tagCelebritiesBaubo Ch. 02

Baubo Ch. 02

byCal Y. Pygia©

Note: Baubo is introduced in my series, "Buffy the Shemale Vampire Slayer." For those who may have missed this series (which is highly recommended), let me describe Baubo, for she is a most unusual individual. She consists of a pair of legs and a belly with a face. Her wide eyes are outlined in dark mascara, to make them stand out, and she has a pert nose above full, sensuous lips. The cleft in her chin is actually the opening to her vagina, since her chin is the same as her groin. Baubo has no arms, shoulders, neck, or head. Instead, her belly closes in a domed skull out of the scalp of which grows long, lush, curly tresses. According to Barbara G. Walker's fascinating book, The Woman's Dictionary of Symbols and Sacred Objects, Baubo was a clown who made the goddess Demeter laugh at her lewd jokes during Demeter's fertility rites. In "Buffy the Shemale Vampire Slayer," Baubo is Baphomet's former consort, whom he had deposed in favor of making Willow Rosenberg and Buffy Summers his new companions. Baubo is such an unusual and, to my mind, at least, sexy character that she deserves her own series of erotic adventures. I start hers by recounting her experience with Buffy the Shemale Vampire Slayer, whom Baphomet brought to his demon dimension after Buffy had been transformed into a hermaphrodite as a result of having been bitten by a Feral demon. Buffy was being fucked in the cunt and the ass by a demon with a double-pronged penis when Baubo joined them to suck the Slayer's cock. . . .

*

Another terrific jolt rattled Baubo. The cracks in the walls and ceiling of the great subterranean chamber in which she'd constructed her makeshift hovel from debris and stray materials she'd stolen from various locations throughout Baphomet's fortress-palace over the years that she'd been his consort widened and deepened. Stone shifted upon stone, and timbers creaked. Already, great blocks of granite had crashed upon the stone floor, and heavy beams of wood had splintered and fallen. It would not be long, Baubo predicted, before the entire citadel was a massive ruin. She wasn't sure what was happening, although she suspected that, whatever it was, it had something to do with the big-eyed blonde, Buffy, who had come to rescue her friend, Willow, the redheaded witch, but one thing that Baubo did know was that, if she remained inside this vast edifice, the crushed pulp of her remains might be forever buried in these cavernous depths. She'd soon be forgotten, if she were ever remembered by anyone at all, and it would be as if she'd never even existed. She had to get out, fast!

Baubo ran, following the corridor that led up through the depths below the fortress-castle, wanting only to get out of the crumbling palace before it collapsed upon her. The corridor was long, and many of the citadel's other inhabitants--Baphomet's slaves--filled the hallway, scrambling to get to the doorway that led to the grounds outside, where it would be safe--or, at least, safer. Like Baubo herself, many of her fellow fiends were naked. Baphomet, who also eschewed clothing, forbade most of his minions from donning garments of any kind. He enjoyed their nudity, for most of their bodies were mockeries of the human form, as was his own hermaphroditic physique. For example, a Terrak demon shuffled through the cavernous hallway as fast as he could, the huge tip of his elephant's trunk-like cock dragging the stone floor despite his having draped its length over his interlocked palms. A shell-backed demon with thick, clawed paws click-click-clicked its way forward, its rubbery-skinned, basketball-size balls bouncing beneath it with his every jarring step. There was no way that such a creature could retain even a semblance of dignity, Baubo thought, any more than she could hope to do as a half-woman whose face occupied her belly and whose cunt was in her chin. Another demon, with violet eyes and purple skin, hurried past Baubo, its three tiers of twin breasts bouncing upon its chest.

It was ever Baphomet's intent to deny his minions any sense of dignity, but, for once his purpose was denied, for the demons, although naked and displaying the horrors of their corrupt and misshapen forms, living travesties, caricatures, and parodies of the men and women they'd once been, a lifetime and a world away, were so terrified at the prospect of being entombed within the collapsing fortress that they thought not of their twisted bodies nor of the perverse desires that had expressed themselves in the multiplication, distortion, elimination, and transformation of their breasts, penises, testicles, buttocks, labia, vaginas, hands, feet, arms, legs, and faces--that is, none thought of these things except Baubo herself.

Even when she feared for her life, the she-demon could not entirely forget the perversion of womanhood she'd become in evolving this truncated parody of the feminine form, sloughing off her head, neck, shoulders, and arms as a snake sheds its skin. In Baphomet's demon dimension, fiends took on the twisted shapes that their perverse lives and actions, their twisted choices and lusts had spawned. Baphomet's metaphysical powers were immense, but it had been his minions, not he, who had willed themselves to adopt the hideous and absurd forms they wore as physical expressions of their spiritual essences. Having been the devil's consort, Baubo understood more than most that it had been she, not Baphomet, who had, in the final analysis, given her the present fleshly shape she wore. Like her fellow demons, Baubo was truly a self-made fiend. In her life as a woman, Baubo had been a slut. Promiscuous and licentious by choice, she'd lived with no thought but to suck and fuck as many men as she could, reducing herself to a mere walking, talking set of female genitals. It was no accident that she'd lost her head, neck, shoulders, and arms. She'd become outwardly what she'd long-since become inside--a parody and a caricature of the woman she'd once been--a personified cunt. As much as she detested the cruel, brutal devil who had been her infernal monarch, she could not blame Baphomet for what she'd become. Her own promiscuity had made her into this living parody of her former self.

A heavy tremor shook the stone floor, and the walls quaked. Dust poured from the cracked, buckling ceiling. Several of the fleeing demons screamed. A chunk of granite crashed to the floor. More demons shrieked.

The fleeing demons stopped, jumbling together in a wall of scales and horns and claws, and there were hisses and growls and snarls as fangs were bared. Strong arms shoved, curses sounded, and a demon slipped, fell, and was trampled under the feet and hooves of his fellow fiends. A demon jostled Baubo, and she tottered, nearly falling. She cried out, frightened, knowing that if she were knocked off her feet, as small as she was, she might be crushed to death underfoot.

As if in support of Baubo's thoughts, a thick, clawed foot stomped beside her. She looked up, into the wild, purple eyes of a red-faced Kekk demon. Oh, no! thought Baubo. Of all the demons in Baphomet's realm, she'd have to have run into a Kekk! Even among demons, such fiends were known--and feared--for their kinky sexual proclivities, and their pricks didn't just hump and pump; they acted in the manner of corkscrews, twisting round and round inside one's ass, cunt, or mouth. Although Baubo had had the great good fortune of having avoided these demons as sexual partners during her years here, others had confided to her that intercourse with a Kekk demon wasn't merely unpleasant, but painful and dangerous. Baubo had no desire to determine for herself what the corkscrew action of a thick, hard cock would do to her chin-pussy, her asshole, or her mouth and throat. She darted her eyes left and right, but all she could see, from the vantage point of her two-and-a-half-foot height, was a sea of legs, tails, hooves, bare feet, tentacles, paws, claws, talons, feathers, scales, fins, genitals, and buttocks. As she was seeking an avenue of escape through the larger demons who surrounded her, Baubo was bumped again. She staggered backward, tripping over a crustacean demon's armored shell, and fell hard on her fanny. A giant, furry satyr's hoof stamped the stone floor beside her as its owner, twisting, weaving, and bobbing, sought a means of progress through the crowded hallway that, for some reason, seemed to have become obstructed, halting the demon horde's headlong rush to escape the collapsing fortress in which they had been long imprisoned as Baphomet's courtiers.

Baubo scrambled away from the stamping, treading, stomping feet and hooves that surrounded her, trying to regain her feet. As small as she was, were she to be trodden underfoot by the stalled crowd, she could be badly injured and possibly killed.

Strong clawed fingers grasped Baubo by her legs, tightening firmly around her ankles, and she felt herself hoisted aloft. Fear lanced her heart, and she kicked, screamed, and wriggled fiercely, desperately trying to escape the clutches of the Kekk demon who had seized her. The bastard was strong, though, and little Baubo's resistance was pitifully ineffective. The Kekk demon merely tightened his grip upon her, holding fast to her as if she were nothing more than a thrashing fish. The fiend had rescued her from the threat of being stomped by the shifting crowd, but, in so doing, it was likely that he had only worsened Baubo's fate, because, she had no doubt, he'd extracted her from her predicament only so that he might rape her at his leisure--if they managed, after all, to get out of the crumbling palace before it collapsed entirely, burying them all beneath its massive debris.

"Hold still!" it demanded in the guttural tone characteristic of its kind. It was one of the curses in Baphomet's realm that all the demons, regardless of their language or dialect, were able to understand one another as if, despite the countless tongues in which they spoke, they communicated in a common language.

Baubo continued to struggle, kicking with her legs as she twisted and rolled her body, trying to break his grip.

"Cease," the Kekk demon commanded, "or I will dash your brains against the wall!"

Baubo, having no doubt that her captor would do exactly as he'd threatened, stopped struggling and let herself hang limp, head down, from the Kekk demon's clutching hand. She felt mortified, as she always did when her dignity was stripped from her in such a manner. Having no arms--or head or neck or shoulders--made her especially vulnerable to being seized and carried about by others, as if she were no more than a piece of property. To say that such treatment was dehumanizing was a vast understatement, for such treatment was abusive and humiliating in the extreme. "Put me down!" Baubo demanded.

"You're mine," her abductor responded.

"Never!"

Baubo felt herself hoisted higher, and the face in her belly halted before the Kekk demon's own repulsive countenance. For the first time in her life, Baubo saw the hideous countenance of the demon up close and way too personal. Beneath a jutting ledge of brow, he had wide purple eyes with red, elliptical pupils, shaped like those of a cat; a broad, squashed nose with wide, hairy nostrils; thick, rubbery lips; and a long, pointed chin bearing a crop of acne and open, running pustules, boils, and carbuncles. The demon opened its jaws, disclosing a forked tongue and three-inch-long fangs dripping with thick, mucus-like saliva. He brought Baubo closer to his gaping maw, and she smelled his fetid breath. What did this bastard have on its menu, shit? Baubo wondered. "I'd much rather fuck you," he warned, "but, if need be, I will eat you instead."

Baubo got the message. She stopped struggling, letting herself hang as so much dead weight in the Kekk demon's grip. Maybe having been caught up by the bastard was for the best, she consoled herself, for the time being, at least. It had saved her, quite possibly, from being trampled to death by the panicked demon horde. If the Kekk demon managed to escape with her in hand, she might yet escape at a later date, although she would certainly have to have sex with this vile monster before she bolted--a prospect that she found only slightly better than being trampled underfoot.

"That's better," her captor said, blasting Baubo with his putrid breath once more before it lowered his arm, letting his prisoner dangle beside the calf of his scaly leg. In her descent, quick as it was, Baubo had glimpsed the demon's penis. Apparently excited at the prospect of ravishing his captive, the Kekk demon had developed an erection. The wild tales that Baubo had heard concerning the creature's cock were true--the damned thing was spiraled, like a corkscrew. The ugly, mottled flesh that covered the grotesque penis shone with the pus that flowed from the abscesses that covered the winding organ. Baubo closed her wide, mascara-framed eyes in dread, vowing that she would die before she'd suck such a vile member or allow it to penetrate her cunt or ass.

The bunched-up crowd surged forward. Whatever obstacle had stalled their progress had apparently been breached or cast aside. Curses fouled the air as the struggling horde elbowed and shoved and struck its members, each of the demons vying for its own survival, regardless of the fate of its fellows. In all probability, if she hadn't been snatched up by the Kekk demon and carried aloft like a bag of flour, Baubo would have been trampled to death by the panicked crowd. As it was, should she survive, she would be killed anyway, soon enough, when she refused her captor's lewd advances, for, although he might force himself upon her, she was quite certain that, should she bite his cock during his attempt to make her suck his prick, as savagely and tenaciously as she could, the bastard's response would be to dash her brains against the wall or crush her in its hands as if she were no more than an oversize egg.

Tucking Baubo under its arm, as if she were a inanimate bundle instead of an intelligent being worthy of being treated with dignity and respect, the Kekk demon hastened after the rushing ranks of the demons before him, inspired, as they apparently were, by the sight of light shining into the rising corridor from the world outside this infernal fortress. Daylight meant that, ahead, lay a means of egress from this prison-palace, a means of escape, a way to freedom.

Underfoot, the fortress pitched and bucked, the walls shifting and grinding. The fine dust of crumbled granite sifted from the cracking ceiling. Although the terrified demons had no idea as to what was causing the destruction of the fortress, the reason was that another of Baphomet's captives, Buffy the Shemale Vampire Slayer, as she'd come to think of herself after she'd grown male genitals as a side-effect of having been bitten by a Feral demon, was defying her captor; as a consequence, the palace of the damned that he'd created out of his own twisted thoughts, perverted will, corrupted desires, and evil mind-set was crumbling:

Buffy's friend, Xander Harris, had jilted the vengeance demon Anya at the altar. Devastated by his public rejection of her, Anya had sought to repay him by casting a spell that whisked Willow Rosenberg, his best friend since their kindergarten days, to the demon dimension over which Baphomet ruled--or so Buffy had believed. Now, as she fought Baphomet, the devil told her the truth: "It was I, not the vengeance demon, who transported the witch to my domain. I secured Anya's pretense as the one who had arranged the witch's capture in order to snare you, knowing that you are her best friend and would risk your life to save her--not that you have the slightest chance, of course, of doing so."

Buffy was shocked. "Anya didn't send Willow here?"

"She was nothing more than you--my victim. I made her tell you all the things she told you, on pain of being vivisected--dissected alive--should she refuse. I am the true adversary, not her. When you arrived, I sent my minions to test you. The meadowlands demon, the cavern-cunt, and the phallic plants are all my spawn, as are the demons who dwell here, in my palace, with me. You resisted them all--at first--but, finally, you embraced them, in your heart and your soul, if not openly, and you began to doubt; you began to waver. You began to enjoy being both the predator and the prey, seeking both death and power in the act of sex which was, of course, always suitably perverted. Now, you know the truth: sex, like life itself, is about power, not love."

Willow sat up, looking across the stone floor at the Slayer. "Don't listen to him, Buffy. You're not a slut. You're not a whore. You're the Slayer."

A quake shook the palace. The throne jiggled atop the skulls that served as its legs. A crack opened in one of the walls.

"Silence, bitch!" Baphomet screamed.

"You're good, and you're kind. You're compassionate and loving and caring. You're strong and protective and courageous," Willow told the Slayer.

The crack in the wall deepened and lengthened. Another appeared, and another. There was a loud crumbling sound.

"Shut your cock hole, witch!" Baphomet thundered.

Part of the throne room's ceiling caved in. The frigid air of the arctic mountains rushed into the chamber. Another quake jolted the building.

Willow stared at the devil. "I don't do cocks," she said. She looked again at Buffy, into her eyes. "You're also beautiful and sexy as hell--and good in bed--very good!"

"Don't listen to her!" Baphomet shouted at Buffy. "You are a whore, a slut, a bitch, without modesty or morals--"

The left wall crumbled, falling, and a deep fissure appeared in the floor. Stones loosened, falling into the black abyss below the palace.

Buffy winked at Willow. "No," she told the devil, "I'm Buffy the vampire slayer--or, in your case, since you're a freaky hermaphroditic freak, a shemale vampire slayer."

Before he could react, Buffy shoved herself off his lap, jerking away from the huge cock that had impaled her buttocks. His semen trailed between her anus and the tip of his sperm-smeared cock.

One of the skulls holding up the throne collapsed into dust, and the great chair toppled. Another crack opened in the ceiling, and more stones rained down from above. Baphomet, seated in a pool of spilled semen, paled.

"This place--it's all a lie," Buffy declared.

"It's something he created," Willow said. "It's foundation is doubt and fear, and its stones and timbers are guilt, shame, humiliation, and despair."

"Like the statues in the alcoves in the portico, the ones showing couples--uh--coupling--the ones he called Initiation, Humiliation, and Travesty."

"What about them?" Willow asked.

A deep rumbling sounded, coming, it seemed, from below the palace. It grew louder and louder. The throne room, like the palace itself, shuddered. The whole edifice seemed about to collapse, Buffy thought. They had to get out of here fast.

"They were clues, but I didn't know it at the time I saw them. He built this place--imagined it into existence, I guess we could say--based on the destructive emotions people have as a result of confusing, first-time, same-sex experiences and the humiliation, hopelessness, and despair that gays, lesbians, bisexual, and transgendered people sometimes experience in a world that derides, insults, abuses, and even kills them just because they're different."

Buffy thought of Xander and his fear of having his bisexuality discovered by those whom he loved. (She had accidentally walked in on him while he was butt-fucking Chester, a guy who worked for him on Xander's construction crew.) Xander had feared that Giles and even Willow, whom he'd known since kindergarten and who was gay herself, might no longer care for him if he came out of the closet. He'd looked sick after Buffy had learned the truth about his sexual identity, and he'd begged her not to tell anyone else. Buffy had tried to console him, offering him what she had, a few minutes ago, in the throes of one of Baphomet's spells, it seemed, regarded as mere platitudes and clichés but now recognized as truths. She'd told him that his being bisexual didn't matter, that it changed nothing between them, and that there was no shame or need for shame in being who one was. She'd reminded him that everyone, including Xander himself, had continued to love Willow after she'd come out as a lesbian. It would be no different for him, but she'd honor his request and not divulge his secret to anyone else if that was what he wanted.

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byCal Y. Pygia© 0 comments/ 14016 views/ 0 favorites

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