Satalien (satalien) wrote,

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You've Got to be Fucking Kidding Me. (an Erotic Story by Satalien)

-Part I- The Funkdified Nightwalker Eats a Dimwitted Tomato

Misty. The word resonated in the annals of his anal cavity as he fingered the walls of his funspace. She was only part human, Misty, but had a more pungent air of humanity that came out when she was engaged in the coital aspect of her homo sapieness. This 'air' had more elements of humanness in it than a human's on air did. Due to the intensity with which Misty, a half-human/half-sweater creature that hated being called a Were-sweater even though that was what she was, felt her humanness at the time of intercourse, she let off this pungent air and the fear, sweat, and most of all malaise with which the air was filled (the very essence of humanity, he thought) got him off almost instantly. Phermones or something.

He closed his Tablick cavity thinking that it was probably time he put on his costume. It was Halloween after all and the people around him liked to wear pretend costumes. Oh the Irony, he thought, that he was dressing up as an otherworldly creature while his TRUE SELF was, in fact, an otherworldy creature of some sort. THE IRONY, he thought again as he put on the mask that looked more like his TRUE SKIN than anything else underneath the mask. He felt his synthetic penis begin to grow erect as he thought of the IRONY. "Oh the IRONY!" he cried out to himself as he grasped the fake member, and though it was fake, it was still attached to his middle brain, creating a reasonable facsimile of the human experience of male arousal.

The IRONY was sending him over the edge so fast as he grasped his fake penis. The IRONY that this penis was not real and that the sensations he felt were false. SUCH IRONY he couldn't stand it anymore. He stroked up and down the erect fake member and thought of the fakeness of erections and then felt something happening, something bizarre and wonderful, the same feeling he always felt the top-heavyness of it all, the irony, the delicious IRONY. The fake penis began ejaculating its creamy substance and then the Kablick funspace let out its demons in a flurry of flapping wings which then died because they couldn't live in this atmosphere.

He was covered in semen and demon. "Oh God, what IRONY," he said out loud. "That here I am, by all accounts, not real, and yet I am covered in semen and demons."

He showered again for the third time that day. He began putting on his costume, careful not to think of the IRONY, lest he be late. He was dressed as ALF, a character, he was led to believe, from an old TV show. It was hard not to remember how ironic it was that underneath it all he bore more resemblence to ALF than to a human. He was not an alien though. He didn't know what he was anymore.

The costume party was only a few blocks from his apartment. It was at the home of a friend he had made at his job where he watched the security systems of businesses and normal people. He worked from midnight until 8 a.m. and it was a natural fit. He remembered the home, wherever he was from, as a dark place, a dark world. The sun burned his fake skin. He guessed it was an error in his real costume.

He stopped in a 24-hour convenience store to pick up a bottle of liquor. He thought maybe he could have some cigarettes too and possibly some Doritos. After all, who needed this fake body to be healthy. Dying, with all of its various pains and pleasures, would have felt good to him, he that was not real and was in fact probably some alien or demon or something. Who knew?

As he picked up a package of Doritos, he began to feel the bathroom urge. "Oh god," he thought. This was the worst part. He walked into the area marked "restrooms" and opened a door. He saw a woman, naked, looking into the mirror like she was fascinated with her skins.

"I'm sorry," he grumbled, thinking he had accidentally gone into the woman's room. "Don't leave" she said to him. "I need you, ALF."

He got angry. He wasn't ALF. He was Bartleby. He was sick of this stinking bullshit. He grabbed the woman and said "you're in the men's room you stupid dumbass" and she only smiled. "I know, I was waiting for you." "Waiting for me?" he said, "I'm Bartleby! You have no idea who I am!" She kept smiling her dumbass smile and grasped her breasts in her hands. She pulled on her nipples and he noticed how big the breasts were. Like, huge. He felt a hand going into his costume, pulling out his fake penis.

"Oh no, this is going to be too Ironic," he thought and immediately came all over her hand. She looked surprised and disappointed. "I wanted you to fuck me," she said. "You came on my hand not my face." He could feel the demons flapping in between his fake skin and his costume. It felt kinda nice and the knowledge that they would die was even more Ironic.

"Oh I'm going to fuck you" he said to the strange woman who was still naked in the men's room of a 24 hour convenience store. He pushed her to the floor and removed BOTH his masks. "Be prepared, lovely lady for the most IRONIC night of your life!"

She got up onto her hands and knees. He stroked his penis to erection and got behind her feeling her moist slit with his other hand as he did, thinking the whole time that she was going to look at his face in a few moments. She was going to FREAK OUT!

He slammed his penis into her vagina and let his antennae drip down onto her back. She grabbed it in her hand. His maw opened and he took her hand and placed it within. "Oh yeah, baby," he moaned, "feel my maw!" She didn't know what to do and struggled to get her hand released from the soft velevety, yet firm insides of his maw. The stroking, freaked out sensations drove him to want to rip off his fake penis and let his snagar do some licking on the insides of her asshole, but he resisted the urge and stuck his "thumb" in there instead. "Oh no," she said, "don't do that, I don't want you to-" but suddenly his MAW sucked up without his even thinking about it. Her arm was in up to her elbow. It hurt him a little and made him want to retch, but if he just waited it out, it woudl be okay. "hold on," he said to her, "stay very still." She turned and looked at him, opened her mouth in a scream and began to struggle even further. He pressed down on her with his body and sucked up with his maw again. She yanked at the antennae trying to stop him and he sucked up again, this time going to her shoulder. She couldn't do anything. He heard a shoulder joint pop and her gyrations ripped off his fake penis. "All the better," he leered at her and his snagar came out in its five fisted glory, the licking tentacley things going to her vagina and asshole at once.

She stopped struggling, the pleasure the snagar provided a human woman, used to the coarse, undeveloped sexuality of humanity, was too great. She moaned. She squirmed. She gasped and her vagina opened along the vertical slit. "Oh yes," she said. "Oh yes oh yes oh yes". It widened further and further, suddenly tearing the separation between it and her anus. "Yes," she sighed, as blood pooled below her. He arm stuck within his maw stopped its movements. "yes yes yes yes YES!" she screamed, the pleasure building up in her, unaware that her vagina was opening and tearing her up to her stomach, the soft ovaries tumbling out to the floor, meatballs in a pile of intestines and blood.

His maw began digesting and the pleasure of her, the pleasure of her body filled his every vein as her pieces were distributed throughout his system. The penis, though ripped off, was still attached to his middle brain and he began stroking it. Her rip widened, finally large enough to accomadate the whole of the snagar and he shoved it in while digesting and sucking on her arm. He plunged into innards and bile, blood and torment until finally his climax came and a swarm of bugs sploofed out of him into the air. they flew around, these, very much attuned to living in these environs, going to the lights, attracted to them.

He stared at them, his children, born from this strange woman. His maw, now done with the shoulder began to suck in her neck. It would be only minutes, he thought, before his maw then expelled its wastes, the orgasmic delight of reducing the toxins in his body. He felt the maw moisten even more with acidic juices and, suddenly, the feelings in him, the combined snagar sensations, maw and penis arousals, caused the maw to spray its acid everywhere. (Something he had read about but never thought he could do.) the acid began dissolving the body and before he knew it, he was coming from his penis all over the dead, mangled body, split up the center now, still twitiching from the splangar's five-pronged assault on its pleasure systems, the face still moaning in pleasure. she was not dead yet and thought she would live forever. The acid burning her face mixing with the sticky semen.

Just then, the door opened. A man looked down at them. "I'm sorry, man," he said, "wrong room."

Bartleby watched him go and though of the man's response. Oh the IRONY, Bartleby thought. He spat the woman's remaining shoulder parts out of his maw and stuck it in her mouth wanting to taste the insides as he thought of the IRONY. The costume, torn in places soon spewed dying demons, bugs and come once again as Bartleby sucked in and crunched the woman's teeth, thinking how ironic it was that she took such good care of her teeth only to have them crunched by this netherworldly creature's pleasure mouth.

He was exhausted and covered in blood, sticky demon fluid, semen, and dying bugs. He stood up, looked at the unspeakable image in the mirror. He walked into a stall and did the human thing which was to poop. that felt kinda good but not as good as the maw-shit felt. That was truly the best of all worlds. He thought he'd save that for the party and a delighted grin came over one of his mouths. the party, he thought, which was more than most people who were invited to it knew. It was, in fact, going to be quite the ironic massacre.

A few minutes later, there were more demons flying out of him, irony getting the better of him. Save it for the party, he thought. Save it for the party.

Misty, he thought again. First I'll wear her and then she'll wear me.

The bugs, giant, unfathomable creatures with 20 legs and four heads were already feasting on the woman's body. He ripped her head off of her decaying shoulders and stuffed it into his maw. "One for the road," he thought. He straightened his costume up, cleaned it off with his Taklor Sponly and then headed out.
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