.Lamia
folder
Erotica › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
55,860
Reviews:
94
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
2
Category:
Erotica › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
55,860
Reviews:
94
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
2
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
VI Xmas
The zoo staff has a number of traditions for the holiday season.
The party is the weekend before the holiday. Married people get Xmas off, single people get New Years. That's fairly standard for any group.
A little less standard are the traditions for the animals. Every year, the male keepers 'sneak' a few prostitutes into the satyr enclosure. They think the administration doesn't know about it. Actually, we just ignore it. We do pay enough attention to be sure the number of hookers that went in match the number that comes out the next day.
A more recent tradition, the women on staff have taken to hiring male prostitutes for the harpies in the Atrium. They also think they're getting away with it. I let my assistant, Jolene, hear me singing a few lines of 'hot time in the hen house tonight,' though. Terror is good for subordinates.
There are gifts and treats for the others, as well. Sphinx receive puzzles. Damietta's kid, Macchus, got a 3D puzzle of the Space Needle in Seattle. He seemed excited.
The lamia get a bucket of chocolate sauce. They swim through it and lick themselves clean.
Shedu of the various species and sizes enjoy kicking a lawn mower to pieces each season. They seem to think it's competition.
Centaurs get to spend up to $50 each on the Borders website.
Clarisse has never expressed any interest in participating. And what do you get a 3000+ year old Naga, anyway? Her shell did crack the tiniest bit this year, though. At her request, I bought a fashion doll for her to give Dorothy.
I thought it was cute watching her hug her dolly, until I realized she was trying to kill it.
Gremlins get watches; mermaids get fishing line; Leprechauns used to get micro-brews, before they were repatriated; griffins get silk handkerchiefs; dragons get whatever the hell they want, of course.
I was on my way back from helping stack bales of alfalfa in the reindeer corral (yes, they disappear on Xmas Eve, no it isn't part of a publicity stunt, no I don't know for SURE where they go), when I heard voices in the rotunda.
I eased down the hall, wondering if a guard or keeper was talking to one the animals. There was a strange quality to the voice, though.
"...of Christmas Past," it was saying as I got to the doorway. "I am to show you AIEEEEEEEEEE!"
I ran into the room, to find Clarisse coiled lazily on the floor in the center of her exhibit. A bulge in her neck moved swiftly down her length. A pure while rope sandal dangled from her mouth, a strap caught on one of her fangs.
She stared straight at me as she licked it into her mouth and swallowed. We stared for a bit.
"I'm fond of myself, St. James," she finally said. "I see no reason to change, nor to tolerate those who would change me."
"And bless us all, every one," I said, backing down the hall. She smiled.
The party is the weekend before the holiday. Married people get Xmas off, single people get New Years. That's fairly standard for any group.
A little less standard are the traditions for the animals. Every year, the male keepers 'sneak' a few prostitutes into the satyr enclosure. They think the administration doesn't know about it. Actually, we just ignore it. We do pay enough attention to be sure the number of hookers that went in match the number that comes out the next day.
A more recent tradition, the women on staff have taken to hiring male prostitutes for the harpies in the Atrium. They also think they're getting away with it. I let my assistant, Jolene, hear me singing a few lines of 'hot time in the hen house tonight,' though. Terror is good for subordinates.
There are gifts and treats for the others, as well. Sphinx receive puzzles. Damietta's kid, Macchus, got a 3D puzzle of the Space Needle in Seattle. He seemed excited.
The lamia get a bucket of chocolate sauce. They swim through it and lick themselves clean.
Shedu of the various species and sizes enjoy kicking a lawn mower to pieces each season. They seem to think it's competition.
Centaurs get to spend up to $50 each on the Borders website.
Clarisse has never expressed any interest in participating. And what do you get a 3000+ year old Naga, anyway? Her shell did crack the tiniest bit this year, though. At her request, I bought a fashion doll for her to give Dorothy.
I thought it was cute watching her hug her dolly, until I realized she was trying to kill it.
Gremlins get watches; mermaids get fishing line; Leprechauns used to get micro-brews, before they were repatriated; griffins get silk handkerchiefs; dragons get whatever the hell they want, of course.
I was on my way back from helping stack bales of alfalfa in the reindeer corral (yes, they disappear on Xmas Eve, no it isn't part of a publicity stunt, no I don't know for SURE where they go), when I heard voices in the rotunda.
I eased down the hall, wondering if a guard or keeper was talking to one the animals. There was a strange quality to the voice, though.
"...of Christmas Past," it was saying as I got to the doorway. "I am to show you AIEEEEEEEEEE!"
I ran into the room, to find Clarisse coiled lazily on the floor in the center of her exhibit. A bulge in her neck moved swiftly down her length. A pure while rope sandal dangled from her mouth, a strap caught on one of her fangs.
She stared straight at me as she licked it into her mouth and swallowed. We stared for a bit.
"I'm fond of myself, St. James," she finally said. "I see no reason to change, nor to tolerate those who would change me."
"And bless us all, every one," I said, backing down the hall. She smiled.