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Part II
"A careful predator will take pains to secure his prey . . . ."
When Misty came to, she had no idea how long she'd been out. She was lying on her back next to her three younger companions. Her left breast was stinging. When she tried to move, she realized that her wrists were bound beneath her. "He doesn't take any chances," she said to herself. Groaning, the three younger girls awoke shortly after she did.
"W-what happened?" Barbi asked.
"We were caught," said Misty. "By Coyote." (At this news, the others gasped in horror.) "The mice–that was just a trick . . . to get our guard down. Needless to say . . . it worked."
"W-what's going to happen to us?" asked Buffy.
"What do you think is going to happen?" snapped Misty. "Honestly, if you three aren't the dumbest crinolinas I've ever met . . . ."
"You don't have to be nasty about it!" said Bonnie. "Why don't we put our heads together and think . . . think of a way out?"
"Right!" said Barbi and Buffy together.
"Good lord," said Misty. "You really are as clueless as you sound. For you three, there is no way out. I might have a chance, but if I do, it's a ticket good for only one."
"What do you mean?" said Bonnie.
"It won't do you any good, so you don't need to know about it."
"You are such a bitch!" shouted Barbi. "Screw her–let's use our heads, girls. We've always been able to lead Merovech, Chlodovech, and Guthlac by their noses. How much harder can one old Coyote be?"
"Right!" said the other two.
"Heaven help us," said Misty.
Just then, Coyote reappeared. "I couldn't stay away!" he said as he shrugged off a knapsack and placed it on the ground.
"Uh . . . uh . . . hi," said Barbi. "Gee, you sure . . . got the drop on us."
"I did at that," said Coyote with a smirk.
"You know," she said, "You're very handsome . . . for a coyote."
"Why, thank you."
"M-maybe we could . . . come to an arrangement . . . ."
"Arrangement? What do you mean?"
"Well, don't you . . . don't you think we're pretty?"
"I surely do."
"Well, couldn't we maybe . . . have a . . . a relationship?"
"Oh," said Coyote. "I think I see where this is going. If I understand you correctly, that's a nice suggestion–but there are problems."
"P-problems?" said Barbi.
"Yup," said Coyote. "A long-term relationship with fays tends to be short-term–very short-term–for the non-fay. So . . . I'm going to say thanks, but I'll stick with our initial arrangement."
"Initial a-arrangement?" said Barbi.
"You know," he said. "The one where I pull your petticoats back, take your panties down, and kill you."
"Predators have different opinions regarding crinolines. Some find them a bother and a distraction. Others love a leisurely game of slipping them back, one after another, until at last the pretty package they conceal is unwrapped. It's a great way, too, for a predator to get better acquainted with his prey . . . ."
The three girls screamed, and wailed, and pleaded for their lives, of course, but it made no difference; on this subject, Coyote was adamant. He started with Barbi. First, he drew her big blue skirt past her waist, as far as it would go (its hem reached her chin). Then, slowly, patiently, he pulled her crinolines in the same direction, one by one. As he did so, he hummed a little tune. Crying all the while, Barbi twisted and kicked, but, weakened by the heady mix of Sleepy Powder and Coyote venom, she accomplished nothing. More than once, her crinolines fell back into place, and Coyote started all over again. Once, he got his snout tangled in them and started to sneeze. Barbi, Buffy, and Bonnie all shrieked in response.
"It's not the sneezing that's going to kill you," Misty said under her breath.
After about fifteen minutes, Barbi cried out: "Enough! Enough already! Just get it over with!"
"Very well," said Coyote and yanked back her crinolines all at once. Now all that protected her from her captor was a pair of white panties, dotted with little bluebells. Barbi and her friends sobbed even louder now; Misty turned her head away.
"Never mind!" cried Barbi through her tears. "I can wait! Really . . . really."
"Ahhh," said Coyote. "So can I." He returned the crinolines to their proper place and started over.
"Then down come her panties. Expect the tears and begging to intensify. Remember that you must be firm . . . . "
How long it took was impossible to say, but at last he pulled back the final crinoline and gently flattened it out on top of the others.
Barbi was beside herself: "Please don't take my panties down," she whimpered. " . . . oh please, please, please, please, please!"
"But I want to have my fay and eat her, too," said Coyote. So he gripped the girl's underpants in front and drew them down her violently trembling legs. Soon they lay in a little heap next to her feet. Then, gently but firmly, he pulled her legs apart. Beneath its V of damp blond hair, her snatch was pink and very tight. When Coyote saw it, his big Mythican tongue grew long and stiff. It had a sharp tip and was rough to the touch, like a cat's tongue. Confronted with this appendage, Barbi screamed with even more gusto than before. "No!" she wailed. "It won't fit! It won't fit!"
"It alwayth hath before," said Coyote as he slipped it in.
Once again, Misty turned her head away. But there was no escaping Barbi's pain-filled squeals, or the anticipatory shrieks of her two friends. "Oh, what the hell," she said. It might well happen to her–she preferred to know exactly what she was in for. She turned back, just in time to see Coyote draw his tongue–now slick with blood–from Barbi's pussy. He then started nipping. "Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!" cried the luckless girl as her snatch was assailed. Then he worked the tongue back in; Barbi gave a surprisingly deep groan when this happened.
It went on like this for the next several minutes. Mostly Barbi cried; but in one interval between tongue and teeth, she spoke. "It . . . it was g-going to be all right. M-Merovech was g-going to meet me at the dance. I was . . . I was going to let him have his way tonight. H-he'd think he'd g-gotten me, but . . . I'd have him! Do you understand? I'd have him! H-he'd have to stay with me till my . . . my belly swelled, till my eggs were ready. Then he'd . . . have to give himself to . . . to a predator. That's our law! He'd have been all mine! All mine! We'd go out . . . every night and . . . seduce some stupid humans into killing themselves. They'd die . . . not me! Not me! It isn't fair!"
"Sucks to be you," said Coyote, then nipped her once more. "Ouch! Ouch!" she replied.
At last, her final tremors began: she thrashed, bucked, kicked, and moaned with the strange, hurtful pleasure that Coyote brought to all his victims. And then she was through. "One down, three to go," he said.
Buffy was next. Coyote had evidently tired of the crinoline game: he thrust her petty back with little ceremony. "Not so soon! Not so soon!" she shrieked as her panties–white with red hearts–were bared. Down they came, exposing a little brunette muff; and soon, like Barbi before her, Buffy was groaning and crying "Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!" It wasn't long before another pretty pussy had given up the ghost.
Then came Bonnie's turn. Her panties were pink. Her muff was bright red. She groaned and died just like her friends.
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