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The Mis-Adventures of John Constantine	By : Krystal_Frame Category: 1 through F > Constantine Views: 918 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own JC or any other DC properties. Merely meant for funsies.

Chapter List
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(WARNING: Definitely much darker and gorey-er than the last few. Proceed with caution, peeps!)
"What is it with these bloody caves?" John wanted to know. Behind him his best friend (and likely that was only because he was immortal) Chas grunted in agreement and raised the torch higher. The high-powered halceon light cast a vague glow on most of the interior of the rock chamber they had entered. Enough to see by so that you didn't drop into a hole or trip over the one stone keeping the whole cave from collapsing.
The beastie they were after would be easy to locate in that light.
Rumored to be stories tall, with god-like strength and speed, a siren's voice and breasts the size of...well suffice to say that every statue Man had ever made of the creature indicated mammory glands the size of boulders. He and Chas had both admitted wanting to go after this particular piece of Greek history purely for the chance of seeing her with their own eyes.
"Here, Echi-my beauty. Come on out, and play, luv." John called into the cave. Behind him he heard Chas snort and grinned to himself.
The taller, burlier man turned his attention to a battery operated tuner, hard rigged to a pair of D-batteries. "Nothin'." He muttered, lowering the torch to scan the ground for signs of a snake like path through the dust and bat dung. A woman on top and a deadly snake on the bottom. That was the mythical goddess known as Echidna to the Greeks. Rumored mother of hundreds of godlets, and one badass bitch.
Her only crime appeared to be occassionally luring a poor soul into her lair to do the dirty with him and then eat him. In the labyrinth of caves that he and John were exploring, the occasional "poor sod" as John put it, disappearing down the wrong passage, wasn't that unusual.
"Blokes take the wrong turning every day, mate. No. What's interesting is the sounds the locals have been hearin' from their sinks and toilets."
"Sinks...toilets." Chas gave incredulous a run for its money.
"Aye." John had chuckled, the two sitting elbow to elbow on the plane. "You see in the Grecian countryside the underground springs feed the farm houses and hovels. The water to be treated goes to a plant, but the source water is from mother earth herself. And you know how sound travels."
"So they're hearing something from the caves in their bathrooms?" Chas sussed out.
"Babies cries. A woman moaning as if in childbirth. Men screeching in pain. A regular horror show filtering through the pipes, torturing Mr. and Mrs. Joe Popoudapolos while they make their morning constitutional."
Chas had made a face that spoke to all the horror the image had conjured and John grinned. "That's what we're out to stop, my friend."
And that had been the last Chas had heard, or heard of, mournful noises coming from caves. The locals had corroborated the tales but the moment they came to the supposed source of the nasty magic there had been absolutely nothing amiss.
"Starting to feel like this is a bust." Chas said.
John laughed, a painful memory drawing his eyes to his own crotch for a moment. "That is about when all hell breaks loose. Stay focused. What does the tuner read?"
Chas lifted the device into the torchlight then groaned. "It's dead. Again. I told you D's weren't enough."
John groaned, his hands going to his hips. "I don't suppose we've anymore?"
"In the jeep maybe." Chas said, referring to the 4-wheel drive vehicle they had rented and parked about two miles away, out in the open.
John looked in the direction from whence they had come, turning the odds in his mind. Chas was ready to protest any idea of them breaking up when John threw his hand at the vast expanse of mildew and mold. "Let's pack it in for today. We'll shop for more power tomorrow and give it another go."
Chas nodded, sighing with satisfaction, before they both turned to retrace their steps.
He was holding the torch. He had it pointed at the ground and there was nothing there to trip him up, and yet Chas found himself in the next moment, flat on the ground. Something had pressed against his left ankle and yanked. The impact knocked the tuner out of his hand and sent it flying. He heard John's shoes scraping on gravel and the sharp intake of breath that told him it hadn't been a rock he'd tripped on after all.
Then he was being dragged over rocks and dirt, through shallow water and fowl smelling goop.
John took off after his friend, snapping his zippo to life and lighting a flame in his palm to guide him. He caught brief glimpses of the thing dragging Chas into the recesses of the cave, and the splash of light from the torch bouncing off the cave walls. The beast came to him in frozen images of scaled, incandescent blue, white and green. If it weren't for the drag marks that Chas left behind, John wouldn't have been able to keep up with her.
He must have covered half a mile before he could sense the creature's presence in a large chamber ahead. The cave had gone from a pleasant 50 degrees F to a broiling 90 degrees F. Every scrap of clothing John wore clung to his body as he began to sweat profusely and he became aware of an ambient glow outside of the flame in his palm.
John let the magical energy seep away and cast himself into the shadows, listening. He heard the rapid breathing of his friend, then a shocked cry. John gritted his teeth forcing himself to be patient. He heard another cry, this one sounding confused more than pained. Then the breathing again, frantic panting that felt like it was building up to something. It was combined with grunting and heaved moans. The sounds increased in speed and intensity and John began to be able to make out a shape in the shadows.
A giant, horrible, writhing shape. Two massive tails thick as redwood trunks closer to the body, and thin as reeds towards the end. A thin waist, bared breasts that he could only see the outer curves of. A figure suspended in the air, looking like he had one leg longer than the other. Pale, almost translucent hands teasing, touching, stroking...
John unconsciously stepped closer and closer until he realised what was happening. The Echidna had torn Chas' pants off one leg and was stroking his friend to arousal. Her back was to him so he couldn't see the end goal, but Chas, no matter how hard he was resisting, was about to blow.
As much as he felt Chas deserved to get his rocks off, John knew he had to stop the beast. He began to weave a paralysis spell. His words were soft at first, his movements meant to go unnoticed. Chas' voice rang out, his hips jerking into the working hand of the Echnida. He still beat against the tail that had wrapped around him thrice but his lower half was giving in.
John could hardly blame him.
Constantine sped up the spell, his voice louder. The Echidna responded with a growl and sped up her own minstrations. John aimed the spell he was casting at the tail holding his friend. He felt the power building inside him like a dam preparing to burst and shouted the final words before casting the spell.
Chas blew his load seconds before the paralysis spell hit the Echidna's left-most tail. Her hold on Chas instantly loosened and his friend began to drop to the ground. The Echidna, however, was faster than John had anticipated. Her right tail flashed out toward her prey, falling, still cumming, and speared him.
John could see only the outline of his friend but he heard the heart wrenching scream and saw the tail go in below Chas' ass and come out of his mouth, along with blood and bits of gore. The scream was choked off in a wet gurgle and the Echidna flicked her tail, like a horse might bat at a fly. Chas' broken, half-naked body flew twenty-five feet and disappeared in the shadows, landing with a thud, the beam of the still lit torch spiralling after him.
Despite himself, despite his faith that Chas could recover from anything, John found himself screaming his friend's name and trying to run to him. He should have been preparing the second spell. He should have been creating a containment circle.
The still functional tail, slick with his friend's innards, wrapped around his body once, twice, thrice, before piercing his left shoulder from the back and coming out the front. John passed out two seconds after the pain hit then was jolted awake moments later. He was flashing through the air, the beast drawing him closer to bright, glowing curealean eyes. John couldn't feel his left arm anymore and the pain made it almost impossible to breathe.
He used his right hand to take some of the weight of his body from the appendage impaling him, his legs kicking wildly for purchase on something. The Echidna pressed him close to her nose, then reached out a forked toungue. She raked the wet, fowl smelling organ over his unshaven face and down to his shoulder tasting the blood there.
"Wizard." She hissed, her voice nothing like the promised siren song.
"H-hell sp-spawn..." John managed, struggling to draw in breath enough to support his usual snark. The pressure around his torso changed subtley. A shifting of muscle under the surprisingly soft surface of her scales. He felt a ridge of muscle slipping under his ass and the pressure in his chest eased a little as his weight came to rest on something other than the tip of tail and his peirced flesh.
"Have never...had wizard before." The Echidna stated, her head tilting from side to side as she continued to inspect her catch. The tongue flickered out again, this time slapping his cheek with force enough to snap his head to the side. He went slack jawed for only a moment but it was time enough for her tongue to slip into his mouth and plunge down his throat. It reached his stomach before it even slowed, too thick in his mouth for him to bite down.
John gagged hard, unable to breathe until he reminded himself that he had a nose for a reason. He took a hesitant breath, then another, wincing as he felt the tip of her tongue probing around his stomach lining then pressing deeper down against something that didn't want to give.
A hard burning pain followed by the taste of bile and the dolmathakia he'd had for lunch traveled from his stomach to his throat. John felt her tugging on his pants, then shredding them with deft claws. She forced his legs up, then apart, and to save his joints John let her do it.
She was moaning. Whatever her tongue was finding she apparently loved it, and wanted more. She pressed harder and John tasted the hard, coppery tine of blood. Then her tongue went through, into his bowls and John felt like he was going to shit himself.
The combination of horrible feelings was too much and he passed out again. Not for long. No where near long enough. When he woke he could smell his own shit and could feel the burn at his anus that meant he'd defecated himself. She'd gotten rid of the boxers and he could still feel the pressure of her tongue somewhere in his bowels.
He could see glints of saliva running down her open maw and her eyes were rolled back in her head. If he had the wits or stamina, or the use of his mouth, he could have cast the second paralysis spell and he'd be free of this torment. He could feel her wriggling inside him, worming her way lower. He felt pressure against his sphincter and tried to clamp down against it. She pushed harder and shit came out of him, freefalling to the cave floor.
A part of him was glad that Chas was dead...hopefully only temporarily...so that he couldn't see this part. There was nothing heroic about being throatfucked by a goddess until he shat himself.
Her tail moved again, shifting and loosening and readjusting. He caught a glimpse of his own belly, poking out and showing bruising already from the unwanted invasion. She seemed determined to explore every inch of his digestive system and he wasn't sure if it was an aparitif or food prep. She had no apparent interest in his seed.
The tail shifted again and John suddenly felt his uninjured arm pressed against something hard in his trench coat pocket. He shifted his hand up by centimeters, recognizing the small, cylindrical shape of the pocket knife that Zed had given him. It'd been her joke. Calling him the MacGyver of the magical world. He'd slapped together one too many spells out of chewing gum and gasoline, apparently.
He could have kissed her for the gift now.
The toungue continued to press through his small intestine and into the large, pushing twenty-four to forty-eight hours of waste from his ass. John ignored it as best he could, blocked out the pain in his shoulder, and focused on the five free digits and one tiny blade. He had it free of his pocket and was using his thumb to open the blade when the pain of an invasion in his large intestine made him cry out. She was pushing so hard that his limp cock was bouncing around in the air like a bloody flag in response.
John knew that he wouldn't be able to get the wee blade through the skin of her tail. He didn't expect that she would be impressed by the pinprick, but her toungue was another matter. If he waited...if he played his cards right, he could get his arm loose and up to his mouth in a flash and cut her tongue off.
It was a vague and wild hope, but the only one he had at the moment. He waited, grimacing and moaning as she pushed the last of his waste from him. He felt the flicker of her tongue against the inside of his abused sphincter and could feel it inadvertently pressing against his prostate. Her tongue undulated inside him and pressed against his bladder hard.
He screamed and lost the contents of that, too, the urine stream dousing her belly even as his cock began to fill with blood.
She shifted, just as he'd hoped she would. The pressure on his arm went away and he yanked hard enough to dislocate the shoulder. He put every ounce of strength he had left into one solid strike and to his wonder and amazement he severed the tongue the moment she pierced his anus. The she-beast screamed and threw her head back, her grip tightening around John.
Without a mind to control it, the tongue immediately lost some of its girth and John tried to pull it from his mouth. He felt as if he was trying to rip out his own innards and screamed, aware of a gush of warmth coming from his ass. John pulled again, clearing a scant five inches of his throat before he made another surgical cut. The elasticity of the muscle contracted what remained and John felt it retract behind his vocal chords. The moment he drew in a big enough breath he began the incantation.
The power he tried to pull from the earth felt like it came on too fast, and too hard. His body wasn't prepared for the sheer force of it but he didn't have a choice. The beast was preparing to toss him against the cave wall, or perhaps bash his skull open. He gagged and tripped over the words, forcing his strained voice to enunciate. He finished the spell just as the she beast extracted the tip of her tail from his shoulder, and fell limp into a pile of useless meat and bones and scales.
His belly felt like he was pregnant and he had a literal lump in his throat that he couldn't swallow. His shoulder was bleeding and he was certain it was blood coming from his ass. The she-beast, reliant on the control of at least one of her tails to remain upright, collapsed with an earth shaking thud to the cave floor, wailing.
John had only his right arm and he used it to crawl desparately away.
One more spell. Just one more and he could send the creature, and by proxy all of her various parts, to hell where she belonged.
One more spell..he told himself as if it wasn't the hardest spell to cast even on a good day.
John flopped, half naked onto the floor of the cavern and felt thin, tender internal linings ripping. He felt something solid sliding out of his ass and could only hope it was part of her tongue and not part of his bowels.
His breathing got a little easier and he made it to his knees, forced wide apart by the bulk of his belly. If he survived, if he could someday walk again without a bag attached to him, he'd have stretch marks from literal hell.
John felt the tongue move in his throat, felt it slithering all through his body and more of it coming out of his ass. The damnable appendage kept pressing against his prostate when it moved and the hardon he'd developed was as embarrassing as pimples on prom night.
He crawled on, fumbling toward the decanted light of the torch. Toward where he had seen Chas fly eons ago. His abdomen clenched and more of the tongue came out, moving faster as it came free of his esophagus and stomach. As if his body had finally figured out how to digest the mile long hotdog he'd been forced to swallow.
The pain and discomfort was incredible, far outweighing the raw agony of his shoulder. But like any night he'd spent excavating on the toilet, he began to have faith that it would end once his body had figured its shit out.
He reached the torch, turned the storage compartment toward himself and pulled the vial of pure energy from it.
His "break in case of armageddon", last chance potion. Enough energy to cast one hell of a spell before he gave up entirely.
John popped the cork and drank. A moment later he was standing as the last of the severed tongue slithered from his ass and coiled on the floor. He directed some of the energy toward healing, stopping the bleeding by fueling his red and white blood cells, and energizing his antibodies. Then his mouth began to move and he opened a hole to hell. He barely felt the pain in his left arm as he formed the rune in the air, canted it, then cast the opening toward the goddess and watched her slide foot by foot into the chasm.
John held the spell until even the stench of her was gone, then closed the hole and fell back into a pair of strong, hairy arms. Thick hands closed his trench coat over his bare legs and his hardon and John felt himself being bundled against a muscled chest. He coughed weakly and put his good arm around the thick neck, trying to help, if only a little. Despite the heat he began to shake and weep silently into the rough cotton of Chas' shirt.
The big man didn't make a sound. With sure, strong, powerful strides he carried the smaller blonde through the tunnels and up to the surface.
They didn't speak.
Not from the cave to the jeep, not from the jeep to the healer, not from the healer to the airport, not from the aiport to the millhouse. When Zed asked how it had gone they didn't speak, and she finally stopped asking.
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The Mis-Adventures of John Constantine