Carny - October 24
Welcome to my serial Carny! I hope you enjoy this little Halloween treat. New episodes will appear every day through October.
Step right up! For just a dime see wonders beyond imagining!
And maybe we'll let you leave with your soul...
Step right up! For just a dime see wonders beyond imagining!
And maybe we'll let you leave with your soul...
Start here for October 1
October 24
Flashes of color and sound filled his memory, the carnival family staring and whispering behind their hands, Boss Willy’s stunned face, insistently scratching his thinning hair as Copley seduced him with the possibilities. “Willy, it’ll be the greatest attraction of any carnival on the circuit. They’ll come for miles! We could charge a dollar for special shows!”
Andre smelled Willy’s surrender. “The Living Devil. Yeah, that’ll set them on fire!”
Copley glanced at Andre and shook his head. “Not Devil. God. The Great God Pan.” Copley didn’t wait. “Jimmy! We need banners! Five of them, two for the entrances and more for the tent, front and sides. Make ‘em lurid…”
They gave Andre his own trailer, three of the ride jockeys displaced to a town motel until something better could be worked out. When he left his trailer, Copley made him stay out of sight. Andre was okay with that, staying backstage, learning how to walk on his new legs. He had slept dreamlessly and awakened to look in the mirror and try to understand what he had become.
Something new, yet terribly old.
He remembered things beyond his own lifetime, wine dark seas and verdant groves, the fat thighs of nymphs gripping his head as he ploughed them with his tongue, the peach butts of shepherds eager for his blessing.
That afternoon, Venus came to see him, to stare at his horns and his furred legs. He smiled wolfishly when her gaze hung on his cock, semi erect and worthy of a demigod.
She jumped when the long, red shaft emerged from the tangled thatch on his loins. He would have fucked her then and there and that would only be the start, but she backed out of the tent before he could mount her.
Still, he had smelled how wet she was and he knew it was only a matter of time.
Jimmy had finished the banners, though Andre had not seen them, and by the evening, the Great God Pan was ready for his unveiling. He hoped the canvas paintings did him justice. Copley had rigged up a tunic that left most of Andre’s shaggy chest bare and covered his cock, though Andre guessed the late night crowds might get a peak at that too, and tonight he would be the blow-off in the Gallery of Wonders, only one more quarter to see the living spirit of the Athenian age.
What would the rubes do? The show folks had accepted him quickly, but they were accustomed to strange malformations and clever deceptions. Only Copley knew the truth, and Buddy the dwarf, but even Buddy seemed to think what had happened in Doc’s cabinet was some kind of trick.
Andre – Pan – waited in near darkness on a platform behind a canvas barrier by the exit of Doc’s museum, screened from the pickled punks and the little stages where Buddy and Mina did their acts. Copley would lead the crowd back here and collect the quarters. Those who paid could step behind the panel; those who didn’t could find their own way out the way they came.
The tip was big from what he could hear, many voices, the shuffling sound of people in no hurry; Copley’s pitch weaving a fisherman’s net to pull them in.
Even behind the barrier, he felt the heat of the crowd kissing his skin, the tremble of unfocused fear plucking at his nerves.
People were such tiny beings, so simple and yet tenderest meat for his feast. A wink would buy their trust, and the few who resisted him would eventually be the marrow that fueled his eternity. When he spread his arms and stared them down, then he would know the ones worth keeping, those touched by the spark of true knowing. He smelled them, out there, almost to him now, the few who would fuck and dance and scream with the exuberance of life ripe to bursting.
They were the sweetest wine.
Waves crashed against ancient stones, virgins danced in linen shifts stained with the juices of pomegranates and plums. He tasted the richness, savored their warm flesh, his cock the lance of myth and decadence, his ass and mouth the chalice to milk the come of kings. He’d taken thousands in his seasons, pipes whistling seduction, his goatish form forbidden and alluring.
He was Pan, beyond morality, the enemy of refined civilization. He was lust and creativity and pleasure. He was want.
The skin fit perfectly, his true self once again. He didn’t begrudge his weaker human self, the face he had cast aside. Time. He just needed a little more time. He knew Copley was uncertain of the totality of the metamorphosis. He still treated Andre as though the skin might come off, as though the magic could be reversed. What would Copley do when he reached to remove it from Andre only to find there was no Andre to remove it from, only him, only Pan? What delicious chaos would follow then?
Beyond the barrier, he heard the end of the pitch. “…at tremendous risk, we went to a forest at the foot of Mount Olympus itself, where we found him and persuaded him to return with us. You know how we pay him, right?” Copley asked the crowd. “No? We give him a virgin a night. Do any of you ladies qualify?” The men and women in the tip laughed. “Last chance,” Copley said. “Just one more quarter for the most amazing thing you will ever see. Thank you, thank you.”
Coins clinked and Pan heard the crowd hold a collective breath as Copley opened the path into the space where wonder awaited. Only the shadows cloaked Pan now, as Copley wound up.
“Pan, ladies and gentlemen! The trickster, the lustful satyr of myth and legend lives among us again! Who will know his lustful kiss? Who will bow before his divine power?”
The light fell on him and the crowd – perhaps 30 people, more women than men – stood around, some of them close enough to touch him, though they drew back quickly, making worshipful space around him.
Pan regarded them calmly, his nostrils flaring at the scent of their arousal and their fear. None of them laughed now. He felt the quickening of their hearts, the stiffness in the pants of the men, the wet trickle down feminine thighs, and he laughed. Three of them he marked with his gaze and the serpentine press of his will – a pretty girl, a hard-looking matron, and a broad-chested farmer.
He would find these three later. They would come to him when the lot was dark and the shows closed.
Then he would show them pleasures unknown for more than two thousand years.
Copyright 2011 Angela Caperton. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.
October 24Flashes of color and sound filled his memory, the carnival family staring and whispering behind their hands, Boss Willy’s stunned face, insistently scratching his thinning hair as Copley seduced him with the possibilities. “Willy, it’ll be the greatest attraction of any carnival on the circuit. They’ll come for miles! We could charge a dollar for special shows!”
Andre smelled Willy’s surrender. “The Living Devil. Yeah, that’ll set them on fire!”
Copley glanced at Andre and shook his head. “Not Devil. God. The Great God Pan.” Copley didn’t wait. “Jimmy! We need banners! Five of them, two for the entrances and more for the tent, front and sides. Make ‘em lurid…”
They gave Andre his own trailer, three of the ride jockeys displaced to a town motel until something better could be worked out. When he left his trailer, Copley made him stay out of sight. Andre was okay with that, staying backstage, learning how to walk on his new legs. He had slept dreamlessly and awakened to look in the mirror and try to understand what he had become.
Something new, yet terribly old.
He remembered things beyond his own lifetime, wine dark seas and verdant groves, the fat thighs of nymphs gripping his head as he ploughed them with his tongue, the peach butts of shepherds eager for his blessing.
That afternoon, Venus came to see him, to stare at his horns and his furred legs. He smiled wolfishly when her gaze hung on his cock, semi erect and worthy of a demigod.
She jumped when the long, red shaft emerged from the tangled thatch on his loins. He would have fucked her then and there and that would only be the start, but she backed out of the tent before he could mount her.
Still, he had smelled how wet she was and he knew it was only a matter of time.
Jimmy had finished the banners, though Andre had not seen them, and by the evening, the Great God Pan was ready for his unveiling. He hoped the canvas paintings did him justice. Copley had rigged up a tunic that left most of Andre’s shaggy chest bare and covered his cock, though Andre guessed the late night crowds might get a peak at that too, and tonight he would be the blow-off in the Gallery of Wonders, only one more quarter to see the living spirit of the Athenian age.
What would the rubes do? The show folks had accepted him quickly, but they were accustomed to strange malformations and clever deceptions. Only Copley knew the truth, and Buddy the dwarf, but even Buddy seemed to think what had happened in Doc’s cabinet was some kind of trick.
Andre – Pan – waited in near darkness on a platform behind a canvas barrier by the exit of Doc’s museum, screened from the pickled punks and the little stages where Buddy and Mina did their acts. Copley would lead the crowd back here and collect the quarters. Those who paid could step behind the panel; those who didn’t could find their own way out the way they came.
The tip was big from what he could hear, many voices, the shuffling sound of people in no hurry; Copley’s pitch weaving a fisherman’s net to pull them in.
Even behind the barrier, he felt the heat of the crowd kissing his skin, the tremble of unfocused fear plucking at his nerves.
People were such tiny beings, so simple and yet tenderest meat for his feast. A wink would buy their trust, and the few who resisted him would eventually be the marrow that fueled his eternity. When he spread his arms and stared them down, then he would know the ones worth keeping, those touched by the spark of true knowing. He smelled them, out there, almost to him now, the few who would fuck and dance and scream with the exuberance of life ripe to bursting.
They were the sweetest wine.
Waves crashed against ancient stones, virgins danced in linen shifts stained with the juices of pomegranates and plums. He tasted the richness, savored their warm flesh, his cock the lance of myth and decadence, his ass and mouth the chalice to milk the come of kings. He’d taken thousands in his seasons, pipes whistling seduction, his goatish form forbidden and alluring.
He was Pan, beyond morality, the enemy of refined civilization. He was lust and creativity and pleasure. He was want.
The skin fit perfectly, his true self once again. He didn’t begrudge his weaker human self, the face he had cast aside. Time. He just needed a little more time. He knew Copley was uncertain of the totality of the metamorphosis. He still treated Andre as though the skin might come off, as though the magic could be reversed. What would Copley do when he reached to remove it from Andre only to find there was no Andre to remove it from, only him, only Pan? What delicious chaos would follow then?
Beyond the barrier, he heard the end of the pitch. “…at tremendous risk, we went to a forest at the foot of Mount Olympus itself, where we found him and persuaded him to return with us. You know how we pay him, right?” Copley asked the crowd. “No? We give him a virgin a night. Do any of you ladies qualify?” The men and women in the tip laughed. “Last chance,” Copley said. “Just one more quarter for the most amazing thing you will ever see. Thank you, thank you.”
Coins clinked and Pan heard the crowd hold a collective breath as Copley opened the path into the space where wonder awaited. Only the shadows cloaked Pan now, as Copley wound up.
“Pan, ladies and gentlemen! The trickster, the lustful satyr of myth and legend lives among us again! Who will know his lustful kiss? Who will bow before his divine power?”
The light fell on him and the crowd – perhaps 30 people, more women than men – stood around, some of them close enough to touch him, though they drew back quickly, making worshipful space around him.
Pan regarded them calmly, his nostrils flaring at the scent of their arousal and their fear. None of them laughed now. He felt the quickening of their hearts, the stiffness in the pants of the men, the wet trickle down feminine thighs, and he laughed. Three of them he marked with his gaze and the serpentine press of his will – a pretty girl, a hard-looking matron, and a broad-chested farmer.
He would find these three later. They would come to him when the lot was dark and the shows closed.
Then he would show them pleasures unknown for more than two thousand years.
Copyright 2011 Angela Caperton. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.
Posted by Angela Caperton at 10/24/2011 5:32 PM 
Categories: Horror, Carny, Angela Caperton, Erotica
Tags: Angela Caperton Erotica Carny Horror
Categories: Horror, Carny, Angela Caperton, Erotica
Tags: Angela Caperton Erotica Carny Horror
Comments