Super Science & Fast Romance

"If you take the vulnerability out of a relationship, there's no relationship left."

- Megacles

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1 Hour Later

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Doc-Danger had to sign off and work, so I have a few hours to myself. I pass a s.e.x shop, and decide to pop in for supplies.

I spend over an hour comparing b.u.t.t toys. I have no idea what I'm looking for. I want to blow Doc-Danger's mind with epic sleaze, but this shit looks dangerous.

I've seen some of these whoppers used in p.o.r.n, but those chicks are athletes. Probably on a.s.s enhancing drugs or something. I haven't had anything bigger than my finger up my b.u.t.t in years. I don't want my performance to end up in a coroner's report.

F.u.c.k it, I grab the smallest b.u.t.t plug they have. It's a start. I'll work up to raunchy. For now I'll try for cute and willing.

As I approach the cash, I start to get self conscious about my itty bitty b.u.t.t plug. Beside the cash are a couple foot long dildos, thick as my wrist. In the impulse buy section. Like, you think you have everything you need, then you see a massive phallus, and remember you have to club a seal on the way home. Who the f.u.c.k impulsively buys a 5 pound d.i.c.k? F.u.c.k it, I'm going to.

Now I'm buying a huge d.i.c.k to feel less self conscious. Clearly, I'm mixed up. That said, I have conclusively seized control of this commercial transaction. I want to slam my d.i.c.k on the counter and yell "I AM MEGACLES!!" but the cashier deserves a safe work environment. So, I just give it a few practice swings and toss it next to the itty bitty b.u.t.t plug. Obviously, the big d.i.c.k is for me. Did you see the practice swings? I can handle it. I'm just buying the b.u.t.t plug for my cat. She's very active socially.

I pay, refuse a bag because I'm environmentally conscious pervert, and walk out to a busy street holding my giant p.e.n.i.s. Shit, now no one has a safe environment. I look like a fan-fic Artemis Entreri. I shove it in my inside coat pocket. It leaves a noticeable bulge. Hopefully, people will assume it's just a gun. Now I need a drink.

The closest bar is a strip club, because of course it is. Why not? Let's see some n.a.k.e.d ladies.

There's a woman loitering by the door. She stops me. "They don't let single girls in. Makes the strippers nervous."

I discreetly adjust my d.i.c.k. Makes sense I guess. Some girls are weird.

I'm about to carry on, but she stops me again. "We can go in together." Huh. Is this a third date for tonight? Well, why not? I'm single.

I expect some questions from the bouncer, but he couldn't be more bored. I notice my date's jacket has a bulge as well. Well hell, I'm gonna get lucky. Hopefully, her d.i.c.k is smaller than mine.

She's attractive, about my age, focused on the stage. The woman on stage is young-ish and clearly has been to the gym this year. There's a couple of middle aged men laughing and drinking up front, and a short cook with crazy wide shoulders refilling the buffet.

I'm about to offer my date a drink, when she pulls out a gun and aims at the stage. Crap. I pull out my d.i.c.k and slam it down on her wrists. 12 inches of rubber wood slap the gun free. It hits the ground and fires.

Holy f.u.c.k, I'm deaf. She's staring at me, shocked. Really, bitch? You're shocked? She stoops to get the gun, but backs off when I brandish my d.i.c.k at her. I've never used a dildo in anger before. I don't like it.

Chef Shoulders is hustling up behind her, but she doesn't notice. Must be as deaf as I am. She stoops for the gun again, and he just pushes her over and sits on her back. She struggles to reach the gun, but it's a sad effort. Shoulders is a solid dude. The lovely stripper darts in and grabs the gun. She holds it like it's a dead cat. One of the drinkers takes it from her and tucks it in his waistband.

"Uhh, I think we should give that to the police." I say.

"I am the police." He says.

"Oh, good." I say.

"Anyway, it's my gun. And that's my wife." He says.

"Oh, shit." I say.