IC: A Call

[Beesknees Bonearse]

A scratching sound unearthed the bitter silence of the night, ”scratch, scratch, scamper, scratch”, deep beneath the sodden earth where many tunnels spiraled their course below, catacombs of musky wet and unspeakable atrocities. Repugnance and disgust was nothing new to this filthy depraved critter of animalistic indulgences, barely ever paying to mind what it was doing only that at the time it seemed like the most natural, annoying thing to do. Squabbling with itself in the darkness had suddenly become rather boring, after all arguing with yourself does get monotonous after a short time and it seemed like the debate over how farting in your own presence is worse than farting in public. At least if you fart in public you can blame some other onion foul-smelling varmint, a pig, a dog or some rotten wench with hairy knees and droopy cabbage tits. Pus-festered tongue licked across cracked charcoal lips, he couldn’t help that his mind now run away with the imagery of hairy knees and cabbage tits, he hadn’t had a good suck on a purple rip nipple for quite some time and to say he hadn’t missed the throbbing of virulence between hinds and hooves would be a lie. It wasn’t as offensive when you were truthful, he preferred to rodger his way through the town like some gargoyle strutting after having visited the cities ugliest prostitute. Not even hell itself could stand the wandering hands and obvious advances that they had banished him to the world above, now he was the human’s problem, demons left him alone, the angels weren’t daring enough to trifle and well… Beesknees Bonearse simply whistled bothersome little tunes in high pitched disharmony because he knew that irritated them the most.

Now what does a creature of no importance do to get his rises? Of course, sodomize the goats, rape the sheep and do the farmer’s dogs doggie style. Heck the animals were better looking than the farmer’s wife so why be coy about a little bestiality amongst beasts? His rotting loins did crave a woman however, the musky scent of unwashed armpits and asses, never forgetting the moist region between the latter. ”Slurp” taste buds hungered for the taste, hands as they ripped through the soil flexing to reach other and tweak the pert breasts of the midnight crone. Speaking of crone’s, he though the scent of Baba Yaga and Sycorax had aroused his dirty little lust not to mention the hardness sticking out from the black hair covering the majority of his scrawny little hideous body. A very unattractive IT, regardless of that, Beesknees knew how to give it to the women and in his day he had torn the buds of many pretty maidens, of course they screamed a bit, then cried even more, however, between the horror moans had been heard and gentle thrusts felt beneath gnarled and clawing strokes of carnal sexual wrath. Rape had always been a favourite tradition amongst fiends, then again a creature such as Bonearse had to be careful, the scrotal sack was rather a delicate area to have some wench play pull and rip with.

Black matted fur glistening from the residue of dew and falling rain, clawed hands rising to the heavens above while naked form danced a dance of ridicule, hoof after hoof stomping at the ground while body twisted and turned. Maws parting as a loud, screeching howl erupted. Thundering through the forest to announce to any willing female that if she was willing to lay on her back, spread those legs like a nymphomaniac whore he was willing to dive through air in mid-thrust and really give those lips a good pounding, he had years to catch up on and wasn’t willing to leave it another minute. Lunging at the haunches, shoulders slamming through the undergrowth with flaring nostrils to the wind, he knew that damn house on chicken legs had to be around here somewhere, Beesknees could smell that sex a mile away, the thought of it drove him insane. Running through the forest with a massive boner ”Babbbbba Yagaaaaa, Dewwwwwwiniaethhhhhhh, Syyyyycorrrraxxxx, iow wanna tasteeeeeee yer muffcaves!!!! Owrrrrrrrr comeonnnnnn yer know yer wanttttttt myyyyyy hugeeeee sausage deeeep in yer meattttt grinders!!!!!” ~pant pant pant~ Tongue flagging in the wind like the horndog he is, Beesknees wanted action, and by the Devil he was going to have it…Baba, Dewiniaeth or Sycorax would do, even both, he wanted to hear them moan like bitches hung to the Gallows while his massive 4ft powered rammed viciously between the billowing lips of their quivering twats, all three of them. Shivering with eagerness he bellowed one last time with his fluttering mating call”Grrrrarrrrggghhhhhharrrrrrooooooooooo-grrr grrrr” Would either haggis’s return his call of flaring pain, not only from his burning cock of heaven’s fire but also the hemorrhoids larger than eggs as well that banged together like symbols each time his pelvis thrusted forwards and legs kicked up dancing the highland jig.

[Sycorax]

[align=center]Twas the night before Christmas
and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring
She'd molested the mouse...[/align]

"Not very satisfying are yer little mouse... oi oi oi, Oi thought yr could a wriggled when oi shoved yer in me knickers fer a few minutes longer, but no, yer had ter go an die din't ya..." A gnarled hand reached down and scratched beneath the voluminous robes, finding the giant crotch cricket that had been bungee jumping from the perilous hair that covered the shriveled wrinkly twat and popping it. "Gawd I needs me a good ferkin... oi oi oi, me twat is shrivellen from lack a use... aha, oi knows whats ter do..."

Standing swiftly, the creak of floorboards under her massive weight as the house shuddered in bearing the obesity of wrinkly wench (who sadly had tried using chocolate a a substitute for sex and had a nymphomaniacs appetites) waddling to get a small mouldy cauldron, shaking the frogs corpses out then reaching to a shelf over head and pulling down a jar of dehydrated purple people eater penis, a handful of old mans goobers, (basically dried mixed nuts) a couple of cups of camel sprog, or ground arab semen (seamen who knows) and reaching down between those scabby, mung infested thighs, she pulled a single shriveled twisty shite encrusted hair from that mangy minge. Setting the cauldron down, Sycorax placed all the ingredients in then promptly forgot what she was doing, peering in (her sight was shite) the words... "Oi oi oi, am oi making soup, looks delicious" then as the itch in her ditch hit again "Er yer silly old twat, yer makin' a spell." Digging round she found a wooden spoon and a rasping, crusty hawking of a gobbet of something alive spat from her lips into the mix then began stirring...

[align=center]"Me twat does itch
the horny bitch
Oi need some luck
ter git a fuck
Some purple dick
ter bring a prick
some lovely balls
ter squeeze n all
Some dried up cum
from a camels bum
ter make it hot
hair from me twat
an finally goo
oh yes please ooooh
an all so quick
bring me a dick..."[/align]

A puff of pungent green smoke, smelling like a rotten egg fart and Sycorax cackled viciously... just at that moment her hearing picked up the call of Beesknees... "Oi oi oi, and I havent even trimmed me nose hairs... that was fast," looking into the cauldron, and seeing the studly figure with his perilous prong, so virile, so strong, and he had a cock... thats all she required. A quiver running up her legs as a part of her that had been drier then any desert for so long suddenly sprung a gusher in anticipation... "OI'ma comin' me lovey... OI'ma comin' (and that thought I wont explain as it makes me feel sick in the stomach) Her broom, shaking in fear was grabbed and she straddled it in obvious pleasure, then changing her mind as she wanted to save her pleasure for later, waved an obtuse gesture and vanished, moments later to appear at the entrance of Beesknees home.... "Oi am here me lover... come an get yer reward"

[The Grave Squabbler]

[align=center]’Tic…Tick…Flick’ [/align]

[align=justify:ec087ec168]Velveteen ears perking to the abrupt sound of someone thrashing and stomping about on the roof of ITS hutch. Hind quarters flinching to scratch off as wayward flea that had somehow managed to escaped the fusion of gas and shit beneath Baba Yaga’s chicken house that was now motionless in the center of a lush pine forest. The squabbler had waited, dug deep beneath the belly of the witch just to wait for the right moment to surface, ruin all of her hard toils by digging up the herb and vegetable patch, piss all over the potatoes, bringing new meaning to ‘straining the potatoes’. Bunny-poo on the pumpkins wrecking any chance of kid-ney beans and pumpkin pies; Sycorax’s favorite. Nothing would touch those when half mutilated by feral animal excrements to the likes of a toddler x zombie x bunny. Foul green sludge, burning and scolding to poison everything with the plague of zombie infestation, to that the likes of Baba Yaga herself could become diseased. Not that she wasn’t already, old moldy sperm hydra that she was. The squabbler could not help not seethe with a loathing only a rabbit could know, both the fugly wenches would fall to its evil bunny intentions. Teeth gnawing together as a high-pitched voice squeaked from the darkness, like nails running the length down the chalkboard or metal scraping against metal ”Fwirst chu get tah carrotssssss, ‘den chu get da woooooominnnn!”

’Scratch, scratch, sniff, sniff’ Muzzle scrunching up with discord and disgust for the fragrance that wafted, intruding the more pleasant smells of rotting carrots that had long been horded from other plunders of the villagers vegetable gardens. ’Thumb thump’ then the awful tone of some male hollering through the forest like some vagabond lost to delirium. The squabbler couldn’t believe ITS ears! Some clouted elf-skinned giglet lunatic was actually looking to court these two clack dishes? Ears flinching to determine the location while long buck-tooth fangs emerged behind leathered, furless maws, giving an evil grimace then hatching a sinister plan (dramatic drum roll, while giving shifty eyes) IT would steal all their precious carrots, plant them on the bootless pottle-deep maggot-pie, and hope that in Baba Yaga’s state of fury, yielding that mammering boil-brained bladder wand of hers, and screw up just like she did the last using it. Wave it around with a menacing ’Swoosh!!!!! and turn this blundering nitwit into HIS bitch. Ah, perish the thought., the Squabbler had no condoms!!

”Nerrrrpppp!!!!” IT exclaimed in disgust, dry-humping Scycorax’s leg didn’t work, the fat bulging up around the circumference of her legs kept wobbling about like jello in someone’s underpants, breaking momentum. Have you tried sticking your wing-dangle into a bowl of jelly? Or your pox-marked ratsbane into a bowl of cold porridge? No? then The Squabbler suggests you try it, ’once you go for custard crack, you’ll never go back’ Tip’o’the’day from the perverted zombie x brat x rabbit. ”Nerrrrppppp! Venom’d ewarth-vvvvvvvexing puttockkkkkkzzzzz!” Damning the darkness and all in between, a patchy paw of rotting flesh and fur rising to curse the topsoil, then hoping it wouldn’t curse IT back by caving in, this little abomination had a twisted sense of luck, the opposite to the Leprechaun who had gold trapped away to rub its dirty little hands over, deviously. The Squabbler had a large pile of festering, fermenting carrots that he had to eat, rip shit or bust! That is why its farts could knock down even Baba Yaga at 10 paces and kill any vegetation within a 10 mile radius, found that out the hard way. One wry bunny fart and you’re history, remember that kids.

Gathering mighty bunny speed, bouncing through the burrow while ears went ’Flip, flop, flip, flop” behind IT front legs tucked up while back thudded loudly against the sodden soil until finally a patch of twilight blue lit up the exit. Then. OUT!!!! it burst like a dildo out a cat’s bum. Fluffy white tail gleaming in the moonlight, stopping here and there while muzzle sniffed the air, moving here, there and then there again, picking up the sense of a feral cat in heat. ”SNIFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF SNORT SNORT’ ”Nerrrrrffffffffff! Oiw ‘fink I found a putty-tat!!! Swelffffff saucingggggg toooo….mippp mippp mipppetyyy mip!!!” Quickly shaking ITS little head to dispel the imagery of bonking a cat while ripping its legs and tail off, swiftly edging its way to the clearing of Baba Yaga’s happy little household, the chicken house sleeping, spells being cooked and a fresh bunch of carrots calling out to IT like a loose twat in a whore house flapping its wet curtains like a mongooses mating call. ”Haw-haw chu carrrottzzz, now chu shall beeeee mine! Mwahahaha!” Instantly the creature leapt to do its most foul work yet, digging out carrots. Carrots flying through the air only to land in a very artistic pile behind him. Left leg cocked, foul-smelling discharge spurting out to garnish the vegetables with acidic substance causing them to pick up their roots, running and screaming, then suddenly dying.

Tail elevated, haunches straining to churn out vomitious mass of rotten carrot and meat sludge, back legs pushing while the front legs slowly moved IT from one spot to another, deliberately spreading the love, not even sparing a single leaf before wiping its asshole on the doormat then skittering off to gather carrots and unleash the last of ITS devious deed. Grabbing a red clock of some silly cows line, draping it over ITS shoulders, nabbing a mop’s white cotton rags, placing it on ITS head, a wicker basket and placing the carrots inside, then skipping off through the forest basket brimful of yummy fresh carrots. ’Sniff, SNIFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFf!!! knowing the male suitor was extremely close, face changing, morphing into a more pleasant tone of supple skin and female, teeth retracting back into the skull as perky little lips began to sing out ”Carrotssssss! Get your yummy fresh carrottttsssss hereeeee! onlyyyyyyy 50 centtttttttz!”[/align:ec087ec168]

[Beesknees Bonearse]

Now, another hottie had come into this sick little sum of fanny farts and itchy arses, Beesknees was totally in his element of kinkiness and odd fetish fads that only aroused his queer little quirks for sodomy, not to mention other delights unspoken. However, HARK! there was a strange smell on the horizon. Beesknees sniffed at the air, nostrils drawn back, lip peeling back to reveal the rows of black teeth, well where there was teeth that is and not spacing gaps that oddly looked like piano keys. Air whistling through the many cracks, stagnant wind blowing out to erase the festerding scent that made even Beesknees gag and splutter. -cough-weeze-fart-gurgle- another onslaught of rude noises following insync to the first, what a foul melody it was too, and still it did not chase away this other smell that seemed to gather thicker as they skipped through the woods with left hand up the back of Baba's frock and right down the front of Sycoraxs going for the two-hand shuffle *squeeze, grope, squeeze, prod* It was the slimy things curling and nibbling on his fingers that only turned him on, but finally silence could not be kept.

Stopping suddenly, nearly knocking both fiesty wenches from their boots from the sudden jerk and slip into deeper crevices between Baba's buttock. "Oh crap!!" a moments pause "Literally", yes it was a big word for Beesknees (so do not get used to it), hand quickly retreating from cold, smelly cave his fingers and fist had just fallen into in case a Yeti or other monster bit it off. Keeling over from ther stench and casually wiping the remnants of turd, corn and nuts from his fingers then raising them to his teeth and picking out the sneaky bits that managed to get behind his crusty yellow nails. "Wot izzzz dat gord-awful STENCH!!" again sniffing at the air, beady eyes scanning from left to right in search of the tresspasser with the deadthly obnoxious buttgas that reeked of turnips and carrots. "Bunnay fartzzzzz!!" The sound dawned like gospel, high-pitched through the woods as birds flew in all directions obviously startled by the goblin and his band of whorish friends looking to get down and nasty in the moss. -flutter-flutter-flutter- some even that tormented they flew into the trees just to end it swiftly. Feathers and suicide. "INVISIBLE BUNNAY FARTZZZZZ CAN ONLY MEAN ONE THING!!!!!!" he yelled, the sound travelling from his bowels to vocal chords startling Baba that she slipped on the moss and landed with a loud THUD against the forest florage.

"INVISIBLE BUNNAY FARTZZZZ MEAN THIS FOREST IS HAUNTED BY THE WEE LITTLE BASTARDS!!!!" it was then that this other squeeky little voice sung out from behind a rock and this lil person skipped on buy with a basket of carots and a wiry smirk on its little lips. ”Carrotssssss! Get your yummy fresh carrottttsssss hereeeee! onlyyyyyyy 50 centtttttttz!” Tilting his head from side to side looking the wee creature over then bending down to sniff at the carrots, taking a deep breath only to have eyes rolls to the backof his head and fall backwards, landing on the top of Baba as she stuggled to get up. A look of horror pasted against his face, stunned from the violating rotten stench produced by that nasty concotion of poisonous carrots designed to knock out even the foul beasties like Trolls and Ogre's. Beeknees didn't stand a chance, and now there he lay, spread eagled and wearing no panties- what a sick twist of fate indeed.

[Sycorax]

"Oi..." Sniff "Oi"... Sniff "Oi" Sniff.

A coughing fit shook the bulbuous belly belying the atrocity of imagined womanhood (after all, it had been so long since Sycorax had a figure, only a really sick and depraved imagination could even consider her womanly) as the waves of carrot induced anti euphoric washed over the earth, scalding vegetation to the point where trees frantically tried to uproot themselves to flee, rocks just crumbled into sand, birds fell dead from their perches and a nearby river, turned tail and flowed uphill back to where it came from... Leaning forwards and lifting the swollen mass of one flabby arm she sniffed neath her armpit for some fresh air, then came back out her eyes watering... "Oi well it aint me then" Taking a deep breath through nostrils that threatened to coagulate shut permanently then coughing until her twat let rip with a resonating fanny fart "Oi, you ferking carrot infested, leprous regurgitated piece of crap...." then gasping as the man of her dreams toppled like an oak struck by lightening she began jumping up and down while swearing in terms so blistering that several grass fires started in her mangy minge...

The thing is with a woman like Sycorax, because of the... wierd diet she indulged in... there were a lot of things in her guts that really shouldn't be shaken, and deep within the bulging bowels a slow insidious bubbling began... Sycorax was old school and she firmly believed in the adage of fighting fire... with fire! Or in this instance, the sickening scent of Squabblers stench with some little concoction of her own, besides if Beesknees Bonearse could tolerate banging on Baba Yaga then a Sycorax ripsnorter would most probably reinvigorate him back to full manliness...

She continued bouncing, her bowels fermenting in furious perversion, buildups of oily sweat formulating under her sodden armpits, loose flaccid breasts slapping against rancid skin, crotch crickets commiting suicide by the thousands at the fumigation to come down below, for it was spoken in crotch cricket legend, in hushed tones by the old ones, that when Sycorax let rip, she usually ended up hairless, airless and quite often tore the skin away from round her asshole in raging wildfire...

Turning her now violently quivering posterior in the direction the wind had blown the specialist scent of stewed sulphourous carrot, leaning forwards and squinting her heavily watering eyes, lips pursing in a profound grimace of anticipation, a final bubble lurking in the lower bowel then... 'brrrrrrr...rrrrrrrr....rrrrrrrr....rrrrrrr...rrrrrr...aaaaaaaappppppppppppppp' (kind of like a vee eight engine on a really cold morning that really dont want to start finally getting going and having the clappers revved out of it) the back of her sacking dress catching flame, her eyes widening as face went a deep crimson then sploosh, pop, crackle, thud, sploosh as her bowels followed through... "oooops me lovelies, oi tink me cornstipation is fixed" the scent having emerged a cross between leprous meat, stale beer, vomit, skunk juice and rotting minge... turning to sniff, both her eyebrows losing their grip on reality and going up in smoke, as too the minge, so carefully unpruned for a hundred years vanishing in a yelping fit of hairball madness, ( this was as close to personal hygiene as Sycorax had gotten in a long time).  Looking over to where Beesknees lay, she waddled forwards, leaning to cop a feel while he was unconscious... "Oi Oi Oi such a lovely piece o puddin, wouldna mind him puddin his piece somewheres warm and slushy" an evil cackle forthcoming... the remembering what was going on she stood shaking her fist in the direction of the carrot munching furball of desecration... "Stop spoiling me fun, wasnt me ferked you up you zombie mung bean rarebit..." her voice lowering "or was it, oi cant remember me brains is fried with carrotistic combustions..." Then diverted by the one thing she craved above all others, the sight of a male with no duds, she promptly forgot the smell and went back to groping Beesknees and Baba Yaga after all, a girl had to take what she could get, and if you looked and smelt like Sycorax... that wasn't much... not much at all...

[Baba Yaga]

[align=justify:bbc7e36973] urgh... urgh...urgh Inaudible words escaping between snaggle-tooth and slurping tongue as it swooshed around, puffs of cracked flesh, encrusted lips of pus and boil. The knock down from that saucy goblin really packed a wallop, especially when dangle bits touched even more dangle curtains of filth, pepper of frog, the oak of manhood and cracker crumbs. Even the duck that she had stuffed up her britches many moons ago, finally broke free with a loud and audible "QUACKKKKKKKK!!!", a waft of feathers "PUFF!!!", the old crone stirring with pelvic thrusts against the bone of bonearse; hips swaying, fat swinging and between the loud muffled moans a quirky statement sung out and the woods trembled with the revelation "Oi, oi, oi... my duck went quack!", again the duck retorted "QUACK!"

Nose twitching, eyes rolling back as nostrils flared, a snort produced only to wheeze and splutter, maggots, boogers and bugs flew outwards, smothering Sycorax in a lovely coat of mucas-lime green. "Ere yer old cumwagon, howz 'bout fartin' in somewun elses general directions, eh? Tout'd'tout, aye-yi-yi-i!". Left hand hurriedly fanning away the pungent gas of troll balls, bat penis and onion rings mixed with a herbal infusion of Stinkweed, Whoresbreath... unfortunately Dungweed as well. Baba Yaga couldn't think what she was doing eating such a mix of unhealthy concoctions but could only guess Sycorax must have serious constipation- maybe from using the plunger too often to snake out bum grubs for tea parties, after all nothing makes a tea party better than bum grub bumblebee cakes. She slurped at the thought of it, even her stomach gave a bubbling rumble. How could she think of food at a time like this? A male hot-to-trot and a horny old witch to boot. ''eaven" she thought to herself as right hand went in for a feel of Sycorax's saggy bits.

"Oi... me thinks a'found snapping turtle!!" quickly retreating her hand from under Sycorax's kilt, jumping up and stomping around the moss as if trying to snuff a bushfire, loud "Ow...ow...ow!!" following the dance of the Fat Witches Hat and somewhere inbetween Satan's Ball Jig; it was a terrible, frightful sight to witness. Thunder thighs clashing, huge buns jigging about beneath her attire of tight black and stockings ten sizes too small that it made the fat rolls bulge over her sides as they rolled and jellied. "'ere yer got snapping turtles up yer kilt yer mad bint!!! near bit me soddin' fist off... ow... ow.....ow.......owwwwwwie!" Accidently she trod on the rabbit that was offering to sell carrots "'Ere Sycorax grab 'im, dem carrots could come in handy for sex toyz! GRAB EM' ALL'O'DEM!!!" Trying to grab the rabbit as it farted but misjudging, and tumbling cunt up and knocking Sycoax over like a bowling ball. "Ahhhhhhh yer stupid wenchhhh, not me, get dat damn rabbbit's carrots, pluck 'im, fuck 'im if yer must... JIST GET DEM DAMNNNNN CARROTZZZZZ!!!"[/align:bbc7e36973]