Tamed by the Creature from the Lagoon

by Clea Kinderton

  But I’m alive.

  I didn’t understand it. Why hadn’t the alligator dragged me out of the boat? I’d been completely defenseless. Had Chet come back? Maybe he’d scared it away? But then, why was I still on the boat? Had something happened to Chet?

  Calm down. You don’t even know if he was here.

  I shifted and the boat tilted. I realized that I was sitting in several inches of water. The boat had sprung a leak. If I hadn’t woken up, I might have drowned.

  I felt around in the boat. The oars were still there, and my goggles, which had fallen off when I’d struck my head. I was still wearing my flippers, and I still had the knife strapped to my thigh. I’d completely forgotten about it during the attack. But everything else was gone. I looked around for the dock, but it was impossible to see more than a couple of feet. I reached over the side of the boat where it should have been but there was nothing but empty space. I found the rope I’d used to tie the boat to the dock; it was slack and hanging limply over the side. I pulled it out of the water. The end had snapped. Short of the alligator biting its way through, I couldn’t imagine what had broken it. I was drifting on the lagoon.

  Goosebumps swept over my body. It had gotten much cooler. I rubbed my arms and tried to figure out what to do. I’d have to row until I hit land. I checked my wrist compass. The face was smashed. I had no way of knowing which direction I was headed.

  My phone!

  It was in the backpack. The one I’d fed to the alligator. I couldn’t even call for help.

  What a disaster!

  I held my head in my hands.

  Calm down, Kate. You’re alive. You’re in one piece. The boat is more or less intact. Just start rowing. You’re not far from home.

  I could have swum to shore, but I wasn’t about to risk it.

  I kicked off the flippers, shipped the oars, seated myself, and began to row. Almost immediately the boat bumped into something floating in the water.

  I shuddered and cautiously peered over the prow, ready to leap out of harm’s way. Something was floating in the water. It took my eyes a moment to adjust but then I made out the distinctive rough hide of the alligator. I stared at it, paralyzed, afraid to move in case I’d somehow escaped its notice. It hung lifelessly in the water. Gradually, I came to realize that it wasn’t swimming, but floating. Its limbs were stretched out, and its head was at an unusual angle. The alligator, at least four and a half meters in length, was dead. Something had broken its neck.

  Impossible. What could do that?

  But I already knew the answer.

  Only one thing could do that to a full grown alligator. I remembered how effortlessly the Fish-Man had tossed me around my living room and shivered.

  I took one of the oars and prodded the alligator, pushing it out of the way. It rolled slightly to one side, exposing its pale belly as it drifted past. Reshipping the oar, I continued to row. A few minutes later the boat passed through a thick clump of reeds and came to a soft stop, stuck in the mud.

  I climbed out, splashing through the water, and made my way to shore. I was on the south side of the lagoon, on the exact opposite side from my cabin. There was too much water in the boat to make a return trip. I’d have to walk. At least I was on solid land.

  I scrambled up from the beach onto relatively firmer ground and followed the edge of the beach up around onto the escarpment. The vegetation was thicker here and I had to push my way through the branches, being careful not to trip on the roots. After approximately ten minutes of forcing my way through rustling leaves and snapping branches, I realized that the forest had become very quiet.

  I froze, feeling a chill run down my spine. I was no longer alone.

  I drew my diving knife from its sheath and turned around in a circle, peering through the darkness. The fog was less dense and the moon had risen. I could make out the shapes of the tree limbs and leaves against the dark navy blue of the sky. I heard something crunch in the bush behind me and spun around. A dark shadow lurched suddenly and then stopped. Had I imagined it?

  “Who’s there?” I said in a shaky voice. There was no response. “I have a knife.”

  The shadow moved. I turned and ran.

  Leaves buffeted my face as I sprinted through the woods. Heavy footfalls thumped on the forest floor behind me. Branches snapped. My heart was beating so fast it felt like it was going to burst through my chest.

  I tripped on a root and fell face first onto the ground, knocking the wind out of my lungs. Whatever it was was right over top of me now. I turned and slashed with the knife and felt it stick into something solid. There was a loud hiss of rage. The knife was jerked out of my hand. I rolled over and tried to scramble away through the dirt.

  A cold, scaly hand closed around my ankle.

  Suddenly I was rising up through the air, screaming, arms swinging for something to grasp onto.

  The creature shook me and I stopped struggling, dangling awkwardly in the air, breathing hard. I was scared out of my mind. It set me down carefully on the ground and I jumped to my feet, facing it. I could see the general features of its head and shoulders, the wet gleam of its eyes.

  “Stay away from me,” I said, backing up.

  It took a step toward me and I stumbled backward, slamming my back against the trunk of a tree. It advanced, its head cocked to one side, regarding me with one of its huge eyes. I could smell that unusual cut grass odor again.

  It reached out and gently touched my cheek with one of its taloned fingers. I turned my head away, disgusted and horrified but unable to flee. One slash of its claws was all it would take to remove my head from my shoulders.

  The creature leaned closer, smelling me. I could feel its moist breath on my forehead. It ran its hand down my neck, lightly stroking my skin. When it came to my bikini top, its hand paused, curious. It slid its claw inside, against my skin, between the cups, and tugged, shredding the fabric. The cups slipped loosely from my breasts. It brushed the straps over my shoulders and my top fell to the ground. My nipples, now exposed to the cool night air, stiffened.

  I was too terrified to move or speak. The creature lowered its head and extended its tongue. I felt its cool, slippery caress on the underside of my breast. It licked wetly up and over my nipple, making me cringe. It repeated this movement with my other breast, making both nipples tight and cold and sensitive. It groped my breasts with its broad, strong hands, feeling their supple firmness, and then ran its hands down my body until it came to my hips. It slipped its claws inside the waistband of my bikini bottoms and ripped them apart, tossing the fabric aside.

  It hunched lower now and pressed its snout between my thighs. Using its hands, it forced my legs apart and draped its thick wet tongue against my vagina.

  I felt a rush of excitement. Everything about this moment was disgusting and wrong, but my body didn’t care how I felt about it. The creature began to lick, rolling its tongue back and forth over my clit. Its tongue was soft and slick and a little thrill shivered through me with every tickling stroke.

  I moaned and then caught myself, ashamed. The Fish-Man continued to lick, massaging my clit patiently, like a lover. The more excited I became, the more energetically it devoured me, lapping at my juices as fast as my body could produce them.

  My legs began to tremble. I grasped the branches of the tree, struggling to hold myself up. The creature was tireless and eager, its tongue flicking rapidly and vigorously over my clit, and my breath gradually became deeper and faster, punctuated by little gasps and moans that only seemed to encourage it. Warmth spread through my body and my skin began to tingle. My nipples were hard as pebbles, throbbing with every stroke of its tongue on my swollen, sensitive pearl.

  Oh God, it’s...

  I groaned, my legs shaking violently.

  ...it’s going to make me cum.

  It suddenly hoisted me up, hooking my legs over its shoulders. Its tongue dug deeper, penetrating my cunt, tasting my sex. The thick, muscular appendage wiggled
around inside of me, rubbing and thrusting. In almost no time at all, I came.

  I shuddered as the intense burst of ecstasy swept through me. I clenched my legs around the Fish-Man’s scaly head, writhing as I contracted around its tongue. I moaned, rocking my hips, toes curling with pleasure. It waited patiently for my orgasm to subside and then retracted its tongue and gently set me down on the ground. It took me by the shoulders and carefully turned me around, pressing my face against the bark of the tree. I clutched the trunk with my fingertips, whining plaintively as it seized my hips and adjusted itself into position behind me. Despite my pleasure, I couldn’t dispel the fear of being taken by a stranger. By a creature that wasn’t even human. I felt the smooth crown of its cock slide up against my still throbbing pussy, searching for my opening.

  Despite my fear, I couldn’t deny how much I wanted this.

  The Fish-Man pierced me, stretching my cunt just wide enough to insert the head of its cock, then it tightened its grip on my hips and forced its slippery shaft in.

  I groaned, trembling as its long, hard, pole snaked into my pussy. The creature made its distinctive croaking sound, which I now suspected was an indication of pleasure, and began to pump.

  I moaned, pressing my breasts against the tree trunk, buttocks jiggling with every slap of its pelvis.

  I was terrified, but my fear and horror only seemed to accentuate my excitement. I resented the pleasure this creature could give to me. It wasn’t fair that this monstrous cock should be so perfectly satisfying and make me feel so weak in the knees. It wasn’t fair that I loved it more than a human man’s.

  The Fish-Man began to thrust harder, rhythmically stroking my G-spot. Its cock had begun to tremble again, that rapid little vibration that sent chills of raw excitement coursing through every nerve of my body.

  My toes dug in the dirt, my nails scratched into the bark of the tree, I sighed and gasped. The more aroused I became, the more excited the Fish-Man became, and the more its cock throbbed and strained in my tight passage. I came a second time, crying out, and bucked back against him. It tightened its grip around my hips as I clenched deliciously around its member. I was shaking from head to toe. Its claws pinched into my skin and it thrust even harder, spanking me with its scaly hip bones. It was fucking me with animalistic fervor, desperate to release its seed inside of me.

  “Yes. Yes. Oh God, yes!” I moaned.

  The Fish-Man let out a reverberating trill. The base of its cock swelled up, fluttering rapidly against my G-spot, and sent me spiraling into another prolonged, continuous, rolling orgasm. Its hips bucked, crushing me against the tree as it pumped its thick, creamy, amphibious sperm into my womb. I could feel its cock straining and spurting vigorously inside of me, filling me up, until slippery streams of semen began to leak out and run down my legs. I was so overwhelmed with pleasure that I felt almost delirious. I was light-headed. The world was spinning. I could barely stand up. The whole universe felt warm and soft and joyful and tingly.

  We remained locked together for a long time, as we had the night before, and every pulsation of its cock made me tremble, sigh, and moan. Then finally its cock stopped inflating and the creature pulled out. A thick stream of cum dripped down into the leaves between my feet.

  I looked back over my shoulder at the beast, timid, uncertain what would happen next. The creature’s head bobbed up and down a couple of times, as if it too was unsure, and then it slowly turned and departed, shambling back into the forest.

  I stayed there for a minute or two, staring into the darkness as I caught my breath. Finally, I pushed myself away from the tree and made my way on trembling legs back to the cabin, wondering what tomorrow would bring.

  Chapter Seventeen

  I sat huddled on my couch in jeans and an old sweatshirt, nursing a cup of tea. The remains of a half-eaten sandwich sat on a plate on the coffee table. I’d made my way back to the cabin stark naked and had a shower. By the time I’d gotten dressed and made myself something to eat, it was 5:00 AM. That had been over an hour ago.

  There’s being brave, Kate, and then there’s being stupid.

  I sipped the tepid tea. Without my phone, and without any Internet access to send emails from my laptop, I was completely isolated. I might as well have been on the moon. I thought I could handle it, but I was completely out of my depth.

  Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid. What were you thinking?

  Not very clearly, whatever it was.

  I could stay at the cabin and wait for the Fish-Man’s next attack, or I could try to find someone with a car or a phone.

  I had to admit that I’d been reckless. Playing with fire. The Fish-Man was far too dangerous to face alone, despite its apparently amorous intentions.

  Which meant that there were three possibilities. The first was cutting across country to St. Marks. That was the most direct route, but it was mostly uninhabited wilderness, which would leave me exposed. Alternately, I could walk the other direction up to Lighthouse Road and from there head either south to the St. Marks Lighthouse, or north to Newport. The lighthouse was closer, but Newport was a more logical destination. I had no guarantee that anyone would be at the lighthouse, though there would probably be an attendant of some sort, but there would certainly be someone at Ollie’s Oyster Shack. And from Ollie’s I could probably convince someone to give me a ride into St. Marks, where I was sure Chet and Loni would take me in. If nothing else, I could call Chet from the restaurant and have him come pick me up. I might not even have to go all the way to Newport. I might be able to flag someone down when I got to Lighthouse Road.

  And then what? Are you really going to turn your back on all this and pretend it never happened? The most important scientific discovery of the decade? Of the century? Are you really going to let Henry win?

  I drank the rest of my tea and set the empty cup down on top of The Ecology of Coastal Habitats.

  That’s about the size of it.

  I forced myself to get up. I was jittery, and my stomach was in knots. I was terrified of leaving the cabin, but I was even more afraid to stay. I didn’t know which prospect was worse: the possibility that the Fish-Man would kill me the next time it saw me, or the possibility that I wouldn’t even pretend to resist if it tried to mate with me a third time.

  My shame over the events of the previous night was mixed with liberal doses of unwanted physiological arousal. To put it bluntly: the prospect that the Fish-Man would return was making me horny. And that despite my best efforts to feel disgusted about the whole thing, the awareness of my own desires sickened me.

  I had to run, that much was certain. But was I running from the Fish-Man, or from myself?

  I tugged on my hiking boots and pulled the laces tight. The sky was overcast again, and threatened to rain, so I slipped on my windbreaker. I’d lost my knife in the forest, but I still had Dan’s rifle. Including the round in the chamber, I had a total of five cartridges. I had a feeling that trying to take down the Fish-Man would be like trying to take down a buffalo, but they would have to do. Setting my jaw, I forced myself to march out onto the porch. I scanned the lagoon and the woods around the cabin, but there was no sign of the Fish-Man.

  I locked the new door Chet had installed and made my way down the steps to the lane. I stopped again and took another look around. An anhinga flew down from a tree on the escarpment and landed in the lagoon with a splash. I could hear other birds chirping in the trees. I took these common signs of life as an indication that there were no large predators around.

  Feeling slightly more relaxed, I walked up the lane to the dirt road that led through the marshy scrubland to Lighthouse Road. I held the rifle in both hands, ready to use it at a moment’s notice. Grey clouds rolled slowly across the sky, hanging so low I could almost imagine them grazing the tops of the trees. There was a slight breeze, warm and damp, pushing the tops of the long grass as if they were being brushed by a giant hand. The smell of damp earth and decaying vegetation was strong. The big black
flies seemed especially pleased with the rank odor.

  After ten minutes crunching up the gravel road, there was a distant splash that made me turn with a start. Another anhinga, or perhaps the same one, was coasting along the surface of a pond with its wings outstretched and something twisting in its beak.

  Relax. The Fish-Man’s obviously nocturnal. It’s not going to attack you in broad daylight. Not out here in the open. Not in the middle of the road.

  I continued my march. Ten minutes later, I felt an icy chill settling into my spine. The birds had stopped chirping. Everything had fallen silent. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched.

  A light warm rain began to fall. I pulled up my hood. The breeze had all but vanished and the rain was falling straight down. The trees were closing in on the road and I began to feel more and more anxious. It wouldn’t be hard for the Fish-Man to conceal himself only a few meters from the road.

  Tightening my grip on the rifle, I forced myself to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

  For several minutes, nothing happened. Then there was a rustle behind me. I turned with a jerk, but there was nothing there.

  I began walking faster.

  This time I heard the crunch of gravel.

  I spun in time to see the Fish-Man dashing from one side of the road to the other. I raised the rifle, but it had already disappeared into the forest.

  I turned and started to run.

  The Fish-Man exploded from the bushes to my left, charging onto the road on all fours like a gorilla.

  Jesus Christ it’s fast!

  I screamed and fled in the opposite direction, running straight into the forest on the right side of the road. I was so terrified I’d forgotten I was even holding the rifle.

  I scrambled over roots, careening through the bushes and ducking under the low hanging branches. I could hear the Fish-Man crashing through the forest behind me like an Allosaurus.

  The forest abruptly ended and I found myself in a grassy clearing beside a pond.