A Goddess Marquesa Halloween Adventure



“Geez, Scoob! Who’s the pretty lady?” asked Shaggy, a trace of drool showing on the scruff of his chin, “And why is Velma crawling on the floor?” He and the other members of Mystery, Inc. had just been let into the front door of an attractive West Florida condo, to come face to face with an even more attractive West Floridian woman. She had blond hair and deep green eyes, and wore a low-cut aquamarine dress that showed off her magnificent breasts and gorgeous legs to stunning effect.

“Rikes!” grunted Scooby-doo. “Rime in ruv!”

“I’m in love, too, Scoob!” agreed Shaggy.

As soon as the gang had entered the foyer of the condo Velma had fallen to her knees and begun crawling forward toward their beautiful host. When she was right in front of the blond woman, Velma bent her head and began kissing the blond woman’s feet.

“Why hello, pet,” the green-eyed beauty intoned. “It’s been a while.”

“Goddess Marquesa!” Velma gasped between passionate kisses, “I’ve missed you sooo much. Thank you for agreeing to see us!”

“Ahem,” Fred coughed impatiently, clearing his throat theatrically to try and get Velma’s attention. “I hate to interrupt the reunion, but can anyone explain why we are here?”

Velma paused in her adoration of the Goddess and answered in clipped tones: “Goddess Marquesa is not only my Mistress, she is among the most brilliant women I know. I need her help to solve this mystery!”

Goddess Marquesa laughed. “I knew that you would need my help some day, pet. What’s on the menu?”

Velma stood, smoothed down her skirt, adjusted her glasses, and replied, “We got an anonymous tip of a ghost that haunts the abandoned marina every Halloween. Our initial investigation turned ugly very fast. A ghost appeared and attacked Shaggy!”

“Yeah, like check it out, man,” Shaggy whined, holding up his bandaged arm, “Snickety-smack, slippety-slack, he diced me like a Scooby Snack!”

“I couldn’t find any clues about who might be behind this apparition, and since it has become so dangerous I knew we would need the help of someone with real power,” Velma explained.


Shaggy and Scooby stared at Goddess Marquesa’s legs through the whole ride over to the abandoned marina in the Mystery Machine, but she did not seem to care, having lots of experience with weak-minded men. By the time they arrived at the docks the sun had already set, and the gates of the marina were shrouded in darkness and moonlight. On their first visit Fred had already pried open the gates, which had been clumsily chained shut to keep out intruders, so now the gang only had to shimmy through the gap.

“Roo rooky!” Scooby complained, cringing back before the shadows of the looming gateway.

“I’m with you and my throbbing arm, Scoob!” Shaggy agreed. “This place is too spooky! Count me out!”

“Would you boys go in for a Scooby Snack?” Daphne asked, tossing her red hair fetchingly and flashing a coquettish smile.

“Ruv it!” Scooby grunted.

“I know you’d love it, but will you do it?” Fred huffed, his patience once again slipping.

“Not ‘love it’, ‘shove it!’” Shaggy yelled. “As in, ‘take your Scooby Snack and shove it!’ Scoob has got the right idea on this one. You folks must be smoking something even wackier than I do if you want to go back into this shithole.”

“Forget a Scooby Snack,” Goddess Marquesa interjected, smiling, “If you boys go through the gate, I’ll let you both lick the soles of my feet when this is all done.”

Without another word, Shaggy and Scooby scurried through the gate, followed by the rest of the gang. As they walked through the decrepit offices, warehouses and boat sheds of the old marina, the shadows grew deeper. The air around them shuddered with odd creaks, ghostly whistles, and soft moans.

“Where is that creepy ghost?” Velma asked. “We encountered him long before we got this far into the marina on our last trip.”

“Like, maybe he’s gone to Disney World,” Shaggy wheezed. “You won’t hear me complain.”

Finally, as they turned a corner that brought them to a seaside dock, a glowing apparition appeared. It was the form of an ancient pirate, his skin green from long immersion in the salty deep. His hair was bound in a pirate’s scarf, his briny hand clutched a steel saber.

“Oh, no! It’s Captain Craptastic again!” Shaggy screamed.

The ghost bellowed with rage and rushed forward on the attack, but Goddess Marquesa stepped in front of Shaggy and held out her hand, palm forward in a gesture of command.

“Stop!” the Goddess ordered, standing straight with her eyes blazing, her tits thrust forward, and her gorgeous leg extended.

The ghost stopped in its tracks, its eyes wide, transfixed by the beauty of Goddess Marquesa’s face and body and the sheer power of her presence.

“Listen to My Voice,” the Goddess ordered, “You can feel yourself getting sleepy…sleepy….you cannot resist My commands….you find Me so alluring….so irresistibly sexy…..you want Me…you need Me…you adore Me…..”

The members of Mystery, Inc. watched and listened, amazed, as Goddess Marquesa wove her web of words. She bound the ghost in gossamer chains of desire, and after a few minutes she declared, “When I snap My fingers you will awaken. All thought of violence will be gone. You will be calm….tranquil….filled only with the desire for Me and to obey Me. One…two….three….”


The ghost stood still. His arm fell to his side, so that his saber clattered on the planks of the dock.

“That was amazing!” Velma exclaimed. “You are truly a Goddess, Mistress Marquesa! And look!” Velma continued, pointing to the crotch of the ghost’s trousers, “I knew this was a hoax! He has a hard-on! Let’s see who is behind this mask!”

Velma strode forward and reached up to rip the mask off of the ghost’s face, but her hand passed through the ghost’s head as if going through thin air.

“Oh, he’s a ghost all right,” Goddess Marquesa declared. “Even the dead cannot resist sporting wood for Me.”

“Then who is the culprit behind this mystery?” Velma asked. “Who brought us here with the anonymous tip?”

“It was Fred,” Goddess Marquesa answered in a matter-of-fact tone. “I noticed some seaweed clinging to his bell bottoms back at My condo. The same seaweed that you can see all over the docks here.” She pointed at the green fronds draped over the planks all around them. “He must have scouted the marina ahead of time and led you here for the ghost to work you over.”

“But why?” asked Velma.

Fred snorted in disgust. “Daphne and I are tired of sharing our proceeds with you and the moron twins here,” he spat. “We were going to let the ghost kill you and shack up together in Puerto Vallarta. I guess I will have to do the job myself.” On this last note, he pulled a snub-nosed pistol from his pants pocket and aimed it toward his targets.

“You won’t hurt Me,” Goddess Marquesa said.

“Oh yeah?” Fred asked. “Why the hell not?”

The Goddess laughed and pointed at Fred’s crotch. “Because you’re a man and you were listening to every word I said before,” she explained. Gesturing toward the mesmerized ghost, she continued, “You’re as much in My power as he is.”

Fred’s eyes went wide. Looking down, he saw that his cock was indeed stiffly erect. He began to tremble, then to stutter: “I…I….I….I…”

“Yes?” Goddess Marquesa asked, in the expectant tone of someone who knows what she will hear next.

“I must obey You, Mistress,” Fred intoned.

“Of course you must. On your knees, slave,” the Goddess commanded.

Fred complied.

“Now slide the gun over to Me.”

As Fred began to fulfill the Goddess’s order, Daphne let out a blood curdling scream. “He may be a man, but I’m not! Die!” Picking up the ghost’s discarded saber, Daphne charged at the Goddess.


Velma’s fist connected with Daphne’s jaw, sending her sprawling onto the dock, unconscious.

“Don’t touch my Mistress, bitch!”



An hour or so later, Velma, Shaggy, Scooby and Goddess Marquesa were gathered by the Mystery Machine as the police handcuffed Fred and Daphne and finished taking statements.

“What will you do with your new ghost slave?” Velma asked the Goddess.

“Hmmm…I don’t know,” the Goddess replied, “Spectral beings aren’t good for much other than mayhem. Perhaps he could be fun to use on trick-or-treaters, but other than that I’ll have to give it some thought.”

“We’ve got about all we need for now,” one of the police officers declared as he led Fred toward a police van. “Thanks for your help with this case, Goddess. This SOB cooked up what could have been the perfect crime.”

“I would have gotten away with it, too,” whined Fred, “if it weren’t for that meddling Marquesa!”



The End