Bloodlines

Chapter 4

Lizard awoke the following morning with his hand still entwined with that of Three Finger’s. His companion twitched in his sleep but otherwise remained undisturbed, so Lizard took the opportunity to examine the man’s hand. With the left arm remained a knobby, wiry mass of bone and muscle, distorted in a way which suggested images of a patchwork monstrosity such as Frankenstein’s monster, the right miraculously remained unmarred by genetic mutation. He carefully twisted the right hand at every angle as he observed its features. It avoided its companion’s fused, warped appearance and was instead finely formed, elegant almost to the point of resembling a female’s hand. The other hand had its uses, but this one was far prettier.

Junior squiggled again as though determined to break loose of his delicate prison of skin. The movement was enough to make Lizard give a pained grunt louder than he had meant. Of course, Three Finger promptly awoke and his big stupid grin was practically instantaneous. Lizard gave a very brief, very false smile back and tried to shift his body. He would have gone back to sleep if his back did not feel as though it had been beaten by four angry whores with metal baseball bats.

Finally managing to turn over, his back facing the other man, Lizard tried to ignore the predictable snickering which was becoming louder with each second.

“Cut it out. I’m sleepin’.”

Suddenly he felt something warm and wet against the small of his back. A tongue, no doubt. A wet trail of spittle grew as Three Finger slowly pulled down his fellow hunter’s long johns and journeyed to the poor man’s backside. As the tongue continued, the once greatly admired right hand landed on his chest and crept closer and closer to the pair of fleshy, swollen nubs, which were in no mood for stimulation. In fact, they caused serious discomfort, especially when Three Finger’s nails tickled them into action. Lizard glared to himself, knowing exactly where this sort of behaviour was going, and he growled out a threat for the other hunter to keep his bony little mitts to himself.

A needful whimper sounded, but Lizard ignored it and curled up in as tight a ball as his body could currently allow.

“I ain’t in no mood for your grab-assin’. Now fuck off.”

Lizard was telling the truth. His mood this morning, especially after what had happened last night, was hardly anywhere near cheerful. Besides, his back was murdering him…

Three Finger pouted, though his little display of discouragement obviously went unnoticed by a man’s whose back remained facing him. He only wanted his mate to be happy after all. He loved his family, and no one could ever replace them, especially not a belligerent, sour creature such as Lizard. But they had bonded somehow in the time since Lizard found him in the desert and took pity on him. Perhaps it had been because of their resemblance, their similar lifestyles and passions. Perhaps it had been because they were both alone. Whatever the cause, Three Finger knew he would have died had he no one else but himself. Being here, with a purpose, a real life, and someone to share that life with made all the difference. And Lizard may have been a bastard at times, but at least he was a damn fun bastard.

Even better, a damn fun bastard carrying his pup.

Muttering in his native tongue, Three Finger told his mate that he was off to check the furthest reaches of their territory for any new cars or people. He could only hope one day Lizard would get some sense in his crusty head and learn what he was saying. For goodness sakes, it wasn’t that hard… Giving his companion’s side a reassuring pat, he stood and briefly regarded the glum shape resting on the mattress before taking off. The curves of his mate’s body reminded him of the most explicit of moments experienced only days ago, and he licked his swollen gums in satisfied meditation as he trotted out the front door and took one of the tunnels leading to the outer limits of his new home. He remembered vividly how he suckled and lapped at Lizard’s ample flesh as though it were ripe fruit and found himself giggling at the simile. Lizard practically was a ripe fruit at this point, ready to burst at any time, though for once not with seeds. Three Finger did not want to be naïve, but hidden in the back of his mind was a little vision of greeting their pup in the first moments of the morning, holding him or her in his arms and cuddling the little one against his or her mother’s chest.

Lizard would have then told them both to go jerk off.

* * *

A long, heavy sigh escaped Lizard’s split lips as he sat up at the edge of the bed. His back was not giving him any peace, and to make matters worse, that dumb shithead’s tickling had caused his tits to go into overdrive. He looked down to watch them faintly leak and dared not dry them; they hurt enough already.

Shuffling off of the mattress, he took his time gaining balance before he tried to leave the room. The bathtub was down the hall and thankfully not downstairs, so Lizard took the opportunity to treat himself to a bit of a bath. Fuck the actual thought of bathing, but the idea of immersing himself in a nice cool tub of water was absolutely perfect. At least it would give his udders a break, possibly his back too.

Thank god the bathtub still worked. Lizard managed to fill the tub to half its capacity and then stood leaning over the edge, wondering how the hell he was going to get in without seriously hurting himself. Glancing at his clothes, he wriggled loose of them as he sat at the tub’s edge and turned in his seat, opting to grasp either side of the tub and lower his body into the water, which was harder than he initially conceived. Leaning back, the miserable man sighed, his discomfort slightly alleviated in the cool water. Junior seemed to enjoy the feeling as well and once again throttled his host’s ribs as proof. Frowning and sinking further under the water’s surface, Lizard noticed how his body failed to fully meet the floor of the tub, while a protruding navel rose over the water surface and peaked his sphere of a belly like a third nipple.

Fucking great, he thought. As heavy as his body had become, it was still buoyant like a raft. A big, aching, foul tempered raft.

The child had not ceased his motion and as Lizard shifted in the water, he felt a prominent push against his stomach. Perhaps the little bastard was trying to claw its way out after all. Stroking the shuddering sphere more for his own comfort than his child’s, the desert hunter picked his brain, desperate to remember what he had done to calm the parasite last time. A limb nudged against his thumb as he rubbed it back and forth over his skin and the light bulb of brilliance went off instantly. Once more trying to enjoy his time in the bathtub, Lizard continued to caress his belly with his thumb, his wish granted as the movement eventually slowed to a halt.

“Good boy,” he muttered.

Nearly nodding off after five minutes of cooling down, Lizard decided to get out of the tub, using the curious leather harnesses Three Finger still had not taken down from the curtain rack since his last big cleaning of game. His feet slipped on the tile floor and he cursed loudly for forgetting to put down some sort of cover. Instead, on wobbly legs, he managed to make it to the pile of his discarded clothing, long johns included. For a moment, Lizard wondered if he should take the presently difficult effort to dry himself off or let his clothes dry with him and grant him a lingering chance to cool off. Grunting, he chose the latter, but the minutes which passed until he finally managed to reach past his squatting legs and cumbersome form to pick up his clothes made him consider going about in the nude for once.

Fully clothed and leaning back against the wall, Lizard grumbled to himself and to the unborn child, contemplating for a time in which he’d lost count about his predicament. He looked ready to drop a calf any day now and wondered how exactly the event in question would play through. He would not be surprised if the little demon did claw its way out, but deep down he hoped such would not happen. He did have a spew-hole like females did for this sort of occasion, and in that thought, he briefly pondered what would happen if he simply tried to remove all that garbage from between his legs himself.

He would never tell Three Finger, but he was secretly terrified. He had witnessed the birth of his little brother Goggle, and that was proof enough that he had never intentionally wanted to bear young, but now that there was nothing to be done but wait for the inevitable, he was frightened for his life. What if he bled to death, or became infected by his wounds, deep inside his body? Lizard shuddered in spite of himself and tried to push away the thought, struggling to stand again.

He was about to go back to bed when he heard something outside. Lizard had heard his mate coming home enough times to recognize Three Finger’s gait and this certainly did not sound like Three Finger. This could only mean some sort of intruder, and Lizard clearly was in no mood for such. Though hardly able to move, however, he could still defend himself if the occasion called for it, and he slowly reached under the bed frame for a shotgun the two hunters always kept handy.

Whatever or whomever was approaching the house was coming towards the porch. Glancing out the window in the bathroom, Lizard saw a set of bloody footprints and figured someone had gotten away from one of Three Finger’s hunts. Trying to ignore a gnawing worry that his companion had missed one due to the taking of his own life, Lizard held the weapon in one hand and attempted to descend the stairs, his other hand gripping the railing like a steel trap.

Perhaps if he timed it right, he could take the bastard out while he or she entered the house. For all he knew, the intruder was a fellow hunter, or an excellent shot in general. Lord knew Lizard was not nearly fast enough to go running around the house, looking for a safe place to clip his new target from. As long as the little shit did not catch him while he was still on the stairs, he would be—

Lizard knew he should not have trusted those damn unsteady legs.

Mind focused on the intruder, he lost his footing on the next step and he fell. The rail separating from his fist, he tumbled onto the next two steps, landing square on his ass. Not bothering to suppress the sharp groan of pain and irritation, he gritted his teeth and tried desperately to focus on the oncoming trespasser who must have heard the commotion.

Lizard was firing his gun before he could think and as the body fell, he wondered for a split second that perhaps it really was Three Finger. As the smoke cleared from his vision, he finally saw the details of the figure which had only seconds ago been standing in the doorway. Already wounded, the adolescent girl lay in a crumpled heap on the porch, her face obscured by a red coat. The coat lacked a hood, but the similarity to another prone young figure was still too chilling.

“AUGHH…” Lizard doubled over as he cried out, clutching his belly. The little one inside squirmed again, as though to prove a point.

“Fuck… fuck… oh fuck…” he groaned, refusing to move from his position on the stairs. It hurt too much to move. The sensation traveled to his spine and across his belly, and he felt the muscle there go rock hard with another searing stab of agony. When the cramping faded, Lizard tried to sit up straight and was rewarded with a peculiar twinge within him. He stood on shaking legs and watched the thick fluid practically pour out of him.

“Oh, that’s just great.”
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To be continued...