The Horrible Prejudice of the Beene's Elephantfish

Back in the day, Liv was just a cute college student, with presidential ambitions. One day, during one of Professor Beene's lectures, she passed out.

She wakes in a hospital room. A nurse sees she's woken. Hence, she summons Professor Beene, who's been waiting outside, for about fifteen minutes. Liv invites him in.

Professor Beene sits at her bedside, and fills her in, one the part of the lecture she missed, because she fainted.

"It's good to see you're okay, Ms. Pope."

Liv scoffs. "I used to play football with Jewish boys, as a girl. I was nearly blinded in one game. I've had worse."

On the wall, a poster of Ben Grimm/Thing, from Marvel Comics, hangs. It's a collectible, and has been hand-autographed by Kerry Washington... (She drew hearts in the autograph, as she signed it...)

"Good to hear. Anyway, what's the last part of my lecture you remember?"

"You said that the Beene's elephantfish hates the gay specimens within its species, at that the species, throughout history, has come up with a way to persecute its gay that's so horrible, that it would only enhance Charles Darwin's atheism, if he'd ever studied the species like you have."

"Ah yes; we'll start there." He pauses, looks around, and takes a moment to close all the blinds. He leaves the room door ajar, just for relief. With luck, a child won't barge in, and overhear this part...

"So, the straight majority of the Beene's elephantfish is stupendously biased against its gay scapegoats. As time as passed, and as they've hunted cichlids, and allowed the African fish eagle to hunt them...both time and desperation, and voracity as predators, have inspired the species to evolve into avengers. You see, the straight Beene's elephantfish gets its kicks from punishing gay specimens with their own medicine; that is to say, their own fetish. It was never enough, in the species' more primitive years, to dupe the gay specimens into swimming to the surface of Lake Tanganyika, and getting caught by a fish eagle, like a grey-scaled bimbo. That was just too easy. Plus, the Beene's elephantfish is nocturnal in the wild. A gay specimen would've had to have been extremely stupid, and extremely ashamed to not be able to hunt the big fat cichlids with the big boys of their species, for that trick to outlast the species itself.

"So, in the new generations, the straight majority of the species came up with a brand new plan...and for once, it WASN'T planting the seed from Colombia and Mexico up the hollers down Copperhead Road." He hesitates. "That's a Steve Earle reference. You probably wouldn't get it..."

"I did. Anyway, what's funner than duping them into getting caught by a fish eagle, to them?"

"For the gay males, it was very simple. The straight males pretend to take the gay males on an erotic adventure. On it, they hunt the gay males...as if they were going to kill them. It's basically the species' version of BDSM."

Liv blinks; she's just a little college student, after all. "What's that?"

"Yeah, never mind; let me continue. In their society, it's considered a crime to spare their quarry. And hence, in most cases, the hunt becomes violent, and the straight male majority kills and cannibalizes the gay male specimen, as if he were a really big cichlid."

Liv makes a grossed-out face. "That's horrible."

Professor Beene shrugs. "Sadly, a lot of animals still do cannibalism. And the Beene's elephantfish is far from an exception."

"I doubt I can take any more of this, but what do the straight females do to the..." Liv hesitates. "DO they?"

Professor Beene sighs. "THAT'S the part of my lecture that's harder to explain."

"I'll bet I'm going to hate this."

Professor Beene smiles. "Well, with luck, you will never become a lesbian Beene's elephantfish, and with even more luck...no human will ever do to you what straight female Beene's elephantfishes have been known, and still do, do to their lesbians."

"Well THAT'S a relief. I'm not a lesbian. A lot of boys think I'm mean, but... I'm just as much your average damsel in distress as any black girl living in a desolate and forlorn wasteland populated by white wolves, who don't know that Davis didn't win the Civil War..."

Professor Beene scoffs. "I'd think that RED wolves would be more likely to live in Dixie, but yes, I see what you're saying."

And now, we flash-forward back to the present. Up until now, of course, Liv thought that Professor Beene's lecture was just another useless piece of information she'd never have to use in her career...and especially never as President Grant II's personal little fixer...and mistress.

She was wrong. Now, she wakes...but not in a hospital room, this time...or even on a hospital bed.

The floor is made of cast iron, and flat. It's cold, to the touch of Liv's ebony bare skin. And the elephantfish have left her with a lot of that to spare. She still doesn't quite get why they eroticize her, if they don't even love women...

She's still in chains, too. Her prison bikini is white. It usually is, when white boys play with her, this way...

Liv looks around...and gasps, and nearly screams when she sees what's near. It's a white woman's bare ass. To Liv, her cheeks are huge. And her thighs, bless Liv's soul, look mightier than any draw bridge Liv's ever heard of...or been across.

This is the ass of Mellie Grant. The elephantfish have got her restrained...both for sport, and for a higher purpose. If it be their will, Mellie just might become the guillotine that beheads Liv...

Hanging upside down in the corner, Aaron tries, in vain, to get loose. He's surrounded by robotic crane arms. Each one is armed with a torture weapon. Indeed, it seems that Aaron O'Reilly is a half-Charlie in a whole pickle.

All he needs now is to be hanging over a barrel of vinegar, instead of water...

Here, Liv hears Cyrus's voice in her head. She screams, as he speaks to her.

SETTLE DOWN. OR RATHER, SETTLE DOWN, IF YOU CAN, FOR AS LONG AS IT TAKES TO EXPLAIN THIS CONTRAPTION; ONE THAT WILL BE YOUR DOOMSDAY, MS. POPE, IF YOUR PIMP EVER HAS SO MUCH AS A SOLE URGE TO RECLAIM HIS HONOR.

AS YOU CAN SEE, AARON O'REILLY IS IN CHAINS, AND HANGING UPSIDE DOWN. IF AND WHEN PRESIDENT GRANT II CROSSES THE LINES WE'VE ORDERED HIM NOT TO, THE ROBOTIC ARMS WILL GET TO WORK, TORTURING HIM.

THIS, IN TURN, WILL STIMULATE THE M.I.L.F., HERE, WHO YOUNG MR. O'REILLY SEES BEHIND HIS FATHER'S, AND NOT TO MENTION THE ENTIRE COUNTRY'S, BACK. AS A HUMAN, SHE WON'T WISH THIS UPON HER BELOVED M.I.L.F. BAIT. BUT AS A WOMAN, SHE WILL ENJOY WATCHING HIM GET TORMENTED.

Under, Liv, the floor moves. It moves, to where she's hovering between Mellie's great thighs.

IF AND WHEN WE HAVE TO STIMULATE HER WITH MR. O'REILLY'S TORTURE, THE FIRST LADY, HERE, WILL BE TEMPTED TO INDULGE IN A NAUGHTLY LITTLE HABIT, WHEN SHE'S IN SEXUAL BLISS. BELIEVE IT OR NOT, THE FIRST LADY IS THE KIND OF WOMAN WHO LOVES TO CLAP HER THIGHS TOGETHER, WHEN SHE'S IN HEAT. AND WHEN SHE DOES, AND IF WE HAVE TO COMMAND HER TO... WELL, I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU HAVE VERY MANY PLEASANT FEELINGS, MS. POPE, ABOUT BEING PANCAKED BY A STRAIGHT WOMAN'S THIGHS, WHEN YOU'RE THE SIZE OF A BUG.

Liv stands, and tries to run. She runs to the edge of the disc-shaped cast iron plate they've got her trapped on, and tries to dive off it.

Her chains stop her fall. She hangs upside down, and helplessly, gaping down at part of Mellie's inner thigh.

Telepathically, Cyrus chuckles. I KNEW YOU'D TRY TO DO THAT, IF I TOLD YOU. HENCE, THE CHAINS.

With that, the cast iron plate moves back to where it was. Liv is in the clear...for now, and for as long as it lasts.

SO JUST SETTLE DOWN, AND TAKE IT EASY WHILE YOU CAN, MS. POPE. I CAN'T PROMISE YOU THAT WE WON'T ACT IN HASTE. BUT I CAN PROMISE THAT EVERY NOW AND THEN, WE'LL RUN A SIM ON THIS CONTRAPTION. AND IF THE PLATE YOU'RE ON HAPPENS TO BE BETWEEN THE FIRST LADY'S THIGHS AT THE WRONG TIME... AS I SAID, ALL NEW TECHNOLOGY HAS ITS GLICHES. CONSIDER YOURSELF A MARTYR FOR PHILANTHROPY, IN CASE YOUR RECENT DEMISE HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH HOW NAUGHTY YOUR PIMP BECOMES, FOR AS LONG AS IT TAKES FOR HIM TO ACCEPT OUR VERY FAIR TERMS.

With that, the robotic arms get to torturing Aaron. He thrashes, and cries for help. None comes, of course.

Across the room, Mellie gapes, shivers, and whimpers, as she enjoys watching her MILF bait get tortured. And she claps her thighs together, of course. They sound almost like Tick-Tock, the crocodile, snapping his jaws, as he's chasing Capt. Hook in Disney's animated Peter Pan...

As they clap, Mellie's thighs generate wind. If Liv weren't still hanging from the chains from her vain escape attempt, she'd blow right off the cast iron plate. Instead, she bobs back and forth, like a wind chime in a storm.

"If I survive this," Liv mutters, "I will NEVER forgive Fitz for not divorcing Mellie..."