of the same gleaming metal. In the wall on either side of the magnificent fireplace was a bas relief, each a mirror image of the other, showing fauns pressing grapes--except, like the other images and figures in Aegina's house, these were female, not male. They had the cloven hooves, furry legs, and horns on their heads that were characteristic of male satyrs, but their bodies were soft with smooth, flowing curves; their hips were full; and they had firm, round maidens' bosoms. There were four figures. On the left, a dancing faun played a panpipe. In the center, two fauns, holding hands, trampled grapes. At the right, a faun bore a basket of additional grapes.

"Lovely," Baubo commented. She gazed to her left, beholding a pair of hand-carved chairs flanked by small tables with round tops bearing vases of bronze abloom with fright bouquets of cut flowers. To the left of these chairs, a marble pedestal, again in the shape of a naked caryatid, held a familiar image. Baubo frowned, then grinned. The statue was one of her! "I thought you'd never heard of the goddess Baubo," she told her hostess.

The Amazon returned her grin. "I lied," she said.

Baubo chuckled. "I would have you know me better," she replied--"much better."

Stooping, the warrior placed a palm at each side of Baubo's head, lifting her tenderly to her naked bosom. Baubo's face pressed into Aegina's smooth, soft breasts, and the goddess kissed the sleek flesh. Carrying her guest, the Amazon crossed the room to her bed, placed Baubo on the mattress, and perched beside her. "I would have you know me better, too," she agreed. "I would have you know every inch of me, inside and out."

. . to be continued. . . .



Baubo Ch. 05



Aegina sat on the bed, beside Baubo. Beneath the Amazon's weight, the tight lattice of braided cords that supported the down-stuffed mattress sagged. The warrior woman's weight was solid muscle, though, for, despite her size, which was considerable, Aegina had virtually no fat upon her frame--other than her small, girlish breasts and a bit of padding on her compact buttocks. She had a physique that, but for these obviously feminine charms--and her cunt, of course--could easily have been mistaken for that of a brawny man. However, her face was more beautiful than most other women's. Although Baubo was lovelier than her Amazon hostess, Aegina was a close runner-up.

"Had I not known that you are divine, I would have guessed as much," Aegina told Baubo, "for you are too beautiful to be a mere mortal." The Amazon's hand gently stroked Baubo's hair.

Although Baubo knew that her hostess was not merely praising her with idle words, she blushed, nevertheless. After having been the vile Baphomet's sex slave for centuries, bearing his insults and abuses, often being beaten for no reason but that the cruel devil delighted in sadistic cruelty, it was good to hear a compliment. It would have been acceptable even to hear mere flattery, but to have been paid a sincere compliment was delightful. "You are beautiful, too," Baubo replied.

Leaning far down, Aegina kissed Baubo's lips with her own. The goddess returned the Amazon's kiss, pressing her own lips firmly into Aegina's. The warrior woman extended her tongue. The wet, pink tip touched Baubo's lips, slipped past them, and entered her mouth, swirling about Baubo's own moist tongue. They probed each other's mouths, licking the insides of each other's cheeks, bathing the roofs of each other's mouths, and lapping the hollows at the bottoms of their oral cavities, beneath their questing tongues. They swallowed their own--and one another's--spittle. Aegina's finger found the cleft in Baubo's chin--the cleft that was the entrance to the pussy in her face, stroking the tiny, hooded clitoris within. Baubo trembled.

Aegina drew her mouth from Baubo's. A thin strand of saliva stretched between their wet lips. "Lie down," the Amazon said.

Baubo scooted farther back onto the bed and pushed off from the mattress with her feet, propelling herself backward. Falling onto her buttocks, she spread her legs, providing easy access to her cunt-chin.

Aegina leaned farther forward, licking the moist cleft at the center of the "V" formed by the juncture of Baubo's groin and thighs. She was mildly surprised to see that her guest's cunt was already damp. Apparently, Baubo had wanted sex more than Aegina had realized. She was a horny little thing, but that was fine with the woman warrior; she'd satisfy her! Aegina gave the little cleft of Baubo's pussy several short, rapid strokes with her tongue, and the Humpty Dumpty-like figure writhed, her legs convulsing, as she moaned with pleasure. The Amazon followed these initial strokes with slow, long licks to Baubo's now-erect clitoris. Baubo groaned, rolling from side to side. Had she hands, she'd have grasped the Amazon by her hair, so keen was the passion building in her loins, and tugged, drawing Aegina's face firmly into her chin-pussy. Baubo's juices flowed freely, wetting her thighs and the mattress beneath her rolling buttocks.

Aegina's own pussy was drenched; her juices flowed from her labia, trickling down her powerful, manly thighs. Her clitoris was rock hard, like a miniature prick. Even at two and a half inches, it was normally too small to use as a cock, but, in Baubo's case, given the smallness of the goddess' pussy, Aegina's stiff clitoris might serve such a purpose, the Amazon thought. The problem was that the goddess was of such a tiny stature that it would be difficult to mount her--difficult, but not impossible.

"Uh!" Baubo moaned as her hostess continued to lick and kiss and stroke her cunt and clitoris. The diminutive deity's chin was soaked, as if she'd drooled profusely--except that the fluid was not saliva but the lubricating juices of the aroused cunt within her chin. Had she hands, she might wipe away the wetness, but, as it was, she had no choice but to suffer the warm fluid to wash down her chin and the inner slopes of her smooth thighs. The mattress was wet beneath her rolling hips and ass. At one time, wetting the bed with her cunt juices had embarrassed her, but it had happened so many hundreds of times now that Baubo paid it no mind, nor, if she could judge by their reactions, had her many lovers, male and female.

Aegina stopped servicing Baubo's cunt with her lips and tongue. Sitting up, she hoisted herself onto her knees. Drawing Baubo around by her legs, the Amazon positioned her guest so that she lay parallel with the sides of the mattress and was near its center. Then, she lay atop the petite deity, grinding and rolling her hips against Baubo's chin-pussy. The Amazon felt the hard bud of her clitoris penetrate Baubo's cunt, as if the clitoris were a cock, and she started fucking her latest lover, moving her hips up and down slowly so that her erect organ moved back and forth in measured, deliberate strokes. Aegina's thrusting ridge of flesh moved easily inside the flooded gates of Baubo's chin-pussy, and the Amazon, aroused by the oddity of fucking another woman in the face, began to shove her clitoris faster and harder into the impaled chin-cunt, humping Baubo's head with a fierce determination.

"Uh! Uh! Uh!" Baubo grunted each time Aegina's hips slammed into her, rattling her teeth and filling her chin-cunt. As the Amazon fucked her still faster and harder, the individual groans became one, long, undulating cry: "Uhhhhhhhhh!" The sound was fuel to the fire of Aegina's lust, enflaming her passion, and the woman warrior lunged and plunged her erect clitoris into Baubo's face as if her organ were a sword and she were slaying an adversary on a field of battle rather than merely fucking a lover in her own bed.

"Fuck me!" Baubo managed to gasp, gritting her teeth as her lover drove her clitoris again and again into her chin-pussy with ever-increasing rapidity and force.

The Amazon honored her request, her hips becoming a blur of motion as she rammed them fast and furiously against Baubo's facial loins. A sheen of sweat shone upon the muscular woman's body, and drops of her perspiration fell from her lower abdomen, onto Baubo's impaled face, a sprinkle of salty fluid that stung the goddess' eyes. Above her, the Amazon had begun to grunt and groan with the effort of fucking her guest, and her cries joined Baubo's moans and groans, the two women creating a chorus of impassioned whimpers and grunts, a melody of sexual bliss, a symphony of fervent squeals. Were any to have heard the two lovers, their cries of ecstasy might have been mistaken for the sounds of agony, and, swords drawn, Aegina's fellow warriors might have sprung through the windows and doors, ready to defend their sister, but, fortunately, her sisters had heard such sounds more than enough times to know their significance and, indeed, several of them masturbated to these songs of ignited lust, adding their own cries to the din as, at home, in their own beds, they writhed and wriggled, wetting themselves. At times, it seemed that all of Themiscyra--indeed, all of Pontus--was but one great singing group, lifting their voices in the same hymn to Hymen.

The thought that her fellow Amazons might be masturbating to the sounds of her making love to Baubo excited Aegina even further, and she drove her clit-cock even more forcefully into the miniature goddess' chin-cunt, actually shoving the deity's entire body--what there was of it--half a foot up the mattress, her organ sliding free of the drenched pussy. Grasping Baubo's ankles, Aegina drew her guest toward her, this time adjusting her own position so that, when she slid her clitoris forward, it entered the goddess' mouth rather than her pussy. Involuntarily, Baubo's soft, full lips closed in a tight circle around the rigid bud, and Aegina fucked her with short, quick strokes. At moments like this, Aegina wished that she were a detested and disgusting male, for she would like, at least one time, to end her rapture with a quaking flood of thick, warm seed rather than gushes of cunt-lubricating juices. As it was, she hadn't long to lament her inability to ejaculate, for, abruptly, orgasm seized and shook her, roughly and thoroughly, wringing from her heart and soul, as from her cunt, all that was within her, both of passion, lust, and pussy juices. Legs quaking, asshole fluttering, breasts swaying, heart hammering, pulse racing, she released a bucket-size flood of thick, warm juices from her cunt, flooding Baubo's face with her most intimate fluids.

Baubo gasped as she felt the deluge wash over her brow, her cheeks, her nose, her lips, her chin-cunt, and her inner thighs. Much of the wash of fluids entered Baubo's mouth. Rather than retching or gagging, rather than blowing or spitting, the goddess swallowed the rich nectar, honored by the offering from the mighty Amazon's loins.

Having delivered her gift to the goddess, Aegina rolled to the side and lay on her back, drenched in her own juices. Her heart continued to hammer, and her lungs heaved as she fought for her breath. She was still all atremble, and her pulse yet raced, the blood pounding inside her veins. Her clitoris remained rigid and swollen, despite her having reached orgasm.

Armless, Baubo struggled to rise. She rolled onto her stomach--which is to say, her face--and got her knees under herself, so that she was kneeling with the top of her head upon the mattress. With a determined effort, thanks to her well-exercised, superbly conditioned abdominal muscles, she was able to lift her belly-face from the bed. Now, on her knees, her belly-face upright at last, she hobbled the short distance to Aegina's supine body, managed to straddle the Amazon's nearer thigh, and faced the altar of the warrior woman's saturated pussy. While the sweating, trembling Amazon recovered her strength, Baubo studied the manly woman's cunt up close. Baubo had been face-to-face, so to speak, with hundreds, if not thousands, of pussies, but she never tired of the sight of a moist, pink cunt. The uninitiated--or the stupid--might suppose that, having seen one vagina, one had seen them all, but the true aficionado knew, as Baubo knew, that, despite basic similarities, no two cunts were alike any more than any two pricks were the same. There was as much variety in the beauty of pussies as there was in a garden of a hundred thousand flowers. Like the bee, Baubo had, for millennia, flitted from one such flower to the next, but all eternity could not afford her time enough to sample all the lovely labia, cute clitorises, and pulchritudinous pussies, to say nothing of the beautiful breasts and buttocks that the gods had fashioned like fine jewelry throughout the countless years of their reign.

Aegina's cunt was as beautiful as Baubo had suspected. Shaped like the slit in a conch shell, the pink flesh within was as satin-soft and lovely as the pink petals of a dewy rose, and the clitoris with which the Amazon had fucked the goddess, still stiff and swollen, was as glorious as the bud of the same flower. Baubo wished, as she did on occasions such as this, when an exceptionally lovely cunt stared her in the face, as it were, that she had a penis that she could thrust between the gorgeous lips, far into the succulent depths of the liquid, feminine center. She was especially aroused by the masculinity of the Amazon. Although, without question, Aegina was clearly a woman, she had many of the attributes of the male. The combination of masculine and feminine characteristics was erotic in the extreme, and Baubo's own pussy continued to gush, streaming her own juices, like drool, over her chin. Were she to study Aegina's pussy forever, it wouldn't be long enough to appreciate fully its tremendous beauty.

Zeus had made men for men as well as for women, and he'd created women for women as well as for men. Although Baubo would have thought that, even for mortals, the intention of the gods' father should be clear enough, apparently it was not, for some men regarded it as an abomination to lie with another man as with a woman, and some women held the same absurd view with regard to the sleeping of women with other women. To teach them the error of their ways and to show them that it was his will that men should be the lovers of other men as well as the lovers of women, he himself had taken the form of a swan to mate with Leda and the form of an eagle to have sex with Ganymede. Indeed, he had borne the youth home with him to Mount Olympus to serve as the gods' cup-bearer and, of course, to be one of Zeus' own paramours. Why should not both men and women serve the lusts of one another, regardless of gender? Baubo could not understand why something so clear to her was beyond some mortals, for, although they could be quite stupid. Even an imbecile should be able to understand the lesson that Zeus' abduction of Ganymede had taught. Besides, other gods and goddesses had taught the same lesson. Hercules had had many male lovers, just as Aphrodite had bedded many another goddess and even a few mortal females. Baubo herself, although a lesser deity, had also made both sexes her lovers, just as, today, she was in bed with this Amazon.

"Baubo," Aegina whispered. "I need you."

The calling of her name awakened the goddess from her reverie. Baubo wriggled, driving herself forward, closing the slight distance between her face and the Amazon's moist, pink pussy. Although she was more than merely short of stature, Baubo had been blessed with an exceedingly long tongue, probably as a result of Zeus' ironic sense of humor. She had put her tongue to good use many times; she intended to do likewise now. She snaked out the fleshly appendage, licking the full, sensuous lips of Aegina's labia. Dewdrops of the Amazon's honeyed juices brushed her lips as Baubo slid her tongue farther into the woman warrior's sweet chamber. A rush of fluid welled within the tongue-impaled cunt, and Baubo lapped it up, swallowing the warm nectar.

Aegina moaned, rocking the cradle of her hips. Her hands gripped Baubo's luxuriant tresses, drawing the goddess' oversize belly-head toward her. "Uh!" the Amazon grunted as Baubo, her face pressed firmly against the warrior woman's sleek, soft pubic mound, thrashed her tongue inside Aegina's liquid cunt. "Uh! Fuck me with your mouth!"

Baubo stiffened her tongue, using it as a improvised cock. The muscle slid past the drenched and tremulous walls of Aegina's cunt, retreated, and thrust home again, rapidly. Aegina's thighs quaked, just as the inside of her pussy quivered. Vaginal fluids streamed from the Amazon's flooded cunt, wetting the mattress beneath her writhing hips. Aegina's fists tightened in Baubo's hair, but the goddess was too caught up in her own lust to feel more than a mildly annoying, slightly painful, very insistent twisting-tugging sensation. Another wave of intense pleasure shot through the Amazon, and she groaned. Aegina had had many lovers, but, even without arms or hands, to say nothing of breasts, Baubo was far more accomplished than any of them. Lubricating fluids gushed inside Aegina's cunt. A wild notion occurred to the Amazon: maybe she would drown in her own pussy juices!

Abruptly, Baubo withdrew her tongue.

"Don't stop!" Aegina protested. "By the gods, don't stop!"

"I want to finish you from behind," the goddess declared.

Driven half out of her mind with lust, Aegina's thoughts were muddled. "Finish me from behind?" she repeated.

"Roll over," Baubo directed her.

Aegina frowned. She wanted the sweet, intense release of orgasm.

"On your stomach," Baubo instructed.

Reluctantly, Aegina obeyed.

Baubo was still between the Amazon's thighs, but now the goddess faced Aegina's beautiful buttocks as well as her cunt.

The Amazon had one of the finest asses Baubo had ever seen--and the goddess had seen plenty. Aegina's buttocks were flawless, as smooth as porcelain, but, of course, warm and supple. Baubo studied the beautiful spheres, her eyes sweeping over the slopes, along the deep cleavage between the sleek cheeks, to rest upon the puckered anus above the crescent cunt between the warrior woman's satiny thighs. The weight of Aegina's buttocks seemed to settle in their lower halves and, by rounding her hips and her haunches, imparted to her form a perfect guitar shape. The burly Amazon's ass was so gorgeous that its beauty pierced Baubo's heart. Paradoxically, there was something sad about such loveliness--perhaps, as some of the poets among the mortals claimed, it was because of Baubo's recognition that this particular instance of beauty must be transitory, that it, like Aegina herself, must succumb to death and decay. Beauty should be eternal, Baubo thought, but, among mortals--even among those as lovely as the magnificent Aegina--it was not; hence, the sadness that loveliness imparted in its contemplation.

Baubo sighed. The great beauty of Aegina's magnificent ass might be destined to fade, but, at the moment, it was present in all its glory, and the goddess meant to enjoy the Amazon's loveliness. Baubo's extraordinary tongue slid from between her lips, entered the deep chasm between the warm cushions of the Amazon's buttocks, and flicked lightly at her hostess' wrinkled asshole.

"Oh!' Aegina gasped, surprised to feel her guest's soft, moist tongue upon her anus instead of her labia.

Baubo smiled, licking the tight ring of muscle more forcibly. Aegina's butt hole glistened with Baubo's saliva. Stiffening her tongue, Baubo jabbed at the woman warrior's anus, in quick, short strokes. Again, the Amazon gasped. Her asshole fluttered between Aegina's flexing buttocks. Once again, Baubo wished she had arms and hands, for she'd very much like to have been able to leave pink--or even purple--palm prints upon the Amazon's ample bottom, spanking her as she licked and kissed and sucked her ass.

Baubo stuck her nose, mouth, and chin between Aegina's buttocks. The juices from her pussy-chin smeared against the inward-curving slopes of Aegina's buttocks, and Baubo's nose slid up, parting the deep furrow between the creamy globes of the Amazon's ass as the goddess pressed her pursed lips firmly against the warrior woman's anus, kissing it. Aegina squirmed, her own cunt awash in her fluids. Some of the warm liquid anointed the goddess's face, chin-cunt, and thighs. Baubo stuck the tip of her stiffened tongue directly into the Amazon's anal opening, furiously wriggling the wet, fleshly appendage. Aegina yelped.

Baubo shoved several inches of her exceptionally long tongue through Aegina's anus, feeling the smooth, tight ring of the Amazon's sphincter widen to admit her. Her tongue impaling her hostess' asshole, Baubo flapped and waved the fleshly appendage, feeling the walls of the warrior woman's rectum slide, soft and smooth as the inner cheeks of Aegina's mouth--or cunt--past her own soft, wet tongue. Aegina shivered, her asshole fluttering, and her buttocks clamped tightly together before flexing rapidly. Her thighs quaked, too, and a stream of thick fluid gushed from the Amazon's cunt. The warrior woman whimpered, then moaned, then howled as wave after tidal wave of passion swept through her. A flood of pussy juice cascaded down the goddess' face, and Baubo licked frantically at the stream, swallowing as she lapped up the warm nectar. Baubo had meant to bring Aegina to orgasm by resuming her performance of cunnilingus on the Amazon, but the goddess' hostess had reached the point of no return as a result of Baubo's licking and probing her anus with her tongue. Philosophically, Baubo shrugged, smiling. It didn't really matter how Aegina reached ecstasy as long as she had.




Baubo Ch. 06



Willow reclined on the bed in her motel room. Using magic, she'd transformed herself into a psychic voyeur. Alternating her consciousness between Buffy and the goddess, demon, or whatever-the-hell Baubo was, the witch was able to monitor both the Slayer and the diminutive female that the Kekk demon had brought out of the crumbling demon dimension that Buffy had destroyed when she'd gone there to rescue Willow. Now, as Willow watched them, sometimes entering their minds to experience their thoughts and feelings, the witch masturbated, twiddling her stiff, swollen clitoris with her fingertips. Her cunt moistened. She flicked her throbbing clit faster, occasionally inserting a finger into the damp cleft of her sex. Her breathing quickened. Her heartbeat accelerated. Her pulse raced. She bit her lower lip.

Buffy, in Willow's shower, naked and wet, the spraying water glistening on her shining skin, was as lovely as ever. Willow wished her best friend had allowed her to stay with her. Willow would have liked to wash Buffy's back. The witch would have liked to wash the Slayer's breasts and buttocks, too. As she imagined herself performing these actions, Willow could all but actually feel the smooth, soapy mounds of Buffy's boobs and ass cheeks under her caressing hands and kneading fingers.

Willow would have loved to cup the sleek, fleshly hillocks in her hands, watching her long nails indent the smooth, satin-soft flesh. The witch would have loved to run her wet hands over the Slayer's lean flanks. Willow would have loved to rub the wet washcloth over Buffy's downy pubes and along and between her friend's labia.

Willow was hungry for Buffy; the witch was ravenous with the need to lick the Slayer's cunt and taste the warm, thick nectar of her pussy. The water continued to shower upon Buffy's slight frame, sluicing down her wet tits, belly, pubes, and thighs, and streaming along her spine and over her buttocks. Buffy turned this way and that, the better to expose her nakedness to the cascading water.

Willow's finger quickened, flicking, rubbing, and teasing her erect clitoris. The witch moaned.

It was fun watching Buffy, especially when the Slayer was unaware that she was being watched, but it was even more fun to experience the thoughts and feelings of the person--almost always another woman--whom Willow spied upon psychically. However, as Willow had learned long ago, were Buffy's mind to have been represented as an animal, the Slayer's psyche would have to be portrayed as a turtle. Her thoughts were more than merely veiled; they were armored. Her mind was impenetrable. Willow, try as she may--and she'd tried plenty--was never able to read Buffy's thoughts for long. The most the witch had been able to discern were flashes of her friend's views and feelings. In the past, these brief glimpses at the contents of the Slayer's mind had been mostly snapshots, as it were, of Buffy's adrenaline-charged fear, rage, or triumph; Willow had rarely been rewarded with a peek, as it were, at anything like lust or orgasm. There was no doubt about it, the witch thought, Buffy's thoughts and feelings were far more about violence than they were about sex.

As Willow sifted Buffy's consciousness, the witch gleaned no images of pricks, balls, or men's asses, nor did she see splatters of semen. Willow saw no tits or women's asses, either, or a single cunt, closed or gaping. After a while, Willow became bored watching Buffy bathe herself. Despite the big-eyed blonde's gorgeous figure, Buffy's nakedness was not, of itself, sufficient to engage the lesbian Wicca woman. Willow's thoughts settled upon the curious creature that called herself Baubo. Now, here was a creature who thought about little else but pricks, balls, men's asses, splatters of semen, tits, women's asses, labia, and cunts.

Although Baubo roamed the familiar streets of Sunnydale, the headless, armless female also hiked among the green hills and strolled the cobblestone streets of ancient Greece, a sense of longing in her heart that Willow soon recognized as homesickness. The lonely Baubo apparently had lived in Greece, millennia ago, and, as she wandered the streets of Willow's and Buffy's hometown, Baubo remembered scenes from her own motherland. The images in Baubo's mind shifted and changed. Before long, Baubo was in the company of another woman who was as larger than life as Baubo herself was smaller. Whereas Baubo was only two and a half feet tall, her companion was over six feet in height--and downright brawny! The statuesque woman had broad shoulders, six-pack abs, sinewy legs, and muscular thighs, like those of a male bodybuilder. However, her beautiful, feminine face, like her small, but womanly tits and her firm, tight-lipped cunt, left no doubt that she was a woman. As Willow continued to eavesdrop, keeping Baubo and her companion under watch, the witch soon learned that the larger-than-life woman was a true Amazon--one of the fabled female warriors about whom myths and legends boasted as fiercer and deadlier than men. It had taken no less a specimen of masculinity than Hercules to defeat the Amazon's queen. Baubo's tall, powerfully built female companion's name, Willow further learned, was Aegina. 

Willow watched Baubo and Aegina make wild, passionate love, entering their minds to taste their lust and passion as she continued to stroke and finger her own now-soaked pussy. She gasped, her thighs quivering. She was close to orgasm. Watching two women--even when one was only half a woman, like Baubo--was always exciting, especially when she observe them secretly, from afar. At the same time, although she might be miles away, Willow was no farther than the minds of the women whom, in her own way, she haunted. Being a psychic voyeur was astonishingly sexy. It was definitely one of the finer spells that she and Tara had conceived.

Baubo was between the Amazon's thighs, facing Aegina's beautiful buttocks and magnificent cunt.

The Amazon had one of the finest asses Baubo had ever seen. Aegina's flawless buttocks were as smooth as porcelain, but warm and supple. Baubo studied the beautiful spheres, her eyes sweeping over the slopes and along the deep cleavage between the sleek cheeks, to rest upon the puckered anus above the crescent cunt between the warrior woman's satiny thighs. The weight of Aegina's buttocks seemed to settle in their lower halves and, by rounding her hips and her haunches, imparted to her form a perfect guitar shape. The burly Amazon's ass was so gorgeous that its beauty pierced Baubo's heart. Paradoxically, there was something sad about such loveliness--perhaps, as some of the poets among the mortals claimed, it was because of Baubo's recognition that this particular instance of beauty must be transitory, that it, like Aegina herself, must succumb to death and decay. Beauty should be eternal, Baubo thought, but, among mortals--even among those as lovely as the magnificent Aegina--it was not; hence, the sadness that loveliness imparted in its contemplation.

Willow's hand cupped the cleft mound of her sex, her curled forefinger stroking the hard bud of the swollen clit at the top of her liquid cunt. She moaned, her thighs making quick scissoring movements. Baubo's view of Aegina's ass was magnificent, and the tiny goddess' thoughts and feelings about the smooth, round mounds were sexier than hell. Even if she weren't masturbating, Willow's clitoris would be erect with lust. As it was, seeing through Baubo's eyes and thinking with Baubo's mind, Willow would be rocked with ecstasy within moments, and her cunt juices would be streaming over her trembling thighs.

Baubo sighed. The great beauty of Aegina's magnificent ass might be destined to fade, but, at the moment, it was present in all its glory, and the goddess meant to enjoy the Amazon's loveliness. Baubo's extraordinarily long tongue slid from between her lips, entered the deep chasm between the warm cushions of the Amazon's buttocks, and flicked lightly at her hostess' wrinkled asshole.

Willow groaned. Her finger slid back and forth within the slick, wet cleft of her sex.

Baubo licked the tight ring of Aegina's butt hole. Stiffening her tongue, Baubo jabbed at the woman warrior's anus, in quick, short strokes. Again, the Amazon gasped. Her asshole fluttered between Aegina's flexing buttocks. Baubo wished she had arms and hands, for she'd very much like to have been able to leave pink--or even purple--palm prints upon the Amazon's ample bottom, spanking her as she licked and kissed and sucked her ass.

Buffy's hand scrubbed at her cunt through the wet washcloth. Soap lathered the narrow chasm between her legs. The Slayer felt unclean. Dirty. Contaminated. She needed to scour herself. Her hand scrubbed harder. Even if she rubbed herself raw, she had to cleanse her flesh from--from--she was disturbed to find that she could not remember what seemed to have tainted her. She knew only that she had to wash away whatever it was that had besmirched her body and polluted her soul. She rubbed the washcloth with renewed vigor, desperate to get the foul filth, whatever it was, off her. She had to--

Willow shoved the images, thoughts, and feelings of her friend from her mind, concentrating, instead, upon the activities, emotions, and sensations that Baubo felt in her memory of the lovemaking in which she'd participated with the Amazon warrior. Buffy was beautiful, no doubt about that, but even the big-eyed blonde couldn't compare with the hot lesbian sex that Baubo was recalling, not when Buffy was doing nothing more than showering and thinking about how unclean she felt.

Baubo stuck her nose, mouth, and chin between Aegina's buttocks. The juices from her pussy-chin smeared against the inward-curving slopes of Aegina's buttocks, and Baubo's nose slid up, parting the deep furrow between the creamy globes of the Amazon's ass as the goddess pressed her pursed lips firmly against the warrior woman's anus, kissing it. Aegina squirmed, her own cunt awash in her fluids. Some of the warm liquid anointed the goddess's face, chin-cunt, and thighs. Baubo stuck the tip of her stiffened tongue directly into the Amazon's anal opening, furiously wriggling the wet, fleshly appendage. Aegina yelped.

Buffy scrubbed harder at her cunt, at her asshole, at her tits, desperate to feel clean again. The soapy water became tinged with pink. Buffy had more than exfoliated; she'd rubbed away the outermost layer of her skin, and blood oozed and welled within the white lather. Still, she felt infected, tainted, polluted; she'd never be clean again, she thought in despair, not if she scrubbed and washed and scoured her flesh forever--

Again, Willow focused on Baubo's thoughts and feelings, ignoring Buffy's despairing thoughts.

Baubo shoved several inches of her exceptionally long tongue through Aegina's anus, feeling the smooth, tight ring of the Amazon's sphincter widen to admit her. Her tongue impaling her hostess' asshole, Baubo flapped and waved the fleshly appendage, feeling the walls of the warrior woman's rectum slide, soft and smooth as the inner cheeks of Aegina's mouth--or cunt--past her own soft, wet tongue. Aegina shivered, her asshole fluttering, and her buttocks clamped tightly together before flexing rapidly. Her thighs quaked, too, and a stream of thick fluid gushed from the Amazon's cunt. The warrior woman whimpered, then moaned, then howled as wave after tidal wave of passion swept through her. A flood of pussy juice cascaded down the goddess' face, and Baubo licked frantically at the stream, swallowing as she lapped up the warm nectar. Baubo had meant to bring Aegina to orgasm by resuming her performance of cunnilingus on the Amazon, but the goddess' hostess had reached the point of no return as a result of Baubo's licking and probing her anus with her tongue. Philosophically, Baubo shrugged, smiling. It didn't really matter how Aegina had reached ecstasy as long as she had.

Willow's whirling, twirling fingers swirled about her clitoris. The hard, thick bud of flesh throbbed. The witch plunged her fingers into the wet maw of her liquid cunt. "Oooh!" she cried. Orgasm seized her, and she was carried away on the flood of her passion. Her anus fluttered, her thighs quaked, and her heart pounded; her cunt was a river. She gasped, closing her eyes, and panted between wrenching moans and loud groans that one might well have mistaken for the sounds not of passion, but of agony. Squirming, she continued to toy with and to tickle her lust-enflamed clitoris, the warm, thick juices of her cunt drenching her blankets, sheets, and mattress.

It was at this moment, while Willow was in the throes of ecstasy, that Buffy entered the bedroom, stepping across the threshold of the bathroom that opened onto the motel's bedroom. Her eyes widened as she saw her friend masturbating with abandon. "Willow," she said, not knowing what else to say.

Willow opened her long-lashed, anime-wide eyes. She had a glazed look. She seemed confused. "Buffy?" she asked, her voice tremulous. It was almost as if the witch didn't know where she was or who Buffy was or how the Slayer had come to be here, in her bedroom, wearing a fluffy white terrycloth bath towel.

At first, hearing her friend moaning. the Slayer had feared that the redheaded witch was in pain. "Willow?" Buffy called, concerned. "Are you all right?"

Her friend gave her a dreamy, faraway look. She grinned. "I'm fine--now."

Buffy saw Willow's hand, cupping the mound of her sex, her finger inserted into her cunt, the wet, disheveled blankets beneath the witch's drenched thighs and buttocks. Realization dawned on her, and Buffy frowned. No wonder Willow had had trouble recognizing her; the witch had just had a tremendously powerful orgasm from the looks of things. "Of all the times to masturbate!" she chided.

Willow's wide grin widened further. Her eyes were full of mischief. "Sorry," she said, but her tone was anything but.

Buffy shook her head, rolling her eyes. "Now that I'm through with the shower, maybe you should use it."

Willow chuckled. "A warm stream of water, in the right place, can do wonders for a girl."

"I was thinking more along the lines of a cold shower," Buffy returned. "In your case, maybe an ice-cold shower."

Willow rose from her bed. She approached Buffy, who eyed her warily. As Buffy had requested, Willow had erased all of the Slayer's memories of the horrible demon dimension from which they'd returned after having been ravaged every way possible by unspeakable demons. Nevertheless, the way that Buffy had scoured the flesh from her body and the way that she eyed her best friend cautiously, even suspiciously, made the witch realize that, on an unconscious level deeper even than Willow's magic, Buffy yet possessed some remnant of remembrance of these past incidents, no matter how vague and shadowy they might be. It was these vague recollections--or intimations--that had made Buffy feel unclean in the shower. At her side, Willow leaned forward and kissed her friend chastely upon the cheek.

Surprised, Buffy blinked, smiling uncertainly. "What was that about?"

"Friendship."

Buffy's smile widened. "Thanks."

"I love you, Buffy."

Buffy arched an eyebrow.

"Not in a lesbian kind of way," she clarified. "In a friendship kind of way."

"I love you, too, Will."

Willow grinned, the familiar mischief back in her wide eyes. "Well, maybe in an unrequited lesbian kind of way."

"Go," Buffy ordered. "Take your shower."

"All right, all right. Geesh!"

"A cold shower."

On her way into the bathroom, Willow thought of Baubo. Despite her ancient age and never-changing, youthful beauty, the petite goddess had, even in the throes of ecstasy, emanated a deep and abiding sense of loneliness and sorrow. In her ages-long lifetime, she might have had sex with men, women, and sexes and genders undreamed of among mortals, but Baubo remained, at heart, a lonely and neglected deity. Well, maybe Willow could do something about Baubo's unfortunate plight. Maybe she could provide her with a companion--a consort of sorts--who was the masculine counterpart to herself. Andrew, one of the three bastards who'd been responsible for the death of the love of Willow's life, her fellow witch and girlfriend, Tara, would make a fine--well, at least, an acceptable--husband for the goddess.

As she undressed, Willow imagined Andrew reduced to a pair of legs, twin buttocks, a cock, and a set of balls, with his face a part of his belly, headless and armless, and of a height no greater than three feet. By the time she stepped beneath the hot, hissing shower and the steam had begun to rise and billow about her naked body, Willow had made up her mind to effect Andrew's transformation. She'd make him a Humpty Dumpty-like caricature of a man, consisting of a male's lower body with a face in his belly and a cock and balls dangling from his chin.

In the shower, Willow began to sing.

. . . to be continued. . . 



Baubo Ch. 07



The hot, steaming water sluiced between Willow's tiny breasts, down her concave belly, and through her trim red bush. She circled the soapy washcloth over her bare flesh and scrubbed her labia and the inside of her cunt. Reaching behind herself, she bathed her buttocks, washing between the smooth, gleaming mounds of her ass cheeks. She rubbed the washcloth against her firm, sleek thighs. Then, she rinsed herself under the slanting needles of water until she'd washed away the foamy suds.

Willow hadn't taken a cold shower, as Buffy had suggested. She was taking a long, hot one. She wasn't horny after masturbating herself from one climax to the next as, using her magic powers, she'd visited first Buffy's mind, as the Slayer had taken her shower, a few minutes earlier, and then Baubo's mind, as the goddess had recalled her sexual tryst with the Amazon warrior named Aegina, experiencing their thoughts and feelings. Buffy's thoughts, as always, were indistinct and guarded, but Baubo's had been as clear and easy to see as pornographic movie clips. Baubo's recollections of having had oral sex with the woman warrior had given the witch plenty to which to masturbate. Willow had experienced one wild orgasm after another, flooding her blankets, sheets, and mattress with her overflowing cunt juices.

While she'd watched Baubo as she made love, in her memory, to Aegina, Willow had conceived of the perfect punishment for Andrew, the science nerd who, with Jonathan and Warren, had been responsible for Tara's death. Willow remembered the fatal moment of her girlfriend's death as vividly as if the terrible event were transpiring before her again this moment. One instant, Tara had been standing in front of Willow; the next, a red spot had appeared upon--or in--Tara's breast, and her blood had splattered over Willow. Then, Tara had fallen; by the time her body hit the floor, she was dead.

Willow had hunted Warren down and stripped the flesh from his body, literally skinning him alive. She'd have done the same to Andrew, but Buffy and Xander had stopped her before she'd had the chance. Every moment since Willow had watched her lover die, the witch had sworn to avenge Tara's death. Willow had thought of flaying Andrew alive, as she had Warren, but transforming the bastard into a companion for Baubo was better by far.

Baubo was a Humpty Dumpty-like female. Two and a half feet tall, she had long, shapely legs; smooth, compact buttocks; and a face in her belly. Her large eyes were framed with mascara, and her cunt was a cleft in her chin. She had neither head, neck, nor arms and hands. To be her opposite, Andrew would have to lose his head, too--and his arms and hands. He'd keep his legs and ass, as Baubo had, and his face would be in his belly. Instead of a cunt in his face, Andrew's cock and balls would dangle from his chin. For the rest of his days, Andrew would suffer the horror and degradation of being less than a man. He'd be a true freak with no one else in the world like him except his female counterpart. Willow giggled as she imagined Andrew in his transformed state--with an erection! How absurd the bastard would look with his cock projecting out, stiff and straight, from his chin or standing upright against his belly-face, his balls dangling below. This opportunity was too wonderful to resist. It would be far more fitting a punishment than flaying Andrew alive.

Stepping out of the shower, she dried herself with a towel before pulling on the same pair of jeans, the same simple top, and the same sandals she'd worn into the bathroom. There was neither bra nor panties to don; she'd dispensed with wearing undergarments when she'd become Tara's lover. Underwear had seemed unnecessary to the lesbian couple. They'd preferred one another as close to naked as possible. Simply by removing their blouses and shorts, slacks, jeans, or skirts and kicking off their shoes, they could be naked for one another anytime and anyplace. They could, that is, while Tara had still been alive--before Andrew, Jonathan, and Warren had killed her.

Warren had killed Jonathan in some blood ritual, and Willow had killed Warren--after flaying him alive. Of the three, only Andrew had escaped. Willow intended to make him suffer, too, and soon. Before long, he would be a male version of the headless, armless Baubo, his face in his belly, and his cock and balls dangling from his chin.

Making sure the door was unlocked in case Buffy needed to use the bathroom before she returned, Willow placed her fingertips on either temple and, imagining herself elsewhere, vanished in a flash of light from her motel room. When she reappeared, she was on a street in Sunnydale. Somewhere nearby, Baubo would be wandering the same street, no doubt keeping to the shadows, shrubbery, and other cover as she made her way through what was, to the ancient Greek goddess, a strange and, no doubt, terrifying world.

It wasn't Baubo that the witch sought, however; it was Andrew. He was out here, somewhere, and Willow would find him. When she did, he'd rue the day he'd participated in Tara's murder.

As she continued to roam the streets of this strange world, Baubo's thoughts were miles--and centuries--away as she recalled the time she'd spent with one of the most bizarre lovers the goddess had ever had--the lamia.

After leaving Aegina's domicile in Themiscyra, Baubo departed Pontus, and, after a few days' travel, came again into the hills and fields of her homeland. Greece had never looked so good, she thought. She enjoyed traveling, but, even more, she enjoyed the return to the dear, familiar world of her origin. She had sojourned long among the mountains, the islands, the rivers, and the seas that made up her country, traveling from Dodoni and Acheron, northwest of the Pindos Mountain Range, to Thermopyles, Delti, Thebes, and Platees in the north central region, to Cape Artemisio and Evia in the northeast. She had been to Marathon, Eletsina, Athens, Salamis, Sounio, Korinthos, Mycenae, Argos, Natplio, Epidavros, Poros, Hydra, Spetses, Sparta, Patra, and, of course, Olympia. She had been to a hundred other city-states, towns, and villages as well. Despite her journeys, she never tired of the beauty of the Grecian mainland or the glory of its many islands. The loveliness of the countryside, like that of the sea, continued to amaze and astound her.

Baubo loved the coliseum, the Parthenon, the aqueducts, the villas of Pompeii and Herculaneum, Plato's Academy, the agora of Athens, the baths and fountains and pools, the law courts and the stoas, the temples and the altars, the Bouleuterion, the walls and crypts, the statues, and all the other wonders of the cities. She also loved the deep blue seas and the steep cliffs and mountainsides that rose, majestically, above the seas, lost in the hazy clouds of heaven. Often, she hiked the rough, stone-strewn hillsides, climbing hundreds of feet above the level of the sea, and peered through columns of stone or stands of cypress, over the islands that stretched southward into the blue deeps. The sight always took her breath away. There was no place on earth, not even Mount Olympus, she believed, as beautiful as the coast viewed from such a height.

It was as she was wending her way down from a narrow trail that wound along a ridge that she encountered the lamia--or, rather, the remarkable creature encountered her.

Something smooth--something tubular--slid past Baubo's legs, tripping the diminutive deity, and she fell, tumbling down the steep, rocky path. The stones smashed into her, scraping and lacerating her bare flesh. Another smooth coil flashed past the somersaulting goddess, and Baubo slammed hard into the thick, sleek loop, stopping her slide. Glancing behind her, she gasped when she saw the serpent-woman. The coil against which Baubo had collided was part of the lamia's long, serpent body. Half the length of the green-skinned monster was coiled on the ground; the other half, which was mostly snake as well, reared against the sky. The serpent's body blended with the upper thighs of a beautiful woman--or, rather, hermaphrodite--much the way the a siren's fish body merges at the waist of a beautiful woman, scales and fins giving way to smooth flesh.

Beyond the upper thighs, a penis and scrotum-shrouded testicles bobbed and weaved below a firm, flat belly. Above the belly, a pair of full, high, round, womanly breasts swelled, their nipples erect in the centers of their puffy areolas. The creature's curly blonde locks, like rings of yellow fire, hung to its shoulders. The irises of its lidless eyes were green, with vertical, elliptical pupils and, above its slender, barely protruding nose, full, soft lips, the color of coral, parted, revealing a forked serpent's tongue and slender, curved fangs. It was as much a woman as a man, as much a human being as it was a monster.

Suddenly, the human part of its body shot into the air, towering above the startled goddess. The lower part of the serpent-woman's body looped itself around Baubo, before the petite deity could duck or dodge. The coils tightened around her legs, buttocks, and belly-face. She struggled, twisting and turning as best she could in the lamia's serpentine grasp and flexing her thighs and calves as she fought to kick her legs. It was no use, Baubo soon realized. The monster was far too strong. Not only did the hermaphroditic snake-woman restrain her easily, but the monster could also crush her to death within seconds, with no real effort. Baubo relaxed her body, allowing herself to go limp within the firm-soft grasp of the lamia's muscular coils, hoping thus to show that she had surrendered.

A coil loosened, sliding past Baubo's face. The goddess' eyes widened in her belly-face as she saw, mere inches from her own countenance, the visage of the serpent-woman. Looking into Baubo's startled eyes, the monster hissed, "Fear not; I don't intend to hurt you."

"You can speak!" Baubo blurted, shocked.

"Of courssse I can ssspeak," the lamia replied, telling Baubo the story of how she'd become the monster that the goddess beheld. Once a queen of Libya, she had had the misfortune of attracting Zeus with her great beauty. As a result of their assignations, the queen conceived a child, and, in due time, delivered Zeus' offspring, thereby enraging Hera, his wife. To avenge herself, Hera slew the bastard, further punishing the queen by turning her into a snake and refusing to let her close her eyes so that she would always have to look upon her murdered children. However, Zeus took pity upon his lover and granted her the ability to remove (and return) her eyes; the lamia was, in this way, able to find an uneasy peace, although she seldom slept. Nevertheless, the lamia envied other mothers their children and she would steal and devour any whom she could. To punish her for committing infanticide, Hera had transformed her from a snake-woman into a hermaphrodite.

What, Baubo wondered, did the monster want with her? Childless, Baubo had no offspring for the lamia to steal and eat. Baubo didn't have to wait long to learn the answer to her unstated question. The lamia didn't waste time; the snake-woman (or hermaphrodite) made her will known through her actions as something narrow, but firm, wriggled between Baubo's buttocks.

The goddess squirmed, but the coils of the snake-woman's lower body were wound firmly around Baubo's legs, holding her fast, and she could not escape. The smooth, narrow tendril continued to slither between the silken mounds of the goddess' ass, probing the puckered ring of her anus. It was amazing, Baubo thought, how the fleshly stalk of the lamia's tail--for Baubo realized that this is what the tendril must be--was so dexterous and agile. It flicked her asshole with greater dexterity than any fingertip that had ever stroked or tickled her there. The appendage was wonderfully soft and supple, but, at the same time, it could stiffen, dart, and probe as if it were a stick rather than a tentacle-like appendage.

The monster's tail became erect, and it shoved firmly against Baubo's anus, penetrating her sphincter and entering her rectum. Inside her bowel, the questing tail wriggled and squirmed. Baubo's chin moistened with the drool of her cunt juices. "Oh!" she exclaimed as more and more of the tail pushed its way into her depths. Like any snake's tail, the appendage tapered, narrowing more and more as it extended farther and farther away from its head--or, in this case, the head of the woman to whose body, from the thighs up, the serpent was joined. However, since the lamia was inserting its tail into Baubo's asshole, the extremity widened, rather than narrowed, as it filled the goddess' nether orifice. At a height of only two and a half feet, Baubo was a tiny woman. Her buttocks were correspondingly small, as was their interior, and the writhing serpent's tail soon stretched her anus to many times its normal size. She was afraid that, should the monster continue to worm its tail up her ass, the thickening appendage might cause severe, even life-threatening, injuries to her. Another inch of the increasingly larger tail slid through Baubo's asshole, and the goddess' discomfort at being crammed full of the monster's tail abruptly intensified, becoming painful. She cried out: "Stop! You're hurting me! I can't take any more of you inside me!"

The tail stopped. The lamia, her face still only inches from Baubo's, stared intently into the goddess' eyes. "Relaxxx," she said, "I promisssed I would not hurt you, and I won't."

"You already are."

A few inches of the tail pulled back through Baubo's anus, and her asshole narrowed. The pain vanished.

"Isss that better?" the lamia asked.

"Yes," Baubo admitted. "Thank you."

"You are a beautiful woman," the monster observed. "I sssaw you hiking the narrow trail that meandersss through the highlandsss, and I followed you."

"Why?"

The serpent-woman smiled. "Why do you think?" Her face drew even nearer to Baubo's, and the goddess felt smooth, full lips upon her own as the lamia kissed her. The monster's forked tongue flickered inside Baubo's mouth, tickling her lips and the roof of the goddess' mouth. The snake-woman's tail descended from Baubo's bowel; a moment later, it slid back into the depths of her ass. Back and forth, in and out, the tail moved, gliding between the sleek mounds of Baubo's buttocks as it fucked her ass. The goddess' anus had relaxed, and Baubo enjoyed the back-and-forth action. Her clitoris stiffened, swelling, and her chin-cunt was awash in its rising juices.

The lamia surprised Baubo again as the coils loosened around her legs. A loop slid between her legs, making a large inverted "U" that, pressing against the goddess' chin-cunt, lifted Baubo into the air. The loop slid back and forth between Baubo's legs, putting a constant, sliding pressure upon her labia and clitoris that delighted Baubo more than she'd ever been thrilled. The sensation was as novel--and erotic--as it was exciting. While the lamia rubbed the sleek, firm coil back and forth against Baubo's chin-cunt, it continued to fuck her in the ass with its tail. The sensations were wild, wonderful, unbearable! A river of cunt juices streamed continuously down Baubo's chin, sluicing down her inner thighs.

The snake-woman withdrew the humped coil between Baubo's legs. Before the disappointed goddess could protest, the lamia had repositioned itself. Now, its cock, as erect as Baubo's clitoris, stood upright before the goddess' face. Baubo grinned. Opening her mouth, she plunged her rounded lips down upon the stiff-standing penis, taking the thick, smooth organ into her mouth. In her ass, the lamia's tail continued to wriggle and writhe, driving the diminutive deity half mad with tremendous excitement.

Baubo' licked and kissed the bloated cock, pausing occasionally to take the snake-woman's balls into her mouth. She pushed her belly-face forward, letting the erection slide between her lips, into her mouth. Then, she backed away, letting the cock slide back through the firm ring of her lips until only the rubbery glans remained within her liquid embrace. Wriggling her belly, she worried the cock as a dog worries a bone. The lamia gasped. The forked tongue sampled the air. Apparently, no other lover had used such a technique on the serpent-woman. She seemed to enjoy it, Baubo noted; she seemed to enjoy it a lot.

The lamia jerked away from Baubo. Startled by the monster's sudden movement, the goddess' eyes widened. Maybe the lamia hadn't liked the sensation of having her cock thrashed back and forth inside Baubo's mouth, after all. But, no, it wasn't shock or fear or rage that had seized the serpent-woman; it was orgasm. Semen erupted from the monster's lurching prick, jetting into the air. A gob splattered Baubo's face. Another blast caught the goddess in the eye, and, too late, she squinted. Her vision obscured by the thick white fluid, Baubo sighed. Why must her male lovers--or, in this case, her hermaphroditic lover--spurt their seed in her eyes?

The tail inside Baubo's ass withdrew. The goddess felt the long appendage pull through her asshole. Inch after inch, the tapering column extracted itself until, at last, the very tip pulled free, tickling Baubo's buttocks as it flailed across her backside.

The serpent-woman gasped, moaning. Its coils loosened, its sinuous body becoming limp. Baubo smiled. She'd had some strange lovers in her time, she thought, but this hermaphroditic snake-woman was one of the most bizarre--and one of the most satisfied, if not one of the most satisfying.

After recovering, the lamia asked, "Where were you bound--before our little asssignation?"

"Nowhere in particular," Baubo admitted.

"If you like, I will give you a ride."

"A ride?"

"I am a woman--or a man-woman--as much as I am a sssnake," the monster pointed out, "and, asss sssuch, I can move fassst. You're welcome to ride me, asss if I were a mount."

Ride a snake? Baubo considered the lamia's offer. It was intriguing, she thought, but she decided against it. "Thanks," she answered, "but I think I'd rather walk. I enjoy hiking. I love Greece, and I've been away a while; I'd like to see the countryside--at a leisurely pace."

"I underssstand. If you ever need me--for any reassson--pleassse remember thisss: I am yoursss."

"I'll remember."

Baubo started on her way. After a few steps, she stopped and turned, facing the lamia. "Thank you," she said.

The lamia smiled.

"I've heard the myths and legends about you," Baubo told the creature. "They differ in some ways, but, in one particular, they all agree."

"In what way do they agree?" the snake-woman asked, obviously curious.

"They say you're a monster."

The lamia said nothing as she considered Baubo's words. "And you?" she asked finally. "What do you sssay?"

"I say they're wrong," the goddess answered. "You're not a monster; you're a creature as lovely as you are unique. I am proud to know you. I'm proud to have been your lover. I'm proud to be your friend."

In Sunnydale, Willow Rosenberg quickened her stride. She had decided to put her plan into effect. She'd find Andrew, the last living puke who'd had a hand in her girlfriend's death. When the witch located him, she'd transform him into a Humpty-Dumpty look-alike, complete with cock and balls dangling from his chin, who, as such, would be the perfect consort for Baubo, the headless, armless woman-thing with the cunt in her chin.

The witch smiled. She couldn't imagine a better, more fitting revenge against the nerd who, along with his now-dead partners, Jonathan and Warren, had taken from her the one and only person she'd ever loved, besides Oz, more than she loved herself or life itself.

Andrew, she promised herself, you are going to wish it had been you, not Tara, who died. Willow--and, the witch was certain, Baubo, too--would see to that.




Baubo Ch. 08



The streets of Sunnydale were quiet. Had Baubo known the history of the town, she'd have understood just how quiet they were. Built by Mayor Wilkins, over a century ago, as a feeding ground for him, it was situated over one of the world's several hellmouths that routinely attracted vampires, demons, and all other manner of monsters. One of these fiends had been the Feral demon whose bite had transformed Buffy into a shemale. The bite might have the same result again, at any time, since this bizarre side effect of the demon's saliva tended to recur without warning.

From what Baubo had gathered, a vengeance demon named Anyanka had dispatched a witch named Willow to the demon dimension ruled by the devil Baphomet. In doing so, Anyanka had intended to avenge herself against a suitor, Xander, who'd jilted her at the altar. Xander, it seemed, was one of Willow's best friends. The big-eyed blonde hermaphrodite, Buffy, who called herself a "vampire slayer," had come to rescue Willow. Eventually, she'd succeeded--after she and Willow, like Baubo, had been abused and humiliated by Baphomet and his minions.

As a result of Buffy's actions, Baphomet's mountain fortress had come crashing down upon them. Baubo, whom Baphomet had imprisoned centuries before to serve as his consort, had escaped certain doom when a teleporting Kekk demon had kidnapped her and jumped into this bizarre world, which, apparently, was home to Buffy, Willow, Xander, and Anyanka.

That was how Baubo had come to be here, wherever "here" was.

It was night, and the diminutive deity could not see more than dark shapes and looming shadows. She passed trees and hedges and shrubs that grew alongside concrete sidewalks and in the front yards of houses set back forty or fifty feet from the streets that paralleled the sidewalks. Occasionally, horseless chariots with huge, fiery eyes roared past. Strange beasts strained at leather leashes or chains held by the men and women who seemed to rule this world. Not once did Baubo see a fellow deity. If there were gods and goddesses in this world, they remained hidden, even to her. Perhaps, as appearances suggested, mortals really did rule in this strange world, as absurd as the idea seemed.

Baubo had left the blonde slayer and the redheaded witch behind, in the witch's abode, which seemed humble for such a powerful sorceress. Many of the domiciles that the goddess passed as she wandered the streets were much larger than the witch's, and these larger edifices stood alone, rather than as one among a row of other, identical homes. Why didn't the witch use her magic to acquire a fortune in silver, gold, and jewels? Baubo had no idea. Over the centuries, she'd learned that witches, like normal mortals, were irrational and could never be counted upon to act in predictable or logical ways. For whatever reason--perhaps for no reason--the witch seemed to prefer her hovel to a palace.

A moment before, Baubo, as a stranger in a strange land, had sought comfort in recalling the familiar incidents of her past. Before she knew it, she slipped into reverie again, remembering the time, long ago, when, exploring an island near the Greek mainland, she'd encountered one of her country's strangest inhabitants. Naturally, in doing so, she'd had sex with it. As a sex goddess, that's what Baubo did, wherever and whenever she had the opportunity.

Hercules had faced the same threat as Baubo encountered when she met the hydra. With regard to the son of Zeus and Hera, however, the hydra hadn't had sex on its mind; it had wanted only to destroy Hercules.

It had wanted to mate with Baubo. Naturally, the sex goddess had allowed it to have its way with her. The sex was some of the most memorable in which she'd ever had the pleasure--and the pain--of being a participant.

It had been the second of Hercules' twelve labors to kill the Lernean hydra, which rose from the muddy swamp waters near Lerna to terrorize the inhabitants of the local countryside. Like others of its kind, this hydra had had a serpent's body and nine heads, and it spewed deadly venom. Of the nine heads, one was immortal. Hercules' nephew--and, according to some rumors, one of his many lovers as well--had accompanied the hero on this adventure, as he did on many other occasions, serving as his uncle's charioteer. Fast by the springs of Amymone, near Lerna, they'd found the hideous monster inhabiting a cave.

To lure the beast from its den, Hercules had shot flaming arrows at it. When it emerged, he'd seized it, but the serpent-like monster had wound a coil around Hercules' foot, preventing him from escaping. Hercules had clubbed first one, and then another, of the many heads, but no sooner had he smashed one than two more would burst erupt as its replacement.

To make matters worse, the hydra had had an ally--a huge crab that repeatedly bit Hercules' trapped foot. However, the crab had been nothing more to the demigod than a painful nuisance, and Hercules had shattered its head with a single blow of his club.

As Hercules clubbed one of the hydra's heads, he directed Iolaus to cauterize the headless tendons of the creature's wounded neck with a burning torch. Having prevented the monster from growing any new heads to replace those he'd crushed, Hercules had destroyed each of the mortal heads. Finally, he'd cut off the ninth, immortal one. Burying the decapitated immortal head beside the road leading from Lerna to Elaeus, Hercules had covered the burial site with a boulder, and, slitting open the creature's body, he'd dipped his arrows in its poisoned blood.

Hercules' uncle, Eurystheus, who'd assigned the twelve labors to the hero as a means of Hercules' atoning for a murder his nephew had committed when he'd been half-mad with grief at Hera's murder of his children, was not impressed with Hercules' feat, contending that, because Iolaus had helped him, this labor should not count as one of the one of the ten labors that Hercules had, at that point, performed. Nevertheless, the killing of the hydra was allowed to stand, and, after this feat, Hercules completed his remaining two labors, stealing the golden apples guarded by the Hesperides and kidnapping the three-headed dog, Cerberus, who guarded the gateway to Hades.

The geographer and historian Pausanias had not been impressed with Hercules' slaying of the hydra any more than Eurystehus had been; in his Description of Greece, he argued, "At the source of the Amymone grows a plane tree, beneath which, they say, the hydra (water-snake) grew. I am ready to believe that this beast was superior in size to other water-snakes, and that its poison had something in it so deadly" that Hercules "treated the points of his arrows with its gall. It had, however, in my opinion, one head, and not several. It was Peisander of Camirus who, in order that the beast might appear more frightful and his poetry might be more remarkable, represented the hydra with its many heads."

The story of how Hercules had bested the Lernean hydra flashed through Baubo's mind in the same instant that she spied the terrible beast as it sprang upon her from the brush beside the steep mountain trail that she was following down to the rugged shore of the Aegean Sea. This hydra was not exactly like the one whom Hercules had slain, however--it was, Baubo thought, if anything, even more horrific. This hydra had more of a dragon's body than one that resembled a serpent's, although the body was equipped with nine heads, each at the end of a snakelike neck. In fact, the purple heads, which were acorn-shaped like the glans of a penis, bore a single vertical slit in lieu of a nose, upon either side of which was a tiny, lidless eye. As far as Baubo could determine, there was no mouth. Behind the head, at the top of the serpent-like neck, were folds of loose flesh, like those in evidence on penises from which, through circumcision, the foreskins had been removed. Had it not been for the tiny eye on either side of the slit of a nose, Baubo would have supposed the neck-head combinations to be what they appeared to be--huge penises.

Baubo had sought to flee from this terrible beast with its nine hideous penis-heads, but the damned thing was fast, and it wound one of his cock-heads around her feet, tripping her. Then, like the monster that had fought with Hercules, it trapped one of her feet with one of its head-penises so that she was unable to escape. The monster lost no time in having its way with the terrified goddess. One of its penis-heads slid between Baubo's buttocks, another insinuated itself within the cleft in her chin that was, in reality, the entrance to her cunt, and a third wormed its way past her lips, gagging her as it struggled to slide down her throat. What, if anything, could the monster see with its cock-heads swallowed, as it were, in the darkness of her innards? Baubo wondered.

Terrified, she fought desperately. At two and a half feet tall, she was much too small to accommodate the huge penis-heads of the hydra. Any one of them would tear her apart or split her wide open. However, the hydra was far stronger than she, and she realized almost at once that she could not resist the creature. This was the way, then, that she would come to an end--torn apart by a lust-crazed monster. Perhaps, upon her demise, Zeus would cast her into heaven, where she'd become a constellation, as he often did with dead deities. She closed her eyes against a flood of tears, hoping that the fierce pain would not be unbearable and that her end would come quickly. Should her fate be discovered, Zeus would punish this monster, Baubo knew, for such was her due as a goddess. However, she was also aware that the death of this creature, although welcome, would not have saved her; she would be just as dead as her attacker. A tear spilled from her eye, trickling down her cheek.

Would that Hercules had been assigned the task, today, of killing this hydra rather than having been assigned the task, in days long gone, of killing its Lernean cousin! Then, Baubo might have lived. Now, she would surely die.

The penis-heads that slid between her buttocks, into her mouth, and into her chin-cunt, adapted their respective circumferences to the sizes of the orifices they encountered, shrinking to fit Baubo's mouth, pussy, and asshole. Astonished, Baubo opened her eyes, staring down at the now-much-smaller prick-head that pumped itself back and forth between her lips. It fit snugly--she could feel it slide over her tongue, beneath the roof of her mouth, and past the walls of her inner cheeks as it poked into the opening of her esophagus--but it was not so large that it caused pain or even discomfort. Breathing through her nose, Baubo was able to accommodate the dickhead's reduced thickness. Her panic subsided. She relaxed. If she were to be ravished by this bizarre beast, she might as well enjoy it, as she had enjoyed making love to the Amazon Aegina and had enjoyed being fucked by the hermaphroditic lamia.

There was nothing the least bit feminine or androgynous about this creature, Baubo knew; it was all masculine. How could it be anything other when it had nine penis-heads? This was a creature that, quite literally, thought, if it thought at all, with the heads of its cocks.

As she was rocked by the prick-head in her mouth, the one in her cunt, and the one in her ass, Baubo began to salivate, drool running down her chin, and to lubricate--her cunt juices mingled with her saliva, wetting her chin and inner thighs. Only her poor asshole was dry. As a result, the friction of the cock-head that shoved through her sphincter and dragged its way back out before plunging into her rectum again was starting to chafe the ring of muscle and the sleek, soft flesh of her impaled buttocks. Baubo squirmed.

Fortunately, the hydra had little stamina. It reached orgasm quickly, its seed spewing into Baubo's mouth, cunt, and ass. The semen was copious, thick, and warm. The sperm that filled her mouth was also salty and a little bitter, but she swallowed it, more as a habit borne of years of experience than as the result of a conscious and deliberate decision.

The monster withdrew its cock-heads, and Baubo felt the thick, round glans slip from her flooded orifices, trail sperm across her lips, cheeks, labia, vulva, thighs, and buttocks. Although the sex had been more rape than anything else, it hadn't been as bad as Baubo had feared. Since the cock-heads had dwindled before entering her, so that they fit her mouth, cunt, and asshole, they'd been neither painful nor hazardous. She'd been filled with the monster's semen, but, at least, she hadn't been ripped or torn or split in half by its members. For her life, she was thankful, and she was grateful that, having satisfied the creature three times over, her ordeal was complete, having ended almost as quickly as it had begun.

Now, if the bastard would get the hell off her foot, she could be on her way to the nearest pool, lake, or river, to wash out her mouth, cunt, and ass, before proceeding on her way.

The hydra had other ideas, as Baubo realized when she felt the next three of its dickheads press at her orifices. She frowned, catching a glimpse of the creature's groin. Three of its necks drooped, sperm oozing from the nostril-slits between their tiny eyes. These cock-heads had been satisfied--but, in their place, two additional cocks had reared their ugly heads--now, instead of nine prick-heads, there were fifteen--the three that drooped, flaccid and satisfied, the six that she had not satisfied, and the three additional pairs that had sprung up to replace the prick-heads that she had satisfied! At this rate, with two erect prick-heads replacing each one that she satisfied, Baubo would never finish pleasing the monster. There would always be more dickheads to fuck. Even worse, the satisfied ones would recover their strength and rear their ugly heads again, demanding satisfaction; in satisfying them, still more pairs of dickheads would spring from the monster's groin. The creature's lack of stamina was more than balanced by its ability to multiply its sex organs. Baubo would be fucked forever by this same horny bastard; for the rest of eternity, she'd have to lend her mouth, cunt, and ass to this monster's lust.

Hercules had had Iolaus to assist him; Baubo had no one. How, then, could she hope to escape from--or kill--this monster?

Another threesome of the creature's prick-heads had entered Baubo, one sliding through her lips, a second through her labia, and a third through her anus. The writhing, squirming organs, having shrunk to the respective sizes of the orifices they filled, began to fuck her mouth, her cunt, and her ass.

Had she had arms, Baubo might take an additional pair of cocks in hand and masturbate them as the other three fucked her, in this way dispatching five instead of three, as it were, but she had no way to grasp the dickheads. As always, except for the counterthrusts of her cunt and ass, Baubo was condemned to play a passive role in sex. She was at this creature's mercy and, she was quite sure, the monster had none. Even if she were able to satisfy five of the cock-heads at a time, rather than three, all she'd accomplish in doing so would be to cause a greater and faster multiplication of the monster's many members! The massive prick-heads had shrunk to fit her, it was true, but the bastard might still end up fucking her to death, her immortality as a goddess notwithstanding.

Semen gushed from the cock-head in Baubo's mouth, and she tasted its salty nectar. It was, its bitterness notwithstanding, as delicious as any she'd ever sampled, but, she had the feeling that, before long, the delicious flavor would become all too vile. In sex, after all, as in all things under the sun, there could be too much of a good thing.

As Baubo walked the streets of Sunnydale, remembering her encounter with the nine cock-headed hydra, Willow Rosenberg also prowled the alleyways and lanes. However, the witch's thoughts were on the here and the now, not on incidents that had happened long ago and far away, for she was a lithe predator seeking an oblivious prey. She'd find Andrew soon enough. It was just a matter of time, whether hours or minutes, before she'd flushed him out into the open, where she could take her revenge, finally, on the last of the trio of nerds who'd killed her girlfriend Tara.

For the first time, Willow knew how Anya felt when the vengeance demon evened the scored for a spurned or jilted woman, how Anya had felt when she'd used Willow herself as a pawn to punish Xander for running out on his marriage to her. It couldn't have been pleasant to have been left at the altar, especially not for Anya. For this reason, Willow had reconsidered foregoing the pleasure of killing Anya for having dispatched her to Baphomet's demon dimension. In fact, the witch had decided to be merciful to the vengeance demon. After all, Willow could understand the need for revenge, for the thought of vengeance was deep and dark and sweet, like chocolate.

Revenge against Andrew would be delicious.

It would be better than chocolate.

. . . to be continued. . . . 



Baubo Ch. 09



Six more cock-heads popped up, two each to replace the ones that had found release inside Baubo's mouth, cunt, and ass. Now, there was a total of twenty one prick-heads protruding from the hydra's trunk. Although its dragon body was broad in the chest and shoulders, it didn't seem possible for it to support many more cock-heads. Of course, Baubo had learned, long ago, that many seemingly impossible things happened all the time. She was one, just as was the monster that, even now, sent three more erect cock-heads into her. Had she not a mirror in which to gaze, she'd never have believed herself to be possible. How could she be, when she had neither head, arms, nor hands, but did have legs, an ass, a face in her belly, and a cunt in her chin? It was impossible, yet she existed, just like the seemingly impossible nine-cock-headed dragon that was able to grow more prick-heads whenever one of the originals returned to its flaccid state following orgasm.

Centaurs were impossible, too, as were minotaurs, satyrs, sirens, lamia, and the host of other creatures that Zeus had either created or, more often, fathered through illicit affairs with mortal women and goddesses. Nevertheless, these and scores of other unlikely, bizarre creatures roamed the mainland and islands of Greece, just as Baubo herself had wandered the green hills and golden fields, the mountains and the beaches, the groves and the valleys of her beloved homeland, seeking, most of the time, sex with a man, another woman, a hermaphrodite, or even one of the creatures that mortals, in their ignorance, supposed merely fanciful rather than real.

The cock in her ass was more than a little uncomfortable. It was actually painful. Unlike her mouth, which lubricated itself with saliva, or her cunt, that wet itself with its internal juices, neither Baubo's rectum nor her anus was equipped with glands that could lubricate themselves, and the friction of the hydra's elongated neck, at the end of which was its combination cock and head, had begun to rub her asshole raw, despite the copious quantities of semen that the prick-heads had spewed inside her bowels, across her buttocks, and upon her gaping anus. The hydra seemed unaware of her predicament or, if it knew, unconcerned. It merely concentrated upon filling Baubo's orifices, fucking her, and unloading its huge store of semen.

The beast pounded her hard. Six times now, it had emptied its seed into or upon the diminutive deity, but it was as intent upon, and as desperate to have, sex with Baubo as it had been the first time it had violated and ravished her. The cock-head inside her asshole shoved itself brutally into her rectum, withdrew a moment, and plunged itself back into her depths with even more savagery. At the same time, the cock-heads in her cunt and mouth fucked her with an intensity that bordered upon violence. Baubo fought for her breath, having been forced to inhale and exhale--when she had the chance--through her nose. Had the hydra been able to shrink its dickheads enough, it would probably have run a pair up her nostrils as well. Fortunately for the goddess, it seemed that there was a limit as to how far the monster could minimize its phallic necks. Another geyser of semen flooded Baubo's bowels, and the cock-head that had penetrated her anus withdrew, trailing sperm in its wake. Then, the prick-head within her sex also launched its molten seed, dwindling and softening as it dropped from her chin-cunt. The phallus-head in her mouth also shot its load and slipped from between her semen-smeared lips. Dutifully, Baubo swallowed the salty seed. So far, the sperm still tasted delicious, but, eventually, she would choke on the sperm, for, after cups and cups of the stuff, even something as full-bodied and flavorful as semen must taste foul and bitter.

The three dickheads that had occupied Baubo's mouth, cunt, and ass shrank and softened, hanging limply from the dragon's torso. However, six erect prick-heads reared themselves in the trio's place. The number of the dragon-beast's cock-heads had just increased from twenty one to twenty seven.

As three more penis-heads entered Baubo, she recalled how Hercules, with Iolaus' help, had bested the Lernean hydra he'd fought. As he'd clubbed the monster's mortal heads with his cudgel, Iolaus had held a lit torch to them, preventing them from giving rise to additional heads. Of course, the Lernean hydra wasn't like the one that had taken an interest in Baubo; instead of dickheads, the Lernean hydra had had the reptilian heads common to dragons. Its necks had been long, but they hadn't ended in acorn-shaped glans with eyes and a vertical slit that did double duty as both the creature's nose and the outlet of its urethra. The hydra that ravished Baubo time after time had phallic necks ending in cock-heads.

Were she to cut off one head or club it to death, would two more pop up to replace it, as they did when she'd satisfied the lust of one of the monster's prick-heads? Even if it did, Baubo had no weapons; she didn't even have arms or hands. She sure as hell couldn't stomp the creature to death, especially with one of its necks coiled around her foot, trapping her. The best she could do, she thought, was to bite off the cock-head that thrust back and forth through her lips. Instead of killing the dickhead, she'd probably only succeed in causing it to grow two replacements--unless the one she bit off was the immortal one!

Baubo thought that she might have chanced upon a valuable idea. The problem was that all the cock-heads looked the same to her. They looked like identical penises, except for the pair of tiny eyes in the dome-shaped tips of the long phallic necks. As she was pounded front and rear, her belly-face jiggled and battered by the endless lunging, plunging phalli-heads, Baubo struggled to study the cock-heads that reared, writhed, dipped, or hung in midair, awaiting their turn to ravish her. Maybe, if she scrutinized them, she'd see a telltale difference, a clue that would enable her to distinguish the mortal dickheads from the single immortal one.

More semen flooded Baubo's mouth. She drank it down in quick gulps. Sperm spewed inside her cunt. Her ass was filled with the hydra's seed. Three cock-heads, satisfied, drooped, hanging limp, the tiny eyes closed in bliss. Abruptly, three more filled Baubo's oral, vaginal, and anal openings, ravishing her. She tasted blood. So many prick-heads had filled her mouth that they'd worn the skin from her lips. No doubt, her sore asshole was bloody, too. It was likely that the thin, tender tissues of her rectum had been rent and torn as well. Possibly the walls of her chin-pussy had also been ripped. She might well bleed to death if she couldn't find a way to escape this lust-crazed monster that was ravishing her non-stop.

Something seemed odd about one of the dickheads. It had reared, writhing past Baubo's face, and, in the instant she'd seen it close up, something seemed amiss about it; it seemed different from the others, but then the flailing cock-head was past her, waving about abovehead. She waited, hoping it might flash past her again or, better yet, swoop low and remain stationary long enough for Baubo to study it and discern how it differed from the others. Was there a difference, or had she merely imagined that there was one, and, if there really was a difference, what did this mean? Was the odd phallus-head the immortal one?

The cocks inside Baubo jostled her, humped her, shoved into her, thrust inside her, crammed and filled and stuffed her. First one, then another, and finally the last of the prick-heads discharged its load inside her and upon her, and, this time, Baubo was disturbed to see, amid the copious white semen, even more profuse a flow of her own blood. She was bleeding from the chin-cunt as well as from the belly-mouth, and, no doubt, she must also be bleeding from the ass. The hydra was, quite literally, fucking her to death!

As more pairs of stiff-standing prick-heads protruded from the dragon's torso, the odd dickhead that Baubo had spied a moment ago swooped low, and she saw what had caught her eye concerning this particular penis-head. Like all the rest, it was situated at the end of a long, thick phallic neck, and it was equipped with a vertical slit, but there were no tiny, lidless eyes in its head! Unlike its counterparts, this head was eyeless. It was blind. As she thought about what significance, if any, this fact might have, a revelation flashed through Baubo's mind. This wasn't a cock-head like the others; it was the hydra's penis. That's why it bore no eyes. It wasn't a head at the end of a snakelike neck; it was a prick, pure and simple. Maybe the creature's cock, not one of its cock-heads, was the appendage that made it immortal. If this was the case, then, by biting off its cock, she might kill the beast itself!

The only problem now (if Baubo's insight proved true, that is) was how to get the fucker's cock in her mouth. So far, the hydra seemed to have avoided inserting its actual member in any of Baubo's orifices, including her mouth. Possibly, it had done so deliberately. Even if it hadn't withheld its penis on purpose, it would do Baubo no good to have the creature penetrate her cunt or ass with its prick; she had no teeth in either of those cavities. The bastard had to shove his penis into her mouth for her to be able to bite the member off. If she managed to do this and her theory was wrong--well, she didn't want to consider what the enraged hydra would do to her in such an event.

The penis lifted, defining a wide arc overhead.

A cock-head pressed against Baubo's cored anus. Another pushed its way past the bleeding labia of her chin-pussy. A third brushed Baubo's lips--the creature's actual cock, the goddess noticed! Her heart skipped a beat, her pulse racing. This was her chance! She lowered her belly, at the same time pushing herself forward with her legs and feet, and snatched the penis into her mouth. The hydra either didn't notice or wasn't concerned, for its prick, like the phallic-headed necks that probed her cunt and asshole, shrank to a dimension that Baubo could accommodate, and slipped more deeply into the warm, wet embrace of her mouth.

No sooner was the cock inside her mouth than Baubo bit down, hard, grinding her teeth through the tough flesh of the erect member. She felt a rush of warm fluid. It was thick and salty, like semen, but with a coppery taste as well. Blood.

The hydra reared onto its hind feet, its prick-heads sliding free of Baubo's chin-cunt and asshole. The serpent-like penis-heads writhed and thrashed like the snakes that grew from the Gorgons' heads. The hydra roared in anguish, trying to jerk its cock from the goddess' mouth, but Baubo had sunk her teeth deeply into its prick, and she held on with a strength of purpose borne of desperation--and terror. As the hydra gyrated its hips savagely back and forth, trying to shake off the diminutive deity, Baubo clamped her jaws even more firmly together, driving the sharp edges of her teeth deeper into the bleeding cock.

The hydra clawed at Baubo with its front paws, but she held on, chewing at the creature's penis which, given the trauma to which she'd subjected it, had wilted inside her mouth, shriveling with pain. A claw raked Baubo's flank, slicing a deep, bloody channel in her outer thigh. The creature's necks thrashed themselves against her, but she held on, biting and chewing, her teeth grinding together through the thin shred of skin that alone connected one part of the hydra's nearly severed penis to the other. Blood had flooded Baubo's mouth. She swallowed it, as she had the creature's semen. More floods followed, one after another, and Baubo gulped them down as well, feeling sick to her stomach. She felt as if she must retch. The thought filled her with dread, for, if she opened her mouth to vomit, she'd free the hydra, and it would slay her at once. Her only hope was to bite the thing's cock in half and let the monster bleed to death. She bit down again, sharply, and the penis parted in her teeth, completely severed at last. She spat out the member. Then, she let the blood spew from her mouth. The last drops dribbled down her chin and past her cunt.

The howling hydra collapsed upon its side. The loop of neck that had circled her ankle fell away, freeing the goddess. The creature's long necks, ending in cock-heads, flailed and writhed, the tiny, lidless eyes flashing with terror and rage.

It was over, Baubo thought. The hydra was in its death throes.

She spat, and her spittle, she noticed, was more red than pink. She spat again.

Without a glance behind her, she took again to the trail she'd been following before the hydra had attacked her. There was a pool ahead or a river, a lake or a stream. Whatever body of water she found first would be the water in which she bathed, for she longed to wash the creature's blood and semen from her flesh and her memory.

She'd found a stream a mile or so down the trail, and she'd bathed in its cold, rushing water until her skin was puckered. She rose, feeling soiled still, and followed the trail down to the sea, where she bathed again, in the saltwater, for hours. She managed to wash the blood and semen from her flesh, but, centuries later, her mind remained soiled with the creature's lust and its merciless use of her.

Even now, in this strange land known as Sunnydale, centuries and thousands of miles from her homeland, Baubo had recalled the horrifying time when she'd been repeatedly ravished by the reptilian hydra. She was a sex goddess and, as such, welcomed all things sexual--all things, that is, but her memories of the hydra. She wished, many times, to be rid of these haunting recollections, but they remained, as much a part of her as anything she'd ever known or been or done. Like Hercules, she was a hydra killer, but this did nothing for her self-esteem. At times, when she thought of the fierce and terrible beast, her mouth was sore, her cunt ached, and her asshole throbbed. She remained, whenever she thought of their encounter, the victim rather than the conqueror.

"What the hell?" Xander Harris cried.

Baubo, lost in her humiliating reminiscences about the hydra, had forgotten to be cautious. She'd been good about keeping to the shadows, avoiding the high-handing torches, and screening her movements--until now. She'd been wandering the streets and alleys of this strange world for an hour or more since she'd left the witch's abode following her escape from her abductor, the Kekk demon who'd transported here with her from Baphomet's crumbling mountain fortress. Now, in a moment's forgetfulness, she'd been spied by one of the male inhabitants of this bizarre world. Women could be trouble, but, in Baubo's long and varied experience, men were always much worse. At best, they were nuisances; at worst, they could be murderous.

The naked goddess imagined what she must look like to the man who'd spotted her. Even in her own world, among her own kind, where odd creatures were replete, Baubo stood out. She was, indeed, unique. Nowhere else in all the universe did there exist a two-and-a-half-foot tall, headless, armless female with a face in her belly and a cunt in her chin. Baubo wondered how many of her lovers, male, female, and otherwise, had been attracted to her because she was different from everyone else. Probably quite a few.

After a while, even the handsomest man or the loveliest woman became tiresome to behold and fucking him or her became tedious, despite his or her uncommonly good looks. This was one reason that men and women had trouble remaining faithful to just one other person. The concept of being faithful to one and only one other person was like being admitted to a garden after promising to visit only one of a thousand beautiful blossoms. Most men and women might have good intentions, but, sooner or later, many failed to keep their promises to one another and to themselves to remain steadfast and single-minded lovers who renounced all others. Eventually, most took a second or a third lover; sometimes, they took many others. In her own world, Zeus was a prime example of infidelity; he was always outraging Hera by dallying with this mortal woman, that nymph, or another goddess. Of course, his taste was not limited to women; often, he took male lovers as well, including the boy Ganymede, whom he'd abducted, spiriting him away to Mount Olympus, to serve as, among other things, his cupbearer.

Eventually, what was true of one's spouse or partner became true of their entire sex as well. A man who became tired of one woman sooner or later tired of all women, and a woman who tired of one man sooner or later tired of all men. In their constant search for variety and novelty--or for variety if not novelty--jaded men and women turned to others of their own sex. Men took other men as their lovers, and women bedded other women. Baubo herself had been with countless lovers of both sexes. Doubling the number of one's sex partners by accepting the bisexuality that was latent within everyone multiplied the number of lovers of whom one could avail oneself. It also made threesomes possible, in which two of one's lovers were male, two were female, or one was male and the other was female. After a time, threesomes had a way of expanding into orgies in which scores or even hundreds of participants enjoyed one another for hours, if not days, at a time. Variety was, again, multiplied. One's excitement was increased, too, especially because there was a sense of the forbidden in sharing oneself intimately with many, either serially or simultaneously, rather than just one other.

By accepting others besides one's spouse or lover as sexual partners and broadening one's interests to include, for example, not only cocks and balls and men's asses but also tits and cunts and women's asses, a person, male or female, could participate in a variety of sexual activities, too, including, among other delights, anal intercourse, cunnilingus, fellatio, mutual or reciprocal masturbation, penis-vagina intercourse, spanking, tit fucking, tit sucking, and a host of other, wilder high jinks. In this manner, sexual possibilities were, again, multiplied.

But, as Xander's chance discovery of Baubo had made her remember, even as, these thoughts tumbling through her mind, along with her fear of being caught and ravished again, she fled pell-mell across lawns and streets, the young man in pursuit, men and women wanted even more novelty and variety than lovers of both sexes performing an array of sexual behaviors could deliver. They sought pleasure among the unnatural and the bizarre, seeking out freaks of nature, amputees, dwarves and midgets, giants, hermaphrodites, and anything else that was beyond the ordinary--and, Baubo knew, she herself was nothing if not extraordinary. Therefore, men, women, and hermaphrodites often sought her, as did both mortals and immortals alike. Everyone, it seemed, wanted a piece of her.

She had no reason to doubt that the handsome, dark-haired youth who'd stumbled upon her in the streets of this strange land would prove any different. Therefore, with all her strength and speed and determination, she fled from him, rushing headlong through the streets and lanes that both united and separated the many houses that rose against the night sky on every hand. As they ran, pursued and pursuer, through the lawns and streets, Baubo heard the savage snarls and agitated barks of dogs that strained at their chains. If one of them were to escape, she couldn't hope to outrun it; the beast would easily kill her. This was a truly dangerous land. How could it not be, when it had spawned such creatures as the Slayer and the witch? For all she knew, the handsome youth who chased her was a powerful warlock with, perhaps, a magical penis that could do all sorts of wonderful, dangerous things, such as swelling within her chin-cunt or rectum to the size of a log or launching semen with the force and rapidity of lightning bolts.




Baubo Ch. 10



Baubo rested against the fence through which she'd escaped the dark-haired young man who'd pursued her. She was thankful that he was too big to fit through the space left by the rotten boards that, she assumed, neighborhood adolescents had broken away to form a shortcut. She'd heard savage dogs howling, barking, and snarling, and she'd been afraid that she might encounter a fierce canine on this side of the fence. She had not. There was nothing and no one in the dark yard in which she stood, struggling to catch her breath. She had no idea where she should go. She was a stranger in a strange land, stranded in a bizarre, unfamiliar world inhabited by women far stronger than Amazons and witches as powerful as any she'd encountered in ancient Greece.

After a few minutes, she regained control of her labored breathing. Her pulse slowed. Her heartbeat returned to normal. Her trembling ceased.

Baubo returned to the streets, careful to screen her movements and keep to the deepest, darkest shadows. She vowed to stay focused on the moment. She couldn't afford to lose herself in the memories of her bawdy, sometimes tawdry, past. She couldn't, and she wouldn't. From now on, she'd be on her guard. She'd live in the here and now.

She managed to keep her promise to herself for fifteen minutes before, once more, she'd drifted into reminiscences of her past sexual escapades. Despite her best intentions to do otherwise, sex, present and past, was too powerful for her to escape. As a sex goddess, sex was who she was. To forget her sexual exploits would be to forget herself; to forger herself would be to sink into oblivion.

This reminiscence picked up where her previous one had left off. Having killed the hydra, Baubo had returned to the mountain trail she'd been following toward the beach, far below. After bathing in a pool, she'd entered the foaming, white-capped surf of the Aegean Sea, trying to wash the hydra's hated sperm from her flesh.

She'd spent most of the day wading in the surf. She sat on the sandy bottom of the sea and scrubbed at one leg with the foot of the other. She was exceedingly flexible, able even to wash the chin-cunt in her belly-face. By kneeling on one knee, she could use the foot of her other leg to scour her buttocks. Bathing in this manner was a time-consuming undertaking, but it was one to which Baubo applied herself with vigor and single-minded purpose.

So intent was she upon performing her toilet that the sex goddess remained unaware of her visitor until he was inside her, upon her, around her, above her, and below her. Her attacker was as liquid as the sea--in fact, he was the sea. The arms that held her, the pubes that pounded her, and the cock that pulsated within her were all formed of water!

Baubo had masturbated with water before--several times. She'd lay inside a bathtub while servants, sometimes male, sometimes female, poured water from a large ewer directly over the tiny bud of her chin's clitoris. She would station a servant on either side of the tub. While one poured, the other stood ready to take over the task when his or her counterpart's pitcher had been emptied. Meanwhile, other servants filled a third and a fourth pitcher so that there was always a container full of water at hand. In this way, a steady and continuous stream of falling water could be directed upon and against the goddess' chin-cunt and clitoris. Sometimes, depending on her mood, one pitcher was enough to bring her to orgasm. On other occasions, two, three, or more might be required to accomplish the same goal.

What Baubo felt now, however, was far superior to the sensations she'd enjoyed as a result of the pouring pitchers. Cool surges of water caressed her thighs, her labia, her clit, her cunt, and her ass. She felt waves of warm, salty water wash over her belly-face. Billows and swells of white-foamed water washed through her streaming hair. It was as if every inch of her flesh and form were being rubbed and kneaded and soothed by an expert masseuse. Wayward currents streaked along the cleavage of her sleek buttocks and tickled the cleft of her chin-cunt. Watery tendrils trailed past her lips and fluttered her eyelids and lashes. A different kind of fluid stirred within her sex as Baubo began to get excited by the caresses of the sea. Baubo wished she had breasts so that her mounting excitement might stiffen their nipples, adding to the exquisite passion that was building inside her. She moaned, parting her legs.

An endless series of waves rocked her. She swayed gently upon the troughs between the swells that had passed her and those that approached her. It was absurd to think in such terms, Baubo realized, but the waves, like the currents and the undercurrents that caressed and massaged her, seemed to represent a strange sort of foreplay that was both erotic and, at the same time, frightening. It was as if the sea were making love to her.

Impossible, of course--but that was what it felt like, what it seemed like.

A vortex of water swirled about the bud of Baubo's clitoris. She gasped, startled--and delighted--at the sudden, intensely concentrated, twirling contact. The water's touch seemed too definite, precise, and adept to have been the accident of natural forces. It seemed to have been deliberate and purposeful. It seemed to have been the result of conscious will.

Baubo chuckled. She was being absurd, thinking that the sea was somehow alive, somehow mindful and aware. It was not. It was merely saltwater. It was nothing.

As if to confirm her logic, the miniature eddy ceased.

See? Baubo asked herself. The idea that the sea was somehow a conscious and purposeful entity was absurd. It was ridiculous. Baubo shook her head, rolling her eyes.

The next whirlpool tunneled into her anus, tickling her sphincter. Again, the definite, precise, and adept character of the vortex, in touching her there and nowhere else, especially after another eddy had tickled her clitoris, just a moment ago, seemed uncanny. Her mind told Baubo that the water was nothing more than water, whereas her deeper instincts cautioned her that the sea was more--much more--than it seemed.

Baubo shook her head again. Preposterous!

The vortex that drilled her asshole was joined by a second eddy that spun against the tip of her clitoris.

Baubo squirmed, startled.

The sea's actions seemed responses to her thoughts. They weren't, though, obviously. The sea was simply salt and water. It had no mind, no spirit, no soul. It could understand nothing, any more than it could know, or even sense, anything. The vortexes' tickling first her clitoris, next her asshole, and finally both her cunt and her rectum were mere coincidences, proving nothing.

The whirlpools at her clitoris and anus widened, intensifying.

Another answer? Another coincidence?

Baubo didn't seem as sure now as she had been before.

Effervescence exploded, burst upon burst, between the sex goddess' legs, tickling and caressing her chin-cunt. More fizz and froth erupted along the cleavage of her buttocks, stroking the sleek mounds on either side of the deep cleft. Baubo's sex responded, releasing its own flood of warm fluids. Her clitoris was rigid and swollen with passion.

A conch shell, drifting through the water, swept past the side of Baubo's belly, settling in place over her ear; a second floated toward the opposite side of her abdomen, settling into place over her other ear. Flowing sea currents kept the shells in place--another seeming marvel, Baubo thought.

More explosions of tiny bubbles flicked Baubo's clit, stroked her labia and cunt, and caressed her ass. Baubo's cunt was itself a river of juices. She gasped, biting her lower lip. She was so titillated that tears sprang to her eyes. She wanted--needed--the release of orgasm, but such liberation through ecstasy eluded her.

Through the conch shells, she heard what appeared to be the sound--no, the voice--of the sea. "Bauuubbbo!"

"Who are you?" the diminutive deity asked, feeling only slightly silly at addressing herself to the sea. After all, never had any body of water done the things to her that this sea had done.

There was no answer.

Perhaps, Baubo thought, she'd imagined the voice, the sound.

Perhaps she'd imagined the caresses, too.

Perhaps she'd imagined everything.

She shook her head at her silliness, her suggestibility, her foolishness.

The sea was saltwater, nothing more.

A surge of effervescence flashed through Baubo's legs, along her buttocks, and past her chin-cunt. Baubo thrilled to the watery touch.

Then, again, from the shells, she heard her name: "Bauuubbbo!"

Convinced, at last, that the effervescent caresses, the surging wave-massages, and the voice calling her name from the conch shells that the sea had clasped to her ears were no coincidences, the sex goddess felt unnerved. These phenomena, although, for the most part welcome, were eerie.

Again, Baubo demanded, "Who are you?"

Instead of an answer, Baubo felt a churning inside her. A wide whirlpool spun through her labia, past her clitoris, and into her chin-cunt. The goddess cried out, shrieking with surprise, fear, and delight. She trembled with passion.

The revolving column of water spun faster and faster inside her, even as it rose and descended with the rapidity of a watery tornado.

"Uh!" Baubo moaned, her thighs shuddering. All around her, the sea went white with foam, and the vortex inside her withdrew. The water frothed and fizzed; everywhere tiny bubbles rose. The whole ocean seemed to roil and churn, as if it were boiling, but there was no heat. It was another wonder, Baubo thought, astonished, another miracle. She was in the presence of an entity of tremendous power. Once more, she demanded, "Who are you?"

Out of the churning sea, a towering figure rose--a gigantic male with scales instead of flesh, gills in his throat, and fins along his back, forearms, and thighs. His hands and legs were webbed, and in his right fist he clutched the long handle of a golden trident. Water ran from his magnificent body--from his deep, broad chest; his firm, flat belly; his powerful thighs; his two-foot-long penis and coconut-size balls. The soaring figure was twenty five feet tall, Baubo judged.

At last, she knew her latest lover's name: no less a personage than Poseidon, the god of the sea, had had his way with her!

"Where are you bound?" the god spoke, his words like thunder booming over the deep.

Baubo gulped. Although she herself was a goddess, she was one of the lesser deities, whereas Poseidon was one of Zeus' brothers. "I don't know," she managed to reply.

"You don't know?" the god repeated, sounding incredulous.

"No," Baubo admitted, thinking that her lack of direction in life was the reason that things always seemed to happen to her rather than her making things happen. Her indecisiveness, hesitancy, and vacillation made her the victim of others' whims and the plaything of others' lusts. It also added to her sense of the absurdity of existence, of the ultimate meaninglessness of life. Perhaps it was a reason for her promiscuity as well. Lacking a sense of meaning and purpose, she sought to lose herself in sex, in men, women, and hermaphrodites. If she could find no home in the world, she could, at least, find beds, if not arms, in which to rest.

"Anywhere is as good as nowhere," Poseidon replied, and he lifted his arms. The sea rose around them, higher and higher, forming a mountainous peak. "Peace be with you, goddess of sex," he said, and lowered his arms.

The mountain of water dropped upon itself, rushing away in every direction. Baubo was borne away upon a flood. In minutes, she was miles away, coming to rest upon the sandy shore of a small island green with the lush foliage of thick forests and fields. Birds and butterflies rose among the treetops, and there were wildflowers everywhere. Baubo was no longer anywhere or nowhere; she was somewhere. Where was "somewhere"? That was the question.

. . . to be continued. . . . 



Baubo Ch. 11



"Willow! What's up?"

Xander had spied his best friend as he hastened past the darkened yards along the Sunnydale street that led toward his house--or, more specifically, toward the basement apartment that he rented from his parents.

The redheaded witch was following a sphere of glowing light. "I'm hunting."

Xander fell in step with her, matching her stride for stride. "Hunting what?"

"Just hunting." Willow knew better than to be honest with Xander. She'd foresworn vengeance against Andrew for his role in her girlfriend's death. After Willow had skinned Warren alive, Buffy, Xander, and her other friends had convinced Willow that taking the law into her own hands was wrong, regardless of how emotionally satisfying it might be to kill the bastards who'd killed Tara. Before Willow had killed Warren, he and Andrew had slain Jonathan, so only Andrew remained of the murderous trio. If Andrew were to die--or meet a fate worse than death--Willow's revenge against Tara's killers would be complete. Although she agreed, philosophically, that vigilantism was wrong, the satisfaction she'd gain emotionally from avenging Tara's death by settling the score with Andrew was too great an opportunity to miss. Besides, she'd agreed only not to kill Andrew. The fate she had in mind for the little creep was far worse than taking his worthless life.

"Mind if I tag along?"

"Yes."

"Mind if I tag along, anyway?"

Willow stopped. The ball of light hovered in the night sky.

"I don't want company," she said.

"That's when you usually need company the most." Xander observed.

"Xander, I don't have time for--"

"Guess what I saw."

"Xander, don't make me--"

"A little bitty naked lady," he began.

"You're pushing your luck," Willow warned.

"With no head, no arms, and no hands," Xander finished quickly.

Willow frowned. Raising her hand, she levitated her friend into the sky, depositing him on a branch, close to the trunk of a tree. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

"I thought maybe she was the one you're hunting," Xander called down from his perch above the street.

"You thought wrong," the witch explained. "That's why you're up a tree."

"Without a paddle. Let me down."

"Only if you promise to be a good boy and go home."

Xander weighed his options. It took only a second. "Okay."

"If you don't, you'll go right back up," Willow warned.

"I will," Xander promised.

Willow gestured, and Xander found his feet planted firmly upon terra firma--or, more specifically, the sidewalk--once again. "Thanks."

"Now, go home."

"You should go home, too," he ventured as he started in the direction of his parents' house.

She would, Willow thought, after she'd settled her score with Andrew. She nodded at the glowing sphere, and it floated again through the darkness. Willow followed.

Baubo, the headless, armless, handless, naked sex goddess to whom Xander had referred, continued to wander the alleyways and byways of Sunnydale, avoiding the dogs, the passersby, and the strangely clad men and women in the horseless chariots with the glowing eyes. The Kekk demon who'd abducted her before teleporting from Baphomet's demon dimension into this strange world had brought her to a forbidding and hostile place filled, it seemed, with humans who were as powerful as the gods and goddesses over whom Zeus reigned. The big-eyed blonde named Buffy, for example, although slight of stature, had not only single-handedly killed Baphomet but had also brought down his mountaintop fortress. Baubo would have considered such a feat impossible for anyone other than Zeus himself--or perhaps Hercules--but the petite vampire slayer had accomplished it. The denizens of this world were dangerous. Extreme caution was necessary at every moment. Baubo was determined to remain vigilant.

Nevertheless, within a quarter of an hour, she was again lost in reverie, remembering her bygone days in what, today, was considered ancient Greece.

As a perhaps-unlikely sex goddess, Baubo had had many lovers, male, female, and otherwise, including Aegina the Amazon, a lamia, a hydra, and even the sea god, Poseidon himself. In fact, it was after Zeus' brother had finished ravaging her as she bathed in the sea, washing away the foul semen of the many-pricked hydra, that the sea god had dispatched her to the island to which her reverie had now returned her.

Unlike humans' memories, those of the deities were as vivid, as detailed, and as complete as the experiences themselves of which the memories were cognitive copies, so that, merely by recalling past events, the gods and goddesses, Baubo included, as good as relived them. Many a time, when she'd been alone at night, as she was tonight, Baubo had comforted herself by losing herself in memories of her past sexual trysts. Perhaps this was why, despite her cautions to herself, only moments ago, concerning the need to remain vigilant, she had yet again slipped into the past. Reliving her past sexual encounters was comforting; it had become a habit, and habits sometimes resisted even the most conscious and determined efforts not to act upon them.

The island's terrain was hilly and mountainous, the only flat land being occasional stretches of beach. It was also thick with forests of pine, olives, sycamores, oaks, birches, and plane trees. There were also various fruit and nut trees, and many wildflowers--gentians, tulips, fritillaries, lilies, orchids, pansies, saxifrages, columbines, and bellflowers. The island was fairly isolated, being situated at the southernmost tip of one of the Aegean's many archipelagos. In its own way, the island was beautiful, as was the three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the sea that surrounded it. Fortunately, the island's trees and shrubs provided plenty of nourishment, for Baubo was stranded upon the small oasis of land in the midst of the sea and there was no telling when, if ever, she might be rescued.

She'd been tempted to wonder why Poseidon had cast her onto the island after they'd made love in the sea. Had she displeased him in some way? She shrugged. It was no use trying to fathom the mind of the sea god anymore than it was to attempt to discern what made Zeus or any of the other deities, herself included, do what they did. The behavior of the gods was seldom rational. Most often, they did or did not act on the basis of mere emotion, whim, or caprice.

With nothing else to do, Baubo spent her days exploring the island. Much of the coastline faced sheer cliffs, with only brief, intermittent stretches of level beach, so she decided to trek into the island's densely forested interior.

The diminutive deity was in good condition, and the sharply rising terrain challenged but did not discourage her. She enjoyed hiking and did so on a regular basis. It was a result, in large part, of her fondness for hiking that she'd encountered many of the strange and wonderful entities with whom she'd had sex. Although she appeared to be alone on this island, one never knew for certain. She might encounter some horny monster, god or goddess, or other extraordinary creature. If so, that would be all right with her. Baubo was always ready to have sex of any kind with anyone or, for that matter, with anything.

She was just cresting a steep slope when an odd creature sprang at her.

Its appearance had been so sudden and unexpected and its attack so quick that Baubo had had no time to react, other than to gasp and stumble backward a step or two. Fortunately, the creature did not mean to kill her; if it had intended to slay her, Baubo knew, she would have been killed. Instead, the creature, which was shaped like an oval with only a few inches' thickness, had flung itself between Baubo's legs, folding itself between her thighs, with half its body against over the lower halves of her buttocks and the other half over the cunt inside her chin. Having leaped onto Baubo, the bizarre creature inserted two phallic appendages into the tiny goddess--one into her chin-cunt, the other into her rectum.

Aghast, Baubo immediately sat upon the ground. Although she had neither arms nor hands, the goddess was not as helpless as her lack of upper limbs might indicate. She was exceedingly adept at using her legs and feet, so much so that she was able to do almost everything that anyone with arms and hands could do, including grasp and pull at something such as this monstrous creature that had attached itself between her thighs and impaled her cunt and ass with its penis-like appendages.

Angling her thighs away from her groin and sharply bending her knees so that her calves pointed toward her cunt, Baubo was able to masturbate herself by rubbing her clitoris with her big toe or inserting her toes into her pussy and foot-fucking herself. Now, however, she used her toes as fingers, curling them around the flesh of the thing between her legs and pulling. The creature's skin stretched within her grip, looking rather like the dough of a small pizza. However, the monster remained where it was, between Baubo's legs, its phallic members in place within her nether orifices.

Grunting, the sex goddess redoubled her efforts, tightening her toes and exerting all her strength in a determined effort to wrench the creature from between her thighs. Again, her effort failed. The entity remained where it was, pressed as firmly against her lower buttocks, her perineum, and her chin-cunt as if it were another layer of skin, its cock-like organs impaling her front and rear.

The creature did not hurt her. It did not sting, nor did it bite. However, its mere presence was disturbing. It was frightening to have a living creature nesting against one's crotch and ass. Who knew what it had inserted inside her vagina and rectum? Just because the tentacle-like things were like cocks did not mean that they were cocks. They could be anything.

Baubo redoubled her efforts to pull the beast from its nesting spot, but without success. Again and again, she repeated her efforts, growing more frantic each time she failed. Finally, she surrendered, accepting the presence of the detestable creature. It did not seem bent upon harming her. It had not injured her or otherwise hurt her. It seemed content merely to gave taken up residence, as it were, between her legs.

Baubo stood. Looking down, she could see the flap of skin that the creature had folded over her chin-cunt, and she could feel the rest of its folded body lying against both her perineum and her lower buttocks. She could also feel its penis-things inside her vagina and rectum. Fervently, Baubo hoped that the bastard didn't intend to breed with her!

An even worse thought occurred to her. What if the damned thing were a female instead of a male? What if its apparent penises were really egg-delivery tubes and it meant to inject its ova into her cunt and ass to incubate, hatch, and, possibly, devour her from within?

This possibility drained Baubo of all color, and, ashen, she trembled as she made her way to a stream that she'd seen from a nearby hilltop during her trek through the island's highlands. Perhaps, by wading into the stream, she could drown the bastard between her legs!

As Baubo strode toward the island stream, Willow continued to follow the glowing sphere through the dark streets of Sunnydale, California. Abruptly, as it approached the silhouette of a young man who stood in the shadow of a tree, the sphere vanished, and Willow knew she'd found her man--one of the three nerdy punks who'd killed the love of her life. On the rampage that had followed their murder of Tara, Willow had skinned Warren alive. He and Andrew had killed Jonathan as a sacrifice in one of their blood rituals. Of the trio of murderers, only Andrew remained. He'd been under the protection of Buffy and Willow's other friends, for whose sakes she'd agreed not to kill the bastard.

However, Willow had had no intention of keeping her word to Buffy, Xander, Giles, Anya, and Dawn. All along, she'd been waiting only for the chance to slay Andrew, to make him pay for what he'd done to Tara. Over time, Buffy and the others had let down their guard, and even Andrew, the pussy, had become convinced that Willow no longer intended to harm him. Perhaps, he'd even come to hope that the witch, seeing his willingness to repent of his foul deeds, had forgiven him.

As Willow stepped into the meager light of a nearby streetlamp, she smiled. "Hello, Warren."

Andrew's eyes widened, and he stepped away from the witch. He swallowed. "Willow!"

His obvious fear--his terror--at the sight of her was pleasing. Willow's smile stretched into a grin. "Glad to see me, Andrew?"

"Uh, yeah," he lied. "Uh, sure. Willow. How have you, uh, been?"

The witch's eyes narrowed, and her smile disappeared. Suddenly, the night seemed much colder, and the darkness appeared to have deepened.

"You killed Tara, you bastard!" Willow charged. "How do you think I feel? I feel like hell!"

As she said the word "hell," the whites of her eyes went dark, and her irises turned scarlet. Veins stood out beneath the smooth, alabaster skin of her face, and her red hair turned black.

Andrew screamed. Spinning away from the witch, he ran. Behind him, he could hear Willow laughing.

She didn't sound merry. The laughter was hoarse and grating.

It sounded like hell.

. . . to be continued. . . . 



Baubo Ch. 12



Baubo picked her way cautiously down the steep, rocky face of the slope that led to the stream that meandered through the countryside below, among banks bright with splendid wildflowers. She stumbled and slid part of the way down the hillside, but she arrived at the side of the stream none the worse for wear, other than having acquired a few minor scrapes and bruises.

Gingerly, she poked a toe into the water to test its temperature. She shivered. The rushing water was cold. Normally, she would not have elected to enter water as icy as this, but, given her present circumstances, she decided to brave the chilly stream. Bracing herself against the shock of cold that would occur the moment she stepped into the watercourse, she took a deep breath and placed a leg into the turbulent current. Liquid ice seemed to seize her in its freezing embrace. Baubo gasped. Had she had breasts, no doubt her nipples would have become erect immediately. She glanced at her thighs. Already, there was a mild blue cast to the goose-pimpled flesh.

Baubo steeled herself. She brought the other leg into the water. The icy liquid was almost painful, seeming, paradoxically, to burn rather than to freeze.

Baubo shuddered. She wished she had arms to wrap about herself.

Since she was short of stature, the domed top of her belly forming the top of her skull, it didn't take long before Baubo had entered the stream to the depth of her chin, which meant, since her cunt was in her chin, to the depth of her pussy as well. Both her lower buttocks and her chin-cunt were covered in the freezing-cold water. If the creature between Baubo's legs was disturbed by cold water that enveloped it, it gave no indication of any discomfort, remaining as still and silent as if it were merely another part of Baubo's own body.

That was all right with Baubo, though; she didn't intend merely to make the damned thing uncomfortable. She meant to drown it, if possible. She knew nothing of its anatomy or its physiology, but she hoped that it, at least, had to breathe. If so, she hoped that its lungs or its lungs-gills combination, its pores, or whatever else it breathed through would be unable to extract sufficient oxygen from the water and, submerged long enough, it would, therefore, drown, or suffocate. That was the plan, anyway.

How long would it take to drown such a creature, assuming that it could be drowned, that is? Baubo wondered. Among mortals, the vast majority, even of those in peak condition, were unable to hold their breaths for more than five minutes. The gods, of course, could hold their breaths much longer; some could hold them indefinitely. Others, such as Poseidon, could actually breathe underwater or on land. Baubo wasn't certain, but the strange creature that had attached itself to her didn't seem like any sort of immortal she'd ever seen or heard of, and, as a goddess herself, she'd seen or heard of most. It was much more likely that the strange creature was some sort of unknown animal. If so, it was likely to have lungs, gills, or both, like any other animal. If that were the case, it shouldn't be able, judging by its size, to hold its breath for longer than most men in top shape. Baubo reckoned, if her body could bear the cold, she'd stay in the stream for twice that amount of time, just to be on the safe side. Surely--she hoped--in ten minutes, the crotch-monster would have drowned.

Baubo decided that, to drown the bastard, she needn't stand in the same spot, shivering. She could wade downstream and shiver. Along the way, she could check out the local flora and fauna. Hopefully, she wouldn't encounter another of the things like the one that had attached itself to her groin and buttocks.

As the stream continued to wend downhill, the vegetation along its edges thickened. The sun was dappled upon the churning surface of the stream, and shadows rippled upon its water, along with the golden shimmering of the sun. Among the branches and twigs and roots of trees and shrubs, wildflowers peeked, adding color to the changing flutter of light and shade. Among the crags of a distant mountain peak, a waterfall flashed against the bare rock walls. Despite the dangers of this island, it was a beautiful place.

Ten minutes passed quickly. Thinking that, surely, the monster had drowned by now, she found a suitable place to wade ashore. Water sluiced down her legs as she strode onto the damp earth. She sat immediately, gripped the creature in her feet, and pulled fiercely--to no avail. The damned thing was as immovable as ever. Baubo's brilliant plan had accomplished nothing other than to freeze her and to waste ten minutes of her time.

She gave up. She'd exhausted herself in trying to detach the flat, elliptical creature that had taken up residence between her legs. She hadn't been able to remove it, and she hadn't been able to drown it. She'd have to come to accept it as a part of herself. Although she wasn't happy about her new body part, she'd have to resign herself to its presence. She might as well get used to it; it wasn't going anywhere. Perhaps, if she ever got off this island, she could appeal to Zeus to remove the creature. Meanwhile, she was stuck with it: it was part of her.

Having resigned herself to the presence of the creature, Baubo managed to forget about it--most of the time, at least. At first, she couldn't stop thinking about the grotesque creature that nested between her legs, its phallic-shaped appendages lodged inside her vagina and her rectum. Now, she thought about it less and less often. Sometimes, she'd forget about it for hours.

However, a disturbing thought presented itself. What if she had to relieve her bladder or evacuate her bowels? How could she do so if her anus and her urethra were sealed shut by the creature that had not only covered but also filled both orifices through which she performed such necessary functions?

Now that the thought had occurred to her, Baubo was unable to dismiss it. She dwelled upon it. Within moments, she felt pressure inside her bladder and her intestines. She felt the need to urinate and to defecate. Before the thought had occurred to her concerning the creature's blocking of her cunt and her ass and what its sealing of those cavities implied concerning her ability to discharge her body's wastes, Baubo had felt no need to relieve herself. Now, it seemed that the pressures inside her bladder and bowels increased with each passing second. What would happen, she wondered, if she were not able to relieve herself? Was it possible that she could explode? She had no idea, but she sure as hell didn't want to find out!

Afraid, Baubo again seated herself upon the ground, ignoring the grit, the twigs, and the small pebbles that dug into her backside. Using her feet as hands and her toes as fingers, she took a firm hold upon the flesh of the folded creature and yanked as hard as she could. The thing's flesh stretched as much as a foot, but the creature remained in place between her legs, sealing off her asshole and her urethra, her rectum and her vagina.

Damn! Baubo thought. What was she to do?

The pressure inside her bladder continued to build. The organ was probably half again its normal size, the goddess thought. How big could it get before--well, before something happened? Something really, really bad! For that matter, what volume of gases could build inside her intestines before, unable to vent them, she felt the winding cylinders burst within her?

Baubo squirmed. The pressure building inside her bloating bowels was becoming uncomfortable, as was the pressure in her bloated bladder. Again, she tried, desperately, to tear the creature from her body, but to no avail.

For some reason known, if at all, only to himself--or for no reason at all--Zeus had been pleased to create Baubo without hands or arms or head. If only he hadn't done so, she might be able to use her hands to snatch this monster from between her legs and toss it off a cliff.

Just as a hypochondriac is convinced that every twinge, tic, ache, or itch is a symptom of the onset of a dreadful, perhaps fatal, disease, Baubo became more and more convinced that she had to void her bladder and her bowels or explode. The more she thought about it, the more she had to go. Her every moment was misery, and each passing instant multiplied her suffering until she thought that, were she unable to piss or shit, she'd go mad.

Apparently, she decided later, upon reflection, the creature was able to monitor and measure the true extent of the pressure within her bladder and bowels. Somehow, it sensed or knew how much her bladder had inflated with urine and how much fecal matter waited within her bowels, for, just as Baubo could not endure for another second the cramping pains within her abdomen, the creature lifted itself an inch or so from the sex goddess' body, allowing Baubo to dribble her urine and excrete her feces past its underside. Baubo was so relieved to be able to discharge these wastes that she didn't think to try to rip the creature from her body. Instead, she simply delivered the golden shower of her urine and the brown shower of her feces. As soon as the excretions ceased, the monster snapped itself back into place, as flush against Baubo's body as if it were not a separate entity but an outgrowth of the diminutive deity's own physique.

It was on the morning of the second day that Baubo experienced the orgasmic effects of whatever it was that the creature did to her with its phallic appendages. The fleshly tentacles could lengthen or contract rapidly, so that, in effect, they thrust themselves back and forth through Baubo's impaled sphincters, both fore and aft. Although it at all times remained stationary, it grew and retracted its penile-appendages so rapidly and forcefully that it seemed to Baubo as if she were being fucked simultaneously in both her cunt and her ass. The shafts touched one another through the thin wall between her vagina and her rectum, adding to the intensity of the sensations that Baubo experienced. Moreover, the phallic-things actually vibrated, throbbing rapidly against the muscular rings of her anal and and her vaginal sphincters, producing an audible hum not unlike that of a cat's purr, only much louder.

Involuntarily, Baubo responded. Her cunt became a river. Inside her pussy, it seemed that, all along the phallic appendage, dozens of tiny tongues licked and lapped at the walls and tissues of her cunt, slurping up the organ's precious juices. Amazingly, the tentacle-like things could also change temperature, and they did so all the while that they hummed and pulsated within her orifices, becoming warmer and hotter or cooler and colder according to some internal, biological thermostat. The combined effects, although perhaps unintended and accidental, were to produce orgasm after orgasm. Baubo shuddered and moaned with one sexual climax after another, her heart pounding, her lungs heaving, her flooded cunt throbbing, and her slick, wet clitoris pulsating, even as her asshole fluttered frantically and her thighs and buttocks flexed and clamped.

Nor did these magnificent orgasms subside in an hour--or a day. They lasted for weeks at a time, driving Baubo almost mad with the intensity of the pleasure that built and built within her, each wave of ecstasy overlapping the next, as succession after succession of rapturous delight swept through her, pounding her soul as much as her body. Baubo was reduced to a writhing body. She lay upon the ground, squirming and wriggling, her kicking legs pin wheeling her round and round on her back as she moaned and groaned, climaxing again and again. The elimination of the wastes of her body seemed a forgotten need. She felt no need to eat or drink, either, nor to sleep. She was hardly a person--or a goddess--at all anymore. Instead, it seemed she was simply a cunt and a clitoris, an ass and an asshole, all afire with the overwhelming, all-consuming experience of orgasm followed by orgasm, ad infinitum.

Centuries later, if not miles apart, Willow had finally caught up with Andrew. Now, she meant to make him pay for his part in Tara's death. She wasn't going to kill him, though, as she'd once been content to do. Death would have been too easy--and too good--for someone like Andrew.

Baubo heard, rather than saw, the tidal wave as, fifty feet tall, it rushed the island, swamping the lowlands. Atop the crest of this mountainous wave, Poseidon rode, trident in hand. In dispatching Baubo to this enchanted island, he'd meant to reward Baubo, but, he realized after speaking with Zeus, that the orgasm-inducing organism could never be detached or killed by anyone less than one of the chief deities of the pantheon. Fortunately, he was one of them. He'd come to rescue the diminutive deity who had so well pleased him when he'd had sexual relations with her a month ago. He rode the crest of the wave inland as far as he could, and, then, assuming the fleshly form of a giant, he strode into the rising hills.

When he reached Baubo, the sex goddess was in the throes of ecstasy--a more or less continuous orgasm that had gone on for hours and days and weeks. She was exhausted, but the muscular spasms and contractions that ecstasy had brought and continued to bring, in wave after wave of intense passion, twisted and rocked her, and she sobbed and moaned with a passion that was akin to grief.

The god of the sea stabbed his trident between her legs, spearing the creature that had provided non-stop sexual pleasure to Baubo for days on end. It dropped to the ground, its phallic appendages still growing and receding inside their stalks as they pulsated and hummed.

"What do you want?" Andrew asked.

He was nervous, Willow thought. He was more than just nervous, in fact; he was terrified. That's good, she thought. "This!" she said. She held out her hands, palms toward Andrew, and waved them apart.

Before her eyes, the astonished nerd shrank. His head diminished in size, seeming to collapse upon itself. At the same time, his features, enlarging, appeared to flow into his chest, which, as his head had done, shrank upon itself. His ears had vanished, melting into his molten, flowing flesh, but his eyes and nose and mouth positioned themselves in the cooling muscle, tissue, and skin, becoming a face within his belly. His head, neck, and shoulders were gone, as were his arms and hands, which had withered and fallen away from the trunk of his transformed torso. Andrew screamed, his voice breaking and quavering, loud and long, a siren's wail. "Noooooo!"

"Yes!" Willow cried. "Yes, damn you! Yes!"

Willow flung her hand aside, and Andrew's clothes ripped and tore, flying from his body. He was naked. His penis and his testicles-filled scrotum dangled from his chin. He was as Humpty Dumpty-like a figure as Baubo, but with male genitals instead of female.

"What have you done to me?" Andrew screamed. "What the hell have you done?"

"Baubo," Willow said.

"What?"

Andrew had misunderstood Willow. She hadn't been answering his question; she'd been issuing a command, summoning the diminutive deity who was wandering the streets of Sunnydale. Instantly, Baubo materialized. Andrew stared, shock and disbelief on his countenance as he saw the feminine counterpart to himself. "What the hell is that?" he demanded, terrified.

"She's not a 'that,'" Willow corrected him. "She's a she--a goddess in fact."

"Willow, change me back," Andrew pleaded.

"A sex goddess," Willow added.

"You promised," Andrew reminded her. "You promised Buffy and Xander, Giles and Dawn. You said it was over."

"Now, it is," Willow replied.

Baubo grinned with delight upon seeing Andrew. At last, here was someone like her, a fit mate! This was the one she'd been seeking, she realized, in all her wanderings and journeys. She hadn't wanted to fuck gods and demons, trolls and lamia, Amazons and hydras--all this time, she'd been seeking the one male who would be right for her, and, now, here, in this unlikeliest of all worlds, she'd found him! The witch, Willow, had called him Andrew. "Andrew," she said, kissing his lips with hers.

"Willooooow!" Andrew cried, but his voice was lost in the sound of the rushing wind that had borne him and his consort off to Baubo's long-ago homeland, the Greece of Homer's poems, in which Zeus still reigned among the gods and Greece was home to creatures as mystical and strange, as wonderful and bizarre as Baubo and Andrew.

"It's over," willow said.

Tara's death, at last, had been completely avenged.

The End