The Informant
folder
Original - Misc › Humour
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,099
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › Humour
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,099
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
The Informant
Author’s Note: The following was a response to a challenge on another site. The challenge parameters follow, then comes the story. Hope you enjoy!
Parameters: You have to write a 1st person story from the perspective of an inanimate object. The story can be m/m, f/m or f/f, but at least one of the characters has to be a fundamentalist Christian and everything has to be from the object\'s POV. Include the phrase: \"Oh no, we couldn\'t possibly do that. Who would clean up the mess?\" in your story. max wordlength 1000 words.
********************************************************************
So you want to know about Jessie, huh? Okay, pal. I’ll talk.
My name? …Call me Sanyo for now.
Oh, she seems all sweet and innocent, sure. She’s a Jesus freak to the freakiest. Been one since she was about eight. But I hear everything she doesn’t want to admit to you guys.
She confides in me, you see.
Her fiancé, Seamus, came over last night while she was pouring her heart out to me. All about her evil sexual desires, how she wanted to get good and fucked, how “ashamed” she was about the trashy romances she kept getting from the library and only reading the “good” parts of…
He unlocked the door quietly and slipped in as she was describing how hot the idea of getting spanked and ass-fucked got her.
“It does?” His voice cracked through the room.
She turned so fast, even Lady Aire’s light couldn’t keep up with her. “Seamus!” she exclaimed, trying to hide her nervousness.
You hear it, right? That shy little giggle, half-guilty, half-pleased?
He grabbed her from behind, solid as a wrench on a nut. “I thought you weren’t interested in sex, Jessie. I thought you were a good girl.”
Yeah, he does have a deep voice.
No, I’m not him.
Just listen.
“Oh, Seamus …” She moved to sit on the bed, ruffling the cotton spread. “I’m sorry. I know you’re disgusted. I would be.”
He made his own rustling sounds as he sat down by her. A protesting squeak came from the Dream Queen. “Who said I was disgusted?”
“But, I thought …” She paused, then began again, very quietly. I turned up the volume on the microphone. “I thought you wanted me to be good.”
He spoke at full volume. I turned down the mic. “If you want to be, Jessie. If it makes you happy.” He seized her again. “It doesn’t, though, does it?”
Whispers again. “No. It should. It’s what God wants.”
“Maybe it isn’t. Maybe us being together is what God wants.”
“But we’re not married!”
She stood and walked over to me. Her finger tapped along the case lightly.
“Aren’t we?” He took a deep breath. “Isn’t it marriage when two people agree to spend their lives together before God? How’d people do it before the great United States government said you had to pay for a state license, or before there were ministers everywhere?”
I did raise the bass on that one. His passion throbbed through me.
She turned from me and looked at him helplessly. “Well, maybe …”
He smiled. “Besides, I want to bury myself in your ass.”
“Shay!”
It was her “not really outraged, but I feel I should be” scream. I’ve played that one over and over to myself…
Sorry. Let’s go on.
“Why not?” He prowled behind her and gave her rear a little slap. She jumped, but the gasp and look she gave him showed she liked what he’d done.
She fumbled for words but found them, after a few false starts. \"Shay, we … I mean, you wouldn’t … Oh no, we couldn\'t possibly do that. Who would clean up the mess?\"
He chuckled into her right ear. “That’s why God made towels.”
Great. Little miss Martha Stewart’s gonna love that.
That drew another delighted gasp and another quick objection. “But you don’t have … you’d need … you know, something for … back there.”
“Mm.” He drew back and looked her up and down. “You’ve done your research. No wonder I love you.”
“You don’t, right?” She sounds torn between apprehension and desire, doesn’t she? I love her voice.
“Maybe,” he said, drawing the word out almost painfully slowly. “You just get the towels, and I’ll worry about that.”
Another loud slap. Oh, her ass resonates to his hand, doesn’t it? I’m looking forward to their next encounter, I’ll tell you.
She brought out three thick yellow towels and put them on the bed. One slid off (not surprising, I suppose) but Jessie caught her and put her back in place.
Seamus did come prepared. A clear tube, some pieces of sheepskin, and a few minutes later, they were entwined, kissing and breathing hard. I turned up my volume again and caught it all.
Great, isn’t it? Wait just a minute…there! Did you hear that squeal? First time he’d ever gotten a good swipe between her legs. Boy, did she love it, too …
There she goes again! Wait, wait … here it comes … “Oh, oh, oh Shay … don’t let me fall…”
“I’ve got you, baby…”
“Oh, I’m going to…I’m going to…AH!”
Let me play that again for you. A first for her … how delicious!
No, I didn’t sneak in there and tape it. I told you I live with her.
You won’t believe me if I tell you.
Fine. I’m her tape recorder.
Hello?
Mr. Vines?
Anyone there?
Well. I guess I need to see if his answering machine is interested in a copy of their most interesting moments.
Once I soothe those poor towels, of course. Being covered with blood, salty thick liquid, lubricant, and human anal secretions would upset anyone, and since they’re Martha Stewart brand, they’re even more temperamental than your average linen.
Parameters: You have to write a 1st person story from the perspective of an inanimate object. The story can be m/m, f/m or f/f, but at least one of the characters has to be a fundamentalist Christian and everything has to be from the object\'s POV. Include the phrase: \"Oh no, we couldn\'t possibly do that. Who would clean up the mess?\" in your story. max wordlength 1000 words.
********************************************************************
So you want to know about Jessie, huh? Okay, pal. I’ll talk.
My name? …Call me Sanyo for now.
Oh, she seems all sweet and innocent, sure. She’s a Jesus freak to the freakiest. Been one since she was about eight. But I hear everything she doesn’t want to admit to you guys.
She confides in me, you see.
Her fiancé, Seamus, came over last night while she was pouring her heart out to me. All about her evil sexual desires, how she wanted to get good and fucked, how “ashamed” she was about the trashy romances she kept getting from the library and only reading the “good” parts of…
He unlocked the door quietly and slipped in as she was describing how hot the idea of getting spanked and ass-fucked got her.
“It does?” His voice cracked through the room.
She turned so fast, even Lady Aire’s light couldn’t keep up with her. “Seamus!” she exclaimed, trying to hide her nervousness.
You hear it, right? That shy little giggle, half-guilty, half-pleased?
He grabbed her from behind, solid as a wrench on a nut. “I thought you weren’t interested in sex, Jessie. I thought you were a good girl.”
Yeah, he does have a deep voice.
No, I’m not him.
Just listen.
“Oh, Seamus …” She moved to sit on the bed, ruffling the cotton spread. “I’m sorry. I know you’re disgusted. I would be.”
He made his own rustling sounds as he sat down by her. A protesting squeak came from the Dream Queen. “Who said I was disgusted?”
“But, I thought …” She paused, then began again, very quietly. I turned up the volume on the microphone. “I thought you wanted me to be good.”
He spoke at full volume. I turned down the mic. “If you want to be, Jessie. If it makes you happy.” He seized her again. “It doesn’t, though, does it?”
Whispers again. “No. It should. It’s what God wants.”
“Maybe it isn’t. Maybe us being together is what God wants.”
“But we’re not married!”
She stood and walked over to me. Her finger tapped along the case lightly.
“Aren’t we?” He took a deep breath. “Isn’t it marriage when two people agree to spend their lives together before God? How’d people do it before the great United States government said you had to pay for a state license, or before there were ministers everywhere?”
I did raise the bass on that one. His passion throbbed through me.
She turned from me and looked at him helplessly. “Well, maybe …”
He smiled. “Besides, I want to bury myself in your ass.”
“Shay!”
It was her “not really outraged, but I feel I should be” scream. I’ve played that one over and over to myself…
Sorry. Let’s go on.
“Why not?” He prowled behind her and gave her rear a little slap. She jumped, but the gasp and look she gave him showed she liked what he’d done.
She fumbled for words but found them, after a few false starts. \"Shay, we … I mean, you wouldn’t … Oh no, we couldn\'t possibly do that. Who would clean up the mess?\"
He chuckled into her right ear. “That’s why God made towels.”
Great. Little miss Martha Stewart’s gonna love that.
That drew another delighted gasp and another quick objection. “But you don’t have … you’d need … you know, something for … back there.”
“Mm.” He drew back and looked her up and down. “You’ve done your research. No wonder I love you.”
“You don’t, right?” She sounds torn between apprehension and desire, doesn’t she? I love her voice.
“Maybe,” he said, drawing the word out almost painfully slowly. “You just get the towels, and I’ll worry about that.”
Another loud slap. Oh, her ass resonates to his hand, doesn’t it? I’m looking forward to their next encounter, I’ll tell you.
She brought out three thick yellow towels and put them on the bed. One slid off (not surprising, I suppose) but Jessie caught her and put her back in place.
Seamus did come prepared. A clear tube, some pieces of sheepskin, and a few minutes later, they were entwined, kissing and breathing hard. I turned up my volume again and caught it all.
Great, isn’t it? Wait just a minute…there! Did you hear that squeal? First time he’d ever gotten a good swipe between her legs. Boy, did she love it, too …
There she goes again! Wait, wait … here it comes … “Oh, oh, oh Shay … don’t let me fall…”
“I’ve got you, baby…”
“Oh, I’m going to…I’m going to…AH!”
Let me play that again for you. A first for her … how delicious!
No, I didn’t sneak in there and tape it. I told you I live with her.
You won’t believe me if I tell you.
Fine. I’m her tape recorder.
Hello?
Mr. Vines?
Anyone there?
Well. I guess I need to see if his answering machine is interested in a copy of their most interesting moments.
Once I soothe those poor towels, of course. Being covered with blood, salty thick liquid, lubricant, and human anal secretions would upset anyone, and since they’re Martha Stewart brand, they’re even more temperamental than your average linen.