HERMAPHRODITUS

The world's first hermaphrodite comes to Glen Hartwell and starts screwing people to death

The gorgeous, shapely blonde wiggled her way down Chappell Street, Harpertown, in the early July morning. Looking like a beauty queen with full, cupid's bow lips, an enormous 35DD chest, an almost microscopic waist, and a perfect bubble-butt, the blonde could well have been an entrant in the Miss Glen Hartwell Pageant, which was due to be held in the middle of December 2025.

Stopping at the corner of Chappell Street and Rushcutters Road, she wiggled across to the frosted-glass double doors ....


Inside the Chandler Hotel, they had finished serving breakfast, had done the dishes, and the beds had been made. The owner, Toni Chandler, a tall, lean, nineteen-year-old redhead, and the new manageress, Piper Noel, a tall Amazonian brunette around fifty, were standing together in the smallish, jaundice-yellow reception area, talking about the upcoming guests due to arrive that day:

"A blonde woman, Hermione Aphrodite, and two men," said Toni. "Fredrick Hanson, and Morgan Marchant."

"When are they arriving?" asked the Amazonian brunette.

"Anytime now, I imagine, since the train from Melbourne should have arrived by now."

"Should have being the operative term, since the damned train is rarely less than an hour late."

"Don't exaggerate, Piper," said the new waitress-cum-maid-cum-general dogsbody, Tina Teasdale, a short, pretty eighteen-year-old blonde. "It's rarely more than forty-five minutes late."


Outside, Hermione Aphrodite went to grab the long, chrome door handle, when from behind her, a man's voice said:

"Allow me, beautiful."

As the man reached past her to grab the handle, the blonde turned, smiled and said, "Thank you. Didn't I see you get off the train with me?"

"Yes," said Fredrick Hanson, a forty-five-year-old bodybuilder with long, dark hair.

"We've both been walking behind you all of the way, trying to catch up," lied the other man, Morgan Marchant, a tall, lean strawberry-blond man.

Both men had been enjoying the view of her full, perfectly-shaped bubble butt swaying side-to-side as she walked along far too much to even think of trying to catch up with the blonde.

"You should have called for me to slow down," said the gorgeous woman, almost melting the two men by smiling at them. "We really must try to get to know each other, while we are staying at this ghastly hotel."

"Yes, we must," said Fredrick and Morgan as one.


"This could be them now," said Tina Teasdale as the double doors were pulled open. Then, as the gorgeous blonde sauntered in, "I thought the beauty pageant had been postponed until mid-December." [See my story, 'Gorgeous'.]

"So did I," said Piper.

A bisexual, Piper's eyes almost popping out of her head as the blonde beauty sauntered across toward them. Despite her best intentions, she could not help licking her lips at the sight of the blonde's enormous breasts, which threatened to leap free of her low-cut, almost transparent yellow gown.

"Can I help you?" offered Tina, Toni, and Piper as one.

"How polite you all are," cooed Hermione. "My name is Hermione Aphrodite. I believe you are expecting me?"

"Yes, indeed," said Piper, a little too eagerly.

"And these two gentlemen came from the train with me," said Hermione.

"Oh, yes," said Piper, less enthusiastically.

"Freddy Hanson," said the tall, dark-haired man, holding out his right hand to no one in particular.

After a moment, Toni Chandler took his hand and introduced herself: "I'm the owner of the hotel."

"You seem very young to own a hotel," said Hermione.

"She inherited it after her father died recently," said Piper, taking the gorgeous blonde's hand and holding it a little too long.

"Oh, how sad," said Hermione, giving Toni her most sorrowful glance.

"In case anyone's interested, I'm Morgan Marchant," said the strawberry-blond man.

"Glad to meet you," said Tina, "I'm the new waitress-cum-maid-cum-general dogsbody-cum-slave around here."

"Don't exaggerate, slave, or I'll have you whipped," teased Piper, making everybody laugh.

After they had booked in the three new arrivals, Hermione said, "I am expecting two steamer trunks to be delivered from the railway station today."

"We'll get Maxwell, our waiter, to take them up to your room when they arrive," said Piper, her hand lingering a little too long on the blonde's as she handed over the key to room 317. "It's right near my room, 320."

"How convenient," said Hermione.

"I'm afraid you're all too late for breakfast, but I'm sure we can arrange for some snacks and cuppas in the TV room," said Toni.

"That would be nice, wouldn't it?" said the blonde.

The two men almost fell over each other to agree with her.

As they entered the pale blue-walled lounge-cum-TV room, Hermione thought, I think I'll have Freddy after tea tonight, then Morgan tomorrow night, then the Amazonian dyke the next night! Yum-yum! She was careful to smile at the manageress, then at the two men.

I'm in there! thought Freddy, Morgan, and Piper, all almost drooling from lust.

Making certain to sit between the two men on one of the four four-person green sofas, Hermione gave them each a squeeze very high up on the leg, while winking at Piper Noel, running her tongue sensually around her lips.

Oh God, I'd better get out of here, before I frig myself silly in front of everyone! Turning, Piper sped back into the reception area, saying:

"I'd better take care of the reception desk."

"I hope I didn't do anything to offend her," cooed Hermione, still squeezing the upper legs of the two men.

"Oh, I'm sure you couldn't do anything to offend anyone," said an entranced Morgan Marchant.

"Teas up," said Gerda Andersen, the hotel's chef, a tall Nordic blonde, pushing a trolley with tea, coffee, and piles of pineapple lamingtons as she entered the TV room.

"Yum, yum, those look delicious," said Hermione, helping herself to one of the cream-filled lamingtons.

Well, she might look like a beauty queen, thought Gerda, but she eats like a normal person! I like a person with a healthy appetite.

"Yum," said Hermione, "although I really should watch my figure."

"I'll watch it for you!" said Morgan and Freddie as one.


Over at the tiny police station at Morcambe Street, Lenoak, the five cops were seated around a tiny, vinyl-topped desk, savouring cups of tea, or coffee for Colin, and homemade vanilla slices, served by Deidre Morton.

"These vanilla slices are scrumptilicious," said Sheila Bennett, a Goth chick with orange-and-black striped hair. Aged thirty-six, Sheila was the Chief Constable of the BeauLarkin to Willamby area.

"Fabuloso," agreed Terri Scott, a beautiful ash blonde. The same age as Sheila, Terri was the Senior Sergeant of the area and was soon to be married to Colin.

"Magnifique," said Colin Klein, a tall, redheaded Englishman, a former London crime reporter, now a constable at the Glen Hartwell Police Department.

"Excelente," agreed Alice Walker, a forty-seven-year-old brunette. An amateur weight-lifter and gymmate of Sheila, Alice was a tall, attractive widow.

"I'll just say, grouse," said Suzette Cummings, an eighteen-year-old trainee with long raven hair, "since all the best adjectives have already been used up."

"That's all right, honey," said Deidre Morton, a short, plump, sixty-something brunette, a trained cordon bleu chef. "It's nice to be appreciated."

"Well, eat up, everyone," advised Terri. "We have to go and relieve Paul and Wendy soon."

"Yes, they'll be starving," agreed Deidre. "I was careful to keep back some vanilla slices for when they return."

"When who returns?" asked Wendy Pearson, a tall, attractive, forty-six-year-old blonde, who looked more like a fashion model than a cop.

"You two," teased Sheila. "She wouldn't let us scoff all the vanilla slices."

"Word of the famine, known as Sheila Bennett, has got around, marm," teased Paul Bell, a tall, lean, dark-haired sergeant, retiring in December.

"I'm not a famine, am I?" asked Sheila, getting up to leave.

"No, you're more like a plague, the way food vanishes whenever you're around," teased Terri.

"How dare you?" demanded Sheila as she, Terri, Colin, and Alice headed outside.


Soon after they had finished the pineapple lamingtons and cuppas, Hermione's two steamer trunks arrived from the station, and the deliverymen kindly took them up, in the ancient cage-style elevator, which sounded like the TARDIS taking off when it moved.

"How kind of you," said Hermione in room 317, reaching for her purse.

"No tip is necessary, gorgeous," said one of the deliverymen.

"Again, most kind," said the blonde, looking around the room, whose walls were painted pale blue with white edgings, thinking, Yeech, in what century was this room last painted?

Going across to the two trunks, she started unpacking her things into the two ancient-looking varnished wardrobes.


"I've never known them to be so obliging," said Toni Chandler as the elevator went up with Hermione's things.

"You've never had a guest quite like Miss Aphrodite," said Maxwell dreamily.

"That's for sure," said Piper, equally dreamily.

"Oh, God, they're both off!" said Tina, making the two teenagers giggle.


After lunch, Hermione and her two beaus sat in the lounge-cum-TV room watching hideous afternoon television, followed by tea.

When Morgan Merchant went out for a moment, Hermione whispered to Freddy Hanson, "Your room at 10:30 tonight, for a sweet rendezvous, daring?"

"Hope you're ready for some heavy-duty loving," boasted the tall, muscular man.

"As much as you can give me," said the gorgeous blonde, running her tongue seductively around her lips for his benefit.

"I can give you as much as you can handle."

"I bet you can," said Hermione, squeezing one of his muscular arms. "I just love big, muscular men."

At that moment, Morgan returned and sat next to her.

Turning toward him, Hermione whispered, "I am so tired tonight. But how about you and I have an intimate tête-à-tête tomorrow night around 10:30 in your room?"

"It's a date, gorgeous," said Morgan.

After tea that night, Freddy whispered to Hermione, "Room 211, 10:30."

"Room 211, 10:30," repeated the blonde.


Inside the garishly painted purple coloured room, Freddy Hanson waited impatiently, hoping that the gorgeous blonde would not back down.

On the dot of 10:30, there was the faintest wrapping upon his door.

The muscular man almost ran to open the door, just enough for Hermione Aphrodite to slither almost serpentinely into his room.

"Yeech, not my favourite colour!" said the blonde.

"Nor mine," agreed Freddy, "but we're here for fucking, not art appreciation."

"Ooh, I like a man who is direct and to the point," cooed Hermione.

"Then, just get your dress off, and get ready to scream."

The beautiful blonde lowered the straps of her translucent yellow gown, then wiggled to make the dress slither down to the floor:

"I never waste time with underwear," she explained.

"Thank goodness," said Freddy, running his eyes up and down over the naked splendour of the gorgeous woman.

"Hey, no fair, big man, you have to get naked too," protested Hermione.

"Get ready to scream," boasted Freddy.

He removed his upper clothing in one go, followed by his shoes and socks together then pulled down his trousers and boxers to reveal a fully engorged twelve-inch (thirty centimetre) long, throbbing penis, as thick as one of the blonde's wrists.

"This is where most women scream and try, often unsuccessfully, to escape."

"I'm not most women," said Hermione, ignoring the suggestion that the muscular man had raped women on occasions. She walked across to take his throbbing organ into both hands, then said, "Very impressive."

"Impressive, I call this the destroyer! I've had women pleading with me to stop fucking them with it! Some have almost bled to death."

"As I said, I'm not most women. I've survived fucking by a Minotaur," said Hermaphroditus truthfully. "So, I know I can survive this mighty thing."

"Without screaming, crying, or begging me to stop?" demanded Freddy Hanson, advancing menacingly upon the gorgeous blonde.

"I might scream in delight, I might cry from joy, and would only ever beg you to never stop!" said Hermione. "It is you who will end up begging me for mercy, Big Man!"

"Me, beg you?" demanded Freddy.

He stormed across to grab the beautiful blonde, picked her up bodily, then charged across to toss her almost sadistically upon the bright purple sheets of the king-single bed.

"You survived a Minotaur fucking you, did you?" demanded Freddy, ruthlessly pulling her luscious thighs apart. "Well, let's see if you can survive this Manotaur fucking the shit out of you!"

So saying, he leapt onto the bed, between the blonde's thighs, still expecting her to shriek and try to run away. Instead she entwined her long legs around his back to help pull him deeply inside her as the big man plunged all thirty centimetres of his engorged, throbbing manhood deep into her vagina, even into her womb beyond.

"Come on Manotaur, fuck the shit out of me, all night long!" teased, prompted Hermaphroditus, knowing even as they started who would be screaming for mercy, long before she had finished with him.

As he fucked her ruthlessly, the blonde kept Freddy scissored between her curvaceous thighs, which held the muscular man in a vice-tight grip. He had always dreamt of fucking a woman who could take him fully inside her and pull him deep into her hungry, soft, moist body. But soon, she seemed to be pulling him too hard, until his back felt as though it might break, until his oversized manhood thought that it was being devoured by the gorgeous woman's body, like the Jamaican Krull of legend, the Toothed Vagina, that consumed men whole from the genitals. [See my story, 'Krull'.]

"Come on ball breaker, think you can break me, do you?" demanded Freddy, a trace of fear starting to creep into him as he started to wonder just who was fucking whom.

"Ride me, Manotaur, make me your human-cow!" cried Hermione, teasing the big man, knowing that she was far too strong for him, as he was already starting to realise.

"I'll ride you, ball breaker!" cried Freddy, his testicles starting to ache, as though somehow the blonde beauty was supping him dry from the penis, like a sexual vampire. I vaunt to suck your cock! thought Freddy.

"Come on, Manotaur, fill me with your fiery seed!" demanded Hermione.

"I'll drown you in oceans of fiery seed," boasted Freddy just before his testicles started to unleash his seed.

Enough semen for most women to cry out in shock as he filled them. But the blonde laughed at his efforts, saying, "Hardly a Manotaur! Hardly a man at all!"

"Is that right?" demanded Freddy, punching the gorgeous woman in the face.

Laughing at him again, despite the swelling around her black right eye, the blonde continued to hold him in a scissor lock as she adjusted her position from the missionary to the Cat's Cradle position, with her thighs still holding him in place in their steel-like grip.

"Are you up to a second round?" teased Hermione. "It is easy to punch a woman in the face. It is much harder to satisfy her in bed. You have failed once, would you dare to try a second time?"

"You dare to mock me!" demanded Freddy.

He raised his right fist to hit her again. Then, instead her grabbed her massive breasts in his hands, and squeezed them almost hard enough to burst them, as he commenced fucking the luscious blonde for a second time.

"That's it, Manotaur, tame this hucow, break her spirit, make her stomach bulge from your seed, as though she were already pregnant!" order Hermione as she commenced fucking the big man again, although he thought he was fucking her.

"I'm fucking you now, hucow!" taunted Freddy.

"Who is fucking whom, Manotaur!" taunted back the blonde.

"I am fucking you, hucow!" said Freddy, although he was starting to have his doubts.

As they continued fucking hour after hour, Hermione Aphrodite seemed to be getting stronger and stronger, her once soft, feminine thighs and upper arms starting to bulge with muscles, as though she were literally sapping the strength, sapping the manliness directly out of the big man. Who no longer looked as big as when they had started; no longer looked as tall, or as muscular.

"Who is the hucow now, Manotaur?" demanded the gorgeous, now muscular blonde, as she literally fucked Freddy Hanson to death!

Finally releasing the deflated corpse from between her muscular thighs, Hermaphroditus, walked across to the tiny shower cubicle, leaking semen like a burst water main, to take a quick shower, and douche.

Then, returning to the purple-walled room, she pulled up her translucent yellow dress, slipped her leather thongs back onto her feet, and then tiptoed across to the door. She opened the door a crack, peeped outside to make certain that no one was in the orange-floral walled corridor. She then tiptoed down the corridor to the stairs, not wanting to risk the TARDIS-landing noise of the cage elevator waking everyone, as she headed up to the third storey.


At 7:30 the next morning, Hermione Aphrodite and Morgan Marchant sat together at one of twenty or so round tables in the boat race blue-walled dining room, waiting to be served by Toni Chandler, Tina Teasdale, or Maxwell Collins.

"Cheesy," said the blonde, pulling at the yellow and green, floral-patterned plastic tablecloth.

"Talking of cheesy, whatever happened to our muscular friend. Freddy?"

"Oh, who cares?" replied Hermione. "I find those muscle-bound oafs boring. They are so full of themselves, expecting all women to fawn over them."

"That is so true," said Morgan, happy to feel that he had a chance with the beauty.

"I like a real man ... like you. Strong, but not vain with it. Not a poser!" said Hermione. "So, are we still on for our little tête-à-tête tonight?"

"10:30, room 141," said Morgan.

"10:30, room 141," agreed the gorgeous blonde.

"So, what happened to He-Man?" asked Tina Teasdale, coming over to take their orders.

"If you mean that muscle-bound oaf, we are through with him," said Hermione.

"Yeah, the poser," agreed Morgan.

"I thought he was quite hunky," said the waitress before taking their orders.

While Morgan tucked into porridge with treacle, Hermione had two large, very rare steaks, deciding that she needed to build up her strength again, after the marathon sex session last night. It's not every day a lady competes in the Sexual Olympics! thought the blonde: Every other day maybe, but not every day!

"What is so funny?" asked Morgan, seeing her smiling.

"I was just thinking with pleasure of our little orgy ... I mean tête-à-tête tonight."

"Yes, tête-à-tête," repeated Morgan, thinking, Orgy! I like the sound of that!


Running off their feet waiting tables, Tina, Toni, and Maxwell barely noticed the disappearance of Freddy Hanson during breakfast, then they had to help Gerda Andersen with the breakfast dishes, before stopping for a breather.

"Did anyone notice He-Man while we were serving?" Tina Teasdale asked.

"You mean Mr. Hanson?" asked Maxwell.

"Yeah, I don't think he was in at breakfast."

"Maybe he likes to sleep in, then buy fish and chips at Eduardo's in Chappell Street," suggested Maxwell. "It's not far from here."

"As long as he doesn't expect me to pay for his fish and chips," said Toni. Then to Tina, "Anyway, we'd better start making the beds. You start on the third floor, I'll start on the first floor, and we'll meet in the middle."

"What'll I do?" asked Maxwell.

"Come and keep me company in the lounge, watching telly,' said Agatha Tentrees, a blue rinsed lady in her eighties.

"Uh-oh, sooner you than me," whispered Tina.

Patting him on the left shoulder, Toni said, "Go face your fate like a man!"

"Two rode into the valley of death," said Maxwell as he started across to where Agatha waited for him, "but only one returned."

"I think he's been watching too many old Westerns," said Tina, giggling before racing across to the ancient cage elevator.

About an hour later, Toni had finished the beds on the first floor and had just reached the second storey when she heard Tina screaming. Running across to room 211, Toni asked:

"What is it?"

Standing in the corridor, ashen-faced, looking as though she might throw up any time, the petite blonde pointed into room 211, saying, "Inside, I think he's dead."

Then she fainted.

Stepping over the supine waitress-cum-et cetera, Toni walked into the purple-walled room, thinking, I really must get the hotel repainted from top to bottom.

Inside room 211, she found the ice-cold corpse of Fredrick Hanson lying upon the purple quilt, which was awash in what was undeniably semen.

How much can one man produce? wondered Toni, correctly guessing that Hanson's body had lost a lot more than every drop of Spermatozoa.

Realising that her mind was wandering from shock, Toni strode back out into the orange-walled corridor and dialled Triple-O.


At the Yellow House in Rochester Road, Merridale, at 7:30, they were enjoying a breakfast of Vegemite crumpets for Sheila Bennett, and a choice of crumpets, waffles, or muffins with jam, maple syrup, or marmalade for everyone else.

"You can't beat simple Vegemite crumpets for brekkie," enthused Sheila.

"Too right," agreed Tommy Turner, a short, fat, blond retiree. "Especially with a good swig of rum to boot."

"I wouldn't mind a swig of rum with my brekkie," said Terri Scott.

"I'm starting to think, the reason I'll have to carry her over the threshold when we return on our wedding day is that she won't be able to walk across," teased Colin Klein.

"Will not," said Terri, in a dubious drunk accent.

"A tot of rum would be nice," agreed Leo Laxman. A tall, black Jamaican by birth, Leo worked as a nurse at the Glen Hartwell and Daley Community Hospital.

"I'll get you both one," volunteered Deidre Morton.

"Oy! Oy! Oy! Whose rum are you giving them?" demanded Tommy, a reluctantly reforming alcoholic.

"I didn't know he did bird impressions," said Natasha Lipzing. Aged seventy-one, the tall, grey-haired lady had lived for thirty-six years at the Yellow House.

"Well, he is a birdbrain," said Freddy Kingston, a tall, chubby, bald retiree, making everyone except Tommy laugh.

"Whose rum is it?" demanded Tommy.

"Let's just say, 'It is better to give than to receive,'" quoted Deidre.

"Not only does she lock away my plonk, but she hands it out to everyone else."

"Thank you, Mrs. M.," said Terri, before taking a sip of Tommy's rum. "Aah, and thank you for your generosity, Tommy."

"Bah, humbug," said Tommy as Terri's phone started to ring.

"Uh-oh," said Sheila, trying to force a whole Vegemite crumpet into her mouth.

"Don't choke yourself, Sheila, I'll pack half a dozen Veggie crumpets into a bag for you to take with you," offered Deidre. Then, as they turned to give her the moo-cow eyes, "And some waffles, and muffins for Terri, and Colin."

"Yatzy!" said Sheila and Colin as one.


Forty minutes or so later, Terri's police-blue Lexus pulled up at the corner of Rushcutters Road and Chappell Street, Harpertown, to find two ambulances, Tilly Lombstrom, Topaz Moseley, and four paramedics waiting for them.

"So what happened this time?" asked Terri. "It's starting to become a regular thing, men dying at the Chandler Hotel."

"That's why I hired a female chef and a manageress this time," said Toni Chandler, leading them inside as the first ambulance departed, taking Tina Teasdale to the hospital.

"Now, if only your rezzies were all chicks, instead of blokes," said Sheila. "Maybe you should rename it The Chandler Hotel for Women Only?"

"And turn away half of our customers?" asked Toni, leading them inside the jaundice-yellow reception area. "We've rarely ever had a full hotel. Let alone the luxury of picking and choosing our clientele."

"It's the TARDIS!" said Sheila, as the rattly cage-elevator started descending.

"No, but it sounds like it," admitted Toni. As the elevator reached the ground floor, then bounced up twelve centimetres again, before finally stopping, Toni said, "Abandon all hope, all Ye who enter."

"No, thanks, I think I can walk up two storeys," said Sheila, heading toward the stairs.

Sheila was soon followed by Piper Noel, and all of the police, leaving Toni Chandler to go up in the elevator alone.


"Wow," said Alice Walker, looking down at where Fredrick Hanson lay amid a small river of semen upon the purple-quilted bed. "It looks like he was gang raped by fifty or so horny home boys."

"Home boys?" demanded Terri. "These days we say gay gentlemen."

"Or heterosexually challenged persons," teased Colin.

"Or bum pokers," said Sheila.

"Sheils! You're as bad as Alice!" said Terri.

"How dare you?" said Sheila and Alice.

Sheila went ahead and took the crime scene photographs with her mobile phone, then Tilly Lombstrom and Topaz Moseley came in to examine the corpse.

"Wow, the last time I saw this much white sauce, it was poured across my cauliflower," said Tilly, a tall, attractive, fifty-something brunette, and a senior surgeon at the Glen Hartwell Hospital.

"I always thought blokes could only produce a teaspoon full?" asked Topaz, a gorgeous platinum blonde nurse, currently dating Leo Laxman. "Leo says that when you see this much sprayed about in porn films, it's mainly either clag, or white sauce for Tilly's cauliflower."

"I'll never look at cauliflower sauce the same," said Tilly.

"We figured he'd been gang banged to death by some horny home boys," offered Alice Walker.

After examining Fredrick's anus, Tilly said, "No, he hasn't been sodomised."

After rolling him over, Tilly added, "And I have the bizarre feeling that all of this river of Spermatozoa came from this one man."

"He be much man," said Sheila, "or at least he would be, if he weren't dead!"

"Sheils!" said Terri and Colin together.

"What? She was just saying," defended Alice.

Finally, Tilly collected as much semen as possible for testing in a tightly sealed fluorocarbon container.

Then the paramedics were allowed to collect the corpse, while Terri and the cops went downstairs to start interviewing everybody.

"Well," said the gorgeous blonde, Hermione Aphrodite, whose black eye had now faded, so she could conceal it with makeup, "he came to the hotel at the same time as I did yesterday. We were both on the train from Melbourne. They called it the nine o'clock train, but it was more like nine-forty-five when we reached the railway station at Torres Street, Harpertown."

"We all came from the same train, Freddy, me, and Hermione," said Morgan Marchant. "But Hermione walks so quickly that Freddy and I weren't able to catch up with her, till she stopped outside in Chappell Street."

Looking around at Hermione's perfect bubble-butt, Sheila thought: Yeah, right, like they were really trying hard to catch up with her! They were enjoying the view as she swayed along ahead of them!

After interviewing all of the guests and staff, Terri and the cops followed the ambulances to the Glen Hartwell and Daley Community Hospital to find out the results of the autopsy and the semen testing.


"Well," said Jesus Costello, a tall fifty-something man, the administrator and chief surgeon at the hospital, around two PM that day, "we can say for certainty that the litre or so of Spermatozoa that was collected at the Chandler Hotel, all came from the gonads of the deceased man, Fredrick Hanson."

"How is that possible?" demanded Terri Scott. "And why didn't I meet him before meeting Colin?"

"What was that, honey?" demanded her fiancé.

"Nothing, honey," lied Terri.


At 10:30 on the dot, Hermione Aphrodite tapped gently upon the door to room 141 at the Chandler Hotel.

"Hello, gorgeous," said Morgan Marchant, standing aside to allow the blonde to enter his room hopefully unseen.

"Yeech!" said Hermione, looking around at the blood red walls. "Is this Count Dracula's bedroom or something?"

"Don't ask me," said Morgan, enjoying the view as the blonde wriggled her way out of her long, yellow dress. "I only rent here."

"Your turn, handsome," said Hermione, giggling as the strawberry blond man squeezed her 35DD breasts firmly as she hurriedly undressed him.

Finally, with them both naked, she grabbed him by the arm to drag him across toward the queen-sized bed, leaping backwards onto the bed, pulling him forward on top of her.

"Room for one on top!" teased Hermione as she began stroking his manhood to full erection, before guiding his manhood inside her. Although much smaller than Freddy Hanson's penis had been, it was still respectable in size.

"Fuck the living shit out of me!" shouted Hermione, forgetting to keep her voice down for the benefit of the other residents.

"Whatever you say, gorgeous," said Morgan, starting to thrust into her, as the beautiful blonde wrapped her long legs around him to pull his manhood, almost painfully deeply into her body.

Deciding that Morgan was too much of a gentleman to just rut upon her, instead of wasting time making love, Hermione took the lead, almost raping the strawberry blond man, despite him being on top of her.

"Fuck the living shit out of me!" repeated Hermione, more quietly, this time. "Don't make love to me, Morgan, just fuck the living shit out of me!"

"I'm trying," said Morgan, "but I'm used to women telling me not to be too rough with them."

"You can be as rough with me as you like!" insisted the blonde. " Fuck the living shit out of me, Morgan! Fuck the living shit out of me!"

Finally, Morgan ejaculated inside Hermione, leaving her frustrated. Deciding that she had had enough of his gentlemanly approach, the blonde unscissored her legs from around Morgan, slid out from under him, and moved up behind the panting man, who wrongly thought that he had done well.

"Enough is enough!: said Hermione, in a deep, manly voice.

"What?" asked Morgan, as the blonde moved between his legs and began to spread his buttock cheeks apart.

Looking around, instead of seeing the tall, busty blonde behind him, Morgan saw a two-metre tall, yellow-blonde man, well muscled, with bulging abs instead of huge breasts, and strong, muscular calves and arms.

"Who? What are you?" muttered Morgan.

"Hermaphroditus," said the creature honestly. "You have fucked me feebly in my female form as Hermione. Now I will fuck the shit out of you, in my male form, as Hermes!"

"What?" demanded Morgan, trying to fight off the muscular being as it began to press at his anus with the glands of its fourteen-inch (thirty-five centimetre), ankle-thick manhood. "No!"

Holding Morgan down hard into the pillow, so that no one could hear his screams, Hermes-Hermione brutally penetrated his rectum, and deep into his bowels to begin ruthlessly sodomising the strawberry blond man.

"I told you in my woman form to fuck the shit out of me! To rut upon me like an animal! And you would not!" cried Hermes. "So now I will rut upon you; fucking the shit out of you!"

"Noooooooooo!" cried Morgan into his pillow, fortunately passing out from shock and agony before the sodomy really got underway.

Hermes did not even notice when Morgan Marchant died from the ruthless fucking, and he did not care. Hermes-Hermione kept sodomising the dead man for hour after hour, until flooding his bowels and the dark blue quilt with litres of semen.

"Now, that is fucking the shit out of someone!" said Hermes, in a deep, booming masculine voice..

He looked down contemptuously at the corpses for a moment, then walked across to the en-suite to have a shower.

Eight minutes later, Hermione Aphrodite came out of the shower, stark naked but dry. Looking across at the corpse on the bed, the gorgeous chestalicious blonde said, in a high, feminine voice:

"Now, that is fucking the shit out of someone, Morgan!"

She slipped her leather thongs onto her feet, then put on her translucent yellow dress before heading out into the corridor to start back to her room on the third storey.


At breakfast the next morning, Hermione had to sit alone.

"No boyfriend, this morning?" asked the Amazonian brunette, Piper Noel.

"No, sometimes we get sick of men, don't we?"

"Yes, of course," agreed Piper, wishing that she could sit down next to the gorgeous blonde.

Taking one of Piper's hands into one of her own much smaller hands, Hermione ran her thumb meaningfully around the underside of the mannish hand, saying:

"Sometimes we women just need to be with other women, don't we?"

"Absolutely," agreed Piper, for the first time since childhood being stuck for words.

"Sometimes," whispered Hermione, forcing Piper to crouch down to hear her, "when I see a strong, dependable woman, like you, I want to forget that men even exist. I want to snuggle up against her and make hot, passionate love to her."

"Absolutely," squeaked Piper, almost climaxing from excitement.

"I wonder if I could discuss this with you later?"

"Absolutely," said Piper, her eyes almost shining from excitement.

"Say in your room, about 10:30 tonight?"

"Absolutely," said Piper, almost crying from excitement.

Blowing her a kiss, Hermione said, "Well, until then."

"Room 320," said Piper.

"You told me earlier, how could I forget?"

"Absolutely," said Piper. "I mean, what would you like for breakfast?"

"Two very rare steaks, please ... I've got to keep my strength up for later."

"Absolutely," said Piper, turning and almost knocking over Tina Teasdale in her haste to get to the kitchen at the other end of the dining room.

"What's her problem?" asked Tina, almost landing in the lap of a sixty-year-old man.

"Nothing," said the man. "Take a seat, honey."

"Sorry, Mr. Longely, but Toni has already warned me about you."

"How dare she?" said Don Longley as the petite blonde hurried away. "A sweet little piece of totty like her just started working here, and she's already been warned about me."

"Well, if Toni hadn't warned her, I would have," teased Agatha Tentrees.

"You would, you old skank," said Don.

Hermione giggled, thinking: It's a pity he can't be my fourth treat. But I don't like to take more than three victims from the same place before moving on. And the dyke tonight will be my third victim at the Chandler Hotel!

After breakfast, Hermione went into the lounge-cum-TV room to watch moronic morning television, while Piper and the others helped washed the dishes. Then Toni and Tina went upstairs to make the beds.

"Today, I want to start on the first floor," insisted Tina, "you can risk the upper storeys."

"If you prefer," said Toni, wandering down to the TARDIS-sounding cage elevator. "But with any luck, we won't have two men found dead in their bedrooms on consecutive days."

"Has it ever happened here before?" demanded Tina.

"Well," said Toni, deciding to lie, "yes, but not for ages."

"That's not as reassuring as you probably thought it was," said Tina. Turning, she raced up to the first storey.

This time Toni had almost finished making the last bed on the third storey when a hellish scream rang out from the first floor.

Afraid of running down the stairs and possibly falling, Toni took the cage elevator and came down to the first floor, where she found Tina lying unconscious upon the dirty grey carpet outside Room 141.

"What is it?" demanded Piper Noel, having run up from the ground floor, with Hermione Aphrodite in tow.

"I don't know," said Toni, pointing toward the open door to room 141. "I haven't dared to go inside to look."

"Wait here," Piper said to Hermione.

"I wasn't going anywhere," said Toni, wrongly thinking that the Amazonian brunette had been talking to her.


Inside the room, Piper found the ice-cold corpse of Morgan Marchant, awash in semen.

It must be from more than one man, this time! thought Piper correctly. Even He-Man couldn't produce this much in one night!


An hour later, Sheila Bennett was taking the crime scene photographs, while Terri, Colin, Wendy Pearson, Tilly Lombstrom, and Leo Laxman all watched on.

"Well, this time there's no doubt that he's been sodomised, possibly gang raped to death by Sheila's home boys," said Tilly. "Cauliflower sauce is still gushing from his anus."

"Do you mind?" asked Wendy. "I used to love cauliflower smothered in white sauce."

"With the emphasis on 'used to'!" teased Sheila.

After a quick examination, Tilly called for the paramedics to take away the corpse. Again, taking a litre or more of the semen for testing.

"So much is still gushing from the poor bastard's arse, that's probably more than enough for testing," said Cheryl Pritchard, at sixty-four the senior paramedic in the Glen Harwell area.

"Leave him some dignity, Chezza," said Derek Armstrong, her driver. A fifty-year-old black American by birth, Derek had spent the last twenty-five years in Glen Hartwell and had been dating Sheila for the last year or so. "The poor bastard was rogered to death by God alone knows how many men!"

"You are such a crybaby," teased Cheryl.

"His death was undignified, at least we can allow him some dignity now!"

After the leaking corpse had been taken away, again, Terri and the others interviewed all of the staff and residents.

"You came here with the two deceased men, didn't you?" Terri asked Hermione Aphrodite.

"No, they followed me the whole way from the railway station," insisted the gorgeous blonde. "I didn't even know that they were there until one of them opened the front door for me ...." She stopped, then said, "Oh, my God! You don't think that I could be the next intended victim?"

"What?" asked Terri, who had meant no such thing. "No, I meant ...."

"If whoever it is is murdering all the new arrivals, I could easily be next," insisted the blonde, doing her best to sound panicked.

"Well ... maybe," said Terri, caught off guard.

"Why didn't I think of that? Maybe I should leave immediately."

"No, no, he could follow after you, when you're alone and unprotected," insisted a panicked Piper Noel. Terrified of the idea that she might miss her chance to make love with the gorgeous blonde.

"Besides, we need everyone to stay where they are until we solve this case," pointed out Terri Scott.

"Don't leave town without letting you know, sort of thing?" asked Tina.

"Exactly," said Colin Klein. "And since only men have been killed so far, you and the other women are probably all safe."

"Probably?" queried Tina Teasdale. "Well, I know I'm not making any more beds until each room has been checked for corpses by someone else first."

"I can't make all the beds by myself," insisted Toni.

"I'll go up with her to check the bedrooms before she goes into them," offered Maxwell Collins.

"Okay, but if you faint at what you see in there, be sure to scream first, so I'll know not to go in after you," said Tina.

"Ouch, the term deballing comes to mind!" teased Sheila.


Later that day, Terri and the others went to the morgue in the basement of the Glen Hartwell and Daley Community Hospital to be told:

"This time the flood of semen did come from more than one man," said Tilly.

"It had to, didn't it?" said Wendy Pearson.

"Two men in fact," said Jesus Costello.

"All that from just two men?" asked Sheila.

"That's not even the weird bit," teased Tilly. "Half of the semen came from Morgan Marchant himself."

"He helped sodomise himself to death?" demanded Colin Klein.

"It would seem so," said Jesus. "But that's not the weirdest bit, yet. The rest of the semen came from Fredrick Hanson."

"He's still alive?" demanded Terri.

"No, he's still very much dead," said Jesus. He pulled open a freezer drawer to show Hanson's body was still lying there.

"So, his semen was also dead?" asked Terri.

"No. Somehow he ejaculated live semen, by the litre, into Morgan Marchant's anus, twenty-four hours after himself dying."

"A zombie home boy rapist?" asked Sheila.

"No, because he's still in the freezer drawer," pointed out Tilly.

"Maybe he came and went," said Wendy. "Pardon my French."

"So, zombie-Hanson opened the freezer drawer, from the inside, went naked, unseen, all the way from Glen Hartwell to Harpertown, back to the Chandler Hotel, helped sodomise Morgan Marchant to death?" taunted Jesus. "Then, still without being seen, managed to get back to the morgue, back into the freezer drawer, without anyone noticing that he had gone for an erotic escapade?"

"For a bloke named Jesus, you can be very sarky when you want to be," chastised Sheila.

"Hee-Zeus," reminded Jesus Costello.

"Gesundheit," teased the Goth policewoman.


Around 9:45, Hermione Aphrodite went to the TARDIS-roaring cage elevator, up to the third floor. But not to her room, 317. But to room 320, to have some more fun, this time with the Amazonian manageress, Piper Noel.

"I couldn't wait any longer," lied Hermione. "It is so frightening to think that I might be the fiend's next intended victim."

"Don't worry, honey, you're perfectly safe sleeping here with me," assured the bi-sexual brunette.

"Yes, but are you safe with me?" taunted the gorgeous blonde.

"What do you mean?" asked Piper, puzzled.

Lowering the straps of her dress, Hermione shimmied out of it, standing in only her leather thongs, then as the astounded manageress watched, the blonde began to grow and expand out. Her huge breasts became huge, mannish pectorals, her thin, feminine arms and thighs swelled out into thick, muscular limbs, her face became less round, with a cleft chin, and her beautiful blue eyes changed to dark brown.

"Who are you? What are you?" demanded Piper.

"I am Hermaphroditus, the son of Greek gods Hermes and Aphrodite. The water-nymph Salmacis, seeing me bathing in a pool, fell in love with me and prayed that we might never be separated. The gods interpreted her request literally and joined the pair of us into one body. Making me the world's first hermaphrodite. And the only one who can change gender at will."

"But...?" began Piper, too startled to react as Hermaphroditus stepped across and began ripping the clothes away from the Amazonian brunette. "No, stop!"

Instead, the muscular blond grabbed the now naked brunette and carried her across to the king-single bed and held her down.

"No, stop!" pleaded Piper.

"So, I was right, you are a dyke, who only likes the taste of a woman's vagina."

"No, I am bisexual, but I like to be in charge."

"In charge!" bellowed Hermaphroditus. "You, a mere human woman, in charge of a god!"

Deciding to end her struggles, he punched her on the chin, just hard enough to knock her out. Then the god hunted through her underwear drawer to find suitable things to use as ties to bind her in the Cat's Cradle to her bed, with her long legs bent upwards so that her ankles were on her shoulders.

Then, using a tube of KY Jelly that he found amongst her underwear, he lubricated her vagina, unwilling to put his mouth upon a mere human vagina. Climbing up behind her, he parted the rosebud of her vulva and entered her body with one cruel thrust.

"Aaaaaaaah!" shrieked Piper, coming around as Hermaphroditus ploughed nine rampant inches (twenty-two point five centimetres) of his massive, bulging manhood into her body. "Stop, you bastard!"

"That is not very ladylike," teased the god, "although you are much too mannish to be a lady."

So saying, he took her large breasts in his hands to squeeze brutally, while he began to perform sexual push-ups on top of her, gradually driving more and more of his oversized manhood into her aching body.

"Stop ... please!" begged Piper.

"That is more like it," teased Hermaphroditus. "I managed to fucked Fredrick Hanson and Morgan Marchant to death, Piper. How long will it take for me to fuck you to death? To fill you up with their seed?"

"No, please?" begged Piper as the sexual Olympics continued.

"I always aim to please," taunted the god. "But most of my conquests are not physically able to survive my thrusting. You are more mannish than Freddy or Morgan, so maybe you will be the first to survive my fucking."

"The first ever?" asked a startled Piper Noel.

"I have fucked thousands of human men and women down the millennia, and none have managed to survive my thrusting. Perhaps you will be the first."

So saying, he began thrusting like a hyæna in ancient Rome fucking slave girls to death for the amusement of Caesar.

"Help me! God, please help me!" cried the Amazonian brunette.


Up in far-off Mount Olympus, Mighty Zeus, god of all gods, heard the human woman's plea. He had recently had to intervene [See my story, 'Gorgeous'.] when Athena and Poseidon had tormented human women, so now he was on alert for further abuses.

Looking down from his lofty abode, Zeus sneered as he saw Hermaphroditus abusing the earthly woman.

"By all that is sacred, give most of my strength to this Earthly woman for the next half of an hour!" bellowed Zeus.


As Hermaphroditus thrust rapidly in and out of Piper Noel's body, her strength waned, as she started to pass away from the savage abuse ....

Then suddenly she felt greatly revitalised, strengthened, empowered.

Pulling her arms and feet out of the panty-straps that had bound her, the hotel manageress took Hermaphroditus by surprise as she pulled out of his grip, then effortlessly tossed him over onto his back and continued the merciless fucking. This time with the Amazonian brunette in charge.

"Now see if you can survive being fucked by me!" demanded Piper as she started doing sexual push-ups on top of the Olympian god, riding his cock effortlessly, as no human woman had ever ridden it before.

"I don't understand?" puzzled Hermaphroditus.

He tried to throw her over onto her back, but the brunette easily held the god in place and fucked him ruthlessly.

"Now, I will fuck you to death, you effeminate man-girl!" boasted Piper.

She continued fucking the god, growing stronger and stronger with each mighty thrust up and down on his penis, as Hermaphroditus grew weaker and weaker as though the bisexual brunette were sucking the strength right out of him, like an energy vampire of legend!

"No! Mercy!" pleaded Hermaphroditus, who indeed was starting to take on some of the feminine features of Hermione Aphrodite.

"That's exactly what, I'll give you!" promised Piper, almost sucking his penis off his body as she rode up and down on it. "No mercy! Like you showed Morgan Marchant, Fredrick Hanson, and thousands of other innocent men and women throughout the millennia! No mercy!"

"Nooooooo!" cried Hermaphroditus, as Piper increased the brutality, increased the pace, as she started to fuck the god to death.

"Help me, Mighty Zeus!" pleaded the desperate god.

"No! You have brought this upon yourself, worthless cur!" boomed Zeus from Mount Olympus. "Now you must take your punishment like a man! For the first time in millennia!"

Ignoring the booming voice, Piper continued riding Hermaphroditus's now sagging cock, until the god screamed one last time, then died beneath her.

"Oh no! I am so close to coming!" cried Piper.

Reaching into a bedside drawer, she pulled out a massive vibrator, and furiously started frigging herself with it. Until screaming almost as loudly in climax, as Hermaphroditus had done in death!

"Oh God! Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!" cried Piper as she climaxed. "Now, that's what I call a wild ride!"


Looking down from Olympus, Mighty Zeus enjoyed the sight of the Amazonian brunette frigging herself silly. Then, deciding it was time, he took back his strength from her....


"What?" said Piper Noel as the strength suddenly poured out of her, and she collapsed unconscious beside the corpse of Hermaphroditus.


Still enjoying the sight of the naked Amazonian brunette, Zeus said, "You have done well, Piper Noel. You have avenged all of the poor men and women fucked to death by this Olympian villain.

"Still, as a god, his corpse cannot be put on display down on Earth. He deserves burial here, amongst the gods!"

So saying, he raised his hands, as though to cast lightning down at the Chandler Hotel. Instead, the body of Hermaphroditus began to levitate up toward the ceiling of the hotel, before vanishing from Harpertown and appearing upon a marble table up in Mount Olympus.


The next morning, Piper Noel awakened, aching all over, but clearly remembering everything that had happened the night before.

No one will ever believe me! Piper thought as she staggered across to the en-suite for a very hot shower.

After her shower, Piper rang Terri Scott and hesitantly told the police all that had happened to her and Hermaphroditus/Hermione the night before.

"I guess Zeus kept watching over us after that little run-in we had with Athena recently," suggested Colin.

"Only in Glen Hartwell," said Terri, making everyone laugh.

THE END
© Copyright 2025 Philip Roberts
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia