Harry Guakomoli was jolted from his naughty, albeit a bit disturbing, dream. Not sure if it really was the work of Filthy O'Possum or just his overactive imagination messing around, The Guak knew, one way or the other, what his future held in store for him if he didn't act. He refused to bow down to any man, to be his bitch.
There was, of course, one small complication: our hero was immobilized, strapped to a bed. Notice I wrote "small," dear reader, and I fucking meant it. The restraints were made of leather, and they were no match for The Guak. He breathed deeply and flexed all of his muscles all at once, and the leather straps that were holding him down snapped.
The Guak jumped to his feet and staggered: lightheadedness caused him to reel and forced him to lean against the bed for support. He might be conscious, but whatever that foul tomato soup was laced with still affected his mind. Not to mention the two blows to the head he took when he collapsed from the poison. His vision was blurry, and he tried to see if, by chance, that crazy German guy had outfitted him with kick ass oracular abilities. This was not the case.
In front of him stood some of Doktor Maschinemensch's wee henchmen. The Guak thought there were two of them, but with his eyesight all fucked up it was hard to tell. They stared at him with their unblinking vacant blue eyes. No reaction was to be gleaned from their pale expressionless faces.
"I know what you little fuckers are," growled The Guak. "And I'm going to take a lot of anger and frustration out on you. I had a lot of fond memories of that bodega. And now Oslo has to walk five extra minutes to score our malt liquor and Nutter Butters." With that The Guak lifted the bed up and sent it crashing down on the non-dwarves.
"Thanks, Dad," our hero said as he collapsed atop the bed. He wasn't sure if Filthy O'Possum truly was his ancestor, but The Guak knew he got his might from his old man. But that might have been the end of the power surge. The Guak felt his strength reserves depleted from the poisoned soup.
Another diminutive man entered the room holding a gun. It looked like a hunting rifle with some modifications: a black box hung from the barrel with two coils running from the box to just before the trigger. A loud hum emanated from this strange weapon. His would-be assailant aimed his gun towards The Guak. Our hero was too weak to do anything.
"Bonzai,motherfucker!" yelled Oslo as he darted into the room and pounced towards the gunman's face. The world's smartest cat had wanted to run roughshod on these little people ever since he arrived at Neuneuschwanstein. The sidekick was finally getting his wish. Oslo dug his claws into those soulless eyes, but something wasn't right. Metal crunched as Oslo drove his nails into the tiny man. Sparks flew from the sockets and electricity ran through our hero's hero.
The world's smartest cat convulsed violently as he was being electrocuted. Then the henchman's head exploded, sending Oslo flying. The blast knocked our four-legged friend against the stone wall, and landed on the overturned bed beside The Guak.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Monday, May 16, 2011
Part XI: The Guak's Family, New And Old (Part III)
Harry Guakomoli discovered Girl Oslo was right: The slit had an elasticity that allowed The Guak to fit. He barreled through and crashed to soft spongy ground. Soft spongy pink ground. Our hero jumped to his feet and took in his surroundings. He was in a cavern, its walls and ceiling a vibrant fuchsia. The only way out appeared to be the same way he came in. This must be The Pink. "Clever name," thought The Guak as he rolled his eyes.
The chamber was empty save for the throne in the center of the cave. It comprised of breasts, penises, labia, buttocks, scrota, and mouths of all sizes, shapes, and shades. Sitting upon the throne was a dark man smoking a blunt. He looked mighty sharp in his green suit with gold pinstripes. Several gold chains hung around his neck and a large gaudy ring was wrapped around each finger. His gold bowler and long dreadlocks framed the man's face nicely.
At each foot knelt a barefoot woman in a gold bikini, her arms wrapped around his leg. To his left was a curvy white girl with a wavy ginger mane that cascaded down to her bottom; to his right knelt a black lady as voluptuous as her caucasian counterpart with a ridiculously over-sized afro.
"This is a seriously whacked out dream you're having, son," the man spoke, flashing his diamond-encrusted platinum grill. "Some hardcore Henry Darger-type shit."
The Guak didn't know who Henry Darger was, and he didn't want to know. He clenched his fists and cracked his neck.
"Whoa, whoa! I'm just here to talk."
"Start talking then, fuck nuts. Who are you?" The Guak growled.
"Right to the point. I can appreciate that," the man said right before he took a long pull off the blunt and let the smoke from the marijuana and tobacco slowly seep from his mouth.
"I'm Filthy O'Possum, and I'm here to save you from a life of slavery. And possibly from dying."
The Guak had heard of Filthy O'Possum. Father Bruce had spoken of him once after catechism. The clergyman claimed O'Possum was the patron saint of sexy visions according to voodoo, santeria, and other schools of black magic with African roots. Our hero got the impression Father Bruce was full of shit about a lot of things and not a very good priest.
"This is what that Nazi jerk-off has in store for you. Sure, kicking ass and fucking bitches is a blast, but the trade-off is servitude to a Master Race shit heel," said Filthy O'Possum.
"Why do you give a shit?" asked The Guak. He found this "Filthy O'Possum" highly suspicious.
"Because you're my descendant."
Our hero looked at the near ebony complexion of Filthy O'Possum and then at his own pale, almost pasty, arm. He shot this strange man a look of skepticism.
"Us O'Possums have always had a sweet tooth for white chocolate," Filthy stated with a sly grin. "So our line lightened over the years so much our African roots are unnoticeable...on the outside. Like in Pudd'nhead Wilson."
The Guak didn't know what Pudd'nhead Wilson was and didn't want to know. This was obviously thinking time, and that didn't sit well with our hero.
"So not only will you be Maschinemensch's bitch, but if he ever found out what's pumping through your veins he'll hit that control rod until your head explodes."
For some reason he can't explain, The Guak believed this man. His ancestor, Filthy O'Possum, patron saint of naughty dreams, was telling the truth as ridiculous as it sounded.
"I've been in many a tight spot before. Why are you helping me now?"
"Because last night you became my last living descendant the moment you killed Sasquatch MacGillicuddy."
"For real? That waste was my brother?" The Guak asked. This sounded more and more weird.
"Don't be stupid," Filthy said as he passed the blunt to the white girl who immediately took a monster hit. "He was your half brother."
"We had the same mother? She was a voodoo priestess, right?"
"No, no, no. Don't get me started on that crazy vindictive bitch. Because that whore had to go and be a twat you can't have kids."
This was serious thinking time, and The Guak was in over his head. And that made our hero ornery.
"You better start making sense or I'm going to rip off your head and piss down your neck."
"Okay, okay, brother. Fucking relax," responded The Guak's ancestor. "Your pops was an odd man who searched the world for odd ladies. Real strange chicks. And eventually he would get it on with 'em. Siamese twins. Albino quadriplegics. Hairless yetis. Goat girls. Whatever. So joining a traveling circus seemed the logical choice to sate his taste for the physically and mentally weird. And then that...that...your mother came along. He was smitten at first sight. She must have put some charm on him because there was nothing special about her. But she was evil. As evil as they come. But he was in love and would never leave her, so I tried invading her dreams. Tempt her to stray. Yet her subconscious was impenetrable. I suspected the strumpet possessed some gris-gris that protected her from me and my ilk. So I went after him. But he only fantasized about her. Fucking gross. After you were born I decided to pull no punches and used every sexy dream manipulation tool at my disposal. But I went too far and the onslaught killed him."
"That was mighty fucking stupid of you," stated The Guak.
"No shit, motherfucker!" snapped Filthy O'Possum. "Your old man was dead, and your mother knew it was me who killed him. But Colonel Carl didn't believe her. Who would? So those carny freaks burned her at the stake, but before she died she put a hex on you. She cursed you to be forever childless. It was obviously to spite me more than anything. Sasquatch never had any children, preferring the company of Thai lady boys. So now you are the sole living member of the O'Possum bloodline. Maybe I'm just a sentimental old fool, but I wanted to keep you alive at least long enough to find someone to lift the curse so you can spread your potent seed around."
"Ummm...thanks?" said our hero.
"Don't mention it, my boy," replied Filthy. He placed a hand atop the head of both kneeling ladies, who passed the blunt back and forth between them. "So Harry O'Possum MacGillicuddy Guakomoli, The Motherfucking Guak, before I wake your ass up so you can be righteous and crack some Third Reich skulls, do you want to have your way with either of these fine honeys? Or both? Or maybe just watch them make out? It's pretty hot."
"No, I'm good," The Guak answered. "But I have a question: why go through all of this trouble with the elaborate scenario instead of just bringing me directly to The Pink?"
"I'm the patron saint of dirty thoughts. I've got some wiggle room here, but I still got a mandate."
The chamber was empty save for the throne in the center of the cave. It comprised of breasts, penises, labia, buttocks, scrota, and mouths of all sizes, shapes, and shades. Sitting upon the throne was a dark man smoking a blunt. He looked mighty sharp in his green suit with gold pinstripes. Several gold chains hung around his neck and a large gaudy ring was wrapped around each finger. His gold bowler and long dreadlocks framed the man's face nicely.
At each foot knelt a barefoot woman in a gold bikini, her arms wrapped around his leg. To his left was a curvy white girl with a wavy ginger mane that cascaded down to her bottom; to his right knelt a black lady as voluptuous as her caucasian counterpart with a ridiculously over-sized afro.
"This is a seriously whacked out dream you're having, son," the man spoke, flashing his diamond-encrusted platinum grill. "Some hardcore Henry Darger-type shit."
The Guak didn't know who Henry Darger was, and he didn't want to know. He clenched his fists and cracked his neck.
"Whoa, whoa! I'm just here to talk."
"Start talking then, fuck nuts. Who are you?" The Guak growled.
"Right to the point. I can appreciate that," the man said right before he took a long pull off the blunt and let the smoke from the marijuana and tobacco slowly seep from his mouth.
"I'm Filthy O'Possum, and I'm here to save you from a life of slavery. And possibly from dying."
The Guak had heard of Filthy O'Possum. Father Bruce had spoken of him once after catechism. The clergyman claimed O'Possum was the patron saint of sexy visions according to voodoo, santeria, and other schools of black magic with African roots. Our hero got the impression Father Bruce was full of shit about a lot of things and not a very good priest.
"This is what that Nazi jerk-off has in store for you. Sure, kicking ass and fucking bitches is a blast, but the trade-off is servitude to a Master Race shit heel," said Filthy O'Possum.
"Why do you give a shit?" asked The Guak. He found this "Filthy O'Possum" highly suspicious.
"Because you're my descendant."
Our hero looked at the near ebony complexion of Filthy O'Possum and then at his own pale, almost pasty, arm. He shot this strange man a look of skepticism.
"Us O'Possums have always had a sweet tooth for white chocolate," Filthy stated with a sly grin. "So our line lightened over the years so much our African roots are unnoticeable...on the outside. Like in Pudd'nhead Wilson."
The Guak didn't know what Pudd'nhead Wilson was and didn't want to know. This was obviously thinking time, and that didn't sit well with our hero.
"So not only will you be Maschinemensch's bitch, but if he ever found out what's pumping through your veins he'll hit that control rod until your head explodes."
For some reason he can't explain, The Guak believed this man. His ancestor, Filthy O'Possum, patron saint of naughty dreams, was telling the truth as ridiculous as it sounded.
"I've been in many a tight spot before. Why are you helping me now?"
"Because last night you became my last living descendant the moment you killed Sasquatch MacGillicuddy."
"For real? That waste was my brother?" The Guak asked. This sounded more and more weird.
"Don't be stupid," Filthy said as he passed the blunt to the white girl who immediately took a monster hit. "He was your half brother."
"We had the same mother? She was a voodoo priestess, right?"
"No, no, no. Don't get me started on that crazy vindictive bitch. Because that whore had to go and be a twat you can't have kids."
This was serious thinking time, and The Guak was in over his head. And that made our hero ornery.
"You better start making sense or I'm going to rip off your head and piss down your neck."
"Okay, okay, brother. Fucking relax," responded The Guak's ancestor. "Your pops was an odd man who searched the world for odd ladies. Real strange chicks. And eventually he would get it on with 'em. Siamese twins. Albino quadriplegics. Hairless yetis. Goat girls. Whatever. So joining a traveling circus seemed the logical choice to sate his taste for the physically and mentally weird. And then that...that...your mother came along. He was smitten at first sight. She must have put some charm on him because there was nothing special about her. But she was evil. As evil as they come. But he was in love and would never leave her, so I tried invading her dreams. Tempt her to stray. Yet her subconscious was impenetrable. I suspected the strumpet possessed some gris-gris that protected her from me and my ilk. So I went after him. But he only fantasized about her. Fucking gross. After you were born I decided to pull no punches and used every sexy dream manipulation tool at my disposal. But I went too far and the onslaught killed him."
"That was mighty fucking stupid of you," stated The Guak.
"No shit, motherfucker!" snapped Filthy O'Possum. "Your old man was dead, and your mother knew it was me who killed him. But Colonel Carl didn't believe her. Who would? So those carny freaks burned her at the stake, but before she died she put a hex on you. She cursed you to be forever childless. It was obviously to spite me more than anything. Sasquatch never had any children, preferring the company of Thai lady boys. So now you are the sole living member of the O'Possum bloodline. Maybe I'm just a sentimental old fool, but I wanted to keep you alive at least long enough to find someone to lift the curse so you can spread your potent seed around."
"Ummm...thanks?" said our hero.
"Don't mention it, my boy," replied Filthy. He placed a hand atop the head of both kneeling ladies, who passed the blunt back and forth between them. "So Harry O'Possum MacGillicuddy Guakomoli, The Motherfucking Guak, before I wake your ass up so you can be righteous and crack some Third Reich skulls, do you want to have your way with either of these fine honeys? Or both? Or maybe just watch them make out? It's pretty hot."
"No, I'm good," The Guak answered. "But I have a question: why go through all of this trouble with the elaborate scenario instead of just bringing me directly to The Pink?"
"I'm the patron saint of dirty thoughts. I've got some wiggle room here, but I still got a mandate."
Friday, May 13, 2011
Part XI: The Guak's Family, New And Old (Part II)
Harry Guakomoli found the whole thing surreal. But he knew it wasn't time for thinking. It was time for action. The Guak preferred action time. Thinking time was for pussies. He began to stand up only to feel The Amazon's hands on his shoulders holding him down.
"Please think of the Tijuana knife fight, baby," begged The Amazon with a trace of desperation.
"I distinctly said 'it's action time' in my head," The Guak snarled. "No one tells me to think, harpy."
Having said that, The Guak grabbed his no-longer-beloved's right wrist and pulled her arm toward his mouth. He lamented briefly how he would not be allowed to tap that ass right before he bit down hard into The Amazon's arm slightly below her shoulder. His new razor sharp metal teeth sunk in deeply, ripping into flesh and bone and metal and veins and arteries coursing with blood and motor oil before completely tearing her arm off. Our hero jumped to his feet and picked up the severed limb.
The buxom beauty screamed as a torrent of blood and petroleum by-product spewed from her arm. She glared at The Guak, and he knew she wanted him to die...slowly.
"Not going to happen, toots," said The Guak before smashing her in the face with her own arm. The impact knocked her down to the ground, her white nurse's uniform becoming soiled as she landed in the rapidly growing puddle her bodily fluids were making,
The Guak pointed and laughed.
"We really need to stop fucking around, boss," Girl Oslo nervously suggested. "These dwarfs are about to get all up in our bidness."
"They're not dwarfs, Oslo. Dwarfs have over-sized heads and such. These shit birds are anatomically proportionate."
"Except for their tits and dicks you mean."
Girl Oslo grabbed The Guak's hand and bolted for the hangar door. The Guak looked behind him to see the non-dwarfs preparing for action. Some armed themselves with weapons from the crates. Some ran for to the jeeps, motor bikes, and tanks. Several started tending to the doctor. The Amazon had disappeared.
Our hero's sidekick/savior grabbed a pair of grenades from an open crate as the duo sprinted to the exit. With one fluid motion she removed both pins with her teeth and tossed the explosives at the door. The grenades went off in a loud explosion, blowing a hole big enough for The Guak and his lady cat Friday to run through with ease.
The Guak expected to find himself outside, but that was not the case. Instead, our hero and Girl Oslo were in a giant stone hallway with no end in sight. The lady cat keep sprinting with a confused Guak close behind.
"How is this possible?! This makes no sense!" shouted The Guak.
"You haven't figured it out yet? Are you retarded?" snapped Girl Oslo.
"A little, yeah," he answered softly.
The pair continued down the neverending hallway. Our hero took another look to assess what was happening behind them. The tiny...men?...were in hot pursuit. Non-dwarfs driving jeeps. Non-dwarfs driving motorcyles with gatling gun-mounted sidecars. Non-dwarfs brandishing bazookas. Then they yield for the tank.
The Guak utilized his new telescopic vision to zoom in on the approaching tank. The Amazon sat atop, straddling the cannon. No longer in the dress stained with blood and motor oil, she sported a tight drab green t-shirt bunched up past her tummy and tied in a knot just below her breasts, which somehow had grown even larger, super short camouflage cut-offs, and combat boots. And an eye patch for some inexplicable reason. Her stump of a right arm was bandaged up while her left, and only, hand gripped a 50-caliber machine gun. Revenge and murder were in her eyes.
Our hero turned his attention back in front of him only to find the hallway coming to an end in another mile.
"Oslo! There's a wall coming up ahead, but there's no door!" The Guak exclaimed.
"Look closer, boss!"
The Guak zoomed in to see a pink circle in the wall, roughly 6' in diameter. A thin miniscule opening ran the entire length of the circle from top to bottom.
"There's no way we're fittin' through that!" observed The Guak.
"Oh ye of little faith," commented Girl Oslo. "It will expand to accommodate you. You'll fit I assure you, though from the looks of things we won't get there in time."
Our hero looked behind them. The Amazon and the wee brigade were gaining serious ground. Girl Oslo was correct: they were right fucked. His no longer four-legged friend stopped suddenly. "You need to keep going, boss. I'll hold them off. Your survival is essential."
"That's crazy talk. We're in this together," said The Guak firmly. He just couldn't see throwing his best friend, his only friend, to the wolves. Especially since Oslo had grown a fantastic pair of lady lumps.
"There's a point to all this. And the answer lies in The Pink. Go. I love you, boss."
"I love you, Olso."
The pair embraced each other tightly. And then the two kissed. Weird, I know. But they separated only when The Guak could no longer take Girl Oslo's sandpaper tongue.
Girl Oslo turned towards their pursuers. Her claws fully extended. These assholes were about to learn they messed with the wrong pussy. Sure, she fucked with them first, but two wrongs don't make a right. The felin fatale dragged her tongue down the entire length of her right arm and then her left. She hissed and charged towards the Maschinemensch Militia.
The Guak drew a deep breath before dashing towards The Pink. Ten feet before the wall he dove, plunging headfirst into the slit.
(concluded Monday!)
"Please think of the Tijuana knife fight, baby," begged The Amazon with a trace of desperation.
"I distinctly said 'it's action time' in my head," The Guak snarled. "No one tells me to think, harpy."
Having said that, The Guak grabbed his no-longer-beloved's right wrist and pulled her arm toward his mouth. He lamented briefly how he would not be allowed to tap that ass right before he bit down hard into The Amazon's arm slightly below her shoulder. His new razor sharp metal teeth sunk in deeply, ripping into flesh and bone and metal and veins and arteries coursing with blood and motor oil before completely tearing her arm off. Our hero jumped to his feet and picked up the severed limb.
The buxom beauty screamed as a torrent of blood and petroleum by-product spewed from her arm. She glared at The Guak, and he knew she wanted him to die...slowly.
"Not going to happen, toots," said The Guak before smashing her in the face with her own arm. The impact knocked her down to the ground, her white nurse's uniform becoming soiled as she landed in the rapidly growing puddle her bodily fluids were making,
The Guak pointed and laughed.
"We really need to stop fucking around, boss," Girl Oslo nervously suggested. "These dwarfs are about to get all up in our bidness."
"They're not dwarfs, Oslo. Dwarfs have over-sized heads and such. These shit birds are anatomically proportionate."
"Except for their tits and dicks you mean."
Girl Oslo grabbed The Guak's hand and bolted for the hangar door. The Guak looked behind him to see the non-dwarfs preparing for action. Some armed themselves with weapons from the crates. Some ran for to the jeeps, motor bikes, and tanks. Several started tending to the doctor. The Amazon had disappeared.
Our hero's sidekick/savior grabbed a pair of grenades from an open crate as the duo sprinted to the exit. With one fluid motion she removed both pins with her teeth and tossed the explosives at the door. The grenades went off in a loud explosion, blowing a hole big enough for The Guak and his lady cat Friday to run through with ease.
The Guak expected to find himself outside, but that was not the case. Instead, our hero and Girl Oslo were in a giant stone hallway with no end in sight. The lady cat keep sprinting with a confused Guak close behind.
"How is this possible?! This makes no sense!" shouted The Guak.
"You haven't figured it out yet? Are you retarded?" snapped Girl Oslo.
"A little, yeah," he answered softly.
The pair continued down the neverending hallway. Our hero took another look to assess what was happening behind them. The tiny...men?...were in hot pursuit. Non-dwarfs driving jeeps. Non-dwarfs driving motorcyles with gatling gun-mounted sidecars. Non-dwarfs brandishing bazookas. Then they yield for the tank.
The Guak utilized his new telescopic vision to zoom in on the approaching tank. The Amazon sat atop, straddling the cannon. No longer in the dress stained with blood and motor oil, she sported a tight drab green t-shirt bunched up past her tummy and tied in a knot just below her breasts, which somehow had grown even larger, super short camouflage cut-offs, and combat boots. And an eye patch for some inexplicable reason. Her stump of a right arm was bandaged up while her left, and only, hand gripped a 50-caliber machine gun. Revenge and murder were in her eyes.
Our hero turned his attention back in front of him only to find the hallway coming to an end in another mile.
"Oslo! There's a wall coming up ahead, but there's no door!" The Guak exclaimed.
"Look closer, boss!"
The Guak zoomed in to see a pink circle in the wall, roughly 6' in diameter. A thin miniscule opening ran the entire length of the circle from top to bottom.
"There's no way we're fittin' through that!" observed The Guak.
"Oh ye of little faith," commented Girl Oslo. "It will expand to accommodate you. You'll fit I assure you, though from the looks of things we won't get there in time."
Our hero looked behind them. The Amazon and the wee brigade were gaining serious ground. Girl Oslo was correct: they were right fucked. His no longer four-legged friend stopped suddenly. "You need to keep going, boss. I'll hold them off. Your survival is essential."
"That's crazy talk. We're in this together," said The Guak firmly. He just couldn't see throwing his best friend, his only friend, to the wolves. Especially since Oslo had grown a fantastic pair of lady lumps.
"There's a point to all this. And the answer lies in The Pink. Go. I love you, boss."
"I love you, Olso."
The pair embraced each other tightly. And then the two kissed. Weird, I know. But they separated only when The Guak could no longer take Girl Oslo's sandpaper tongue.
Girl Oslo turned towards their pursuers. Her claws fully extended. These assholes were about to learn they messed with the wrong pussy. Sure, she fucked with them first, but two wrongs don't make a right. The felin fatale dragged her tongue down the entire length of her right arm and then her left. She hissed and charged towards the Maschinemensch Militia.
The Guak drew a deep breath before dashing towards The Pink. Ten feet before the wall he dove, plunging headfirst into the slit.
(concluded Monday!)
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Part XI: The Guak's Family, New And Old (Part I)
Harry Guakomoli woke up covered in sweat, the sheets of his bed sticking to his flesh. His brain pounded at what felt like a thousand times a second.
"Thank heavens! You are finally awake, my beloved!" a sultry woman's voice exclaimed from wherever The Guak had found himself.
Our hero gave his eyes some time to adjust. Standing before him was The Amazon. Her black leather catsuit was replaced with a tight white nurse's dress. The kind you would find some pin-up girl wearing in a '50s cheesecake calendar. A white paper hat with a red cross sat atop her head, her flaxen locks in a tight bun. A pair of white thigh-high stockings ran up her legs ending mere inches before her short dress began, complimented by a pair of red stiletto heels.
"It was touch-and-go for a while, honey, but the operation was a success," The Amazon said while The Guak's hand in her own. He looked up to stare into those baby blues of hers but his gaze fell short and stopped at the copious amounts of cleavage, the amazonian shit house's massive alabaster breasts threatened to break free of their cloth prison.
"What operation?" asked The Guak as he continued to stare at the bombshell's colossal bosom, which looked much larger than when it did in the cat suit.
"Why, the procedure to make you more machine than man, darling," answered The Amazon. "You have so many roboparts now, my dear.Not only can your teeth rip to shreds any brute that dares try to take your betrothed from you, but now your cybernetic limbs allow you to lift three tons and fun at 80 mph. Both eyes have been replaced with machine parts allowing for telescopic, microscopic, infrared, ultraviolet, and x-ray visions."
Our hero put the woman's statement to the test, using his new x-ray vision to peek through the lady's garments to the goods beneath. He zoomed in and out on her curves. The dame wasn't laying, and this pleased The Guak mightily.
"Do my eyes come with lasers?" The Guak asked.
"Oh, you!" giggled The Amazon. "Perhaps heat vision can be part of the next upgrade. Our father wants you to be happy in your new life."
"Our father?"
She climbed atop The Guak, pressing her body against his. "Doktor Maschinemensch of course. He may be our father, but you will be my 'Daddy.'"
This hot piece of ass started kissing our hero's lips with fire engine red ones of her own. He was a bit turned off by the idea of the two sharing a father but not enough to push her away. In fact, he kissed her back while his hands found their way up and down her dangerous curves. They ended up under her dress, rubbing and massaging her sweet can. The Amazon's bottom seemed softer and plumper than The Guak imagined. But he did not care - he craved this statuesque beauty the moment he laid eyes on her, which amounted to about two hours before he lost consciousness.
The mother of The Guak's future robochildren pulled away. "There will be plenty of time for carnal exploration, Daddy. Father wants to see you now that you are awake."
She handed The Guak a robe and waited for her lover to cover himself up. The Amazon took his hand and led him outside of the room to an expansive hangar. The space was filled with jeeps and motor bikes, a few tanks, a small jet, crates marked with terms such as "explosive" "biohazard" and "top secret," and crazy machines outfitted with wires and motors. The place reeked of gas.
Off to the side was a large tent and from said tent emerged Doktor Maschinemensch, but her was...different. The liver spots were gone, and he walked, nearly strutted, without the aid of his cane. His white hair tied back into a ponytail, his blue eyes positively sparkled. Underneath a pristine white lab coat the doctor sported muscles that yearned to tear apart the tight black t-shirt that hid them from the outside world. His black jeans were just as tight, and the visible bulge The Guak most certainly did not want to see.
"Welcome to the headquarters of the Maschinemensch Militia, General Guakomoli!" exclaimed the doctor, his German accent now completely non-existent. "Do you like the sound of 'General Guakomoli' my son?"
"It certainly has a nice ring to it, Doktor Maschinemensch," our hero answered. "Everything sounds perfect."
"That's because it is. You will be my commander on the field, and off the field you can have your way with Colonel Ingrid. You will be my stud bull. The world's inhabitants will bow down to me and recognize me as their overlord. Starting with you, General."
"Come again?" asked The Guak incredulously, not sure if he heard correctly.
"I demand complete subservience from my underlings. And while you will wield an awesome amount of authority you will still be my servant, General. And I am your master."
This did not sit well with The Guak. The idea of pitying fools and then fucking them was highly appealing, not to mention bedding that bionic betty relentlessly. Our hero thought that sounded fucking amazing. But The Guak bowed down to no man, even ones who promised him the world. And an amazonian shit house.
"I'm waiting, General," said the doctor coldly. "Get on your hands and knees and kiss my feet. Now."
The Guak did not oblige Doktor Maschinemensch. He instead folded his arms and stared into his aspiring master's piercing blue eyes. The doctor reached into the pocket of his lab coat and pulled out a smooth metal dowel with a number of white wires that ran from top to bottom. Maschinemensch pushed in a large red button connected to the rod with his thumb. A sharp pain ripped through out hero's head, and he staggered. Another touch of the button caused more cerebral torment.
"I suspected your obedience might be a challenge to obtain so I took some measures to ensure it. Make it easy on yourself, Mr. Guakomoli. Accept your new role."
More shocks tore through The Guak's brain. The nigh unbearable, but he still managed to stand his ground. He wasn't going to be this asshole's bitch.
"Please, baby, do what he says, and I'll turn every fantasy of yours into reality," The Amazon purred into The Guak's ear, attempting a new approach.
"Even a Tijuana knife fight?" asked our hero.
"Yes, Daddy. Even the El Toro Loco variation."
Doktor Maschinemensch and his voluptuous henchwoman laid it on thick, alternating between the carrot and the stick. The Guak's mind was turning to mush, and all he wanted was for the pain to go away. And get frisky with The Amazon. Our hero finally fell to his knees and prepared to kiss the feet of his new master. The Guak looked up into the doctor's eyes. Deep down in those sapphire blue orbs were The Gates Of Hell. His overlord smiled a cruel smile, and it was then and there that The Guak knew Docktor Klaus Maschinemensch was Lucifer himself and he was at his mercy.
But from seemingly out of nowhere our hero saw a brown blur streak in front of him. The control rod dropped to the floor beside him along with the doctor's severed hand. To his left stood a 5' tall bipedal feline, blood dripping from its right clawed hand. It was obviously a female cats, its furry breasts nearly as large as The Amazon's. What kind of deranged freak show was this crackpot running?
"Motherfucker!" screamed the doctor while he held his stump with his one remaining hand in a futile effort to staunch the blood spraying from his wrist. "I knew that cat was going to be trouble! Eins, Zwei, Achtzehn, Siebenundsiebzig, Hundert! All of my boys! Papa is under attack!"
From behind crates, from inside the vehicles, and from trap doors in the floor, the doctor's dimunitive underlings emerged. They were naked, each one baring large breasts and a massive phallus that went below their knees. The Guak was confused but mostly impressed with how they were able to conceal their anatomy under their coveralls earlier. But then he became fixated on the wee ones' faces: their curly blond hair, their dead blue eyes. It was then that our hero realized why they seemed familiar. And he wanted them all dead.
"There's no time to admire the view, dawg. We gotta vamoose!" Oslo cried from the left. Oslo! The Guak turned his head around to find his friend, but the cat lady was the only feline our hero could see.
"Yoo-hoo, Guak! I'm right here!" yelled the cat lady with Oslo's voice.
The Guak stared and scratched his head.
"There's no time for you to sort this out right now, boss!" exclaimed Girl Oslo. "Come with me if you want to live."
(continued Friday (or maybe Monday...))
"Thank heavens! You are finally awake, my beloved!" a sultry woman's voice exclaimed from wherever The Guak had found himself.
Our hero gave his eyes some time to adjust. Standing before him was The Amazon. Her black leather catsuit was replaced with a tight white nurse's dress. The kind you would find some pin-up girl wearing in a '50s cheesecake calendar. A white paper hat with a red cross sat atop her head, her flaxen locks in a tight bun. A pair of white thigh-high stockings ran up her legs ending mere inches before her short dress began, complimented by a pair of red stiletto heels.
"It was touch-and-go for a while, honey, but the operation was a success," The Amazon said while The Guak's hand in her own. He looked up to stare into those baby blues of hers but his gaze fell short and stopped at the copious amounts of cleavage, the amazonian shit house's massive alabaster breasts threatened to break free of their cloth prison.
"What operation?" asked The Guak as he continued to stare at the bombshell's colossal bosom, which looked much larger than when it did in the cat suit.
"Why, the procedure to make you more machine than man, darling," answered The Amazon. "You have so many roboparts now, my dear.Not only can your teeth rip to shreds any brute that dares try to take your betrothed from you, but now your cybernetic limbs allow you to lift three tons and fun at 80 mph. Both eyes have been replaced with machine parts allowing for telescopic, microscopic, infrared, ultraviolet, and x-ray visions."
Our hero put the woman's statement to the test, using his new x-ray vision to peek through the lady's garments to the goods beneath. He zoomed in and out on her curves. The dame wasn't laying, and this pleased The Guak mightily.
"Do my eyes come with lasers?" The Guak asked.
"Oh, you!" giggled The Amazon. "Perhaps heat vision can be part of the next upgrade. Our father wants you to be happy in your new life."
"Our father?"
She climbed atop The Guak, pressing her body against his. "Doktor Maschinemensch of course. He may be our father, but you will be my 'Daddy.'"
This hot piece of ass started kissing our hero's lips with fire engine red ones of her own. He was a bit turned off by the idea of the two sharing a father but not enough to push her away. In fact, he kissed her back while his hands found their way up and down her dangerous curves. They ended up under her dress, rubbing and massaging her sweet can. The Amazon's bottom seemed softer and plumper than The Guak imagined. But he did not care - he craved this statuesque beauty the moment he laid eyes on her, which amounted to about two hours before he lost consciousness.
The mother of The Guak's future robochildren pulled away. "There will be plenty of time for carnal exploration, Daddy. Father wants to see you now that you are awake."
She handed The Guak a robe and waited for her lover to cover himself up. The Amazon took his hand and led him outside of the room to an expansive hangar. The space was filled with jeeps and motor bikes, a few tanks, a small jet, crates marked with terms such as "explosive" "biohazard" and "top secret," and crazy machines outfitted with wires and motors. The place reeked of gas.
Off to the side was a large tent and from said tent emerged Doktor Maschinemensch, but her was...different. The liver spots were gone, and he walked, nearly strutted, without the aid of his cane. His white hair tied back into a ponytail, his blue eyes positively sparkled. Underneath a pristine white lab coat the doctor sported muscles that yearned to tear apart the tight black t-shirt that hid them from the outside world. His black jeans were just as tight, and the visible bulge The Guak most certainly did not want to see.
"Welcome to the headquarters of the Maschinemensch Militia, General Guakomoli!" exclaimed the doctor, his German accent now completely non-existent. "Do you like the sound of 'General Guakomoli' my son?"
"It certainly has a nice ring to it, Doktor Maschinemensch," our hero answered. "Everything sounds perfect."
"That's because it is. You will be my commander on the field, and off the field you can have your way with Colonel Ingrid. You will be my stud bull. The world's inhabitants will bow down to me and recognize me as their overlord. Starting with you, General."
"Come again?" asked The Guak incredulously, not sure if he heard correctly.
"I demand complete subservience from my underlings. And while you will wield an awesome amount of authority you will still be my servant, General. And I am your master."
This did not sit well with The Guak. The idea of pitying fools and then fucking them was highly appealing, not to mention bedding that bionic betty relentlessly. Our hero thought that sounded fucking amazing. But The Guak bowed down to no man, even ones who promised him the world. And an amazonian shit house.
"I'm waiting, General," said the doctor coldly. "Get on your hands and knees and kiss my feet. Now."
The Guak did not oblige Doktor Maschinemensch. He instead folded his arms and stared into his aspiring master's piercing blue eyes. The doctor reached into the pocket of his lab coat and pulled out a smooth metal dowel with a number of white wires that ran from top to bottom. Maschinemensch pushed in a large red button connected to the rod with his thumb. A sharp pain ripped through out hero's head, and he staggered. Another touch of the button caused more cerebral torment.
"I suspected your obedience might be a challenge to obtain so I took some measures to ensure it. Make it easy on yourself, Mr. Guakomoli. Accept your new role."
More shocks tore through The Guak's brain. The nigh unbearable, but he still managed to stand his ground. He wasn't going to be this asshole's bitch.
"Please, baby, do what he says, and I'll turn every fantasy of yours into reality," The Amazon purred into The Guak's ear, attempting a new approach.
"Even a Tijuana knife fight?" asked our hero.
"Yes, Daddy. Even the El Toro Loco variation."
Doktor Maschinemensch and his voluptuous henchwoman laid it on thick, alternating between the carrot and the stick. The Guak's mind was turning to mush, and all he wanted was for the pain to go away. And get frisky with The Amazon. Our hero finally fell to his knees and prepared to kiss the feet of his new master. The Guak looked up into the doctor's eyes. Deep down in those sapphire blue orbs were The Gates Of Hell. His overlord smiled a cruel smile, and it was then and there that The Guak knew Docktor Klaus Maschinemensch was Lucifer himself and he was at his mercy.
But from seemingly out of nowhere our hero saw a brown blur streak in front of him. The control rod dropped to the floor beside him along with the doctor's severed hand. To his left stood a 5' tall bipedal feline, blood dripping from its right clawed hand. It was obviously a female cats, its furry breasts nearly as large as The Amazon's. What kind of deranged freak show was this crackpot running?
"Motherfucker!" screamed the doctor while he held his stump with his one remaining hand in a futile effort to staunch the blood spraying from his wrist. "I knew that cat was going to be trouble! Eins, Zwei, Achtzehn, Siebenundsiebzig, Hundert! All of my boys! Papa is under attack!"
From behind crates, from inside the vehicles, and from trap doors in the floor, the doctor's dimunitive underlings emerged. They were naked, each one baring large breasts and a massive phallus that went below their knees. The Guak was confused but mostly impressed with how they were able to conceal their anatomy under their coveralls earlier. But then he became fixated on the wee ones' faces: their curly blond hair, their dead blue eyes. It was then that our hero realized why they seemed familiar. And he wanted them all dead.
"There's no time to admire the view, dawg. We gotta vamoose!" Oslo cried from the left. Oslo! The Guak turned his head around to find his friend, but the cat lady was the only feline our hero could see.
"Yoo-hoo, Guak! I'm right here!" yelled the cat lady with Oslo's voice.
The Guak stared and scratched his head.
"There's no time for you to sort this out right now, boss!" exclaimed Girl Oslo. "Come with me if you want to live."
(continued Friday (or maybe Monday...))
Part X: There's Always A Catch (Or Two)
Harry Guakomoli yawned as Doktor Maschinemensch finished his tale. "Where's your son now, doctor? I would like to see how he's doing." And kill him. Kill him good. "Sadly," answered the man, "my dear Maximillian got mixed up in the pornography business and died a year later in a Tijuana knife fight." The Guak wondered if a "Tijuana knife fight" was some sexual maneuver.
Harry Guakomoli was, truth be told, most intrigued by the proposition. "Lemme get this straight," asked The Guak. "You fit me with roboparts and I get to get busy with the amazonian shit house over there?" The doctor merely nodded and smiled. "What do you plan to do about my teeth? And what about Oslo?" Oslo was lapping away at The Guak's unwanted soup, which suited our hero just fine.
Harry Guakomoli fought through the feeling of exhaustion that suddenly hit him like a ton of bricks. The night before must have been catching up to him. "Your broken teeth vill be replaced vith sharpened scrap metal. You vill be capable of biting through almost all known substances known to man."
Harry Guakomoli was less than thrilled with the idea of pointed metal teeth. "Und your Katze I find most curious. It speaks und is highly intelligent? I vant to cut into its brain und see vhat I can find." The Guak found the highly intelligent part highly questionable.
Harry Guakomoli had heard enough of the mad scientist's plan. The Guak jumped up ready to give this nutjob some kisses with his fists, but his mind began to spin. It became quite obvious exhaustion wasn't the culprit. Our hero collapsed, his head banging the table hard as he descended to the stone floor. "Mein Gott! I vas afraid the soup vouldn't vork before he vent all Affeschiesse on us! Drag him to his new chambers."
Harry Guakomoli was, truth be told, most intrigued by the proposition. "Lemme get this straight," asked The Guak. "You fit me with roboparts and I get to get busy with the amazonian shit house over there?" The doctor merely nodded and smiled. "What do you plan to do about my teeth? And what about Oslo?" Oslo was lapping away at The Guak's unwanted soup, which suited our hero just fine.
Harry Guakomoli fought through the feeling of exhaustion that suddenly hit him like a ton of bricks. The night before must have been catching up to him. "Your broken teeth vill be replaced vith sharpened scrap metal. You vill be capable of biting through almost all known substances known to man."
Harry Guakomoli was less than thrilled with the idea of pointed metal teeth. "Und your Katze I find most curious. It speaks und is highly intelligent? I vant to cut into its brain und see vhat I can find." The Guak found the highly intelligent part highly questionable.
Harry Guakomoli had heard enough of the mad scientist's plan. The Guak jumped up ready to give this nutjob some kisses with his fists, but his mind began to spin. It became quite obvious exhaustion wasn't the culprit. Our hero collapsed, his head banging the table hard as he descended to the stone floor. "Mein Gott! I vas afraid the soup vouldn't vork before he vent all Affeschiesse on us! Drag him to his new chambers."
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Part IX: The Guak's Bodega Blues
Harry Guakomoli had only been up for half an hour and was already heading out for some cerveza at the neighborhood bodega. The Guak lived on the outskirts of The City's barrio yet never learned a lick of Spanish.
"Joder Espanol," Oslo had always said.
Our hero strolled leisurely towards the bodega, passing the vivacious Yo-Yo Ramirez as she sat on her stoop strapping on roller skates. The Guak shot her a wink and flashed her a smile, his perfect set of pearly whites glistening as the sun's rays struck them. The lovely senorita waved and returned The Guak's grin with one of her own.
The Guak made it to the bodega and gave a manly nod to Pedro, Pablo, and Paco. He considered referring to them as "The Three Amigos" but thought better of it: it was too easy. He had come up with nothing else so he decided not to call them anything.
Pedro, Pablo, and Paco hung outside the bodega day after day praying some rich bitch would pull up in her Benz or Rolls and pay them for lawn maintenance, or better yet, sex. Those boys had such lofty goals.
Before stepping into the shop this yarn's protagonist looked down the alleyway that ran alongside it. Blood stained the walls and ground. The Guak recalled fondly how, just a few weeks prior, his crime-fighting partner, Tugboat Jones, and himself caused those stains by savagely wrecking most of the Los Fuegos Polos gang. The crew's leader, La Diabla, had offered The Guak some hanky panky in return for her freedom. He agreed but then reneged on the deal: The Guak doesn't negotiate with thugs. Even thugs with killer racks.
Harry Guakomoli chuckled as he remembered how he fooled La Diabla. What a dummy. Tugboat might have been gone, but the memories remained. Good times, good times. So lost in the past was our protagonist he didn't notice Chevy Cavalier careening out of control until it crashed into the bodega's storefront and crushed Pedro, Pablo, and Paco.
The noise jostled The Guak out of his pleasant reminiscence He looked over to the bodega, smoke pouring out of the smashed window.
"Shit! The beer!" The Guak roared as he charged towards the shop. On his way he springboarded off the body of Pedro (or it may have been Pablo; it was hard to tell with the large shard of glass embedded in the Mexican's face) and into the bodega.
Inside an inferno raged. Visibility was next to zero, the smoke was so intense. But The Guak knew exactly where the beer cooler was located. Having ventured to the bodega at least once a day every day ever since Senor Chavez stopped selling to Oslo after The World's Smartest Cat teabagged the proprietor's wife, our hero knew the store's layout like the back of his hand. The Guak blindly made his way to the cooler only to find the Cavalier had driven into it, pulverizing every bottle in the cases. Now The Guak was pissed.
Our hero fell to his knees, threw his hands into the air, and looked to the heavens. "Noooooooooooo!" The Guak screamed, his plans for the day clearly ruined. After getting that out of his system he noticed a man laying beside him choking. Blood poured out of a deep gash in his forehead and stained his mop of curly blond hair. The Guak knew every gringo brave enough to enter the bodega and this man was a complete unknown. He must be the driver of that shit box that had fucked up our hero's plans, and this asshole had some explaining to do.
Harry Guakomoli stood up and lifted the driver up by his neck and stared into his barely opened blue eyes. The Guak's strength was draining but locating the source of his rage had pumped enough energy in him to keep going.
"Why? WHY!?" our hero barked at the dying man. There was no answer from the man save for coughing.
The Guak needed to get out of there and fast. He was tempted to leave the driver to his fate in the conflagration; crossing The Guak was a mistake seldom made twice. But then a sharp pain tore through The Guak's brain. His conscience was messing with him. He sighed heavily before slinging the near comatose man over his shoulder and trudging through debris.
Safety was mere feet away. Our hero made it to the destroyed window and leapt to the outside. He landed on Paco's separated torso (or was it Pablo's?). The blood and exposed entrails made the torso quite slippery, sending The Guak and his dude-in-distress flying.
The Guak landed on his back hard. The adrenaline finally drained from his body, and he no longer had the strength to move.It was then that the car finally exploded and Chavez's Groceria was no more. Everything started going dark for The Guak.
Before losing consciousness our hero muttered "if that fucktard survives I'm gonna kill 'im."
"Joder Espanol," Oslo had always said.
Our hero strolled leisurely towards the bodega, passing the vivacious Yo-Yo Ramirez as she sat on her stoop strapping on roller skates. The Guak shot her a wink and flashed her a smile, his perfect set of pearly whites glistening as the sun's rays struck them. The lovely senorita waved and returned The Guak's grin with one of her own.
The Guak made it to the bodega and gave a manly nod to Pedro, Pablo, and Paco. He considered referring to them as "The Three Amigos" but thought better of it: it was too easy. He had come up with nothing else so he decided not to call them anything.
Pedro, Pablo, and Paco hung outside the bodega day after day praying some rich bitch would pull up in her Benz or Rolls and pay them for lawn maintenance, or better yet, sex. Those boys had such lofty goals.
Before stepping into the shop this yarn's protagonist looked down the alleyway that ran alongside it. Blood stained the walls and ground. The Guak recalled fondly how, just a few weeks prior, his crime-fighting partner, Tugboat Jones, and himself caused those stains by savagely wrecking most of the Los Fuegos Polos gang. The crew's leader, La Diabla, had offered The Guak some hanky panky in return for her freedom. He agreed but then reneged on the deal: The Guak doesn't negotiate with thugs. Even thugs with killer racks.
Harry Guakomoli chuckled as he remembered how he fooled La Diabla. What a dummy. Tugboat might have been gone, but the memories remained. Good times, good times. So lost in the past was our protagonist he didn't notice Chevy Cavalier careening out of control until it crashed into the bodega's storefront and crushed Pedro, Pablo, and Paco.
The noise jostled The Guak out of his pleasant reminiscence He looked over to the bodega, smoke pouring out of the smashed window.
"Shit! The beer!" The Guak roared as he charged towards the shop. On his way he springboarded off the body of Pedro (or it may have been Pablo; it was hard to tell with the large shard of glass embedded in the Mexican's face) and into the bodega.
Inside an inferno raged. Visibility was next to zero, the smoke was so intense. But The Guak knew exactly where the beer cooler was located. Having ventured to the bodega at least once a day every day ever since Senor Chavez stopped selling to Oslo after The World's Smartest Cat teabagged the proprietor's wife, our hero knew the store's layout like the back of his hand. The Guak blindly made his way to the cooler only to find the Cavalier had driven into it, pulverizing every bottle in the cases. Now The Guak was pissed.
Our hero fell to his knees, threw his hands into the air, and looked to the heavens. "Noooooooooooo!" The Guak screamed, his plans for the day clearly ruined. After getting that out of his system he noticed a man laying beside him choking. Blood poured out of a deep gash in his forehead and stained his mop of curly blond hair. The Guak knew every gringo brave enough to enter the bodega and this man was a complete unknown. He must be the driver of that shit box that had fucked up our hero's plans, and this asshole had some explaining to do.
Harry Guakomoli stood up and lifted the driver up by his neck and stared into his barely opened blue eyes. The Guak's strength was draining but locating the source of his rage had pumped enough energy in him to keep going.
"Why? WHY!?" our hero barked at the dying man. There was no answer from the man save for coughing.
The Guak needed to get out of there and fast. He was tempted to leave the driver to his fate in the conflagration; crossing The Guak was a mistake seldom made twice. But then a sharp pain tore through The Guak's brain. His conscience was messing with him. He sighed heavily before slinging the near comatose man over his shoulder and trudging through debris.
Safety was mere feet away. Our hero made it to the destroyed window and leapt to the outside. He landed on Paco's separated torso (or was it Pablo's?). The blood and exposed entrails made the torso quite slippery, sending The Guak and his dude-in-distress flying.
The Guak landed on his back hard. The adrenaline finally drained from his body, and he no longer had the strength to move.It was then that the car finally exploded and Chavez's Groceria was no more. Everything started going dark for The Guak.
Before losing consciousness our hero muttered "if that fucktard survives I'm gonna kill 'im."
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