| Codes:
be, tf Summary: Kel is excited to get her new fake ID, and decides to try it first at that dirty little tavern down the street that she's always been told to stay away from. Author's Note: This is just one of the many unusual stories I have heard from the regulars at a dive bar a few blocks from my apartment. Of course, it should be mentioned that everyone who hangs out there is a notorious liar. |
| "It's called a 'Black
Heart Killer Orgasm,'" the man behind the bar suggested.
"It's my specialty," "Okay," Kel said with what she hoped was a mysterious, if seductive, smile. "I'll have one," "That's good- because one is the limit," the bartender flashed her a wry smile that suggested he knew that her photo ID was bullshit. He probably did, but the Ash Street Tavern did not seem like the kind of place which worried about such things. It was smoky and dirty, and the dark hardwood of the floor and bar absorbed the scant light like stale beer. Kel, perched on her stool, watched as the barman began pouring a frightening concoction of black liquors from dusty bottles without labels. When he finally coaxed it out of his shaker into a large shot glass, the inky liquid seemed to ooze under it's own power. "Most people want a chaser," the bartender said, setting the shot and a bottle of Budweiser down in front of the young woman. "The beer's on the house, miss," "Thanks," Steeling her nerves, Kel stared at the two ounces of darkness in front of her. For a second, she was convinced it was going to climb out of the glass and escape. As she contemplated the shot, the front door of the bar opened, temporarily flooding the interior of the tavern with sunlight that only sharpened the shadows within. The bartender excused himself and went to serve the pair of giggling women who entered. Taking a deep breath, the underaged girl captured the shot and forced it down her throat. The taste was initially sweet, becoming spicier with time. First came a warm, cinnamon sensation, followed by the playful burn of hot candle wax on bare skin. Kel coughed and reached for the beer, which only seemed to smear the heat around her lips. She licked her lips, feeling suddenly flushed and dizzy. She could still taste anise and cinnamon in the back of her throat. Taking another swig of beer, she lost her balance and fell to the ground with a loud crash. Everyone in the bar looked at her, if only from the corner of their eyes. She saw the girls at the end of the bar shake their heads and thought she saw one of them mouth the words 'drunk slut.' Embarrassed, Kel scrambled to her feet and righted the barstool. "Are you alright, miss?" the bartender returned and cleared her empty shot glass and bottle. "I'm fine," she said, her head spinning, "I'm just a klutz," "Another beer?" "Maybe," Kel said automatically. A fire began to crawl up her throat. "Um, where's your ladies' room," "Afraid we don't have one," he said. "Not many ladies come through here, you see," Kel forced a laugh. It was a bad joke, but the bartender was cute and pointed in the direction of the women's bathroom. The young woman nodded and walked quickly across the bar floor. Past the bathroom door, the dilapidated ambiance of the Ash Street Tavern continued uninterrupted by any feminine touch. The women's bathroom reminded her of someplace she had seen on the cover of one of her father's Rolling Stones albums. Kel walked to a rusty sink and splashed cold water on her face. In a broken mirror, she was as pale as a ghost. "Ugh, gross," Kel tried to adjust her disheveled bangs, when suddenly she gagged and spit a mouthful of bile into the sink. Clamping a hand over her mouth, Kel left a trail of vomit into the nearest stall. She felt her stomach turn inside out as she retched and heaved over the bowl. Spent and embarrassed, Kel rolled onto her back and laid on the cold, dirty tile floor. She felt better, if only marginally. Her stomach was still twitching, and her throat was sore and scratchy. And, for some reason, her tits ached. Painfully. The straps of her bra, too, were cutting into her shoulders. Kel groaned as another round of nausea passed through her body. Stomach clenched, this time she didn't feel the expected purge. Instead, her body began to stretch. It felt like somebody was filling her with body with too much blood. Her skin tightened as her thighs, hips and butt grew. Her tits, too, began to expand. Kel watched in helpless terror as each spasm added inches to her sore, tortured bust line. "Oh, god!" Kel struggled to get on her knees again. Her clothes, which had been tight on her still developing teenage body, where now squeezing the air out of her rib cage. "Fuck!" Her nails shredded her top like razor blades and easily sliced through the elastic tourniquet around her tits. They made short work of her jeans, too, allowing her powerful legs to spill out of the spreading seam. Breathing heavily, Kel coughed and spit a mouthful of black ichor into the toilet. At least her legs and ass had stopped burning, she thought as the scraps of her designer jeans fell away. Her tits, however, still felt like they were filled with kerosene. Dropping to all fours, Kel could see the muscles in her abdomen clench as the urge to void her stomach again overtook her. Hot tears streaked down her face as her breasts burst forward in one final, stomach twisting surge. By the time the nausea passed, her hands and knees weren't the only parts of Kel's body touching the floor. "What the hell is happening to me?" she groaned, still coughing up licorice and Tabasco flavored bile. Three throbbing knots of pain appeared under the skin on her back. It felt as though she had glowing coals beneath her shoulder blades and above her tail bone. With a sickening familiarity, she felt them bulge and spread. This time, the pain was unbearable. Kel grabbed the porcelain rim and screamed into the unflushed toilet as the skin at each point was stretched to the breaking point. After minutes of searing pain, the young woman felt her back tore open, the sensation accompanied with the sound of punching a hole through leather. Black wings wrapped her sobbing body as a spade-tipped tail wrapped itself coyly around her right thigh. Finally able to stand again, Kel wiped off her mouth and stumbled out of the bathroom stall., Her cracked reflection looked haggard as she rinsed her face. She looked down at her built-to-fuck body, then over her shoulder to where her shredded clothing lie in a puddle of digestive fluids. With a flick of her fingers, she cut off her thong, which floated to the floor like a dead leaf. Her new tail sneaked between her legs to caress her swollen pussy lips. There was the creaking of hinges and Kel turned to see one of the two giggle-girls walk into the bathroom. Her look of shocked disgust mutated into horror when she saw the naked, demonic creature considering her from the sink. The spreading dark stain on her khakis revealed that the girl no longer needed to use the bathroom. Kel folded her wings and strutted up to the terrified young woman. The voice that emerged from her throat was like sandpaper and black wax. "Sorry, I'm not in the mood for water sports tonight," Kel said and licked the girl from collarbone to earlobe. The trembling creature shuddered and collapsed in a heap. Exiting the bathroom, Kel took a deep, cleansing breath and sauntered through the main room back to her place at the bar. Somebody in a corner booth whistled and said he liked her tits. Kel pinched the nipple on her left one and had to agree. The warm wood of the stool, worn perfectly smooth over the decades, felt divine on her bare ass and naughty parts. "So, how about that second beer?" the bartender returned, his wry smile unchanged from when she had walked in as an eighteen year old flower bud. "Sure," Kel pressed her thighs together and leaned forward, letting her tits droop onto the bar. She flexed her wings, feeling like a beautiful black rose. "And a double bourbon... I've had one hell of a night," THE END |
| Postscript:
After considerable effort, and a few unspeakable favors, I
was finally able to wrest the recipe for a Black Heart Killer
Orgasm
away from a cocktail waitress at the Ash. I have made some key
substitutions for reasons that I hope would be obvious; even though the
ingredients called for in the original recipe would certainly not be
easy to acquire. Black
Heart Killer Orgasm
1
1/2 oz Jagermeister
3/4 oz Goldschläger 1/2 tsp Cayenne Pepper Sauce Pour Jagermeister and Goldschläger in shaker with ice. Shake briefly and strain into a shot glass. Float hot pepper sauce on top and serve. |
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