Jackabus Perfume

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
A big game hunter comes across a prehistoric animal that has made a home in a farmer's pasture. What will become of this encounter between man and beast?

Submitted: October 17, 2013

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Submitted: October 17, 2013

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Jackabus Perfume
By Sabrina Diamond


The Jackabus yawps a little before straightening her long black-spines liberally, her heavy breasts laden and heavy with every swinging gait she makes as she trots on all fours, golden fur alight. Her glinting large yet slimy fangs secrete a heavy obedience toxin that is near fatal to humans and elves alike and it looks like it had just found her next target... She roars loudly before yipping, the only Jackabus in existence as a human is alerted to the sighting of a ‘wingless Jersey Devil.’

Michael Stanford was riding in his jeep just outside the town of Memphis when Mike spotted a very strange sight of a something standing on its haunches, dark jackal head swinging sluggishly as Mike gaped at the sight of a fine animalistic specimen, it looked carnivorous but Mike wasn’t sure. He readied his tranquiliser dart as its back hind-legs ground into the soil, goat hooves keeping the creature steady. "Gods of mercy," he gasped, seeing the furry breasts bounce unnaturally, "This Jersey Devil-"
A low hearty feminine growl erupted from the Jackabus’s throat, as it didn’t appreciate being called that. Mike soon backed against his jeep, intimidated as the Jackabus narrowed its eyes at him as it swatted the tranquiliser gun out of his hands like a toy, tail swinging lowly.

The world spun out of control as Mike was hit back by a swipe of bronze claws, narrowly missing his head, the Jackabus snorts loudly before resuming its duties, patrolling the cornfield area and yipping playfully at Mike as if laughing at his confusion, its back hooves kicking the ground in jest. Mike consulted his wildlife guide as he looked at the creature in confusion.

“Body structure of a leopard, head of a Jackal complete with black ears, boobs like a goddamned human, hooves like a motherfucking goat,” Mike threw his book away, realising that his guide was near useless. The Jackabus fluttered its eyelashes at him before giving him a sticky slurp for compensation. It snarled and backed away, wary and reptilian tail swishing.

It was nearly the size of an adult komodo dragon, Mike realised as it yipped lowly as though in heat.
A splash of wetness splattered Mike as it marked its territory, the huge pseudo-penis swinging against a watered scrotum. “Is-is it like a hyena?!” he crouched lowly, trying to examine the creature, it heard Mike but ignored him, short ivory tusks glinting wickedly amongst its furry muzzle as it licked its bleeding gums, cerulean blood splattering onto the ground. Mike was clearly no match for this... monstrosity, his mouth agape at the sight. “...” he replied, wiping the urine off his t-shirt, “yuck. Maybe its mating season for this... monster.”

Its furry ears flattened at the word ‘hyena monster’ before it bared its teeth in a display of sheer ferocity. The mammalian glands lactated some kind of fluid as well, but it seemed unnatural as well as the purple tuft-seeming mane it had on its head, Mike now supposed it was a rather dangerous creature.
Michael gulps before he backed away, reaching for the pepper spray, but alas it was too quick for him and smacked the spray with her back hooves, raising her back-spines as a warning tactic against the human. He noted the way it loped towards him in a rather leopard-like fashion, even though it was unnaturally lithe in the way it stomped with its bronze claws unsheathed and back hooves clopping.
It sniffed his sharp scent liberally. Mike was more curious and approached it from about 10 metres away, it seemed to have a beastly intelligence, but it reacted to simple words like ‘hyena’ and the sight of the pepper-spray, so it seemed clearly more intelligent than it actually let on. It was toying with him, he realised, as a big-cat would hunt its prey.

“Geez, sorry!” Mike used a glass shield against his opponent, as a biologist he wasn’t used to cryptic creatures. “I know you can understand me a little, so please calm down,” It murred, a mixture between a loud purr and a canine’s whining. Its eyes narrowed to slits.  As soon as he was within vicinity it unpredictably snapped its maw at him, gold fur raised  as it suddenly arched its back and spines jabbing towards him. It was clearly a feral creature. “Are you a matriarch of your colony? Are there others like you?” It nodded its head, signifying yes. “Are you a demon?” It looked startled and it snarled lowly before shaking its head. Its icy eyes sparked before it snorted and trotted away, laughing a little.

Michael was relieved it didn’t catch him. It was indeed a close call. A few weeks later Mike received a call from the wildlife foundation about the strange creature hunting and strangling farmer’s livestock in country of New Zealand- he thought it was a good opportunity for him to record footage of the strange creature again and his partner to capture its pelt for research. He dialled a number and an ocker voice spoke up with a cockney accent.

“Brett Whitney here, whaddya want this time?” asked the harsh dingo-hunter’s voice.
“Well, according to my investigations, we have a strange female wingless Jersey Devil on the loose and its currently culling sheep down in Christchurch, where the earthquake happened.”
“How did that get all the way from your place to down here, mate?” asked Brett in astonishment.
“It’s not a demon, it’s more of an weird animal,” clarified Mike in summarisation of the creature.
“What kind of animal?” asked Brett, “kangaroo Tassie-tigers?”
“It’s a jackal-leopard-goat-puffer fish-human hybrid,” Brett laughed at the description, “about the size of a komodo dragon and its in heat so be careful. It also bites like a Tassie tiger.”
“Oh dear god, so it’s coming over here,” said someone else on the intermission. Michael looked at his notes and paused dramatically. “Wait, it could be an prehistoric Andrewsarchus mesonychid of feminine variant.”
“It’s a bloody what?” Brett spluttered in disbelief.

“Extinct hooves-wolf predator. I thought it was a Jersey Devil at first glance. Guess I was really wrong,”
“Oh gods, bloody wanker above.” Brett swore in admiration, “you did your research well, Mike old pal.”
“I guess it doesn’t take to water well due to my own observations,” Mike said wryly, making Brett laugh.
“I don’t suppose it’s one of those- good heavens I’ll have to go up against THAT?!” Brett looked it up.
“Well, thankfully it seems to be an adolescent so it’s smaller than an adult sized one,” Michael scoffed.
“Guess I’ll bring my shotgun then. It seems to like sheep don’t they? Cannibal that female is, I thought they were a herbivore? It doesn’t seem like a normal animal though from the photo analysis, has this purple mane and those... What are those big squishy humanoid boobs doing right there in that photo?!”
“Mammary glands?” offered Michael, “They are related to dolphins. Seems kinda special this one.”
“They look photoshopped onto the critter. Unreal! It’s even standing on its hind-legs like a human would.”
“I assure you those furred boobs are the real deal, Brett. No optical illusion there, even the numerous spikes upon its back seem to be made of keratin like a rhino’s horn.”
"That sounds a little dirty there Mike. Let's hope it doesn't meet the same fate as those Tasmanian Tigers."
"That all sounds a little dirty right Mike. Let's hope it doesn't meet the same fate as Tasmanian Tigers, so you want me to capture that thing or what? Kinda sad if it was the last one in existence."
“Whatever, go and capture that thing and bring a few pellets with you. We don’t want to hunt that.”

Later Brett the hunter was out looking for the Jackabus. He spotted it with wide eyes as it leapt at a buck ram, pressing its nether-regions against the pure woolly fleece as it bleated in alarm- before it promptly collapsed under the weight of the roaring Jackabus as it grinds against the sheep incessantly.
“‘Ey, stop that.” Brett aimed a net at the creature as it was distracted and it bolted away from the jeep.

“Hey, we should stop that!” Brett’s assistant spoke up, aghast at the chase scene.

The Jackabus was now straddled upon his prone form, Brett realised, it was soon penetrating his vital regions, yelping happily and the musky scent made him feel a little dirty in some ways as it snorted loudly with little fanfare, the shaggy purple mane trailing on his fine leather trousers as it ripped open a new hole into his crotch-pad. He felt that it was also laughing at his incapability to move- much less the sensation of having his organs crushed under the supporting weight of the entire beast as it humped. “Nice monster, please get off me- bloody dingo!” It shook him like a rag-doll, barking wildly all the while and scratching him with the long sharpened claws. “You are like an large dirty, unclean and mangy mutt,” he responded as the critter didn’t take his commentary all that well. He felt the dripping ivory fangs against his hands, the toxin now seeping into his very pores, the sheer size of the Jackabus was enough to crush the air out of his lungs.

As Brett watched the creature now took his neck onto its floppy flexible tongue and rolled it up like a tootsies pop, Brett heard a rather sickening snap as his stiff neck was wrenched out of alignment, making him now incapable of much movement, followed a minute later by the long incisors piercing his julgular vein, he gasped in pain as the surge gave him new adrenaline, his torn and bloody hands now being pressed against the smooth ivory tusks of the golden Jackabus as it laid upon his human form, contented as usual and unmindful of the mindlessly bleating flock that gathered around the feral beast. The sheep didn’t do anything to distract the Jackabus, it was as if instinctively they knew it wasn’t harming them now.

“G-get off me, git.” Brett managed to stutter, barely enough air to squeeze the words out, feeling the blood squetch out of his leftover organs. His lasso was hanging lifelessly at his side, a foolish mistake he made to lasso the thick muzzle of the Jackabus. The female Mesonychid was waiting patiently for the hunter, and it was just yawning contentedly to the hunter’s ire, the bloodied net was still cast over it.
The beast had now began licking its back spines, dark-furred pointy ears perking up as its distinctive mane ruffled. “You’re no ordinary animal,” Brett realised with due shock, “do you enjoy lying on humanity like you’re part of their domain?”

Silver pupils glinted narrowly and somewhat uncomprehendingly at Brett, before a low gruff chuff from it.
“Are-are you surely waiting for me to die of suffocation from your heavy weight? Are you happy now?!”
It snarled mere inches from his face, somewhat uncomprehending of word suffocation in its feral state.
It lowered its jackal-like narrow head, and soon there was a huge shattering and ripping sound that ruptured through Brett’s vital organs as he blacked out momentarily from all the blood and gutting noises... He screamed as if it would never end, even as its white tusks slashed.

Brett wasn’t sure what he saw when he came to, but he wasn’t expecting to see from his perspective some lorn limbs lying inches away from his severed nose. He reeled at the realisation of the deed. “Great fuck, what did you just do?!” He was now armless, great stumps dripping raw from severed ligaments. His stomach rolled from sheer nausea as the nameless beast now dripped much gore everywhere, the back spines slick with organic redness that only an amputated human could provide. “GAWD! Christ have mercy!” He saw his metallic trampled hunting gun smashed to pieces against a rock and flung a few metres away as though by divine hands, but there wasn’t any humans around now- except for the terrible thing just yawning inches from his face, chewing hard on the leftover cartilage of his nose... He kicked the Jackabus hard with his boots while swearing and it yelped in dazed confusion.

Oh and those terrified sheep were recently just huddling nervously in a corner as they protected a rather deformed ewe-like girl as it bleated lowly, confused as its hard hooves soon shapeshifted to human fingers, its newly shorn fleece hanging off it as though it was a warm coat. The ewe-girl bleated highly pitched, unable to form any human words as it lactated vital herbivore-milk for suckling newborn lambs.
“You’ve got my nose!” Brett gasped with renewed revulsion at the act, “Sick bastard, you deserve to go to hell!” he cursed at the Jackabus. The rail-thin Jackabus was now slightly fatter from all the mutton it had simply devoured, giving the prehistoric beast a somewhat pudgy roly-poly appearance as it licked the tusks with new enthusiasm. It looked comically rounded, a fact that Brett would laugh at if he wasn’t scared out of his mind from recent trauma, it looked quite different in reality than in those documentary.
“How much mutton does it take to feed a bloody glutton like ya?!” he wondered aloud as he saw two sheep carcass five metres away, bot-flies buzzing as the terrified farmer had discarded them earlier.
“Hey, don’t leave me there,” Brett begged the farmer as he drove his family away from the property.
“You’ve disembowelled them, right?” Brett turned to the slobbering beast as it stared back wolfishly.
The Mesonychid yipped loudly as though proud of its accomplishments, ignoring the crimson drool.
“Do-don’t you start on me,” Brett says nervously as he could have petted the Mesonychid’s luscious violet mane, but was unable to- even as the heavy humanoid mammary glands dripped precious fluids.

Brett didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he did feel comfortable being pressed against the furry underside, it felt right somehow, like he wanted to nuzzle down its velvet fur-pelt forever- but not before he ripped the pelt off, he just wanted that wafting fragrance that seemed to emanate from its very fur!
“You’re very lazy dingo-mother, aren’t ya? Probably have pups of your own, that’s why ya hunt like that.” Brett was forced to compliment, even though he was pinned down, it could have been hours. The long nipples started dribbling fluids down his face, now soaking him in thick and condensed milky lubricants.

Brett then saw the sun set down along paddock fields, his heart sank down along with his own futile hopes... If only he could reach his mobile or Smartphone and contact the hospital, then he could explain the whole situation to his friend... That was his mobile phone, but where was the phone?!

Where was it? Brett stared around the grass, then conviently there was a loud vibration note from the sheep-girl from earlier, it hiccupped and mehed in relief before trotting on all fours and nibbling grass.
“You’re not going to lie on me for hours?!” Brett said in disbelief at the creature, “you’re a wanker, a deviously smart wanker- with a fat lazy mutton-filled gizzard just waiting to spill out.” The poor hunter didn’t know what he was blathering on about but he had to keep himself occupied while waiting for any eventual help to arrive. Was he delirious from the pain, or did he just block that image out of his mind?
“Wait till I hunt you down, then we’ll see who gets the last laugh.” Her ears flattened before she snoozed, deliberately pressing Brett up against its fattened belly rather lovingly. Brett shuddered at this, was his nightmare. “... Great, lost my opportunity to move.” He glanced at his un-circulating and cramped legs.

Brett spent an uncomfortable night squirming hard against the drooling Mesonychid without much success, being forced to listen to the female beast’s heavy breathing and loud digestive churning calories of mutton as though he was under the fine neurotoxins that assaulted his senses, as though bitchy animal wanted it.
Near morning Brett was awakened by his Smartphone's tone and he opened his eyes in renewed delight, “My Smartphone!” The looming female Mesonychid opened her eyes at the source and looked around in alertness, yawning loudly before fixating its eyes on Brett instinctively. “‘Ello there,” Brett gulped rather nervously at her large fangs, it seemed to respond to the sound of his baritone voice, as though it was mildly intelligent: “That was some night out.” No response. "Look, I'm sorry about de whole thing about, ya know, putting your kind in a zoo, youse all-" the Jackabus snarled very liberally, baring curved fangs at him. It pressed a large paw against his neck, choking him. "Did I say zoo?" Brett stuttered nervously, "You're one of a kind specimen," The Mesonychid relaxed slightly at that aside comment, murring some more while licking its lengthy tusks.

Brad was closing his laboratory for the night, when he was approached from behind by a meek appearing lady with shaggy white hair and tanned dark-olive skin. “Where did you come from?” He asked the lady who didn’t answer but blinked slowly in reply at the question as she ruffled her red and gold trimmed dress. He hadn’t seen Brett for over three weeks and there was no answer except for a strange occurrence of a particular sheep herd suddenly raising strange hybrids of Jackal pups and a strain of sheep mutations. Her eyes were the most freakishly red colour ever, which made Brad suspect she was an Egyptian albino.

The lady seemed mute but danced around in dizzy spirals entrancingly, captivating Brad with a short stoic flamenco dance that flowed and caught his attention. "My god," Brad chuckled, "You dance quite well for..."
"Rurururuuru~" says the lady with a reedy flute-like voice. Brad was confused. "I… I beg your pardon?" She shushed him with her flirtiest. wink. Somehow Brad didn't call the authorities and cleared his throat deftly.

"Ah, you want something from me? Take my business card." Brad insists, suddenly the lady grabbed him and he inhaled and kissed in reflex, the stack of cards falling to the floor in post-haste. The rush of adrenaline felt good coming from her, too savoury for his tastes, but gods he liked it so much, it made him feel so unnaturally... Peculiarly horny if there was such a word for that. "Heh, a cute but mute lady." Her actions seemed fluid and suddenly there was a loud shimmer as the lady drops to her knees fluidly, the mists around the lady solidifying intensely, Brad couldn't keep his eyes off her intense blaze of an aura that she emitted. It was a black-pearl necklace she fastened around her neck deftly to complete the touch.
"Who are you and why have you come to my laboratory?" Brad asks again more uncertainly, shaking with pleasure and certain precognition. No reply, only a slow withdrawn giggle as she traces her tanned skin.

"Why not we come to the police station and talk about it?" At this she pounced quickly onto him and quicker than he could track, she undid the zipper on his pants where his large thick shaft awaited. He felt like decking her in return, but a quick tussle later and Brad shoved her to the ground, helplessly she watched... A Mesmer came onto him and he could not help throwing objects onto her. A trickle of blood falls to the ground, cerulean in colour. Brad felt disgusted over what he had done to her, he didn't know what came over him a minute ago to make him react this way towards total strangers.

"I-I'm sorry," Brad says, "I'm going to call the police now, I didn't mean to push you down like that." The lady sobs a little. "Can I help?" His voice softens slightly. "What is your name?"
"Paloma." The lady responds slowly with a soft guttural tone that sounded vaguely like German. She seemed more eager to please Brad than his own concern about laboratory safety equipments.

There was one last note scribbled in elegant cursive: Take care of things.

The next day Brad woke up in his duplex, clothes strewn on the banister. The strange lady had long left, leaving only her black-pearl necklace behind. There was only the faint smell left behind, reeking of several innumerable scents of sheep, it smelt like a barnyard had been ransacked. And one last unfamiliar scent Brad had identified and that fact alone chilled him to the core. He at last recognised why that lady was keen about him…

He had smelt of mutton.


© Copyright 2020 Sabrina Diamond. All rights reserved.

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