Gone Fishin'

>Placid water languidly stirred by a gentle breeze surrounds you, the shore thick with green trees and mountains in the distance
>Leaning back in your trusty aluminum fishing boat, you were finally free
>Free to go fishing on the lake
>However it wasn’t perfect, that remote spot seemed to have some crafty fish
>Huge worms from the bait shop, handfuls of crickets, even some whole crayfish had disappeared off the hook with nothing more than a quick tug
>Yet if your hunch was right, this was because a real monster must’ve been swimming beneath you
>So… a sacrifice from your lunch might just be worth it
>First you lowered a chicken leg from the icebox into the blue depths
>The line tightens nearly as soon as you lost sight of the breaded meat, and goes slack again just as quickly
>With a sigh, you tried one more time
>Wincing as you pushed a fishhook through your grinder
>That time you were rewarded with a brief glimpse of something BIG snatching the sandwich, seemingly with urgency before the water scattered everything inside
>Running low on options, you decided to give the fishing part of fishing a break
>Always good to have a six pack ready for the slow part of the day
>Only when you reach back for a can, it’s gone
>They’re all gone
>No way you pushed all of them overboard without noticing
>The spot you placed them was damp, although that wasn’t uncommon for condensation on ice cold beer
>But a look by the side of your boat revealed a few huge bubbles, slowly drifting to the surface in the otherwise calm water
>Maybe you’ll just stick to watching the scenery for a bit
>Only a swell of water passes under your boat hard enough to rock it
>Looking over the other side of your boat to see what it was, you reflexively jumped back as something jumped out of the water to greet you
>Huge catfish whiskers bounce into your vision as your vessel nearly capsizes from the sudden weight climbing aboard
>Flopping with all the grace of, well a rather fat fish, into the limited space available you were wetly slapped by wet flopping belly and breasts
>With her thick fat fish tail hanging off the side she made herself comfortable, a heavy catfish woman wearing nothing but a murky t-shirt likely fallen into the lake years ago
>” GONE FISHIN’ ” is stretched and distended by her supple pale white underbelly, but as you’re distracted trying to make sense of this she booms out first
>”It’s your lucky day! You done caught a genu-ine MAGIC fish of the lake.”
>This claim was in stark contrast to the fact you hadn’t even tried to reel in the line this last attempt
>Getting even closer to you she seemed to slosh more than the boat as she shifted
>Likely full of every ounce of bait you’d thrown over so far
>With a pull of her likely grateful shirt to fully expose her midsection, she sure wasn’t shy about pressing that burbling stomach against you
>”Give ‘er a rub for good luck, honest you don’t know how rare an opportunity like this is just go on ahead.”
>Beckoning you with a curl of her whiskers as upturned as her grin, you decided to hesitantly meet the overbearing lady of the lake’s demands
>Sinking your fingers into the eagerly awaiting belly, the sensation was like pushing around a swarm of bubbles inside a thickly padded water mattress
>The dislodged gas pocket immediately erupted out her thick white lips in a disgustingly powerful belch capable of blowing back your hair in the fishy breeze of beer and pondscum
>”-OOOUuurp! Whew! That’s how you know it’s working. Keep going sugar. I was watching you work those strong arms from the reeds so I bet you can squeeze a lady a whole lot harder than that.”
>As much as this was disrupting your peaceful day on the lake, a part of you wanted to sink your fingers into those plush gurgling guts
>Really kneading your catch of the day, she responds with an unabashedly raunchy moan
>”I think I really feel the magic workin’ now…”
>Bracing yourself for another burp, she instead lifts her fat tail still dripping with water and does her best impression of a flooded boat motor
>Impossibly wet and bubbly pushing through all that pump catfish meat, she unloaded the kind of fart that would’ve blown a sailboat to shore
>Instead her ass reverberated against the aluminum floor, deeply buffeting the watercraft with a pent-up storm of bottom feeder fumes
>Flopping more on top of you than ever to force your hands in deeper and nearly smother you in the process she sighed with satisfaction
>”We’ve got a whole lot more of those to go before the real magic happens, keep pushing.”
>Buried in extra soft catfish you didn’t stop your massage on her relentless bubble guts to get a muffled response out
>”You’re not magic, are you?”
>She doesn’t answer, simply pumping out another fresh layer of flatulent fog to envelop your boat in
>”Because I don’t mind either way.”
>With a smile she unburies your head to plant a kiss
>”Aaahh, say what you will boy, but I feel pretty magical right now. Don’t mind if I help myself to some of this leftover bait while you’re at it.”
>Not the way you planned to enjoy the lake
>But you'd find a certain fish flopping into your pickup at the end of the day after the mere mention of BBQ on the trip back