G2A Many GEOs

Bunyip Request

Magus_Anon Jun 1st, 2019 1,544 Never
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  1.     Boulan had had many ideas of what noble responsibilities he would have after joining the Order, and slogging through some Godsforsaken marsh was not one of them. The swamps he and his fellow soldiers had been tasked with clearing out was adjacent to a wetland that was perfect for growing a certain type of spice bush. Though they were technically here to “dispatch of the evils lurking in the swamp to prevent demonic incursion,” every one of the soldiers he was with knew that they were just under-paid mercenaries for the plantation owner who was eyeing the plains.
  3. He sighed as a loud splash sounded from behind him, and a series of ripples washed past his boots.
  5. “For fuck sake Nosean, is it possible for you to go more than ten feet without falling? You seem to be the only one having this problem.” Said Boulan.
  7. The young man sputtered and flailed as his lanky form reemerged from the water.
  9. “It’s not my fault, you guys made me pick the path with the most roots.” He whined.
  11. “Are these things even roots? I don’t understand how the hell these trees can even survive without any dirt.” Said another soldier.
  13. “Speaking of land, it’s getting dark. We should find some place to make camp.”
  15. “Yes, no point trying this at night, this place gives me the creeps even at dusk. What do you think captain?”
  17. Boulan’s captain sighed and stretched his arms. “I suppose you’re right. This whole mission seems to be a waste of time; we haven’t seen anything but leeches and insects this whole excursion. Keep an eye out for land; we’ll make camp on the first thing we don’t sink up to our knees in.”
  19. There was a chorus of appreciative affirmations and the soldiers relaxed as they began talking amongst themselves and looking for anywhere besides knee-deep water to sleep.
  21. Boulan clenched his spear and grit his teeth as another splash came from the water behind him.
  23. “I swear on the Chief God, if I miss so much as a minute of sleep because you can’t walk like a functional human being, I’m taking it out of your hide, got it?”
  25. Silence.
  27. "Nosean?"
  29. Real silence. The hair on Boulan’s neck raised as he became acutely aware of a lack of birdsong or insects. The swamp was still, save for the soldiers talking and sloshing through the murky water. He turned in the direction Nosean had been.
  31. The water was frothy, but Nosean was deep enough so that his limbs could not break the surface and alert the others. Paralyzed with fear, Boulan watched as a scaly crest breached the water for a moment and disappeared back beneath the murk.
  33. “AMBUSH!”
  35.     By the time the word had left Boulan’s mouth, three more of his friends had been taken under. This time, he was able to get a glimpse of the assailants. Tiny fish children with clubs and simple spears tripped, tackled, or leg swept soldiers left and right, dragging them down. The remaining Order soldiers panicked, splitting away from the group and running, or clustering together around the captain. It made little difference, the soldiers could not see beneath the water’s surface, and their weapons were impossible to swing once they were under water. The stragglers were picked off one by one, and the knot of men was slowly broken apart man by man. Boulan was one of the only ones who was smart enough to climb a tree to escape the onslaught of invisible attackers. Taking hold of a low branch, he clambered up into the low branches and tried to block out the sounds of his comrade's wails.
  37. The attack was over in a matter of minutes. The bubbling pockets of water went still one by one, and his friends were carried away to their terrible fates. Some of them even appeared to be alive. Boulan remained motionless, afraid that even the slightest vibration may invoke another assault.
  39. “Hey… is anyone there?” asked a quiet voice.
  41. “It’s me, Boulan!” replied Boulan. “Who’s that?”
  43. “Kutno. Oh Gods, what are we going to do?” asked Kutno. Boulan couldn’t see what tree he had climbed into. He guessed that it was one of the neighboring trees by how close his voice was.
  45. “I-I don’t know. Let’s just wait until morning.” Said Boulan.
  47. “O-Okay. I guess that makes sense. We shouldn’t… try to save them, right?”
  49. “Save them?! Are you crazy?! You saw what happened to them. What the hell would the two of us do if a whole squad was wiped out in a few seconds?”
  51. “I know! I know. I… I just feel so powerless, you know?”
  53. Boulan sighed. “Yeah. I know what you mean. This isn’t how any of us wanted this mission to go, but this happens sometimes. We have to get back and report this. A more qualified force can clear the swamp and avenge them.”
  55. He heard a faint sob before Kutno gurgled an affirmation. Boulan did his best to find a comfortable position in the tree branches and was frustrated to find that the only way he could keep his hand from trembling was to clasp a branch.
  57. ~~~~~~
  59. “Boulan! Boulan! Wake up! Did you hear that?”
  61. Boulan nearly fell from his perch as Kutno’s alert roused him from the brink of slumber.
  63. “What is it?” grumbled Boulan rubbing his eyes.
  65. “I heard someone!” said Kutno.
  67. “What?”
  69. The two listened in silence.
  71. “Hello?” cried a faint voice.
  73. “There it is! I told you! Someone came for us!” said Kutno excitedly.
  75. “Idiot! It’s the middle of the night in a swamp! No one is coming for us!”
  77. “OVER HERE!” shouted Kutno.
  79. Boulan swore as the man began to shout and shake the branches of his tree in an effort to attract a savior.
  81. “It’s a demon! A demon you fool!” said Boulan. Kutno ignored him and continued to shout.
  83. A hum filled the air. Kutno’s pleas for rescue slowly dwindled as the din drowned him out.
  85. “Oh ho! Those little ones were right! There was one left over!”
  87. Peeking through the branches, Boulan watched as three figures hovered in front of the tree Kutno was hiding in. He screamed as they advanced on him. There was a short struggle and the three insect-women tore him from his leafy shelter.
  89. “Hee hee! You smell delicious~”
  91. “Aww, calm down! We won’t hurt you promise!”
  93. “As long as you don’t thrash too much when we’re biting you.”
  95. “Stop it! You’re scaring him!”
  97. The trio began to quarrel amongst themselves as they carried away the last of Boulan’s friends in a fit of screams. The hum of their wings faded into the distance and the swamp resumed its usual ambiance of croaks and hums as the night wore on.
  99. ~~~~~~
  101. Boulan didn’t sleep a wink. After what had happened to Kutno, he feared that even a moment of rest would leave him open to attack. He had to find a way to escape. Or find something to eat or drink or do something. He couldn’t come to terms with the fact that he may die in some tree in the middle of a swamp.
  103. Boulan ran his hands through his hair and tried to moisten his chapped lips with a dry tongue. His stomach growled in protest of its neglect, and his spine sent jolts of pain through his sore body with every motion. Spending hours at strange angles had given him cramps and pains in places he had never thought them possible.
  105. Readjusting himself in the low branches, he tried to see if the sun would rise soon. The moon spread across the water in a silvery-sliver, a streak of light being constantly interrupted by a light fog that grew thicker in the absence of the warm sun. Boulan idly wondered if there was a way to capture some of the moisture for consumption while he waited for daybreak.
  107. “Ooooo…”
  109. Boulan frantically shifted into a more defensible position. His heart hammered against his ribs as adrenaline coursed through his veins. Cursing his clumsiness, he realized that the shaking of the tree branches would have given away his position if the enemy hadn’t spotted him yet. It may not even BE an enemy. For all he knew it could be an owl. It sounded like some sort of bird. The tension slowly abated as the more rational parts of Boulan’s brain soothed him.
  111. The loud sloshing of water from underneath him made him gasp in surprise. From his vantage point he could see small waves lap against the base of the tree. Whatever had made the noise was huge.
  113. “Oooo…”
  115. The strange cooing noise came again, but closer this time. Boulan drew his knife and clenched a tree branch with his free hand. It wasn’t the fear he hated, it was the ambiguity of the threat; the fact that he didn’t have a foe to face down that both scared and enraged him.
  117. From behind the thin veil of fog, two glowing eyes slowly slid towards him across the surface of the water and he immediately regretted his wish for a more tangible enemy. The thing moves slowly towards him, and he could hear its excited panting churning out hot breath as it closed in on him. There was no way Boulan could hide from the monster; it had already seen him. The luminous orbs remained fixed on him as it approached.
  119. By the time the mass had reached the base of the tree, Boulan could see a rough outline of what his killer looked like. It was a long, fish creature with some sort of twisted beak for a head. He couldn’t make out anything besides the silhouette of the monster, and was grateful that he would at least be spared the horror of seeing its hideous body in a better light.
  121. “OOOOOO”
  123. The creature let out a resounding moan. Its breathing was short and shallow. Between the howls it made, it emitted a series of excited whines. Boulan shivered in fear upon seeing how impatient the beast was to tear into his flesh.
  125. It circled the tree once, twice, three times before it paused under him again. There was a loud sloshing as it shifted around just under the water. Boulan leaned over in morbid curiosity to get a better look at what it was doing.
  127. A wall of white rushed up towards him and Boulan screamed. He slashed at the thing with all his might, only to find that he was defending himself from a sheet of cloth. His relief was only momentary, as the thrashing had shaken him off balance. With a shriek, he toppled off the branch that had supported him for the better part of a day and into the cold water below.
  129. Boulan rose to the surface and continued to scream. He knew that he was doomed; screaming was the only thing he could do. Swimming and wading back to the tree, he pressed his back against the trunk and readied himself for the end.
  131. “OOOOO”
  133. The howling coo was louder than ever. Boulan turned towards the direction of the sound and saw the glowing eyes several yards away. Apparently, his fall had startled the beast.
  135. The beast bobbed and shifted its head, trying to get a better look at him. Boulan’s screams subsided as exhaustion and resignation to his fate overcame his ineffectual cries.
  137. The monster slithered forwards through the water, and Boulan saw it clearly for the first time. A long, winding body coated with fur trailed behind a human-shaped torso with two fluffy paws. From the ample breasts on her chest, Boulan surmised that whatever it was, it was certainly female. The creature had a strange beak for a head, with two floppy ears poking up from the top of its head. It rose out of the water, standing above him. Swamp water ran off its coat. Boulan shut his eyes and waited for death.
  139. “… You dropped it…”
  141. He opened his eyes in sock. Instead of some guttural howl, or gurgling groan, the creature had a soft and feminine voice. The figure was holding out the piece of cloth from before. When Boulan made no motion to grab it, the thing held it closer to him.
  143. “P-please… take.” The creature mumbled. It was so quiet that Boulan could barely hear it. The fluffy paws holding the sheet were trembling and the creature was avoiding his eyes.
  145. What the hell was this thing?
  147. Boulan turned around and tried to climb back into the tree. Whatever it was, he could figure it out from a safer place. Even if this was some sort of friendly swamp spirit, there were other things lurking in the water. As he reached for the first branch, the monster’s tail wrapped around him.
  149. “No! No more tree! Please! J-j-j…”
  151. The thing began to sputter and whine as it failed miserably to articulate itself. Boulan pounded against the cord of muscle and fluff but was unable to free himself. The torso of the beast worked to try and stuff him into the sheet as he flailed against it with his remaining strength.
  153. His impotent blows continued until he heard a soft sobbing from behind him. Shoving the cloth off of himself and into the water, Boulan gasped for air as he rested in her coils. The fur was surprisingly soft now that he had a moment to run his hands over it. It was also perfectly dry, despite being partially submerged. He had no time to give much considerations to the textural properties of his aggressor; he was just curious as to how he had wounded the thing. With how well it was keeping him restrained, there was little chance that he could have bruised the tail. And he certainly couldn’t have cut the thing with his bare hands. So why was it crying?
  155. “S-stoooopp” whined the creature, punctuating her plea with a tiny hiccup and a sniffle.
  157. “Let me go!” Wheezed Boulan.
  159. “But you’re cold. Please, take it. I don’t understand why you won’t...” said the bird-snake. It scooped the fabric out of the water and draped it over Boulan’s head.
  161. Feeling the cloth envelop him, Boulan realized that the silkiness of the blanket was exactly the same as the beast’s fur.
  163. “Is this… made out of your fur?” he asked incredulously.
  165. The thing began to shiver and shake, covering its eyes with its paws.
  167. Boulan was at a loss. Any semblance of natural order between man and monster had been thrown out the window. A giant, hairy bird-snake had just knocked him out of a tree in the middle of a swamp to give him a blanket made of its own fur because it thought he looked cold. Now it was crying because he had hit it and was rudely refusing its gift. Maybe he WAS already dead and this was some weird afterlife.
  169. “What ARE you?” wondered Boulan aloud.
  171. “OOOOO!”
  173. The monster lurched away from the tree and began slithering through the water, dragging Boulan with it. He tried to shout, but his head was dragged under the water. For what felt like an hour, Boulan gasped and sputtered, trying to keep his head above the water as the she-beast charged forwards. At last, she stopped at a small timber shack built on stilts over the murk. Slithering up a wide ramp onto a dock attached to the house, she uncoiled from Boulan and turned to face him.
  175. Boulan coughed up a lungful of swamp water and sprawled out on the dock. Normally he would be using some choice words with the thing, but a day with no sleep, food, or water had taken its toll on him. The serpent gingerly picked him up and carried him through the rickety door.
  177. The interior of the shack was too dark to see in. Boulan groaned in relief as the monster eased him into what he recognized as a hammock. Sleep overtook him before the monster could even throw the blanket over him.
  179. ~~~~~~~
  181. Boulan’s nose twitched as it alerted him to the smell of food being cooked nearby. Opening his eyes, he was confused to see crisscrossing beams of a shack roof, with dozens of plants and lanterns hanging off of them. He lay in the hammock for a moment trying to recall where he was and how he got there.
  183. “Aboo…”
  185. Boulan remembered the circumstances of his arrival at the same time that the thing made a soft noise. He tore off the blanket and tried to climb out of the hammock. The snake woman was standing, (if propping herself up with her tail could be considered standing), at a tiny stove cooking some fish fillets in a pan. Hearing Boulan wake, she turned to face him.
  187.     Boulan nearly fell back into the hammock upon seeing the monster in a better light. The beak he had seen in the murky night before had slid down to her neck, revealing her real face. It was a sharp, mature face, with serious eyes. The yellow sclera seemed to glow, giving her a frightening aura. Her pale fur was interrupted by the grey-brown skin of her human half. Living in the swamp had left her lean and muscular from the constant swimming and pescatarian diet. Sweat rolled down her well-defined abs as she tended to the stove.
  188. Seeing Boulan rise, she let out a little yelp and moved to cover her face with the mask. While she was bringing her arms up, she knocked a glass jar off a shelf and frantically dove to catch it. The commotion made her bump a different jar off a counter with her tail. She bobbled the first jar before making a pathetic attempt to catch the second one, ultimately failing to save either from breaking on the ground and spilling their contents over the floor. Her ears drooped and she began to cry.
  190. As much as he wanted to believe his Order training, his instincts just couldn’t muster the jitters to be fearful of this thing. Looking at the fluffy woman crying softly as she picked up the pieces of glass, her mask hanging at an odd angle off her face, Boulan felt more pity than anything. If she had wanted to kill him, she could have done so already. Taking him home and giving him shelter was by no measure a monstrous act.
  192. “Do you have water?” croaked Boulan. He was a bit nervous pushing his luck, but he was desperate for a drink and some food.
  194.     The serpent perked up and carefully placed the glass shards in a separate jar. Slithering over, she pulled a hanging gourd off of one of the rafters and handed it to Boulan. She made sure to keep her distance and avoid all eye contact. Boulan greedily drained the gourd and wiped his mouth. With a bit of water in his system, his mouth began to water at the prospect of a hot meal. The woman slid back over to the stove and pulled the fish off. She plated the filets and set them down at either side of a small table in the center of the shack. Moving over to Boulan she awkwardly tried to assist him out, but resorted to making strange gestures in the air when she found Boulan didn’t need any help getting out of the hammock.
  196. The table had only one chair, and a sort of perch for the woman. It resembled a cross of wood; she coiled around the center and rested herself on the cross bar. Boulan took a seat and began to tear into a fillet.
  198. It wasn’t until he was halfway into the second slab of fish that he remembered his manners. Realizing that he was covered in oils and eating like a barbarian, Boulan wiped his mouth and looked at his host. She hadn’t touched her own food. As his eyes met hers, she looked down at her own plate.
  200. “… Do you like it?” she asked.
  202. “Yes, it’s very good... Thank you.” Said Boulan. He meant it too. The seasoning was perfect. Unlike anything he had ever had before, the blend of spices and herbs she used gave the fish a fantastic, lightly-spicy taste that didn’t overwhelm the delicate flavor of the fish.
  204. The woman’s tail wiggled at his praise, and she let out a soft ‘aboo’ noise.
  206. “If you don’t mind me asking…” said Boulan. “Why are you doing this? I don’t understand why a monster would help me…”
  208. “I thought you looked sad.”
  210. The irony caused a twang of guilt in Boulan’s heart. He had been sent into this swamp to purge things like this, and this poor klutz had saved him for not other reason than compassion and concern for his well-being. A furry snake had shown more empathy than most humans did in his own town.
  212. “Are you alright?” asked the woman nervously.
  214. “Yes, yes. I’m fine. Thank you, for… everything. I think I would have died out there if it weren’t for you.” Said Boulan. “Err, what’s your name?”
  216. “I-I’m Agkist.” She said.
  218. “Agkist…” said Boulan. She wiggled happily hearing her name. “And if you don’t mind me asking, what are you exactly? I’ve never heard of anything like you…”
  220. “I’m a bunyip.” Said Agkist.
  222. “A bunyip?” said Boulan.
  224. “Yes. Most of us aren’t very social…” she said.
  226. “I didn’t think any monsters were social.” Said Boulan.
  228. “They are. But most of them interact with their own species, or their husbands.”
  230. “Husbands?” said Boulan.
  232. “Yes. Men they seduce or capture.” Said Agkist.
  234. “Do all monsters do that?”
  236. “I think so.”
  238. “Then my squad…”
  240. “They’re probably with their wives.”
  242. Boulan sank back into his chair. So they were alive?
  244. “You say husbands, but you really mean slaves, right? Or food?” he said.
  246. Agkist shook her head, her fluffy ears flopping wildly. “No! Monsters don’t do that. Treat men badly, I mean. They care too much.”
  247. The last phrase triggered a realization in Boulan’s head. Care. Too much. Husbands. Monsters.
  249. “Does that mean I’m your husband?!” shouted Boulan.
  251. The bunyip’s face turned a dark purple, in what was obviously a blush.
  253. “No! I-I mean, I guess not! But, please do, aboo! I mean, my husband that is, you! You can go if you really want to. I-I…” She took a deep, rattling breath. “I just don’t want to be lonely anymore.”
  255. Agkist started to cry again while emitting a high-pitched ‘eeeee.’ Boulan stood up from the table sending the chair toppling backwards. He slowly backed away from her. Agkist made no move to attack him, choosing instead to cower and sniffle.
  257. “I want to go home, Agkist.” Said Boulan flatly.
  259. Agkist wilted, curling up into a ball on the floor.
  261. Boulan watched in discomfort as she began to sob into her tail.
  263. “You won’t make me feel sorry for you…” said Boulan.
  265. “What’s that sound?”
  267. “I think it’s coming from Agkist’s house.”
  269. Boulan whipped around to see the bug girls from the night before hovering at a window. Two of them were supporting Kutno’s arms, while he cradled the third in his arms. The man and his trio of wives looked on in disgust as the bunyip continued her breakdown.
  271. “Oh wow, he made her cry.”
  273. “Look! She even made him dinner and everything.”
  275. “Yeah, that’s Boulan.” Said Kutno. “He’s kind of a dick.”
  277. “I can tell. Aww, that’s so sad. We’ll have to swing by later and cheer her up.”
  279. “Tsk. Some men just have not tact.”
  281. They flew away talking about how Kutno was such a gentlemen and how they were so happy that they chose him instead of “that bastard back there.”
  283. “… I’m not a dick…” mumbled Boulan.
  285. Agkist slowly uncurled and slowly slithered to the door with slumped shoulders. She pushed it open and turned back to face Boulan.
  287. “If you want to go, aboo, we should leave while there’s still light.” She said.
  289. Boulan walked out onto the porch while Agkist slithered down the ramp to the jetty. He followed behind her, wondering if she was really going to let him leave so easily.
  291. Before he could reach the bottom, his foot slid on the wet wood, sending him forwards. Agkist reacted with serpentine agility, twisting her body around to catch him. His head landed squarely in her plush cleavage, in the particularly fluffy bit of fur between her breasts. Boulan let out a soft gasp, marveling at how soft the fur really was. Agkist’s arms closed around him.
  293. “OOOOOO, are you okay, aboo?!” said Agkist.
  295.     Boulan looked up at her past the mask, into her glowing yellow eyes. Eyes full of concern for a person she had only just met, who had rudely rejected her hospitality, questioned her character, and who had arrived in this swamp to kill her. Her muscular limbs slowly undulated unconsciously around him, squeezing and relaxing in time with her panicked breaths. Her warm fur rubbed over his sore muscles and ragged skin, more pleasant than any breeze in the world.
  297. “Yeah… thank you.” Said Boulan. Without thinking, Boulan closed his eyes and pressed his head deeper into the canyon of fluff.
  299. Agkist wrapped her tail around Boulan’s body and moved one of her hands up to his head. Her colossal paw was almost large enough to palm his scalp. She slowly stroked his hair, making the coo that Boulan had come to love in the short time he had been with her. He felt no fear even as her muscular coils ensnared him.
  301.     As he listened to Agkist’s heart hammer against her ribs, he thought about what awaited him if he returned. A bit of back pay, but then he would be shipped back to the front lines. Hunting monsters like Agkist who may just be lonely. The whole reason he had been saving money in the first place was to get a house, attract a wife and start a family. Wasn’t that what was being offered to him right now?
  303. Boulan wrapped his own arms around Agkist, stroking her back.
  305. “Aboo?”
  307. “Agkist… I uhh, I think I’d actually like to stay here…”
  309. Agkist paused for a moment, cocking her head in confusion. When she realized the implications of Boulan’s statement, her faced flushed.
  311. “You mean…?”
  313. “I’ve been lonely too, and I think that it would be foolish to dismiss someone who cares about me so much.” He said with a smile.
  315. Agkist was silent.
  317. “Agkist…?”
  319. The bunyip began hyperventilating and looking around the swamp in confusion. Her ‘aboos’ were replaced with the high-pitched ‘eeeeeee’ like some sort of fluffy teakettle. She looked at Boulan again and he realized he may have broke the poor thing. For an instant, he could have sworn her pupils were replaced with swirls.
  321. “Agkist?!” repeated Boulan. He tried to push away, but she was too strong.
  323. Without a word, she launched into the shack and threw him across the entirely of the interior onto the massive hammock. Boulan didn’t even have time to scream before she pounced on him, but she was screaming loud enough for both of them.
  325. ~~~~~~~~
  327. “I’msorry I’msorry I’msorry I’msorry...”
  329. “That’s… okay, Agkist.” Said Boulan staring up into the rafters.
  331. Agkist was laying on his heaving chest, while he played with her ears. The short fur on the interior was softer than anywhere else on her body, a fact he was sure of after having become so familiar with it.
  333. “Please don’t leave, please don’t be mad, aboo.” Said Agkist softly.
  335. “I… am ANYTHING but mad.” Said Boulan.
  337. Fuck the Order. Fuck the Chief God. Fuck human civilization in general. No wonder the demons were winning; a day of afternoon delights with a fluffy snake was more than enough to make Boulan shrug any regrets he may have had about leaving everything he had ever known behind.
  339. Agkist squirmed out of his grasp and slid up in the hammock. She grabbed Boulan and pressed him into her chest. Coiling around him and resting her head on his, she took a deep inhale of his hair and sighed contentedly.
  341. “Hey Agkist, tomorrow, can you teach me how to prepare fish?”
  343. The tip of her tail waggled happily, tickling his feet. Boulan squeezed her back, and craned his head back for a kiss.
  345. “Yes.”
  347. Boulan yawned as Agkist reached up to snuff an oil lamp, shrouding the single room in darkness. The blanket lay unused on a pile of crates next to the hammock; there was no need for it now that they had each other to keep themselves warm.
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