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A little story to welcome Coyotek back from self-imposed exile, featuring his lusty cheetah, Geno. The picture that this relates to (which I strongly suggest you look at first, otherwise some things in this story won't make sense) can be found at: http://www.sofurry.com/page/197554

Lordy, The Rings!

Volume II - The Twin Peaks

Book IV - Are We There Yet?

Chapter XXXVII - Backdoor to Mordor

Geno sniffled and wiped her snout as she crouched in a cleft in the rock that barely gave shelter from the constant wind and rain of this desolate place. The constant drizzle had soaked her short blond hair and was dripping onto her considerable bust. She stirred despondently at a pot of shoelace soup that was barely kept above room temperature by the sputtering, oily fire she had built from scraps of local vegetation and Orc dung. She wished that she was back safe in the Shire.

The Shire was Furry territory, and home to Geno Gamgee and the family she worked for. Most of the folk that could be considered 'proper' Furries lived in the village of Furriton. There were all types there; foxes, racoons, canines, felines and a few cheetahs like Geno. They all dwelled peacefully together in the Shire, but they lived in holes rather than houses, a tradition held over from ancient times.

Furries were known for eating several large meals and numerous snacks each day, for spending hours on the Internet, and especially for the comfort of their holes. Furry holes were warm, comfortable, welcoming places, and Geno was known to have one of the warmest and most accommodating. She had several, in fact, and shared them with many a neighbour or passer by she encountered in the local pub after downing several pints of the local brew. But while they were warm and inviting, Furry holes were often damp, and a traveler was wise to don something rubber before coming inside.

A moan came from deeper in the crack they had sought shelter in. Marcel was having another nightmare, a frequent occurrence since he had become Ring bearer and one that was becoming more and more common as they approached Mordor. Geno wished that she could comfort the little black fox that was her master, but realized that he would have no peace until he had cast the ring of the evil lord Sauron into the cracks of doom.

A pebble bounced off the rock beside her head and she looked up quickly, right into the luminous yellow eyes of Golem, the evil, twisted creature that was guiding them into Sauron's stronghold.

"Hey! What are you up to?" She scolded as she jumped up and grabbed the hilt of her sword. "Sneaking about again?"

The pathetic being curled his gnarly digits and hissed at her, and might have gone for her throat then and there, but hesitated as Marcel's weak voice called out: "Geno? What's going on Geno? Are you picking on Joel Again?"

Geno dropped her paw from her sword and hurried to Marcel's side while the creature cowered dramatically and whined as if she had been beating him. It was no use arguing with Marcel, he was too kind hearted to see through Golem's duplicity.

The old silver-furred fox wizard, Silver the Silver, had recounted the tale of the wretched individual now called Golem. Golem was a kind of Furry himself, once known as Joel the Lemur. He had possessed Sauron's Ring for countless years, before losing it to Marcel's uncle, Bilbo, in a contest of dirty limericks. Ever since he had hunted for 'his precious'. But the ring, and a lifetime of submitting to BDSM, had twisted the young lemur into the bitter, perverse, murderous stalker known as Golem. Since Silver had been lost to them in the mines of Moria Marcel was the only one still capable of seeing traces of Joel in the little warped primate.

"Joel, has Geno been picking on you again?" Marcel asked wearily.

"I'm not Joel." The creature said grumpily. "I'm a sneak. Wise mistress Geno says I'm a sneak so that is what I is. A sneak and a thief."

"Thief?" Marcel looked alarmed and began rummaging in his pockets. "The ring! Where is my ring?"

Geno grabbed his paws and looked him in the eye. "Probably hanging where it always has since the council gave it to your charge." She reminded him. "Hidden from sight under your clothes.

Marcel gasped and fumbled with his buttons. Opening the fly on his trousers he pulled a large but flaccid penis from within. There, on the bulbous head of his cock, inserted through the pinkish flesh, hung a large golden ring, the one ring, Isuldur's Bain. The same ring that the legendary hero had ripped from the end of Sauron's prick, only to suffer a massive infection when he had it inserted in his own. The fox relaxed at the sight of his Prince Albert, and slumped back to the ground comatose, his genitals and the ring still exposed.

"My precious!" Golem squealed, and he lunged for Marcel's groin.

Geno drew her sword and placed the blade against his throat. "Keep you paws off that ring!"

"The ring?" Golem's eyes were locked on the limp tube of flesh just out of his reach. "Oh .... yesss, the ring.' He slowly drew his paws back. "Of course, I was going for the ring."

The commotion had woken Marcel, who opened his eyes to see his servant Geno with her sword at the lemur's throat for no apparent reason. "Geno! What are doing to the poor fellow?"

"She hates me." Golem wailed and fell to the ground to grovel at her feet. "Don't kill poor Joel. Please great mistress, don't kills us dead."

"Now Joel, don't act so." Marcel tried to mollify him. "Geno is sorry she called you a sneak, I'm sure. She just hasn't taken to you yet."

"I'll take something to him;" Geno mumbled, "something long, steel and pointy."

"What was that, Geno?"

"I said," she raised her voice, "that supper is almost ready." She pointed back to where their old shoelaces were simmering in the pot. "Although I wish we had something to add to it. You have been getting awfully thin since we ate the last of the elves biscuits." She sighed, remembering the elves bakery inside a large oak tree in the enchanted forest of Lothlòrien, and the delicious cookies that they had given the ring bearer as a parting gift. But they had consumed the last of the cookies two weeks ago, and they had nothing substantial to eat since.

"Maybe Joel can find us something; he hunts for his own food. Perhaps he can find us a nice coney or some vegetables to add to your stew." Marcel said wistfully.

"I just sneaks, sneaks and peaks, like mistress Geno says."

"Oh, shaddup, or I'll slap you silly." Geno snarled

The former lemur's eyes lit up hopefully. "Oh, would you?"

"No." She admitted. "Besides, there's nothing that grows or crawls in these lands that good folk should eat. Not even taters." The memory of the brown spuds of her homeland brought tears to her eyes, and droll to her mouth.

"What's taters, eh, precious?" Golem asked, always interested in anything that could provoke the flow of bodily fluids.

Taters, 'po-ta-toes', are wonderful warm things that make your insides feel all happy." She informed him.

"Ah, like that there 'dildo' you lost in the old forest that you keep whining about." Golem said excitedly. He cringed in surprise when Geno tried to silence him by squeezing his windpipe closed.

"What's that, did you say that you missed Bilbo?" Marcel asked from his near-stupor.

Geno released the lemur and turned away from Marcel to hide her embarrassment. "Ah ... yessss, I do ... I did ... say that I missed him, that is." One paw slid unconsciously between her legs as the image of the long, purple, double-headed phallus filled her mind. "Terribly."

So caught up in her memories and the sensation of her digit on her swollen clit through three layers of dirty, ragged clothing was she that she did not notice Golem slink off into the gloom.

* * * * * * * *

"We'll teach them, my precious, we will. We'll teach them not to whip poor submissive golem or spank his tender ass like they should." Golem cackled as he scampered over the rocks and boulders.

"But the foxy one, Marcel, he was nice to us." He continued in a softer voice, the voice of Joel. "He puts the shackles on our pawsies and flails us when we's bad, just as we likes. We won't hurt him, will we?"

"No, my precious ... WE won't hurt him. But he has the ring, our precious, and we needs to gets it back."

"But the cat with the huge boobs and all them funny little balloons in the foil packets don't trust us near the master." The Joel voice whined.

"Shelob will take care of her, if the Orcs don't get her first. After Shelob ... uh ... puts master to sleep ... we can gets our precious and leave her for Shelob's lunch."

"And not hurts the nice furry, Marcel?"

"Sure, sure. We'll tell Shelob to let him go when we's done." The Golem voice tried to assure his alter ego.

"But the elvesies have put the ring on the end of ... of his thing." The remnants of Joel squirmed in disgust. "How's we supposed to get it off?"

"We'll think of something." Golem said in a low voice, while licking his lips.

* * * * * * * *

Geno did not realize that Golem had disappeared until the two Furries had finished their shoelace soup.

"Where has that little degenerate gotten to now?" She mumbled as she packed their few belongings into her backpack.

"He has probably gone ahead to scout the route." Marcel said wearily. He found that the Ring was growing heavier the closer they got to their destination, and it weighted on his mind, as well as his penis. "He said that we were near the secret entrance to the tunnel under the mountain."

Geno looked up at the distant towers of the Orc stronghold, Cirith Ungol. The lemur had promised to guide them to Mount Doom by a secret route that he had used to escape Mordor years before. "I hope that you are right to trust him." She sighed as she shouldered the pack. "Let's get started."

They followed the trail that golem had marked with the bones of the small creatures, bits of twig, and dried semen. The trail ended at an opening in the rock at the base of the mountain.

"Think this is it?" Geno asked her master.

Marcel studied the entrance. There were runes on both sides, red circles with a diagonal slash across the silhouette of a Furry. Other placards were covered with words in a strange language. They too were written in bright red, in large font and with many exclamation points, but someone had recently spray-painted graffiti over them, rendering them unreadable.

"This could be it." Marcel concluded. What does this say? 'Be_are!!! Spi__er!!!'?"

"That there be spies inside?"

"How many legs do spies have?" Marcel mussed as he examined an image below the notice that had been all but obscured. "Oh well, never mind. I'm sure it's safe as houses."

"If houses is so safe, why do we live in holes?" Geno mumbled, but faithfully followed her master into the dark.

* * * * * * * *

The dim light from the entrance did not penetrate beyond the first few twists and turns, and it was difficult going. They could sense side tunnels but could see no sign to indicate whether or where they should turn, so they kept to what seemed to be the main passageway. The tunnels were silent and empty, save for the scuttling of small creatures fleeing before them, and the occasional scent of dry, dusty corpses.

"Should we use the lady's gift?" Geno enquired.

In the magic forest of Lothlòrien they had been welcomed by the queen of the western-country elves, Doll-lee of Pärr-ton. She lived in a castle-tree known as Doll-lee Wood, where her subjects danced and sang and played fiddles long into the night. When it was time for the company of the Ring to continue on its quest, she had given each member a gift. To Geno, she had given one of her specially engineered brassieres, for despite her diminutive height and great age she was even bustier than the young Furry.

"Take this." The Queen had said. "It will support you on your journey."

To Marcel she had given a magical light.

"Bend the tube until you hear the glass vial inside snap." She had instructed. "Then shake it well and a magical glow will appear. But it will only last a short while, and can be used but once, so employ it only in times of great need, or at parties." She had advised.

"I don't think so." Marcel answered Geno's question, cutting off her reminiscing. "What about my sword? Let's check to see if we are alone."

Marcel had inherited a magical sword from his uncle, Bilbo. Bilbo had found it in a burial mound while on his first adventure and despite rather strict laws regarding grave robbing had taken it with him. The sword was only as sharp as an ordinary sword when cutting rope or cloth, but could slice through an enemy's armour and bones like there was nothing there. A handy feature for the smaller and weaker species.

Drawing the sword when enemies were about caused a luminous icon to appear above one's head. The icon included the sword bearer's name, their level of skill, and a pair of glowing red and blue bars that indicated strength and health. The length of the bars increased or decreased seemingly at the whim of the gods. All they were sure of was that when the bars were gone, so were you. A similar icon would appear over the head of your enemy, but only when they were close enough to be selected for individual combat.

One could find one's way by the glow of icon in dark places such as this, but they also made one an easy target for one's enemies, who need only keep to the shadows and attack at will. Perhaps, she mused, that was why such weapons were most often found beside corpses with enough arrows in them to resemble porcupines.

Geno drew the sword cautiously, ready to slam it back in its sheath at the first sign of the suicidal icon. Pulling it forth a few inches produced no effect so she drew it halfway out. Still they walked in darkness. Finally she drew the sword clear of its sheath.

The cavern they stood in was suddenly filled with light. Geno looked up instinctively and cursed when she saw the glowing icon above her. In that instant she noted that her red and blue bars only filled half of the space available, a bad sign. Turning around she saw the light of the icon reflected a dozen times over in reflective eyes, eyes that were approaching at a great rate of speed; another bad sign.

"What the hell is th...." was all that she managed before whatever was behind those eyes hit her, and all the lights went out.

* * * * * * * *

Geno realized that she was conscious and alive when she found that she could open her eyes and see dimly, and that doing so hurt her head. So far that was no different than any typical Sunday morning back home in the Shire, and from habit she tried to roll over and see who, or what, she might have picked up in the pub the night before to share her hole with. But Geno found that she could not move much; her wrists and ankles were bound with some sticky, stringy material, and more of the same anchored her to the ground.

Still, this was not a totally unfamiliar situation for the outgoing Furry. Some of the creatures she met in the laneway behind the pub were more ... dominant ... than others; preferring to take by force what she would have given freely, or for a nominal fee at least. Some were even so discourteous as to leave her bound in the alley after taking advantage of her hospitality. But what was this unusual substance she was restrained with? And where was the light coming from?

As her head cleared and her eyes focused Geno took in the broken stone work, skeletons, and ancient rusty armour that lay all about her. Suddenly she remembered the secret way under Cirith Ungol that Golem had led them to and the attack of the eyes. What had attacked them, and where was Marcel, the ring bearer, whose quest she had sworn to defend? Geno heard a squishy, squeaky noise from behind her and strained to look in that direction.

What she saw brought a cry to her lips. A giant spider, its bulbous green and red body pulsing at the apex of eight great hairy legs, was occupied with something not ten feet away. Light from the icon hovering above its head, and the one above hers, illuminated the cave. Threads of white spider silk trailed from its spinnerets, and she immediately realized what she was bound with. As she watched in horrid fascination, it folded its sac-like abdomen under itself and began to apply more of the sticky threads to something hanging from the ceiling.

The bundle that it was working on appeared to be a cocoon, or an egg sac, covered almost completely from end to end with snowy silk. There were things sticking out through the silk however, a dark muzzle near the top, a long pink protrusion halfway down. Something glinted as the light shifted - the ring! Marcel was trapped inside the cocoon!

The spider finished weaving and the bundle rotated lazily on the end of the silken rope. Besides his snout and penis, Marcel's butt was also exposed. Did giant spiders eat the same as the little orb weavers in her garden, she wondered? Did they allow the bodies of their prey to putrefy and suck the juices from them, or did they feed like the hairy wolf spiders it resembled; tearing the tender bits off and eating them whole? Geno also wondered if it would bind her now, or wait until after it had dined on Marcel.

The spider did something she did not expect; it reached around and stuck an appendage up the tailhole of her master. Doing so produced an immediate erection in the fox's member. Geno had seen this same reaction in the penises of Merry and Pippin, their former traveling companions and fellow Furries, during recreational sessions with the now-lost dildo. While she was pleased to see that Marcel was still alive inside his silken sheath, she was at a loss to understand why the spider wished to provoke such a response, until she saw what it did next. Folding its piercing fang inside its maw, the spider took her master's cock in its mouth and began to suck while it worked the fox's tail hole.

Uh-oh, she thought. She had heard stories of such spiders from Marcel's uncle when she was small. Bilbo would drink a few pints of butter beer and tell tales of his adventures to the fascinated little cheetah before suggesting a game of 'hide the trouser snake'. Amongst all the tales of stoned trolls, drunken elf orgies and rude dragons, the tale of the sucking spiders of Mirkwood had scared her the most.

Geno knew that he master was doomed, unless she could somehow distract the spider, but how? Then she remembered what Bilbo had said about them.

"Bisexual arachnids they are." He had declared with a burp. "They bind a male up and suck out his juices through multiple orgasms until there is nothing left of him but a dry husk." He then went into great detail of how the dwarves he was travelling with had suffered until he had scared the spiders away by poking them in the anus with his penis, grown prodigiously long and thick thanks to 'some cock ring' he had won in a dirty limerick contest. At that point he would inevitably try to demonstrate his technique on the young feline.

Bisexual! If she could somehow distract the spider, seduce it, and yiff it into a stupor she may yet save the day.

"Hey tall dark and, uh, leggy. Is that a pedipalp in your pants or are you just happy to see me?" She called in her most seductive voice.

The spider ignored her. Maybe it can't hear, she thought, not seeing anything on it that resembled ears. She tried to strike a seductive pose when the spider was turned toward her, but it was difficult to do while clad in rags and armour. What else could she try? The spiders in her garden were sensitive to movement on their webs. Maybe if she sent out good vibrations? But it was hard to radiate sexy when you had a splitting headache, were glued to an uncomfortable cavern floor watching your master getting sucked to death, and were wearing panties that were still damp and sticky from your morning paw-off.

Wait!_She thought. _That's it!

Struggling to stretch the web material, Geno rolled over as far as she could, spreading her legs in the process. They were bound at the ankles, but she found that she could flap her thighs back and forth, making the damp material rub against her sex. The friction heated the material, as well as her mound. Her sensitive nose soon caught the first whiff of the sweet, fishy odour of stale cheetah heat. She flailed harder, which not only served to send more scent forth, it also produced a fresh flow of juices inside her. The air around her was filling with that 'come hither' feline smell. She hoped that the currents in the cavern would carry it to the spider before Marcel was nothing but a husk.

Twisting her head around she blew in the spider's direction, hoping to speed the scent along. At first nothing happened, the spider simply continued to manipulate Marcel's prostate and suck down orgasm after orgasm while the trapped fox whined in painful ecstasy.

Just when she was about to collapse from the strain of holding the awkward position while flapping her thighs open and closed, she saw the hairs on one of the spiders legs ripple. The spider paused in its deadly felatio. Now the hairs on all four of the nearest legs were waving in the air as if they were searching for something. Did spiders' sense smell through their legs, she wondered? They must, she concluded, because the great beast had backed away from Marcel and all the hairs on all of its legs were pointing straight at her now. Behind it, Marcel's erection slowly slumped, the weight of the ring overcoming the lack of stimulation.

The spider moved toward her. The icon that hovered above its head was the same size as hers, but its red bar went all the way across, and the blue one nearly so. She had also noted that the spider was a level twenty enemy, while she was only a level seven. The only time she had seen such an uneven match was when the ring wraiths had attacked Marcel on Weathertop. He had barely escaped with his life thanks to the help of a Ranger, an Elf Lord, their fellow Furries and a passing Fairy Godmother. Geno sighed and turned back to face the far wall. What hope did she have of defeating such a powerful foe?

She could tell that the spider was close by the intensity of the light from its icon. The first thing she felt was the hot breath of the spider on the back of her head. The next thing was the tip of its piercing fang at the base of her neck. She steeled herself against the pain that would come when he plunged it in and injected her with his stupefying poison.

Instead of the prick she expected, she felt something pulling at her jerkin and heard a rippling noise. She soon realized that the spider was using its fang to slice her garments. Once her clothes were shredded, it used its forelegs to pull the pieces away, throwing them aside. She was left damp and naked, save for the shield attached to her arm and the greaves on her shins, in the chilly cavern air.

The odour from between her legs was stronger now, and it seemed to fascinate the spider. It rubbed the stiff sensitive hairs of its legs against the source of the smell, one after the other. Geno found the sensation to be not unpleasant, exotic really, and quite erotic. Her body responded by producing more fluid.

While any one of its legs was rubbing at her crotch, the spider would stand on four of the others and use the remaining three to examine his prey. It used the pads and claws at the end of each to poke, prod and pinch her. It tickled her back just above her tail. It rubbed the short fur of her belly. It took one of her nipples between its claws and squeezed. Its touch was surprisingly delicate, although she could feel its great strength being held in check. The rubbing and caressing made her body shudder and her nipples harden. Her breath was coming faster and she found that she was grinding her pelvis against the leg currently engaged down there.

He's better than half the Furries in the shire, she thought, and she would know. She wondered what came next.

A wet, slithery, sound, and a sharp cheese-like odour made her turn her head and her question was answered. She gasped at the sight of twenty inches of knobbly, pulsating penis protruding from the base of the creature's abdomen. It was green, like the spider, and covered with red knobs, like her dildo, but bigger, much bigger. Its moist surface gleamed in the light of their icons. It quivered eagerly in mid-air as the spider used its appendages to pull her legs apart and lift her tail out of the way. The arachnid drew back, aimed, and prepared to drive the massive missile home.

Geno closed her eyes. Please, not the tailhole, not the tailhole, she prayed silently as she waited for impact. She was relieved, but only for an instant, when she felt the lips of her cunt being forced open to allow the three-inch thick shaft to enter. But the pain only really started when it slammed against her cervix with all the force of five hundred pounds of spider behind it.

Her pelvis shifted as it entered, like birthing in reverse, and she thanked god that she was already wet and ready. Her pussy lips were sealed around the shaft and she could feel each knob as it popped into her. When it withdrew it felt like her insides were being turned out. The spider hardly paused at the top of his stroke before plunging back in even harder than before.

Geno gasped as she felt her cervix open, allowing the full length of its cock to penetrate her. It came to rest for an instant deep inside her womb, and then reversed. So tightly sealed on it was she that the pull on her diaphragm from the suction made it impossible to breathe.

The spider settled into a steady rhythm, grunting softly as it drilled her pussy like it was going for oil. Geno was struggling to breathe as the air being forced out of her with each thrust, and she could only suck in a tiny bit before her lungs were locked down. At the same time her body was responding to the stimulus of the massive penis. Buckets of lubricating love juice flowed around the shaft. Bolts of lightning shot through her whenever her clit rode over one of the big red knobs. Even the lining of her womb swelled to hug the tip of its ram while it could. She was close to coming, but close to going at the same time.

Spots appeared before her eyes. Her vision blurred and went dark around the edges. Geno shook her head and sucked in as much air as she could between thrusts. Her vision cleared and she could see again. She turned her head to glance at her icon and a new chill ran through her. Although her blue strength bar remained steady at the halfway mark, her red health bar had all but disappeared. When it did, she would be dead. The spider was still going strong with almost one-hundred percent of its health, but the pace of the yiffing was taking a toll on its strength. Unfortunately for Geno, her health would expire long before the spider dropped from exhaustion.

Why do we even have these stupid icons, she thought. They usually only appeared when Bilbo's magical sword was about and out of its sheath. Surely it was back in the tunnels where the spider had attacked them? Geno drew another quick breath, fought off an orgasm that could drain the last of her health, and looked around quickly.

There it was! The magic sword was on the ground right in front of her, half covered by her cloak. It must have become tangled in the tough elfin denim when the spider hit her. It probably knew nothing of swords and armour; otherwise it would not have left her shield on her back or the sword lying so close.

Geno stared at the sword. Its magic allowed it to slice through an enemy like a hot knife through butter. All that she had to do was get a firm grip on it and swing it at the spider's head. But how to get at it with her ankles bound and her paws tied behind her back?

Light glinted off the end of the polished brass hilt just as it had from the ring hanging from the end of Marcel's cock. The hilt was tubular, about eight inches long, and a little more than an inch thick. The cords that held the leather on its grip resembled veins. It had a large knob on the end. I can handle that, Geno thought to herself.

Craning her neck forward, Geno stretched her lips until she felt the knob of the hilt. Feeling around it to get a good seal, she sucked hard as the spider drew back, the pull on her diaphragm helping to draw the heavy sword closer as she swallowed the handle. It slid in like many similarly shaped objects that she had inserted there, and she settled it firmly in the back of her throat.

Many sessions in the lane behind the pub had given her the ability to hold her breath for minutes at a time. They had also strengthened her neck muscles to the point where she could battle a bouncing bull penis into sticky submission, and the sword was not about to come in her mouth. All that she had to do was twist her head as hard as she could, and pray that the spider did not duck. On the next thrust she clamped down hard on its cock when it was at its deepest. Startled, the spider froze for an instant. Just long enough for Geno, with her feline reflexes, to strike.

Whether it was about to come already or not, the shock of the sword slicing clean through its head caused it to orgasm like a fire hose. Geno would probably not have survived the additional pressure inside her as gallons of milky white spider sperm fought her guts for space, but she had wisely released her pelvic hold and the slippery cock blew out of her at the end of a jet stream of spooge. The sudden release and the natural tendency to retreat from pain drove the headless spider well clear of Geno in the seconds before it realized it was dead. The heavy body slumped to the ground giving off a horrible stench while fluids normally best kept inside spread on the cavern floor.

Spider guts, eyeball juice and bits of its brains dribbled down her forehead as steamy spooge trickled down her ass and leaked from her twat. Geno released the sword and shook her head to clear her eyes as she gulped for air. Clearing the gore did not help, the cave was growing dimmer as the spider's icon and hers faded away. She would have to finish rescuing her master in the dark, if she could manage to cut herself free of the restraining web without slashing her wrists in the process.

* * * * * * * *

It was several days, and several more close calls, before Geno and Marcel managed to escape the fortress of Cirith Ungol and continue their journey. Of the incident in the tunnel, Geno only said that they had been attacked by a giant spider, which she had killed. She did not want to trouble Marcel with the horrific details in his weakened state.

On the tenth morning since the attack she came back to their tiny cooking fire from behind the bush where she had just thrown up the lukewarm Orcmeal and trollhouse cookies that had been their breakfast. They had 'liberated' the awful fare from the kitchens of Cirith Ungol.

"That Orc food is not fit for decent folk." Marcel commented as she rinsed her mouth and spat. "That's the fifth morning in a row that you've vomited up breakfast, and your belly is protruding like some malnourished waif."

Geno squatted before her master and adjusted the bra that Queen Doll-lee had given her. It had grown uncomfortably tight in the last few days. Her breasts were getting more sensitive too.

"There's something I need to talk to you about, Master Marcel." She said in a serious voice.

"Please," the fox interrupted, "we've been through so much together and you have saved me too often to be calling me 'Master'. Just call me Marcel, and I'll call you Sam. I've always liked the name Sam. 'Sam Gamgee' has a ring to it, don'tcha think? Ha-ha! A 'ring', get it?" Marcel giggled happily.

He's getting more and more like that crazy lemur, Geno mused. Another sign that her master was losing his mind as they drew nearer to the cracks of Doom.

"Well ... Marcel ...," she indulged him, "you remember how you were always telling me back in the Shire to find a good mate, get married, settle down and have a bunch of babies for you to spoil?"

"Sure Ge- ... Sam. I remember.

Geno rubbed her bulging tummy.

"Did you mean, like, in that order?

* * * * * * * *

Geno © Coyotek

Joel the Lemur © Joel the Lemur

Marcel and Silver © Dikran_O

LOTR Characters and situations are © George Allen & Unwin (Publishers) Ltd, and are used here for the purpose of parody