The parties separated in the full knowledge that only a handful could hope to come together for a last desperate and outnumbered attack on the harem. Meteora led her group through the rank sedges and rushes that indicated the approach to the swamps, her girls in single file behind her, fell-boots padding along a path that grew rapidly soft, soggy and slimy. Deeper and deeper they penetrated into a land of mango and fever trees hung about with Spanish Moss, twisted, writhing, gnarled trunks and arms that seemed to embody the souls of tribegirls who had attempted this journey in the past. A haze hung over the brown stagnant water that stood in pools and puddles, green and swirling, methane and marsh-damp, it choked in the tender throats of the young warchicks. Further they went, now sweating in the densely humid and oppressive atmosphere that was the swamp’s own ecosphere. Fear also ran through sexy slender bellies as they failed to see what was around them, so dense now was the almost impenetrable mist. Their slim ankles were stained peaty brown from the slimy waters through which they marched, their hide boots sodden with the ferrous waters that swirled around their elegant feet. All sounds had ceased; the sedge was withered from the lake and no bird sang. Rotting vegetation stank in their nostrils; hideous fungoid growths splashed in leprous colours on trunks and stumps of half-submerged trees. Branches twisted their clawing twig-ends towards them. Panic began to spread through the group like a plague.

Meteora held up her hand imperiously. ‘Ahead…there…through those swamp-bushes…a figure…’ Those babes near her strained to see ahead and through the miasma that reeked from the filthy bogland. Yes! It was a figure…human? Looked like it…female, too, by the shape of the body…and, yes, the swing of naked tits. Its skin seemed a rusty red, well-fitted to the peaty waters that fermented all around them. ‘After her! Take the bitch! She can be made to guide us out of here!’ snapped the leader. Overwhelmed by relief that escape was possible, delirious with the prospect of freedom from the stench and terror of the swamp, arrogant in their supposed superiority to this sub-woman who was loping ahead of them, the Hailstonez raced in pursuit of their prey. Long braided tresses whirled out in ribbons of silk behind their glitzy silver helmets as the near-naked babes sprinted and leaped in their pursuit of their intended victim. But sky-worshippers were at a loss in this intricate labyrinth of dank vegetation and treacherous puddles of silted sand. The red-skinned slut was seen jumping over some dried sedge and a Hailbabe vaulted high over the reeds to cut her off. With a frightening howl she landed on a gnarled stake that jutted from the rust-coloured waters of the swamp. Her wiggling body sank lower and lower down its blood-drenched bark as her weight bore her further into the slimy ooze that lapped at her convulsing haunches. The wooden branch thrust its twisted length from the sad slut’s back as she shrieked in her appalling pain, sliding swiftly down the killer spike of rock-hard tree into the slowly staining waters, smoky-red with her pumping life-blood. She splashed and thrashed in the scarlet- slicked slime, wounded deep in the belly, her face hidden by her silver mask, only her croaking mouth, drooling blood down her chin, showing the torn truth of this poor tart’s end. At last she slithered down into the waiting waters that closed over her gargling and kicking form in a merciful death and a stream of red bubbles.

But the lesson of this cheeky bitch’s demise was not learned by her sisters who continued in their helter-skelter chase of the lissome young swamp-dweller. The Bogbitches were a tribe so steeped in the sickly slime in which they lived that they knew every twist and turn of their squalid home. Skin stained rust-red and virulent green from the minerals in the sludge in which they dwelt, they let their long hair grow tangled and locked, knotted and clotted with mud. Totally nude, they were the fastest and, almost, the nastiest creatures in the stench-hung marshes. The chick who was racing ahead of the Hailbabes knew her part precisely: she would wear down their numbers and strength until the surviving few could be hunted down by her sisters on their captive swamp-beasts and their carcasses kept for future feasting in the steaming and lurid waters of the brackish creeks that threaded the heart of the marshlands. Again she showed her willowy body, her long, mud-streaked elf-locks flashing in the poor light. Again a smug Hailbabe made a dart across a clump of brittle rushes and found her lower body being sucked into a wide patch of unrelenting quicksand. It was thick and clinging as it drew her lovely body into its maw, slowly pressing against her crotch and hips to pull her into suffocating and terrible death. She yelped in her panic. ‘Ahhhhhiiiiiiii!!!!’ Threshing her arms and bare upper body only drew her down more swiftly into the all-encompassing sludge, stinking and slicked with slime. ‘Please! Pease…oh..please! Help me!!!’ she shrieked again and again, her squeals echoing in the eerie silence of the swamp. Her sisters could only stare in stunned silence, none daring to venture a hide boot onto that treacherous surface. Only one chick made a move, a mere teenage babe who had longed to possess the girl’s body for months now; hoping to win her body and her love she slipped out on her belly across the treacherous sucking surface of the sands. The girl’s mouth was now level with the quaking surface of her killer. Her arms, smeared with sticky sand, reached out in panic for the slowly sinking chick whose own fingers were now in reach. The first babe made a huge effort and surged out to the level of her nipples. She clung to the teenchick’s wrists and dragged her would-be saviour towards her. Now she flopped onto the girl’s upper body, forcing her screaming mouth down into a slimy sludge that filled her nostrils with stinking mud. Her screams intensified and then were choked off as the thick and soft sand flowed into her lips. The first girl scrabbled at the young warrior’s body, clutching her crotch and pulling herself up; the rescuer’s long mud-stained legs lifted high and kicked feely as the floundering Hailchick pushed her further down into the sands in her desperate effort to break free of their clammy embrace. The legs stopped kicking and sank swiftly beneath the first girl’s weight. Now she too felt herself sucked in after her rescuer, her throat constricted by the lapping, claggy sands.Her helmeted head disappeared, her black braided hair fanning out on the gooey surface as it was dragged down strand by strand, and only a bare war-painted arm, the hand reaching and clawing desperately at the empty air, was seen above the yellow surface. Soon her agonized and writhing fingers were sucked under and she was gone.

Now the Hailchicks seemed to have learned their lesson. More cautiously they placed their thong-tied hide boots on firm ground, looked always at the texture and consistency of what lay at their feet. And so a third slut met her end. She nudged with her pale bare arm a branch that overhung the path. At once a coiled hamadryad darted its fangs into her slender neck, puncturing her sweaty skin, embedding its deadly venom in her veins. The thick, poisoned blood oozed down her throat as she lurched in dizzying pain, her hands clawing wildly at her pierced skin. Staggering and blinded by pain and the toxin, she stumbled over a root and splashed into a salt-slick that embraced her convulsing body until her splashing fell still and only her silver chainmail tangas and long white legs were showing above the rippling surface, stained murkily with her urine. The Hailbabes stood silent. A quarter of their number had perished in less than five minutes and before them lay a great pool, green with rotting algae, hung with a mephitic miasma, dotted with decaying tree-stumps. There was no way back; no way around. Meteora swallowed hard and led her remaining companions into the waist-deep and filthy waters. If they could be called waters: they were crawling and they stank, more like a sleazy slime than water, viscous and sluggish, clinging to slim hips and staining white pure flesh with brownish-green faecal tinges. They deepened only slightly as Meteora led her eight companions on into the lake of weed and sludge. When the thick and sticky slime lapped turgidly at their proud, painted breasts the Hailbabes were shocked by the ugly horror that came at them from the overhanging trees whose tendrils dripped into the surface of the lake. Nightmare beasts, four of them, slid with easy speed through their slick and slippery element: lizard-like, iguana-headed, rows of serrated needle-sharp teeth flecked with vile saliva, skins leathery and wart-covered, tails twining and untwining behind them as they moved ever closer to the petrified warchicks. On their backs each terror carried two Bogbitches armed with tridents. It was hard to tell whether the slimy-bodied naked girls controlled them and steered them or whether they were ravening for their prey without any guidance. Two circled behind the trapped babes while the others raced straight at them. Screams of sheer panic tore the heavy and humid air as the Hail girls tried to flee. But it was like wading through treacle at blood-heat. One girl’s screams ended in a high whoop as a trident gored her back, the tines digging through her body to protrude from her painted boobs. The Bogbitches struggled to land their prey, to drag her up beside them but their steed had a mind of its own and darted off to seize a helmeted babe with its twelve feet of powerful and sticky tongue. The girl’s throat was circled by lurid green flesh, stinking of old meat and she spewed in disgust as it tightened and cracked her vertebrae almost instantly. Her floppy form was pulled relentlessly into the fanged jaws of the monster and her lower half fell gorily from its thin lips as it chopped her in half. As it paused to chew her torso to shreds its riders managed to heave their dying prey onto its back. ‘Oh, fuck, you bitches,’ she moaned, ‘let me die in peace…’ The Bog sluts laughed. ‘Oh, we will, little girl, an’ then you’re our supper..’ All the last breath in her lungs tore out in a last wavering plea of ‘Nooooooooooooo!!!’ and she slumped in death over the scaly hide of the Bogbitch steed.

Meteora dived under the jaws of the advancing second beast, planning to bring her blade up into its throat; her bedmate, Luna, joined her in the dive under the weed-streaked surface. The remaining Hailchicks wailed in an agony of loss as they saw two great pincer-like claws surge from the drooling and frothing slime, each holding a wriggling and choking girl, crushing and tearing her defenceless nudity in a grip of steel. Luna’s back snapped with a sudden crack and her upper body, her breasts slashed by the claws, flopped like a rag doll over the hideous bony pincer. Meteora kicked wildly, hacking at the claw with her useless short sword. She gasped rather than screamed as her rib-cage disintegrated like a walnut shell and she hung limp and lifeless in the hazy green air. Only five babes remained and two monsters were coming at them from behind. The riders of the creature that had taken out Meteora and Luna speared one slow-swimming chick in the small of the back, losing her to their feast as she turned turtle and sank in a billow of her own pouring blood, reaching out to them for help and hearing only their depraved laughter. Two of the last surviving Hailstonez were skewered by the cunning Bogbitches and slung like flapping fish across the slimy backs of the beasts. One of the remaining two chicks flopped in her despairing struggle through the thick and fetid slime that was the lake, moving through what seemed like the fronds of thick water-weed. They clung to her pale and slinky legs; she kicked to get free and squealed hideously as a frond wrapped its suckers around her ankle and calf, tugging her down. It was fortunate that she could not see the squid-like beast that was drawing her open-legged and twisting figure towards its sucker-lined mouth. It was good that she could not see the powerful orifice clamp viciously on her crotch. Then the bubbles soared from her wide-open lips as she screamed in pain, her intestines being sucked out through her quim like slippery spaghetti, the red tentacles claspingly entwined around her painted breasts and tightening round her throat to finish her off. The last girl, screaming her lungs out, fell victim to the snapping jaws of one of the beasts. It turned itself round as she ducked from it and with a contemptuous snap it tore off her helmeted head. Attracted by the gushing founts of hot blood the fourth, unsated, lizard-beast swerved from its course and rushed at its fellow. Finding no tasty body in the slime it reared in its rage and swung its gaping jaws at the two laughing sluts on its peer’s back. The leading Bogbitch saw nothing until a set of spiny teeth crunched on her swinging naked green breasts, chomping her in two. Her companion yelled in her fury and thrust her trident hard into the creature’s cold saurian eye, piercing its tiny but malevolent brain. Its thrashing cadaver became prey for its mates and the Bog dwellers swam off with their three delectable dead dainties, making for their underwater lair and their own ghastly feeding frenzy. Twelve of the allied warchicks would never see the citadel.