### ### ### ### ### #### ### ### ### #### ### ### ##### ### ### ### ### ### ### ### ### ### ##### ### ### ########## ### ### ########## ### ### ### ### Underground eXperts United Presents... ####### ## ## ####### # # ## ## ####### ####### ## ## ## ## ##### ## ## ## ## ## #### ## ## #### # # ####### ####### ## ## ## ## ## ## ##### ## ## ## ## ## ## ####### ####### # # ## ####### ####### [ Sphincter Hatch ] [ By Max West ] ____________________________________________________________________ ____________________________________________________________________ R. H. Pollette writing as Max West 1175 A Oak st. (C)1977 R. H. Pollette San Francisco, CA (415) 626-1701 Extract from S P H I N C T E R H A T C H BY M A X W E S T Audry knew they were talking about her - didn't they all! And yeah!, she was in the bathroom alright, in fact she was more in the bathroom than she'd ever been or would be, if Doreen, a generally trustworthy source, who'd turned her on to what was going down in the little girl's room wasn't just lying; she was still skeptical. Gingerly Aud positioned herself over the Italian Futurist style bidet - polished gold highlights and Euro-tech engineering, complimenting a spotless white bowl. She'd seen one of these things before but she was still uncertain if she was straddling it with the proper amount of e'lan. While she worried momentarily if Europeans watching her would think she was cool and had mastered the technique, soothing ambient sounds from the wall speakers and the first tickling probes of the much discussed Warm water spray/Dual Lick Action, (Pat. Syntheotongue6669990), had begun to put her at ease in ways she hadn't considered before. Audry decided that etiquette wasn't going to be an issue. She glanced at the instruction plate against the back wall, quickly reading it before depositing the fifty cents required to run the optional 'G' spot massager. "Hell!" she said under her breath, "I'm worth it!" The machine was so gentle yet insistent Aud wondered, between the waves beginning to crash on the shores of Libido Beach, where this handsome bidet had been all her life. As she gathered momentum to the rhythms of her porcelain mount it struck her that the damn toilet had a Hell of a lot more sensitivity than any man she'd ever met... These and other thoughts just like them, were rudely interrupted by an untimely knocking on the stall door. "'Scuse me, are you about through in there, we'd like a turn too..." Before Audry could send her visitors packing she was engulfed in a searing blast of orgasmic heat, like a tour through the heart of a collapsing dwarf star, hammering her from head to toe; All systems were GO!, the massager had found its mark. She panted over the inarticulate fixture. On the other side of the door someone was impatiently tapping a foot and mumbling under their breath: "Damn! How long's it take anyway?" but she had absolutely no intention of leaving until she'd milked her fifty cents worth out of the obliging bidet. She was thankful at first when the nuisance finally left a few minutes later, then regretful at the machine's last tremors, shaking it to a stop. Reluctantly she slid off, pulling up her pants with a snap. It was just as well, she didn't have any more change and she should get back to the table anyway, before Dirk stole her drink. "That was so good.." she told the appliance's reflection, while she fixed her lipstick in the mirror over the sink, "I'm going to give you a gold star and you can be my pet every Saturday night from now on." Audry suspected, considering who owned the place, that almost everything in the 'Drop' was boosted from the Alien visitors that sometimes showed up over at the county seat - for all she knew the damn thing winking under the overhead florescence lights, was probably alive, maybe even intelligent. She eyed the Bidet ruefully. "Whaa?" grunted Dirk, downing another shot and fixing J. with a bloodshot eye. "Where'd she go man?! Where did Audry go?" J., who'd intended needling the fucked-up Dirk by suggesting Audry had maybe found other amusements, was getting sort of worried himself; she'd been gone too long. Dirk gazed around slowly and saw only the wild gyrations of the screaming patrons. Deliberately, he took another shot, wavering slightly in his seat. It was too goddamned loud in there. J., who didn't like anyone having more fun than he was, whether they were or not, was getting seriously pissed at his pal. "WHERE DID SHE GO, MAN!!!? He yelled over the throbbing band. Without warning Dirk covered J. in a thick blanket of hot orange vomit. His entire body convulsed like a frantic sea slug across the table top, struggling to squeeze every last drop out of himself and onto his intended target. The dry heaving bellows and choked cries of anguish to a, (hopefully), merciful god, escaping Dirk's lips sent some of the lower life forms in the place, tuned to decibel reflex, into automatic rut response battling each other on the dance floor with spontaneously erupting antlers, showing off alien plumage that did not equate favorably with most of the folks there. All too soon the groovy dancers were locked into ceremonies of a more basic nature which though perfectly normal in an antediluvian swamp at mating season, were, even in a club such as this one, completely inappropriate. The Emcee lit a cigarette in the gloom behind the stage. To a fly on the wall he might have seemed not unlike a young, though somewhat flabby, dissipated and unappealing, Frank Sinatra at his peak. Exhaling gratefully he commented to no-one in particular, "Sure is loud out there..." Realizing that he was not alone he leaned against one of the supports, bow tie hanging loose, watching the little gal in the shiny VR suit, slowly shuffling on her hands and knees out of the shadows, toward him. "What's your name baby?" he crooned to her when he thought she was close enough to understand him. Audry looked up, startled that a happy green VR dinosaur - a distant cousin to Barney, she supposed - could or would smoke; it didn't seem very healthy. All around it the virtual landscape sprouted cute multi-colored geometrical polygon flowers and Tetrahedral shapes to a jungle rock sound track. Rolling hills covered with fractal vegetation under a perfectly blue sky, completed the scene. The devious Announcer recognizing an opportunity when he saw one - this chick was so obviously lost she didn't know if she was coming or going - reached for the fly of his Tuxedo pants and immediately the frank sound of zipper teeth opening wide filled the air. Mr. happy Saurian seemed to pull a magic ice cream out of nowhere, like a special trick just for her and right on top, invitingly red and shiny, was a big red cherry; Audry knew she just had to have a lick, and pretty soon she did! Yummy! Our overly-confident Emcee stood bowed, his inflated gray fleshed cock, like the stump of an amputated limb, jutting from his pants directly into the face of the confused girl in front of him who in VR space, still thought she had herself an ice cream cone. "Nice Dino, hold still, will you?" Audry slurred. To the reader: Earlier she'd checked out one of the 'members only' suits with the Beta Zovian's credit card, but was now too drunk to remember she even had it on. Taking a great big bite she heard the Dinosaur gasp. "Careful! O.K.? It's the only one I got!" Audry smacked her lips trying to localize the suddenly familiar flavor. Something about the taste of that icy treat put her in mind of a certain smart-ass Emcee at the Drop. The stats rose in her mind unbidden, outlined in Day-Glo green: Mange, Benjamin P. Age: 34. Sign: Sagittarius. Employment: Announcer at Dew Drop Inn. Breakdown: Male: 98%. Groovy: 78%. Fun: 65%. Gets along well with others: 54%. Snappy dresser: 89%. First impression: 97%. Trustworthiness (short term): 98%. Trustworthiness (Long term): 12%. Ass kissing: 99%. Audry pulled back, alarms beginning to sound through her alcohol haze - it was becoming all too clear: The Ocho Ball Disco Lounge in L.A... The guy with the comb over and fluffy sideburns who looked like an accountant, dressed in a brown velvet suit and sky-high platform shoes wavered before her. Through the gap in the purple Tom Jones shirt unbuttoned to his waist, a Sagittarius medallion the size of a Volkswagon hubcap swung on a gold chain against the bare white puffiness of his chest. "Hey, disco mama! Wanna do some Blow?" He'd asked innocently enough. He seemed like a nice guy there in the Men's as he chopped out lines of the white stuff; the Right Stuff! Jabbering away: "Did you know there's a product on the market that's made from cadaver flesh?" Out on the dance floor the BeeGees were layin' down a cool beat : "Ah!, Ah!, Ah!, Ah, stayin' aliiiii-ve!" She couldn't help noticing that against the black satin sheets of his bed, without his platform shoes and medal, he'd seemed rather small and uninteresting. The next day Lewis, jealous as a Bitch-Queen, had made her read Disco-Boy's dossier (he'd compiled one on everybody she'd ever met). Page 1. B. P. Mange: First sexual encounter with second/third party: Frantic intercourse at scene of freak hunting accident, subsequent erotic addiction to "Field and Stream" magazine. Hypothetical, juvenile trauma suggested by reaction to various stuffed heads in father's trophy room, including: Giraffe, Hyena, Snapping Turtle, Deer, Bengal Tiger, Tufted Tit mouse, Manta Ray, Howler Monkey, Black Adder, Three headed Chernobyl Human infant in pickle jar. Also suspected: various discarded gun parts including Mauser firing pins, Pork belly extruder/smoker mechanism from mid-twentieth century Germany, Plasma pumps from vintage Eradicator hand guns... "Aw shit!" sputtered Audry, coughing on what she'd assumed was virtual melted ice cream from a virtual sugar cone. She ripped off the goggles in a spasm of loathing, now fully conscious, trying to get out of the way of the torrent of grunting, milky sludge pumping from the guy's mindless, chancre-pocked yet undeniably well-veined fuck rod. "Oh Baby! You know I can't hold back once you stick that raspy little Leopard tongue on me, YAAAAA!!!" Mange, eyes clamped shut in lust, didn't realize Audry was thoroughly out of VR space and now analyzing his pitiful display. "For God's sake!" Even though she'd avoided most of the stinking discharge, the stuff was in her hair and all over the rental suit - somebody'd have to pay the cleaning bill, but it sure wasn't going to be her! Why couldn't life just be like that clean, happy place where Mr. Dinosaur hung out?, (even if he did smoke), she asked what was obviously an extremely disinterested Universe. Behind her Benjamin howled at an imagined full moon. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- uXu #450 Underground eXperts United 1998 uXu #450 ftp://ftp.etext.org/pub/Zines/UXU/ ---------------------------------------------------------------------------