Sisters of Sodom

"A hole for me to...what?!" Eudora yelled, her stomach twisting and turning noisily.

"Come!" Sølvi yelled, taking Eudora's hand and leading her, stumblingly, down a jagged hallway. Approaching a circular wooden door at the end, she kicked it open, revealing an untidy outer ward spotted with tussock and overgrown with frosty weeds. She pointed at a shallow ditch nearby. "There!"

She tugged Eudora's reluctant figure along with her, and then, when they were upon the ditch, she let go of her wrist and backed away. "What the hell is going on?!" Eudora barked, her face rose with embarrassment. Her body told her all too well what was going on, and she knew the reason for Sølvi's sudden silence, and why she now turned away.

Eudora felt an immense pressure suddenly build in her rectum. In a panic, she tugged her multilayered pants and undergarments down. "Get out of here! Go!" she barked, though Sølvi had already anticipated the need for privacy and quickly disappeared back behind the door.

"Damn it!" Eudora grunted as she squatted over the hole. She felt the cold winds fan her round exposed bottom and shuddered. She then heard a vile screech, and another, as her anus began to open painfully wide.

With a vivid and echoic fart, a massive load of dying worms tumbled out of her asshole. Their writhing and shriveled bodies quickly filled up the ditch as Eudora fought back tears of anguish.

As she voided the depths of her irritated colon, her rage and humiliation grew, and now she wanted nothing more than to mangle Ayaka and Hailey in the crudest of ways. Gouging their eyes out, pulling their teeth, cutting their breasts off...these homicidal thoughts were the only thing that comforted her in the middle of this painful expulsion.

When the final worm fell from her obscenely stretched anus, the cacophony of squeals finally died down. Blood, slime and fecal muck ran down her smooth legs, caking on the inside of her perfectly round buttocks. The bitter polar air swept against it, fastening the residue to her skin.

Her knees felt weak. She fell to them, shouting angry obscenities and pounding the stony ground with her forearms.

Even from far within the interior of her fortress, Sølvi could hear Eudora's cries, and in her naiveté found them piteous. She waited until the wailing had ceased, and then carefully made her way back to the courtyard.

There she found Eudora laying on her back. Her pants were back up, but the spots of blood leading from the ditch to her resting place told the whole story.

Eudora's eyes were distant. Her face twitched, and her hands were balled into tight fists. Sølvi slowly approached her, keeping her distance. "Pretty heks..." she started, waiting to see the reaction.

Eudora said nothing, and did not move. Her mind was racing through a series of psychotic delusions, fractured bits of memory being reconfigured to create a grotesque, vivid revenge fantasy.

"Pretty heks...?" Sølvi repeated again, stepping closer. Still, no response. Finally, she said, "Hey...pretty heks...I will show you my treasure, if you wish to see it..."

Eudora's eyes suddenly flew to the girl, her gaze communicating nothing but zealous bloodlust.

"Show it," Eudora demanded. "You ugly cunt..."

Sølvi paused. "Why do you speak to me this way, pretty heks?"

"Because I hate you..." Eudora said with a seething tone. "I hate all pythonesses. I hate all people, for that matter. Now show me your treasure, cunt."

The viking girl's eyes began to mist. "Why are you like this?" she responded. "I help you, and yet you speak to me as if I am your enemy. I am not your enemy, pretty heks. I promise you this..."

"All pythonesses are my enemy!" Eudora yelled, sitting upright and fixing Sølvi with a malicious stare.

"But, I-I am not a regular pythoness," Sølvi pleaded. "I am an Eir witch. A healer..."

The viking girl's revelation momentarily broke through Eudora's psychosis. "Eir witch...?" Eudora repeated in slow recognition. She remembered the scant few illustrations of these kinds of "medic witches" that existed in the old texts, at least the ones she'd bothered opening. "Huh. Really? Shit, I guess that explains your golden touch. I thought your kind died off long ago."

"Perhaps I am the last of my kind...most healer witches were not taught how to fight. My father taught me how to fight, to survive, as only a true viking warrior can. If only he had taught the others, before it was too late...but, I cannot dwell on regrets..."

"Then that means you can heal my sore ass, right?" Eudora said.

"Oh! Yes, of course," Sølvi said. She leaned over and grabbed Eudora gently by the arms. The punk pythoness's eyes dropped to the massive pale cleavage that hung beneath the viking girl's rickety armor, and then she felt herself being flipped over on her stomach.

In turn, Sølvi took note of Eudora's unusually ample backside. She placed her hand above Eudora's round cheeks, and focused her energy, this time with a new, more melodious chant:

Hagl gudene, hagl gudinnene,

hagl jorden som gir alle,

Wisdom og god tale jeg ber deg,

Og helbredende hender, I dette livet...

As the chant's magic weaved its way through her body, Eudora felt a sense of calm return to her. This girl's voice carried a tranquility with it, throaty and sour as it was, and the punk pythoness felt the agitation in her bowels begin to simmer.

The burn in her anus cooled over, the muscle tightening snugly closed, the muck disintegrating. Elsewhere, the bruises and friction burns on her limbs from her struggle against the vines eased. She felt her emptied stomach, please to find that its concave arc had been perfectly restored. Soon Eudora felt nearly like new again.

Sølvi, on the other hand, suddenly looked very tired. She clutched her heart, panting, her face sweaty and flushed.

"I'm sorry, pretty heks...I-I must stop," Sølvi said, slouching on one knee. "Putting worms to sleep is one thing, but to truly heal such a profound wound takes much magical power. I believe you should be fully healed...are you not?"

Eudora rose back to her knees, then slowly stood. She said nothing to the girl. It was true, this silly little mountain girl had completely restored Eudora at her own expense. And now Eudora was approaching a position of equal footing with her.

"You will give me the treasure," Eudora said, looming over Sølvi.

"I cannot, pretty heks...I am sorry," Sølvi responded, struggling to stand up against a nearby oak tree. "But I can show it to you. Because you are my guest, I will do this if you wish."

"Fine! Show it to me," Eudora snapped. She knew that if Sølvi were truly still in possession of one of the sacred treasures, attempting to take it by force may still be unwise, especially since she hadn't regained all of her magical power yet.

The viking girl finally stood upright and wiped the sweat from her face. "Very well," she said. She reached for the copper buckle of her belt. Eudora's steely eyes fell to the girl's fingers expectantly.

Those grimy, ugly fingers. They don't deserve to touch that treasure, Eudora thought to herself. It should belong to me, the undisputed heir to the throne of High Pythoness. Walking perfection. Not this grubby little waif!

The buckle undone, Sølvi's heavy tunic came apart at the middle. She fiddled around with a second, smaller ropelike belt beyond this, undoing its knot and letting it fall to the ground.

With it immediately fell a two other things: a mottled green sarong, and an absolutely enormous penis.

The latter did not reach the ground, but met it halfway, swinging between and just below the girl's knees.

"What the fuck?!" Eudora exclaimed, wide-eyed. "You're a guy?!"

"Oh, no..." Sølvi said with a smile. "I am a woman, just like you." Her grimy little fingers brought Eudora's attention to the flat gold band around her waist, tapping it.

"This is the treasure, Freyr's Belt. Freyr is the god of fertility, you see, and it endows the wearer with the scepter of his seed. My father's tribe found that this ancient belt has many uses, healing uses. The soup you ate, which healed you so? Its most important ingredient is Freyr's seed."

"Holy shit—you don't mean...did you jizz in my soup, bitch?!" Eudora roared.

Sølvi was unfamiliar with the word "jizz," but she understood it in context. "Um, yes..." she said, lowering her head. "I understand you may think it disgusting...but the seed of the gods is very important to this medicine. I could not have helped you without this belt..."

"Are you serious?!"

"I am sorry that I could not tell you earlier, but I wanted you to heal first. Now that you are better, I feel that I have done my duty."

Eudora spit on the ground several times. "Ew, Jesus! You filthy she-bitch!" She stormed up to Sølvi, raised her hand, and smacked the girl across the face so hard that it sent her flying back against the tree.

Sølvi simply absorbed the blow, looking away. "I am sorry," she repeated calmly as she gained her footing. Eudora's eyes flew back to the girl's dirty hands, expecting them to reach for the axe strapped to her back, or some other weapon hidden on her person.

The girl did no such thing, however. She merely stood, her eyes staring off into the woods. Eudora thought to strike her again, but something about the lack of resistance the girl displayed, the almost martyr-like way in which she allowed herself to be struck—gave her pause.

Perhaps these "Eir Witches" were the selfless saints she'd heard. Either that, or merely fools. Most likely both, considering the rest of them had been murdered by the historically power-mad pythonesses of Eudora's own ilk.

She lowered her hand, and glanced again at the massive penis jutting from between the girl's legs. Its vascular shaft was nearly as thick as a pine's trunk, and its pale color blended to a ruddier hue near the bell-shaped head. Behind it, an equally sizable pair of balls rested, flexing slightly against the cold wind.

Eudora stared at the fleshy, hairless base, spotting no obvious trickery, and concluded that this really was Sølvi's own anatomy, at least as long as she wore this belt.

The girl's large bust, curvy hips and youthful, undeniably feminine face contrasted strangely with this monstrous organ displayed between her legs, but the longer Eudora stared, the more she felt a peculiar sensation run through her.

She knew she'd have to wrest the belt away from this girl at some point, and wear it, conferring its strange powers to her. And while she certainly did not relish forsaking a particularly important part of her female anatomy merely to inherit the power of the gods, she had faith that this would only be a temporary situation; a witch who has acquired all of the artifacts is certainly should no longer be bound by their individual elements.

Sølvi somberly picked up her belt and sarong. Eudora saw how, through an artful series of loops and tucks, her loins were packed safely away and rendered almost invisible behind all of her dense forest gear. "I will leave you to finish resting now," she said to the punk pythoness. "It is clear that I have upset you. Perhaps we can talk more when you are feeling better."

"Wait," Eudora said. "You know I came here for the object around your waist. I need it, you see. You said you would keep it on the island until your last days. You do understand that if you don't pass it along to someone else before you die, pythonesses in the future will simply dig you up and take it from your carcass? Wouldn't be the first time necromancers have robbed a grave."

"What they would not know," Sølvi replied softly, "is that you cannot remove it from the rightful holder by force, even in death. It must be bestowed, this is part of its power."

Eudora fought back the urge to openly yell. If this girl was telling the truth, there was only one other way to get this item from her. It was a method requiring a skill she'd been honing all her life.

"Have you ever been to the outside world, Sølvi? Perhaps, if you're curious, I could take you there..." Eudora said in a lower, seductive register, edging closer to the girl and batting her eyes slowly.

"Outside world?" the girl said, confused. "I do not know what you mean."

"You do know there's a whole world outside of this island, don't you?" Eudora said, forcing a little smile.

"You are always so funny, pretty heks. This is nonsense," Sølvi said, shaking her head. "Beyond this white fog there is nothing else. Even my falcon tells me so."

"Then how do you explain me? Where do you think I came from? Where do you think that ship that brought me here came from?" Eudora replied in an affectedly calm tone, actively concealing her growing annoyance.

"This is easy. Legend says that those who come from the white fog are souls sent from the gods to challenge viking warriors," Sølvi said. "Some come to challenge us, to build our strength. Others come to teach us valuable lessons..."

"I don't understand—" Eudora started.

"For this I am thankful to Odin!" Sølvi continued. "He must have sent you. And he must have sent that woman with the strange eyes...Odin was testing me, to see how well I could hide one of his treasures! There is no other world but Valhalla..."

Just then, the roar of an airplane could distantly be heard. "There," Eudora said, pointing to the cloudy sky. "You hear that, Sølvi? It's an airplane. A modern invention. People use it to fly all over the world."

The young viking girl just laughed. "You are so creative, pretty heks," she said, her smile returning despite the red mark on her face from Eudora's outburst. "I know this sound. I know this..." she pointed to the airplane passing quickly overhead, a mere dot ducking in and out of the billowy gray clouds.

"This is Hræsvelgr, the 'Corpse Swallower.' He rests at the northern edge of the heavens, see? Looks like he has done his day's work and is heading home. When he beats his wings in flight, he causes the wind to blow. This is why it has been so windy lately, I suppose."

Eudora put her face in her palm, mumbling, "Even on the most remote place on earth, I can't escape idiocy..."

She looked up at the smiling girl. "Look. We're gonna catch a ride in one of these airplanes—I mean, this Corpse Swallower you speak of."

Hearing this absurd idea, Sølvi continued to laugh for a moment, but when she saw the seriousness in Eudora's eyes, she paused and gave her a truly quizzical look.

"But...how...?" she asked.

"Simple. Do you have teleportation magic?"

"What is that?"

"Damn healers...never mind. Do you at least know where the cardinal directions are? You know, east, north—"

"Oh yes! Some of the maps and statues here chart those directions very clearly," Sølvi said confidently.

Eudora nodded slowly, a little unconvinced that an isolated tribe of island savages could have any real clue about such things. Still, she hadn't much else to go on at this point.

"Fine. We need to board the uh, 'Corpse Swallower' as it is heading west. Specifically, southwest. Can you identify that direction?"

"Yes, of course," Sølvi said, pointing immediately in the general direction of an ancient, loamy embankment.

"Good. Now give me a fortnight to rest uninterrupted. In that time, my powers will come back to me. When they do, we will wait for the Corpse Swallower. It will take us beyond this world, to the world outside."

"I do not think Hræsvelgr grants mortals transportation in this way..." the young Viking girl said cautiously, finding the idea bizarre as well as slightly offensive.

"Probably not, so ya better hope I can manage to teleport us into an unoccupied restroom up there or something, or else we'll have more explaining to do..."

This comment absolutely made no sense to Sølvi, but she found herself just nodding as Eudora touched her shoulder, teasing it with the subtle brush of her nails. "I can show you many, many things..." Eudora informed her. "After I rest."

"Oh...I see..." the Sølvi blurted confusedly, a thump accelerating beneath her bosom as she locked eyes with the striking punk pythoness. "Yes, please rest. I will show you the beds."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

3 WEEKS LATER: THE CITY

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Eudora took a deep breath and stared hard at the mirror in front of her. She knew that if she didn't calm down immediately, she'd end up doing something bad—something which would end in blood.

The simple fact was that Sølvi's anachronistic quirks were beginning to test the punk pythoness's patience. She'd been accommodating the Norwegian girl's newfound fascination with clothes shopping for nearly three hours that day. The thought of it extending to a fourth or more agitated her deeply.

Over the past week, Eudora had begun to detect an irksomely cheerful tinge to the Norwegian girl's manner. It seemed to blossom in direct proportion to the sense of awe the city inspired within the young forest girl.

In the wake of her initial culture shock, Sølvi had become something of a rabid consumer. Yet tellingly, she was indiscriminate in her tastes; her recent attire was a constantly-shifting mishmash of clashing styles and garish colors. Eudora normally wouldn't be caught dead walking around with anyone this clueless, but this was no ordinary situation.

The money issue was no skin off Eudora's back, of course. There was plenty of it to throw around, thanks to a certain lowly benefactor she'd be seeing later. Still, running around New York City playing dress-up lost its charm for her after the third boutique; in that time, they'd visited five more. Will this bitch ever run out of energy? She thought to herself. This is worse than babysitting...

To try and clear her mind, the punk pythoness decided to stay focused on her reflection. Her own face, of course, was the only one in the world she did not hate. Merely gazing at herself gave her some small peace of mind. She admired her spotless caramel skin, her elegant facial proportions, her immaculately-coiffed mass of raven hair.

This is the face of a ruler, she thought to herself. A goddess. Perfection. She took a few deep breaths and felt her heart rate begin to slow.

Just then, Sølvi poked her head through the changing room door. She stepped inside the small enclosure with Eudora, grinning. She wore a tight red and black checkered shirt that seemed to barely contain her ample bust.

"Look, pretty heks! This one cloth is even better than the other one before, isn't it? And look at the markings, so strange! What beast hide do you think this is?"

"Uh. I dunno," Eudora said. She quickly took in the unusual sight of a viking girl decked out in incongruous designer threads, then rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. She held them there and took another deep breath.

Don't yell. Don't do anything violent. Just relax, Eudora told herself, even though she felt her hand impulsively begin to curl into a fist.

"Oh, do you dislike it?" The girl asked again, posing for her with a curious smile on her face.

"It's fine, Sølvi," Eudora said in a clipped manner, crossing her arms to tuck her trembling fists away. She attempted to force a smile, but it ended up looking like something a wince and a crooked smirk. That was the best she could muster.

"So...I guess you're done now that you look like a backup dancer at the Grammys?" the punk pythoness started, but Sølvi just excitedly disappeared around the corner again. "Damn mountain monkey..." was all Eudora could mutter between herself as she leaned back against the wall and readied herself for another long wait.

She went for a cigarette inside her jacket. "Fuck, I wouldn't be surprised if this has something to do with that viking artifact. Like, maybe it grants her a lot more stamina than any normal person?" she mumbled to herself.