It’s Cormac Brown’s Friday Flash Fiction time again, after a short layoff, and he chose this weeks routine. Instead of a starter sentence he gave four words that had to be included in the story but in no particular order. Those words were: Manic, Panic, Organic and Non-Corrosive.
I started one story and didn’t like it at all and for whatever reason, this one came to mind. Sorry if you’re offended but it is Fiction.
Hope you enjoy…
The Alien Cometh.
Panic was setting in. He’d been tied to the bed for way too long now and the worst thing about it was that he was tied face down and the door into the room was behind him. It was a four-poster and his hands and feet were tied to each post. And, he was butt naked.
There was no response.
Laughter. Manic laughter.
He struggled against the ropes, trying to twist himself this way and that to see behind him.
He heard footsteps, more than one set. And then talking, but not a language he had ever heard. It was gibberish, with clicks and high-pitched squeaks, almost alien.
“What’s going on back there? Untie me now.”
More laughter, followed by more gibberish.
The beads of sweat that covered his nakedness shimmered in the unnatural bright light of the room. He sensed movement at the end of the bed and then a shifting of weight as someone or something climbed on. Rough hands touched his ankles and made their way slowly up his calf muscles, massaging them.
“Get your hands off me.”
The hands caressed the backs of his thighs, long fingers stroking up the insides of his legs. He tensed, trying with all his strength to break free of the ropes so he could stop the wandering hands.
“Get the fuck off me.”
There was no response. The hands kept making their way up the insides of his thighs. But then he felt it. His eyes opened wide at the thought. A gust of air followed by a snort and then air again. The hands stroked his balls and a finger ran up his butt crack.
“What the fuck?”
The hands were then on his back, rubbing in the beads of sweat as they made their way towards his neck. The gust of air again, only this time on the back of his neck and then near his ear. The stench was horrific. It was bad breath at its worst.
“I hope that breath of yours is non-corrosive. My eyes are fucking melting. GET OFF ME.”
And that was when he felt it. It was hard and pushing at him. He tried to tense himself but the pressure was too much.
The camera’s stopped rolling and the bright lighting was turned down.
“Great scene, Randy. Fucking mind blowing, man. Ok, people. Five minutes and I want Randy’s ass double in here. We want some fucking great, deep penetration shots from this next scene. Come on people, move your fucking asses.”
“Randy got off the bed and walked over to the director, his twelve inch penis swinging between his legs.
“Great work Randy.”
“I hope your breath is non-corrosive? Who the fuck wrote that? We need better script writers Ron, if we’re going to make it big time.”
“Randy, your cock is going to make us big time.”
Randy B’Stard turned round at the voice. The alien who was on the bed with him stood in the middle of the room, legs bent, shaking the huge fake penis in his hand.
“Yeah, fuck you Michael.” Randy shouted.
“Randy, don’t worry man. It’s totally organic,” he shouted back, pulling it off and biting into it.
Please leave a comment and let me know what you think…