* * *
Marla turned around and patted her stomach where her unborn child lay. “I hope you treat me better than that one, Little Billy. I can’t have another potty mouth in the family.
And with that, Marla went home.
STD
Brian awoke in a stranger’s bed, his bladder ready to burst. Glancing to his right, he saw the sleeping form of a female. He wasn’t sure who she was or where he was, but after a moment, he remembered.
Her name was Jackie. They’d met at a bar and did a lot of drinking. She was a flight attendant in town on a three day layover and staying at a friend’s place who was on vacation. They had a night of crazy, drunken sex, the woman a veteran in the sack.
Creeping out of bed, he tip-toed to the bathroom. Barely able to get his boxers off, he released himself, but the relief was short-lived when the stream shot sideways, covering the side of the sink in piss. He tried to stop urinating, but it was no use. So he turned sideways and peed into the bowl. He had no idea what was causing the blockage, but figured his hole was partially clogged with dried body secretions or a piece of fabric from the bed. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had mornings when his stream went in two directions before, but this time it was extreme. And didn’t it always correct itself after a few moments?
Looking down as he finished up, making sure to get the last few drops out, his eyes bulged from their sockets. A bulbous white-headed growth was at the tip of his penis. It hadn’t been there before this morning, at least that he could remember. The thing was huge—the size of a small pebble. It had to be something stuck to him, that’s all. A piece of food or debris that fell onto the bed. He finished jiggling, then went to pull the thing off, but lightning pain shot down his member. Nervous, confused, wanting it off, he pulled again, but the thing wouldn’t budge. Panic took hold. He went rigid with fear. What the hell was on his dick?
He thought about last night, his time with Jackie. There was no way it was there when they did it, for she would have surely felt it in her mouth and said something. And he would have definitely felt it rubbing against her vaginal wall. They didn’t use a condom either. Maybe she gave him something? Anger swelled within him. What had that bitch given him? Wait—what kind of STD shows up that fast, just hours after intercourse? None that he knew of, not that he was an expert.
Shit, maybe it was a tumor and had been microscopic, but somehow the sex had irritated it and made it swell up. It wasn’t often that he inspected his penis. In fact, he never did. If the ladies didn’t complain, why bother? There was no way it was there last night. A penis was smooth and soft. A huge lump like the one he had would’ve been felt for sure, and he remembered her spending some quality time on him. Maybe she did feel it and was being nice. No. No way. In today’s day and age if something was wrong sexually, someone would say something. Fear was too great. Why would she feel it in her mouth, then allow him to put it inside her. She wouldn’t.
Lowering the toilet’s lid, Brian sat down. Hunching over, while pulling his penis as close to his face as possible, he studied the growth. He felt it. It was firm, but squishy, like a miniscule water balloon. The whitehead was gross, the thing reminding him of a giant zit.
He sat back, relief flooding over him. He had a fucking pimple on his dick.
Should he pop it or leave it be? Wanting the unpleasant thing gone, he pinched low on the zit and squeezed. An electric-like pain ran down the length of his penis. Ignoring the pain, he pinched harder, hoping that once it popped, the pain would lessen and the swelling would go down.
Nicotine colored pus exploded from the lump. He continued to compress the skin, making sure to get out all the infected material. With the pus out, blood began to trickle.
Reaching for the toilet paper with his clean hand, he grabbed a few pieces and dabbed at the head of his bloodied penis. Finished, he tossed the paper into the waste basket. The area burned, as if someone had put out a cigarette on it, but the growth was gone, deflated like a bad tire and was nothing more than a flap of skin.
He stood, pulling up his shorts. Finding a spray cleaner and roll of paper towels under the sink, he sprayed the floor where the pus landed, as well as the side of the sink still glistening with his urine, and cleaned up the areas. Replacing the cleaner and tossing the paper towels into the toilet—a no-no, but how would he explain using so much—he washed his hands with soap and hot water, then returned to the bedroom to catch a few more hours of sleep.
Sometime later Brian was awakened by Jackie, the woman rocking him and calling his name.
“What . . . what’s the matter?” he asked, one eye opening. He saw Jackie standing over him, still in her half-shirt and purple panties.
“You’re bleeding,” she said.
He sat up. Rubbing his eyes, he asked what she was talking about.
“You’re bleeding . . . down there.” She pointed to where his crotch was beneath the sheet.
Looking down, he saw a crimson-colored, Frisbee-sized stain.
“What the hell?”
Lifting the cover, he saw his pants were soaked in blood, his thighs sticky with the red stuff. Then he remembered the huge zit he had popped.
“What happened?” Jackie asked, covering her mouth.
He thought about telling her about his pimple, but didn’t want to gross her out. “Do you have anything?” he asked.
“What?” She had a confused look on her face.
“Any STD’s I need to worry about?”
Jackie’s face reddened as her eyes became slits. “Are you kidding me? What the fuck? Of course not. Do you?” She backed away as if he was contagious.
“I’m clean. Don’t worry.”
“Why would you ask me that and why the hell are you bleeding?”
“It’s nothing,” he said softly, not really believing his own words. He had a hard time believing a pimple would bleed so much, although he’d also never seen one so large. Not wanting her to freak out, he decided to come clean.
“I had a . . . pimple on my . . .” he motioned toward his crotch.
Jackie’s eyes went wide. “I had that thing in my . . . you put it in me.” She shivered. “Gross.”
“It wasn’t there last night,” he told her. “Don’t you think you would’ve felt it?”
“I can’t believe you fucked me with that thing on your dick,” she went on as if she hadn’t heard him. “What if it exploded inside me?” She shivered again. “In my mouth?” She leaned over, gagging. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
“Didn’t you hear me?” he asked, climbing from the bed. “It wasn’t there last night. I swear.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. It was . . . huge. You would’ve, hell, I would’ve felt it.”
“I guess.” She was looking better, then smiled evilly. “Your dick was smooth. Smoother than most by the way. You treat that thing with something?”
He laughed. “No.”
“Yeah. I think you’re right. I would’ve felt it.”
“It was right at the tip—”
“Okay. Enough,” she said, holding out her arms. “I don’t need a fucking visual; especially if you plan on putting that thing inside me again.”
Brian got dressed and offered to wash the sheets, or at least pay for them, but Jackie declined, telling him she was going to throw them out. She wasn’t about to try and explain what had happened, to her friend, and would just have to hope the woman didn’t notice a couple of sheets were missing.
He went home and told her he would call her during the week.
The next morning, Brian woke in his own bed, relieved to see that his boxers weren’t soaked with blood. His bladder was full and needed to be emptied. Hopping out of bed, he headed into the bathroom and went to do his business when he looked down at his thing and nearly screamed.
The pimple, growth, whatever it was, was back and bigger than before. It was now the size of a golf ball. The thing was scarlet in color and the white head was back too, looking l
ike a mound of whipped butter that had been left out too long. Letting go of his member, the thing plummeted, weighed down by the growth. He had to pee badly, but feared the urethra’s exit was blocked completely.
Sweat lined his forehead as he began to panic.
Lifting his penis, he felt the growth. It was harder than yesterday. He gently squeezed it and cringed. The thing was full of more pus, almost solid, like one of those rubber balls he purchased from the quarter machines at the grocery store when he was a kid.
The disturbing thing had come back with more determination than ever. He shook his head thinking he should’ve just left it alone. Due to his highly agitated nervous system his need to pee was even greater now.
Unsure of how to stand, wanting to get his piss into the bowl, he stood sideways, like he did at Jackie’s friend’s, and tried to release his bladder, but nothing came out. He nudged the growth to the side, hoping to create enough space for his liquid waste to come through, like when a cartoon character rolls a boulder off of an oil well and the black sludge shoots into the air. He felt a pinch, but the technique worked as his urine spewed out in a messy torrent akin to a partially closed water main. The upraised toilet seat took the brunt of the waste and was soon streaked with tears of pee.
His feet tickled and he glanced down to see them getting splashed with urine as a dripping was occurring at the same time he was peeing. He couldn’t stop the flow and let it do what it was going to do, the pressure engulfing his tip in a bee-sting like pain. Grabbing the slippery growth, he pushed it farther to the side, pain radiating up the member. The obstructed spray became a steady stream as the urine flowed unimpeded. Relief had never felt so satisfying.
When he was done, he released the mass and felt a final drip splash onto his toes. Maybe if he popped the thing again, and cleaned it with alcohol, it wouldn’t come back. He squeezed the growth until a stream of clear fluid leaked from where the crusty whitehead was attached to the flesh.
Brian picked at the crusty cap, using his fingernail to pry it up. He fought through the pain and pulled the entire thing off. Stuck to his finger, the underside of the scab sticky, he flicked it away, aiming for the waste basket, but missing.
Looking at where the scab used to be, he saw yellow fluid inside, like the yolk of an uncooked egg. Placing his fingers around the mass, he was about to squeeze the pus out when he saw the gooey substance move as if something were inside.
Frozen in disbelief, eyes blinking, Brian couldn’t believe what he saw. It had to be the fluid settling, for there was nothing living in the growth. Stretching his flaccid penis closer to his face, he eyed the olive-like bubble. Pinching the sack, the fluid inside rose. He could easily, but painfully, have the thing emptied in moments with one huge squeeze of his fingers and be left with just a large flap of hollow skin. But would the thing come back, bigger? Not if he cleaned it with the alcohol, or maybe even glass cleaner—really go for the kill.
Maybe he should have left it alone and saw a doctor, but with the scab off, the fluid would just leak out and soak his clothing. Ready to empty the sucker, Brian saw the ooze swirl. Letting his penis rest in his hand, staring in awe, the growth exploded, covering his face with warm, runny goo.
Brian jerked his head back, wiping his face with the back of his hand. Feeling movement at the tip of his dick, he looked down and saw something coming from the deflated mass.
The creature had a snake-like body with arms and legs, and claws at least a half inch long. It had a wide mouth and opened it, revealing rows of tiny pointed teeth. Brian screamed. There was a monster, a fucking alien in his penis. He screamed and went to grab the creature, wanting it out of him, but the thing jumped to the floor before he had a chance.
With pus and blood covering his penis and dripping onto the floor, he lifted his bare foot and tried stomping on the creature, but missed as the agile critter slid behind the commode.
He needed a weapon and the closest, deadliest thing he could find was a plunger. Snatching up the tool, he peered around the toilet, ready to strike, but the creature was gone. A slimy trail led to a small hole in the back of the cabinet that the sink rested on.
Okay, he thought, the thing was probably hiding in there.
Putting down the plunger, he gathered up some toilet paper and cleaned himself off, then wrapped his member like a mummy and stuffed it into his boxers. He would tend to it more thoroughly later, having a more pressing matter to deal with now.
Brian sprinted to the kitchen, grabbed the largest steak knife he owned—the blade at least ten inches long—and returned to the bathroom. Crouching down, knife out, he opened the cabinet’s right door. Then the left. Sweat dripped from his forehead into his left eye, causing a minute amount of irritation, but he blinked through it.
He scanned the area, looking around and between the various cleaning supplies, but couldn’t see to the back. He would have to move some of the containers out of the way. He’d been meaning to clean out the place for some time, wishing to hell he had done so. The back of the cabinet was pitch dark. He wasn’t about to stick his hand in there for fear he’d lose a digit or two, remembering the creature’s pointy teeth.
Closing the cabinet doors, he bolted to the kitchen and retrieved a flashlight from the junk drawer and was back in the bathroom in less than thirty seconds. He checked the floor tiles for signs that the creature had slithered away, but found nothing to indicate it had fled.
Bending down, knife at the ready, he opened the doors and began removing the supplies near the front of the cabinet. Before long, he had a gathering of outdated cleaning supplies, brushes of various types, toilet paper, and unopened bars of soap. The cabinet had one disinfectant spray bottle remaining, easily wide enough to hide the monster’s body.
Keeping the light on it, Brian reached in with the knife and stabbed the blade around the bottle, hoping to stick whatever was hiding behind it. When nothing happened, he knocked the bottle on its side. Shining the light around, he noticed a gap between the sheetrock and the piping, the area glistening with slime. The alien thing had escaped into the wall, leaving some of its residue behind. That was another thing he had planned on doing when he first moved into the place—fill the damn gaps to keep out the cockroaches and rodents.
What was he supposed to do? Call the authorities? Animal control? Tell them an alien creature was living in his walls?
He stood up and closed the doors. There wasn’t much he could do. He couldn’t believe such a thing had come from him. Thinking about it, his stomach churned. Well, at least it was gone; out of his hands—and his penis.
Brian replaced the still-with-good-dates-on-them cleaners and carried the rest to the kitchen garbage where he threw them away.
He heard a knock at the door. “Just a second,” he told whoever it was and quickly washed his hands off in the sink. Going to the door, he looked through the peephole. He saw Jackie standing in the hallway dressed in her stewardess uniform. A piece of luggage rested behind her.
Brian hadn’t expected to see her again. He guessed she wanted to say goodbye. Maybe have a last go round before she left. He wasn’t showered and had morning breath. Screw it, he thought. With his dick in the condition it was, he wouldn’t be using it for awhile. If the woman wanted a romp, he’d simply have to tell her he wasn’t feeling good. Undoing the lock, he opened the door.
“Hello, Brian,” she said.
“Jackie, what are you doing here?”
“Can I come in?”
“Sure, sure.” He stepped aside, letting her pass, and closed the door behind her.
Facing the woman, Brian found his smile fading.
Jackie was staring at him, smiling, her teeth like miniature daggers. The whites of her eyes turned black, the irises disappearing. He staggered back, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Her teeth . . . they looked so familiar.
The woman shot a foot forward, kicking him in the abdomen. He sailed across the kitchen, unable to scream—the wind knocked f
rom his lungs—and crashed into a wall. He felt the sheetrock give just before he plummeted to the linoleum floor.
Dazed and frightened, he pushed himself off the floor. Looking around, he didn’t see Jackie, or whatever she was. Had he imagined the whole thing? Was he cracking up? He closed his eyes for a moment, then heard a low growl from above. Opening his eyes, he looked up.
Jackie was clinging to the ceiling, staring down at him with her void-like eyes. Her tongue protruded from her mouth, dangling loosely and dripping with sludge. She let out a hiss as she fell on top of him and held him down. He struggled, but it was no use, the bitch was strong. She sunk her claws into his shoulders. He screamed, but it was short-lived as the thing threw up a vile green fluid into his maw. Brian gagged as his mouth flooded with a salty, sour taste, reminding him of his own jizz, having once tasted it out of curiosity.
His mouth burned. He tried turning his head to spit out the substance, but the bitch held a hand over his lips, forcing him to swallow it.
His insides were on fire. He’d never felt such agony. The Jackie-thing pushed itself away, letting him writhe on the floor. She—it—had poisoned him, like a spider injecting its prey with venom, turning the quarry into mush so that it could devour the kill later.
Brian convulsed. With the pain at its peak, his body went numb, his thoughts leaving him. Everything went black.
* * *
With the body prepared for the taking, she ripped off the boxers and saw that its baby had been born. Delighted, the Jackie-thing called out to its offspring, telling her child to come to Momma. From around the corner, came the creature, leaving its slimy trail behind as it slithered into its mother’s arms.
A Mixed Bag of Blood Page 9