kali and the birth of time




ella black




I


No one knew time like she knew time. She birthed time. She’d fucked her way into time and since she’d been around at the dawn of it, she knew time was of the essence. Her essence. When those suited folk that buried themselves in subways and towers, when they finally glanced at their blue-clouded ceiling only to gasp “I have no time!”, she sighed, for there was always plenty of time, they just hadn’t taken Her. And when young hopefuls stared at stars wondering when their time would come, she laughed. For time came easily and often. You just had to fuck Her.

It was curiously light in the garden and Kali was hungry. This was unusual, most unusual. For you see, to one who has never experienced the light of day, the existence of one extra star that night pricked at her cornea in much the same way as a laser reflecting off a magnifying glass might prick at one with a migraine. Add to this the fact that Kali, in place of a stomach, beheld a giant golden clock, and you may begin to understand her unusual situation. Light and hunger were two highly improbable occurrences in the existence of a being for which neither had ever existed.

I’m sorry, what? No, I didn’t say cock, I said clock. Clock, that infuriating dictator we use to garnish our walls and tell us that yes, once again we have overslept and missed tea with granny. Clock, the Napoleonic General we pretend doesn’t exist while it stealthily force feeds ticks through your aural cavity and into your liver. Clock, the sprung arms of humanity’s inevitable fois gras. Clock, in place of a stomach, Kali beheld a clock. Only Kali’s clock had never tocked. That was, until now. Now, it’s ancient cogs and wheels grumbled in that otherwise non-existent cavity beneath her ribs, and while it’s golden arms were yet to clack past their uniform position at the twelve, Kali’s clock was nonetheless making her hungry.

Similarly, that infuriating laser beam of starlight from above, not only was it proving to be horribly distracting, but it was making her horny. And it was getting closer. Fast.

Unbeknownst to Kali, the infuriating laser beam in question was actually the light trail of a being by the name of Desidero – and Desidero, if the concept of Time had existed at this moment, was pointedly and with great success proving that he could move faster than it. You see Desidero was a God, Desidero was the twin brother of (everyone’s favourite) Cupid, and Desidero was pissed off. Awesomely pissed off. In the true sense of the word “awesomely” - because Desidero was a God and therefore any verb used in relation to him was inherently awesome due to his innate Godliness.

Desidero: Desire. The God of all that wants, that lusts, that makes all that encounter him wet and hard (yet never, ever Hardly Wet). While Cupid (God of Love), may be the one that is meant to conquer all, Desire knew he was the one that truly ruled. Desidero knew that the placement of Himself between loving couples would cause them, uncontrollably, to split. He knew that if they didn’t split in body, their minds would forever wander His plains, seeking out His fruits for their climaxes. On the other hand, Desidero knew that placing himself within the body of each lover would enable them to whether any storm. For the spark of Love is Desire and Desire is the only true maintainer of Love’s spark - when there is fucking involved, of course.

Yes, Desidero knew his power. It was for this reason, that being called “Dero” by his insolent brother infuriated him beyond belief.

The God Of Desire’s Name Shalt NOT Be Cut Down To The Common Abbreviation For A Derelict! The God Of Desire’s Name Shalt Be Spoken With Rolling R’s Or Nought At All! Oh Love, Thou Art Certainly A Mighty CUNT Sometimes Aren’t You?

It is here that Desidero would like to note that yes, it is grammatically correct to begin each word a God speaks with a capital letter, because every word a God speaks has brevity. It is also here that your humble scribe would like to note that, from here on in, she will be ignoring this rule of Godly grammar because she finds it horribly tedious to type. Desidero will not be raining hellfire upon her in this instance, as he concedes she is telling the story (quite well she would like to add) of the greatest fuck of all time - time being of the essence.

Now may be a good time to note that Kali herself is a Goddess. However, seeing as Kali knew of no Gods existing before Her primordial self gave birth to Time itself, it is also important to note that this Godly self-knowledge did not exist. If the fat sleeping serpent that lived in her garden knew of her goddess nature, it surely wasn't about to tell her. For sentient or not, every Thing knows that the minute a Godly being becomes aware of their own power, is the same minute that Godly being becomes an egotistical fuckwit.

Hence we have her, Kali: hungry, horny and completely unaware of the fact that she is about to fuck her way into the birth of Time. She is the true Virgin. She is willing to commence rubbing herself up a tree if it means the cessation of desire. And that blasted light is, quite literally, doing her head in.

When Desidero finally does land - epiphany of fiery sparks, the Lord’s name heatedly taken many times (though not in vain due to aforementioned Godly nature), great cyclone of heady pheromones enough to make any human being forego all rights to land, ownership, money or small dogs – Kali is ready.

Desidero, blinking adjusts his eyes to the sight before him. She is the whitest of white. Her skin has never been touched by light. Her hair, blacker than the star speckled sky above, rolls down her back in thick tendrils, almost with a mind of its own. Desidero in fact was sure one of her tendrils hissed at him, before he was completely and utterly taken aback by her tongue. This tongue was the tongue of a goddess. This tongue managed to not only loll from her oral cavity in a manner that said it had the capacity to kill you, pleasure you and disgust you all the same time, it managed to loll from her oral cavity and entirely encapsulate Desidero’s slightly concussed, though nonetheless permanently hard cock. Not knowing any better, this very same tongue was in the process of drawing said cock into Kali’s throat, where apparently, it was to be digested whole.

II


The dance of desire is oft likened to a tango. The male, one firm hand on his partner’s lower back, the other clasping her feminine digits, struts about the dance floor as confident as a rooster. The female, roused by this surety submits to his lead, and in the embrace is made equally powerful. As she is spun in and out of his grasp the two bodies, physically captured in the driving rhythm of desire stalk and swirl until the inevitable climax. She falls back, spine arched, leg raised, hand-hold relinquished as his body stiffens and grips hers, and with one last almighty thrust the two pause in tension, before softening and, dozy and breathless return, with a cordial bow, to their original positions.

The position Desidero now found himself in, however, was a far call from this familiar dance. Quite frankly, the chances of a tango commencing with the male counterpart being ingested by the female is not only severely out of the ordinary, Desidero found it rather alarming. In fact, if it weren’t for the sensations Kali’s pulsating oesophagus were inflicting on the God of Desire’s startled cock, Desidero may just have relinquished his name and everything he stood for, just to get the hell out of there. But damn it all, this creature’s throat was divine and rather than retreat, the God let go and thrust.

Gripping the back of Kali’s head he pulled her firmly towards him, yet rather than retract (as most virgins were wont to do), her throat pulsed harder and swifter. Hungry tendrils of her hair snaked around his wrists, holding him in place, wound around his thick dark thighs and slid up his back while Desidero hammered himself again and again into that gaping oral cavity until, with a force that momentarily sucked all light from the stars above, he exploded inside her, thick wads of silvery goo shooting into the place where her stomach was not. Deep within the belly of the goddess a golden cog slipped into place.

Tick.

Kali stared down at the creature, passed out and snoring at her feet. What the fuck just happened? What thing had exploded in front of her? What thing, not entirely dissimilar to herself was speaking through its nose in the tongue of a piglet? And what, in Her own name, had this thing done to make the hunger lessen? The gears at her belly, as a result of Desidero’s tumultuous ejaculation, no longer bore against each other like molars in a fit of anxiety. Yes, something about that silvery sex sputum had definitely enabled them to slip.

Tock.