Bullet Through Your Face (improved format) (40 page)

Oh, yeah, when Hays saw it, he knowed just what he were lookin’
at . . .
“The Supremess,” he whispered.
—Yes—
But it weren’t like regler talkin’ that this alien gal talked ta Hays.
It were more like a scrapin’ sound in his head that sounded like
words.
Teleperthee,
he suspected.
—
Where are the collection receptacles?
—the Supremess asked.
“Oh, you mean them 2-liter Coke bottles filled with cum? Why,
they’se down in the fridge, ya silly gray bitch,” Hays was kind
enough to answer.
—
You fool! Full-positive straticular apogee is about to occur!
—
“Yeah, I know, ya ditz, and that means you gots ta leave. Well
this time you’se leavin’
without
them bottles’a peckersnot, so how do
ya like
them
cookies?”
—
Go back and get them!
—the alien woman’s telepathic voice rocketed.—
Get them and bring them to me!
—
“Fuck you and the spaceship you rode in on,” Hays replied, chucklin’.
“I ain’t doin’ nothin’ ‘cept maybe bitch-slappin’ the aylights out’a
ya.”
—
RETRIEVE THE COLLECTION RECEPTICALS! MY RACE CANNOT PROPAGATE WITHOUT THEM!
—
“Propergate
this,
spacecunt!” Hays grabbed his crotch and gave a squeeze. “I ain’t doin’ shit you say!”
—
Oh, yes you will . . .
—
Suddenly the Supremess’ black-crystal eyes began to glow with the same
danged purple light that come out’a Mrs. Willis’ marble back the motel!
Yes sir, that same evil, mind-controlin’, hypnertizin’ light!
—
You have no choice but to do as I bid
—the Supremess said.
—
Step back into the egression beam, then retrieve the collection rececepticals, and bring them back to me at once
—
Hays stared, stock-still, and his voice droned: “Yes, my alien master.
Your wish is my command . . .” Then Hays cut a big shuckin’ grin, and
he grabbed his crotch again. “In a pig’s peehole, ya alien tramp!”
See, Hays anticerpated this, which was why he put his mirrorfinished
sunglasses back on when he went out into Doc Willis’ back yard! The
light weren’t havin’ no effect on him at all!
Then he dropped his drawers, sportin’ a typical mighty erection.
“Hey, hosebag! If it’s cum you want, it’s cum you’ll get!”
Hays hauled the stupefied alien to the ship’s floor. Then he hocked a good-sized spitter on his pole, pinned the alien bitch’s
sixtoed feet back behind her ear-holes, and sunk every inch’a his
pantsload right in her li’l gray alien pussy. A mite tight, it was,
like
real
tight, yes sir, but he got ta puttin’ some serious cockstrokes on her,
and it soon became obvious that she didn’t object. So little she was,
though, it reminded him’a what it might be like ta fuck a kid, but . .
.
This ain’t no kid!
he confirmed the truth.
This here’s a alien overlord who’s been stealin’human spunk!
—
Ooo, ooo, what an earthling!
—she said hotly. —
Harder!
Harder!
—
Hays pumped on as effectively as an oil derrick. “I’se plumb givin’ it to ya damn near hard as I can, ya otherworldly whore!”
—
Harder! Harder!
—
Well, shee-it. PFC Micah Hays were never one ta deny a gal her desires, even if it were a
alien
gal! So’s he got ta humpin’ hard as he could yes sir, whiles the hot’n
horny Supremess just kept shriekin’ her orgameric bliss inta his head’n
comin’ like a Peterbilt with no
brakes. And a right
good
her space-pussy felt, it did, real tight’n hot’n wet like a true tramp.
And just when he’s were fixin’to drop a shot’a snot like ta make a
rhinoceros feel inadequate, he thought:
Now wait just one dang second! Cum is just what this evil alien bitch WANTS!

So that’s the one thang I CAIN’T give her!
So . . . he’d give her the next best thing: the
box-humpin’
of her life!
Yeah!
And that’s just what he done, he did. He humped the slimy alien bitch’s bones like there were no tomorrow—
—
More! More! Harder! Harder!
—
Micah Hays complied, he shore did, slammin’ her twat hard as a sledgehammer.
—
Harder! Harder!
—
And then he
really
turned it on . . .
She
screamed
in his head, so hard she were comin’! Perhaps she were the first alien
ever ta have multerple orgasms! No, Micah Hays summoned all’a his
discerpline, and he did not drop his wax, but by the time he were done
givin’ this bitch the kind’a hard’n fast fuckin’ she needed, she were—
“Oops,” Hays said when he looked at her.
The bitch were dead. That li’l cooze on her looked like a pile’a gray
meat by now, with alls’a this thin gray blood leakin’ out, and
then big eyes in her skull were closed, and she just lay there like a
bag’a twigs . . .

“Well, how do ya like that? I done busted her hole just like I done
ta Miss Brill when I were a tot!” Shore, n’fact, Hays in his time had
busted a fair share’a boxes with his giant dick, but this were the
first
time he’d busted a
alien’s
hole . . .

Shee-it. I done fucked the bitch to death!
Suddenly the ship began to gyrate, probably some funky
guidance computer on automatic. The apergee were here’n no doubt
the ship would fly back to its homeworld.
This was one train Hays didn’t wanna be on when it left the
station . . .
He hitched back up his drawers—not easy on account’a the
hard-on he still had—then stumbled back toward the middle’a the
ship where he’d appeared. A white beam’a light glowed there, but it
were startin’ ta get real dim real fast.
Hays jumped in—
—and landed assfirst in the middle’a the field behind Doc
Willis’ house.
Thank Gawd! I’se still alive! And—
He grabbed his pantscrotch.
—and still hard!

So the evil alien bitch was deprived of her usual rasher’a human
sperm, and so was her home world—Hays neglected ta reveal that
he’d plumb up’n fucked her ta DEATH and busted her box ta boot—
so who knew what’d happen? Would the alien race die? Would they
hang on till the next apergee’n come back fer more joyjuice? (and not that gall dern polyjuice potion, by gawd!)

No big deal.
And as far as all’a them boys from the Watch-House and all’a
them old VFW tuckers—them State Health Department buses
weren’t State Health Department buses at all but instead they were
F.B.I. buses with phony markings!—and it was a federal medercal
facility they’d all been took to, and soon enough they’se all woked
up’n were just fine, and even better was they didn’t remember a
dang thing, not one of ‘em! (A’corse, considerin’how much nut Mrs.
Willis had sucked out’a all their peters, it’d problee be a while ‘fore
any of ‘em shot a good load). Case closed, on to the next. So then
Special Agent Majora thanked ‘em both’n left, wishin’ ‘em well.
After which Hays elucidated, “Shee-it, Chief, no one’d believe
us but we shore’s hail know its true. Fuckin’ aliens in league with a
former scientist’s wife in a evil plot to steal human spunk, and carryin’
it away in 2-liter Coke bottles? Asassy chick FBI agent masqueradin’
as a Army officer? Special alien drugs that make guys able to shoot
dozens’a load in a hour? It’s the most fucked up thing I ever heard,
so fucked up it’s downright perposterous! Sounds like one’a them
weirdo science fiction stories only, like, a really
bad
one, like maybe
the author didn’t know what the fuck he was writin’ about but he
wrote it anyway. Anyhows, Chief, I’m outa here, I gots me another
date with Jinny Jo, and lemme tell ya—” Hays grinned and grabbed
his crotch—“my pole is hard as gnarled oak! I got me some meat to put in
her
pantry, fer shore! I’se gonna go on over there, treat her like
dogshit, fuck her, wipe my dick off in her hair, then get the fuck out
and go have a few beers with the boys. Later, Chief!”

Kinion looked up from his coffee. “Hays, wait a sec. Did you
just say you hadda date with
Jinny Jo?
”
“That’s a fact, boss.”
The Chief rubbed his eyes. “Well, hail, ain’t that the gal ya tolt
me about this mornin’ who hadda, well, you know—”
“Who hadda pussy fulla gonococcal pus? Yes sir, that’s the same
fuck-pig, Chief. Only I knows better now, so’s I ain’t gonna go down
on her, no sir! I’d rather lick the bottom of a sewer grate. N’stead,
I’ll’se just hold my nose’n put a double rubber on my dick’n just bust
her hole like it needs ta be busted, yes sir! And I guarentee it, Chief,
she’ll thank me fer it afterward.”
Kinion waved an errant hand. He didn’t even want ta think about
it. “Fine, Hays. Goes have yerself a good time.”
Hays turned to do just that but he stopped short’a the station
house doors, and he slapped his thigh hard. “Dang, Chief, I’se awful
sorry!”
Kinion’s hooded eyes flicked up without much interest. “Yore
sorry ‘bout what?”
“I never
did
git ta tell ya why they called Martha the Tail.”
The Chief let out a long, exasperated sigh. “Hays, I don’t wanna
know—”
“Aw, no, Chief, I couldn’t do that to ya. A fella cain’t be tellin’ a
story only ta leave off the end! That wouldn’t be
proper.
”
“Hays,” the Chief stated sternly, “I don’t wanna hear.”
“Aw, come on, Chief, I’se mean I tolt ya the part ‘bout how I
was fuckin’that old whore’s pussy’n her pussy turnt out ta be fulla all
these vagernul polyps’re some shit, and whatever the hail they was, it
felt like I had my boner stuck in a bag’a chicken gizzards, and then I
tolt how after I creamed all over them polyps, she begged me ta fuck
her ass, so’s I did that too, boss, and put a
big
load up there too, but that weren’t all, remember? Afters that she asked me ta pee up her
tired ass and, hail, I still had ‘bout ten beers in me just cryin’ta git out,
so’s shore, I’se fulfilled her third request’n pulled a giant beer-piss
right up her poop-chute, I did, and then—”