Be warned by Banfield

This is a short story of revenge, robbery, abuse, murder and....yes, giantism

The woman, aged 27, slim and very attractive, had a mission. She had been brutally raped as a teenager by a group of rough white men somewhere in the State of Louisiana. She vowed to get revenge - if not on the perpetrators themselves - then any white men - men that is, who shewed sexual attraction to her, men who could, in her estimation, rape a female...

She began her personal crusade of vengeance from the age of 18, and to date, had enveigled 11 men into her vengeful clutches, murdering them all in several different Southern States - Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi and Louisiana.

It was easy to cajole them into her cunning web because of her singular Negroid beauty. No matter how biased people may be, beauty overcomes...beauty and desire knows no bounderies or Grenzele. And once in her clutches, she was careful to slaughter her victims in divers ways to baffle and confuse the investigators.

We shall begin this narrative upon trapping her 12th victim, a certain Reverand D. Blake....

He was driving home along a deserted road some distance from Macon, Georgia when his headlamps caught the svelte figure of Marsha standing alone by a bus stop. She seemed distressed so, like a good Samaritan, he stopped his car and asked if she needed help.

Marsha gave some good reason for being on that road and that she was desperate to get to the nearest town. He invited her into his car and was about to start a conversation when, to his shock, she produced a gun. She made him drive off the highway and along a country lane to a heavily wooded area. As he drove deeper into the woods he begged her not to harm him: You can have everything I have," he offered, "Money, my watch, my credit cards." She ignored his offer and then ordered him to stop the car. They were in a very secluded spot without a soul in sight.

"Get out and walk round to my side," she ordered. What happened next both shocked and disturbed his religious feelings. She thumbed her trousers and knickers down and took both garments from her feet placing them on the driver's seat. She then positioned herself facing out of the car.

"You get down on your knees," she ordered pointing the gun at him steadily.

"My child!" exclaimed the 50-odd year old Reverend.

"On your knees!" she growled, her dark brown eyes blazing, "And you kiss my black cunt!"

Shocked to the core at her repulsive words, he tried to reason with her.

"I won't tell you again, mister" she snarled, "I've done killed eleven of you white trash. You wanna be the twelfth?"

By the look in her eyes, her curling mouth and the gun in her hand, he felt he had no option. He fell to his knees and leaned forward to comply to her indecent command. With great reluctance knowing that this act was an abomination, he nervously put his lips to the black woman's labia.

"You kiss me there, mister," she said in a threatening tone, "You use your tongue. Lick my black cunt...all over and then get it inside, y'hear?"

The Reverend felt the muzzle press against his temple. He fought against the nausea - never ever dreaming of doing such a disgraceful act. He felt he had no choice. There they were, out in a comparative wilderness with no one in sight who could save him from that distasteful act.

He began lapping the fleshy labia, his nostril filling with her unfamiliar aroma.

"Mmmmm....That's nice," she murmured, "You must like black cunt. Yeah, more, more. That's it, use that tongue of yours. Now inside. I wanna feel it. You find my clit....Aaaah!"

He laboured long and hard, every now and again breaking off to plead for mercy: Don't kill me. I'm a church minister. I've got a loving wife and a beautiful daughter. She's having a baby.

They'll be....

"Then you just minister to my cunt," she sneered indifferently, "I don't wanna hear 'bout your lovin' wife or daughter havin' a kid!" She pressed the muzzle harder against his head to emphasise her words.

Soon she began breathing heavy and gasping as the influence of his tongue brought on an orgasm. She further shamed him by easing herself forward ordering him to pay the same act of obeisance to other orifice. Again, repulsion filled his senses. He begged earnestly and said that his family will be expecting him home by then.

"Looka," she growled impatiently, "You do as I say, mister, or your family's not goin' to see you at all....not alive, that is."

With a sob, he extended his tongue feeling that he could never be more demeaned than putting his tongue to a female's anus - and a black female at that!

He probed the tight, crinkled aperture cringing at the sharp, metallic flavour that caught his taste-buds. He shuddered when he heard her harsh demand: Get it in, get it in! I wanna feel your tongue in my asshole so's you can taste what I got up there!"

Again he laboured long and hard with tears trickling down his cheeks, and he fervently prayed to be lifted from his wretched torment, away from that heartless Jezebel, or could she be Lilith...or she could be a reincarnation of Delilah...then again, there was that woman called Ruth who went to an enemy's camp and crept into the king's tent and cut off his head to take back to her people in a sack. He prayed that this black girl would soon be satisfied and spare his life.

Eventually she had enough, but the torment was not over. She made him, still on his knees, to open his mouth. "I wanna piss," she said, "And you're gonna be my toilet, hear?"

"Oh, no!" he wailed, "That's disgusting! Surely such a beautiful woman as you are cannot be so obscene! Please don't make me...."

"I've warned you, mister preacherman!" she growled. "I sure am losing my patience with you!

You want me to shoot you dead?"

He couldn't refuse. The gush of urine shot into his mouth and he swallowed it with sickening gulps knowing his life was in her cruel hands. Suddenly the deluge stopped. She took a capsule from her breast pocket. "I want you to swallow this," she said firmly, "Do it, or die!"

"What is it?" he whimpered.

"Don't ask, mister, just you take it," came the stern reply. Marsha pressed the capsule between his trembling lips and then continued relieving her bladder to wash it down his throat.

"You just feel lucky I don't wanna shit," she said, "I've done it before...yeah, made 'em eat it straight outa my asshole. Now you lick me dry down there."

The distraught Reverend did as he was told, his senses in a turmoil wondering what frightful effect that capsule will have on him. He was to find out as he obediently lapped the salty wetness over her labia and down to her humid anus.

Something queer was beginning to happen to him. A dizziness at first then a sense of physical weakness - a kind of lethargy. His clothes began to feel getting larger. His wedding ring slipped off his finger and his wristwatched off his hand. The black girl grew bigger and bigger. He found her crotch rising upwards and his head sinking below her slim thighs. The dreadful truth dawned on him....he was shrinking - actually shrinking! He assumed the phenomenon was due to that devilish capsule and that he was merely hallucinating; but it was not an hallucination.

Before long he was only about eight inches tall and the decreasing ceased. His head came to the level of her mid-calf. He felt the girl's hand grasp him around his body.

The passage was made easy by her viscid fluid, and like a piston she pumped him vigorously into her depths giving her the thrill of passionate intercourse and wreaking vengeance she had achieved eleven times, except that, instead of a man driving his rigid penis into her which she detested vehemently since that gang-rape - it was a man, a whole man of only 8" - a doll, a living doll.

To give full measure of her revenge she inserted the helpless Reverend into her rectum - a very tight, crushing passage and decidedly more foul. She used him excessively to assuage her long-harboured hatred of men and also to sate her sexual emotions driving him deep into her very bowel.

At last she felt her physical satisfaction. She slowly withdrew him until he emerged with a low suctioning plop. The poor Reverend was in a torpid state but still alive and very conscious of his worst ordeal; and now Marsha was ready to accomplish her final act.

She stepped from the car to a stout tree and, taking him by his legs, gave a mighty swing and split his skull against the trunk. She carelessly dropped the corpse to the ground and stepped back to the Reverend's car. Behind her an amazing thing was happening, the corpse was resuming its natural size. By the time she had dressed, pocketed his watch, ring and wallet, and drove off from the scene his shrunken body was back to normal.

Marsha sped her way to Macon where she hastily sold the vehicle to a known used car-dealer. She advised him to change the colour and number plates. He understood the inference: "Right on, Sista!" he laughed shewing his gold fillings, "It's goin'in the paint-shop right now!" They both gave high fives and she went off to catch a Greyhound bus to a fresh State - Miami where she hoped the likes of Horatio Cane wouldn't be on her case. So she must avoid Dade County.

So there you are. You've been warned. If ever you come across a dark lady in distress and you feel inclined to be a Samariton, it may well be the last charitable act you do.

Have a Merry Christmas y'all, see you in the New Year!