Lock Croc And Two Smoking Barrels

Chapter 1: Don't Croc the Boat

If Michael had known his future would have involved rowing a boat... he would have definitely worked more on his upper-body strength. Those crew jocks he remembered from high school all seemed to be practicing for something that would never be useful, like learning how to apply a mustard plaster or stealing cable.

But here he was, in the middle of a swamp in very southern Florida, propelling an eight-foot rusting aluminum row boat through the muck of the Florida swamp. His provisions were dwindling: his backpack, which was the only reason he was out here, a few granola bars in his pockets, his canteen half-full of fresh water, and his Swiss Army knife. He also had his phone, which he had somehow retrieved from the swamp after dropping it in while foolishly trying to get a signal. He hoped it would work again, if it would ever dry in this humid air.

Without his phone, which served triple-duty as a GPS and music player, he had to use the compass on the obverse of the Swiss Army knife to keep himself going south. Surely, he'd find what he was looking for eventually. Over the last few hours, he had learned the finesse of propelling this boat between the many skinny trees, overgrown grass, weblike kelp and whatever else was under the water's surface.

The sun was starting to set, the swamp sky growing golden and the trees cutting shadows through the mists like long fingers. Michael couldn't keep this up much longer. He had to find some form of land to tie the boat to so he could maybe get some shuteye, if the boat wouldn't capsize the first time he rolled over in his sleep.

The trees seemed to give way to a small clearing. At first, Michael thought he was seeing a mirage that had been mistakenly delivered to him in the swamp instead of someone trapped in the desert. There was a square hut with a thatched roof out of the water, set on a tiny dock made of branches. It looked like something out of Disney World, but if he was so far off-course that he'd landed in Orlando, he would definitely have to get a new compass.

Standing on the dock was a woman, almost entirely backlit by the sunset. She looked tall and leggy, wearing what looked like overalls with nothing under them, the bib pressed outwards by her breasts. She had a straw hat covering her head, but nothing else could be seen except her pleasing silhouette.

Michael called out to the figure, waving his arm over his head. The woman seemed to move, but something moved behind her, a weird third leg sweeping behind her, between the first two. Michael had thought of her as 'leggy' not a moment ago. Was she so leggy, she had three legs the way a Jeep would carry a spare tire?

The woman's hands came to her chest, unfastening the buckle on both sides of the bib. Once the bib was free to slide down her breasts, it quickly dropped off the rest of her body into a pile on the deck. The woman's figure was as pleasing as he suspected might it be under the unflattering overalls.

She took off her large sun hat, setting it on a pier hook near her door. She didn't appear to have any hair, unless it was all tied back in a ponytail. He still couldn't make out any of her features. By the time he held one hand up to the sun to see her more clearly, the woman had jumped into the water. Michael leaned over the edge, looking for her, but nothing was visible in the muddy water, rendered even more opaque as she swam underneath and disrupted the sediment.

Michael waited for a few seconds, craning his head around, waiting for her to resurface. It would be a silly thing for her to do to simply hop into water and drown. He shrugged, took hold of the oars again and started to sweep them through the water, hoping to approach the dock.

The right oar snagged on something under the water. He jerked the oar around, trying to get it free, but it was quickly wrenched out of his hand, disappearing into the water like a coin in a well.

He leaned over the right edge of the boat, waiting for the oar to float back to the surface. The left oar was now being pulled by something. Michael brought both hands on it, trying to keep it from being pulled under. He jerked it free from the water, snapping the rowlock holding it in place.

Michael looked at the blade end of the oar and found a seven-inch circular piece ripped out of it. It looked like a shark had taken a bite out of it. Michael tried to propel the boat with the damaged oar, inching closer to the dock. The fore of the rowboat was almost at the dock when the boat came to a sudden halt. A scaly hand, dark gray and olive green, thin webbing between each finger, had grabbed the back of the boat.

The boat wobbled as Michael jumped to his feet, grabbed his backpack and barely climbed out of the boat before the hand jerked the boat to the side. Water started to pour over the edge of the boat and it was quickly dragged under the water to parts unknown, his waterlogged phone dragged down with it.

A few bubbles came up from the boat's resting place. Michael just stared at them, like watching the last subway of the night disappear down the tunnel. He sat down on the deck, dumbfounded. If he thought he was hopelessly lost before... now he didn't even have a boat.

Michael looked at the overalls the woman had shed before jumping into the water. He held them up by the shoulder straps, noticing a big hole just above the rear. It was too high to serve the obvious function, so why was it there?

He was very soon to learn why. Something burst out of the water like a dolphin, jumping and landing on top of Michael, knocking over onto his back.

Did he use the simile 'like a dolphin?' No, that wasn't the right word. All this woman's skin was gray-green and covered in scales of varying size. Her fingers and toes were tipped with black claws, and the heavy scales on her back tapered down to her tail as long as her legs.

The woman grabbed Michael's hands and held them still as she brought her head to his. She had no hair at all, no nose but for a small protrusion above two nostrils, and mottled green eyes with vertical slits. She had lips, but they were pulled back to reveal her many sharp teeth.

Michael screamed as this cold mutant pinned him down, dripping nasty swamp water all over him, hopefully concealing that he's probably pissed himself. Apparently, there was something more scared than "so scared you pee your pants," and that was not being sure. He was too scared to fight back, afraid if he made one wrong move, this thing would take a bite out of his throat and the last thing he would see was the lenticular membrane quickly moving into place over her eyeballs as she blinked.

"Why are you here?" She snarled, a gentle hiss always present behind her voice.

"I got lost." Michael confessed. "I didn't know this was your swamp. I'm so sorry. I swear, I didn't litter or anything. I have my candy wrappers in my pocket, I swear."

"Quiet!" She shouted. Michael turned his head sideways, pinched his eyes shut, and started whimpering. He couldn't quite follow her command. He was hyperventilating as the mutant pressed her 'nose' against his neck, sniffing his flesh and feeling the warmth of his body.

"Let's hope you taste better than the last one." She opened her mouth, bringing it towards his neck.

Michael panicked. "Oh God, I don't want to die a virgin!!" He screamed so loud, it would have echoed if there was anything nearby for the sound to bounce off.

She stopped. He could feel her teeth resting on his throat, cold drool trickling down them onto his skin. She pulled her head back and looked him in the eye, her slits narrowing. "What did you say?"

Michael was frozen. With her lips closed, she had the face of a regular woman... mostly. "Oh God, I don't want to die?"

"After that."

A gentle blush started to appear on his face. "A virgin?"

She looked at him a little longer. She released his arms and stepped back, coming to rest in a stooped position, still standing over his legs. "No... I suppose not."

Michael found himself staring at this woman's nude body. Her belly, probably the corresponding component to the underbelly, was more yellow than green, and gently scaled. The skin was softer anywhere she would be dragging on the ground, which made her large breasts an unusual feature. The greener scales terminated around her shoulders and reappeared halfway down her bare legs. Her nipples were small and dark green. In her squatting position, he couldn't quite see anything below her waist, and how it might differ from the human girls he was familiar with.

Well, as he had just confessed... not that familiar with.

Suddenly aware what he was doing, Michael looked away... for a moment. His eyes returned to those breasts. She was making no effort to cover herself. He looked away again. And back. It looked like she was thinking of something, paying no attention to his ogling.

She stood, taking her hat off the pier hook. "All right." She put her hat on her hairless head.

Michael took a peek of her lower half before standing. It all appeared to be in the same place as a human woman's. "I can go?" He asked hopefully.

She looked at him, apparently as oblivious to her nudity as any other animal in the swamp. "You can stay."

***

Michael had spent the hour of twilight in this mutant's one-room hut. There was one window on the east side, probably the closest thing she had to a clock. The only furniture was a single cot made of sticks and covered with hay. Where she got hay in the swamp, he couldn't figure. The rest of the cot was decorated with bitten and broken oars, where he was sure his ruined oars would soon be displayed.

He looked under the bed, knowing if there was already a monster sleeping in the bed, there certainly weren't any to find under there. Michael found a few nicknacks from the human world: a hubcap, a plastic bottle, a child's beach pail for making sand castles, one of those plastic six-pack rings that marine life choke on... and something that surprised Michael enough to reach for it.

From under the bed, Michael retrieved a hair brush made of faded pink plastic. Most of the bristles were intact, but there was no hairs tangled within them. He wondered what possible use does she have for this device.

Michael heard some splashing and footsteps outside, so he quickly threw the brush back under the bed. The door opened, and the reptilian woman entered her home, water sliding off her scales. She was carrying her overalls over one crooked elbow and hanging her torn straw hat with the other. She hung the overalls on one of the oars held horizontally near the window.

Michael watched as her tail swung back and forth hypnotically, just an inch above the floor. He pictured it being dragged along inertly like a heavy parcel, but she must have significant musculature to hold that aloft at all times. He remembered in school reading about dinosaurs likely using their tails for balance. Hers was probably more useful for swimming.

There was something undeniably beautiful about this strange woman. If she was entirely human, she would be a woman of considerable pulchritude, even without a nose. She moved with the grace of a ballerina on land. In the water, she would surely drift effortlessly like a plastic bag in a wind current, or fast as an arrow, whichever the situation needed.

Looking at the large tattered sun hat she'd just hung up, he saw a single dark red band around the crown... lined with what looked like numerous human teeth, one with a fleck of gold from a filling.

Michael felt a chill creep up his spine as the reptilian woman took a seat next to him, tucking her tail to her right and bringing it to her lap, holding the tip the way a nervous date plays with their hair. "Thems are some fancy clothes you got on." She said.

Now that neither of them were screaming, he could finally place her accent. It was a combination of a slight southern drawl and French Creole. Despite the compliment, Michael's worn-out T-shirt and black slacks didn't seem that fancy to him. "Thank you." He said, not wanting to chance drawing any comparison might make her get dressed. His hand reached into his pocket and retrieved a granola bar. She looked at the shiny wrapper suspiciously.

"Do you want some?" He pulled the wrapper halfway off, revealing the oats-and-chocolatey goodness sequestered within. "Actually... are you a carnivore?"

"What's a carnivore?" She asked.

"It means you only eat meat."

"You can eat things that aren't meat?"

"Never mind." He took a large bite and put the rest back in his pocket. "When do we go to sleep in the swamp?"

"The sun's down, so... now's a fine time to sleep." She pulled her legs up onto the bed. Michael stood up. "Where you going?" She asked.

Michael turned around, the dim light of night softening her features, her tail waving expectantly in the air. He was about to leave a bed occupied by a strangely beautiful nude woman.

He sat back down and reclined on his side. The woman wrapped her arms around his torso. "You're warm..." She hissed playfully, breathing the chilly words on the back of his ear. "What's your name?"

"Michael." He said. "What's yours?"

She paused a moment before responding,"Odile."

Odile held Michael close to her, feeling his heartbeat though his shirt. She felt the cold of the night sap her energy, and she swiftly fell asleep.

For Michael, sleep didn't come so easy. The still-pervasive humidity, the orchestra of insects that were making noise outside this tiny hut, and last but not least, the mutant reptile cuddling him, pressing her breasts against his back, puffing cold air across his ear.

He did not know from whence she had come, but he had even less explanation for his full, painful, throbbing, uncomfortable, fly-straining boner.

Chapter 2: Croc and a Hard Place

The beaming sun from the roughly square-shaped hole in the wall that could charitably be called a window slowly brought Michael out of his sleep. He looked around the room. It was still the wood-and-sticks one-room building he remembered falling asleep in. Apparently, this was not a nightmare.

Michael looked down and saw the two green, scaly hands clasped intimately on his chest. He pinched her palm and moved one hand over to her side, allowing him to roll out of bed.

The slight creaking of the bed immediately brought Odile out of her slumber, craning her neck up at Michael. She gave him a squinting look, as if he'd done it on purpose, her expressing saying, 'what did you wake me up for?'

"Sorry." He said. "Didn't mean to wake you." Odile put her head down in the fold of her elbow and immediately went back to sleep.

Michael looked over this strange creature again, now in the full daylight. The core of her body, her torso, breasts, hips, appeared more overtly human than her limbs, as if the scales were the edges of a treasure map, burned away with this animal skin. Her tail gently tapped up and down on the edge of the bed, as if she was drumming her nails in her sleep. Her face...

She had no nose or hair. Apparently, those weren't the deal-breakers he thought they were. This face had inspired terror and revulsion last night, but spread out, posed like a bikini model, her unencumbered breasts shifting with the gentlest bounce as she breathed, and even a cute whistle audible over the bugs and activity in the swamp...

Michael had to turn away from her. He was confused by his own thoughts. He walked out to the small dock and looked around the swamp. There were a number moss-covered trees growing crookedly out of the swamp, several think birch trees grown up around them, and lots of exotic looking grasses struggling to grow as tall, like children reaching up in search of the baseball player's autograph.

Standing and walking around had woken something else up, as he felt his bladder contract. He still saw nobody around. This was about as close to the middle of nowhere as he ever wanted to get. Comfortable in his solitude, he undid his fly and let his wang hang out, pointing it at the water. He relaxed his muscles until he had a thought: those fish that swim up your pee, do those exist in Florida?

He held it again, looking for something solid standing out of the water to pee against. If he still had his phone, he could look up if those fish were in America... but then again, if he had his phone, he could be rescued.

Michael remembered something stored under Odile's bed. He snuck back in and very carefully removed the sand castle bucket from under her cot. Now, he was busting for a piss so bad, he didn't bother walking back out. He withdrew his unit again and pointed it into the bucket, pissing against the side so it wouldn't make the distinct noise of urinating into water.

Even the gentle, almost undetectable sound of urine hitting plastic was enough to stir Odile, and she opened her eyes to see Michael, his dick out of his pants, peeing into her property. Some might get mad if this was the first thing seen after waking up, but she said softly, "What are you doing?"

Realizing suddenly that he hadn't even turned his back on her, Michael turned in place and showed his back to her, all while still peeing into the bucket. His face lit up red, mortified.

"Is that what that's for?" She said quizzically, still not standing from the bed.

"Mostly." He said curtly. His stream of urine finally finished, he tucked himself back in his pants and tossed the urine out into the water. He gave the bucket back to Odile, who just set it down on the floor. "Wait... have you seen one of those before?"

"Oh, sure."

Michael had to know. "Um... how do I... measure up to the other ones?"

The question seemed to confuse her. "Don't know. All the other ones, I bit the whole thing off in one bite. So... they're all about the same."

Michael tensed. "So you really have eaten people before?"

"If they were in my swamp, yeah." Odile shrugged. "But that hardly ever happens, and if it does, then I eat everything I can. Arms, legs, head... brains are actually quite tasty."

The fear started to return to Michael's heart... but somehow, not the revulsion.

"What do you call that, anyway?" She pointed to his groin. "They were all very protective of it, if I went after it when they were alive. It must be important."

"It's the second brain." Michael said.

"Really? Is that why the lower part's wrinkled like brains?"

"You got it." Michael desperately wanted to change the subject. "Didn't you ever wonder why humans built cars and skyscrapers and you haven't?"

"What's a car?"

"Never mind."

Odile's head drooped back into the sleeping position. Michael approached cautiously. "Odile, are you lethargic because you didn't get to eat me?"

"Yeah..." She moaned. "I was sort of counting on having that energy."

"Go out and get some food, then." He gestured to the door. She elected to moan again instead of responding. "Are you going to sleep all day?"

"I do that sometimes." She mumbled.

Michael walked up to her, gently picking her up from the bed. She moaned in protest, but did nothing else. She was heavier than she looked, but that might be the weight of her tail. With his shoulders still aching, Michael was glad he didn't have to carry her far. He stepped out the door, to the edge of the dock. Odile rose her hand to shield the sun from her eyes, but wasn't expecting Michael to drop her into the swamp with a splash.

The water had barely settled when her head emerged from the water, an angry scowl on her face, her daggerlike teeth bared. She caught her breath, looking up at Michael, who just shrugged with a smile. She shook her head gently and swam off, the scales and scutes on her back visible as she swam off. To anyone else, if all they saw was her back, they would think there's nothing unusual about it.