A/N: A tasty bit of overwrought crack written for a friend's anthology 10 years ago. Still fresh. Who can resist giant monsters?




Gojira L's Gamera

(Note: Gojira-Godzilla the 400-foot radioactive lizard and Gamera the giant space-turtle have never fought a battle together. Some have believed that this is due to copyright reasons. Others suspect deeper motives.)

The city is alive tonight, and it is not Tokyo or New York, it's a small city miles from nowhere, but no less a metropolis for its anonymity. It is a city for romance, for illicit meetings between monsters, for only in this Australian capital can monsters can meet and shooting stars fill the sky, and the tower on the hill be ignorant to it all.

Too far from the sea, from home. Gojira has had to travel many miles to be here, in this crossroads of earth and sky. At one with the dying, polluted planet he has cried out for Gamera, the land and the sea has cried out, and the radioactive earth cries - Gamera! Even as atoms decay within their shells the message comes to him in reply, of love and longing, of a monster of such power that even the great Gojira has dared not fight him.

Then: there he is, Gamera, between a park and and on-ramp. He is all curves - tusk and shell, arching brows over intense eyes. Gojira experiences a pang of fear and delight. He came, and he did not have to. Gamera came for him.

Gojira trembles, the soft, tender spot beneath his tail needing to be touched and stroked. How can he ask this of another kaiju? How can he bare himself so utterly, to be a lover, not a monster?

Gojira comes close and Gamera turns onto his back, a shockingly erotic move for a turtle, displaying trust and love and the paler surfaces of softer shell.

Gojira nuzzles each interlocking piece with almost startled reverence. There are scars there, healed injuries from battles with the most terrible monsters of the galaxy. Knife cuts, sonic-rays and iceburns. Each mark a tale of desperation and victory.

A surge of anger for all those who have hurt his lover flames through Gojira's body. This feeling is unlike anything the powerful kaiju has felt before. To be so close to another like him is to be delivering the coup-de-grace, to be in the hot climax of battle, limbs aching with exhaustion, skin scored and bleeding from the wounds of war. Gojira's twin hearts still pound as if in the middle of a fight, but the weight in his limbs is warm liquid. He does not want to kill but to possess Gamera's body. He bends over Gamera, his greater size dominant and protective and covetous all at once. Gamera accepts. Gojira breathes a fire-kiss into Gamera's parted mouth, past those noble, upturned tusks and into a throat that accepts the glorious gift of Gojira's body, his essence, his lifeforce, his terrible destructive power and transmuting it into an act of love.

Filled with the heat of his lovermonster, Gamera's legs wave and tremble in the frosty air. Stem billows from each jet-orifice, pre-climatic waves of pleasure buffeting him like tsunamis on a desolate shore.

Gojira's rubs his softer, sensitive belly against Gamera's own, and is pleased beyond measure at his lover's reaction. The monster's limbs clutch Gojira to him, hooking his long back legs over Gojira's fulsome haunches, riding him home.

Gamera's orgasm is sudden - he erupts in a shower of sparks and fire and Gojira is bathed in a delicious heat. Forepaws that can pick up lorries and mash skyscrapers together are tender as they cradle Gamera's shell until the tumult is over.

Then, when he is certain his lover has been satisfied Gojira allows his own peak. It is not violent, not terrible as he himself is to the millions that have fled his terrible towering presence. It is not frightening or awful, as Gojira long suspected this total submission to another might be. The summit of his desire is reached in an instant. His dorsal plates separate and tremble as if they were tuning forks buried into the deepest parts of a keening earth. He spurts fire, and each throb is so unbearably wonderful that he collapses upon Gamera's accommodating form. A move that could crush any other monster, but Gamera is the strongest of them all. He holds Gojira as Gojira held him, and when it is all over he monsters lie side to side, sated and complete.

Godzilla curls his tail protectively about his mate. The dawn sky peeks over the denuded hills. A beacon dims. It is time to leave. A pang of unbearable sweetness overwhelms the larger kaiju. They must battle monsters. They must do what is expected of them.

Can lizards cry? Crocodiles can and Gojira is a brother to those toothed prehistoric creatures. Gamera pulls away first. He casts one look at Godzilla, and the impossibility of their pairing is like the chasm that spans the universe.

How can anyone bear such longing without becoming damaged irreparably? Gamera might have a shell, but Gojira's gentle touches have damaged him more than any mutated giant has ever done. Gamera lets loose a scream of grief and is gone, escaping to the wide empty sky, the red clouds of sunrise like the wound upon their conjoined souls, and the Leonid meteor storm raining upon him like the trackmarks of a million monster tears.