Stuffies

A “quickie” is a fragment of story that doesn’t quite fit anywhere else. But if you read them, you’ll find that they might illuminate a few points of the larger story.

* * *

A constant source of marvels to any of his lovers or acquaintances was Mr. Six’s seeming inexhaustible libido. Sometimes, when they had nothing better to do, they would sit and mythologize about it, as if Mr. Six were a movie star or a historical figure and not someone they shared their bed and house with—adding to it, speculating, embroidering truths. it was true, however, that once at a dinner party the topic of the very strangest things to get off to came up…and Rufus found himself blushing as Mister Six had begun to slowly, subtly…then not so subtilely, to lead up to that time in the garrett when he had forced Rufus to drink six bottle of—

“Is there anything you don’t get off of?” Rufus cut in, so abruptly that people laughed.

It took the table a moment before they realized Mr. Six had actually taken the question seriously. The silence lengthened.

“Chewing gum,” said Mr. Six at last. “the noise it makes. And I hate the flavor.”

* * *

“He gets off from watching The Thing—”

Rihanna had yet to see the movie.

“There’s this bit in it where a doctor is giving this guy a shock treatment and the guy’s stomach caves in and grows teeth and bites off his hands…”

Rihanna’s eyes widened. “He gets off from that?”

Rufus had been laying with him on the sofa in the half-dark, as usual. “And I have my head in his lap, right? And all the sudden I realize he’s popped a stiffy!”

Rihanna laughed at the phrase he used and immediately regretted it when she saw how distraught Rufus looked. “Maybe it was just you…”, she tried to soothe him, thinking that the weight off Rufus’ head on her mound, all that silky hair, would be enough to get anyone off.

“He wasn’t even looking at me! You know how he gets, right? The Look…”

Rufus had been shutting his eyes. He himself was “sensitive”, with a private list of movie scenes he could hardly bare to look at—everything from Violet Beureguard in Willy Wonka to the last thirty minutes of Akira—when he’d noticed Mr. Six’s growing “problem”.

“And I said, are you getting off? And he said, ‘His stomach caves in,’ very simply, like if there’s a tummy in it he just “has” to get off! But there’s this other bit, where the head kind of oozes off the table—”

“Stop!” said Rihanna, laughing and putting her hands over her ears.

“—and he’s still hard! I mean, I’m a pervert too, but I’m not perverted like that!”

Rihanna began to laugh again, this time at Rufus’ mix of awestruck and indignant.

“I’ve just never thought of what the inside of his mind is like—tentacle porn and medical texts and The Cell and all that vore by mamabliss… it’s all gotten mixed up in his head until I just can’t imagine what he’s envisioning when we’re having sex. How can real life sex be enough for him, anyway… sometimes I think he’s lost all sense of boundaries when it comes to fantasy…”

“Maybe he likes the idea of kissing your lips when the rest of you is someplace else. Maybe he likes the idea of your morphing into a lot of tentacles to pull him closer, or splitting down the middle so he can get his whole body inside you. Isn’t there that scene in Alien where he puts his tail up her ass?”

Rufus just shook his head.