Alan P. Scott - Fictions

MS found on a floppy

I have always believed that, despite our differences in physique and temperament, other men are just like me. I have always believed that all men harbor within themselves the same secret conviction: that if only the aloof and airbrushed beauties who inhabit the streets of my city as well as the pages of magazines could see the real man who lurks inside me, just once, they'd love me - lust for me, in fact - just the way those actual beautiful women seem to fawn solely on lumps of fashionable, witless flesh. So, although I was surprised and unavoidably suspicious when the tall, gorgeous redhead in the green minidress came up and sat across from me in the club, and took my hand in both of hers, and smiled, it didn't prevent me from smiling back at her and being as charming as I knew how.

I closed my paperback copy of the latest Jordan opus and tried to shove it into the back pocket of my slacks, but it wouldn't go. Eventually I had to give up and place it on the bar, where the cover promptly got wet. The strange thing is, though, that I didn't care! I just keep staring at this gorgeous stranger's beautiful green... eyes. Yes. Those, too.

And she didn't seem to care about my awkwardness, either. She was staring into my eyes, whenever I mustered up the nerve to look at her flawless face... she seemed mesmerized by whatever she saw in me. Her wide-eyed fascination made me talkative, and lulled my suspicions that I was being set up the way those sorority pledges had done, my first year at Tech. If this woman were acting, she was doing a far better job of it than they'd done.

I'm sure the half-dozen beers I went through while she sat and listened, and drank something clear and fizzy, didn't hurt my impression of her, either.

Besides, I'm not much for the club scene... for all I knew, every fat geek looking for diversion from the relentless hype of the virtuality convention was being met by the same sort of beauty, as some sort of sexist promotional scheme - I wouldn't put it past some of the better-heeled, less scrupulous vendors, anyway. There were enough of us conventioneers in the club, after all, as close as it was to the hotel. All male, most unaccustomed to drinking but determined to show that they were capable of having a good time without a keyboard in front of them.

Some of them I even knew... I grinned sheepishly as they waved at me and hooted, but even that didn't seem to put her off. She took my hand and led me out of the club.


Outside, she waited graciously for me to flag down a taxi and hand her in, my arm around her tiny waist. She didn't seem surprised that we weren't going to the hotel where the convention was being held; she stopped my mouth with a kiss when I tried to explain, that this convention happened to be in my home town and I could take her straight to the rooms I'd recently rented in a newly-renovated downtown loft space and decorated with expensive furniture and electronic equipment in forlorn anticipation of this very kind of event.

She let me put my hand on her breast, right there in the taxi. I would've been happy at that point even if she'd ditched me at the next stoplight, but she didn't; she wriggled and moaned wordlessly, giving me - and the taxi driver - an eyeful of her impressive cleavage every time she leaned over to kiss me.

When we arrived, I tipped the taxi driver about twice what I normally do, even though he'd probably gotten more than a fare's worth of free show, and led her to the stairway up to my loft. So far, I had no other neighbors, which was a shame... I wouldn't have minded a few people seeing me bring her in. She came right up the stairs with me, her hand in my back pocket fondling my ass as I fumbled for my keys.


I barely had time to put some music on the stereo before she was all over me. She pushed me back onto the couch and kissed me deeply. Her breath was strange but pleasant, sweet and tangy at the same time. I wanted to taste more. I wanted to taste all of her.

My hands came up of their own accord and grabbed her hips, drawing her forward and onto me. She wrapped her long legs around me and wriggled enticingly. Then she grabbed the front of her dress, and pulled it up over her head in one graceful motion. I lay back beneath her and enjoyed the view. She looked exactly like my kid sister's Barbie dolls - narrow waist, high conical breasts, no nipples that I could see - but she had something no Barbie ever possessed, rising up from between her legs.

Then she penetrated me. The pain each time was exquisite, but brief, and each thrust left behind another firm pressure in my belly. As she withdrew her ovipositor, a gleaming length of yellow chitin now striated with my blood, for the third time, a blissful lassitude spread through me...


From the flickering of light and darkness outside, I think it's been several days since she left me, and in that time all I've managed to do is pull my keyboard off of its shelf and onto the floor where I can type. Thank goodness I left my system booted up! I would never have been able to reach the power switch; it's all I can do to move my fingers.

If I could only log on, though! Every time I've tried, the system's timed out before I could enter my login name, much less my password. Word processing is at least not time-sensitive. My fingers are clumsy on the keys, but I find that if I concentrate, I can type a few characters in this file every hour or so. Luckily I am a good typist, because I do not want to have to go back and correct mistakes. I don't know how much time I have; I've been unable to remember the keyboard shortcut to see the system clock, and I can't see my alarm clock from where I lie near the computer.


I can feel the growths inside me as they consume my flesh and prepare to leave. They're moving around a lot more now, but there still isn't any pain, and I'm still paralyzed. Fortunately, I feel no hunger, and no need to eliminate waste.

In fact, I feel better than I've ever felt in my life, although I suspect my euphoria may be chemically induced by the larvae crawling underneath my skin. I'm grateful, nonetheless. Friends of mine saw me leaving the bar with her, so my reputation is higher than it's ever been... and her company was certainly delightful, as long as it lasted.

She's given me a marvelous gift, I know. I'm going to give birth. I'm going to be a parent... and I don't know how else I would've managed that.


A particularly powerful thrust, and I see the first of my dear little children poke its head out from my rib cage. I love


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