Twister, twister!
Andrevs Drew Cainvs 4-9-11
"Twister, Twister. This is, indeed, the title."
The swamp was such a smelly place, thought the small anthrop. His name was Alden, an apprentice barista at the local coffee shop. And he never thought he'd find himself lost, out in this mud hole.
He leaned against tree, some of the roots uprooted at its base; its branches reminiscent of skeletal fingers. He was in a wide section of the swamp, a dark brown lake right before him. Behind him, ground more solid, beneath the twisting shelter of tree limbs. Alden wondered how he had found himself in such an isolated place.
Not to mention wet, he added. Alden would've been home, relaxing next to his little television box, drinking some warm coffee, had it not been the armada of storm clouds that had passed by. Now the flag markers were washed to who knows where.
Snap. Alden twitched, throwing a glance behind him. Nothing.
Great, just what he needed. Some hungry monster stalking him. Alden wished Jacob was here. The towering avian wouldn't let anything happen to him.
"Oh really?"
Alden yelped, tail ducking between his legs, below the colorful loincloth he bore. He hadn't said that, nor had he thought it.
"I'm not afraid of birds, furry thing." It was a low, hissing voice, not around him - in his head.
Alden sniffed - then clamped his jaws, his lunch rebelling. What was that smell? It was like a weak-old corpse bathed in urine. Alden doubled over, head resting on the mush soil. It had to go away, he was going to blow chunks soon.
Then he saw it. Alden's vision blurred, consciousness threatening to fail. The head was that of a skunkthrop's, albeit mutilated. He wouldn't have recognized it if it wasn't for the hind legs.
Except the body was stuffed in a small hole, the feet twisted about the head. He recognized the hippy anklets about the guy's mud-coated paws. Alden's arms gave way. Whoever had done this was a masochist.
Alden will to move. He willed, but couldn't. "Poor guy," he said, and reached for one of the anklets. "Think, he had a mate..."
"Oh, I enjoyed that one," the voice said. "He had a, girlfriend, he said. It was such a tease! I told him I squeezed her, until her breasts burst!"
Bastard, Alden thought. He clenched his fists, mud squashed in his paws, caking his pink pads. He wasn't going to suffer like this poor skunk did.
"But you will. You think you can hide? I can smell you. You're musk, my, stirs me in my deepest parts, little creature!"
Alden grimaced. He hadn't been able to soak in the tub at all today. He fondled his furry arms, reminded of how gross he felt.
Fear drove him away from the gruesome scene, moving with weary, and exhaustion. This swamp was terrible. Once he got home he was going to call him mom, get the hell out of this -
"Oh, no..." His voice faltered. He fought to keep his balance. He'd staggered into a mud pit. The soft ground gurgled; his feet sank into the amorphous earth. This was bad, it was up to his hocks; he had to keep still or he was screwed.
He spotted a sturdy branch above him. His heart pulsed with hope; if he acted now -
Alden thrust his arms up, stretching out. He grasped it.
A laughed railed through his mind, it was loud, and painful, and he wondered why the branch had moved all of a sudden. This branch is scaly, branches aren't scaly -
Alden's thoughts were jarred as the thing jerked him about. He was plunged face first into the mud. He screamed, hearing a loud and definite snap with the fierce twisting of his arm. He was pulled with such force that his feet plopped out of the mud.
His vision spun; he was rolled and contorted by the unknown assailant. In what felt like a second, he found himself stuck between a tight, twisting mass of wet muscle. Alden eyes faced the broken sky, wet with tears. Mud or clay caked his jaws and teeth, tasteless. The pungent smell of methane overwhelmed him. He tried to catch what breath he could, but his chest shivered with each gasp, it was out of control.
The triangular head of a snake crept into his static sight. Alden tried to look away from the twisted grin it gave him, but he couldn't move; his arms were glued across his back, nearly snapped by the snake's coils; his legs were secured straight up into the air, he could see them in his peripheral. His toes wiggled, caressed by something that felt like a meaty worm.
Alden screamed. Pain, like the climax of sex, flooded him. It was the pain of stretching one's muscles in exercise, multiplied tenfold. It had to stop, he wanted to die.
"You're in a bind, little creature," the voice said. "It hurts, I know. When I, twist - "
Alden's scream was crushed into a breathy rattle. He saw his feet being press to the sides of his head, his eyes widened. The muscles, his entire body strained. Coils slid around, folding his body into a V shape.
The voice continued. "Like this, their faces - yes, that's it! The look of suffering, that's what tickles me." The snake's head slithered over its coils, rested near the mutt's face. It was disgusting; Alden wanted it to go away. He tried to move - gods, all he could do was wiggle his neck a little.
Voice broken, Alden said, "I want...want, my, mommy."
"Mommy? Is, that like girlfriend?"
Alden's mind fluttered, and then he shut his eyes, and sobbed. Tears stained his cheeks. A bath would be so nice. He felt so dirty, he wanted to soak in some warm, warm water.
Something warm licked at his fuzzy eyelids. The snake was licking him. Alden forced his stomach to hold down its contents.
"This tastes nice," the voice said. "So, you wet yourself when I hurt you..." The pressure grew, Alden gasped as the coils shifted, tightened. His mud caked feet paws were squeezed against his face, the smell revolting to him. Laughter was all he heard as bones snapped and muscles strained. His pink tongue lolled out, draped over his unhinged muzzle.
The pair was sinking into the mud. The world was dark to Alden, and despite the pain, he was relieved he didn't have to stare at the cursed smile of the snake, or the toes splaying on his own broken feet, anymore.
Alden whined. His chest was burdened with pain, everywhere now. A tightness rippled around his heart, which soon became painfully constricted. His ribs strained against the brutal pressure.
"I want...mummy..." Alden's mixture of words and breath came in violent rasps.
Air, air. His toes curled, uncurled, sticky with clay. They scrunched and splayed with vigor. Air, he couldn't breathe any of it.
"Struggle," the voice said, it repeated with, tone soft. "Struggle."
Alden felt the chill mud claim his head. He wanted air, the smelly air, he just wanted to breathe. The mud began to spill into his mouth.
He then realized he wanted to piss, free his bladder. His hard member was mashed between his sopping sheath and the body of the snake, which was grinding his crotch. Alden gagged at the though - his eyes widened, his stomach forced his vomit up the hatch. He squirmed, the bile couldn't escape; the mud was sealing his throat like hulking bags of sand. And gods, the snake was grinding his crotch, Alden thought, patchwork words that were fading just as appeared.
He felt it, his packaged being flattened by the rough coils - he wanted to screamed, but the scream was subdued by the gunk clogging his throat. The pain was intense, his crotch felt warm and sticky with testicular fluids. He was so close to letting his bladder go.
"Struggle."
The mutt tried to speak, but he could only make guttural, primal sounds.
The coils over his bladder loosened, and he felt small relief as warm urine flowed free, soaking the insides of this thighs.
The dog snorted, nostrils irritated from the think mud that he had breathed in.
He squirmed. Fingers and toes twitched with panic, replacing what vigor the dog had left.
All smell was gone.
"Poor...creature...struggle...so alive!"
Sound faded, and soon the mutt thought no more. Above the mud hole, perched on a tree, a small bird watched as dirty toes gave their final twitches.