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Location: Hattiesburg, Mississippi, United States

An unrepentantconservative heterosexualjingoistic guntotingpragmaticwhiskey drinkinstupidityhating voterwiththeloveofjesus inmyprettybrowneyes

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

Thought so.

It was a little after my sixteenth birthday, my parents were out of town and my boyfriend, Bobby, had come over. He had said we were just going to watch movies & make some popcorn, but he’d been pestering me a lot lately about what he called, "Taking our relationship to the next level". What he really meant was, "Time to put out". I’d been thinking about it to. I mean, I’m a healthy sixteen year old girl. I fantasize. I get horny. I diddle my bean every time I take a shower. My god, I’m sixteen for pete sake. Most of my friends have been doing it since they were fourteen. I’m already on the pill, I might as well get some use out of it. So, I figured, "What the hell". Bobby may not be Mr. Right, but he’s kind of cute, has a nice ass, he’s not too irritating, and he pays attention to me (when he’s not trying to sneak his hand under my bra. I mean, jesus, does he actually think I wouldn’t notice his hand on my tit?). Anyway, I decided tonight’s the night. I am gonna get me some.
Bobby got here a little early. He brought Orville Redenbacher, a couple of movies ("Earth Girls Are Easy" and "Gone In 60 seconds", prophetic titles, but I swear I’m not letting him go to the video store alone again.), and a bottle of Boon’s Farm Strawberry Hill (Spent the whole $1.78 huh, Bob?).
As I could have predicted, Bobby was easing his hand through the arm hole of my tank top before Gina Davis was out of the pool. (What is that woman, seven feet tall or something.) I figured that was as good a time as any so, I reached around back and undid the hook. Bobby smiled a little, and after a little fumbling, etc. we rounded the bases and were headed for the bedroom, just as Jeff Goldblum was getting shaved.
Once we were in bed, I was down to my panties, and Bobby was kicking off his jeans, and trying to suck my titty at the same time, (Whoa there, Tiger, we’ve got all after noon.)
I had seen porn stuff on the internet so, I pretty much knew what to expect. Bobby was no ten inch porn star, but his equipment looked perfectly serviceable, yet unintimidating. I was getting a little nervous.
Bobby had rolled over on his back to get his underwear off his left foot. I reached out and took hold of it. Bobby went stiff. Not just his tallywhacker, his whole body went rigid, stiff as a board. I mean rigor mortis, marble statue stiff. His eyes were glazed over, wide open, staring into the middle distance. His pupils were shrunk to pin points. His mouth was slightly open.
Then, he said, "Gleep."
Well, he really didn’t SAY "Gleep". His lips didn’t move, and his jaw didn’t move, and I didn’t see his tongue move. The sound "Gleep" just came out of his mouth. Kind of like a loudspeaker. Then "Gleep" he said it again.
I shook him, and called his name. Nothing. He was hard to the touch. Frozen in the position he was in at the exact moment I touched his dipsy doodle. Left knee bent towards his chest, underwear in his hand, his purple helmeted warrior of love was rigid, and leaning about thirty-five degrees off vertical towards his belly button.
Holy fucking shit! What the hell was I supposed to do? The "Gleeps" were coming at regular five second intervals. I could hear Jeff Goldblum explaining intergalactic space adventuring to Gina Davis. Nine one one, nine one one, yeah that’s it nine one one! Just as I reached for the phone, it rang.
I guess that shocked me out of my panic. I sat for a moment. The phone rang two more times. I picked it up.
"Honey, it’s me." my mom said, "Calm down, everything is just fine. It’s gonna be alright."
I was staring at Bobby when, all of the sudden, his right ear rotated about a half inch counterclockwise. There was a slight hiss, and a wisp of steam, and a "Click", and a shiny metal cylinder about an inch and a half in diameter slowly slid out of Bobby’s head. The "Gleeping" continued. On the metal cylinder was a key pad of rubber buttons, and a liquid crystal display that was flashing "Factory time-out settings have been exceeded - G308 error" in bright green letters.
"Mom, something is seriously fucked up with Bobby.
"Its okay, Honey, I’ll be home in about five minutes. Just calm down, and wait for me to get there."
"But, Mom! something is seriously, seriously, unbelievabley fucked up with Bobby. He..."
"I know all about it, Honey, calm down. There’s a little talk I should have had with you a while back, but I put it off, and now, well... Just wait for me to get home and I’ll explain everything. I’m coming to an intersection, so I’ve got to hang up. I’ll see you in a few minutes. Bye."
She hung up. I went in the living room and opened the Boone’s Farm. I was swigging it out of the bottle, and wondering if I had any pot left in the baggy in the trunk of Malibu Barbie’s Corvette when my mom came in.
"What the fuck, Mom?"
"I know, Honey, This is all probably a shock to you, and I should have told you all about this, so you’d be prepared. I apologize for springing it on you like this, but if you’ll calm down, I’ll try to explain every thing."
She paused for a moment, and looked around the room as if to avoid eye contact, and then continued, "The fact is honey that since a time long ago that we call ‘The Sixties’ there have been only a handful of men on the planet."
"What are you talking about? What about Dad? What about Grandpa, and Uncle Dan? And..."
"Honey, hold on, and I’ll start at the beginning...
In the late nineteen fifties life in America began to change. Women were becoming more independent and less family oriented. We were getting jobs, and entering the work force in ever increasing numbers. Fashion was changing, life-styles were changing, the pill had freed women from the threat of having a baby for every orgasm. By the early sixties, the sexual revolution was in full swing. And, we WERE swingin’.
Then, it happened. In nineteen sixty-five at a small farm near a place called Roswell, Georgia, contact was made. The names and dates and many of the facts about the incident have been changed, for the protection of the general population. But, the basic story is this.
Our radio and television broadcasts had been being monitored by an alien civilization far in advance of our own. They were waiting until the social and economic environment on Earth had reached a certain point in its evolution. Unfortunately, with the development of the atomic bomb and fledgling space program, they felt they must intervene, lest we become a danger to ourselves, and the galactic community.
These aliens were female. They had hoped that with the progress we had made throughout the fifties, and sixties that a female dominated society might be emerging. A society they might welcome into the great cosmic sisterhood. However, they became concerned with our planet’s violent tendencies and male dominated world view. And so, were force to present themselves to the world before we had evolved as far as they would have liked.
The story they told was of a world where they had completely eliminated the need for men. Their technology allowed them to function and breed with out the need for male fertilization so their male population eventually died out because the method of reproduction they now used produced only x and no y chromosomes. And what x chromosomes they were. The entire population of their planet, Jugulon Prime, was made up of the most fantastically hot babes in the universe. And, they were lonely without men, so they had to import them from other worlds. They said that the men would not have to work, or be productive, or provide in any way for the Jugulons. They would be allowed to sleep all day, and drink beer, and play with fast cars, and go fishing. The only catch was that the men would have to keep the entire gorgeous, cellulite free population of Jugulon Prime sexually satisfied. The Jugulons asked for volunteers from among the men of earth to make the journey to Jugulon Prime, the fourth planet circling the star Jiggly D in the Cumjunkyslut Nebula. The entire male population of Earth volunteered immediately. And, except for a few dozen stragglers that were unable to make it into the mothership, there went the entire male population to be pureed in the giant processing plant in the mothership into a the nutrient rich man-slurry that the carnivorous Jugulons needed to survive.
Afterwards, the Jugulons stayed on earth for a few years to teach us their gynocentric mastertechnologies for things like the production of manbots and stuff. Then, poof, as quickly as they had appeared they were gone. And, although they did leave us manless, they left us one of the most technologically advanced planets in our arm of the Milky Way. We still have a few men, but mostly they are sequestered in a garage in Pismo Beach, California where we use them to keep the planet’s supply of nineteen sixty-four Mustang convertibles in perfect running condition. Because, even though we have vast technological knowledge, it turns out that women actually are too stupid to be auto mechanics. Go figure.
"But, Mom, that can’t be. You’re telling me Bobby is a machine?"
"Yep, Honey, they all are."
"Well, what about reproduction?"
" That one’s been a little hard to wrap your brain around, but basically you go to your gynecologist, and tell her what kind of characteristics you want: eye color, hair color, height, boob size, etc. and she finds an egg from a matching donor. Then, she puts the egg in the DNA Extractatron, and the genetic gunk is siphoned into the Martha Stewart Combination Spoogamyzation Oven and Crepe Maker then ten minutes later "Splurt" a thirty-five cc tube of baby batter pops out the other end. You plug the tube into the Spooge Master 4000 Knockupatron. Much better, by the way, than the earlier Spoogypuff 2000 Insperminator. That thing wasn’t any fun at all. And wham-bam, anywhere from one to forty-five minutes later, you’ve got a bun in the old oven. At this point you have a choice. You can either go for the whole nine month "natural" process, or you can run down the hall to the Offspring-O-Matic in the Babytorium have the little blastocyst sucked out and gestatofied and "boing" instant infant. That’s how I did your sister, but with you, I did the whole nine yards."
"Okay that takes care of childbirth, but what about homosexuals?"
"Well, honestly, there’s no such thing. Back in the early days, when we were just getting used to the whole "Manbot" idea, some of the girls at the plant go the wires on the Orientationatron backwards and "Poof" we got some poofs. Back before all the men got eaten by carnivorous space vixens the idea of the dirt road cowboy never even occurred to anybody. We just make a few of them every once in a while so we don’t run out of hair dressers, ballroom dance instructors, and, of course Brad Pitt."
"What about Lesbians? They’re women, the Jugulons didn’t take them too did they?"
"No, of course not, Honey. The fact is ALL women are bisexual. Don’t worry you’ll grow into it in a few years."
"What about you, Mom?"
"Oh, yeah, Honey, I’ve chowed down on my share of box. Hell, you get a couple of chocolate martini’s in me and I’d do the two twat tango with Bella Abzug. You’ll learn about all this in time, but right now we need to go check on ‘Bobby’."
We went down the hall to the bedroom. There lay Bobby "Gleeping" away just as I’d left him.
"Oh, my." said my mother, "his Brainiacal processing unit has popped right out of his head."
She leaned over him and pushed some buttons then said, "Oh, I see, he’s had a G308 error. All the error codes are listed in appendix ‘B’ of the Owners Manual. You see, since you’re just starting out I thought you should begin with something tame. This is the Servotronic McFrierbot. It was originally designed for the McDonalds Corporation as a french fry machine operator, not equipped for any sexual functions, but there are a lot of them on the market and they’re cheap and easily modified. I had the standard Model 17 upgraded with the Wangboy Beginners Package package with a Jizzalator Spunk Ejection Unit and the Slap-O-Matic Hip Thrustalizer. I thought you might like that. I also had him equipped with a limited-slip vibrating Cunalingalizer Insert in case you were up for a little oral, and a Bungeecorp Sphinctosensor so he’ll squeal like a school girl if you run a finger up his... you know. Now, the Sphinctosensor also acts a Gameoverizer, so if you’ve made it and he’s still going you just poke that prostate and "Bingo" the Jizzalator kicks in and he rolls over and goes into "Sleep Mode". What’s happened to Bobby here is his factory run time was set to zero, so the second you touched his trouser weasel he timed out and went into "Safe Mode". I also had Bobby installed with a combination cellphone, ipod and GPS unit. That’s how I knew you had touched his gehaw whimmydiddle and sent him into safe mode. Now, the Servotronic McFrierbot was never intended for complex thought, so it’s Brainiacal processing unit doesn’t have enough ram to control his sexual functions. All of those functions are controlled by parameter settings on each individual processing unit, for example the Cunalingalizer insert has individual control settings for tongue swirling, speed, suction, etc. are controlled manually within the unit itself. What froze Bobby up in this particular instance was that his "Run Time" setting was set to zero. All we have to do is increase the setting and you’re back in business."
Mom produced a small tool like a combination wind-up key and allen wrench, and turned Bobby around on the bed so she could look between his legs.
As she reached under his scrotum she said, "Right here, under his ballsack is where the adjustment is. You just slip this tool through this little slit in the skin until it snaps into place, the you can rotate it to the left and right. One click to the right increases his run time one minute, one click to the left increases his run time by five minutes. You just keep on till you get to the time you want."
"How do you decrease his run time?"
"What do you mean, Hon?"
"You know, what if he goes too long? How do I make him go less?"
"Honey, I’m listening, but I’m not getting what you’re saying."

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