Sisters of Sodom

"I will handle it," the dark woman in white concluded, waving the girl away. "Bring me my M24."

"Y-yes, goddess Makeda."

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A CALL TO ARMS

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"Nuh uh! No touching, you silly sausage!" Hailey said, batting the middle-aged man's hand away from her. Who knows if he even spoke English? It didn't matter; although he seemed flustered by her rejection, they both knew the rules had been laid out in advance, and she had the muscle of the soapland security behind her if anyone got too unreasonable.

That, and her own powers. Not that she'd use them here unless completely necessary. She enjoyed being seen as just an ordinary girl, and of blending in, even in a foreign country such as this. She'd even dressed for the occasion, her current getup a mockery of the Japanese schoolgirl look, with a navy blue miniskirt, white blouse, knee-high black socks, a red ribbon, and pigtails. Although she couldn't exactly pass for the real thing, that was part of the point. Her "difference" was part of her selling point.

As the techno music thumped from the small stereo behind her, she shimmied a little bit, turning to flip her skirt up and expose the curve of her perfect bubble butt. Her white cotton undies had formed a bit of a wedgie between her cheeks, intentionally of course. She grinned when she saw the man's arousal return.

"Baita..." the man mumbled. "Oshiri...kashite..."

"Now yer talkin'!" Hailey giggled, pulling up her underwear so that they nestled deeply between her cheeks. She swiped the crumpled mass up and down her ass crack, making sure to get the natural stink of her asshole all over it, and then she turned to him. "70,000 yen. Hai?"

The man paused, his beady little eyes widening behind his thick glasses. He wiped his brow with his tie and took another sip of sake, then nodded at her exasperatedly.

"60,000," he bargained.

"No no, big boy! 70,000," Hailey insisted. "Pleeease?" she gave a cute puppy-dog expression and wiggled her little butt tantalizingly. The man's eyes grew wider, and finally he caved, nodding yes.

"Good boy!" Hailey said, yanking her skid-marked white undies down and kicking them towards the man, who immediately dropped to his knees to pick it up and sniff it. His nose flew to that faint brown spot right at interior of Hailey's undies, sniffing her anal musk. The bulge under his pants growing with each second.

"Wow, you really like the smell of my butthole don't you? You men are all the same..." Hailey teased, but the man could neither make sense of her words nor cared to. He pulled his sweaty penis out and began tugging at it wildly as he inhaled more and more of the American hipster girl's anal stink from the underwear. This is almost too easy, Hailey thought to herself. In less than two hours, she'd already made enough money to live almost anywhere in the world comfortably for a very long time.

With her underwear gone, she figured she'd try to coax more money out of this salaryman who clearly had deep pockets. "Hey. Big boy. Not to interrupt you or anything, but y'know you can smell the source...for a price."

She bent over, parting her legs so that her little black shoes were parallel to her shoulders, and then she spread her butt cheeks open. The man paused and looked up, then gasped. The sight of the young American girl's airtight anus drove him made. She flexed her tiny sphincter enticingly, then gestured,"

"Sniff sniff. 80,000 yen?"

The man shook his head, clearly uncomfortable with the price.

"Please? Onegai?" she whined, waving her perfect ass back and forth. She sniffed the air again a few times, loudly, to illustrate what she'd allow him to do. "My tight lil' American butthole really likes to be sniffed, it's so stinky...you'll love it..."

The man only could read the intonation of her voice, and it captured his imagination yet again. While his hand still pumped his meaty shaft, his senses became more scrambled. He finally nodded yes to the offer.

"Oh, domo arigatou!" Hailey squeaked, pulling her cheeks apart wider. The man set the underwear aside in his briefcase and then crawled on hands and knees over to her. She looked back at him. With his droopy chin and comb-over, was was not particularly handsome, but she was gleefully detached from it all.

"Now be a good boy and give my pooper a real good sniff. Farts are free, hehe."

The man pressed his nose between her cheeks aggressively. "Whoa there, big boy...remember, no touching okay? My lil' butthole is just so sensitive, that's all!" Hailey said, pushing the man's head back a little.

With a grunt, the man complied, then inhaled the scent wafting from between her cheeks. Up close, the odor was distinctively shitty, but sweet as well, and he began to masturbate faster. With a little push, a fart squeaked out of her tight hole, filling the man's nostrils with her anal gas.

Right as he was about to orgasm, there was a knock at the door. Hailey's posture straightened. It was very rare that anyone interrupted a session in this place, that is, unless it was a police raid. She felt a small spike of fear at the possibility, and pulled away from the man, turning around.

To her surprise, it was not a policeman, but rather her boss.

"M-miss Ayaka! Is everything okay?" Hailey said in confusion.

"No," Ayaka said sternly. "Get your things. We must leave for Ethiopia immediately."

"Ethiopia?!"

"Don't question me. I will explain to you later. Get your things and let's go. Now."

"Darn it..." Hailey mumbled, turning to the confused man on the carpet. "Sorry, big boy! I'll give ya a discount next time, okay?" she said.

"Gomen nasai, Nakagawa-san," she said to him in a bloodless monotone. The man continued to masturbate, intent on finishing, and he ended up shooting a large spurt of cum all over Hailey's smooth legs. "Bad boy! I said no touching!" she yelled, suddenly furious at the transgression.

Feeling his warm cum drip down her leg and under her cotton sock, she impulsively smacked the man across the face, though this only seemed to increase his arousal.

She had the impulse to cast a deadly spell on him, but the urgency in Ayaka's voice, convinced her that it would be unwise to use up any of her powers unnecessarily. Walking past the still-orgasming man, she snatched up more money from his suitcase than he even owed, and then followed Ayaka quickly out the door.

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GROWING CONCERN

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South to the high bluff's needlepoint peak, then that telltale chill hit his wings. It was that same harsh arctic gust forever reminding him of the island's invisible bounds. Vast and dense as it seemed on foot, it really only took Lysvinge two hours to fly from end to end, sometimes less if the weather cooperated.

But there was always that hard limit surrounding Signekjerringøyathe. It was a pitch-white gown of frost that whirled ever-present along the borders, forbidding the viking girl's old companion from ever leaving. With Sølvi gone, the island's will clung ever more greedily to its remaining inhabitants, those beasts such as himself which silently maintained its spiritual stasis.

He did wish to leave this place, dearly. Not out of boredom, but rather because he sensed great danger in store for Sølvi. Dreadful stuff, though of what sort he could not tell. He had watched over the wild forest girl for so many years, but now where had she gone? 98 moons ago, she'd vanished along with the one named "Pretty Heks."

He thought of that strange pythoness who spirited his Sølvi away. That girl with hair like a foreboding thunderhead and flesh the shade of sapwood, whose aura felt so unlike the Viking witch of his loyalties. The longer Eudora's memory sat in his mind, the more rue filled his yellow eyes.

He did not understand the moniker Sølvi had given the woman, either. Granted, the rules of human beauty largely eluded him, but the pythoness in question did not strike him as "pretty." It was not her physical appearance that he judged, bur rather her essence. It felt impenetrably fickle, selfish, ugly.

Had his young mistress merely muttered the command, Lysvinge would have gladly assaulted this "Pretty Heks" without mercy. But alas, the viking girl instead had welcomed her—foolishly, Lysvinge now strongly believed, but this was her nature.

Repelled north by the gale, he looped around the impenetrable fringes of the island and back towards the fortress glimmering in the pale distance. Normally, he would stop along the winding creek trail to retrieve dinner for Sølvi; the usual grub worms, shellfish, perhaps a furry critter or two if his wings would manage it. But he had no need for the task now; his belly was already full, and there was nobody else left to feed.

He dipped low beneath a strong flurry of ice crystals and then relaxed his large feathered body, gliding towards his destination with morose acceptance. Dreadful stuff, such dreadful stuff was afoot. But for now, there was nothing he could do but wait for his girl to return. Perhaps the gods had greater plans for her, he hoped.

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DANAKIL

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"Oh, I miss him so!" Sølvi said, wiping the sweat from her brow. Under the oppressive desert sun, her ordinarily snowflake-pale skin has been singed a bright reddish hue, like the flesh of a haddock.

"Jeez, will you get over it? It was just a stupid bird," Eudora grunted back as she sank her shovel into the sand dune in front of her for leverage. Though her complexion fared better against the lash of the sun, its heat still filled the vaults beneath her dark clothing.

Like the discharge of an oven, it billowed up from her sacred breastplate as she moved, distracting her. Soon she couldn't take it any more. "Screw it," she spat, grabbing the sweaty black robe clinging to her body and tearing it off. Only her breastplate and a pair of stretchy silver boyshorts lay underneath.

The rest of her body was now visible, though it was a far cry from what it once was. It was pear-shaped and rippled with folds of deflated flesh. Although she was no longer morbidly obese, Sølvi's healing magic could only do so much for her, especially as time was of the essence. What remained was a droopy tanned husk, dripping with perspiration under the blazing star.

The humiliation of having to forge on in this state was not lost on the punk pythoness. Of course, any other witch she encountered would undoubtedly laugh at her new appearance. In her mind, she could find no reason for them not to.

The one thing that kept her going was the thought of the final artifact. With it, she would not only regain her perfect looks, but virtually every other desire of hers would be within reach. Any lesser victory would be pyrrhic.

She would no longer need men like Gary to fund her elaborate treasure hunts. She would no longer need to fear the competitions of other bloodthirsty witches, or babysit strange viking girls, or trek through rugged terrains such as this. She would sit high on a throne of unrivaled power, her every whim a mere gesture away.

"But, Pretty Heks..." Sølvi pressed, "Lysvinge is more than just a bird! He was my only friend on that lonely island, a loyal friend, and he has helped me so. Those ingredients that I used to rid your body of the worms? They were foraged by him...well, all but one ingredient as you know," Sølvi said, pausing as if concerned that she'd anger Eudora further.

"That stupid 'ingredient' is the whole reason I look like a fucking piece of melting cheddar," Eudora snapped. "I don't want to ever hear about it again. Keep your stupid oversized lady-cock to yourself from now on, okay?"

Sølvi frowned, and looked away in embarrassment. "I am sorry, pretty heks..."

"Whatever. I guess I get it—you have your loyal pet, I have mine. I guess Gary is my 'Lysvinge,' huh?" Eudora said, not quite making eye contact with her partner.

"Oh, I...suppose?" Sølvi said, a bit puzzled. "The edicts of my ancestral line forbid the keeping of men, so I am not familiar with this arrangement. Are you saying Gary is your... thrall?" she asked, searching for some kind of way to understand Eudora's odd relationship with this man.

"My wha?" Eudora snapped annoyedly.

"Your thrall..."

"What the fuck is a thrall?"

"Oh, I am sorry. I mean, how do you say it...like a slave?"

"Uh yeah, kinda like that," Eudora concluded, liking the sound of that just fine. Besides, it didn't matter what words she used in the end. Because the truth of the matter was that Gary was already out of the picture, quite permanently.

"Oh, how strange. Yet Gary seems so happy for a slave, yes? Perhaps this is proof of his love for you!" Sølvi couldn't help but imply with an almost merry tone, her enthusiasm irking Eudora yet again.

"Whatever," Eudora grumbled. Then she paused and gave Sølvi a sly little look. "...but I guess he's good enough to save, right? That's why we're here..."

"But of course! Gary is such a kind man. I am indebted to him for letting me stay in his wonderful fortress, and offering such fine food and drink, and even sharing his treasures...yes, we must save him! And we will!" Sølvi exclaimed, her blindly optimistic tone comforting Eudora for all the wrong reasons.

Suddenly, a sharp whizzing sound flew past Eudora's head, followed by a stinging sensation. Out the corner of her eye, she saw a small explosion in the sand some feet away. Her eyes widened as she felt blood begin to trickle from her earlobe.

"Get down!" she yelled, looking back at Sølvi. The two of them dropped to the ground, ducking behind a dune. Two more shots were fired dangerously close.

"...The fuck? Someone is shooting at us?" Eudora grumbled.

"What manner of weapon is this? I do not see arrow shafts. Are they stones?" Sølvi exclaimed.

"No. Bullets," Eudora said. "Fuck. Someone's firing bullets at us. Can't be a pythoness, though..."

"Bullets?" Sølvi asked, gasping as another shot sent a small plume of sand up in front of her face.

"Yes. Think of them like arrows, but much faster, and much more deadly," Eudora replied, steeling herself. "Probably some fucking warlords or terrorists or whatever problem people have out here in this broke-ass country."

She calculated the distance in her mind and decided to make a jump for the tall rock about 15 feet away. It was the only object out here large enough to conceal them that could stop a bullet.

"Sølvi, on the count of three, we make a dash for that rock. One, two...three!"

The punk pythoness paused, figuring she'd let the Viking girl take the bullet if her timing was off. Sølvi acrobatically jumped the full distance, landing on her behind with a painful thump. Eudora lunged forward, her saggy body lacking its usual agility, and sprinted to the rock just in time to miss another bullet.

"I already hate this place," Eudora said. Sølvi just shrugged, more confused than frightened. In her burlap tunic and leather boots, she blended more easily into the monochrome sands, and Eudora was now glad she'd ditched her own dark clothing. Still, she didn't relish fighting in her underwear.

"I do not see our enemy...it is waiting for us to move," Sølvi said a bit blankly. "I...might be able to create a barrier for us, although I do not know how long it will hold if these 'bullets' are as deadly as you say."

"Do it," Eudora said, happy to let the girl use up her magic at her expense. She couldn't think of many other solutions, anyway. She would normally try to teleport to a better vantage point, but none seemed to exist; beyond the rock lay nothing but a mile-long stretch of flat desert. And the tall white conical structure beyond it—her destination—emanated some strong protective energy that made a straight shot to its gates impossible.

"Alright..." the Viking girl responded, shutting her eyes. She pressed her palms together under her large sweaty bosom and began the incantation: "Vér vetr níu várum leikur, öflgar alnar fyr jörð neðan..."

A golden light began to rise from between her fingers, then it fanned outward, creating a shimmering bubble around the both of them. The Viking girl winced, feeling the toll of this expenditure, but bravely sang the song louder, calling reverently to the Eir spirits.

Soon the bubble hardened into a darker shell. Sølvi huffed and lowered her arms. The temperature inside of this barrier was cooler than the external world now, a respite which they both relished.

"Good job. Follow me," Eudora said, watching the shell follow her footsteps as she crept out from behind the rock. "We're going to run. As fast as we can. Straight towards the castle. There's no other way. Do you think this will hold that long?"

"I do not know," Sølvi gasped. "I will try my best, pretty heks, I promise!"

Eudora sheathed her shovel and started to dash, but found that Sølvi very quickly outstripped her speed. The edge of the mystic shell kept shoving Eudora forward, prodding her stumbling body across the sands as her companion ran swiftly ahead.

Cursing under her breath, the punk pythoness stumbled. Try as she might, her awkward new body struggled to keep up. All around them, they could hear the sound of ricocheting bullets. Each time one hit, the protective shell flashed a slightly lighter color.

By the time they reached the marble steps of the structure, Eudora was covered head to toe in sand, bruised and furious. The shield around them was now a very pale yellow, and Sølvi began to look very concerned.

"Pretty heks! I cannot hold the spell any longer!" she yelled, panting with exhaustion. The heavy axe on her back felt like a deadweight now, but she knew she'd need it soon.

"There!" Eudora said, spotting a window high up where a shadowy figure held a sniper rifle. With a roar, the punk pythoness threw out her arm and cast a spell that sent a magmatic fireball hurtling towards the mysterious assailant. The figure quickly ducked out of the way, but the impact blew open a hole in the facade.

"Damn you!" Eudora yelled, readying herself in case the sniper reappeared.

In that moment, Sølvi's barrier finally faded. The viking girl fell to one knee, drained of nearly all of her magical powers. Still, she knew she had her ordinary powers—her strong body, her fierce fighting spirit, her instinct. She rose back up and squinted at the flaming hole in the side of the large cone. "Did you kill...it?" she asked.

"I doubt it," Eudora said, squinting. Her eyes trailed over to the gate. She knew there was no time for clever infiltration left. Brute force was the only option now. She cast a blunt-force spell towards the large iron door securing the building, then another.

The door eventually caved inwards and crumpled, falling backwards with a thunderous clang. Beyond it, they could see a tremendous, lavish carpeted hall.

"This is it," Sølvi said with some excitement. Of course, she did not truly know what "it" really was. This whole trip that lead them to the heart of Danakil desert had been described to her as a "rescue" mission. She'd been told that Gary had somehow been captured by a jealous rival pythoness, and was being held here.

As they made their way forward, Eudora thought a bit more about this lie. She was surprised that it worked, given how sloppily she'd improvised it. Nevertheless, it was apparently all that was needed to compel Sølvi to follow her into the mouth of madness.

If only she knew...Eudora thought to herself, recalling a grisly scene from the not-too-distant past. Gary was, in fact, long gone—something she'd made sure of days ago.

Her motive was uncomplicated. The man had simply seen too much.

He should have stayed at work. He should have uncritically heeded Eudora's hurried, typo-laden text message. He should have trusted the police to inform him had something serious truly happened. He would have done those things if he knew what was good for him, Eudora thought—but then, if he knew that, he would never have "dated" her in the first place.