Erotic Flights of Fantasy II

by Melanie Thompson

  Exhausted by their passion, the two fell onto their backs heaving and panting.

  Something caught Frankenfurter’s attention. “Chervil, do you hear that? Something moved above us on the table.”

  “What, my master?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Frankenfurter leaped to his feet, pulling up his trousers as he did. The dials on his machine were whirling, all of them blinking in and out of dangerous red zones. “The machine is going crazy!”

  Chervil crawled to his feet using a stool for support. He stood there naked staring in amazement. “It’s alive!”

  The creature on the table blinked its startling-blue eyes. Thick shoulder muscles twitched, its long, tapered feet wiggled and it surged against the straps holding it in place.

  “Get me the ether,” the doctor yelled.

  Chervil raced to a tall cabinet with a myriad of tiny drawers, opened one and removed a cloth and a brown two-ounce bottle. With his eyes bulging out of his head, he eased toward Frankenfurter and passed him the bottle and the cloth. Frankenfurter liberally dosed the cloth with ether and crammed it over his creation’s perfect nose. The creature immediately ceased straining against its bonds and fell back.

  Frankenfurter was delighted and horrified at the same time. “We gave it life, Chervil. But it’s flawed. We can not allow it to exist with such a small organ. People will make fun of it. Why look at it, it’s miniscule. You must leave immediately to locate a properly-sized penis.”

  “But, master, where will I find such a thing?”

  Frankenfurter snarled. “I don’t care. Just do it.” The doctor backed away from Chervil and eyed the man’s cock and balls. “You realize, don’t you, that yours are just the right size and configuration to fit this creation of mine. Find me a set of equipment I can use or I will use yours and give you his.”

  Chervil fell to his knees in front of Frankenfurter. “You would do this to me? But Doctor, I love you. I have always worshipped the ground you walk on.”

  Frankenfurter lifted Chervil’s chin. “And I you, Henri. But you must see the need for a better set of genitalia for our creation. He can’t go through his life with the organs of a three-year-old child. They’re miniscule when compared with the size of his body. Now get dressed and go into Herrings Green. I heard stampeding cattle mowed down an entire crew of workmen constructing a new outer wall at St. Albans. With so many to choose from, there must be a suitable subject there.”

  * * * *

  Chervil left and was gone for three days. When he returned, it was late at night. He wore a look of triumph and carried a heavy leather bag. He came through the huge main entryway of the Priory and climbed the steps to Frankenfurter’s own bedroom without changing out of his driving coat, his filthy leathers or his mud-crusted top boots, bursting into Frankenfurter’s chamber without announcing himself first. He was shocked to find his lover lying naked on his back with the second footman sucking his raging erection.

  When the doctor saw him, he shoved Beckingham off the bed and wrapped a purple and gold silk dressing gown around his body. “Chervil, you have returned. Was your journey successful?”

  Chervil snorted. It was so like Frankenfurter to completely disregard his infidelity. The doctor’s morals were notoriously loose. Chervil glanced once at Beckingham’s slim, muscular body. The man’s endowments did not compare with his own or the one he carried in the leather satchel.

  “Yes, master, though I had to travel considerably farther than Herrings Green. All the men who died in the stampede were either too disfigured or completely unsuitable for our purpose.”

  Frankenfurter waved his arm to dismiss Beckingham, then stopped as he seemed to think better of it. “You wait here,” he said to the footman and then turned to Chervil. “Let us go to the laboratory in the dungeon. I will examine your find there.”

  As they walked down the hall heading for the circular stairway leading into the deep cellar, Frankenfurter threw his arm around Chervil’s shoulders. “I missed you, Henri. Where did you obtain your prize?”

  “I was desperate when I realized the men from Herrings Green would not suffice. I stayed at the Red Lion and while I was drinking a tankard in the tap room, I heard about a recent death at Gravenhurst Hall. The baron there was reputed to be a huge man. His son died in a hunting accident and was lying in state in the hall’s church. So, I saddled up and rode posthaste to find the son unguarded, checked his…uh, equipment and was stunned at the size and quality of said organ. So, I removed it and here it is.” He held up the leather bag.

  “Hurry, we must make the change and then wake up our creation.”

  Frankenfurter turned on the machine as he entered the laboratory. Lights glowed from the many dials as Chervil rushed around turning on the gas for the lamps. When the place was lit like a Christmas celebration, Frankenfurter opened the bag.

  “Oh my. Henri, you have outdone yourself. The baron’s son must have been a freak of nature.”

  Chervil giggled. “I know. It is huge.”

  Dressed in goggles, black-rubber gloves, white coat and black apron, Frankenfurter approached the creature slumbering on the table. “Let us begin.”

  * * * *

  Hours later, the delicate operation complete, Frankenfurter stood back to admire his work. “Chervil, thanks to you, he is now perfect. Behold my masterpiece.”

  Chervil stood next to the doctor and stared at the beast and his newly affixed organ. The enormous cock, sewn on with tiny precise stitches, was indeed the correct size to fit the creature’s huge body. “You are right, it is now perfect, my master.”

  Frankenfurter’s dark eyes gleamed with something Henri knew and understood. “Let us return to my chambers. I told Beckingham to wait.”

  Arm in arm, they climbed the circular staircase and entered the bedchamber. Beckingham, a strapping young man with golden skin and dark curly hair stood up when they entered.

  Excited and eager, Chervil and Frankenfurter quickly stripped off their clothing. They both advanced on Beckinham who quivered like a maiden, his eyes wide with anticipation and a little fear.

  Frankenfurter grabbed the footman in a powerful embrace and kissed his full, pouting lips. Chervil went around behind him and rubbed his swelling cock between the footman’s buttocks while he pressed kisses across the nape of his neck. Frankenfurter reached over Beckinham’s shoulder and kissed Chervil. “Let this be part of your reward.”

  The doctor shoved Beckingham onto the coverlet. He forced the footman’s legs open wide, found the brown jar of thick cream beside the bed and spread the man’s hairless, round globes. Beckingham’s anus was tiny and dark, his testicles tight to his scrotum, his cock rigid and throbbing on his stomach. The sight filled Chervil with terrible lust. When Frankenfurter had the opening lubricated, he could not wait any longer, but mounted the footman, thrusting his tormented organ deep into the beckoning orifice.

  Frankenfurter squatted over Beckingham’s face and thrust his shaft into the man’s mouth. Beckingham grabbed his own penis and worked it as the doctor and Chervil grunted and thrust. When the door was suddenly shoved open, they all froze.

  Chervil, on the brink of spewing, was the last to see Dr. Frankenfurter’s creation duck to enter the room. He was seven-feet tall and a god. His golden hair fell in shining waves across massive shoulders which tapered to a tiny waist and rippled abdominal muscles. When Chervil’s gaze dropped to the newly affixed genitals he gasped. The huge penis was fully erect!

  “This is blasphemy!” Frankenfurter’s creation screamed.

  “I told you not to use the seminarian’s head,” Chervil snapped. “Now look what you’ve made; a sanctimonious, bible-thumping monster.”

  The doctor rose from the bed, his eyes shining like stars. He held out his hand to the monster as one might to a frightened dog. “You are the offspring of my imagination. I made you into the most beautiful man I have ever seen. Chervil, is he not wondrous?”

  The creature swung his he
ad from side to side taking in the footman, just rising from the huge bed, Chervil standing naked and quite aroused and Dr. Frankenfurter. A look of confusion passed across his perfect features. “You are my maker?”

  “I am,” Frankenfurter stated with pride. “Chervil and I built you from the very best parts we could procure and then used the machine in the dungeon to give you life. You are my creation in every way.” He looked at Chervil. “Let’s call him Adonis, because his looks are truly godlike.”

  The creature bowed low and went down on one knee. “Then I am yours master and I will forever be called Adonis.” His voice dropped an octave. “What I saw on the bed affected me strongly.” He stood up, proudly displaying his excited condition. “Is that why you made me?”

  Frankenfurter glanced at Chervil who grinned and grabbed his penis.

  “Yes, that is exactly why we made you. Now climb onto the bed, my lovely Adonis, so we can discover the joys of life together and teach you what it’s like to be a true man.”

  Surf’s Up

  “What are you doing in here?” Bruce Van Artsdale hissed into the dark.

  “I couldn’t stay away, Bruce. You know I love you.”

  Bruce stood up and felt his way to the door of his cell in the bottom of the deepest part of San Quentin State Prison. He’d never learned to play well with others. If he didn’t soon, he would spend the entire twenty years of his sentence in the dark.

  “Roy, you know you shouldn’t be down here. If you get caught, they’ll fire you.”

  Roy Jones was a guard. African-American, he’d fallen in love with Bruce’s blonde, surfer looks the minute he’d laid eyes on him.

  “I’m coming in there, Bruce. Your ass better be ready for me.” The guard chuckled over his jailhouse humor.

  Once inside, he locked the door behind them. They fell to the floor in a hot embrace. Roy’s lips raked Bruce’s face, sucking his cheeks, his lips and his chin. “Damn, white boy, you so hot your skin’s on fire. You light one hell of a fire in me.”

  He grabbed Bruce’s hand and carried it to his enormous erection. Bruce freed it, holding the massive cock in one hand.

  “Get sucking.”

  Bruce dropped to Roy’s crotch and grabbed the huge piece of meat. He wrapped his lips around it and sucked it all the way down his throat. Roy groaned long and loudly into the dark.

  After only a few seconds, Roy grabbed his blonde hair and pulled. “That’s enough, white boy. Get them drawers off.”

  They felt for each other in the dark. Roy pushed Bruce onto his back and ripped his prison pants down. “Don’t throw them too far,” Bruce said. “I’ll never find them.”

  Laughing, Roy stuck two big fingers into Bruce’s asshole. He had some kind of lubricant smeared on them. Bruce sighed with relief and then gasped as Roy spread the two fingers opening his anus.

  “Here I come.” Roy laughed again as he jammed his dick into Bruce. The enormous organ opened Bruce to his absolute limit. He groaned with pain and then excitement as Roy grabbed for him in the dark. “Where’s that little white pecker of yours?”

  Stroking Bruce’s hard cock in rhythm to his own thrusts, Roy plunged in and out of his asshole, grunting with each stroke. He moved faster and faster as Bruce felt a load building. The hard floor pressed into his back as he lay there in the most submissive of positions, on his back with his legs spread wide open, big Roy resting against the backs of his thighs. It excited him unbearably. He shot his load into Roy’s big hand as his lover’s cock throbbed and bucked in his ass.

  “It’s time, white boy,” Roy cried as his dick swelled even bigger. He erupted into Bruce’s passage, moaning and groaning. “Damn you, Bruce, you done it to me again. This is all your fault. Why do I want you so bad?”

  They fell to the floor together panting with exhaustion. Suddenly, the concrete shook beneath them. “What the fuck?”

  “Earthquake,” Bruce whispered.

  The shaking got worse. The whole room rocked and swayed. Above them, the other floors of the prison groaned and shrieked as though in pain. They clutched each other as the ground heaved thrusting them up. The building fell away as they rose higher and higher. Roy screamed and clung to Bruce. They rose through the first floor and the second. All around them guards and prisoners fell into a deep abyss forming on each side of their concrete-slab.

  They popped out through the roof. Across the Bay, Bruce saw the John Knox Bridge crumbling into the water. “We’re fucked!” he screamed to Roy.

  “Oh god, I’m sorry I’m fucking a white boy,” Roy yelled. “Don’t kill me, please.”

  More of the prison rose around them. Bricks crumbled and a deep gash in the earth opened where the hills of Marin County used to be. “Everything’s falling into the ocean,” Bruce whimpered.

  When the shaking finally stopped, Bruce pulled himself to his feet using Roy’s big shoulder. The prison was destroyed. They stood on top of a huge pile of rubble, concrete, bricks and earth piled up by the quake. He saw no one alive and no movement anywhere around him.

  He looked across the Bay at San Francisco. The city was a smoking ruin. He heard a peculiar hiss and glanced at the water in the Bay below. It was rushing out at a high rate revealing rocks and the sea floor.

  “Tsunami,” Bruce whispered.

  “What?”

  “We are about to be hit by a mother-fucking tsunami!” Bruce screamed.

  “What’s that?” Roy asked, following Bruce as he searched the rubble, climbing over insulation, broken timbers and huge chunks of concrete.

  He finally found what he was looking for. “Yeah,” he said as he picked up an enormous wooden door. Looked like the door to Storage Room A. When he flipped it over he smiled with satisfaction. It was.

  “What you gonna do with that big old door, Bruce?”

  “Get ready. When the wave comes, hold onto me and don’t let go.”

  He saw it cresting what was left of the hills. The huge tidal wave was over five-hundred feet high. He knew when it hit the hills it would break and he’d have one chance to catch it…just one.

  “Bruce, you can’t…it’s too big.”

  “Roy, grab hold of me and hang on. I have to try. Oh man, what a rush.”

  The wave broke as he expected when it hit the remains of the hills. The crest fell, forming a tube followed by foaming surf that roared like a freight train. His stomach clenched, but inside he rejoiced. If you had to die, this was a surfer’s dream of the best way to go.

  The wall of water rushed toward him. He waited. “Now!” He screamed at Roy as he tossed the door flat. The wave picked it up and carried it at a terrifying rate. Bruce popped to his feet and used all his strength and body weight to turn his improvised board to the right. And it worked.

  The door cut into the wave as they sped down the enormous wall. At the bottom, Bruce cut hard again and the door lined up just right to sail in front of the huge crest. When he glanced over his shoulder, Bruce’s stomach lurched again. If the wave towering over them collapsed, they’d be crushed.

  He laid down in front of Roy. The black man’s eyes were tightly shut. Reaching back, he patted Roy’s head. “It’s okay, man. We like, made it,” he screamed above the roar of the wave.

  Roy opened one eye. Squinting, he looked around. “Oh god, Bruce, I can’t swim.”

  Bruce laughed. “You don’t have to.”

  * * * *

  They traveled for hours as the wave continued inland, growing smaller and smaller the farther they went. Beneath them, Bruce saw homes, farms, trees and tall buildings, first torn apart by the earthquakes and then swamped by the water. No one was going to survive this. When he saw hills in the distance, he knew the longest ride in surfing history was about over.

  “Get up, Roy. Get ready to jump.”

  Roy shook himself like a big dog. “I think I fell asleep. Where we at?”

  “I believe we surfed through the hills all the way to Sacramento. Those mountains up ahead are Nevada.”


  “No way.”

  “Yeah, we surfed all the way to Nevada.”

  “You see any living folks?”

  “So far, not a one.”

  When the wave fizzled out on the foothills of the El Dorado Hills, it rolled over a lake and then died. Roy and Bruce were left on the shores of the lake, mountains and tall trees all around them.

  They started hiking. “I think we should go up,” Bruce said. “Higher has gotta be better.”

  “Yeah, if we get any more quakes or any more of them killer waves, higher will definitely be better. What do you think happened?”

  “Don’t know man. Clouds are rolling in from the coast. Check it out. Maybe the earth got hit by an asteroid or a big meteor.”

  Thick, black clouds roiled to the west, moving rapidly toward them. When the clouds were overhead, it was as dark as night. They stumbled onto a cabin way up the side of one of the mountains and fell through the door.

  Feeling their way around, Bruce and Roy searched for matches or a lighter.

  “I got one.” Roy flicked a small cigarette lighter and it worked.

  “Where’d you find it?”

  “Right here on this table beside the bed.”

  The cabin was outfitted with oil lamps. Roy lit one and they surveyed their good fortune.

  “This has been one hell of a day,” Bruce said. “We made history or the Guinness Book of World Records at least. I know that was the longest ride any surfer ever made.”

  “Well, luck is still on our side, white boy. There’s food.”

  The cupboards were stocked with basic can goods, some flour, salt, potatoes and cornmeal. Roy whipped them up some corn dodgers, corn beef hash and beans. Bruce found a bottle of Crown Royal stashed in the cabinet under the sink and they feasted.

  A sudden knock at the door froze them in mid-bite.

  “We got any weapons?” Bruce asked.

  “No man, I left my side arm in your cell.”

  “Hello, anybody in there?” The voice belonged to a chick.

  Smiling, Bruce got up from the plain wood table and opened the door. A slender blonde in her early thirties or late twenties stood there looking like ten miles of bad road. Her tangled blond hair was matted with sticks and mud. There was more mud liberally spread all over her clothes and her face. She wore hiking boots, jeans and a plaid shirt torn to reveal a lot of her white sports bra.