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Three Georges and a Kenneth
a bedtime story for Megan Cole "What do people want in a screen-saver?" "Well, we did some surveys ... anonymous, for the most part. The single, recurring theme we found was `penetration'." "Penetr- I beg your pardon?" "Well ..."
They huddled under the bridge, hidden in the shadows. Far overhead, bright lights screamed past and hit the city somewhere south of their position, exploding. The clank of failed girders falling and the tinkle of broken glass was constant. Once, this had been a decent place to play; a virtual reality system where people could relax, entertain themselves; now, rogue players had subverted the basic premise, and had turned it into a sort of Zone3 game from hell. Horrible things happened here. The first thing they'd done was create monsters.
Most people had thought of 'monsters' as something rather silly; hundreds of years of video propaganda had painted them as large, furry, stupid, shambling things. They'd lost their claws, their teeth and their appetites, and as far as mainstream entertainment business had been concerned, they'd never possessed genitalia. That had all changed.
Under the bridge were three Georges and a Kenneth. The standard 'George' was your basic monster; about eight feet tall; huge, hulking frame; covered in shaggy brown fur; three-inch claws. The rogues had added long, twitching pointed ears, dirty yellow eyes, a smell that would stop a clock and a wrinkled leather sac that hung between its legs, containing something which no-one had yet lived to describe to anyone else. The three Georges under the bridge were ranged in size from a slightly-shorter-than-average to a decidedly large version which had to stoop to prevent banging its head on the bridge railings, nine feet overhead. The Kenneth was a rarity; like all Kenneths, it was vaguely humanoid in shape, but was made entirely out of pale pink jelly shot through with ropy yellow veins. Its slick skin glistened in the light of occasional mortar fire which passed overhead, a highlight to the single strip of blue-white fluoro tubes which lined the underside of the bridge. The Kenneth slumped against the broken concrete wall, as if the effort of remaining upright was almost too much for it. They merely stood (or slumped) there for a while, the three Georges and the Kenneth. Presently, the two smaller Georges got bored, lost definition; eventually, they just faded away completely. They would return when needed. The remaining George was bored, too, but since it was the only George left in that area, certain algorithms determined that it had to remain. It decided to pass the time as most Georges did. Its paw, dark brown fur covering wrinkled black skin, slid down its belly, pressed against the swelling just above the scrotum, rubbed back and forth idly. The penis within the sac swelled, the poorly-defined head pushing against the vertical opening until the edges peeled back and allowed it to poke through. The swollen shaft slowly extruded, forcing the lips of the opening back, the head pointing upward at a slight angle. The smooth black skin, liberally decorated with ropy veins, glistened wetly in the fluoro light; the George grasped it around the base, stretched it, forcing blood into the end, making it bulge obscenely. It bore only a passing resemblance to human genitalia; from some angles, it appeared to be a grotesquely enlarged horse's penis attached to the George's groin, upside-down. Lacking a better target, the George turned to the Kenneth and forced the dick in through its gelatinous side, right through its middle and out underneath where the ribs would be if the George had possessed them. With a sucking sound, the Kenneth's flesh flowed and sealed around the protuberance. The George grabbed the Kenneth's head and tugged, stretching its body mercilessly, continuing to pump away. It withdrew its turgid shaft back into the recesses of the translucent Kenneth, then thrust upward into its chest cavity. This seemed more satisfactory; with mechanical, regular grunts, it continued to thrust, the wrist-sized column making wet sounds as it repeatedly withdrew and entered. The motions increased in frequency, and just as the George was about to lose interest and fade away after all it came, the dick practically poking up into the neck of the twisted-over Kenneth, ejecting a gout of bright-fluorescent-yellow fluid into the opaque innards that were wrapped around the jerking shaft.
"Some screen-saver, huh?" "I don't think it'll sell." "Well, that was set at level two ... Now, watch this ..." (click) |
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