TITLE    : Baubo Ch. 11
STORYID  : baubo-ch-11
SUMMARY  : Baubo finds a sex partner--on a deserted island!
AUTHOR   : Cal Y. Pygia@lit
DATE     : 2006-01-02
CATEGORY : celebrity-stories
FLAGS    : 
TAGS     : |baubo|buffy|willow|xander|ass|cunt|prick|pussy|monster|goddess|


"Willow! What's up?"



Xander had spied his best friend as he hastened past the darkened yards along the Sunnydale street that led toward his house--or, more specifically, toward the basement apartment that he rented from his parents.



The redheaded witch was following a sphere of glowing light. "I'm hunting."



Xander fell in step with her, matching her stride for stride. "Hunting what?"



"Just hunting." Willow knew better than to be honest with Xander. She'd foresworn vengeance against Andrew for his role in her girlfriend's death. After Willow had skinned Warren alive, Buffy, Xander, and her other friends had convinced Willow that taking the law into her own hands was wrong, regardless of how emotionally satisfying it might be to kill the bastards who'd killed Tara. Before Willow had killed Warren, he and Andrew had slain Jonathan, so only Andrew remained of the murderous trio. If Andrew were to die--or meet a fate worse than death--Willow's revenge against Tara's killers would be complete. Although she agreed, philosophically, that vigilantism was wrong, the satisfaction she'd gain emotionally from avenging Tara's death by settling the score with Andrew was too great an opportunity to miss. Besides, she'd agreed only not to kill Andrew. The fate she had in mind for the little creep was far worse than taking his worthless life.



"Mind if I tag along?"



"Yes."



"Mind if I tag along, anyway?"



Willow stopped. The ball of light hovered in the night sky.



"I don't want company," she said.



"That's when you usually need company the most." Xander observed.



"Xander, I don't have time for--"



"Guess what I saw."



"Xander, don't make me--"



"A little bitty naked lady," he began.



"You're pushing your luck," Willow warned.



"With no head, no arms, and no hands," Xander finished quickly.



Willow frowned. Raising her hand, she levitated her friend into the sky, depositing him on a branch, close to the trunk of a tree. "Don't say I didn't warn you."



"I thought maybe she was the one you're hunting," Xander called down from his perch above the street.



"You thought wrong," the witch explained. "That's why you're up a tree."



"Without a paddle. Let me down."



"Only if you promise to be a good boy and go home."



Xander weighed his options. It took only a second. "Okay."



"If you don't, you'll go right back up," Willow warned.



"I will," Xander promised.



Willow gestured, and Xander found his feet planted firmly upon terra firma--or, more specifically, the sidewalk--once again. "Thanks."



"Now, go home."



"You should go home, too," he ventured as he started in the direction of his parents' house.



She would, Willow thought, after she'd settled her score with Andrew. She nodded at the glowing sphere, and it floated again through the darkness. Willow followed.



Baubo, the headless, armless, handless, naked sex goddess to whom Xander had referred, continued to wander the alleyways and byways of Sunnydale, avoiding the dogs, the passersby, and the strangely clad men and women in the horseless chariots with the glowing eyes. The Kekk demon who'd abducted her before teleporting from Baphomet's demon dimension into this strange world had brought her to a forbidding and hostile place filled, it seemed, with humans who were as powerful as the gods and goddesses over whom Zeus reigned. The big-eyed blonde named Buffy, for example, although slight of stature, had not only single-handedly killed Baphomet but had also brought down his mountaintop fortress. Baubo would have considered such a feat impossible for anyone other than Zeus himself--or perhaps Hercules--but the petite vampire slayer had accomplished it. The denizens of this world were dangerous. Extreme caution was necessary at every moment. Baubo was determined to remain vigilant.



Nevertheless, within a quarter of an hour, she was again lost in reverie, remembering her bygone days in what, today, was considered ancient Greece.



As a perhaps-unlikely sex goddess, Baubo had had many lovers, male, female, and otherwise, including Aegina the Amazon, a lamia, a hydra, and even the sea god, Poseidon himself. In fact, it was after Zeus' brother had finished ravaging her as she bathed in the sea, washing away the foul semen of the many-pricked hydra, that the sea god had dispatched her to the island to which her reverie had now returned her.



Unlike humans' memories, those of the deities were as vivid, as detailed, and as complete as the experiences themselves of which the memories were cognitive copies, so that, merely by recalling past events, the gods and goddesses, Baubo included, as good as relived them. Many a time, when she'd been alone at night, as she was tonight, Baubo had comforted herself by losing herself in memories of her past sexual trysts. Perhaps this was why, despite her cautions to herself, only moments ago, concerning the need to remain vigilant, she had yet again slipped into the past. Reliving her past sexual encounters was comforting; it had become a habit, and habits sometimes resisted even the most conscious and determined efforts not to act upon them.



The island's terrain was hilly and mountainous, the only flat land being occasional stretches of beach. It was also thick with forests of pine, olives, sycamores, oaks, birches, and plane trees. There were also various fruit and nut trees, and many wildflowers--gentians, tulips, fritillaries, lilies, orchids, pansies, saxifrages, columbines, and bellflowers. The island was fairly isolated, being situated at the southernmost tip of one of the Aegean's many archipelagos. In its own way, the island was beautiful, as was the three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the sea that surrounded it. Fortunately, the island's trees and shrubs provided plenty of nourishment, for Baubo was stranded upon the small oasis of land in the midst of the sea and there was no telling when, if ever, she might be rescued.



She'd been tempted to wonder why Poseidon had cast her onto the island after they'd made love in the sea. Had she displeased him in some way? She shrugged. It was no use trying to fathom the mind of the sea god anymore than it was to attempt to discern what made Zeus or any of the other deities, herself included, do what they did. The behavior of the gods was seldom rational. Most often, they did or did not act on the basis of mere emotion, whim, or caprice.



With nothing else to do, Baubo spent her days exploring the island. Much of the coastline faced sheer cliffs, with only brief, intermittent stretches of level beach, so she decided to trek into the island's densely forested interior.



The diminutive deity was in good condition, and the sharply rising terrain challenged but did not discourage her. She enjoyed hiking and did so on a regular basis. It was a result, in large part, of her fondness for hiking that she'd encountered many of the strange and wonderful entities with whom she'd had sex. Although she appeared to be alone on this island, one never knew for certain. She might encounter some horny monster, god or goddess, or other extraordinary creature. If so, that would be all right with her. Baubo was always ready to have sex of any kind with anyone or, for that matter, with anything.



She was just cresting a steep slope when an odd creature sprang at her.



Its appearance had been so sudden and unexpected and its attack so quick that Baubo had had no time to react, other than to gasp and stumble backward a step or two. Fortunately, the creature did not mean to kill her; if it had intended to slay her, Baubo knew, she would have been killed. Instead, the creature, which was shaped like an oval with only a few inches' thickness, had flung itself between Baubo's legs, folding itself between her thighs, with half its body against over the lower halves of her buttocks and the other half over the cunt inside her chin. Having leaped onto Baubo, the bizarre creature inserted two phallic appendages into the tiny goddess--one into her chin-cunt, the other into her rectum.



Aghast, Baubo immediately sat upon the ground. Although she had neither arms nor hands, the goddess was not as helpless as her lack of upper limbs might indicate. She was exceedingly adept at using her legs and feet, so much so that she was able to do almost everything that anyone with arms and hands could do, including grasp and pull at something such as this monstrous creature that had attached itself between her thighs and impaled her cunt and ass with its penis-like appendages.



Angling her thighs away from her groin and sharply bending her knees so that her calves pointed toward her cunt, Baubo was able to masturbate herself by rubbing her clitoris with her big toe or inserting her toes into her pussy and foot-fucking herself. Now, however, she used her toes as fingers, curling them around the flesh of the thing between her legs and pulling. The creature's skin stretched within her grip, looking rather like the dough of a small pizza. However, the monster remained where it was, between Baubo's legs, its phallic members in place within her nether orifices.



Grunting, the sex goddess redoubled her efforts, tightening her toes and exerting all her strength in a determined effort to wrench the creature from between her thighs. Again, her effort failed. The entity remained where it was, pressed as firmly against her lower buttocks, her perineum, and her chin-cunt as if it were another layer of skin, its cock-like organs impaling her front and rear.



The creature did not hurt her. It did not sting, nor did it bite. However, its mere presence was disturbing. It was frightening to have a living creature nesting against one's crotch and ass. Who knew what it had inserted inside her vagina and rectum? Just because the tentacle-like things were like cocks did not mean that they were cocks. They could be anything.



Baubo redoubled her efforts to pull the beast from its nesting spot, but without success. Again and again, she repeated her efforts, growing more frantic each time she failed. Finally, she surrendered, accepting the presence of the detestable creature. It did not seem bent upon harming her. It had not injured her or otherwise hurt her. It seemed content merely to gave taken up residence, as it were, between her legs.



Baubo stood. Looking down, she could see the flap of skin that the creature had folded over her chin-cunt, and she could feel the rest of its folded body lying against both her perineum and her lower buttocks. She could also feel its penis-things inside her vagina and rectum. Fervently, Baubo hoped that the bastard didn't intend to breed with her!



An even worse thought occurred to her. What if the damned thing were a female instead of a male? What if its apparent penises were really egg-delivery tubes and it meant to inject its ova into her cunt and ass to incubate, hatch, and, possibly, devour her from within?



This possibility drained Baubo of all color, and, ashen, she trembled as she made her way to a stream that she'd seen from a nearby hilltop during her trek through the island's highlands. Perhaps, by wading into the stream, she could drown the bastard between her legs!



As Baubo strode toward the island stream, Willow continued to follow the glowing sphere through the dark streets of Sunnydale, California. Abruptly, as it approached the silhouette of a young man who stood in the shadow of a tree, the sphere vanished, and Willow knew she'd found her man--one of the three nerdy punks who'd killed the love of her life. On the rampage that had followed their murder of Tara, Willow had skinned Warren alive. He and Andrew had killed Jonathan as a sacrifice in one of their blood rituals. Of the trio of murderers, only Andrew remained. He'd been under the protection of Buffy and Willow's other friends, for whose sakes she'd agreed not to kill the bastard.



However, Willow had had no intention of keeping her word to Buffy, Xander, Giles, Anya, and Dawn. All along, she'd been waiting only for the chance to slay Andrew, to make him pay for what he'd done to Tara. Over time, Buffy and the others had let down their guard, and even Andrew, the pussy, had become convinced that Willow no longer intended to harm him. Perhaps, he'd even come to hope that the witch, seeing his willingness to repent of his foul deeds, had forgiven him.



As Willow stepped into the meager light of a nearby streetlamp, she smiled. "Hello, Warren."



Andrew's eyes widened, and he stepped away from the witch. He swallowed. "Willow!"



His obvious fear--his terror--at the sight of her was pleasing. Willow's smile stretched into a grin. "Glad to see me, Andrew?"



"Uh, yeah," he lied. "Uh, sure. Willow. How have you, uh, been?"



The witch's eyes narrowed, and her smile disappeared. Suddenly, the night seemed much colder, and the darkness appeared to have deepened.



"You killed Tara, you bastard!" Willow charged. "How do you think I feel? I feel like hell!"



As she said the word "hell," the whites of her eyes went dark, and her irises turned scarlet. Veins stood out beneath the smooth, alabaster skin of her face, and her red hair turned black.



Andrew screamed. Spinning away from the witch, he ran. Behind him, he could hear Willow laughing.



She didn't sound merry. The laughter was hoarse and grating.



It sounded like hell.



<i>. . . to be continued. . . .</i> 

