Blue Shit
Filed under:nanofiction,writing,Rob Andrews
He can't stop staring at her stump. It's beautiful. They met on the internet, one of those trendy new dating services. They flirted for months, progressing from flirty e-mails to dirty phone calls. The picture that she sent him showed her from the chest upwards. Her face glittered with piercings of all sorts. A human Christmas tree. A fashionable pin cushion. She's a kinky devil, but the man doesn't mind. He'll do anything to please her.
The stump was a surprise on their first meeting in person.
"How'd you get it?" he asked. Her arm ended right where her wrist was. Perfectly smooth. It was as if a carpenter had shaped it. Sanded down by hundreds of man hours. Polished until it shined like an expensive car.
"Truth be told, I removed it myself. I'm into body modding. But this is the real deal." She pulled out a syringe from her purse pocket. There was a liquid in it. Saphire. Pungent. The man wrinkled his nose. The woman continued.
"I got it off of the internet. It's the next new thing. I call it Blue Shit." The needle is plunged into her stump and pumps the chemical in. She continues.
"You know phantom limbs, right? Pain people feel when they lose limbs. The military has been doing heavy reseach into it, with all the casualties in Iraq. I don't know what happened, exactly, but some smartass scientist found out a way to use phantom limbs. Get this, he found a drug that brings back the sensation. Your missing parts become Casper the Friendly Ghost." And the man sees it. A smoky aparition of her hand. A medical cross section of what a hand should look like. She flexes her fingers, and the man can see the sinew bend. Ghost blood pumps through transparent veins. Her phantom hand picks up a pencil. She doodles with it.
"Pretty cool, eh?" The man nods. "You haven't seen anything yet." Her takes her hand under the table, unzips his pants. What he feels on his cock isn't quite the feeling of her hand. It's a mixture of flesh and a gaseous liquid. It's warm, sexy. She gives him the best handjob of his life.
"Now do you understand the appeal?" He catches his breath and nods. She smiles. She pulls an ornade pair of scissors.
"You understand why I want you cut off your tongue?" The man takes the scissors and greedily cuts. The bloody slab on the table shows that he understands all too well.
He can't stop staring at her stump. It's beautiful. They met on the internet, one of those trendy new dating services. They flirted for months, progressing from flirty e-mails to dirty phone calls. The picture that she sent him showed her from the chest upwards. Her face glittered with piercings of all sorts. A human Christmas tree. A fashionable pin cushion. She's a kinky devil, but the man doesn't mind. He'll do anything to please her.
The stump was a surprise on their first meeting in person.
"How'd you get it?" he asked. Her arm ended right where her wrist was. Perfectly smooth. It was as if a carpenter had shaped it. Sanded down by hundreds of man hours. Polished until it shined like an expensive car.
"Truth be told, I removed it myself. I'm into body modding. But this is the real deal." She pulled out a syringe from her purse pocket. There was a liquid in it. Saphire. Pungent. The man wrinkled his nose. The woman continued.
"I got it off of the internet. It's the next new thing. I call it Blue Shit." The needle is plunged into her stump and pumps the chemical in. She continues.
"You know phantom limbs, right? Pain people feel when they lose limbs. The military has been doing heavy reseach into it, with all the casualties in Iraq. I don't know what happened, exactly, but some smartass scientist found out a way to use phantom limbs. Get this, he found a drug that brings back the sensation. Your missing parts become Casper the Friendly Ghost." And the man sees it. A smoky aparition of her hand. A medical cross section of what a hand should look like. She flexes her fingers, and the man can see the sinew bend. Ghost blood pumps through transparent veins. Her phantom hand picks up a pencil. She doodles with it.
"Pretty cool, eh?" The man nods. "You haven't seen anything yet." Her takes her hand under the table, unzips his pants. What he feels on his cock isn't quite the feeling of her hand. It's a mixture of flesh and a gaseous liquid. It's warm, sexy. She gives him the best handjob of his life.
"Now do you understand the appeal?" He catches his breath and nods. She smiles. She pulls an ornade pair of scissors.
"You understand why I want you cut off your tongue?" The man takes the scissors and greedily cuts. The bloody slab on the table shows that he understands all too well.
posted by Rob at 1:04 a.m.
2 Comments:
I really like it, though the beginning is a little choppy. I think it would be better to start it like this:
He can't stop staring at her stump. It's beautiful; a surprise on their first meeting in person.
They met on the internet...
- H
Cool. I'll keep that in mind if I ever re-write it. Thanks, Heather for the input.
Post a Comment
<< Home