Showing posts with label naked. Show all posts
Showing posts with label naked. Show all posts

Friday, February 25, 2011

TIME DOUCHE CH. 5 - Caught With Your Hand In Your Pants



TIME DOUCHE CH.5 - CAUGHT WITH YOUR HAND IN YOUR PANTS
By Tomara Armstrong

“Okay.” You look around. How is it that you find yourself in a situation once again? Big French guys have busted in on your chance to score with a royal hottie in hiding, and you’re not supposed to be upset? You’re either incredibly unlucky or someone has had it out for you from the beginning—some sick, sick sadist is controlling your fate. Regardless, you’ve had enough.

“Dude, do I look like I know what’s going on here?” The brutes glance at each other and eye you up and down. They seem to have come to the general understanding that you are not French. “Look, I’m a guest of Napoleon. Yeah, I helped him out earlier, maybe saved his life and stuff, but I don’t have any idea what all of this is about. Who’s Marie Therese?” You shrug and shoot a wink at the girl. “And what’s with the entrance? Aren’t you on the same side? And you just come busting thru the door? If I was Napoleon, I’d be pissed.”

“Uh… um…” both men shift their weight, looking nervous.

“I know your type, throwing shit around, trying to be all tough. Napoleon’s in the other room; dude’s gonna come unglued when he sees you’re tearing shit up.”

You’re loving every second of making these men sweat. In all probability, they could stomp you into a pulsing mass of goo on the floor. “You know what? Let’s get Napoleon in here,” you smile, but notice that Marie looks nervous. “Strike that. Why don’t you two dipshits go and find him?”

The two share a look, shrug, and sulk out of the room.

You’ve got a goofy grin on your face, replaying the moment in your head: tough talk, ninja moves, and naked girl slathered in chocolate.

Slap.
You barely have time to cover the stinging handprint on your face when Marie grabs the front of your shirt. “Why did you do that? Are you out of your mind?”

She’s not really pissed—she totally digs you. Naked girl… chocolate…mmm.

“Why are you smiling like that?”

Shaking your head, you grab Marie’s hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

She doesn’t resist. You’re feeling pretty confident as you head out into the night with Marie in tow. You just stole a girl from Napoleon Bonaparte. How cool is that? Of course, he would probably kill her if he knew who she really was, but still, pretty cool.

You’re overly zealous, jumping logs and lifting Marie over brush and puddles of mud. You’re pretty sure you’re getting close when she collapses to the ground in tears.

“Oh man.” Leave it to a woman to lose her cool at the worst possible time. You try to comfort her, but what started as a few tears has now turned into a full blown boo-hoo with accompanying snot bubbles. “Shush now,” you pat her on the back. “It’ll be okay.” She tries to speak but you can’t make out any of it. You glance around trying to determine how close you are to the time machine. “We’re close.”

“Close to what?” Finally the girl is making sense again.

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe,” you say as you heave her into a secure piggy back. She wipes her nose on your shirt and kisses the side of your neck softly. Does this make her my girlfriend? You smile and trudge on toward the machine.

You see the machine in the distance, slide Marie onto her feet, and hurry toward it. “What is that?” she asks.

“Never mind what it is, Marie, we need to get in it and get out of here.” You start pacing in front the machine trying to think what to do. “Damn it, Thomas. You’re being quiet.”

You reach in your pants, and look at Marie in shock. She blushes.

“Oh no,” you panic, running around the perimeter. “Where is it? Where is it?”

“Where is what?”

“Oh god… I didn’t lose it, did I?"

“Is this what you’re looking for?” Napoleon steps from the brush holding the communicator in his hand. He looks pissed and your hands are still in your pants.

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

THE SEASON 2.5 TRAILER!

Season 2.5 starts next week!

That's right, we're jumping right into this one.

Want a quick glimpse of what to expect? Check out the trailer!

Friday, November 12, 2010

WELCOME TO HELLYWOOD CH.2 - SECOND PROCEDURE



WELCOME TO HELLYWOOD CH.2 - SECOND PROCEDURE
By Ryan O'Neil

You call the receptionist and make an appointment for the second procedure - a full body lift.
“You’re in luck! We have an opening this Tuesday at 10am,” the receptionist tells you. Her voice, nasal and piercing, reeked of pure Staten Island diva attitude. She asked, no, demanded, that you arrive promptly and refrain from eating 24 hours prior to the procedure.

“I thought it was eight hours prior to surgery?” You question. “24 hours seems kind of dramatic if you ask me,” you say with a chuckle.

“Look Sugar, rules are rules, mmmkay? We’ll see you Tuesday at 10 sharp. Buh-bye now.”

CLICK

You stand motionless with your iPhone still held firmly to your ear listening to silence. I did it, you think to yourself. I fuckin’ did it!

A wave of fear crashes against you, making you almost puke where you are standing, but the thought of being an A-lister again soothes your worries and calms your fears.

That night you sit naked once again on your bed in front of the mirror that you dragged in from the changing room. You gaze at your current topology and know that in a few short days your stomach will be flat and youthful once again.

You swing around and slap your ass. “Bamm! Good bye!” you say.

All of this excitement and posing is making you hungry. Naked, you slip down the back stairs and into the kitchen to make a sandwich. While slathering a piece of whole wheat bread with a thick layer of honey mustard a thought hits you: refrain from eating 24 hours prior to the procedure. You recoil as the voice of the Staten Island receptionista echoes through your head. 24 hours…24hours…24 hours…

Quickly you open the nearest cupboard and fish out the first thing that touches your fingertips. As luck would have it you pull forth a can of vanilla frosting. You tear open the lid and stick your tongue into the sugary white goodness. It tastes like Heaven in a can. You grab an ice cream scooper and begin to shovel the creamy sweetness into your mouth. Soon the scooper isn’t enough and you plunge your entire hand into the can. You scrape the contents up and fill your mouth.

The next few hours are spent sampling every morsel of food that you have in the house. From pickled pig’s feet to an entire log of pimento loaf, nothing is safe from your ravenous desire to eat the world.

Your hands covered in sauce and frosting, you reach for your iPhone and begin to dial. “Yes, can I get a meat lover's pizza and a meat lover's pizza with extra meat delivered?” You hang up and launch your phone into the air. It lands with a plop into a pot of something that once resembled butterscotch pudding, but now looks more like something a flunky from Hell’s Kitchen cooked up.

You cannot wait another thirty minutes for the pizzas to be delivered. You must eat, and eat you must. You have gone mad. Your brain is toast. Mmmmmmm toast. You run screaming through the house pulling your hair out in chucks. Mmmmmmmm alfalfa sprouts! You shove a handful of hair into your mouth and begin to chew. You fall onto the couch face first laughing like a lunatic. You rip open the couch cushions and begin to eat the fiberfill innards. Tastes like chicken! You work your way outside where you launch yourself onto the front lawn. While attempting to eat a sprinkler head (Mmmmmmm, cherry slushy) the system goes off and fills your insides with gallons of water. It is here that the pizza delivery boy finds you 22 minutes later: dead, naked and bloated, with water shooting from your backside like some sort of freakish water fountain that could only be found in Ron Jeremy’s private meditation garden. The pizza boy drops the steaming boxes and grabs his cell phone. This has GOT to be worth something, he thinks to himself as he records the scene that will eventually get 28 million hits on TMZ and YouTube.

Congratulations! You’re famous once again!

THE END