Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here
While Lemon Zest greatly enjoyed her relationship with Sugarcoat, there were times when she definitely didn't feel sexy. Sure, Sugarcoat invited her to the cabin in the woods she’d inherited from her grandma for a weekend full of depravity, but Lemon didn’t expect that she’d start it on a bedroom floor, standing on all fours with a nozzle up her ass.
“Is it necessary?” Lemon asked, feeling the lukewarm solution pouring up her butt.
“No, but tell that to Fleur,” Sugarcoat replied. “She’s scared of germs. Or maybe Germans, I never know.”
“Why did you even invite her?” Lemon clenched her teeth and a moan escaped her lips.
“Because I’m not selfish.” Sugarcoat smirked and patted Lemon’s head. “I like to share my fucktoys. You’re okay with that, right?”
“Yeah,” Lemon replied, looking back at Sugarcoat. “Are we done with this?”
“Almost,” Sugarcoat said. “You like girldick up your ass, don’t you?”
“I like any dick up my ass, but most people who fucked my ass weren’t worried about germs,” Lemon replied. “Also, isn’t it like, girldick implies the existence of a boydick?”
Sugarcoat walked in front of Lemon and smacked her face. “Stop repeating those dumb tranny memes. And before you ask, I can say that because I’m one myself.” She shrugged. “I wonder if a terrible sense of humor is a side effect of titty skittles.”
“Nah, yours was pretty terrible even before the titty skittles,” Lemon replied, earning another smack.
“I didn’t ask for your opinion.” Sugarcoat shook her head. “Also, why can’t I just make you a proper bottom?”
“Because they’re boring?” Lemon chuckled. “I don’t want to be a proper bottom just for you to leave me. I’d have to get a therapist.”
“You’d fucking blow your therapist during the first session.” Sugarcoat yanked the tube of the enema kit out of Lemon’s butt and pulled up a DryNite dangling around Lemon’s ankles. “The nearest bathroom is downstairs, third door on the left. With how much of this stuff I pumped into your ass, you should probably manage to get there, if you hurry. If the diaper overflows, I’ll wipe the floor with your hair. The game is on.”
For a moment, Lemon just stood there, listening to the unsettling noises coming out of her stomach. Then she gasped and ran out of the room, her boobs jiggling in a way that made Sugarcoat feel an erection pressing against the fabric of her boxers. She pulled them down, listening to frantic steps as Lemon descended down the stairs.
Sugarcoat grabbed her dick with her hand and rubbed it with her fingers a few times. Suddenly, she heard Lemon’s steps stopping abruptly, followed by a loud “oh shit!”.
“Really.” Sugarcoat shook her head and picked up her pace, bucking her hips as she kept jerking herself off.
“I’m good, it didn’t leak!” Lemon exclaimed. “Oh, not good! It’s not all!” She screamed and started to run again.
“Like I’d really do it.” Sugarcoat moaned, throwing her head back as the tingling in her balls turned into a continuous flow of pleasure. She gasped, looking down at the spurts of her cum forming an interesting pattern on the bedsheet. It was almost transparent and Sugarcoat felt the volume wasn’t what it used to be, but it still made her feel better, knowing that she could still leave her mark wherever she wanted. She took a few deep breaths, the last throes of the orgasm rocking her body slowly dying down. “You okay there?”
“I made it!” Lemon exclaimed. “Kinda.”
“You almost didn’t shit yourself, huh?” Sugarcoat rolled her eyes. “Take a shower or something and get yourself dressed.”
***
Lemon ended up choosing what she called casual BDSM style – something she could technically wear in the street without Sugarcoat being arrested for, for example, walking her on a leash, but if she wanted, Sugarcoat could still cause her some pain.
A black, leather choker adorned her neck. She wore a tight, black t-shirt, the outline of her nipples clearly visible under the fabric. She’d had them pierced recently and they were still a bit sore but she didn’t care much about it. If anything, the pain only made her more horny.
She looked down at a skirt so short that it barely deserved this name; whenever Lemon walked, she’d reveal her skimpy green thong, which didn’t even pretend to cover a large buttplug Sugarcoat had shoved up her ass once Lemon was done with the shower. A pair of knee-length socks and Mary Janes complemented her outfit.
“You look like a teen who goes to a metal concert to get raped by the band.” Sugarcoat walked into the room she occasionally called her piano lounge. There was indeed a piano there; several photos stood on it, one of them depicting an older woman sitting at the piano with a young boy. The woman looked a bit like Sugarcoat; Lemon once asked about the boy, but Sugarcoat never answered.
Lemon looked at Sugarcoat. She wore a long, blue frilly dress; keeping with her own metaphors, she was definitely going to a classical music concert, but Lemon knew that underneath the dress there was quite a sexy lingerie. Sugarcoat sat at the piano, looking at the keys in, as Lemon realised, exactly the same way as the boy in the photo. She lowered her fingers on the keys and played a few notes of a slow, melancholic melody.
“Nice,” Lemon said. “What is it?”
“Moonlight Sonata,” Sugarcoat replied. “It’s funny because it’s in cis-minor and I’m neither.”
“What?” Lemon asked.
“C-sharp minor.” Sugarcoat rolled her eyes. “It’s a music joke.”
“I don’t get it.”
“This is why you suck my dick and not the other way around.” Sugarcoat played the tune again. “When Fleur comes, don’t talk too much. She doesn’t have to know how stupid you are.”
“Hey!” Lemon exclaimed.
Sugarcoat looked through the window, turned back to Lemon, and whispered, “To be honest, this French fag baguette is dumber than you, but if you let her realize that she’ll kick your ass. Remember when Suri Polomare had a car accident? It wasn’t a car accident, but this version sounded way better for Suri’s parents, Fleur’s parents, and the school.”
“Better than what?” Lemon asked.
“A daughter of a senator dragged out of a sex dungeon by paramedics with a broken nose, missing teeth, and nearly bleeding out from her vagina.” Sugarcoat shrugged. “I think Suri is still recovering in some nice, faraway place.”
Lemon winced. “This weekend just got so much better…”
“Don’t worry, I hid some knives in the bedroom.” Sugarcoat smirked. “If she insists on trying something you’re not okay with, I’ll reassign her gender better than any surgeon.”
Lemon froze. “Hmm, a secluded cabin in the woods and a threesome with a murderous transvestite. Why do I feel like I’m about to get murdered?”
“You won’t,” Sugarcoat replied. “Unless you call Fleur a transvestite since she hates that. Actually, neither her nor me are transvestites, you know. There’s a difference between–”
Lemon rolled her eyes. “I want dick, not the ideology behind it.”
Sugarcoat frowned. “Tonight you’ll get a double dose of ideology. And by ideology I mean whipping.”
“Yay.” Lemon’s eyes lit up.
Sugarcoat sighed. “Actually, if you just wanted dick, you’d be fucking yourself in your room rather than bearing with me and Fleur. What turns you on, perv? Or are we just dudes with tits for you?”
“Whatever,” Lemon said. “Boobs, dicks, toys, whipping… I wouldn’t care much if you brought a horse here.”
Sugarcoat winced, producing a ball gag from somewhere under her dress. “If you won’t shut up, you’ll also get this. The only reason you’re not getting it right now is because Fleur may be amused by your idiocy. It’s so different from her idiocy.”
Right after Sugarcoat said that, they heard the sound of the car engine and the hum of the tires against the dirt road. The car stopped by the cabin. Sugarcoat walked to the door and opened, letting Fleur in.
“Hi, Sugarcoat.” Fleur walked in, looking around the cabin. She was tall and thin, wearing a tight white shirt and khaki pants. “The last thing I expected in these régions arriérées was you dressed like someone who goes to a concert hall to get gangbanged by the orchestra.” She smirked and her gaze landed on Lemon. “Mon Dieu. Where did you get this pouffiasse from? The gutter?”
“Ferme ta putain de gueule,” Sugarcoat replied, rolling her eyes. “You lost the right to judge who I fuck since the fat old guy you fucked made you leave France.”
Fleur furrowed her eyebrows. “It wasn’t just an ordinary fat old guy. He was from the World Bank and I just won the title of Little Miss of seizième.”
“The what?” Lemon asked.
Fleur looked at her and sighed. “The 16th arrondissement of Paris. The richest and the best one.”
Lemon nodded, staring at Fleur’s pants. “Must’ve been nice, given, uhh…”
“Oh, this wasn’t important.” Fleur smirked. “All the other contestants also had dicks.” She leaned closer to Lemon and whispered, “Mine was the biggest.”
“Hard to believe,” Lemon replied, her gaze still focused on Fleur’s pants.
Fleur chuckled. “Oh, that’s because Sugarcoat just flaunts her bitte and gets off to the thought of people noticing it. I prefer to tuck mine.” She turned to Sugarcoat and pointed at Lemon. “Does it pay attention to anything other than dicks?”
“No,” Sugarcoat replied.
“Good,” Fleur said. “We can fuck her brains out and no one will notice the difference.”
“Hey, I’m still here!” Lemon exclaimed. “Also, what about the fat old guy?”
Fleur winced. “Nobody asked you about your opinion. And the fat old rich guy tried to rape me after the contest, but was so surprised by what he found in my panties that he didn’t notice the ice pick.” She shrugged. “I only stabbed him once but he got l’arrêt cardiaque and croaked. I probably wouldn’t go to prison, but my parents decided I should go abroad until the rumors stop.” She smirked again. “God bless America, putain de bordel de merde.”
“Viva la France, motherfucker,” Sugarcoat replied. “I guess your DNA wasn’t an issue?”
“Nah, they’re still looking for someone who looks like they have the Y-chromosome.” Fleur shrugged. “Also, some World Bank secrets were buried with this guy and let’s say most of the guys at his funeral cried of joy.”
“I have to take you to Europe one day,” Sugarcoat said to Lemon. “Fleur, where should we take her? Place Pigalle?”
“Amsterdam,” Fleur replied, patting Lemon’s head. “There are forty-four countries in Europe. Let’s see if we can pimp our little whore to guys from all of them.”
“May be a bit hard with the Vatican…” Lemon said.
“You know nothing, mon cherie.” Fleur shook her head. “They’d be first. Sugarcoat, I’m still thinking of the reasons you became her mistress. Le cul, les seins, la chatte, or is it some sort of a Henry Higgins merde?”
“Nah, she’s just legit into it,” Sugarcoat replied.
Fleur nodded. “Ah, so she’s a tranny chaser?”
Sugarcoat shook her head. “Nah, she’s from Wyoming.”
“I don’t get it,” Fleur said.
“You and me both,” Lemon replied. “What does it have to do with anything?”
“Your idea of a healthy relationship comes from porn.” Sugarcoat rolled her eyes. “Also, people from Wyoming do love their dickgirls. Someone checked the statistics.”
“Now that’s interesting,” Lemon said. “What about France?”
“Whenever I see French porn, someone ends up peeing on their partner.” Sugarcoat shrugged and turned to Fleur. “Is it like a local thing?”
“I don’t know, I prefer flirting and fucking cute girls instead of watching porn.” Fleur looked down at her pants. “But speaking of, I need to pee. Do you have a toilet here or do I have to go on Lemon’s face?”
“Only I can pee on her face,” Sugarcoat replied. “We have a toilet but after Lemon’s last visit it may be a bit nasty. We also have a backyard if you’re feeling adventurous. Lemon in particular seems to like shitting in the woods.”
“Eww…” Fleur winced. “How filthy. You have to teach her how to behave. Maybe I’ll pee on her after all.”
“Hey!” Lemon exclaimed. “You can’t pee down my neck and tell me it’s raining!”
“What?” Fleur asked.
Sugarcoat chuckled. “It’s an idiom. It’s a kind of saying that may not exist in different langu–”
“I know what’s an idiom, you connasse.” Fleur rolled her eyes. “And now, I’ll excuse myself to la toilette.”
“Can I take a look at your dick while you do it?” Lemon asked.
Sugarcoat laughed, much to Fleur’s displeasure. “Well, that’s rich…” she said, patting Lemon’s back. “If she yells something like ‘dicks out for Harambe’, you can smack her for memes deader than the ape.”
“Can’t be worse than my previous boyfriend,” Fleur said. “Sure, he was a big fish in the oil industry and he gave me a lot of money, but hearing ‘Allah akbar’ every time he came in my ass got boring after a while.”
“Also, he was fifty and on the Interpol watchlist.” Sugarcoat rolled her eyes. “Europe does seem fun, to be honest.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You can yell that while cumming in Lemon’s ass. She doesn’t mind.”
“As long as I get to check out your dick,” Lemon said.
“And I want to check out your tits, but I don’t keep yelling about that.” Fleur rolled her eyes and walked across the room. “Okay, I’m gonna take a leak outdoors. If someone wants to see it, follow me.”
Lemon followed Fleur, who rushed towards the back door of the cabin. Sugarcoat groaned and walked across the room as well, muttering something about getting some more comfortable clothes and putting Lemon on a leash.
“Okay.” Fleur walked out of the cabin and looked around the small clearing behind it. “I never did this with an audience, so you’ll be the first.”
“Not that I’m ever going to tell anyone,” Sugarcoat muttered, attaching a leash to Lemon’s choker. “Sit down, Lemon. Don’t suck her off just yet.”
“I wasn’t gonna,” Lemon muttered.
“I’ll get a ball gag if you don’t shut up.”
Fleur unzipped her pants and lowered them a bit, revealing a pair of tucking panties underneath. She then pulled them down, revealing her dick in its entirety. Lemon took a deep breath, but said nothing.
“Are you still getting the bottom surgery?” Sugarcoat asked, feeling blood rushing to her own dick.
“I would already get it, but Hoo’far didn’t want to pay for it. He thought getting it up the ass wasn’t gay as long as I had boobs, so he even paid for the boobjob, but not getting rid of this.”
“Would be a shame,” Lemon muttered.
“I’ll get you a cast.” Fleur grabbed her dick and started to pee on the ground right in front of Lemon. “Also, watch out for boobs. The girl I knew in France tried to speedrun them. The progression to C-cup was fine but the D and DD were actually neoplasms.”
“Oof,” Sugarcoat muttered. “What happened to her?”
“They had to cut off her boobs, but leave the dick. Too much risk.” Fleur shook the last drops of piss off her cock and pulled her panties up. “Still, her système immunitaire was all shades of fucked up due to VIH and she died of a yeast infection. And then they buried her as Pierre.”
“Deadnaming a dead guy,” Sugarcoat muttered. “How appropriate.”
“VIH?” Lemon asked.
“Le virus de l'immunodéficience humaine,” Sugarcoat replied. “You’ll get it one day. The French hate English so much that they got the acronym backwards just to spite the rest of the world.”
Lemon’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I got it!”
Fleur winced. “If you got it, I’m not fucking you. What’s the fuck is wrong with you, Sugarcoat?”
“Nah, I mean, I got what you’d said.”
“Right, silly me.” Fleur chuckled. “As a reward, you can suck my dick.”
“Here?” Lemon asked.
“Typical cumslut.” Sugarcoat rolled her eyes. “Someone asks her to suck dick and it’s never yes or no, it’s always ‘here?’”
“Hey, I don’t want to scrap my knees,” Lemon replied.
Fleur laughed, resting her hand against the cottage wall. “She doesn’t want to scrap her knees! Nice. Sure, let’s go inside. I don’t want my couilles to get cold and shrink.”
“They had already shrunk from all those titty skittles you’re taking.” Sugarcoat shook her head. “You’re gonna get fat or kick the bucket due to diabetes.”
Fleur poked her boobs. “All the fat went here, you moron.”
“And some here.” Sugarcoat smacked Fleur’s forehead and smirked. “But enough of this French arguing. We gotta feed my new pet with girldick.”
Fleur muttered something rude in French, but she followed Lemon and Sugarcoat inside the cottage. They went to the living room; it had a fireplace, but since it was warm, the fire was out. There was, however, a large and rather garish carpet in front of it. It provided just enough protection for Lemon’s knees and Sugarcoat also hoped they’d completely ruin it in the process so she could throw it away or, even better, burn it.
“Okay.” Sugarcoat took off her dress. She wore a rather frilly bra as well as a pair of stockings held in place by garters. She also had a pair of matching panties, barely containing her half-erect cock. “You know the safeword, Lemon. If you don’t use it, pretty much anything goes, okay? Also, Fleur, this carpet is even more of a piece of shit than the girl standing on it, so the more bodily fluids we get on it the better.”
“The carpet or it?” Fleur pointed at Lemon, licking her lips. She ripped her bra off, revealing a pair of rather large breasts, and unzipped her pants. “What are you looking at, slut?” she asked Lemon. “You’ve already seen my dysphoria sausage…”
Sugarcoat chuckled. “Dammit, Fleur, is that some French faggot slang or what?” Die Geschlechtdysphorierostbratwurst, du französische Schweine!”
Fleur cowered in fear for a brief moment, but it was enough.
Sugarcoat laughed. “Next time, I’ll have fun with you,” she said. “I’ll yell some German list of ingredients at you and fuck your ass harder than Heinz Guderian fucked your motherland.”
Lemon chuckled. Sugarcoat turned to her and, without a word, punched her in the stomach. Lemon groaned, trying to catch a breath, when Sugarcoat pushed her on her knees. Sugarcoat grabbed her hair and yanked her head backwards, forcing her mouth open. She then lowered her own panties, revealing her dick. Lemon shuddered when Sugarcoat forced her cock into her mouth and started peeing. Fleur held Lemon down when she thrashed, screamed, and choked, Sugarcoat’s urine leaking out on her tits and staining the carpet. Sugarcoat shoved her cock deeper into Lemon’s throat, rapidly growing erection stopping her from emptying her bladder fully. Cursing under her breath, she punched Lemon, giving her a black eye and throwing her to the floor.
“Don’t you ever laugh at us again,” Sugarcoat said when Lemon crawled on her knees, heaving. “Are you gonna puke?”
Lemon took a deep breath, trying to stop the gag reflex, but after a while, she nodded.
“Go for it,” Sugarcoat replied.
Lemon took another deep breath, throwing most of Sugarcoat’s piss up on the carpet. Fleur smirked, looking at her ass.
“Do you need lube?” Sugarcoat asked. “She’s all yours.”
“Yeah.” Fleur threw her pants away and grabbed a bottle of lube. She poured it on her dick and spread it; her cock was now fully erect and, as Lemon had to admit, quite impressive. Fleur poured some more lube on her fingers and, without a warning, shoved them into Lemon’s ass. Lemon gasped, so Fleur smacked her in the back of the head, causing her to land face-first on the dirty carpet.
“Loosen up, cunt,” Fleur said, removing her fingers from Lemon’s anus. “You two need to exercise more,” she whispered to Sugarcoat. “Her ass is almost virgin tight.”
“That’s because it’s usually filthy,” Sugarcoat replied. “You wouldn’t believe just how full of shit she is.”
“We’ll see.” Fleur chuckled, grabbing Lemon’s arms and mounting her. Lemon screamed when Fleur’s cock hit her anus, splitting the muscles apart and filling it whole. Her legs trembled, but Fleur kept pushing, her well-lubed rod going deeper and deeper into Lemon’s bowels.
Finally, Fleur’s balls hit Lemon’s buttcheeks. Lemon dry-heaved, feeling Fleur’s fingernails pierce the skin on her back. She barely had time to get her bearings when Fleur retreated, only to slam her dick back into Lemon, pushing her face into the carpet. Lemon’s muscles squeezed Fleur’s cock as she picked up the pace, her balls slamming into Lemon’s buttocks at a regular rhythm.
Sugarcoat moaned, spreading lube on her own hand and masturbating right in front of Lemon. This was, however, not enough for her; she grabbed Lemon’s hair and yanked her face upwards. Lemon winced, each Fleur’s move filling her with another wave of pain. Sugarcoat smirked and forced Lemon’s mouth open, jamming her cock in it. Lemon moaned and started to suck. The pain in her ass was slowly turning into pleasure, on one hand nearly ripping her apart, but on the other drowning her brain in hormones. Sugarcoat’s cock hit the back of her throat; she choked, licking the lube off of it.
Suddenly, Lemon felt Fleur slowed down. She tried to look back while still sucking Sugarcoat off, but this proved harder than she thought. She could, however, hear some French cursing.
“What’s going on?” Sugarcoat asked.
“I’m getting softer,” Fleur muttered.
Sugarcoat stifled a chuckle. “Hormones?”
“Either her ass isn’t as great as you told me or I’m actually straight,” Fleur replied.
“Your cock will soon rip my ass apart,” Lemon said. “That’s pretty straight, if you ask me.”
Fleur sighed and hit Lemon’s ear, nearly knocking her out. Lemon staggered, nearly dropping on the floor.
“Stop hitting her when she’s sucking my dick,” Sugarcoat said, looking down at her erection. “She may bite it off.” She smirked at Fleur. “Actually, I have an idea. You fuck her ass and I’ll fuck your ass.”
“I like this idea.” Fleur watched as Sugarcoat spread lube on her dick and approached her from behind. Lemon could already feel Fleur getting harder in her ass, her hands clenching on Lemon’s arms and bruising her skin.
Sugarcoat grabbed Fleur’s boobs to get momentum and mounted her from behind, her cock slipping in Fleur’s ass with ease. Lemon trembled when added weight nearly pushed her onto the carpet, covered in her own filth. At the same time, she came, her juices dripping on the floor, adding to the stench filling her nostrils. Fleur rode her mercilessly, yelling at her in French. Lemon’s next orgasm was almost pure pain; blood, precum, piss, and lube were dripping down her legs, her mind blanking out hard, leaving her vision blurry.
With an inhuman hiss, Fleur came. Her huge cock twitched inside Lemon’s anus, filling her with cum until it leaked. Half-erect dick slipped out of Lemon’s ass, stained with cum and a few drops of blood. Still, Sugarcoat kept fucking Fleur’s ass, each thrust of her cock hitting Fleur’s prostate. Almost transparent cum leaked out of Fleur’s dick and at this same moment Sugarcoat came as well.
“Breed me!” Fleur exclaimed, as spurt after spurt of semen filled her ass, overflowing and adding to the absolute mess of bodily fluids on the floor.
“Breed?” Lemon asked. She stood up, rubbing her ass. “I don’t think it works that way.”
Fleur stood up, grabbed Lemon’s neck and pushed her against the wall. She slipped two fingers of the other hand into Lemon’s vagina and looked into her eyes. “For your own good, you should really shut up,” she said. Lemon tried to catch a breath, but Fleur didn’t let her. Her fingers moved quick in Lemon’s pussy, bringing her to another orgasm. Strangled, Lemon barely registered when her nerves bursted in fire, spreading from her vagina to her brain, which was screaming for oxygen.
“Pathetic.” Fleur let go off Lemon’s neck and punched her, this time knocking her unconscious.
***
When Lemon woke up, it was already the middle of the night.
She vaguely recalled being half-conscious as Fleur and Sugarcoat fucked next to her, switching positions and barely paying attention to her, unless they wanted to pee on her face. Once or twice Sugarcoat actually fucked her, quickly and without much feeling, as if she fucked a dead body. Lemon shuddered, feeling the stale cum inside of her vagina, and thought of the pills she had somewhere in her luggage. As far as she knew, Sugarcoat was firing blinds, but she didn’t want to take risks. Any Sugarcoat’s bastard that’d by some chance end up in her womb would be best off flushed down the toilet.
She winced, realising that the awful smell filling the air was actually her. She took off what little clothes she had left and went outside naked, grabbing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from a shelf near the back door.
The night was rather chill; Lemon decided to hide in the shed next to Sugarcoat’s cabin. There, she lit a cigarette, pondering about nothing in particular.
The first hit of the tobacco smoke hit her lungs, almost immediately causing her stomach to twist and turn. Lemon barely managed to run into the corner of the shed and squat, when liquid diarrhea poured out of her. She retched at the stench, but her stomach was empty; she just spat out some bile and inhaled more cigarette smoke, looking for some piece of paper to wipe her ass with.
“Sugarcoat was right. You’re as disgusting as you’re pathetic.”
Lemon raised her head and saw Fleur approaching her. Unlike her, Fleur was clean and neatly dressed. She walked to Lemon with a smirk.
“You shat all over this shed, you dirty whore,” Fleur said. “You deserve to be punished.”
“Maybe tomorrow,” Lemon replied. “I’m done with this kinda stuff for today.”
“That’s not your choice,” Fleur said, grabbing Lemon’s arms. “Your choice right now is, do you eat all of your shit from the floor first and then I fuck you like the whore you are, or the other way around?”
“None,” Lemon replied. “Fuck off, Fleur.”
“Wrong answer.” Fleur produced a knife from her pocket. “You’ll eat shit all the same, but now I’ll mark you as my private bitch,” she said. “After I’m done with you, you’ll beg me to– oof!” she gasped when Lemon punched her in the stomach. She swung her arm, hitting Lemon in the back of the head and knocking her onto a pile of firewood.
“Nice try.” Fleur smirked, watching as Lemon tried to get up. “I think I know what Sugarcoat sees in you. But now, if you behave, maybe I’ll give you back to her in mostly one piece…”
She walked closer to Lemon. Way too close; in the dim light of the shed, she didn’t notice at first when Lemon grabbed something from the pile of the firewood.
“I said, fuck off!” Lemon exclaimed, swinging an axe at Fleur. The blade sunk in her crotch, accompanied by a bloodcurdling scream. Fleur staggered, taking a few steps back. A bloody stain spread on the front of her pants. Fleur paled, looking at it.
“You whore,” she whispered, trying desperately to stop bleeding with her hands. “You cunt!”
“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Lemon asked, walking to Fleur with an axe in her hand. “Congratulations, you’re now officially a woman.”
“That’s not how this works…” Fleur collapsed on her knees.
“That’s not how any of this works,” Lemon smirked. “You know what, Francois? I have a feeling that you always liked to beat girls. At some point you realized that there’s less consequences if you also look like one, didn’t you, Francois?”
Fleur winced. “Stop… calling… me…”
“Sorry.” Lemon shrugged. “Deadname for a dead nutjob. Would you prefer to be called Buffalo Bill?”
“Shut up,” Fleur replied.
“I’m done with being told to shut up.” Lemon looked at Fleur. “Surgeons did some good job with you, but you know what? They didn’t get rid of your Adam’s apple.”
She raised the axe and swung again. Fleur managed to raise her hand and block the first blow, but screamed, watching as her fingers fall off. The second blow hit her right in the throat, severing arteries and wrecking her trachea. She let out a choking sound, a stream of blood shooting out of her neck and hitting Lemon. She dropped on the floor, twitching and kicking, desperately holding on to her life.
Then, suddenly, everything was over. Fleur kicked once again, shat herself with a rather undignified fart, and went limp. Her blood was pooling on the floor; there were stains on the walls and some drops were even falling from the ceiling.
The door of the shed opened and Sugarcoat ran in, dressed in a white sleeping gown. “What the fuck?” she asked, her eyes widening. “What the actual fuck? Jesus…”
“She wanted to kill me, or worse,” Lemon replied, her voice trembling. “So I gave her a sex change…”
“I see!” Sugarcoat exclaimed. “Fuck… Okay, you killed her, but did you have to turn it into a fucking French revolution?”
Lemon looked at the axe. “Well, it’s pretty hard to cut off someone’s head,” she said. “No wonder they used a guillotine.”
“Shut the fuck up!” Sugarcoat rubbed her temples. “What are we gonna do now?”
“It’s easy,” Lemon replied. “We need to burn this place.”
“No!” Sugarcoat replied.
“Why?”
“It’s my grandma’s cabin! Her piano is there.”
“You’re gonna get arrested over a piano?” Lemon asked. “You’ll be very popular in prison.”
“Shut up!” Sugarcoat screamed. “What can we do that doesn’t involve burning my property? Actually, I know. I’m calling the police!”
“Police will probably be very interested in what you two were doing to me in this remote cabin. Especially given your… condition, and the fact that your DNA and Fleur’s DNA is all over me, so to speak. You’ll clean this place, and then you’ll help me put the French whore in her car and push it down the ravine,” Lemon said.
Sugarcoat crossed her arms. “And now you’re suddenly very smart, huh? And what if I don’t do that? You’ll call the police?”
“Nah, why bother. You’ll join the dead French whore in the car,” Lemon replied. She looked at the axe she still held in her hand. “I officially ran out of the fucks to give.”
Sugarcoat sighed, trying not to look at Fleur’s body. “Okay,” she said. “Where do we start?”
Lemon grabbed the axe more firmly and licked her lips, looking at Sugarcoat. “Well, I’ll think of something…”
Author's Note
Happy pride month, or something.
