Wile E. Coyote: The Way It Should Be

WILE E. COYOTE: THE WAY IT SHOULD BE By C.

In the western mesa-lands of Mythica, there lives a clever, shrewd, indeed wily Coyote. He has lived long and fairly well by using his wits--plus products generously donated by the Acme Company, for which he is principal spokesbeast.

He'll eat almost anything, but his favorite food is female roadrunner. In Mythica, this is not the scrawny, ill-tempered bird that you and I know in the land of Dismal-Realia. Here, she is a beautiful, cinnamon-skinned woman with full breasts, hips, thighs, and tummy--and an ample bottom. Her legs are the best kind: big and very long. Instead of hair, her head sports a crest of white feathers that reach down her back. Her rear is framed by a lovely feather-fan of the same color. In front she has a pubic patch of the softest white down. She is entirely naked, except for a pair of magic silver high heels, which are fused to her feet and make her the fastest creature in Mythica. Instead of a harsh squawk, her voice is soft and seductively musical, especially when she is caught and begging for her life. Many a seasoned hunter has let her go at the last moment, and she knows she has a chance almost to the end. You can see, I hope, why Coyote loves her so.

One day, Coyote was resting in a gulch not far from Route 666, when he lifted his nose and caught the delicate scent of not one, but three roadrunner slits. He fixed coordinates and determined that they were coming down the road from the north. They were taking their time, which was good news for Coyote, because he knew he could never catch them in full flight. He crept up to a boulder adjoining the highway and sniffed again. These ladies are looking to be bedded, he thought . Pity I'm the only male in these parts. Another whiff determined that one was older than the other two and leading the way by a short distance. The younger ones had the faint, barely detectable scent of unbroken cunt. Coyote shuddered with anticipatory pleasure.

It wasn't long before they came into view: a maturely beautiful roadrunner hen and what were obviously her daughters, just arrived at the ripeness of lovely adulthood. Looking for love in all the wrong places , thought Coyote, and got ready to pounce. Closer, closer, and . . . now! He shot out from behind the boulder and bore down on them. Being this close, surely he'd bag one.

When they saw him, they gave little gasps of dismay and zoomed off in the opposite direction. Never had he seen roadrunners react so fast. He came within six feet of them, and then they were gone. All he could do was stare at their quickly receding tail fans and choke on the sand kicked up by their glimmering heels. Looking at them speed out into the desert, he decided that he wanted, and would capture, all three.

Four more times he set an ambush for them. Once, he came within inches of bringing down one of the daughters. But they were always too fast. Always they left him gasping and wheezing in the dust.

But that was all right. He was learning a lot about them. Blessed with incredible speed, even for roadrunners, they were confident and careless. Instead of scattering, they always stayed in a close group, no matter what. The direction they took was always the exact opposite of his line of attack. And they never zigzagged, but relied solely (and with some justification) on their speed. Thus it was easy to predict where they would go in the next several seconds after he jumped out at them. For Coyote, this ease of prediction meant that all three would be turning up their toes before much longer.

Coyote now got in touch with the Acme Company and rush-ordered their Combination Ice Rink and Desert Hologram. He installed this on the eastern side of a nice open stretch of Route 666. He then switched on the hologram and was very impressed: it looked just like real desert. He now got out a vial of honey-scented roadrunner spunk, which he'd taken from the last boy he'd bagged. "You'll finally get some girls," he said, "but not in quite the way you hoped." He smeared the liquid over a five-foot square space of road, about midway along the hologram. Then he buried himself in the sand along the western side of the road, right next to the spunk-salted patch. He was now using his patented Acme Sand-Snorkel-and-Periscope to keep in touch with the world above.

After a few hours, a routine sweep with the periscope confirmed that the lovely trio were coming up 666 from the south. They entered the five-foot square space and began sniffing the air. Coyote could hear the mother's clear, musical voice: "He's been here, but where is he now?"

Then came a higher voice: "Oh momma, if this goes on much longer, I'm gonna burst . . . . I don't think I could get any more juicy."

"Patience, sweeties," said Momma. "I've a feeling our luck's about to change. In fact, I bet you we'll all be on our backs before sundown."

"You really think so?" asked the other girl.

"You know those feelings I get," said Momma. "I'm just about sure of it."

Coyote wanted them as relaxed as possible. He waited until he heard a few trills of their tinkling laughter, and then he emerged from his hiding place.

When they saw him, true to form they turned tail feathers and darted out onto what looked like an expanse of sand. But it only looked like sand. In fact, it was ice, which gave no purchase to their magic pumps. Their feet shot out from beneath them and they landed, hard, on their rears. They struggled to get up and fell yet again. Coyote, who could run on ice, was now upon them, and they shrieked again and again as his terrible teeth found their breasts, their bottoms, their bellies--and, best of all, their damp, quivering cunts.

It wasn't long before the venom in his teeth subdued them. All they could do now was kick to no purpose and, of course, cry, cry, cry with the shock, pain, and shame of their capture. Now that he was sure they were his, he took hold of their crests and pulled them wailing back to the side of the road, where he lined them up, groin next to groin, with Momma in the middle. "Your magic slippers won't take you home this time," said Coyote.

After a while, Momma composed herself with some difficulty and spoke. (As she talked, her daughters looked on with agonized expectation.) "Oh wise and wily hunter," she said in her most mellifluous voice, "you sure bagged us poor babes."

"Ma'am," said Coyote, remaining wily and wary, "I'm sort of busy, so unless you have something really important to tell me, I'd like to get on with lunch, if you know what I mean."

"Of course, oh great and glorious victor in today's contest. I'm just trying to bring to your attention that you've caught three magical beings."

"Everyone in this country is magical," said Coyote. He knew where this was headed.

"To be sure, clever one, but can everyone give you three wishes?"

"Wishes?" said Coyote. "What sort of wishes would these be?"

"Anything you like, oh peerless predator," said Momma, smiling her most winning smile. "Say, for example, that you wanted an unlimited food supply . . . we can do that."

"Sounds good. What would I have to do in return?"

"Just let us go," said Momma, beaming brilliantly. Her daughters beamed, too.

"Oh darnitall!" said Coyote. "I can't do that."

"Can't . . . can't . . . why not?" (Momma's smile and those of her daughters vanished as quickly as they'd appeared.)

"Because then I'd be the biggest fool in the desert, and pretty obviously I'm not."

At this the two girls began to cry all over again, until their mother gently but firmly hushed them.

"Oh dear," said Momma after she'd calmed them down. "Oh dear. I guess I'd better try a new tack. I was hoping to save us all, but well . . . . It's like this, Mr. Coyote. We've been looking for a nice dominant male to take us in and, well, take us. Now I've had a full life . . . I've kicked up my heels, you might say. But my girls . . . they've never been bedded. Could you please let them go and . . . and be satisfied . . . with me?"

"Oh you poor things," said Coyote. "You really have come to the wrong place. I don = t know whether he was dominant or not, but I caught the last roadrunner male in these parts about six months ago. He cried just like one of you when I nipped his pouch. I used the last of his love-honey for my bait today." (When he said this, his three victims groaned with dismay.) "Now I'd like to grant such a noble, selfless request . . . but I can't. I mean, look at me: I'm skin and bones as it is. I don't stay alive by tossing back what I catch. I'm afraid you're all keepers." (He thought, but didn't say, that if he picked and chose today, he was definitely keeping tight-pussies one and two.)

The two girls began their wailing once again. "Momma! Momma!" cried one of them. "What's all this about? Make him let us go!"

"Oh my dears, my sweet dears," said Momma, yielding at last to despair. "It's time to be brave. We blew it; we got caught with our pants down, and now it's over."

"Momma," said the other girl, "we don't wear pants!"

"Stop being so literal-minded! What I'm saying is: I can't make this gentleman do anything. We're done for!"

Her daughters were a little dim, but at last it sank in. "Oh God, God, God, we're really done for!" they cried. "We're caught! We're bagged! Our pretty feathers! Our pretty pussies! Oh it hurts to be caught, oh God it hurts, it hurts, it hurts! Momma it hurts!"

"Yes dears, it certainly does," said Momma through her tears. "My pussy's been poached the same as yours; it hurts like a bitch."

Coyote let them go on for a while. Then it was time to finish this part of the game. "It's not as bad as all that," he said. "I can give you a lot of what you came here for." As he said this, his

tongue began to extend and stiffen, while the captured women looked on in wide-eyed fright. "Thath mush bether," he said, and then he went to work.

The screams and wails before were nothing compared to now. His tongue was longer, thicker, and stiffer than anything a male roadrunner could offer. He started with the girls, and though he didn't try to be cruel, the sand beneath their bottoms was soaked with blood before he finished. They kicked madly, but he held their thighs back against their stomachs, so that the only thing their sharp heels cut was air. Soon the venom did its merciful magic, and to their pain was joined a pleasure like nothing they'd ever before experienced. They groaned with a terrible ecstasy, as orgasm after orgasm shook their bodies. When they at last died, their mother was ready to play her part. She bled and shrieked less than her virgin daughters; but, if anything, she kicked even harder when the tremors of pleasure began.

At last it was over. Coyote surveyed his work. The three women were open-eyed, staring at nothing. The downy patches on their fronts were now scarlet. The hot sun glinted off their silver heels.

"I wish I could bring you back," said Coyote. "Of course, I'd just kill you all over again. Well, time to eat."

With these words, his jaws opened, wider and wider, till he could now swallow them whole. (Remember, he's a Mythic Coyote!) The only hold-up was their well-padded hips, but with a little work he got past these.

"Delicious," he said, then found a shady place to take his nap.

THE END