Tagged: animal

“Maybe Fleur has a Point”

  • by jenBreak out the macrame vests and the hip huggers!
  • it’s lust, pure and simple
  • eating pasta barehanded
  • hallucinating and perspiring greatly
  • catch your own squid and harvest the ink by hand

Tune in next time part 777      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Maybe Fleur has a point,” Tessa said. “Where are we running to?”

“Trust me,” I said. “I’m a general. I know my way around a Contrarian Royal Airship. We’ll find a place to hole up together. But first I need some clothes. Preferably not a uniform, so I blend in.”

“Break out the macrame vests and the hip huggers!”

Tessa always wants me to dress like a hippie. It’s lust, pure and simple. She likes it best when the hip huggers are paisley. If I’m also eating pasta barehanded while hallucinating and perspiring greatly, it’s like porn to her.

“The costume closet is beside the aquarium,” I said. “Let’s go.”

“While I choose your outfit, you hop in the tank, catch your own squid and harvest the ink by hand,” Tessa purred. “That way we can give each other tattoos!”

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John Got Down on His Knees

  • by jenJust smile and wave, guys.  Just smile and wave.
  • Wombat herds?
  • inevitably got molasses on their shoes
  • “Is your throat lined with copper?”
  • used the expression “off the chain”

Tune in next time part 719      Click Here for Earlier Installments

John got down on his knees and pulled a magnet out of his pajama pocket. As he ran it over the surface of the ice he explained that it was controlling switches frozen deep inside.

Suddenly Mr Carousel skidded up beside me. “I’m so glad you’ve reconsidered! We at the Royal Contrarian Icecapades can’t wait to have you as our featured performer!” He nodded at John. “You and your friend can skate together as a pairs act, and at the end during the rapturous applause, you know what you do?” He waggled his eyebrows impressively. “Just smile and wave, guys. Just smile and wave. The crowds will love you! Soon you’ll be swimming in cash, and sportszeppelins, and wombat herds!”

John looked up eagerly. “Wombat herds?” He’d always wanted a wombat. A whole herd of them might prove as irresistible as honeyed pancakes. I couldn’t let him be distracted now.

“You know what happened to all the Academy’s wombat herders, John,” I said. “They inevitably got molasses on their shoes. You don’t want that, do you?”

He got a dreamy look in his eye and completely forgot about his magnet-fiddling. “But… their little squishy faces! They’re so fuzzy!”

“Have you forgotten about the pancakes?” demanded Fleur. “Is your throat lined with copper?” Her ferocious tone pulled him back from his wombat stupor. “Restart this airship immediately. Later you can ice skate with marsupials. I have never used the expression “off the chain”, but it will be that.” She glared at him with her fiery blue eyes. “Restart. The. Engines.”

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The Sudden Lurch of the Zeppelin

  • by jenShut the fuck up, my dude!
  • (or, as he called it, “feesh”)
  • hide from him in the dark
  • flammable urine
  • Plus, we have tiaras

Tune in next time part 689      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The sudden lurch of the zeppelin could spell disaster for my rapidly spinning brother and his wife, or — if we were all very, very lucky — it might jolt them back to stability. I crossed my fingers and ran for the down escalator. Mr Carousel kept pace with me, dangling ever-more-exotic perks to entice me to sign an Icecapades contract.

“Shut the fuck up, my dude!” I barked, but he took no heed, explaining how, if I wanted, I could have a practice rink constructed over an aquarium so that my pet fish (or, as he called it, “feesh”) would never be left alone. I couldn’t help thinking that if I was Mr Carousel’s pet fish I would hide from him in the dark recesses of the sunken pirate ship decorating my tank.

“You want flammable urine?” Mr Carousel improbably said. “I can talk to the team bioengineer about getting you flammable urine. Plus, we have tiaras for all of our star skaters!”

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I Could Still Taste the Slug

  • by jenhad sex with the devil in exchange for magical powers
  • a Grade IV erection
  • very diabolical piece of
  • pantyhose on his head
  • spitting with impunity

Tune in next time part 663      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I could still taste the slug, or perhaps it was the PA’s fingers. I turned my head and spat into the wastebasket. Twice.

“There is no spitting with impunity on my set,” the voice from the ceiling said. “Put the pantyhose on his head.”

I was so distracted by the idea that anyone these days would have pantyhose on demand that I failed to dodge Dr Ferguson. Before I knew what hit me, my face was smooshed inside the tube of sheer fabric held in place by a very diabolical piece of knot-tying artistry.

“I think you like that,” Dr Ferguson cooed, trailing her fingers down my torso. “This is a Grade IV erection at least.”

“We can’t proceed until he reaches Grade VII,” ceiling-voice said.

“Luckily,” Dr Ferguson breathed into my ear, “I had sex with the devil in exchange for magical powers of seduction.”

And then she did something astounding with her hand that I am at a loss to describe.

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“Stop Crouching”

  • by jentie-dye crocs
  • witnessed his mother commit adultery in the back seat
  • at a depth of 500 feet
  • wasn’t in his mouth very long
  • hands of a stranger

Tune in next time part 659      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Stop crouching,” Dr Ferguson said. “It’s about as erotic as a pair of tie-dye crocs.”

The sweet warmth permeating my body felt extremely erotic. I knew it must be radiating off me, and it surprised me that Dr Ferguson couldn’t feel it, too. I felt like a man, like a sexual beast, and not at all like someone who once witnessed his mother commit adultery in the back seat of a private submarine at a depth of 500 feet.

I must not have stopped crouching, because Dr Ferguson sighed dramatically and joined me on the floor. As soon as she was close, I stuck out my tongue and licked her from navel to chin. “How’s that for erotic?” I said like Angela Tyrannosaure, my tongue thick with desire.

“Abort! Abort! He’s got the third slug!” a tinny voice cried from the ceiling.

I collapsed in slow motion, swimming through a flurry of sudden activity around me. Someone grabbed my head. “At least it wasn’t in his mouth very long,” that someone said as they wrestled with my tongue.

Behind me there was a pair of tugging sensations, and abruptly my skin felt cold and clammy, especially on my back. My eyes came into focus and I saw the trio of icicle slugs resting in the latex begloved hands of a stranger.

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Dr Ferguson Reached Again for my Waistband

  • by jenwhy would you ever need more than one cat
  • some secrets are just not meant to be uncovered
  • feeling each other up in your pantry
  • shiny because of bug secretions
  • “Who whistles for this long?”

Tune in next time part 655      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Dr Ferguson reached again for my waistband. Before she could accomplish anything, I heard someone clear their throat. My eyes were focusing on things beyond this world, things in the realm of sensuality, and it was nearly impossible to scan the room for the mystery throat-clearer.

I wondered if it might be Deuce Pamplemousse after all, but the pale bald head suggested not.

In an outrageously accented, smarmy voice, he said, “Look at your back! Why would you ever need more than one caterpillar aphrodisiac? Is your manliness so meager?”

“Hello, Arlo,” I snarled. “They’re not caterpillars. They’re slugs, which means they must be related to you.”

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” The viscount punctuated each word with a clap. “Very. Funny.” He positioned his pudgy body between Dr Ferguson and me.

“Arlo darling, you’re early,” simpered Dr Ferguson. “And you’re still dressed.”

“Some secrets are just not meant to be uncovered,” I blurted. What the hell was Dr Ferguson doing mixed up with the likes of this Svenborgian trash fire?

“Ignore him,” said Arlo. “Come with me, Fergie. I’d like to start by feeling each other up in your pantry. Your chest is so shiny because of bug secretions, it’s very enticing. I want to put my tongue on it.”

“They’re not bugs!” I said. “They’re slugs!” Whatever you called them, the warm, sweet pleasure they brought was overtaking my entire system. I doubted I’d be able to fight Arlo off if he took a swing at me.

“The double slugs are an experiment,” Dr Ferguson said in a babydoll voice, while running her fingertips around on Arlo’s bald head. “He’s my guinea pig.”

Arlo whistled a low note in appreciation of the plan. And whistled. And whistled. He just kept going.

“Who whistles for this long?” I grumbled, right before my consciousness drifted away on a current of pleasure.

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I Stared at the Teeth in my Palm

by jenMandatory Festivity Alert! Each year during the thick of the winter holidays, we search out seasonally appropriate sources for our Stichomancy Writing Prompts. This year, we’ve chosen to pull random lines from that 1964 Rankin/Bass stop-motion classic, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Off we go to the North Pole!

  • I’d like to be a dentist.
  • better known as the North Pole
  • I’m cute! I’m cute! She said I’m cute!
  • square wheels on your caboose
  • you’ll go down in history

Tune in next time part 653      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I stared at the teeth in my palm. “I used to think I’d like to be a dentist.” I dropped the horrible little things into a vase on Dr Ferguson’s mantel. “Right now I’m happy I’m not.”

“Stop stalling and put on the uniform,” Dr Ferguson ordered. “My orders are to start our encounter with Position #34.”

Position #34 is better known as the North Pole Vaulter, and that at least meant she’d be doing most of the work. I doffed my makeshift toga and stepped into the awful, scratchy pants. My copious body hair protruded through the crochet holes in a very unappealing fashion.

“Well don’t you look cute?” Dr Ferguson tried to suppress a laugh.

I feigned enthusiasm. “I’m cute! I’m cute! She said I’m cute!”

“Stop bellyaching and choose your slug.” She handed me the tray and finally took her coat off. She was naked underneath. After folding her coat into a neat square, she turned and placed it on the coffee table, and I spotted an unexpected tattoo.

“What’s with those square wheels on your caboose?” I asked.

“They were a gift from Chartreuse’s brother Deuce.”

“Deuce Pamplemousse? The disco artist?”

She nodded. “That’s who the third slug is for.”

I froze, even though I was standing practically in the fire. Dr Ferguson erupted in laughter. “I’m just kidding. He’s only here musically.” She tapped her phone, and hidden speakers in the rafters started pumping out the driving disco beat of “Hop on My Caboose.”

“Then who is the third slug for?”

“You! One for me, two for you. After tonight you’ll go down in history as the first person to use two icicle slugs at the same time!” She snapped on a latex glove and scooped up a pair of clear gastropods. “Well, maybe not history, but in the organization’s files anyway.

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Icicle Slugs

  • by jengrueling toll on the mind and body
  • I clenched my teeth
  • Until then, I’m not interested.
  • does not give a fuck
  • spit two teeth into my hand

Tune in next time part 651      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Icicle slugs. Why did it have to be icicle slugs?

A life like mine takes a grueling toll on the mind and body, a grueling toll that my education at the Academy prepared me for. Mostly. I clenched my teeth as the shimmeringly see-through slugs oozed across Dr Ferguson’s tray, leaving slimy, crisscrossing trails.

“Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for the hype,” I said. “They don’t enhance the sexual experience anywhere near as much as people claim.” Truth was, they did, and I didn’t think I had the energy for it after my honeymoon with Hildegard. And why were there three of them? One for me, one for Dr Ferguson, and one for whom exactly? “Get rid of them. Until then, I’m not interested.”

Dr Ferguson said, “We work for an organization that does not give a fuck about whether you’re interested, or whether I’m interested. They warned me that you might try to weasel out of it.”

“I work for no organization,” I said.

Dr Ferguson balanced her slug tray on her fingertips, crossed to me where I stood by the fire, and spit two teeth into my hand. They weren’t my teeth (I knew from having so recently clenched them), and they weren’t hers either.

I looked up from those blood-stained molars, understanding dawning. “Oh,” I said. “That organization.”

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“There’s No Time to Explain”

  • by jengiraffe bikini
  • making laser noises from the shadows
  • thick, plastic liquid that hardens in a few hours
  • brothers and sisters I’ve apparently never met
  • gripping the animal by its dainty hooves

Tune in next time part 595    Click Here for Earlier Installments

“There’s no time to explain,” I said. “We have to get to Twerkistan.”

“We can’t.” said Tessa. “The weather is awful, and all you’re wearing are giraffe bikini briefs.”

I sighed. “You’re right. I wish my clothes would dry faster.”

“So since we do in fact have the time, why don’t you tell me who you think the cop is.”

“She’s not really a cop. She just likes to dress like one.” I tried to think how best to describe her. “Her name is Jessamin. She’s my sister, and she’s a villain. I’ve been chasing her for years, and she’s always one step ahead of me, making laser noises from the shadows and laughing. Once she broke into my room and dipped all my most precious things in a thick, plastic liquid that hardens in a few hours.”

“You have brothers and sisters I’ve apparently never met,” Tessa said.

“I have brothers and sisters I’ve never met. My parents got around.”

I shuddered at the memory of my stuffed pegasus, once so soft and cuddly. I pictured Jessamin preparing to encase it in plastic, gripping the animal by its dainty hooves, a wicked grin on her face.

But what was she doing interfering with a police investigation in Twerkistan?

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My Stomach Growled Like the Bear I was Chasing

  • by jensmear it on the underside
  • as enjoyable as possible for both of us
  • I learned ‘Very Social’ = Unabashedly Enthusiastic Swingers into BDSM.
  • I was completely naïve
  • Will your mom be cool with that?

Tune in next time part 517      Click Here for Earlier Installments

My stomach growled like the bear I was chasing. While the chef was distracted by a tray of tater tots, I snatched up a slice of bread. A few feet along the buffet table I found butter, and a knife with which to smear it on the underside of the bread — a trick I’d learned at the Academy.

Munching my snack, I trotted through the garden in search of Marnie Glockenspiel and her ursine companion. As I neared another turning in the hedge maze, I heard voices coming through the vegetation. I paused to listen. To my shock I recognized both voices. One was Marnie, the other Heinrich Hunter. And then a third voice. Svetlana, the contortionist who traveled the world hidden inside Heinrich’s shirt.

Svetlana, mother of my quadruplet sons, said, “There’s plenty of room in here, Marnie, and I promise to make it as enjoyable as possible for both of us. You’ll love it. We’re very social.”

I dropped to the ground and peered underneath the bushes. Heinrich was sitting on the ground, having shed the top half of his bear suit to expose Svetlana. Svetlana was working hard to convince Marnie to join her inside Heinrich’s clothes. While they talked I learned ‘Very Social’ = Unabashedly Enthusiastic Swingers into BDSM. Before overhearing this sordid negotiation I would not have thought I was completely naïve, but all I could think was “Will your mom be cool with that?”

I mean, my mom probably would be, but most moms wouldn’t.

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