Tied Up

It had been less than four days since she had landed on the human planet, vaguely disguised by the power of Doc Scratch. The Condesce had to admit that she was impressed with the being's power. Being able to trick an entire planet into seeing her as a life form that she wasn't even remotely close to being was no small feat, after all.

Not that his powers were perfect. She was still abnormally tall and abnormally gray, not enough to get her driven out of the apartment that Doc Scratch had arranged for her but just abnormal enough to drive off any potential companions. Not that she needed constant companionship of any kind, but four days alone with only whispers at her back had started to grind on her. She felt the itch to cull every human that stared at her when they thought she wouldn't notice.

Culling, much like her other precious Alternian traditions, was considered "crime" on Earth. The Condesce had been taking notes on the planet and humans, watching for any potential weaknesses for when she would inevitably conquer them. Surely that lack of will to cull the weak and regulate mating seasons was one of those weaknesses? And yet they seemed to breed like hopbeasts ('rabbits' as the weaker Earth counterpart was called?), which was nonsensical. She needed more up close research, yet how was she to do that when no one would give her the time of day?

Perhaps today would be her chance to get up close and personal. The troll glanced at the poster that she had tacked to her wall, decorated with humans dressed like bastardizations of her beloved Grand Highblood. The paper proudly announced that a show was looking for more members to join its motley crew, and that anyone who was an "oddity" or a "mutant" would be welcome and paid a fair sum as long as they could prove their talent.

Well, the Condesce was nothing if not talented, and Doc Scratch had made it clear that in the coming months she would have to pay her own bills with human currency (so many different kinds, obviously another sign of their barbaric society). If she had to work around the humans she might as well take her chances with clowns, as she certainly had enough experience with them.

The tryout was that afternoon, leaving her with very little time to get herself ready. She peered into the mirror as she tried to tame her long black curls. Her human face, dark skinned and tinged with gray, stared back at her from within the glass. There had only been so much that Doc Scratch had been able to do with her cloak, leaving her hair still tangling around her horns and her eyes fuschia.

After a few minutes of wrestling with her hair and losing she gave up, instead deciding to just put on her outfit and call it a day. She had a gray-tinged "nude" suit given to her by Doc Scratch in order to hide the "troll bits" that he had been unable to cloak. From a distance she truly did look like a naked human without the genitalia, but up close it was very clear that it was a suit. She frowned before pulling on some of the other clothing that Doc Scratch had provided her.

Most of it was far too frumpy for her to even consider, but the black lingerie... yes, she could definitely make that work. The Condesce pulled it on, ignoring the fact that the bottoms were a bit too snug on her hips, and then put on as much jewelry as she could manage. Necklaces dangled over where her cleavage would be, hiding the neck line and the obvious creases from where the fabric pulled over her barely supported breasts.

She covered up with a trenchcoat for the walk down to the tryouts, checking herself in the mirror before picking up her identification cards that Doc Scratch had created for her.

"The fuck is a 'betty', Doc?"

She was sure that if the puppet had a mouth he'd be smirking, but instead her settled with folding his hands in his lap. "Betty is you. It's your new name."

"What the fuck is your prawn-blem, Doc? My name's fine! They need to learn to fear it, anemone-way!"

"You're not the queen yet, my dearest Condescension. 'Meenah' is too uncommon and would call too much attention to yourself. Betty is unassuming. Betty is innocent. Betty is someone who could easily gain the trust of a people they're trying to conquer. Or do you not agree?"

The Condesce had been ready for stares as soon as she arrived outside the circus tent. She was pleasantly surprised to receive only one or two, the rest of the crowd simply brushing past her as though she was normal.

It was different than within the main city, that was for sure. After a moment she decided to follow the general direction of the crowd, looking for any sort of sign that would point her towards the tryouts. Her search ended when she saw a barkbeast man slip into a smaller tent. She quickly followed after him, noting the paper taped to the flap that said "LOOKING FOR NEW RECRUITS". Or something similar. Her Earth English wasn't the strongest.

Before she could even get a handle on her surroundings she was grabbed by a male half dressed in clown garb. Her first instinct was to be furious at his lack of respect for the outfit (if the Highblood was still alive he would have been furious, probably flayed the man right then and there), but she was shoved into a chair on the other side of the tent before she could say anything.

"Name and current occupation," he said without an introduction.

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," the clown said simply, looking up from his clipboard. He had a no nonsense look on his face, and the Condesce knew that trying to fight him would only lead to trouble. Perhaps later, after she had infiltrated the troupe...

"Whale, my name is Betty. Current-ly unemployed. You gonna tell me your name, shrimp?"

He looked up at her from over his clipboard, a single heavily made up eyebrow arched. "I sincerely hope that water puns aren't the only thing you came in here to show us, Ms. Betty. No last name?"

"I asked you a question." The Condesce stared him down, nearly eye level with him despite sitting. He shifted, uncomfortable, obviously trying to figure out whether it was worth testing the patience o

"Marty is my stage name. If you get selected you can learn my real one," he scribbled something else on the pad before looking back at her, "Now, you obviously have the look of a performer. Where are you from? Er, where is your persona fr

"Never gave much of a carp aboat that shit. Some underwater kingdom? All I got is that I'm the best queen you folks'll ever sea, and that's the damn truth!"

The clown sighed again, rubbing his temples. "We'll work on it if you get picked. Show me what you can do."

The Condesce froze, unsure of what he meant. Surely just showing up looking like a giant woman was enough, right? Or was there some human language barrier that she had run up against? She looked over to the left, trying to see what her competition was doing. One man was breathing fire. Another appeared to entirely dislocate the bottom half of his body (she'd have to look into that later). Did he perhaps mean some strange thing that she could do with her figure...?

Marty the Clown coughed, obviously impatient and wanting to move on. So she did the first thing that came to her mind that wasn't a violent troll tendency: contorted.

She stood up on the ricketedy chair and tried to steady herself as it wobbled and warped under her weight. This caught the attention of the clown once again, though he made no move to try to help her steady her perch.

Taking in a deep breath she slowly lifted her right leg, bending it behind her neck in order to assume a crane pose. It was pretty effortless due to how flexible trolls were, but she was a bit out of practice due to not having any reason to stretch in such extreme ways recently. She had to admit it felt nice as she tried to not hit the back of her neck with her shoe.

The chair continued to quiver and she really wished that she hadn't worn shoes so that she could dig her toe claws into the wood. She looked back at Marty, cocking her head. "Whale?"

He was scribbling on the clipboard, nodding. "A contortionist, huh? Not bad. Have any other tricks or just this one?"

The Condesce unfurled her leg from around her torso, planting herself back on the chair as she considered. On the chair she was too tall to completely stretch her leg up without brushing the roof of the small tent, her horns already uncomfortably (and invisibly) poking at the fabric.

With a little huff she bent over, grabbing the front of the seat before digging her claws into the wood beneath. She quickly raised herself into a handstand, bending her knees as soon as she felt her toes touch the tent. After taking a moment to make sure the chair would stay stable, or at least stable enough that she wouldn't topple over, she pushed her stomach out, pulling her hips back down towards her slowly.

Her spine popped as it flexed, pushing her ribcage out as her rear came closer to her head. Her torso was basically at a ninety degree agree with her straightened arms, the hips one eighty with the floor. The Condesce pushed her head up slightly in order to both look at the clown and meet her head with her butt, subtly adjusting her legs so that they went around her horns.

She could feel the chair creaking under her weight, whining in a way that felt as though it was going to snap at any moment. Marty was scribbling more notes on the clipboard, nodding approvingly while trying to keep her eyes away from the generous rear in front of him. The Condesce couldn't blame him for that, after all. Her ass was rather amazing.

The troll moved from the headseat back into a hand stand before bending herself off the chair, forming an arch for a moment before releasing the wood and pulling back up into a standing position. "How about now, shrimp?"

He pursed his lips before sighing. "We have more than enough contortionists for the show proper, unfortunately. You're probably too heavy for any of the others to carry, anyway. Not a dig at you or anything... you're just, well, large."

She couldn't disagree with that. "So what does that mean? Just pack it up and sail away?"

"No, no. Not quite. You see, we weren't just recruiting for the main show. We were also looking for features for our sideshow. Basically it's a group of people who look extremely different or can do extreme things that don't fit into the circus proper. I'm sure that they'd love to have someone like you."

"Would I still be gettin' paid? Otterwise it's no deal."

He waved his hand dismissively. "Yes, yes, of course. Now, if you're interested I could show you to the master of the sideshow?"

The Condesce mulled over her options. One part of her was offended and outraged that she was being designated to some side tent, out of the spotlight where she obviously belonged. The other part, the part that Doc Scratch constantly tried to appeal to, was pointing out that she needed the money and that this would only be a temporary thing anyway. What was the harm of contorting and sticking around some clowns for a little while while she studied humanity? There were definitely worse ways to spend her current time on Earth.

"Eh, why not? Shore, I'll meet the guy."

Marty nodded, putting the clipboard under his arm as he gestured towards the tent entrance. "Right, if you'll just follow me then." Without another word he started walking, and the Condesce made a mental note to teach the humans how to treat someone of her position with respect once she took over. Still, she followed, ducking under the flap and walking briskly in order to keep up with the clown.

"I'm sure the master will love you. He's always had a thing for, uh, very powerful and large women. We had someone like you a while back, but the ringmaster ended up trading her for a lizard man. Loren was furious, but there's not much you can do once the ringmaster decides you're useless. Never understood the need for either of 'em, though. At least you can bend."

She was having a hard time following any of his words since he talked so fast. English still wasn't her strong point so she found herself nodding along, tuning him out as they approached a larger tent. Marty waved her in, stopping her at the entrance as he headed to the back. The empress took the moment to study her surroundings.

It was hard to see through the crowds but it looked like there were glass containers set up, reaching to the top of the tall tent. Within the first one that she looked within was a plastic tree, a man covered in thick hair perched on top. He looked like some sort of monkey or bear (the Condesce couldn't decide which was a better descriptor), and he was snarling and growling at the crowd. They cheered as he bristled at them, backing away from the glass as he came closer.

That was the moment that she realized that this was probably what she was signing herself up for, at least temporarily. A life inside of a glass cage where she would simply be stared at. Grateful that she had pulled back on her trench coat, she turned away from the man, rage bubbling inside of her stomach.

"Betty, you can come back now." Marty's voice carried well above the muttering of the crowd, and she pushed her way through the people with ease. She was greeted by the clown and another man, who was looking at her expectantly.

"Marty says you're a contortionist. Care to show me what you can do?"

Did no one on Earth introduce themselves before making demands? If she hadn't felt yanked around all day perhaps she would have been more amused than annoyed, but as it stood she was growing impatient. Without a word she dropped to the floor, moving immediately into a chest stand. Due to her earlier stretching the position was easy, her spine bending into the near ninety degree angle quickly.

Aware that they weren't going to be impressed by a simple chest stand she pulled her hips forward back over her head, stretching out her arms and digging her claws into the ground so that she didn't end up sliding. Her spine popped slightly as she pulled her rear as far as she possibly could. She then twisted her legs forward, planting her knees right beside her elbows and folding her toes at the edge of her rib cage.

She looked up at the master and Marty, who were both nodding approvingly. Loren - he was the master, wasn't he? - looked at the folded woman before nodding again. "How long can you hold that?"

It wasn't a particularly uncomfortable position for her, and the Condesce would even go so far as to say that it felt very nice. Perhaps after a few hours she'd feel very sore, but trolls were known for their hardiness and she was definitely not an exception. "I can hold this for as long as you want me to."

"As long as I want you to? Are you sure?"

She looked up at him. "Is that a challenge?"

He smiled, tapping his foot on the floor. "Perhaps. Can you hold that position while Marty and I go out to deliberate? Nothing personal, but the last time we had an Amazonian she couldn't do much of anything and we ended up having to get rid of her. A damn shame, if you ask me, so I'd rather that not happen again."

"Obvi-fish-ly I can do shit, though. Now I gotta prove I can hold it? Why, gonna stuff me in the cage and then just tell me to hold a split all damn day?" She hadn't meant to snap but there was only so much she could take. Loren's smile fell.

"Actually, yes, most likely. We'll probably put you in with one of our smaller residents so you can lift her... the crowds get a kick out of size differences. So hold that and we'll bring Barbara in so we can test out the potential performance, alright?"

The sideshow attractions were the usual ones, to his knowledge. He lazily looked over the people within the cages, only stopping for a brief moment before moving on. It was so easy to find bearded women and men tattooed as lizards. The Colonel needed something more exciting to catch his fancy.

His curiosity was piqued at the sight of a crowd gathered outside of a glass that was surrounded by dark curtains the hid whatever the container held from outside viewers. It was mostly men ogling whatever creature was within, their wives trying to pull them away. That was promising, to say the least. Even if it wasn't exciting, perhaps he could be promised an attractive woman before he departed the sideshow.

What greeted him was a shock. He pushed through the crowd in order to get as close to the glass as possible. A large - no, giant - woman was doing a perfect split between two hanging vines, and she made it look completely effortless. She was decorated in bright jewelry and little more than decorated underwear, her long curls deliberately styled in front of her rather generous bust.

The Colonel met her bright purple eyes, and he could have sworn that he saw a flash of bright orange within the white. It was gone when he blinked but he was definitely certain that it had been there.

He was distracted by a fat little man stepping forward to the side of the glass. The woman seemed to notice him as well, pushing her split even further. Her feet began to slide from the vine as the angle of her legs increased, and soon she was holding on with strangely clawed toes.

"Ladies and gentlemen, our show is about to begin! Before you stands Peixes, queen of a lost African nation made entirely of gold and jewels! As far as we know she's the last surviving member of her people, and we are lucky to have her gracing our prescence! Queen Peixes, your people request an audience!"

At that she lazily looked down before unhooking her front leg and dropping to the ground, landing on her toes with her opposing leg still straight up in the air. Such a drop would have at least made a normal human stumble, the Colonel thought, and yet she had landed so delicately without a single hesitation... Was she perhaps not as human as they claimed?

No, that was ridiculous. It was all trickery. She was probably just some abnormally tall contortionist. Right? Her voice ripped him from his thoughts.

"I must obvi-fish-ly obey the call of my subjects. Watch and sea what your queen can do!"

Were those fish puns? Perhaps they hadn't quite worked out the quirks of the performance yet. She hadn't been on any of the advertisements, after all, so perhaps she was still new.

Then she began to move. Peixes bent back into an arch, pushing her stomach up until she was only being supported by her toes and fingertips. It wasn't anything overly impressive.

And then the man stepped upon her and she didn't even falter. Colonel Sassacre heard himself gasping along with the rest of the crowd as the small man stood on top of her stomach. He bowed as the Queen started to shuffle backwards on her tip toes and fingertips, not once breaking that perfect arc that she had created.

Once she was a fair distance from the front of the glass the man dropped to his knees, clutching her wide hips. One of her long, gorgeous legs lifted from the ground, followed closely by the other. Still on her finger tips she moved into a handstand, straightening her arms as the man climbed her legs as if she was a tree, shuffling around so that his feet were on balanced on her large posterior.

Still on her fingers she turned and lifted her head to look at the audience, and the Colonel met the Queen's bring fuschia eyes again. She smirked at him, not breaking that contact as she separated her legs into a side split. They didn't stop moving until they were parallel with the floor, and the man stepped onto her spread inner legs, balancing triumphantly.

Sassacre was pretty sure she hadn't blinked once during the entire move. No, he was certain, because he hadn't blinked either and his eyes were watering now. The crowd's cheering suddenly became deafening in his ears as he was hurled back into reality.

She still hadn't dropped to her palms, still only balanced by the tips of her fingers, her arm muscles flexed. After another moment she continued to split her legs, the man on top of her leaping off as her toes finally touched the floor next to her fingers.