by Wol-vriey
Glass Horse also read the look in his eye.
“Don’t resist,” it said. “I’m not bulletproof.”
“See,” Gala said, “Your horse is smarter than you.”
Her comment stung Malone.
“Look, we haven’t got all day,” Gala added. “You can either get pillion on my bike now or we’ll riddle you both with holes and dump your bodies in the Milk Sea.”
“You’ve a persuasive way with words,” Malone replied to her dryly, “We’ll go with you. Just let me ride my horse.”
Gala nodded. “But no tricks.”
Malone mounted Glass Horse. Surrounded by the pale biker women, they set off at a gallop, the motorcycles rolling at a speed the horse could match.
***
The peninsula extended for longer than Malone expected. Like a snake it coiled, winding its un-straight path through the Milk Sea, through a forest of breast hills that turned their nipples towards the passing procession and squirted milk at them.
Malone bent close to Glass Horse’s ear. “How long before you can fly?” he whispered.
“Still a few hours. This long run is tiring me out again.”
One of the women riders swung her bike in close to them. She was very attractive, her black hair cut short.
“Hi, I’m Chloe.”
She yawned. Her neck sympathetically yawned into slits extending from ear to clavicle, pink vagina-like slashes that pulsed like they were breathing.
She peered through Glass Horse’s body as it galloped. “Where’d you get this horse?” she asked. “It’s pretty, like a big pearl on legs.”
She said more, but Malone wasn’t listening. He was shocked. He’d worked out that the slits in her neck were gills.
He thought a few moments, summing up the implications of this taken in concert with her wearing single-leg trousers and an extra-wide boot. He looked around. Like Gala, most of the other riders had long hair—their necks were hidden. The two who didn’t also had gills.
He turned back to Chloe, pointed to her breast-pocket patch. “What does MOM stand for?”
She looked at him queerly. “Mermaids on Motor-bikes. What else?”
Malone smiled sweetly back.
Chloe thought he was hitting on her. She fussily swung her bike to join ranks with the others.
Malone spent the rest of the trip pondering the incongruity of armed biker mermaids in military uniforms.
***
The breast hills grew larger and sparser around them. Finally they reached a grouping of stone breasts so humongous they looked like divine sex toys.
Malone was struck speechless. His manhood was humbled in the presence of such massive mammary masterpieces.
Unlike their floating flesh counterparts, these mountainous breasts were an island amidst the Milk Sea, connected directly to the peninsula.
They rode up through the cleavage of the closest pair of breasts. Its ‘walls’ twitched either side of them.
A heady, musty scent filled the corridor—sex diffusing its way from meatstone into air mingled with the thick, sweaty, sticky smell of a long-unwashed body. Arousing and disgusting all at once.
Chloe rode in close to Malone again. “I’ll see you tonight—if you’re alive then,” she whispered. She rode off again.
Then they topped the meatstone corridor and were staring down at the MOM camp.
CHAPTER 64
Malone
The camp was a series of green tents on one side of a mile-square enclosure. It was surrounded on three sides by the mountainous breasts. Its fourth side stared out over the Milk Sea.
From where Malone and Glass Horse entered the enclosure, however, they were unable to see the milky waves. The view directly ahead of them was dominated by the North Pole.
The North Pole was a gargantuan purple penis. It was fifty meters high and ten meters thick. It balanced on a tripod of HUGE testicles. It was covered with red metal veins that even at a distance could be noticed twitching.
Its glans spread atop it like a mushroom’s cap, bathing its base in shade. Around its testicles were piles of white debris, as if the penis-head was shedding dandruff.
“Now that’s impressive,” Malone said.
They descended the cleavage to the valley. Closer to the North Pole they saw that the white piles at its base were bones.
Human bones.
A short distance from the monster penis was hung a tapestry woven in human hair, embroidered with depictions of mermaids dancing round it.
Malone and Glass Horse were led directly to the North Pole and shackled to its testicles.
“This is very gay,” Malone grumbled. “Can’t you chain us to a vagina instead? The South Hole or something?”
Gala sniggered. “Stop pretending you dislike lollipop. It doesn’t wash.”
He stared coldly back at her. “What do you intend doing with us?”
“Look around you. Study the bones. You’ll work that out for yourself.”
She left them. In formation, the MOMs hopped off towards the tents, splitting off into smaller groups upon arriving at each tent flap.
Malone sat down, eyeing the stacked bones.
“Well, horse,” he said, “we seem about to be sacrificed to an erection. Talk about misplaced phallus worship.”
***
The North Pole had metal rungs affixed into its side. These led up as far as Malone could make out.
It smelt too, like a million sweaty/unwashed groins.
The ground immediately around the meatstone phallus was speckled with faded maroon stains. Its base sported faint dark splatters.
Malone grimly noted the bloodstains—these mer-maids meant business.
The entire camp was clean and well kept. Like the North Pole, its floor was meatstone—purple marbled with red and black. Vegetation was sparse, a few fruit trees mingled with cacti.
Malone set his mind to figuring out their escape. The obvious plan was to wait till Glass Horse could fly again. That would work, as long as he could convince the MOMs not to kill them both.
He explained the plan to his see-thru companion.
“A sound plan,” it agreed. “I’ll keep quiet about it.”
***
The MOMs returned an hour later. All were now changed into white T-shirts and short blue skirts that revealed their tails for what they were—orange-scaled appendages ending in foot-wide fins.
Now shoeless, the mermaids used their fins as feet. They wobbled like penguins, taking waddly steps on left and right fin divisions in turn.
Malone thought they looked like cute one-legged gymnasts.
There was nothing cute about their ever-present firearms though.
“Do you sleep with your guns on?”
“Shut up,” Gala said. “Don’t act cute—we’ve no time for your shit.”
“Let me go and I won’t keep stinking up your camp.”
Chloe scowled. “Even the dumb aren’t that dumb.”
She stepped up close to him, ripped his jacket open, and placed a knife against his belly.
“This could go really badly for you,” Chloe said in an icy voice. “It’s best you tell us quickly what you know about those ass-fucked transsexual’s plans to invade us.”
What is your problem? Malone wondered. One moment you’re acting like you want to get me into bed, the next like you want me dead.
He met her gaze evenly. “I already told you: I’m on a quest. I arrived here by mistake.”
“Convince him,” Gala commanded.
Chloe lifted the knife to Malone’s chest. He brushed her off.
Gala shook her head at him. “Don’t resist her. If you do, I’ll shoot you.”
Malone dropped his hands back to his side. He tensed in anticipation of what was coming.
Chloe dug the knife point into Malone’s left breast. The other mermaids watched intently. Several licked their lips.
Malone yelled: “Yeeooowww! What the hell is wrong with you ladies!?”
Chloe pushed the knife in deeper. She twisted it. “Tell us the truth, cocksucker!”
Malone steeled himself against the pain. He grit his teeth, fought not to scream out again. He wasn’t giving them the satisfaction.
“Stop!” Gala’s voice was a harsh whisper.
Chloe stood back.
“Why aren’t you bleeding?” Gala asked Malone.
He winced from the pain. “All my blood’s in my right arm now. If that sounds confusing to you, I’m not yet used to the idea myself.”
Gala cocked her head. An inquisitive look took over her face. “Show us.”
He complied, removing gloves and jacket.
“OOOoooh.” On seeing his blood arm, the mermaids all stared at him stunned. Chloe suddenly looked very contrite.
Malone groaned. “What is it now?
“I just told—”
He stopped. All the mermaids had thrown themselves prostrate on the ground in an attitude of worshipping him.
“First they hate you, now they love you,” Glass Horse whispered. “You’ve a weird way with women, Malone.”
***
The mermaids retreated to confer in loud awed whispers, then they dispersed.
Malone and Glass Horse shrugged at each other.
A short while later the pair were unshackled and led into one of the largest tents. Its middle was taken up by a tub sunken into the stone floor.
A naked Gala lolled in the water. Her milk-white breasts were as perfect as the meatstone giants enclosing the MOM camp.
She smiled at Malone.
“You need to unwind,” she said smokily. “Join me.”
Malone undressed. He joined her, still totally nonplussed by this about-face.
A mermaid brought them food and drink. White fish that tasted like cottage cheese, and lime-colored wine.
Glass Horse refused both food and drink, then promptly fell asleep.
Meal over, the server mermaids left, sealing the tent behind them.
Gala began fondling Malone’s penis.
Glass Horse slept on, thankfully in Malone’s opinion.
Once Malone was fully erect, Gala went down on him.
He groaned in disbelief at her perfect technique: Despite her interlocking dentition, she didn’t teeth-scrape at all, padding their points with the inner side of her lips. Her wet cushiony mouth was a new kind of sexual heaven.
Writhing in submission to Gala’s sexual expertise, Malone could practically see naked trangels singing hymns to anus worship.
He groaned some more, then spurted into her mouth.
He lay back, watching the movement of her throat as she swallowed his ejaculate, for the moment relieved of more than mere sexual tension.
Afterwards, Gala grinned at Malone like a piranha.
“I bet you’re wondering why I’m treating you so nice now.”
Malone nodded an afterglow nod.
“Selfish reasons: Our legend says a man with a red arm will come and make the North Pole cum.”
Malone nodded patronizingly. Of course, it had to be something as stupid as this. “How am I supposed to do that, does it have a vagina somewhere?”
He stole a quick glance at Glass Horse. It was still asleep, the ground magnified through its body.
Sinuous as a snake, Gala fluttered around him in the pool, caressing him with her breasts.
“The legend says you’ll jerk it off.”
Malone burst out laughing. “How?”
She frowned, angry that he mocked her. “Don’t be silly. How am I supposed to know that?”
“I’m sorry. It just sounds so ridiculous.” Her white face was still adamant, so he bent and kissed her breasts, sucking both strawberry-tinged nipples long and hard.
Gala moaned. Her body shuddered against Malone’s. Her tail flapped against his legs. She ran her fingers through his hair. She gripped him hard and shivered, then pushed him away sharply.
Malone looked at her. Gala’s eyes were wide with lust.
“That’s one way to say sorry,” she gasped. “You’re however not out of the hot water yet.”
She lifted herself to sit on the pool’s edge, then pushed aside a layer of golden crotch scales to reveal her vagina.
Malone regarded the mermaid’s pussy—a pale pink pathway proclaiming penetrative pleasure, moist with creamy white secretion.
“Eat me,” she moaned at him, tapping the pink slit. She looped her tail into a golden curve. “You can sit on my tail fin while doing so.”
Malone made himself comfortable on the improvised stool and ate her, digging his tongue deep into the hollow of her cunt. She tasted clean and sweet.
Outside Gala’s tent, her sentries giggled to her loud moans. Then to her louder breathless gasps and shrieks.
Glass Horse slept on.
CHAPTER 65
Malone
“The North Pole used to be much smaller,” Gala said. “A long time ago, groups of MOMs like myself could lick and suck it to ejaculation. But then it became insensitive to our feelings, and our relationship deteriorated. We refused to have sex with it, and having no hands it couldn’t masturbate.
“We let it become extremely sexually frustrated, to teach it to treat its worshippers better. That was our mistake.
“When we thought the North Pole had learnt its lesson, we patched up our differences with it. We became lovers again and resumed having sex with it. But now it could no longer cum. It had forgotten how to. We tried every trick we could think of to make it ejaculate, to no avail.
“Unable to exit it, the North Pole’s semen converted into rockflesh, making it grow larger and larger still, till now you have what you—”
There was a sound like thunder. Shockwaves rippled the tent walls. Ground-transmitted vibrations rippled the pool water.
“That was a bomb,” Malone said. “Are you ladies having weapons practice?”
Gala shook her head at him.
Moments later a MOM sentry burst into the tent. Her face an excited mask, she hopped quickly over to the bathtub.
“We’re under attack! From both the Cleavage and the Milk Sea!”
Gala looked sharply at Malone, then back at the woman. “Trangel bitches?”
“No, these are robots!”
A bomb exploded outside the tent. The ground shook; the canvas wall ripped.
The mermaid sentry was knocked off her tail. She fell into the pool, floating limply face downward, blood gushing from her multi-punctured back.
***
With the ground rumbling beneath them like a truck engine, Malone and Gala hurriedly dressed, then rushed outside.
The air blast from a bomb fusillade capsized the tent behind them immediately after they emerged from it.
The camp was being attacked by white robots. Malone instantly recognized them as more of Rachel Fischer’s New Korean imports.
The machines thronged the cleavage descent to the MOM camp. They looked like semen dripping between the mammoth breasts.
Ranks of armed mermaids were already on their bikes, streaming across the camp towards the breast-hill’s access road.
“The robots want me,” Malone told Gala. “Call your girls off. Give me a boat and I’ll leave—draw them away from here.”
“Like hell you will. We’ll fight and defeat them. Afterwards you’ll make the pole cum.”
Malone had expected that answer. “Give me a gun then, so I don’t get killed.”
Gala nodded. She tossed him a pistol.
“The white robots are here for you, Malone.”
Malone looked round. Glass Horse was pulling itself out from beneath the collapsed tent. Malone winced in embarrassment from having forgotten about it. “You okay, horse?
It got to its feet. “I am undamaged, thank you.”
“Duck!” Malone yelled.
The three of them flung themselves to the ground.
A salvo of bullets flew over them
Malone shot the robot firing at th
em. It blew apart in a shower of scalding machine oil and melted plastic innards.
***
The white robots poured down the cleavage like spilt sugar.
Ranked behind this descending horde stood other, much larger white robots. These carried massive bazookas and rained rockets down on the camp.
This is bad, Malone thought, really bad.
Additional detachments of robots were disembarking from white sailboats at the quay formed by the quadrant of the island not bounded by the breasthills.
Like fleas deserting a drowning dog, like bees exiting a shaken hive, the beached robots rushed into the camp.
They instantly began firing on the riding MOMs. Bullets ripped across the camp. Mermaid bikes exploded, pitching their tail-legged riders skyward as though they were somersaulting on trampolines.
A number of mermaids swerved their bikes back to engage this new enemy in close-range fire. The remainder continued riding and shooting at the force descending through the breast hills.
***
The cleavage approach to the camp fast became a scene of major carnage, a vista of death and destruction, of bloodied white-and-gold-scaled flesh mingled with machine parts spurting oil. Piled mermaid and machine corpses formed an obstruction to the movement of both combatant forces.
The robot bazooka brigade stepped forward. They rained rockets down into the valley road, blowing the piled corpses out of the way. They bombed indiscriminately, killing large numbers of both theirs and the MOM forces.
Gala and Malone helplessly watched the slaughter. Along with Glass Horse, they were hiding behind a stack of sardine crates.
“I’ve got to get out there,” Gala said miserably, almost weeping with frustration. “My girls are being blown to bits.”
“So are the robots,” Malone replied. He understood Gala’s feelings. He’d kept firing till he was out of ammo. Then he’d dumped the gun. Now, forced to just watch the fighting, he was suffused with a feeling of impotence.