7 - Tale of the Sideshow - The Leech Girl

Jason lit a cigarette off of the candle nearest to him. Hands rough with scars and calluses. He wore no special costume, just black jeans and work boots, a worn jean jacket over a black v-neck.

"Y'all know I come from carny folk. Town to town with the seasons. Been a lot of places. Heard a lot of stories. Seen a lot of things. Ain't nothing quite stuck with me like the time I spent on this one particular sideshow. Today, they call 'em human oddities. Sounds a lot nicer than freaks. Don't see many shows like that these days. Times have changed. But this one outfit I was with, they were...old school."

His dreads, tied back, shook a little. "Or maybe that's not the right word. I didn't know quite I was getting into until I saw

THE LEECH GIRL

Sex legends are eternal. You get folks with lots of hormones and no sex education worth mentioning, and they get strange ideas. Used to be, people thought you could prevent pregnancy by pouring Coca-Cola into a pussy after a good hard fuck. Or that Chinese girls had slits that went horizontal instead of vertical. I've met men today who think fucking a virgin will cure their Covid, or that jelqing can make their dicks better. Those are the fun, silly legends.

I first caught sight of Dagon's Hollow on a pleasant evening. Sky was clear. It's a dark skies town, all the outside lamps covered so you can see the stars when they come out. We were part of the prep team, set to go ahead, map out where the runway would be, where the sideshow and rides would go. Talk to the police, the local newspaper, get people excited. Laying the ground for the trucks and trailers that would come in tomorrow.

The boss had given me a special task. An address for a pick up. New performer. So I drove the truck down to Olmstead St. and knocked on the door. The woman who opened it looked like someone's grandmother. Grey hair, print dress, sad eyes behind horn-rim glasses. Her living room was immaculate. Cosies on everything, but no photos, not a one. She sat me on the couch and told me about a leech girl.

"The young women in this town, a rumor started that one way to prevent or end a pregnancy was to place a leech in the vagina," she explained. "A stupid, silly idea. Except one girl, her mother was into alternative medicine. She actually had leeches, for bleeding patients. The girl had been spending too much time with her boyfriend. So one afternoon, she slipped into her mother's office, pulled down the jar of leeches, slid her panties aside and stuffed the cold, slimy thing into her pussy lips."

"Well, the girl got pale, and sick. Throwing up all the time. Lost a lot of weight. Her mother, who didn't believe in modern medicine, tried to treat her. The bleedings from the leeches didn't help. Or the diet, the crystals, the potions. By the time the school and the social workers stepped in, the pregnancy was too far advanced to be aborted, and the anemia and morning sickness had gotten so bad that the beautiful young girl was little more than skin and bones."

I didn't know why the old woman was telling me this, but I didn't interrupt. It seemed like she needed to get it off her chest.

"A hard birth. She was too weak. Too much blood was lost. Had some kind of seizure, right as they were cutting for the baby. Didn't survive. Her mother was charged for neglect, skipped town. So I was left to take care of the baby. My great-granddaughter. I tried to raise her right, but it's been hard. The children, you know, they can be mean. The story spread. The leech girl."

Soft steps on stairs, a creek. I turned to see the frail, pale young woman with straw-colored hair and budding breasts. The face...I could see the scar, where the surgeon's scalpel must have cut too deep, during birth, erasing the nose. But that didn't explain the lack of lips, the circular maw of small, blunt teeth. The all-too-human grey eyes.

She set her suitcase down on the floor so that she could sign with both hands.

Her name was Amelia. The boss would label her as the Leech Girl.

Later, I would learn why her great-grandmama was sending Amelia away. That it had less to do with the cruel legend, and more about a very different kind of reputation that Amelia had developed. One I found out about as I drove her back to what would be her new home and career.

I had hardly gotten the engine running when her hand went to my crotch. She looked at me, with those all-too-human grey eyes, and I saw something flicker, deep in that cavernous, gaping hole that served her as a mouth. It had to be her tongue. I knew it couldn't be a leech, no matter how much the small, dark thing looked like it. My hands clenched that steering wheel hard, the whole trip back, as she freed my cock and engulfed it in one easy, practiced swallow.

Something tickled my glans, swirling around it. And maybe it was a bump in the road, which sent my cock just a little too far, made it hit her palate or something. Yet I swear it felt like something bit the tip.

Jason blew out a plume of smoke, and the candle flame went with it.