In space, no one can hear you being raped. By what thought-process that came to mind, I could not be sure.
I pulled away from the telescope momentarily to consider my sanity, and realised that I was quite hungry; it had only been six hours since I ate a truly hearty steak--the last one my freezer was stocked with--but the rumbling could not have been a lie. I abandoned the balcony to arrive almost immediately in the vicinity of my fridge, which was flung open--it was not I who left it this way.
Cautiously, I listened; I glanced about and, finding nothing else amiss, I approached the cold, exposed racks. Nothing was gone or out of place among my neat assortment of foodstuffs, except--there was one wedge of cheese which was particularly out of place! Writhing, boring, squirming with utmost repugnance--maggots were having their orgiastic lively-hood on my cheese. They were a bit unusual, being pitch black in colour; one could have easily mistaken them for some terribly over-cooked noodles, had they not been so obviously alive.
I left the scene just for a minute, and returned donning my rubber dish-washing gloves--part of a clever scheme to remove the unwanted company without its slimy malevolence meeting my skin--but the cheese, as it turned out, was unoccupied. There was proof of my memory in the presence of boreholes and a disgusting, glossy film all over the item; but the possessed pieces of black licorice had gone elsewhere. Having full knowledge that the horror I witnessed was real, I became deeply frustrated in my fruitless search through the rest of the fridge, and decided that I was not hungry after all.
Having opted to retire for the night, I made sure to grab a towel before rushing to my sleeping quarters, thereafter closing the door behind me and stuffing the towel along the gap in the bottom. There was no way I would allow any chance of them coming near me--especially in my sleep--so these measures were called for. I switched on the ceiling light and proceeded to throw the sheets off my bed, only to inspect them carefully before reapplying them; and, satisfied, I switched the light off and gently sprawled upon my bed.
Sleep came swiftly, and ended as swiftly; for I came to in the paranoid hours just after midnight, with a feeling as though I had dreamt a terribly frightening dream, though I could not remember what it was. My attention came to my genitals, which were moist and sticky--did I have a wet dream? They were also terribly sore, especially around the opening of my urethra. I thought of going to the toilet, but was too soon overpowered by sleep once again, and this time was more peaceful than last.
I woke around noon with a minor headache and a bit of a nosebleed, which I thought nothing of, for both had ceased completely by the time I ate through a bag of potato crisps. I was afraid to open the fridge--I had even forgotten, yesterday, to throw out that piece of cheese; and amusingly enough, I slept with my rubber gloves on. I was feeling atypically energetic this day, so I straightened out my clothes, combed my sleazy hair, and left the confines of my flat-block.
I had a friend of sorts--a drag-queen I called him, but he was much better with make-up than most. He once told me--I thought jokingly, for I am a straight man--that I could ejaculate in his mouth if I wanted to. I determined, today, to take him up on that offer. This was, certainly, a day on which I felt like taking people up on old offers--a day that I felt required something of me; to bury my penis in a moist, warm place, and to climax.
My friend was clearly of East-Asian descent, being one of the precious few people in my area who were shorter than myself by even a centimetre; and his eyes, dressed as they were in eye-liner and mascara, were pleasantly-shaped and unassuming. His lips were inoffensive, yet quite fleshy. I wanted them wrapped around my penis--which is almost word-for-word what I said to him when I arrived at the meeting place we had arranged only an hour prior; the dimly-lit lavatory building of an unfrequented public park.
He told me that he expected some payment, “with interest,” at a later date, as he undid my trousers with hands which were uncomfortably large, yet so finely decorated.
My cock was already fully engorged by the time he freed it--it seemed, actually, to be larger than it had ever been before! My ‘friend’ was visibly impressed, as was I, and he went to work immediately.
Like a true professional, he played at the sensitive tip with his tongue, prodding and enveloping the glans. After little more than a minute, he nearly impaled his skull on my cock, and began the mutually ecstatic vacuum suction. My cock was swelling with blood--and maybe something else! Unbelievably, it grew thicker, forcing his jaw further agape as he thrust his head back and forth upon it, trying not to disappoint me; but it was not enough, for my member was increasingly numb. In what I could have called a fit of ‘sexual frustration,’ I clutched his head with both hands, proceeding to have my cock punch the back of his throat. He was making some strange, muffled sounds now, and began flailing his arms about, but I was almost there--just a little longer and I would climax.
His gag reflex had been sufficiently tested so that he was, finally, coating my cock with a great volume of vomit--this occurrence only made my penis harder! I could feel myself ejaculating now--it was thick, stringy, and I could tell it was not hindered by my friend’s constant vomiting on its way down his throat. My friend’s eyes, I could see, were rolling back into his head. It was then I decided to pull out, only to find that I was still ejaculating--and to what would have been my horror, had I not been so absorbed in ecstasy, I found that I had hanging from my penis a chain of writhing, black vines, coated in vomit and semen with a tinge of red.
My friend, still quite pleasing to the eye as he lie motionless on the floor, was obviously dead. The black, squirming things had finished evacuating my penis and slithered the rest of the way down his gullet before he finally stopped convulsing. His belly, once so smooth and flat, was now quite chunky--pregnant with those things. Hopeless as I was, I propped his body up in a stall and locked it, proceeding to climb out the top and go on about my day to day activities as though nothing had happened--until one day, his body would be indicated by a trail of gore and semen--my semen--and I would have to tell a terrible truth, thereafter living out the rest of my days in a comfortable, white cell.