Rockanony
It began, if current day historians are to be believed, some five hundred years or so ago.
Following a massive underwater earthquake out in both the Atlantic and Pacific oceans, our perceived mastery over planet earth came to sudden and violent end.
It wasn't the catastrophic tidal waves leveling densely populated coastal regions that did it. Cities can be rebuilt and populations resettled after all.
It wasn't the economic fallout such sudden destruction caused either, as the fall of one rich economic block inevitably gives rise to another, eager to pick up where it left off.
No.
It was the beast that emerged from the depths that brought it all crashing down.
As the world struggled to recover from a natural disaster beyond any level previously envisioned, a creature began rampaging through their ruins and beyond.
Reports were at first scattered, confused, and generally disbelieved.
Those working to help survivors in the ruined coastal regions started to send out calls for help, claiming some colossal creature had emerged from the seas and had started knocking down anything the punishing waves had previously left standing.
Those capable of responding sent troops but found only rubble.
Then they claimed it had set the refugee camps housing the survivors ablaze with a jet of flame from its huge razor toothed maw.
Again troops were sent, but again they found only the charred remains of those too slow to escape the flames.
Then they described a towering scaled horror spawned from the darkest depths of hell itself, as tall as a twenty story building, marching with a terrible purpose towards the nearest major city to have escaped the previous devistation.
They also made numerous mentions of the collosal pair of scaly tits it happened to be sporting...
The response this time was mostly laughter.
The laughter died shortly after, along with the city.
Within a few years, three things were understood.
Firstly, the creature was not alone.
Other monstrosities were sighted across the globe, each taking a swath of land as it's own, and razing it of anything and everything.
Secondly, the creatures could not be stopped by any known military power.
Bullets, missiles, air strikes, nuclear...
All flowed over the scaled hides like water from a duck's back.
Only death found those who tried
Thirdly, all the creatures were female.
Each reported beast was described as having its own pair of ample breasts, and those who survived being trampled underfoot, and dared to look up, reported seeing some other undeniably feminine features too.
This final point didn't seem to matter all that much back then however, as advanced modern civilization collapsed under the creatures' combined assault.
Humanity retreated into smaller rural communities, deliberately building small and mostly underground settlements to try and hide from seemingly inevitable extinction.
In the years that followed however, a final understanding was made by the remnants of a former world superpower.
One that was broadcast out across the world in the hopes others might use the knowledge somehow, even as they themselves perished under a beast's final wrath.
The creatures were violently horny, and intelligent enough to be propositioned...
They had witnessed the beast responsible for wrecking their part of the world stalking through the ruins of a city. It was agitated, stopping occasionally to try and grab at itself, specifically at the area down between it's collosal legs.
With hands covered in razor sharp talons however, it could do little but scratch at itself in seeming frustration.
Then it was viewed trying to grind itself on the ruins of what had once been a mighty skyscraper, only to find disappointment as it crumbled into chafing dust.
With many level headed leaders already dead and gone, more radical minds came forward and devised a plan.
A huge monitor was taken from the ruins of a sporting stadium and flown into the air under a group of surviving helicopters.
On it was broadcast a string of easy to follow images.
A sketch of a poorly and hastily drawn dinosaur, following a flashing arrow to a big X, laying down, having something big and potent looking put between it's legs, and then lots of little hearts.
No one but the 'artist' had seen the images before the broadcast, as quite sensibly he'd suspected the others would have shot him on the spot if they had.
Yet despite the horror of those who watched the little images flash across the screen repeat, the beast reacted quite differently.
It seemed to hop up and down on the spot in excitement, bellowing happily as it began following the helicopters to their destination.
At the target site was waiting something large and phallic.
The creature had understood immediately, and wasted no time in striding over and squatting down over it.
With a shuddering hiss it lowered itself down onto the waiting monolith, eyes closing as a long and suffering desire was at long last looking to be appeased.
But the waiting humans sprung their final gambit.
The item being used by the beast to pleasure itself was in fact the last of their intercontinental ballistic missiles.
The nuclear flavoured one.
They detonated, hoping a blast from within the beast might do what the attacks from without could not.
When the cloud of dust and flame cleared, they found the beast remained.
With only the equivalent of a nuclear carpet burn to her undercarriage to show for their efforts, they despaired.
The beast's wrath for being both tricked and denied, was nothing short of apocalyptic. It raged with fire and fury, without rest, until nothing remained of that old superpower.
Had there been anyone left able to view the continent from orbit by the time it's rage was spent, they would have noted a continent shrank quite considerably that day.
Their final act of resistance was to send out a message before being lost to time forever more.
In the present day.
Humanity has found a way to survive, at least in one small area of the world.
Contact has been lost with anyone beyond the borders of one last bastion.
A humble city of survivors has formed, living simple lives of agriculture and sustainability.
There are those who dream of expanding out once more into the old world, but most are thankful for the bounty of the present.
They know that it all relies on the success, of the "Cummening".
The Farseers have detected the signs of arrival, which means it is time to gather on the shore of the nearby ocean.
The shore itself is decorated as if for a festival, with colorful floral displays and streamers flowing in the breeze.
Music is played as the people dance and celebrate, as if today is the last day they will ever live to see.
They all fall silent as a massive head breaks the ocean's surface a mile or so away, with now only the drums beating to mark the approach of the beast.
The crowds pull back to the edge of the beach as the creature makes landfall, the youngest clutching their parents in fear as the monster from the stories glares down upon them with burning amber eyes.
Thick black scales glitter in the sunshine as the seawater runs down it's colossal length.
With a roar that shakes all that hear it to the bone, it drops down to the sand and lays itself down upon its back.
It props itself up upon its elbows to still glare at the gathered humans as it spreads it's legs, and waits, it's long tail carefully pulled away to the side as not to hinder access.
The humans know what is expected.
A team runs forth and quickly constructs a platform with practiced efficiency.
A set of stairs leading up from the sand to the waiting scaled mound of the beast's womanhood.
They dare not linger and are done within minutes.
With a fresh banging of the drums, 'He' is summoned.
From a small pavillion further up the beach a lone man emerges into the sun, shaved head shining in the sun, well oiled muscles glistening.
He is the one who has been chosen for this moment, trained for years since the first signs of awakening were detected, so he could stand here now for the Cummening today.
His name was discarded as his burden was shouldered.
The crowds cheer as he ascends the platform, all their hopes and fears now bound in what he must do.
As he stares at the mound of scales in front of him, they fall silent.
Concentration is needed now.
His fists are heavily bound as to offer some protection from what he must do, but his fingertips are bare so that they may find his target.
As he reaches out and touches the form before him, his world is lost in a series of shuddering growls and grumbles.
The beast, despite being covered in thick scales down there that would make tank armour jealous, is very much aware of his light probing.
He has been taught that before he can truly begin, he must unlock the gates and expose his true target.
So he reaches into the gaps between the scales, to the softer and more sensitive flesh beneath.
As he pushes and pries, the rumblings grow in pitch and frequency.
It doesn't take long.
Before him the gates open, like the blossoming of a great flower the armoured lips part, and he beholds the hidden kingdom of heaven.
A lesser man might have faltered then, overcome by the majesty of what he beheld, or swooned from the heady miasma that assaulted his senses that was the terrible lizard's terrible need.
But not him.
He had trained for this day.
It only took him a moment to steady his mind and locate his target.
Emerging from the folds of quivering flesh just above him was his prize, a round nub of concentrated nerve clusters that the temple called simply; the Clitorari Major.
With a slightly shaking hand, despite his training and fortitude, he reached out and stroked it.
The effect was instantaneous.
Everything shook as the beast responded.
A throaty 'coo' filled the air as she responded to his touch.
But it was short lived, and followed by what was undoubtedly a longer growling of frustration.
Simply touching was not going to be enough here, as he already knew.
A beast of this size and constitution wasn't going to be sated so easily.
Those who had come before had paved the way with trial and error, at the cost of life and limb.
There was only one way to please this beast, and one way only.
Raising his bandaged fists, he began his work with grim determination.
With the first almighty punch the beast roared.
It's mighty legs shook and the spiked tip of it's tail thrashed, sending a plume of sand flying into the air to fall on the cheering crowd below.
It had begun, and the signs were good.
With each successive hit the shaking and quivering of the flesh around him intensified.
Previous attempts by his forerunners had taught valuable lessons, that this was the the only spot that would make the beast respond this way, that attempting to use anything other than human hands (such as heavy equipment for example) led to a very dissatisfied and wrathful beast.
So he kept on hitting, one hand and then the other, working at different spots and areas until he found the parts that elicited the best responses.
The beast continued to twitch and writhe upon the beach, the sea roiling back against her as she growled in pleasure.
It was looking good, until disaster struck.
The air down by the platform became even more humid and heady as the beast reacted to the human's onslaught.
He became lightheaded, and the platform moist.
Despite the intensity of his training he began to tire the longer he worked, his pace slackened for a moment along with his concentration.
He slipped, and fell backwards cracking his head.
For a fateful minute nothing happened.
The crowd fell silent, seeing that something was wrong but daring not approach.
The beast stopped twitching, and once again growled in frustration.
It's amber eyes peering down towards the beach with a mix of annoyance and impatience.
If she didn't get what she needed from this little exchange, then something or some one was going to burn.
Or a a lot of some ones.
The man rose back unsteadily to his feet, one hand rubbing at the back of his head.
His vision was swimming, his mind wavering as the pungent and moist air threatened to rob him of strength.
But then it was moments like these that the crowd was here for, not simply to watch, but to encourage their champion to victory.
The beast was beginning to shift impatiently, it's tail snaking dangerously close to where the crowd watched fearfully.
But a voice rang out from somewhere within it, one familiar to the man.
"What are ya doing up there ya bum!?!" it yelled.
"Get back in there!"
Years of that voice echoing through the training hall helped bring the man's mind back into focus.
He once more turned to face his target, the mound of flesh moving now as the beast threatened to get up.
A lightning fast jab from his left brought her to a pause, while a heavier blow from his right caused her to settle back into position with a pleased grumble.
The crowd cheered, and then settled into their own role.
They began to sing.
Quietly at first, but steadily growing in volume as those previously cowed by the presence of the beast gained more confidence.
He starts to pick up speed as the singing gets louder.
Duh nah naahh - duh nah naahh!
Sweat and gigantic monster lady juice now block his vision, limiting his view to just a blurry pink mess.
Yet he carries on regardless.
Duh nah naahh - duh nah naahh!
As his muscles burn with the effort his mind fogs over, but he doesn't need to think now. Only his grim purpose remains.
DUUH NAH NNAAAAAAHHHHH - DUUH NAH NNAAAAAAHHHHH!!!
The singing reaches a fever pitch as he prepared to land the finishing blow.
The voices caught between the towering thighs bracketing the beech caused an almost cathedral like echo to form.
"Do it for your people!" the voice shouted out again.
"Do it for your family!"
Then, as he pulled back for one final haymaker...
"Do it for yourself!"
DUUH NAH NNNAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!
His fist connected with the beast's quivering flesh for a final time.
The beast's legs snapped shut and it's head flew backwards.
An almighty "UUUWWWWWWUUUUUUGGHHHH!" erupted from its toothy maw, followed by a jet of cerulean flame shooting up and out into the sky.
It was done.
The beast was sated.
After a short time spent laying down beneath the breaking waves, the beast stirred.
It had taken the best part of an hour before it had managed to pull itself together.
The crowds of anxious people had waited in silence, unwilling to disturb the lounging creature from her reverie.
It stood unsteadily, almost unsure as to what it should do with itself and the warm glow it now carried.
It looked down upon the gathered humans, amber eyes slightly unfocused, but holding what could easily be construed as affection.
With a final purr like bellow, it turned and stalked back into the sea.
A final flick of it's tail, and it was gone.
The crowd went wild.
With the successful completion of the Cummening, their continued survival was assured for another generation.
Not only would the beast leave them and their families alone, it would also see off any rival beast that might come looking.
She had found her release, and she would jealously guard it from any who would threaten to take it.
The people would now celebrate, partying for five days straight, as was tradition.
The stank left on the beech would do wonders for the local fertility rate, encouraging couples young and old to celebrate through the nights as well as the days.
It was only on the sixth day, after the hangovers hit, that the two days of mourning would begin.
For after the beast left, both now as in the past, there would be no sign of the champion.
The platform lay in splinters, crushed by the beast as it writhed in ecstasy.
There was no body to be found, and no triumphant hero to decorate.
He had vanished.
The people would mourn him, build a statue in his honour at the temple, and await the time when they would train his successor.
As to his fate?
The more logically minded would say he was most certainly dead.
Crushed by the beast unknowingly and unintentionally, but most likely now adorning her large and ample butt cheek as she swam away to her lair.
The more spiritually minded said that the champion had ascended to Valhalla.
After achieving the impossible task of pleasing a beast of the underworld he had been whisked away to meet his ancestors and feast until the end of days.
Most would go back to their lives and forget.
Today's hero was yesterday's news in the end.
And yet...
There were those however who thought otherwise.
Those who told exactly no one what they thought.
Who told no one that they thought they saw the beast leave with one mighty claw closed as it stalked away, as if it was carrying something fragile away with it.
They told not a soul that they believed the beast took her prize back to her secret lair beyond the sea.
That she had claimed the champion for her own purposes, that she, against all the rules of science and nature, was somehow breeding a new race using the best of humanity that would one day spread across the ruins of the earth and claim it for their own.
They told no one this, for surely it was nothing more than the mad ravings of the lost, wasn't it?
Imagine...
End.