Stainless steel syringe pushes through the foreskin.
Generic brand Korean black market Sodium Pentothal slides through a pulsing bloodstream.
Nazi war criminals introduced Sodium Pentothal through the southwestern college towns of Texas early in the late eighties. The students took to banging it 'recreational' by the mid-nineties. Everyone and their mother caught its' effects on drunken frat boy reality video.
We've all seen what 'truth serum' does to egotistical drifters and desperadoes when they wise off to giants working the nightclub doors. It is a very small torture in the grand scheme of mortality.
She had planned that there would be a slip up in his story when it came right down to it. She believed so strongly in her feminine intuition of sociological dream interpretation, she could feel her venom rise as the syringe squeezed out the final cc. of truth juice.
- It doesn't mind. - she whispers tying off the rubber hose.
He willingly submitted for two basic reasons. The first and best played on the fact that he had nothing to hide. He hadn't slept with any other creature since he met her five years ago. He knew her mind to be clouded with the steady diet of ornately tapestried fictions.
Her mind a-blaze with images of young cosmopolite bodies lacking inhibition. She watched and read way too much. She imagined truths which would never come to past. This is a common problem among word people, especially writers of fiction.
Besides this reason he submitted quietly because, at least, she hadn't mentioned anything about the 'Stripper'. It wasn't the idea of the 'Stripper' being rubbed along his scrotum which concerned him. There is a hyper-pleasure associated with having your sack completely and professionally drained. He had it on first hand authority from the guys in Retail Division.
- She could suck the data off my silicon…any day. -
If you think the 'Stripper' is 'top-of-the-line…' at sucking large clusters of data off corporate governmental HDs and DVDs consider the electronic thrill of having your own polarity consumed by this marvelous device.
T'is the major problem, you see? He has been diagnosed as VoltPhobic. It's not like he started out with a fear of touching electrical appliances. He quite liked the idea as a youth. His earliest childhood electrical memory, after grabbing a toaster and stainless steel faucet, was that of a nine volt battery logo representing black lightning bolt cats each chasing the others tail up his arms, along his spine and finally, playfully patting his brain with sharp little paper thin claws.
He hadn't figured it for a problem until a talk show host brought it to his attention. Then making light of it to the company medical office had really proved he was a phobie. As sure as stink on Sunday morning this fear would ruin his life if he kept it hidden in denial.
Doctor Hedskrǖ filed many psych- grants to research and treat his unique phobic reaction of laughing and ejaculating at the point of contact. Luckily, his sweet Tormentress knew nothing of his condition.
