Lion at the watering hole.
Eric Allard explaining to Scott Gairdner how the cat-piloted Chewbacca robot is going to work. (at Warner Bros. Studios)
Once again I got to read at the great Competitive Erotic Fan Fiction show at Meltdown, and here’s what:
COMPETITIVE EROTIC FAN FICTION
Toby the terrier mix heard a human voice say “Wah wah wah wah WAH wah wah wah Toby!” as he was lifted by the nape of his neck and placed in the middle of a small, cartoony replica of a football field. He looked around excitedly, his glistening little lipstick shlong wagging like a sideways metronome. A dozen other puppies of various breeds clambered over and chased each other among scattered plush toys in a frolicsome maelstrom, and the astro-turf smelled like plastic and shit. From deep within Toby’s ancestral wolf soul an overwhelming feeling reverberated, a feeling that set Toby’s haunches jerking rhythmically like a mechanical stapler. Toby was too young to know that what he was feeling was horniness. All he knew is that he saw a bunch of dog butts that he wanted to treat like human ankles, and a bunch of stuffed animals that he wanted to treat like dog butts. In that primal split-second, if Toby could’ve understood his own thoughts, and those thoughts were translated into English, his mind would be echoing with five stentorian words: “Let’s. Get. Our. Hump. On.”
Toby’s nose shuddered with the excitement of vast inhalation as he processed the odors around him. Poodle with a vagina and butt. Golden Retriever with a dick and butt. Beagle with a dick and butt. Cocker Spaniel with a vagina and butt. Dick and butt. Vagina and butt. Dick and butt. Dick and butt. Vagina and butt. Vagina and butt. Vagina. Vagina. Dick. Butt. Butt. Butt. Butt. Butt. As the radius of smell grew wider and weaker he could only detect the butts. “I can work with this,” his tiny brain thought in words Toby couldn’t process. And he was off!
First up, a feisty little Yorkshire Terrier who was panting quietly among the chaos. “Hey Yorkie, time to porky,” thought Toby (again, were he to have human thoughts and those thoughts were translatable into English). Before she knew what hit her, he hit it. “Huh huh huh huh HUH!” And he didn’t quit it until the thing between his legs had jettisoned its mayonnaise packet of pleasure into her tiny sandwich of also pleasure. BLAM! Toby dismounted as the little bitch shivered with confused ecstasy. “Five. Five dollar. Five dollar inch looooong!” thought Toby in primitive canine terms, and again, were those thoughts possibly translated into English, said Subway jingle would be the best approximation of those thoughts. For our purposes. Here. Tonight.
Toby lept forward, and in a single bound was on top of a little Shih Tzu whom neither him nor herself knew was named Eowyn, after the character from ‘Lord of the Rings’ who’d never been fucked by a terrier mix. During that split-second leap, his glistening Chapstick had recharged completely, and was ready to discharge another dollop of mutt-making juice into wherever it was thrusted. Unlike that stupid Yorky, this Shih Tzu was an old pro. “Do me doggystyle!” she yipped. “Oh no,” Toby growled mischievously, “I’m gonna do you puppystyle.” With a “huh huh” here and a “huh HUH huh” there, Toby knew that Eowyn wouldn’t Shih Tzu right for a week. That’s right, this time, he buried his bone in the dirt. That aforementioned mutt-making juice wouldn’t be making any mutts, just mud. Mud the consistency of a Cadbury Crème Egg that had been chewed twice and spit out.
Toby hadn’t yet developed object permanence, so when he suddenly noticed his now shit-covered popsicle, or poopsicle, he slurped at it for a good long while in surprise and delight, until his pink swizzle stick was once again ready to compete in America’s favorite reality show: “So You Think You’re A Puppy Who’s Got A Dick And You Wanna Hump All Sortsa Shit Yeah HA HA HA Do It, You Fuckin’ Hump Machine, Do It!”, starring Simon Cowell, Shaquille O’Neal, Sinead O’Connor, Donald Rumsfeld, and Sting, tonight on Fox, which is also a type of canine LOL! Side note, the author of this piece was now quite drunk as he was writing this.
Toby looked up, mid-dick-lick, and spotted another dick. This one dangled from a boy Boxer’s crotch, and looked like a red Sharpie that had been rolled in lint. Toby didn’t know what bi-sexuality was, but he knew he was gonna “SNAP INTO THAT SLIM JIM!” Toby paused to reflect on the fact that he’d just made a reference to a human commercial for a human snack food, even though he didn’t understand human speak, much less his own thoughts. Fascinating. Toby shook his floppy head and composed himself. “Fuck it, today I’m not a canine, I’m a K-69”, he thought, without knowing what any of those words meant. And zoom! Toby was on that Boxer’s dick like white on rice, specifically, like whatever white dude or chick was currently boning Condaleeza Rice, whoever she was, and whatever boning was. Toby was a dog.
Toby and the Boxer gnawed appreciatively on each other’s fun-sized Twizzlers for what seemed like an eternity but was actually 17 seconds, until both of them erased an invisible grammar mistake on the other’s snout with doggie liquid paper. Spoot! They slinked away from each other with guilty expressions on their dopey puppy faces, both secretly thrilled.
No sooner had Toby expelled millions of microscopic students from weiner school for being too creamy did he spy a coy collie whom, unbeknownst to either of them, was named Rebecca Romjin-Stamos, whoever that was, and purely coincidentally, just like the human for which she was named, was a HUGE fan of getting double-penetrated during group sex, “trust me”, writes the super drunk author, “an acting coach told me this information in confidence once, and clearly I am not honoring that confidence at all!”
Toby sidled up to the coy collie.
“Do you like to play fetch? Then fetch my balls,” he yapped. Toby hadn’t been neutered yet.
She sniffed a nearby plush toy shaped like a raccoon and looked away.
Toby re-loaded his charm cannon and fired again: “Have you had all of your vaccinations? Because it’s time to vaccinate you against NOT having my cock in you.” Toby reflected on how awesome this pick-up line was, even though he didn’t know English or what words or thoughts were.
Again, the coy collie merely sniffed at a plush carrot-shaped toy with feigned indifference.
Toby regarded the collie as she sniffed the toy, and suddenly realized that this was the first time he’d bothered asking the boner recipient whether or not they’d wanted to receive the boner. So he fucked her. The vaccination against Toby’s cock not being in her was effective immediately, as Toby’s cock was definitely not not in her. He wasn’t sure if it was her vagina or her butt hole that he was swizzling with his stick, or what either of those two things were, or what his penis was, but deep down he knew that his vaccination joke had been clever. Anyway, he fucked her so good that if he could think in English (which we’ve already established he can’t) his thoughts would’ve been “ha ha HA yeah I humped her so super great she gonna give birth to a litter of dicks!”
Toby’s pheromonal hump cloud had now wafted through the entire mini-stadium, and The Puppy Bowl was now a fuck frenzy, unbeknownst to the human viewers at home, thanks to the incredible skills of the show’s unsung editors, or “hump removers” as they were called by their appreciative executive producers.
Meanwhile, amid the puppy orgy, a male parrot dressed as a referee who’d been watching all of the puppy-porking turned to camera, gestured one wing towards a female parrot also dressed as a referee, and said “Polly wanna crack: her’s!” Then he bobbed his head with amusement at his own double entendre, even though he didn’t understand the words he was speaking.
Soon, the puppies were all exhausted, and many had collapsed into napping on and among the stuffed toys. A peaceful post-hump haze hung in the air, and the green astroturf was sticky with puppy batter. In moments, America would collectively begin changing the channel back to the Super Bowl, but as a groggy Toby was gathered into the arms of a human animal handler, he knew that he had won the Puppy Bowl.
EPILOGUE the year was 2022, and President Gaga was leaning over Toby the C.I.A. espionage dog with a broad smile on her face. “This medal is for you, little guy, for saving Earth from resurrected Robo-Bin Laden. Without your amazing humping prowess, we would all be dead.” Toby panted with appreciation, but deep down he knew, this was just the second most coolest day of his life.