Silently, On the Blink of Orgasm

by The Almighty Tim

Amelia Rose is an ordinary 18-year-old girl struggling to choose between the love of a Weeping Angel, as constant as stone, and a series of brief but passionate affairs with a Silent, which are all too swiftly forgotten. With the help of her sassy Dalek best friend, this story chronicles her efforts to navigate the turbulent waters of love, and life.

10. The Fappiness Patrol

About five minutes ago, right here...

It is a period of mass penetration. Auton dildos, striking again and again into our hidden bases, have won their first victory against the firm yet malleable orifices of humankind.

During the battle, Flint Livingston was turned evil by Missy, and returned with her to the ULTIMATE WEAPON, the armoured space station of the Thrustene Consciousness.

Pursued by the Autons' sinister agents, Amelia-Rose and Clara race home aboard the Number 44 bus, custodian of the post-coital magic powers that can save her people and restore freedom to London, which for some reason is the only part of the world being targetted...

My heart feels like it has been smashed into a pulpy mess, like the pedestrian the bus just hit. I stare at the blood splatters on the window, watching them trickle down the panes of glass like the tears down my cheek.

"Why do bad things always happen to me?" I weep, holding onto Clara tightly, feeling her soft warmth pressed against me in a comforting manner. Soft Clara, warm Clara, little ball of purely platonic friendship. Her friendship orbs heave on her chest as she breathes. I stare at them. A warm knot of friendship tightens in my loins.

But no! I'm sad! Damn you, Flint! You uneducated rug-burn!

The sky is turning red

Return to power draws near

Fall into me, the sky's crimson tears

Abolish the rules made of stone

Gothic tears slip down my face like grease made out of sadness, and my lip quivers. Clara applies pressure to my arm in a squeezing motion and this is a gesture of human sympathy. The bus jostles under squirming dildos and chunks of unfortunate pedestrian.

"Don't worry!" Clara's words float into my earspace, caressing the edges of my shattered heart.

"How can I not worry?" My voice trembles. "Flint's betrayed me! He's been ensnared by the world of leather jackets and spontaneous cigarette appearances!"

Clara rests a hand on my shoulder. "Because-"

But suddenly the bus comes to a stop. Terror splashes across Clara's face like a particularly-well aimed money shot. I have chills. They're multiplying.

"What's happening?"

"Routine inspection! Put up your hands and then attach them to nearby genitals!"

The door is suddenly kicked in sexily. A figure strides in, clad in scary, black armour – it smells of leather and expiring fluids. His codpiece glistens menacingly in the light, and thin straps run up his bare chest, crisscrossing before looping around his shoulders like slick, black tentacles. He has a black helmet, with a visor. A small chestplate rests in the centre of his hairy chest, displaying his insignia – a fascistic, clenched fist, pumping strikingly into the air while clutching a spunking cock. Their stranglehold on the evils of truth and love is almost as tight as their hypothetical grip on this semen-spewing meat rod.

"Oh my god!" Clara rises to her feet. Also, Ryan was also there. "It's the Fappiness Patrol!"

"Correct!" The soldier grins, probably, beneath his visor. "Hail the Fappiness Patrol! Suck on one head and two more shall take its place!"

The Fappiness Patrolman begins handing out sex toys; the over-zealous Auton sausages writhing in one hand, powered by lust and two AA batteries, and some ordinary Fleshlights in the other. "Take one and start wanking," he commands commandingly.

I gasp, rising to my feet. "Oh my god, this goes deeper than I thought!" I giggle at the innuendo.

"Stop talking and start wanking!" the Fappiness Patrolman commands again.

"Never!" I cry, fighting the urge to grow moist. "You can take our loins, but you can never take our freedom!"

"THIS INVASION IS NOT COMPATABLE WITH THE DALEK MASTER PLAN. THESE INFERIOR LIFEFORMS MUST BE STOPPED."

"Oh Ryan, but how can we stop them? They've targeted humanity's one weakness!" It all seems so, so hopeless. Automatically I reach for Clara's hand but the Fappiness Patrolman aims his pulsating dildo gun at us.

"I WILL SCAN THE HIVEMIND AND LOCATE THEIR WEAKNESS," Ryan's sucker twitches and his lights begin to flash rapidly like a terrifying school disco. Suddenly he beeps and his gunstick rises in triumph, "THEY ARE ALL CONNECTED TO THE INTERWEB. I BELIEVE THE KEY TO THEIR DEFEAT LIES INYOUR 'SOCIAL MEDIA'."

"Oh my god!" I cry in delight, pulling out my baby pink iPhone 3681-900, "My Twitter feed, of course! Fight self-love with self-love!"

"Oh Amelia, you're a genius." Clara smiles fondly as I begin to type like the fate of the world's orgasms depends on it.

Free flying lessons price is only 5 bananas and all of your happiness

Bleeding cows

let them eat grass

Not in a drugs way

Unless they want that

GIVEs THE COWS FREEDOM

steam and smoke are very different

one is death

thesaurus

They will change your words and also your thoughts

Be careful

I feel sorry for the pink in battenburg

actually no we are not colours and neither is battenberg

It is so alone

Like weepinbell

Make sure you buy your house and an orange train

With all the jellybabies on it

Bread bread gallons of the bread

STOP WASTING BREAD

THEY KEEP DOING IT

Pigeon claws and liars

Alcohol doesn't taste as nice as juice but it's different

Bleeding

Buildings are square way too often

Broken hearts aren't good, i\'d say they're bad like broken plates

NO one bothers fixing plates

Different types of pastry

If I had a hammer I'd use it in moderation

Shake it off

ring ring ring ring ring ring ring ring what if there is never an answer

look everywhere or there will be no air freshener

baguettes are sacred

Imagine if all pockets were in the shape of houses

Judging judging

Diamonds are so misunderstood

ducks

Cathedral number 57

remember that food is odd

The floor is not made of tasty chocolate treats

People like burning pigs in their gravity orbs of truth and hopelessness

each page is a different side to a story

Wheels keep turning against us

Beer is controversial

so is religion

Medicine

Morality, we are doomed

Yaaaaaasss

The stream of information floods the Auton-dildos' brains and they seize up, twitching and sparking for some reason.

"MY VISION IS IMPAIRED, I CANNOT SEE," the dildos exclaim in unison.

"We could never see, we have no eyes," a dildo responds.

"Now who's doing the penetrating?" I quip wittily.

Clara laughs at my wit, and my psychic boning. "Must be mind-blowing sex!"

As the Auton-dildos twitch all over the floor, we flee the bus with all the other passengers, save one who dies in the dramatic bus explosion. Donning my sunglasses, I walk away without looking back. Tomorrow is another day, another penetration. Another weird sexual adventure...

But it seems that this is not the last of our problems with the Auton-dildos. Porky Jr springs back to life in my pocket.

"Drat!" I exclaim. "We only disabled them momentarily!"

"Oh no!" Clara responds.

"We must make our way to the secret space station from which the dildos are controlled to defeat them once and for all!"

"But how will we get there?"

VWORP VWORP VWORP

"It's the TARDIS!" Clara exclaims.

"No," comes a voice from the shadows. "It's the TAMDIS! Time and muculent dimension in space."

"Roger!" I leap into his arms, having forgotten him for some reason, until now. I grow moist.