The Endless
Cycle of Self-Fellatio
by Andy Adams
The hole was just to the right
of an old fire extinguisher, to the left of a giant water stain on the ancient wall. In a
world full of buildings full of walls, there are many holes; billions, even trillions of
holes. But this was the one; the legendary hole of sex-crazed lore, spoke of at countless
teenage gatherings since as long as anyone could remember.
Morrisey didn't know when he'd first heard of the hole, but he had always been fascinated
by it; he prayed endlessly for its existence, and searched for it whenever he could. If
the legends were true, it was to be found in the exact city where Morrisey lived. He
thanked the Gods for this blessing, but cursed them for not allowing the exact details of
the building to be more generally discussed.
And so it was that Morrisey's early years were not much more than a never-ending search of
dozens of deserted buildings. He checked every square inch of every wall of every building
he saw, searching for that fabled hole of sexual wonder.
The hole came into Morrisey's life just a week before he was to turn sixteen. It was in a
wrecked and ravaged building on Border Street, surrounded by rubble and decaying flowers.
There were no other buildings around, save for one blackened structure off in the
distance. Morrisey walked to the second floor by way of the stairs on the left side of the
building. He thought he heard footsteps going down the other staircase, but wrote it off
to his imagination. He was searching one of the walls when he saw a hole that looked to be
about the right size. Without much enthusiasm, he began the process of checking the hole,
something he had done innumerable times already.
He undid his pants and dropped them to the ground, then listlessly crammed his limp cock
through the hole. Almost immediately, and to Morrisey's surprise, a pair of lips wrapped
around it. And almost as soon as it happened, it was over; for the sensation itself
combined with the sheer joy of the discovery caused him to come just seconds after his
bent cock straightened out.
The mouth withdrew, and so did Morrisey. He ran from the building; joy and shame were now
at war within him, and would stay at war for a good deal of time. But in the end, it was
joy that won, as was usual for Morrisey. The burned out building soon became a regular
stop for him; he would visit it on the way to school, and sometimes on the way home. He
did not know for sure whether the mouth that pleasured him belonged to a man or a woman;
but it felt smooth and supple - almost childlike - so he assumed it was a woman's.
As the years rolled by, Morrisey became reckless with the whole situation; he was never
very careful to begin with, but at least in the early years he would have noticed the
sound of footfalls on the rust eaten staircase leading up to where he was.
Tall and lanky were the men who came upon Morrisey just as he was reaching his climax.
Sickly looking, as well. Their color was pale, and their posture was bent and twisted;
sunken faces and bony fingers; hollow eyes and dead expressions; warped beings
masquerading as humans.
If it had just been one normal looking man who had walked in on him, Morrisey would have
been embarrassed, but not mortally frightened like he was at that moment. He tried to run,
but his pants were still bundled about his ankles, and he fell to the filthy floor.
The men were on him at once; grabbing him, lifting him, carrying him off with a pearl of
come still dangling off the tip of his dick. He was carried down the stairs and out the
building, skeletal fingers wrapped around his limbs and spread under his back. Across the
landscape strewn with decay they carried him, towards the blackened husk of the building
off in the distance; the one that had stood watching as Morrisey had gone in and out of
the building with the hole hundreds of times.
He had noted the towering structure upon his first visit here, and had of course seen it
many times since. But he had never done more than casually wonder what it was, and he
never spent much time on his wondering. It was now a certainty in his mind that the
building was something far more sinister than anything he would have ever guessed.
Across the cracked and diseased land he was carried, toward his fate. Above the heads of
the demon beings he was held as they traveled to where he would be delivered to his doom.
Morrisey looked at the gray sky above him. A single worm-like finger tore a small hole
into the back of his head, and slid in through his skull to touch his brain. The pain was
unspeakable; the world swam and bled fluorescent shades of darkness. Morrsiey fainted;
falling away from the terrible reality into which he had been thrust.
--------
Terrible consciousness crept
back in, and Morrisey opened his eyes, expecting to be in some black room of that dreadful
building. What he saw instead was the night sky, dusted with stars and holding a fat moon.
Still the strange men plodded on with him raised above their shoulders; and again a finger
slid through the newly created hole in the back of his head. This time there was no pain,
yet Morrisey left the world anyway.
--------
Awake again, and this time it
is day. Morrisey looks around; they are no closer to the building then they were the first
time he had drifted away. Yet the building where he had indulged in his dirty ritual for
years was somehow farther behind them, so that they appeared to be at a midpoint between
the two structures.
How, Morrisey wondered, could they have been walking so long and not have gotten any
closer? Morrisey prayed for the finger to once again be his sedative - to tear him from
this unreality - but no finger came.
The day moved on in agony, the building moving no closer. Night was the same. The next day
the beasts began running rather than walking, and the landscape around them finally
changed. The small piles of rubble were replaced by big ones, and the carcasses of strange
animals began dotting the ground. The distance to the building remained the same though,
and the day turned to night, and the night to day. The number of corpses increased; the
sky began to turn red; rivers of blood twisted through the land.
They were now in a nightmare world, and Morrisey had not slept since the last time the
finger poked his brain. He was now quite certain that he would never again experience the
sweet balm of sleep.
--------
Day. Night. Day. Night. It
seemed as though it had been years that they had been running. Headless pterodactyls
fluttered on tattered wings in the red sky. The sun grew. Boulders exploded. Twisted trees
cried flaming tears. And Morrisey never slept, nor did they come any closer to the
building.
--------
A billion years in the
nightmare world, never coming closer to the final destination. Morrisey had been stark
raving mad for centuries, and at last came the undoing of all he'd seen.
The sun exploded in a brilliant shower of Earth-sized fireballs; then came back together,
and began winding back down to original size. Dead vegetation ran backwards through decay,
and returned to the womb of the Earth. The beasts holding Morrisey began running
backwards. His madness, and the madness around him, began to thin. He glanced at the
building, and at long last it appeared to be drawing closer.
--------
The building, as it turned
out, was the exact same one they had left so long ago. The creatures carried Morrisey into
it backwards, then gave him his first taste of sleep in a billion years.
--------
Morrisey awoke on the ground
of a small room, surrounded by the strange men. He prayed they were finished with him, but
they were not. He was pushed up to the wall, and made to face it. There was a small hole
directly in front of his mouth. His skin was peeled from the back of his head and stapled
to the wall; he could not move his mouth from the hole. Wires were inserted into his
brain, then the strange beings exited the room.
Morrisey heard their footsteps going down the stairs to his right, just as someone else
was coming up the stairs to his left. Not long after, a limp dick was shoved through the
hole where his mouth waited. The wires leading into his brain sent electrical impulses to
his mouth muscles, causing his lips to close around the soft cock, and his tongue to start
flopping up against it. It hardened and shot warm semen into Morrisey's mouth. His
manipulated muscles made him swallow, then pull away. The dick withdrew and whoever it was
ran away.
No one came again for quite some time, and then there was a dick through the hole almost
every morning; sometimes in the afternoon, too. Morrisey soon realized that it was the
same one everytime, and - by familiar bumps and other features - soon realized that it was
his own.
©2002 Andy Adams |