Treat's Tats

 Treat was a miser. A penny pincher. A skinflint. He was a sex maniac too.

He was also the only tattooist on the island.

Treat's Tats was his shop name.

Eager punters came from across the isle to have their favourite tattoos inked on their bodies. 

Hands, feet, arms, legs, necks, bums, backs, faces, heads.

It was all fair game in the world of tats.

People had been decorating their bodies since the Stone Age and the island was no different. Tattoos were trendy and since the Queen had got one it was all the rage. The Queen's tats were the biz.

Treat was making decent spondoolis from his studio but he wanted more. There was a heated pool to build for his planned wild orgies with the island's lady folk.

But how to sell more tattoos and get the ladies over?

He pondered this puzzle for days, whilst tattooing his punters, when suddenly he saw an advert in the local farming rag one of them was reading. 

"RutMate: the new Pheromone siring serum:

Increase your herd with more Amorous Heifers and virile Bulls.

Just add to your cattle paint."

"Lemme see that Mrs. Milk, ta!"

Treat read it again.

Blimey!

More Amorous heifers! That means lady cows. And lady cows are still ladies! He could add it to his ink for his own lady clients and they'd be crazy for him and come back for more tats and hopefully a lot more how's your father!

Yes! Eureka through a speaker! 

But forget those virile bulls! 

The men weren't getting any. They were horny enough. After all, there was sod all else to do at night here except hump till dawn.

No, the men were out. Except him of course.

Treat would get ..... A treat!

The next day he rang the number.

"I want ten gallons of RutMate, mate!"

"Yes sir, that'll be £1,000."

"What? A grand!"

"Yes sir."

Treat scratched his head. There had to be a way of getting it cheap.

"I tell you what mate, if you donate it to my studio I'll give your Mother, wife, daughters and all your female friends and staff free tattoos for life. Waddaya say?"

The deal was agreed and the RutMate was delivered the very next day.

Treat began using it straight away on his female clients and sure enough they went into heat almost immediately, returning again and again for rampant sex and ever more tats.

Treat couldn't believe it. It was just too good to be true. The money was flowing in and he was getting his oats with the island's women folk like nobody's business.

His bed was a regular ink pad!

Yep, times were good at Treats Tats!

It wasn't long then before Treat had got his heated pool and organised his first pool party, naked of course! There'd be drinks, drugs, smokes and lots and lots of lady fun. He couldn't wait! 

It seemed as if all the island's ladies were there. The pool was brimming with women and all covered in Treats tats. It was tattoo heaven!

After siring as many ladies in one session as he could muster, Treat himself was relaxing on a lilo sipping a bloody Mary in the deep end wondering how much better his life could actually get. Sensing another rut coming on, he massaged his ample manhood, now stood to attention, as the lilo drifted to the middle.

The radio was playing a new pop song, My Ding a Ling, when the music suddenly stopped.

 "This is an urgent re-call for anyone who has used RutMate on their herd. Do not allow the heifers to immerse in water. It will result in instantaneous birthing of cannibalistic calves compelled to eat the fathering bull. All RutMate must be returned forthwith. Newsflash ended!" 

Treat was stunned. 

He took off his sunglasses and stared at the pool. Every single lady at the party was in the water!

He was surrounded!

Almost immediately the pool's surface began to bubble and foam. The ladies started to groan and wail, flailing their arms in the air, all yelling:

"It's coming out! I'm having a baby!"

Treat's manhood wilted instantly.

He tried to clamber off the lilo but there were simply too many convulsing ladies giving birth.

He was trapped!

The screaming crescendoed and the water frothed and spumed like a boiling lady soup all around him.

Suddenly, it went quiet.

Treat held his breath.

The first baby to appear popped up next to Mrs. Milk. Then the next in another spot, then the next and the next and ....

Before he knew it, there were at least a hundred babies bobbing on the surface and all staring at him on the lilo!

They licked their tiny lips and let out a dreadful growl and with their little gums gnashing they commenced to swim towards their father.

 Treat! 

He had sired them all!

The unfortunate father tried desperately to paddle away but the ravenous babies were heading towards him from every direction. Besides, the mothers, all still firmly attached, knew this first meal was crucial and barred Treat's way.

It wasn't long before the crop of newborns reached their quarry and without so much as a coochi-coo they devoured Treat in minutes, the pool turning a bright crimson in the process. 

Afterwards and with full bellies, they played with his sunglasses on the blood-soaked lilo, wriggling like little sharks and giggling together.

After a while the mothers reeled the babies back with their cords and everyone was very happy and contented as they got out of the water to dry off.

They all agreed that the pool party had been hugely productive.

"It's been a real treat!" Joked Mrs. Milk and everyone howled with laughter as their husbands arrived to pick them up.