Wyrm Caught
The girl walked confidently across the grass, eyes focussed somewhere in the middle distance. It was all street-theatre, a liquid origami trick of effortless grace. She slipped between the random bystanders, at times almost seeming to occupy the very space they had claimed. But she was a zephyr, unnoticed, except in her passing.
He watched. Eyes bright and cruel, as she paused. Tanned arms reached up toward the heavens, fingers splayed with the effort. The stretch lifted her crop top, revealing almond butter skin and a slash of darker pigment.
Shifting restlessly from one foot to another, he ignored the newcomer as she sidled ever closer. His eyes were focussed on the girl and the way her shorts clung hungrily to the swell of those ripe buttocks.
“So,” the other began, her voice carrying the darkness of ground obsidian, “She’s the one?”
Corvus didn’t turn, but bowed his head slightly in mute acknowledgement. The cat in turn stared out across the park, with only the slow thrash of her tail to give any hint of her inner irritation.
“So it would appear,” the old bird acknowledged.
The cat’s tail paused in its relentless back and forth. She turned to look at him, her eyes already glinting savagely.
“You don’t know?” she whispered, and from the tone of her voice he could tell she was taking in his moth-eaten and flea-bitten appearance.
“No,” Corvus croaked, scattering dark feathers in his anger, “I don’t do certainty…”
Gleaming like oil in the fading light, plumage spun slowly to the ground. The cat simply sat and watched, its tail eerily silent. The raven sunk its talons into the rotten wood, plucking and picking at the wet splinters.
“She won’t want you,” the cat said very softly.
“No,” the raven agreed, “But she will need me!.”
With that, the bird’s silhouette seemed to twist and warp. Shadows stretched to infinitely thin spokes as the wheel spun itself into a slate-grey blur. The disc folded in on itself, disappearing in a soundless explosion of errant feathers.
She blinked her emerald eyes in distaste and then, with an imperious shrug of her muscular shoulders, the cat leapt down from the fence and stalked away.
The baseline thudded dully through the earbuds and Caroline let the rhythm drive her. Soft, spongy grass gave way to brittle concrete, while the effort burned beneath the jogger’s ribcage. She blinked the stinging sweat from her eyes and squinted at the narrow bridge.
Shit, but she was out of condition.
Caroline winced, trying to fight through the pain. Somewhere in the distance a clock struck one, but the lunchtime rush had already started. If she could just get past the small crowd of suits then she’d be fine. But the stitch wasn’t about to make it easy for her.
She slowed, hardly daring to breath against the sharpness of that discomfort. Just two more steps would take her beyond their shiny, faux Armani and knock-off Blackberries.
Please don’t say anything. Please don’t notice me.
“Damn!” the voice cut across the busy hubbub, nasal and grating. “I gots to get me some o’ dat!”
Fuck!
His friends laughed indulgently. But, in comparison, that was just a minor irritation. Caroline had already come to a standstill. A deep flush burned into her cheeks as she slowly turned toward the suddenly startled businessman.
Bravado warred with anxiety across his pallid features, clearly unsure what she intended. But, surrounded as he was by a soothing blanket of testosterone, Caroline could already tell which way he’d jump.
Double Fuck!
“How much?” he guffawed after a moment, much to the amusement of his cronies.
She felt her mouth quirk into a half-smile and winced inwardly. Confidence flowed through Caroline’s body, straightening her posture while leaving her mind untouched. The other suits nudged each other and made childishly expectant noises. But the loud mouth was clearly discomforted and that was about to get a whole lot worse.
Very deliberately she plucked loose the earbuds and let them tumble free. Her eyes bored into his and unaccustomedly sharp words tripped toward her tongue.
“How much have you got?”
His hand had already slipped inside his jacket before he really registered the question. The audience hooted, unaware of the panic flashing across their friend’s sweaty features. He fumbled with the cracked leather wallet, all but spilling notes and plastic in his apparent eagerness.
Caroline’s hand reached out and snagged the folded money. She could see her own confusion and despair mirrored in the man’s face and, just for a moment, felt the stirrings of sympathy.
“This much,” she suggested slyly, tucking the crisp fifties into her cleavage, “will get you a handjob…”
With a grace she had never possessed, Caroline stretched out one hand and pressed her palm into the centre of his chest. Very slowly, she slid it down over his unpleasant tie and to the waistband of his trousers. All the while she held him with her gaze, watching as he squirmed in place, sweat beading his brow.
The silence grew more intense as his friends simply stood and gaped. Clearly, no one could believe that this was happening and, faced with the impossibility, none of them had any idea how to react. The wet rasp as his belt came undone was loud enough, but the moan he gave when she tugged down his trousers was far louder.
“Actually,” she husked, staring down at the erection tenting his paisley boxers, “why don’t we sweeten the deal with a little plastic?”
He made a soft gurgling whine, somewhere deep in the back of his throat and it faded into a strangled gasp when she gently eased the shorts down over his straining penis. Caroline snatched the wallet from his hand and made a big show of rippling through the credit cards.
“This one looks about my size,” she simpered, holding up a gold card and idly fanning herself. “You can tell me the PIN if you want to.”
“1966,” he whimpered, his whole body trembling.
“Thank you,” Caroline giggled, already turning away. “Let me top myself up. I’ll be back before you know it, to give you a damn good seeing to!”
His swollen manhood gave an urgent twitch and she had to stifle her giggles as she started to jog away. She left him standing there, bared to the waist and ramrod straight, still surrounded by his friends. They watch her go, all apparently prepared to believe that she would be back any moment.
The first cry of dismay didn’t come until she had rounded the corner. Caroline accelerated down the cobbled street, letting fear add its wings to her desperate flight. Darting left and right, she worked to lose herself in the maze of side streets, finally coming to a halt at the entrance to a covered market.
Looking down in distaste at the stolen credit card, she knew it had to be disposed of. But, try as she might, Caroline simply couldn’t will herself to let the small rectangle of plastic drop through her fingers.
What the hell am I doing?
But Caroline already knew what her plan was and no amount of effort made any impression on her resolve. She was going to find a cash point and drain every last penny from the man’s account. For no other reason than because he’d been an arsehole.
She felt her mouth twist into a savage grin, and the delight she felt was almost enough to overwhelm her self-loathing.
It was raining by the time she climbed the steps to her flat’s front door. Caroline fumbled noisily with the keys, scratching the brass fittings as she tried to work the antique lock. The wedge of bank notes distorted her curves and the stiff paper chaffed against her nipples.
Oh, please let that not have happened!
The door finally gave way and she half-fell into the communal corridor, stumbling through the pile of junk mail and free newspapers. The faint scent of incense struggled to drown out the rotten-vegetable waft of weed, while somewhere upstairs the landlady could be heard have frantic, animal sex, presumably with her latest paramour.
Caroline stepped gingerly past the bicycles propped in the hall and swiftly unlocked the door to her flat. Only when she was safely inside, with the door locked and bolted, did the young woman finally allow herself to relax.
She tore the sweat-stained bills free, and let them rain to the floor. Anger rose up unbidden, colouring her emotions with a kind of savage joy. Excitement tingled through her muscles, quashing the knotted ache of over-exertion and further confusing her fatigued thoughts.
A gentle shudder shook Caroline’s body and an unexpected warmth followed in its wake. The look on the suit’s face had been priceless. His inability to resist her slightest whim had a far stronger sexual charge than she could ever remember experiencing.
Damn, but I’m horny!
It would be so easy. Just to let go and allow her influence to spread. She could almost feel the other residents. Even without trying. Their presence was a soft irritant, and Caroline already knew just how good it was going to feel when she reached out to scratch.
Her thighs ground restlessly together, sticky with sweat and half-conscious arousal. Idly she ran her fingers over the damp material of her crop-top. Sharp nails found the swell of her tender nipples and she gasped in delighted surprise.
Caroline’s awareness stretched outward, while the nails grazed steadily lower. Brushing against something hot and wanton, she let her eyes drift closed and tried to picture what she was feeling.
Two bodies crushed together somewhere overhead, grinding and pumping in noisy abandon. Caroline’s fingers slipped into her shorts, as her mind stole effortlessly into the couple’s thoughts. She gave a little moan, pressing against her swollen mound and slithering beneath their awareness.
What the fuck am I doing?
But it didn’t matter. Her voice was tiny and it echoed away to nothing, only to be lost in the vastness. Caroline’s fingers didn’t care. They flickered over hot flesh, before she buried them to the knuckle between her pouting lips. A scream roared through the building. It started somewhere deep in Caroline’s throat but was then picked up by Ms. Katz, who proceeded to howl out her pleasure for all to hear.
She claimed them and rode them, adding her mind to their medley and giving it shape. Her fingers stroked back and forth, pinning and teasing her sensitised clit with one hand, while the other plunged in and out of that oozing heat.
They strained against her, suddenly aware that something was wrong. Both spent and nearing exhaustion, she ruthlessly pushed them on, delighting in the futility of their resistance. Caroline was in charge and she was going to impress that fact upon them until it became undeniable.
Her thoughts wrapped around the young man’s flaccid member, ignoring his feeble protests as it reluctantly engorged. She shifted her attention minutely, easing his partner onto her back and spreading her for him. Their moans turned to whimpers, fear adding darker currents to the growing arousal and Caroline found herself savouring the unnatural spice.
Like two conjoined puppets, the pair followed her desires, mirroring her fingers fluttering progress as she gave them the rhythm they needed. She forced the pleasure upon them, making them enjoy each helpless thrust and exhausted, sweaty collision. And, when it finally came, her own orgasm was triggered by their utter and quite abject surrender.
Urgent hammering sought to rouse her from the post-orgasmic stupor. Caroline gave a pained groan and flinched as the noise continued to pound at her. She rolled clumsily to her feet, dragging her aching limbs and blinking stupidly in the half-light.
She could feel someone just beyond the flat door, but the sense of them was fuzzy and indistinct. Caroline pushed at them, summoning what little conviction she could muster and willing the unwelcome presence to bugger off. In response the banging seemed to grow even more aggressive.
Muttering curses, Caroline stumbled toward the door. She tugged at her soiled jogging gear, trying unsuccessfully to conceal the evidence of her most recent indiscretion. Angrily she threw the heavy bolts and then flung the door open.
A short man stood in the hallway, his hand raised in a fist and clearly ready to strike the door again. His clothing was formal, almost archaic and the material of his heavy coat shimmered like oil on water. She stared at him for a moment, the angry rebuke she had prepared frozen on her tongue. Even this close she still couldn’t get a proper sense of him.
“Miss Gauge,” he smiled, and the expression seemed to soften the sharpness of his features. “I have a matter of grave importance that I need to discuss with you. May I come in?”
Caroline looked into his bright eyes and could almost convince herself that she had seen a hint of understanding there. The anger swelled immediately, fighting to dampen down her hope and push those unwelcome thoughts back down into the cloying darkness.
But this time she wasn’t prepared to go so easily. Instead she forced herself to give a curt nod, muscles bunching against the desire to give in, and then stepped aside. The invitation was clear and her guest wasted no time in stepping across the threshold.
Much to Caroline’s consternation, he closed and locked the door behind him, effectively trapping them both in the small flat. All the while, she could feel some part of herself stroking against the smooth surface of his presence, searching for a purchase she just couldn’t find.
“Please forgive me. But there is little time for the social niceties,” he continued after a moment, turning from the door and once again meeting her gaze. “My name is Corvus and it is vital that I speak with you now, before the assimilation is complete.”
“Assimilation?” she echoed, her voice almost strangled by the effort that took her.
“You’re becoming,” the man explained cryptically. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed the changes.”
Instinct demanded that she silence this maniac. But she barely recognised the place that aggression was coming from. He knew something and that was worth fighting for. Caroline bit down on the sensations assailing her and tried to make her tongue work.
“What’s happening to me?” she asked, her voice barely audible.
He opened his mouth to speak and something shifted. Caroline’s breath came in a sharp hiss as anger merged seamlessly with the sweeter taste of desire. Flames played over her skin, teasing the flesh into a shiver of instant arousal.
Corvus’ eyes went very wide and he took a quick step backward. She could suddenly feel his proximity, as though the sense of him had abruptly sharpened into focus. Caroline gave a soft, guttural groan and the heat flared, lapping sensuously between her parted thighs.
“Metamorphosis,” the man answered tightly, his expression strained, “and even faster than I’d expected.”
Another jolt of excitement sang through her and Caroline let it draw her down onto her knees. Viciously she tore at the hem of her shorts, stretching the tight material and exposing her neatly trimmed sex. She rested back, splaying her legs wide and picturing how her lust would pierce his defences.
“I don’t understand,” she whined weakly, as with her free hand she began to slowly massage the burning flesh.
With the tips of her fingers she traced a soft, slippery line down the very centre of her swollen lips. Up and down, moving almost painfully slowly and relishing the gradual tightening of her scalding hot pussy. Up and down, watching the man’s face and the effort it was costing him merely to stay in place.
“Who are you?” Caroline asked, but this time it was someone else’s question.
The man ground his teeth together, fighting against her compulsion. Caroline could see what the effort cost him, and smiled cruelly as his trousers began to stretch against his growing erection. She crooked one finger, scraping her nail across the length of her clit, scratching the throbbing nub with practiced eased.
His knees buckled and he almost fell. But somehow Corvus found the strength to stay upright.
“Aw, don’t you want to come down here and taste me?” she suggested softly, indicating just how open and aroused she was. “That’s not very flattering, now is it? Perhaps I need to try a little harder to convince you?”
Once again she scratched her nails over the taut flesh, delighting in the way that sharp contact caught hold of her oozing cunt and clenched. This time Corvus’ legs simply collapsed, dropping him to the floor. He sprawled before her, squirming in place for a moment before he raised his head and found himself gazing into the drooling depths of her pussy.
“Fuck me,” she whispered, letting the words drip lewdly from her tongue. “Fuck me with your face.”
Scrambling closer, he nuzzled against her legs. Corvus moaned as his cheek brushed against her thigh and then she was guiding his hands up to the waistband of her shorts. She squirmed, wriggling out of the torn material while he clung on and panted.
Trapped inside her own mind, Caroline screamed obscenities. He had been about to tell her what was wrong with her. If she’d been really lucky he might even have known the cure.
Needless obscurantic drivel! Why the fuck did you have to be so obtuse?
But there was nothing to be done. She could only stare into his pained expression and silently urge him to be stronger.
Unable to escape her grip on his mind, Corvus had no option but to do as he was told. Caroline took his head in her hands and guided him toward her sopping sex. The smell of her filled his lungs, swirling darkly around his mind and tainting everything with sympathetic lust.
Puffy lips loomed close, their dusky skin glistening with spent arousal. She bore down onto his face, sealing his mouth and nose against the heat of her eager cuntlips. Corvus groaned, his desire re-echoing in the depths of that succulent furnace.
He hadn’t expected her to be this strong, not this soon. And that mistake was going to cost him.
As his tongue coiled itself around her swollen clit and, he fought not to hump himself against the faded carpet, Corvus finally reached out with a power of his own. Trapped by his tormentor’s unexpected strength, his body continued to obey. He could already feel his mind starting to slip away and, much as he might wish otherwise, his only hope was to hasten that process.
Corvus sunk his teeth into Caroline’s tender flesh, nibbling and gnawing at the slick flesh. His tongue swirled in the spice of her arousal, painting lurid promise over every cleft and fold. And, as the tone of her answering groans began to soften, he forced himself to let go.
“Caroline,” a voice whispered in the darkness.
She jerked in surprise, though her body remained stubbornly beyond her control. A thick cocoon of sensation held her utterly immobile, trapped within her thoughts and unable to do more than spectate.
“Will you help me?” it continued, and Caroline glanced around her searching for whoever had spoken.
“Who are you?”
“Corvus,” the voice sighed, more weary than she could believe.
“What do you want from me?” she asked, not quite understanding her own caution.
“I need you to let me in,” Corvus explained, “to stop fighting me and allow me fully into your mind.”
“But I’m not…” she began.
“I need you to try,” he interrupted quickly, “we really don’t have much time.”
Now she thought about it, Caroline realised that she was gradually losing her hold on the world around her. It felt as though she were becoming steadily less real, as though she were losing her solidity. For now she was stuck in a corner of her own mind, but soon she would be no more than a memory and perhaps eventually, not even that.
“Okay,” she decided. “What do I do?”
“Just open yourself,” he suggested, “I can’t really explain, but you already know how it’s done.”
Caroline took a deep breath, letting force of habit settle some of her anxiety. Corvus believed she knew what she was doing, but that was cold comfort. Her sense of Corvus was fragmentary at best, and tied inextricably into the climax she was building toward. The thoughts spiralled away as she grasped that, lost almost immediately in the deep blanket of ecstatic distractions.
His impossibly deft tongue flickered against Caroline’s molten core, tingling with agonised precision and setting her whole being aflame. Sharp teeth pinched and stretched, pulling and teasing the slippery flesh. She felt her body arch, bowing against the perfect sensations as desire wound itself through her spinal cord.
“It’s too much!” she howled.
“No,” Corvus urged gently, “You’re stronger than you think. You can do it.”
She tried to push aside the pleasure and instead refocused on the sense of him. For a long moment there was nothing and then she caught the barest hint of something gleaming nearby. Her thoughts were growing threadier and it seemed madness to even think of stopping her struggles. But what other choice had she?
If it didn’t work she would have only hastened the inevitable. And, it wasn’t as if she had a better plan of her own.
Ignoring the spectre of that clever tongue, Caroline concentrated on the link between what was left of her and the glittering shard she now recognised as Corvus. Only a strand connected them, the finest of threads. But, if she focussed on it and imagined pouring herself through the narrow conduit, Caroline found that it could be opened a little wider.
She sensed that Corvus was holding his tongue and wished that his body would do the same. He didn’t want to risk adding to her distractions and for that at least, she was profoundly grateful.
A pulse of purest pleasure ignited the nerves at the base of her spine, and Caroline knew that the orgasm it presaged would dash away any last hope of recovering herself. She fought against the rising panic, knowing that she had to stay focussed. Her muscles began to tighten and she could feel her breathing growing slow and deep as she eased ever closed.
The image of that connecting thread yawned wide and Caroline let her entirety flow into its gaping mouth. For an instant that seemed to stretch onward into infinity, she lay there, balanced on the cusp. And then she tipped over and plunged down into the beckoning oblivion.
Bliss engulfed her, surrounding and holding her frail form as she bucked and thrashed in complete abandon. At some point, Caroline realised that she was back in the driving seat, but there was too much else vying for her attention for that to seem important.
Feathers rained down on her, glossy black quills whose points prickled and stung. She thrust wildly, searching for that face to hump against, longing to impale her spasming cunt on the length of his maddening tongue.
In the fractured confusion of her peri-orgasmic fervour, the images she glimpsed had a dreamlike quality that did not lend itself to understanding. A large crow stood beside her, something pallid and bulbous wriggling in its beak. Two shackled minds sobbed in the darkness, only for their chains to be shattered and, in the distance, grubby thoughts melted into something far more refined and acceptant.
“Caroline,” a voice croaked.
She turned her head and found herself looking into the beady eyes of a mangy bird.
“Corvus?” she guessed, reassessing her first impression. Not a crow, but a raven of all things.
“You’re safe now,” he nodded, talons scratching at the thick carpet. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Caroline told him, sitting up slowly and wincing at the dizziness that small movement triggered. “But I don’t think I did anything.”
The raven cocked its head to one side and watched her intently. Caroline got a strong sense of amusement from the bird, but was reluctant to probe further. Her own emotions were in turmoil and his only added to that chaos.
“You let me in,” Corvus explained, “and between us we exorcised it.”
Caroline thought about that, recognising the truth of the words, even though their meaning remained lost to her.
“I wasn’t expecting you to be that close to the change,” he admitted sheepishly.
“Oh,” Caroline laughed, reacting to the embarrassment boiling from the bird, “So the oral massage wasn’t part of your plan?”
He hopped nervously from one foot to another, clearly agitated.
“What happened, Corvus?” she asked very gently.
“The wyrm inside you hatched,” Corvus answered quickly, “and we only just managed to drive it out before you were subsumed completely.”
“Okay,” she accepted, recognising that this was a story she could explore later.
His emotions were an open book to her, the sense far clearer now that she was herself again. An eternity of pain and longing, warring with the expectation of rejection. Thoughts and memories drifted through her mind, replaying bitter moments he would just have sooner forgotten.
“Corvus,” she breathed, pushing with the utmost gentleness, “She was wrong.”
The bird seemed to warp and stretch, spilling more feathers as its form twisted and changed. Shrugging into his new shape, the man stared down at Caroline, confusion marring the hope on his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but she hushed him into silence with a thought.
“I do want you,” Caroline husked, lifting her arms to draw him down into her embrace.