tagErotic HorrorThe Contest

The Contest

byColleen Thomas©

A harsh wind blew down out of the Sierra Madre's, carrying with it tiny bits of rock and dust that stung exposed skin and wore away rocks. The sun beat down relentlessly on the valley floor, raising the temperature to the point that nothing moved in the heat of the day unless it was a dire emergency.

A gray wolf lay in her den under the natural overhand created by an ancient rockslide. Her sharp eyes picked out movement on the valley floor far below her. A small procession of beings that moved upright was raising a thin cloud of dust. She watched for a while, curiously, and then dismissed them as no threat to her or her two cubs. She stretched and then moved deeper into the dark coolness of her cave.

Twenty one was the actual number of the group. Ten men, ten women and the old medicine woman. As it had been for uncounted years this was the correct number. Only Hila, the medicine woman, wore traditional garb, the rest were dressed in a mishmash of traditional and modern clothes. They had been moving since before sunup to reach this sacred place deep in the mountains. Some years before prospectors for one of the big oil companies had cut a road in, but tradition demanded they walk and so they did.

On a flat stone outcropping, the men laid large bonfires to be lit once night came, while the women erected the ancient tepee. It was a buckskin color and meticulously maintained. Only the lodge poles were new, cut from aspen near the timberline, days before.

As darkness fell, the blistering heat abated rapidly. People seemed ignorant of the fact that a desert at night was as frigidly cold as it was blisteringly hot during the day. That same dry mountain wind now carried a chill that cut through clothing like it wasn't there.

The bonfires were lit and the silent people gathered around them to cook meat, taken in the traditional way.

The quiet of the desert night was broken by the muted roar of engines. In the vast emptiness of an empty land they made a haunting sound as they climbed the steep grade. They became louder and louder until six motorcycles pulled up and stopped before the fire. Each bike was black, save for a red hourglass painted on the fuel tank. The riders were all women and all were very big women save for the lithe girl who rode behind the leader. She alone rode double and compared to the powerful woman in front of her she seemed fragile. The illusion was deceptive, however, for Andrea Sanchez was anything but frail.

She was only a few inches above five feet tall and gracefully built. Her breasts were small and tight and rode high on her chest. Her legs were long and lean, with enough muscle to be shapely, but not enough to be bulky. Her long dark hair, brown eyes, high cheekbones and coppery skin were the gifts of her Sioux mother, while the wide hips, bubble butt and sensuous lips were the gifts of her Hispanic father. The ragged jeans, demure white blouse, cowboy boots, and the denim jacket with a black widow spider on the back were her own.

She nodded to one of the two men standing sentinel outside the flap that covered the entrance to the teepee and then ducked inside. A fire blazed brightly in a circle of rocks at the center of the dwelling and blankets and pillows were spread over the hard ground. Her maternal grandmother was seated next to the fire. Hila's once raven hair had long ago turned silver and her doeskin dress hung loosely where it once clung to her curves. She sat cross-legged, with her back ramrod straight.

Andrea didn't want to be here; in fact she didn't even know why she had prevailed on Lina to bring her. The big biker disdained her Native American heritage and was obviously displeased that Andrea didn't do the same. The old woman watched her as she seated herself across the fire, but she did not speak.

"Well, hello to you too, Grandma. Nice to see you as well. Yes, everything's great with me," Andrea said sarcastically.

"This is not a night for levity," the old woman declared.

"And just what the fuck is it a night for, Grandma? Calling up ghosts? Making big medicine? Maybe putting on our war paint and taking a few scalps? Why did you demand I come to this fucking cold and desolate place? I had plans for the evening!"

"Your lesbian lover can do without you in her bed for a night," the old woman said, and chuckled softly at the look of shock that passed over Andrea's pretty features.

"How did you know?" she blurted out.

"The sins of Lina Runningbear are known to me and her proclivities are known to everyone in the village. Do you think there are no whispers about you? No rumors floating around? Do you think she doesn't brag about who she is sleeping with when deep in her cups? For someone who considers herself so worldly, you really are naïve. Let us hope not tragically so."

"No one has ever said anything to me," Andrea said defiantly, but there was a questioning note in her voice.

"Of course not. You are my grand child, and no one in the village will risk speaking out against you. But my time here grows short, and my destination on this long journey is now in sight. Soon you will have to take my place, if you're able."

"I don't want to take your place. I want out of this shit hole. Lina is taking me to Vegas when the Widows pull out of here next week."

"What you want is of little consequence. I have chosen you from among my living kindred and thus you will take the test this night."

"What if I don't want to?" Andrea cried.

"It makes no difference. I wish I could have prepared you better, your insolence and rebelliousness will be a great danger to you, but I lingered too long in making my choice due to your mother," she lamented.

At the mention of her mother, Andrea's face turned ugly. Her eyes blazed with hatred and even the stern old woman flinched.

"I have no mother," she spat.

"Of course you do, child. No one springs from the grass or rocks. I was there the night you were born."

"Where was my mother when I was a child and needed love? Turning tricks for my asshole father in Tijuana. Where was she when I graduated from Jr. High? On a bender in Reno with Jack Tickimup. Where was she when I had my first dance recital? High as a fucking kite over at Marv Donto's place. Every time I have ever needed her, she has been too drunk, too stoned, too high, or too busy getting laid to be there for me."

"I've been there, child."

"I know, Grandmother," Andrea said, releasing a long sigh. "If it weren't for you, there's no telling how Sarah and I would have turned out. Look, I know this hocus pocus is important to you and I know I owe you everything. I'll take this hokey test to make you happy, but please don't mention that woman again."

"For once in your life, don't disdain the ways of your ancestors. If you enter the dreamlands with a light heart you will be utterly consumed."

"You can't scare me. I don't believe in the dream lands, or the happy hunting grounds or brother Coyote. It's all crap," she said.

The old woman sighed heavily.

"You think you know it all. Newer is better. The white man rules the world and thus his god is greater. You crave the things his world offers and wish to leave the land that nurtured you for the bright lights and big cities."

"I want to experience the real world, not live in this backwater forever," Andrea reiterated. Her tone was less harsh, however. Her grandmother really had been the only one who was ever there for her or kind to her. At least until Lina came along.

"You know nothing. And I have little time to prepare you. If you will not listen, then go," the old woman shouted.

Andrea jumped to her feet and rushed to the flap, but stopped and heaved a heavy sigh. She turned and sat back down, shaking her head.

"I'm sorry, Grandmother. You gave my sister and me the only home we knew and the only love we ever got. This is really important to you, isn't it?"

"There is nothing more important."

"Then I will listen and I'll do my best to please you."

"There is little I can tell you. Your test will be in the spirit world. Had you been less head strong, I would have taken you there before now, but that cannot be helped. The spirit world is a parallel to our own, they exist side-by-side, but only shaman crossover voluntarily. You will enter that world through a gate, here in this teepee, and you will arrive there in a teepee. Do not leave the Teepee for anything!"

"Why?" Andrea asked, interested despite her disbelief. The old woman's ardent belief was either rubbing of on her or she was letting her imagination get carried away, she thought even as she asked.

"The Teepee was constructed by a great medicine man, long ago. Within the spirit world it is a kind of safe haven. You are not prepared to venture outside of it and your mind would be broken if you did. That which will come to test you will try to lure you outside for in the unbroken darkness it is strongest."

"What is it?"

"Explaining that would take far longer than we have, the moon grows by the moment," the old woman said.

Andrea examined her face closely, she was either lying or something moved her from saying more. It looked almost as if she was struggling to tell her something, but just couldn't. The young woman couldn't tell what was wrong, but she was used to her Grandmother's idiosyncrasies and so didn't press. The old woman passed a gourd to Andrea.

"Once you drink, your journey will begin. Remember, my granddaughter, that world and this one coexist. What hurts you here will hurt you there, what kills you here will kill you just as dead there, what feels good here will fell good there," she said.

Andrea noticed the emphasis the old woman put on the word good and wondered just what she was getting at.

"All right, lets get this over with," Andrea said as she raised the gourd to her nose. She stopped and sniffed deeply, it smelled familiar. Her mind grouped for exactly what scent she detected. "What's in it?"

"Various things, nothing harmful, but it will help ease you through the door. Remember, do not leave the teepee."

"Right," Andrea said as she took a swallow of the clear liquid.

She immediately felt strange, a rush of blood suffused her skin, causing her nipples to harden and blood to rush to her sex. The world began to swim in her vision and as it faded to black her mind recognized the scent. It smelled like pussy.


Andrea awakened in the teepee. How much time had passed, she didn't know. There was a disconnected sense of time out of sync and she half suspected her grandmother had drugged her. It was then she noticed her grandmother was gone. She stood up carefully, expecting to be dizzy, but she felt no aftereffects from the liquid. Lina is gonna be so pissed if I've been out all night, she thought.

A little thrill passed through her body. She didn't like pissing Lina off, but when she did, it usually meant a workout in the big woman's bed.

She made her way toward the flap of the teepee, but stopped when her hand settled on the soft buckskin and looked curiously around the interior of the tepee. The fire was still burning, but the furnishings had been changed. The floor was now covered in pelts and the pillows were gone, as was the gourd she had drank from. On the floor, a tomahawk and spear sat next to a bow and quiver of arrows. They looked real, not like the "authentic" ones her grandmother's people sold to tourists, and they looked ancient. The interior walls, which had been pristine, were now covered in mystic symbols. She recognized some: Brother Coyote, the trickster; Father Bear, the wise; and Great Owl, the ever vigilant.

"Grandmother?" she called, but the silence that greeted her was total. No wind stirred and no creatures of the night gave voice to their joy at being alive. The great bonfires outside didn't crackle or pop and even the normally raucous voices of the Widows were stilled. Andrea had the strangest feeling that she was totally alone in the whole of the world. The lithe girl became aware of sounds after a while and suddenly the night air outside the Teepee became filled with whispers.

"Hello?" she called again. She listened, but there were no words, only the muffled whispers of many voices. She could make out no distinct voices, but she got the impression they were talking about her, for some reason. She cocked her head and tried to make out the words.

Outside, she heard a baby cry. It was a single drawn out and plaintive note and she opened the flap before she even thought. She could see noting outside, the darkness was absolute. No fires, no people, no bikes, not even the stunted trees that grew around the sacred place. The whispers had ceased and the only sound was the baby's desperate wail for attention.

"Don't leave the teepee!" her mind screamed, even as her legs tried to carry her out into the stygian darkness. Her body seemed to be trying to act without her mind's control and it was only with a Herculean effort of will that she pulled herself back. She collapsed on the floor, panting from the effort and only as she noticed the sweat on her breasts did she realize she was naked.

"What the fuck?" she said aloud, looking around for her clothes.

"Grandmother, where are you? This isn't funny," she cried.

Still the night held no sound.

"Lina? Somebody? Anybody!" she shouted, feeling desperately alone and frightened.

A horrible scream rent the night and she looked up, eyes dilated with fear. The sounds outside rose to a mad cacophony. Screams of unspeakable pain, bellows of mindless rage, shrieks of unearthly pleasure and heart rending sobs. Andrea closed her eyes and covered her ears with her hands, but the sounds continued to tear at her sanity. Each one was completely evocative of the absolute extreme of the emotion it mimicked and she felt it like a physical force.

She felt the pain of a man skinned alive. She clenched her hands with the mindless rage of a father who sees his son killed before his eyes. She gasped as orgasmic delight coursed through her body, crossing the threshold from unendurable pleasure to exquisite agony. She cried with the pain of a mother holding her dead child in her arms. Andrea clutched desperately at the bearskin she was lying upon and forced as much of it as she could into her ears, but to no avail.

Suddenly, when she felt she could take no more and must surely go insane, all was silent again. After the tumult it was a relief, but a relief that brought a deeper dread than she had ever known.

Andrea dragged herself to her knees and panted heavily. She was staring into the nothingness outside the doorway when she heard musical laughter. Did she see something move out there beyond the weak light cast by the fire? Or was her mind playing more tricks on her? She glanced about desperately, seeking some way out of this place, but there was none.

A flash of movement caught her eye and she jerked her head back to the opening. A deeper blob of darkness detached itself from the back ground of the void and approached the entrance.

Andrea stared in fascination as a black woman entered the teepee.

She was black, but not black like an African. Her skin was the same cobalt black as the void outside. It was so deep that it seemed to draw in light, dimming the bright fire's glow to less than a candle. Andrea had the sudden impression of timeless darkness, like the yawning interstellar gulfs between stars. A hungry blackness that fed upon light and life, but hated both.

The impression had no rhyme or reason, but she couldn't shake it and the longer she stared the more certain she became that it was an epiphany and not her imagination. The darkness was so intense her eyes began to water and she had to look away.

When she looked back she took in the whole woman rather than just the stuff of her being and Andrea found herself staring at... herself. Herself, rendered in cobalt by a sculptor of unimaginable brilliance. Every hair on the head was faithfully represented. From the small scar on her hip, a reminder of a childhood accident on her tricycle to her impeccably shaved mound it was an exact replica.

Long legs, pert breasts, tiny nipples, sleek arms and soft ass, all were faithfully represented. Except for the eyes, those were impenetrable wells of inky blackness filled with hate and malice so powerful it seemed to physically threaten her. In those eyes she saw time immemorial and a hungry blackness that longed only to consume all before it until only darkness remained

"Who are you?" Andrea asked in a quavering voice, but there was no response. She swallowed hard and got a hold of herself.

"What do you want?" she tried again, and this time an image flashed into her brain, of this creature and herself, their bodies entwined and making love. She seemed to be viewing the action from above and the black woman lay atop her. Their heads were buried between each other's legs and moans filled the Teepee. The contrast between her seemingly pale skin and the velvety blackness of the woman was quite erotic and she had to shake her head to remove the image from her mind. So powerful had it been, that her nipples were hard points and her breath was coming in little gasps.

"Isn't this supposed to be some kind of test?" She asked, shaking off the image once and for all.

The creature cocked her head and stared into Andrea's eyes. The lithe girl felt herself being drawn into those eyes, they promised sexual ecstasy that nothing could rival. Orgasms that were soul shattering. She saw the dark creature with another woman and for a moment felt an intense pang of jealousy. Their bodies were twined upon the same rug, but, instead of viewing from above, Andrea was transported into the body of that other woman.

She felt the black woman's silken tongue dancing over her clit, thrilled to the sensation of her finger driving in and out of her pussy. She felt the woman's fear too, her fear and anguish and a deep revulsion as her body responded to the black woman's touch. She felt the woman's orgasm arrive, tendrils of white hot pleasure shot out from her pulsing sex and rose to a crescendo so violent that the pleasure became unendurable agony.

With disconcerting suddenness she was above the scene again, no longer feeling the woman's humiliation and pain, just a spectator. Andrea saw the look of malevolent glee on the creature's face when her partner came with a shriek of ecstasy that turned to a keening cry of pain and sorrow. Even as that cry echoed around the teepee the creature dissolved into a black shadow that covered her shrieking victim.

When the black shadow coalesced back into the beautiful woman, her lover's body was a dried husk. The creature howled in blasphemous pleasure, not the pleasure of carnal lust, but the heedless pleasure of wanton destruction of something good and pure. Before her eyes, the black woman was transformed into a huge maggot-like creature with thousands of dripping mouths and hundreds of red eyes.

Andrea shook her head violently to clear it before looking up at the creature again. No maggots, no eyes, no mouths, just her own beautiful countenance, but she knew it was a lie.

"No fucking way I'm touching you," she hissed.

She was still panting and her body was tighter than any knot. The creature captured her eyes again and Andrea saw another pair of lovers. This time the creature screamed in pleasure, and a door opened within the room. The woman, who looked disturbingly familiar rose and quickly exited to the light. It took her a while, but eventually she realized these visions were how this thing communicated. And she also realized what the scenes implied.

"Wait a minute. You're saying I am stuck here unless I make you cum, but if you make me cum you will destroy me? Is this the test?"

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byColleen Thomas© 2 comments/ 46981 views/ 9 favorites

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