A little of this and a bit more

Alan Crawford presents twisted short and some longer stories for adults, with quite a number of his rants and observations as well.

Several curious people, really it’s just one, asked me how or where the ideas came from. Thankfully there’s no clear answer. When the trousers, mind, or weather conditions suit such things, the computer opens, a page appears, and it starts to flow. All designed to promote my nonsense, which may be adult in nature but not necessarily mature.

Space Palace Adventure – 3

Reading Time: 11 minutes

It began, it happened over and over and over again

Moony as it tuned out was fit, so fit he was a gentle yet forceful fit into the ocean that was Carol. His size did matter and wasn’t Carol appreciative. She lay back in the smouldering module, wet with sweat, passion and tears. This amazing session of sexual gymnastics had only just begun yet Carol had reached orgasm at Moony’s very first touch.

It was a caring and thoughtful touch she’d never thought Moony capable of. The kiss, the sweeps and the nibbles were just enough to spark the reaction, it was a full throated scream. It was that much of a whole body reaction that Moony thought at first he’d something wrong. That was until she pushed his head even further in and he understood that he was on the right track. The adventure sure rocked the space palace.

Her first sweeping climax and drained relaxation state over with, she decided to return the favour. The history boffins looked at the footage many years later – yes the module had a secret eye recording feature, ( unbeknownst to Carol or Moony ), and wondered how she managed such a feat of sexual athleticism. Especially as oral sex had been banned my Mumblet.

It in it’s dominating way had thought that the name and the act had a certain sameness. Not the act, joy or outcome, it was that the street slang for a head job was; To enjoy a Mumblet or indeed be mumbleated. This could not be allowed, so the act of he on she, she on he, she on she and he on he had to stop. Stop it did, as far as the universe thought, but not really, it was just driven underground. In fact a new slang word appeared and kept on the low down, it was to company, to provide or receive or endure being accompanied.

Carol and Moony didn’t care, they had half of their suits off and had already reached a strong company position. Carol had a complete takeover underway and she knew it, while Moony hoped that she could take over more. Her appetite became ferocious as did the thunderous orgasm that nearly twisted Moony’s neck. Carol’s neck remained remarkably rigid, as Moony became less so.

Once both of them had recovered enough

The act of serious pelvic bumping intercourse lasted for about twenty minutes. Carol screamed some more, both came some more and even the module’s secret eye screamed, it was all too much. Too much noise, too much mess to absorb and every conceivable space in the five metre round facility had to be wiped down. The ship would be very upset when it found out.

The conception was complete and the storage tube automatically popped out of it’s dispenser in preparation of the almost immediate birth. No-one knew how it knew but they always did, they just went pop !! and landed in the lap of the first human female within the fifteen metre range it was set for.

The company had decided a number of years ago to reduce the time of “conception to placement” in the maturation storage tube. It was now down to three minutes, not even enough time to come down from the high, to pull up your pants or zip up the zip. But it was just enough time to get the ugly transfer spatular ready. Growing oens wasn’t a glamorous affair, even if the affair was.

The regret and recriminations from this spectacular sexual coupling was yet to come.

Robert had caught some of the corridor racing. The banging, whishing, banging, whishing and banging. He even heard vibrations in the floor. It was the banging going on in the smouldering module, although he didn’t know what was causing that. After the rambulous rumblings of Moony and Carol’s love making had stopped, Robert peeked a look outside the stretching chamber.

The high heels he was wearing had disappeared. He was now shoeless and wearing a very odd and inflated white ballon suit, the extra air inflated within that suit would capture the spoilage of the stretching. As it hadn’t occurred he was half bouncing, flying and falling about the place as he sneaked a look into the corridor.

Kevin stumbled by and failed to see the blimp boy Robert in his flash suit

Kevin was preoccupied with something behind him, he’s missed them. As well as failing to see Robert the wanker.

“Hurry” .. Kevin grunted, he had work to do and these missed distractions were getting him nowhere.

Robert had to get to the funnel. The only place for the captain he thought, he thought he was still the Captain. Even though that idiot Moony had splodged him and placed him in the stretching chamber – he was still in charge.

“Damn that Moony and where the blinkers is that silly clone I made to pleasure Carol with ?” Robert realised he was stumbling this self questioning out loud, to no-one or anything in particular.

“Why’d I bother with this Carol fixation, woman aren’t really my thing and I know i’m not theirs.”

Robert had found the release valve for the balloon suit which was unfortunately on his backside. The opening of the suit gave him a good push along, but his butt was now on display. Robert didn’t care though he was in a hurry but he knew that there was no-one to see his derrière, only the eyes and they didn’t care. They were distracted by the salacious sauciness in the smouldering module anyway. Robert was deep down, a very lonely man, without much going for him.

He was 53 years old, dyslexic, colour blind and had very hairy ears. He was also rather short, balding, overweight and had the misfortune of wearing the oldest and badly stained set of second hand dentures. These dentures had a purple stain and were the only ones he could afford, just prior to boarding the space palace. The purple teeth signalled ( to those unfortunate to see ) a particular price bracket which was nick named shit poor.

His haste to get laid while celebrating this assignment to the palace, saw his chance for new teeth, a hair transplant and two minute lipo suction pass him by. The autbot pleasure machine that took his fancy, took his money card and his identification pass. He only managed to bluff his way onto the palace with a plausible story. The story was so piss poor that the ship couldn’t possibly deny it’s pitiful truth. The “pitiful truth” was exactly what the ship tagged each of Robert’s uniforms with.

He wandered about prior to this recent upheaval, in a mauve overall suit, with “pitiful truth” printed on his chest, his purple teeth and a certain dribble that could never be removed. Of course he had three pairs of lovely high heels that he would swap with gay abandon. He was just at the funnel door, when he saw that an eye was staring right at him  ….

Life in the Mumblet satellite science headquarters was pretty lame

It sat on the edge of the 980 foot “west crater” described in 1969 as the “sea of tranquility”. It was later named by the company as the “slosh point” due to the near mishap with the fuel sloshing about in Apollo 11 and setting off a low fuel warning as it landed. It landed men on the moon. The company liked words that had a liquid feel or sound to them for some reason. They considered calling it the “squelching pad” but it sounded rude.

Back in the days of this first man landing on earth’s moon and the ongoing American space exploration, everything was controlled by NASA. America was the large and rather annoying country that lead to world wars 3 and 4 and their boffins were the masters of the whole schibang. The other super power of the day Russia, had it’s own boffins but they had slipped down the totem pole of space exploration at that time.

So the Mumblet compound sat on the edge of this crater, it squatted like a bear trying to wipe it’s backside with a nice white rabbit. It had three arms or wings that bounced out from the main body section and could rotate around, as and when required. As viewed from above the compound had an awkward look and sense about it. That look and sense was right, it was both, and some.

Trevor Nubleous sat in his personal lodging module and just started out the window. He felt awkward.

Of course as Trevor Nubleous was half man and dog, he couldn’t see much because the window was so low down. He had to scamper up the maze of ramps and frames to see out the top through the ceiling like window opening above him. A little like Kevin, Trevor thought himself as a he. He didn’t know any different, as he had no sex, no genitalia or inkling that he should have any. That’s what the employees were for, they could pop out oens very quickly.

This would in the end, save “him” from exploring his non existent sexuality. Trevor remained squat at the lower window and wee’d against the wee post he demanded be installed there. It had great plumbing, was free from static electricity and provide a sweet smell, after his sour smell had hit the pan. There was even a little mirror to help adjust anything that needed adjusting, although he didn’t have much to adjust. He was waiting and he was nervous.

Back when they landed the headquarters here at the slosh point, this small satellite science headquarters ended up being called – muddle. Muddle didn’t fit with liquid theme of course, but was the pilot’s terribly enlarged enlarged adenoids that caused him to announce..

Look out we’ve arrived and it’s a muddle ….

He was tying to warn of an enormous puddle. He thought the west crater had filled with water and alerted everyone to a very wet and dangerous landing, by screaming muddle. He screamed that much and that often during the 20 minute landing procedure that everyone though the place was called muddle. So muddle it is.

It wasn’t water, he was only looking at a reflection from the crater’s floor. Trevor had a “sort of” friend and it was this impending visit that had concerned “him”. Trevor was quite worried about the outcome of this visit and his report about the strange happenings on the science palace in the stars.

Robert had seen the eye and of course the eye had seen him

It sent a micro second message to the ship and the ship sent the wiring. This wiring despatch and it’s subsequent arrival only took two seconds. These last two seconds of Robert’s life were rather intense. He saw them coming and realised that it was the end. The end of the wiring grabbed him by the right ear and lifted him off the ground like a rag doll.

It was incredibly odd, as it turned out, because that was exactly what Robert became, a rag doll ripped in twenty six sections with the normal amount of goop, juice, blood, bones and guts. He was spread all over the funnel door and corridor.

The wiring only had one thing to do and that was it’s preprogrammed task, which was to rip the crap out of what it was told to. The ship told it do so, so it did so. Ripping complete it slid back into the wall. Trevor on the other hand had not managed to slide into any wall or other hiding place. He sat there very much in his place ( and relived after his wee ) waiting. The visitor has announced that he’d be there at 19.45 Earth time and it was that now.

This visitor had a peculiar trait that left a stain and odd noises wherever he walked. It wasn’t a train but a trait and it was the nature of the trait ( and the odd sounds ) that disturbed those who witnessed it. The visitor was the second in charge of Mumblet and as he was secondary he had been manufactured by the much older order of gene manipulation group (moogmg ) who’s work had since been taken over and improved upon by Trevor and his minions.

This visitor had been plastered, sculptured and grown from a garden snail, a man and a duck and was a cruel display of exactly why the moogmg had been dematerialised into fertiliser some 15 years ago.

Trevor sat in wait

The door screamed it’s opening and there he was. Nobby !! that was is real name it was told, but those out of ear shot of any eyes, walls or other beings called him  – “slippery back” he slid across the room after the door let him through. He stank a bit, quacked a grunt and did what normal humans would call sit down, but in his case it was a squash and a squelch, as he hit the seat’s firm grasp.

“Spludger me Nubleous! What in the shit are you doing on that space palace ? are any of the humans still alive and have you got the oen yet ?”

Trevor started to answer, but ended up farting a loud, sharp and smelly retort that scared Nobby witless. This really broke the mood and gave rise to a new expression in corporate Mumblet meetings … “Trevulate and die”. Nobby quacked and screamed at the same time and demanded an apology. Trevor did and then proceeded to explain the goings on in the palace.

Trevor had two minutes of excruciatingly long embarrassment to endure before Nobby finally replied. It took that long for Nobby to think, he wasn’t the quickest, but he was by far the cruelest and that is what he was made for. To exact revenge and apply extreme punishment to those employees that deserved it and that was most of them.

“So we have the oen and we have two humans left alive is that right ?”

“Yes sir….”

“What have you done with that Kevin, is it still ravaging around the ship ?”

“Yes sir but he won’t be for long as he’s been set to self decay within one year.”

“So you’ve got a Kevin creature with a year to go, two humans hiding from him while on their way to trumular 7, is that it right Nubleous, is that the best you can do ? what the “kiddle” were you thinking, a year !! –  could you not have set it for two days or something equally sensible ?”

“Yes sir … Trevor was not feeling very well and felt some more serious flatulence building and gaining some momentum. This fart, if it happened could be the last thing he ever did. Trevor squirmed, Nobby thought and all the while Moony and Carol shipped on regardless. Their next major difficulty would be to get from the module to the funnel in one piece.

Thanks to their wild ructions and the demise of Robert, there was a great deal of mess to get through.

Nobby left Trevor with a bad taste in his mouth, a stench in his nostrils and a stain on his chair

All in all, it wasn’t the worst that could have happened. Nobby had been known to dissect his cause of annoyance with a laser knife and spread the remains all over the nearest wall, Trevor’s wall remained spotless.

Although Carol couldn’t say the same for the smouldering module, it was a mess. Moony was snoring as they waited for the corridor to be clear of all things Kevin.

“Hey, wake up Moony”

“Hmmm yes, i’m awake .. Although he didn’t seem so. He grabbed himself in such a way that only a man can and stretched his weary bones and shrinking muscles into shape.”

“What’s happening, is the corridor clear ? are we off then.”

“I’ve had a look and it looks ok, are you ready ?”

“Well yeah lets’s go. We’re off to the funnel right ? “

“That’s what the message said, and looking at the state of that freaky creature thing we’d better hurry up.” Kevin was running out of corridor to check and in it’s own way decided to backtrack itself and see what it could find. Recalling that close call in corridor nine, maybe “he” should cut through to there again. The decision was made and the leg things worked their magic, so off “he” went.

Carol and Moony escaped this time with no cliched close call, or a fright or even an inkling that there was any chance of being “Kevined” – as it turned out “he” hadn’t turned up and missed them by two hours.

No close call, no call at all. The alarming thing for the super breeders was confronting the front, back and sides, as in within, without and backsides of Robert. His high heel shoes glistened in the goop and guts. They were waterproof after all, Robert would have been so pleased.

“Is this all that’s left of Robert ?”

“Well hopefully it is, because if he’s still moving about he wont be feeling so good, or much help to us.”

“Don’t be a wally Moony, this is terrible, even though he was such a wanker he didn’t deserve this ending.”

Talking of endings, they had to step though certain parts of him, they’d regret for years, it was disgusting but they had to get into the funnel. well through the door they slopped and made their way to two of the three chairs/stations. Their surprise was palpable, their hearts leapt and their throats sighed .. the ship had taken control and set the course they thought they were there to set. trumular 7 was the next stop, whether they wanted or not, of course they wanted to, they were told to go there.

Meanwhile, Trevor had gathered his senses and sent a self destruct message to Kevin. Poor old Kevin suddenly decided to change corridors again and headed for the rubbish portal on deck three. he pressed the entry button, stepped inside and then smacked the emergency empty button. the poor old creature just evaporated into space, screaming and weeing like a firehouse, the oddly shaped stains on the side of the ship could never be removed.

So there they were, Carol and Moony, blessed with nothing much to do, no apparent danger, or so they thought, they tumbled into another round of love making that lasted for days. the ship was very interested in this act and the fast approaching craft that had appeared on it’s starboard side. it was well confused, but this was the right side. there would be nothing right about it.

History would show that Moony and Carol were very much the beginning. they were the beginning of the end. those that cared about their life, should have been very pleased that those two “less than startling” minds of 2140 had got together and endured the chaos of the space palace in the stars.

After all Moony wasn’t supposed to be captain. He was a polite pilot. He was an unfortunate participant, stumbling his way through no end of drama and intrigue, although it could be said, he knew nothing about the intrigue. Blissfully unaware. Carol on the other hand was a little smarter and ended up using the chain of events to her best advantage.

Part four

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I'm an increasingly grumpy old fart posting rants, observations and trying to write somewhat twisted short and slightly longer stories for adults. All rights reserved unless otherwise credited © Alan Crawford - 2024

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