The other day, I woke up, opened my computer...and didn't feel like writing. Because I'm Flagg1991 and have no life, I panicked. What the fuck else am I going to do with my time? Knit? Grow a spice garden? I can't not write, so I wrote this as a joke - it served to warm me up so I could go onto writing something serious, so I count it as a win. Again, it's a joke, don't take it seriously.
The second half, where I, Abby, and some of our friends beat the shit out of CopperBob was added this morning because I was annoyed.
PS: This is a work of fiction, any resemblance between characters and real people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Except for me, AbberantScript, Rag, E, Zer, and Kenny Rogers.
Flagg1991, clad in tight fitting jeans, a leather jacket, and big Aviator sunglasses, swaggered up the walkway leading to the front porch of 1216 Franklin Avenue, a large two story house with grimy white siding and a roof from which shingles peeled like dead skin. The lawn was overgrown and littered with toys and trash, and a busted up van that looked like it died twenty years ago sat in the oil stained driveway. "What a dump," Flagg commented with a sneer of disgust as he climbed the creaking steps. He was new to Royal Woods, a tall man with ruggedly handsome features; he wore his sandy blonde hair in a fifties-style pompadour and packed powerful muscles splotched with cool tattoos. If you lifted his T-shirt, you'd find the sexist six-pack this side of a Mr. Universe contest, and if you pulled down the front of his pants, the size and girth of his penis would shock you.
Today, he was on an important mission: Before he moved into the neighborhood, each one of his neighbors got a pink slip in the mail headed A SEX OFFENDER IS COMING TO TOWN. It went on to say A cat named Flagg1991 who's done pedo stuff in the past is moving into 1428 Franklin. Beware, y'all. What it didn't say was that the 'pedo stuff' was him dating a seventeen-year-old girl when he was fucking nineteen. That's pedo stuff? Really? The fuck kinda world is this?
Anyway, since that little letter made him sound like a fucing kiddie diddler, he took it upon himself to go door to door and introduce himself - Hey, I'm Flagg, you probably got a letter about me - yeah, this is what really happened...ya kids are safe. Promise. Most of the people on the block were cool; a few, however, called him hurtful names and slammed their doors in his face. You were 368 days older than her? Pervert! Be gone! Better than that town in Ohio; they chased him all the way to the train station with torches and pitchforks like he was Frankenstein or some shit.
At the door, Flagg jerked the cigarette from his mouth and blew a puff of smoke. He knocked and waited; a warm breeze slipped through the tines of a windchime and sent them tinkling. Maybe he should get a windchime, ya know, liven his own porch up a little. As it stood, the only things out there were a plastic chair, a table, and a transistor radio that he listened to while he smoked - he kept it tuned to WKBBL, Solid Gold Oldies.
Yeah, he liked oldies. And disco too. Got something to say?
He took a drag and knocked again. After a moment, the sound of of muffled footfalls approached, and the door opened.
No one was there.
What the fuck?
"Uh...down here."
Flagg flicked his eyes down: A little blonde girl in a pink dress, a tiara perched just so on her head, stared up at him. She wore long pink gloves that reached her elbows and some kind of sash or something. Heh. Must have interrupted someone's tea party. Whoops. "Hi, is your mommy or daddy here?" he asked.
"No," she replied, "they're on a date."
Flagg's brow furrowed. "It's four o'clock on a Tuesday afternoon."
She shrugged.
Whatever.
"Alright, I guess I'll come back." He started to turn, but she stopped him.
"What do you want?"
Flagg took a puff of his cigarette and blew it out. "I gotta talk -"
She tilted forward and squinted, then gasped. "You're the pedophile!"
Flagg's heart dropped. "No," he said quickly and put up his hands in a supplicating gesture, "no, I'm not really a pedo. That's why I'm here."
"Oh, I know why you're here, buddy," she said. She crossed her arms, cocked her hip, and regarded him the way a girl might a strange and repulsive bug. "You wanna diddle me and my sisters."
Flagg's nose crinkled. "Uh, no, I don't, I wanted to talk to your parents."
The girl lifted one brow in an expression of incredulity. "No, you didn't."
Oh, for Christ's sake; Flagg was twenty-seven and had been dealing with dumb shit like this for almost ten years. He was so fucking sick of it that if he was a more impulsive man he would have punted the little bitch across the house. "Whatever, kid, see ya."
Again, he started to go, and again, the girl stopped him. "Wait a second."
Flagg sighed. "What?"
She came out onto the porch…
...and dropped to her knees, her eyes locking with his.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Flagg asked.
An evil smile twisted her pink glossed lips. "I've always wanted to be with a grown man."
Flagg's jaw fucking dropped and a corrosive mix of shock, horror, and surreality washed through him like battery acid. For a moment he was frozen, his vocal cords locked. She lifted her hand and reached for his crotch, and he came alive, jumping back with a cry of disgust.
The little girl giggled. "Don't act like you don't want it."
"I don't!" Flagg cried.
"Yes you do," the girl purred and rocked forward on her knees. Her big brown eyes filled with sinful fire and the corners of her lips turned up in an evil smile. "But it's okay, I do too." She pawed at his groin and brushed her teeth across her bottom lip.
Flagg wasn't a fucking pedo, but his dick twitched nonetheless, and when she rubbed his bulge, her touch soft and fleeting, he shivered. The little girl's shark-like smile widened as she pulled down the tab of his zipper. "You do like it."
Well...not really, but, ya know, it had been a while.
She unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down; his dick sprang out like a battle sword held aloft; she went cross-eyed looking at it. "Whoa," she said, "that's the biggest I've ever seen."
"I call it the Flaggpole," Flagg said.
She hummed. "I call it yummy." She wrapped her gloved fingers around his shaft and brought it to her lips; her breath was hot and dank against his head and a shudder raced down his spine. Lust, like smoke, filled his brain, and his heart started to slam painfully.
Was he really about to let some little girl suck his cock? He'd made such noise about not being a pedo, but the moment a kid touched his peepee he was rock hard and ready to go.
Hot shame burned across the back of his neck...but the moment she molded her lips to his tip, he decided: He was a pedophile. Sue me, brah.
She stared up at him with those big eyes as she bobbed her head forward, his dick sinking into her warm, wet mouth with agonizing slowness, her cheeks beginning to bulge because he was that damn big.
His head poked the back of her throat, and she pulled back, her tongue lapping along his underside and her burning saliva coating his aching shaft. When she reached his summit, she surged forward again and started to knead his balls. Flagg threw his head back; his mouth was a hazy, cartoonish squiggle and his body shook.
"Lola!"
Flagg flopped his head down, and his stomach clutched. The doorway was filled with girls of every size, some blonde and others brunette.
And they looked pissed.
Lola spit him out and looked over her shoulder; drool and precum dribbled down her chin. "Uh, I'm busy," she said.
A blonde girl in a blue tank top put her hands on her hips and glared at Flagg. "I am literally shocked."
"This is totes wrong," said another blonde, this one with white sunglasses on her head.
Oh, shit, I'm fucked, Flagg thought.
"Yeah," a girl with short brown hair said. She had a paper clip or something in her ear (huh?). "You're totally bogarting the hot guy."
The others voiced their agreement, and Flagg blinked. So...I'm not going back to prison?
"It would blow if you didn't share," a girl in a skirt and braces said, and everyone groaned.
Flagg couldn't believe this shit. "So...you all want a ride on the Flaggpole?"
To a one, the girls nodded.
Wow. He took a quick headcount and frowned. There were nine. Nine fucking girls. "I'm gonna need some back up," he said. He whipped out his phone, dialed a number, and held it to his ear. "Abby," he said, "I have nine girls here, some of them lolis...and they wanna smash."
Literally two seconds later, a man ran up the walkway, his massive, muscle bound arms and legs pumping. He was nude save for a loin cloth, and his long, luscious brown hair streamed behind him like a proud battle flag. His skin was tan and sunkissed, and his pecs rippled with strength. "I'm here," he panted.
Flagg grinned at the girls. "This is my buddy Abby, and we're gonna rock your world."
Their jaws fell open.
"I am literally going fuck them both," Lori said.
"Ummm, two heads are better than one," Luan said.
Abby flashed a smile, revealing perfect teeth. "Let's do this, Flagg."
Inside, Flagg, naked from the waist down, bent Luan over the arm of the couch and pushed her skirt up around her hips. Abby sat on the couch, his gigantic dick standing tall and proud while Leni ran her fingertips up and down its length like a woman reverently stroking a magic talisman. Lori knelt on one side and Luna on the other, both of them rubbing his chest with shaking hands. They were both blushing furiously and drooling, their eyes hazed with lust.
Flagg hooked his thumbs into Luan's yellow panties and pulled them down her shapely legs; her girlhood was pink, moist, and plump with desire. "I'm so turned on I can't even think of a pun," she panted. When Flagg prodded her opening, she jerked forward with a gasp. Her heat was dizzying, and her essence smeared across his head like hot oil. "Do it!"
Gritting his teeth, Flagg thrusted into her bubbling depths. She cried out and bowed her head; her walls rippled around him and her muscles squeezed tightly. "Oh, fuck," she trembled, "oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh, fuck." Flagg drew back, then surged forward again.
On the couch, Abby shoved Leni back against the cushions and mounted her, his strong arms planting on either side. She smiled and spread her legs wide. "Like, be gentle, I'm a virgin."
"I will," Abby promised. He guided his tip to her moist opening and pushed slowly in; his head parted her body and sank a fraction of an inch in. She hissed and pressed her palms flat against his epic chest. "That okay?" Abby asked, soft concern in his voice.
Leni nodded.
Gripping the cushion, he thrusted and Leni moaned.
Across the room, Luan lay in a panting heap, her panties around her ankles and Flagg's creamy spunk oozing from her achy hole. Lynn sat on the arm of the couch with her legs spread and a cocky smile on her face. She was entirely naked save for white athletic socks. "Think you can shoot a goal in my hoop?" she asked.
Flagg grinned. "Pretty sure I can."
He put his dick against her slick entrance and thrusted. She sucked a sharp intake of breath through her teeth and wrapped her arms around his neck. "That kind of hurts," she said.
"It gets better," Flagg said, "trust me."
On the couch, Abby shot his molten load into Leni's depths and she trembled as her orgasm tore through her; she arched her back and took him right to the opening of her womb, a long, purring moan trembling from her lips. Abby planted delicate kisses on her neck as their bodies rocked in time.
"Faster," Lynn panted. Her legs were wrapped around Flagg's waist, her heels digging into his butt cheeks. He slammed into her, the meeting of their bodies producing a meaty slap. Her eyes crossed and her freckled face contorted. "I-I'm c-cumming!"
Her body clamped around him. Grunting, his dick swelled and exploded, hot, rich man juice filling her and dibbling out around his pumping shaft. Lynn shuddered and cried out; Flagg put his big, strong arms around her and held her close while she came, his lips pressed to her ear. "Let it all out," he panted.
Lori climbed into Abby's lap and splayed her hands on his shoulders; she smiled as she lowered herself to his throbbing head. "You are literally the hottest guy ever."
Abby cupped her cheek in his hand and grinned. "You're not too bad yourself."
She giggled and brushed her silky lips across the tip of his dick. "How does that feel?"
"So good."
She impaled herself and moaned. Abby put his hands on her hips and stroked them up her sleek flanks. She leaned forward and they kissed, their tongues licking, lapping, and swirling around each other with a wet squelch.
Across the room, Lola stood to her full height and worked Flagg's dick with her mouth. Lana stood next to her, eyes wide and lips smirking. When Flagg's climax hit, he yanked out, aimed his cock at Lana's face, and released, long, silvery ropes of cum splattering her lips, nose, and cheeks. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth; a spurt landed on her tongue and she swallowed, her eyes opening to narrow, lavacious slits. "Ummm...that stuff's gross. I love it."
Lori bounced up and down on Abby's lap, her head thrown back and one hand splayed on his knee. He slipped his hands under her tank top and cupped her breasts, his thumbs rubbing firm circles against her erect nipples. "God, you're so big!" she moaned.
Flagg sat Lola on the couch and knelt between her legs. "I'm gonna return the favor, okay?"
Biting her bottom lip, she nodded.
He slipped his hand up her dress, hooked his fingers into her panties, and pulled them down, the fabric scraping her creamy skin, making her tremble in anticipation. Past her knees, over her ankles; he balled them up and tossed them over his shoulder. She spread her legs, and Flagg grinned in appreciation of her pink sex. He laid his hands on either one of her legs, leaned forward, and basked in her sick, dank heat.
"I'm cumming!" Lori cried. Abby jerked his hips up, and she froze, her thin frame beginning to shake and a "Nngh" falling from her mouth.
Lola threw her head back and purred; Flagg's tongue danced slowly up between her folds, her salty essence filling his mouth. He found her clit, wrapped his lips around it, and suckled it like a kitten at its mama's breast. She theaded her fingers in her hair and hissed through her teeth. Her hips began to rock against Flagg's face. "That feels divine."
Next to them, Lucy faced away from Abby, pulled up her dress, and sat on his dick; her cheeks blushed and a tiny ghost of a smile touched her pale lips. She lifted up slowly, then settled; Abby squirmed like a broken bug, his arms wrapping around her stomach and holding her close.
Flagg flicked his tongue against Lola's clit and she trembled. "God..fuck me."
Obliging, Flagg slipped onto the couch and pressed his dick against her opening. She ran her hands over his chest, and when he sank himself into her mind-numbingly tight passage, her eyes rolled back in her head. He cupped her cheek in his hand and rutted deep, his girth spreading her body apart in painful ecstasy. She propped her feet on the edge of the couch and threaded her fingers through Flagg's, her hands squeezing, clutching against the painful pleasure.
Abby jerked his hips up and filled Lucy with his sperm; she moaned his name and threw her head back against the crook of his neck; he kissed her soft throat, his lips sucking the sweat from her skin and his teeth nibbling her crazily pounding pulse.
Lola was on her hands and knees now, looking at Flagg over her shoulder with smoldering eyes. He grabbed her hips and thrusted.
Lana knelt on the couch next to them and wiggled her bare butt. Abby, standing now, laid one hand in the small of her back and teased her leaking slit with his dick. "P-Put it in, Aberrant," she panted, "please"
Grinning, Abby threw his hips forward and penetrated her. She gasped, and clamped down on her bottom lip. Flagg and Abby looked at each other...then high fived. "Wanna switch?" Abby asked.
"Damn right I do," Flagg said. He pulled out of Lola and Abby took his place while he rammed into Lana. The girls held hands as Flagg and Abby fucked them, Lola cumming first, followed closely by her twin, who squealed and took off like a rocket. Flagg yanked out at the last minute and sprayed hot jizz across Lana's back, some of it shooting into her blonde hair and dampening the fabric of her baseball cap. Abby did likewise, painting the back of Lola's pink dress silvery white.
Flagg looked around; panting, exhausted girls littered the floor. "Who's next?"
"I am, bro."
He turned to find Luna on her hands and knees in front of him, a smirk on her face. He looked at Abby and lifted his brow. "Double team?"
Abby nodded. "Double team."
Luna grinned salaciously. "Double team."
Abby took up position behind her while Flagg stood in front. Abby gripped her hips and squeezed his dick into her tight, virgin hole; she jerked forward and took Flagg's dick in her mouth. Flagg thrusted, driving her back, then Abby thrusted, sending her back to Flagg. It was like Pong, only instead of a square, pixelated ball they were using a horny fifteen-year-old girl. Flagg dragged his fingernails over her scalp and Abby dug his into her fleshy hips. "You close, Ab?" Flagg asked.
"Yeah, pretty close."
Flagg grinned. "Let's fill her at the same time."
Abby nodded. "Alright."
Flagg stroked Luna's cheek. "We're gonna make your our little cum dumpster. You like the sound of that, sweetie?"
By way of reply, Luna went faster, her lips sliding wetly up and down his shaft. Abby drilled harder. "O-Okay, dude, I'm there."
Flagg released his ironclad self control, grabbed Luna's head in his hands, and pulled her close just as his climax erupted from him in a geyser. Abby moaned and shot his load into her from behind while Flagg shot his into her from the front.
When it was over, both men dropped limply onto the couch. The living room looked like a Civil War battlefield, bodies scattered where they fell - only there was much, much more cum here than at Gettysburg: The warm smell of passion, spunk, and excited girl choked the air, and Flagg breathed deeply through his nose. "Guess I am a pedophile after all."
"You're not the only one," Abby said.
A look passed between them, and they both grinned. "Wanna do it again?" Flagg asked.
"Fuckin' A," Abby replied.
"Alright," Flagg said, "let's…"
Before he could finish, the front door slammed open and a cloud of vape smoke rolled in like gothic mist. Abby and Flagg both coughed. "Smells like stupidity," Flagg said, waving a hand in front of his face. A figure appeared in the cloud, then emerged gut first. "Who the fuck is that?" Abby asked.
Before them stood a man roughly five feet tall and morbidly obese, his dirty hair pulled back in a ponytail and his jigging quadruple chin covered in pubic hair like peach fuzz. He wore glasses and his face was covered in acne; pimples oozed yellow pus and orange Dorito dust stained his lips. He wore a black T-shirt that did little to cover his gelatinous stomach, cargo shorts, and sandals over dirty socks pulled halfway to his knees like someone's grandfather. He thrust out one cum crusted sausage finger and pointed it at Flagg. "You!" he cries in a reedy voice.
Flagg squinted. "Max Hero?"
"No, fiend, I am CopperBob, I was born in 1996 and I have a micopenis. I am sick of you adding your poopyhead self and your booger eating friends to these stories."
"Oh, really?" Flagg asked and got to his feet.
"Yes, and I'm here to make you stop."
"How you gonna do that, kid?" Flagg asked.
CopperBob threw his head back. "By being annoying as possible." He let out an earth-shattering autistic screech that resounded through the house.
Flagg glared. "Alright. Fine. 'Cest League, assemble!"
The hall closet opens and out steps a fat man with messy gray hair dressed in tan slacks and a white western style shirt. His eyes are bleary and his face is covered in week old stubble; he held a bottle of Jack Daniels in one hand. He looks like a washed up country singer fresh off a three day bender, but to be fair, he is a washed up country singer fresh off a three day bender. "Hi, I'm Kenny Rogers!" he slurs and takes a drink.
Something drops from the chimney and into the fireplace; a man crawls out and stands to his full height: He wears spiked shoulder pads and a baseball cap with an extra long bill. His face is sharp, angular, and there is murder in his eyes. "Raganoxer reporting."
A guy in a beanie and a sleeveless jersey with E across the front pops up from behind the couch; he holds a crowbar in one hand and looks pissed. "Boi, bring dat ass here."
Behind CopperBob, a man with black hair and piercing eyes weighed down by bags appears. He wears a black T-shirt and jeans and carries a hammer in one hand and a sickle in the other. "Zer is here," he says in a smooth Russian accent.
The 'Cest League gathers around Flagg and Abby, and CopperBob's obnoxious screeching falters, his eyes darting fearfully from one member to another. "Uhhh...I gotta go, my mom's making me a Hot Pocket." He turns and starts to run, but, shooting forward like the Red Army across the German countryside, Zer catches him in the face with him hammer, then follows up with the sickle. Blood spurts from CopperBob's broken nose and bits of his shattered teeth fly through the air like shrapnel. He falls to the ground, and the entire world shakes, then, whimpering, he rolls onto his stomach.
As one, The 'Cest League springs forward and begins kicking CopperBob's ass: E brought the crowbar down across his back, Flagg kicked him in the side, Abby grabbed a handful of his greasy hair, yanked his head back, and punched him in the nose, and Kenny Rogers wailed on his legs with a retractable baton. All CopperBob could do was curl up in a ball like the fat, spineless sack of shit he was. "Please stop!" he wailed. "It hurts so bad!"
"Back off," Rag said, "I want him one on one."
The other members backed away while Rag rolled CopperBob onto his back and straddled his chest. "You think I'm a dipshit, huh?" Rag asked and wrapped his hands around CopperBob's throat.
"I-I'm sorry, sir!" CopperBob cried. "I didn't mean it!"
Gritting his teeth, Rag squeezed, and CopperBob's eyes bugged out of his head. "This is making my pee pee hard," Rag panted, "I should fuck your beta ass."
"Nahhhh!" CopperBob strangles.
Before he can, Flagg drags him off and takes his place, grabbing the front of CopperBob's shirt and sitting atop his titanic fat rolls like he's the world's biggest, ugliest, and stupidest horse. "Look, motherfucker," Flagg said and bent over, his nose hovering inches from CopperBob's, "I'm getting really sick of your shit. Stop writing your gay ass, retarded ass, bullshit 'extended endings' in my comments section. I wouldn't mind if they were well-written - I let Max Hero do it - but they aren't. They're embarrassing. 'The hot babes that is Lincoln's sisters.' Are you shitting me, you fucking moron? Did you fail high school? Look at that sentence and tell me it doesn't look like it was written by a fucking nine-year-old. And I know you're TheDragonman104 too, posting under a different name so it looks like someone else agrees with you. Next time, don't be a dumb fuck and reference a story under one name then review it under another. Those emails were back to back in my inbox, and even half asleep I knew it was your punk ass."
CopperBob tries to reply, but Flagg cuts him off.
"That's really fucking immature. You know that? I can get reviewing a story you don't like, but propping up your opinions by doing it again under a different name? You're a fucking idiot. What I wanna know is: If you know you don't like my stuff - which you must by this point - why the fuck do you keep reading it? Why, when you see me publish something, do you feel the need to stick your fat fucking nose in and say something? Are you really that juvenile? A grown man, in that situation, would keep scrolling until he found a story he liked. A little boy, like you, throws a conniption fit and stomps his feet like a bitch. I don't wike dis! Wah-wah-wah!" Flagg draws back his hand and slaps CopperBob across his face. CopperBob moans in misery.
"You're as bad as that cabgrant asshole who kept commenting on my stuff last summer until I blocked his ass. In fact...is that you? I bet it is. Couldn't stand the fact that there's something out there you don't like, so you had to sign out of your account to specifically look for and find it." Flagg shakes his head as he reaches into his jacket pocket. CopperBob's eyes widen when he produces a switchblade. "You're a fucking loser and I'm done with you."
With that, Flagg jams the knife into CopperBob's soft throat and twists: Blood gushes out and CopperBob begins to choke. Flagg gets up and joins the rest of The 'Cest League: They watch CopperBob slowly die with disgust, loathing, and satisfaction.
"Alright, team," Flagg says, "move out. There's a spider infestation on Dungeon Ave and we're taking care of it."
The 'Cest League leaves the house, each one spitting on CopperBob's dead body as they pass.
No one missed CopperBob, not even his mother. In fact, she was glad that to have her basement back.