(IV)
SG sat in the lotus position atop a crystal pillar. Arrayed around her were
all the gods and goddesses, on their thrones. The clouds behind them were
suffused with a golden light. Music from instruments unseen and
unrecognizable filled the heavens, blending with the murmur of the deities.
A bearded figure, chief among the gods, leaned forward and asked her if she
regretted surrendering her powers. Did she realize now that only by saving
others could she save herself?
SG lowered her eyes. She was reluctant to defy a being so powerful and
wise, yet she was determined not to resume her role as superheroine.
"I cannot," she said. "I can no longer be what I was. I'm sorry."
"Then know that we cannot protect you. Your powers were inextricably
linked. You have lost the strength to defeat an army of mere mortals. Soon,
you yourself will be mortal. Death will be your destiny if you pursue this
selfish course."
She raised her eyes. The god's face was now only a few feet from hers. It
was enormous, filling her entire field of vision, crowding out all else....
**
SG found herself looking up into the very fat face of an enormous man. He
had been leaning on a thick black cane, but he now shifted his weight,
flipped the cane and hooked the handle into the ring on her collar. He
lifted her up as if he were pulling a trout from a stream. Obese and lame he
may have been, but it was clear that he was also very strong.
"Who are you, child, and how did you get here?"
She stood unsteadily, her knees still weak from all she had endured.
"Don't worry," the man said. "I won't let you fall."
"Thank you. My name is... I don't know my name. She calls me Trash Girl."
"She? You mean Stick's lady friend? Ah, yes. She's quite unbalanced, you
know. I hope you haven't had much to do with her. Has she beaten you?"
"Yes," said SG.
"You don't look like you've been beaten," said the man. "I've seen some of
the women she's worked over. Whatever they looked like before, they
certainly weren't beautiful when she finished with them - and you, by
contrast, are quite beautiful, quite delectable."
"Thank you," said SG.
"Much too delectable to be mishandled by that over-muscled dyke. I think I
can help you, and perhaps you can help me. Stick is a good tenant, but he's
behind on his rent, and his girlfriend has done some minor damage to the
apartment. I think it would be quite appropriate, and beneficial to all
concerned, if you became their security deposit. What do you think?"
"I will do as you say. But please ... please don't hurt me."
"That, alas, I cannot guarantee. It is so easy to hurt others without even
being aware of it. But I will do my best to be kind."
At this point, he removed his soiled white shirt and covered her naked body.
She noted his enormous rolls of fat. Never had she seen anyone so huge.
"There," he said. "I've given you the shirt off my back. What more could
anyone ask?"
*****
Mr. Cochon, for that was his name, took her up to his apartment, which had
the same layout as Stick's but was more tastefully decorated, a rather
modest achievement.
All the chairs were quite large, and the bed SG saw when she glanced through
one door was enormous - big enough for four or five normal-sized people to
sleep quite comfortably.
Mr. Cochon told her to make herself comfortable in the living room, then
went into the kitchen. He returned with a glass of ice water and a white
pill.
"I'm brewing a pot of tea," he said. "Take this. It will relax you."
"Thank you, but I don't need medication," she answered.
"Don't think of this as medicine. Think of it as a comforting friend,
someone in whom you can have absolute trust."
"Okay," she said. "I guess it can't hurt."
She washed the pill down with water, then waited for something to happen.
She didn't have to wait long.
Mr. Cochon was talking about recipes and restaurants. There was a small
place in Charlotte he especially liked, a place where they made a delicious
kidney pie.
She smiled and nodded politely but found it difficult to follow his
conversation. She was sitting on an overstuffed sofa, and the cushions
seemed to invite her to lie down, if only for a moment.
*****
Mr. Cochon rose quietly and examined the sleeping girl. She was indeed very
lovely. If her insides matched her outside, she would have the most
extraordinary organs.
He lifted her, brought her into the dining room and laid her out on a long
mahogany table. He removed the shirt he had given her and stroked and poked
her body. Excellent muscle tone. Very nice breasts, with nipples like milk
chocolate buttons atop two mounds of peach sherbet. He leaned down and
sniffed her pussy. It would be quite lovely, sauteed in butter and garlic.
Then he frowned. Money. He would be a fool to devour what could bring a very
pretty price at the Medical Center. And after all, he had his financial
future to think about. He wasn't getting any younger, he couldn't work at
any conventional job, and his rental properties brought in barely $75,000 a
year.
Decisions, decisions.
He rubbed her belly with his fat hand, then leaned over and licked her
crotch.
Quite extraordinary. He sighed. The future, he told himself, think of the
future -and not of the feast foregone.
