The Wicked Wahine: A Supernatural Story

Once upon a time, on the little Hawaiian island of Maui, a curious caucasian tourist entered what appeared to be a dark and rundown bar in the middle of Waikapu town. The crackling pink neon light above the door said: The Wicked Wahine.

As soon as his loafers crossed the threshold, an odd chill ran through his body--a strange tingling sensation that ran from his toes to his head and then back down, lodging itself in his groin.

By nature an observant kind of guy, his senses immediately picked up few things: The small room was empty except for four young, beautiful Asian girls standing around the bar and a haggard old woman chain-smoking thin black cigarettes behind the counter. A strange mixture of seafood, days-old grease, smoke, sweat and sharp perfume filled the air. The women squawked at each other in a language that his ears found abrasive, yet somehow captivating. The music that filled the room was generic pop without the vocals. For some reason it reminded him of cheap plastic. Karaoke?

He stood just inside of the doorway trying to process what his senses were relaying to him. His gut reaction was that he should do a 180 and hightail his white-ass back to the resort, to the “matrix” of his vacation--staged luau’s, palm trees, watered down maitai's and lots of chlorine.

His dick had other plans though.

So, against his better judgment, he cleared his throat, officially entered the Wicked Wahine and slid into what appeared to be an old diner booth--red and cushiony vinyl.

He felt awkward--the bar didn’t give off the vibe of a place of business. He felt more like he was sitting in a stranger’s living room--stared at and uninvited. He needed a drink. Fuck Maitai's. Vodka--straight. Heineken Chaser. Three of each. Please. Now.

The old woman from behind the bar shuffled up to his booth. She wore a faded Hawaiian print mu’umu’u and royal blue flip-flops. The melody of Tiffany’s “I Think We’re Alone Now” (without the Tiffany) played out of scratchy speakers. She carried a golden plastic cup filled with ice water in one hand and a pack of cigarettes in the other. Her lips were dry and there were deep vertical wrinkles above her top lip that came from decades of pursing themselves around a...smoke?

He suddenly felt a little disoriented. Where exactly was he anyway? Waikapu--he vaguely remembered reading something about this town online somewhere when he was planning his vacation. He got the feeling that whatever it was that he read wasn’t positive. He just couldn’t...quite remember. Waikapu--didn’t it translate to “forbidden water” or something?

She set the cup in front of him with a clack and a splash.

“You like wash clothes?” She asked him in a raspy voice. Her English was broken. Maybe he misunderstood her. Before he could figure out a polite way to ask her to repeat herself, she broke into a phlegmy cackle--her rheumy eyes watering.

He wanted to leave. He didn’t. When all else fails, request alcohol.

“Vodka?” Everyone knows that word right?

She gave him a rough pat on the shoulder as if she appreciated the fact that he proved to be so amusing.

“Ne, ne...first you get girl first,” she said as she wiped the tears of laughter from her leathery face.

She called out unintelligible names in her foreign language and shuffled back behind the bar.

Things got strange fast.

One, two, three, four girls slid into the booth next to him.

He was to call them (the women that he would remember years from tonight as “those freaky-asian-succubus-whores”) Tammi, Sherilyn, Tina and Mimi. Of course, these weren’t their real names, but then again at the Wicked Wahine, real names didn’t really matter.

“You buy me drinky?”

“Ne, he buy me drinky!”

“You buy me drinky, yes?”

There was bickering and foreign hissing between the women. He was instantly reminded of beautiful Beta’s--fighting fish that were exotic, flamboyant, colorful and deadly.

Fascinated, it was in the background of it all that he became vaguely aware of the faint pitter-patter of raindrops beginning to fall on the aluminum roof overhead.

Slap! Out of nowhere, the old woman put a quick stop to the symphony of alien tongue by shuffling up and striking her dry open palm onto the tabletop.

His water spilled. The girls watched it rush then trickle--dripping onto the filthy slick carpet the way one watches droplets of blood fall from a pricked finger.

Slap! The old woman did it again. All eyes fell on her.

“Rain!” she hissed, pointing her burning cigarette to the ceiling, “Rain!”

There was excited murmuring between the women. He felt, with a tad of relief, like he had disappeared. He was invisible to them. He was aware that their attention and harshly whispered dialog focused on the girl who called herself Tina. Black haired, kohl rimmed almond eyed, slim waisted, fleshy lipped, mounds of white titties popping out of a lycra hot-pink halter top Tina.

She did not look pleased. The rain began to fall harder.

The murmuring in the dark room grew in intensity.

Tina shook her head violently and crossed pale and delicate arms under her bosom. Her jaw suddenly seemed bigger, more masculine. She set it in a firm, tight line that radiated the word “no” with stubborn finality.

“Saw-dool-law, Saw-dool-law!” The old woman shouted. She waved her bony arms toward Tina--cigarette smoke hung in the air like floating runes, “Jee-gum ee-yah!”

Hurry up, hurry up. The time is now.

He watched as Tina flared her nostrils. The image of a she-dragon flew across the borders of his rational mind. She muttered something that he thought sounded extremely unfriendly to the old woman, who simply shrugged and cackle-coughed in return.

She turned toward him. As she squinted her heavily-outlined almond eyes at him in a glare, the she-dragon reappeared. It circled his brain and blew long, searing blades of fire through his consciousness.

He instantly felt the feeling that you feel when you realize that you’ve had a little too much of a little too much of much--the sixth shot, the third hit, the fifth drag.

It didn’t occur to him that he should still be sober.

Without warning or prelude Tina roughly pulled the elastic fabric of her top down under her right breast-- her plump ivory titty did a little upward “boing” before it settled into the makeshift shelf of the lycra.

He blinked twice and cleared his throat.

“Drleenk”, she commanded him.

He didn’t understand what she meant, and besides, the sight of her cherry red, pert-as-a-little-mushroom nipple pointing right at him was rather distracting.

He sat very still, looking foolish, staring at her tit.

“Drleenk, drleenk!” she commanded again. She cupped her breast in a death grip that was oddly accented by mother-of-pearl colored acrylic finger nails and jiggled it, “Drleenk!”

The more she jiggled, the more his crotch tingled.

The old woman pulled his ear violently making him lurch forward placing the lashes of his left eye less than an inch away from her breast.

“Dr-ink! Dr-ink!”, the old woman pronunciated in an exasperated tone, “Now! Her teat, drink her teat!”

Tina, evidently sick of waiting for him to get the picture, rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, grabbed him by the chin and shoved her hard, rosy nipple into his mouth.

The old woman nodded her approval which made the wrinkled folds of her neck fold in and out like an iguana. She shuffled over to the jukebox, pulled two quarters from the rusted coffee can sitting on top, plunked them in, hit a button and then hit repeat.

Drum machine, synthesizer, the pseudo-raspy voice of George Michael: I Want Your Sex over scratchy speakers.

Tammi, Sherilyn and Mimi clapped and cooed their approval.

In another space and time he would have found the scene as ludicrous as it truly was--but not tonight.

He tentatively flicked his tongue over Tina’s nipple. Her skin smelled like coconuts. He flicked his tongue again and was rewarded with a drop of creamy liquid. It was on flick of the tongue number-five that he realized exactly what the pearly fluid tasted like: pina colada poured with Captain Morgan’s Private Stock--spicy and rich on his taste buds.

Tina-Colada served fresh from a tittie, he thought, Ingenious and delicious.

Simultaneously the room shrank in around him (he was oddly reminded of a Space-Bag infomercials), and he became aware that at some point in the past 45 seconds, his penis had become unnaturally hard.

I have been poisoned. I have been poisoned while on vacation by strange women. The thoughts in his head seemed watered down and dull--his realization unimportant.

It had been 37 long years since he had been force-fed a boob, and by God did he miss it.

He worked the drug from her breast like a thief until it flowed rich, sweet and intoxicating. He took it down his throat like a baby bird takes food into its gullet; or like a porn star guzzling cock.

Tammi, Sherilyn and Mimi began to strip off their clothes--a denim skirt here, a purple demi-bra there...long legs, short legs, a round vanilla-icecream bottom popping high in the air as tight black jeans are stripped off...nipples, nipples, nipples, six different nipples...cunts...three cunts--two with tufts of soft black pubic hair, and one shaved as bald as a newborn lovebird.

He watched the naked women begin to touch and lick and suck and poke at each other with the same distracted curiosity that a nursing babe has while watching the colors and shapes in a mobile spin above it’s mothers head.

The rain poured down.

Mimi (the one with the hairless pussy) came up for a breather from between Tammi’s long sweat-slicked legs. Tammi’s whimpers of protest were muffled and lost in Sherilyn’s hairy little cunt.

The vibration of Tammi’s voice, or perhaps simply just her whimpers caused Sherilyn’s purple nipples to harden into sharp points. In return, she road Tammi’s face faster. Her powerful thighs flexed as she dipped her chubby pussy down, like inking a quill, over and over again onto Tammi’s waiting tongue.

George Michael, one would assume, still wanted his sex.

Mimi patted the dripping lips of her mouth dry with a bar towel, flung her straight knee-length blue-black hair over her shoulder and sauntered towards the tourist.

The look in her black eyes was playful, her grip dead serious, as she grabbed for his iron hard penis beneath his khakis.

She wedged her long, thin pointer-finger into his mouth (which was still firmly attached to Tina’s boob) and plucked sharply at its corner.

The reluctant detachment of mouth from boob sounded like a rubber boot pulling out of mud.

Tina-Colada dribbled down his chin.

Tina immediately snapped her top back into place, cracked her neck from left to right, smoothed her skirt, slid from the booth and relocated to a rusted fold-up chair in the corner.

She conjured a nail file out of thin air and began to whittle at her fingers.

Mimi unzipped his fly and skillfully freed his throbbing penis. It was roughly twelve inches long.

His eyes met his dick bulge-for-bulge in the “bigger than they had ever been” department. He didn’t have time to contemplate how his normally average sized member had grown to pony-cock proportions in a matter of seven and a half minutes of bad-pop-song because Mimi frowned.

What kind of woman frowns at a foot-long penis? He thought.

She made an irritated “hmphing” sound and spun towards Tina.

“He too small”, she said in a breathy, childlike voice that was so very Mini Mouse meets Marilyn Monroe.

The sound made his scrotum ache in a very pleasant way.

Tina gave a nonchalant shrug and kept filing.

Mimi pursed her lips in a second of thought and then turned her attention back towards him. She expertly spun her silky hair into a knot on top her head, the remaining length of it trailing to her waist, and took a deep breath.

The action reminded him of a potter pushing up her sleeves, or a doctor snapping his gloves-- a simple ritual to prepare herself for whatever it was that she did.

The air from her pursed lips felt warm and alive.

Deep breath, the rain came down in torrents.

“Huffwhooooooooooooooooooooooooooo”

He looked down at his humming dick and was astonished to see that with each gust of air that she pushed from her lungs he seemed to grow another inch.

Fourteen, fifteen, sixteen...

Tammi wiggled over and slipped his khakis off while Sherilyn came up behind him and ran her hands over his shoulders and down his chest--nails teasing nipples over his polo shirt.

Tammi tugged at this shoes and socks and then proceeded to roll her pointy nipples between his toes.

Twenty-one, twenty-two...

His dick was 37 inches of quivering pink flesh by the time the blowing stopped and the festivities began.

The girls began to dance and sing:

Giant dick, giant dick, no let in

Girl never know where it been

Lick it, suck it, juice it give

Save it, swallow it, long we live

The tourist was just beginning to think that their strange song reminded him of the Three Little Pigs when Tammi turned her back to him and swung a mile-long leg over the base of his cock. Arching her back into an exaggerated curve, she nestled her warm, wet, sticky pussy down onto his shaft.

“Get ass” and “Fuck pussy” were two of the few phrases that he was currently capable of processing.

He gripped her hips and slid her, face forward, towards the tip of his cock.

He pulled her back until her round butt was flush against his pubic hair.

He pushed her forward again--her pussy glided down his shaft, her thighs squeezed.

Sherilyn faced Tammi and straddled his cock--when he pulled Tammi back she would push her ass out behind her, pussy lips spreading and swallowing the upper half of his head. When he pushed Tammi forward, she would thrust her powerful hips forward and grind her mound against the other woman’s.

Again and again, over and over until all three of them were covered in sweat--the only sounds coming from their throats were growls, gasping and the occasional “aiyee”.

When he thought that there was no sensation on earth that could possibly be more pleasurable as two naked Asian women riding your 3 foot long dick, it got better.

Mimi undid her hair and spun it around her wrist until she held a feather-duster like spray of it in her hand. She knelt in front of him and began to lick at his head, steamy pink tongue slipping and darting and caressing him, while she stroked the underside of his cock with hair that felt like silk.

“Fuck” was now the only word that he was capable of processing.

His eyes rolled around the room. Every cell in his body buzzed and vibrated with a supernatural frequency.

His eyes found Tina in the corner. She was still filing her nails, but now she had her feet propped up and her knees spread wide. Her skirt was hiked to her hips, panties pushed aside. The old woman fucked her hard with a curved black dildo.

He watched as Tina’s cunt took the ominous looking sex-toy. He groaned as he saw the wetness drip out of her cunt and pool onto her seat.

Tammi and Sherilyn cried out in orgasm. The rain slapped at the roof with the sound of a hundred-thousand metal pellets hitting their target. George Michael got louder and louder--a crescendo of pleasure and sound and water and...

He exploded. It felt as though his body would shrivel in on itself as the most intense climax that any man has ever experienced hit him. His body shot off of the bench as gallon after gallon of semen launched like a group of missiles from his cock.

The women were drenched in his sticky, hot, living come. They licked it from each others bodies and poured what they could into dark glass bottles.

He struggled to remain conscious as he watched Tina stand and take one of the filled bottles from the girls. She knelt before the old woman, kissing her craggily old toes and and held the bottle up as what looked like an offering.

The old woman grasped it in trembling hands. While gently uncorking it, she began to chant:

Water of your flesh, water of your soul, forbidden water.

The old woman repeated her chant three times and then took his come down her throat like one would swallow a shot of bourbon.

She clutched her stomach and fell to her knees. A transformation was taking place. A beautiful, blinding transformation.

The last thing that he remembered seeing before he passed out into a sea of blackness was Tina’s eyes soften and her teeth flash behind a smile.

She had a beautiful smile.

The sun burned right through the tourist’s eyelids. Dehydrated, he felt extremely dehydrated. He opened crusty eyes and found himself sprawled in a small, overgrown lot behind a ramshackle building.

Where in the hell am I? He thought.

He struggled to his feet--his head pounded, and his loafers were missing.

He stumbled to the front of the building and read the splintery sign that hung above the door.

“Waikapu Washerette” was painted in neon-pink flaking letters.

An uneasy feeling washed over him. He tapped his forehead with his palm to try to jar the memory that was causing anxiety to well up in him from his brain.

He jumped when the door to the washerette creaked open and a beautiful young Asian girl with black eyes and a playful smile opened the door. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

She threw his loafers at his feet.

He stood there, stunned and confused.

She took a long drag off of a thin black cigarette and eyed his filthy khakis.

“You like wash clothes?” she asked in a voice that was too raspy for her flawless body.

Vivid flashbacks of the Wicked Wahine slammed into him like a linebacker.

He remembered. He remembered it all.

His mouth opened and closed without forming words. The flashbacks had left him as mute as a guppy.

She gave him a rough pat on the shoulder as if she appreciated the fact that he proved to be so amusing.

An old woman came up behind him carrying a load of laundry. She muttered incoherently as she bumped her way past him into the building.

The beautiful girl nodded an acknowledgment to the old woman and slammed the door in his face. He could hear her laugh travel throughout the washerette.

In a panic, he unzipped his fly to validate that his penis was still there--that everything was normal and all right-- to prove to himself that he was just temporarily insane.

Last night was just a weird hallucination that is lingering, he told himself. I have a normal sized dick and had an allergic reaction to the alcohol, that’s all.

He pulled out his cock and had a moment of immense relief when he saw that, yes, everything was okay.

He looked closer and began to feel dizzy. Very, very dizzy. The whole world spun around him.

His flaccid penis was covered in thousands of silver stretch marks.

He heard the cackling laugh behind the washerette door become hysterical.

He zipped up his pants.

Inside, a girl named Tina and the beautiful girl who threw him his shoes began to make love...