A Bunch of Hook/Pan Oneshots

Written 5/1/04

Ok. Butterballs issued a challenge a while ago for a fic on CASTRATION. Although I vowed I could never write something about it (it being a rather strong pet squick), of course I was obviously just repressed and came up with several ideas. I couldn't decide which of them to pursue, so decided to purge several away. Here are two of 'em. Call it, variations on a theme.
Note: Written in haste, under duress of actual RL work, and also I couldn't bear to dwell on them too much to polish off, hehe. Whatever. Here they are. Both probably rated R. And... uh... squicky. Blood mentioned.


Dentata

I stand surveying the lagoon for them. They come up from the depths when they sense someone is about, so I dip my hand and perturb the surface. Sure enough one slithers up to the surface silently, emerging not far from the stones my feet are planted on. I step closer, obscuring the metal of the arm. No need for premature alarm. She approaches, her webbed hand brushing over the tip of my boot. She thinks herself clever and insinuates her arm around one ankle, hoping to deprive me of my balance before dragging me under into her lair-- a bloated, glassy-eyed prize to exhibit to her sisters, no doubt. I’ve seen it before, and quickly wrench her out of the water by her slender arm. I drag her out across the beach, her body thrashing, as gravel tears into the delicate scales of her tail. She claws at the assaulting arm madly until I bring the cold point of my hook to press into her neck, her clammy skin yielding.

I bring her down, the metal almost embedded in her. I had seen to everything, and have no need to unbutton my breeches. I stuff myself into her mouth, and she hisses in resentment but begins to suck. These fused girls always know what to do, and despite all their protests, I suspect they enjoy it, having no recourse to true pleasure. Waves of that same pleasure threaten to overtake me, but I must keep my wits about me, and the point in her neck. Those teeth can crack mussel shells open, and I have no desire to experiment in consensual sex with these creatures who don’t even speak like human beings. I come into her mouth, thrusting deep into her throat inconsiderately before pulling out. I nick her skin lightly, and let the hook come away, watching her hiss and groan out of the corner of my eye as I button my breeches. She begins dragging her body back slowly toward the water’s edge, sleek in the lagoon, but unwieldy on dry land. I head towards the boat, having been most deliciously satisfied on this excursion.

I am within sight of my crewmembers when I hear a wretched scream wrack the jungle. I rush back, almost sure of the voice’s identity. The boy is standing at the water’s edge, eyes bugging out almost as wide as his open mouth, blood spurting in bursts from his crotch. The tail of the mermaid disappears under the surface with unintentional flourish, and the boy falls to his knees clutching frantically for his missing parts. Approach makes the man, I snort to myself, and turn on my heels to leave.