Part 12e – If You're Gonna Play In Roswell Ya Gotta Have An Alien In The Band
Since leaving the group of moronic males, geez was that redundant much? Anyway, after leaving his friends, Alex Whitman headed home. He was glad to be heading home since he was on his last clean shirt, a shirt promoting the WWF wrestler The Undertaker and proclaiming himself a member of "Deadman Inc.". He felt an odd sense of karma biting his butt because of the shirt.
Considering going and seeing his alien girlfriend, who no doubt was going to hurt him if he didn't shower her with gifts and praise, he decided to wait until morning. Then he'd go over and see her, taking her some chocolates, tabasco and some Arby's "Bronco Berry" sauce. He would then kiss her feet and if she was feeling well, he might get to kiss her ass. He was hoping literally, but that's a different fic.
So once in his home, and having checked to make sure no one found the bodi… um, checking to make sure his parents were well, he went to his room and began his nightly ritual of lighting candles, kissing pictures of Isabel and sniffing some… clothing he had acquired… (Come on, what guy hasn't set up a Satanic shrine in honor of a hot chick and offered up his soul for some booty? *crickets chirp* Just us? Oh well.) Having paid homage at the Altar Of Isabel (a.k.a. Stalkerboy Extraordinaire) he laid upon his bed to sleep.
However, the Author still lacked a plot, so something happened…
~shimmer to dreamscape~
(due to the fact he is a teenage male, everyone should imagine the women in clothes, even though in the dream they were all bare ass nekkid and lookin' fine)
"Alex honey, are you okay? We'll have you fixed soon. I promise." Alex looked up at the voice of his angel, Isabel, in the concerned tone she was using.
"I'm okay, what happened? And you really are beautiful, my angel." Alex was, of course, checking out his angel's chest, but then remembered to meet her eyes. It wasn't easy to look away from the… Okay, okay, I'll stop focusing on her breasts… Sheesh, pardon me, the Author just ain't getting' any.
"Oh, you don't remember? You and Max were at the Granolith working on translations when it activated and … MERGED you two into conjoined twins."
"WHAT? Conjoined? Where? Will we be okay?" Alex looked around, and he saw the answer to one of his questions. There, on the table also, was his girlfriend's brother… with his groin conjoined with his own. "OH GOD."
"Don't worry, they're about to fix you. Just go on to sleep honey." With that, she kissed him and he, you know, passed out…
~scene shift to post op~
"Alex, it worked!" Isabel hugged her boyfriend.
"It did? Lemme see." With that, Alex got up and (this scene is for the pleasure of you women folk) stood naked in front of a full length mirror. "Phew. Uh oh, um…"
"What Alex? It's all there, isn't that great?"
"Um, Isabel… How do I say this… but, see, there's a little… more there than used to be… and, um, it feels like I now have three testicles…"
"Oh Alex… well they said there might be complications, but the main thing is you're okay and everything is in working order. Right?"
"Well, Izzy, um, it's not all working. That section that isn't mine, it, um, isn't responding to you like the rest does…"
"Oh… well, let me see." So, she looks, gawks, drools, blushes and licks her lips (yep, Author is a sick puppy). "Don't worry, that's more than enough."
"Yeah, but I'd like to be fully functional."
"Oh don't worry about it, it'll come about in it's own time. Between Bob Dole, Pepsi, Viagra and me imitating Britney Spears for you, we'll have you … up and about in no time."
"Thanks Izzy." With that he hugs her, and he is still hugging her when Liz comes into the room to check on him.
"Alex, how're you doing?"
"I'm doing great… Uh oh."
"Uh oh?"
"Alex! It's working now… wait, it's working for LIZ! HOW DARE YOU!?!?"
"It's not my fault, it's the part from your brother, it must still respond to her… This isn't my fault."
"What are you two talking about, what's responding to me?"
"Well, my boyfriend now has part of my brother's… part, and it seems to respond to you."
"Oh no, that's what Max meant about feeling a little short."
"He's also got one of Max's balls."
"Oh no…"
"Excuse me, still here you know."
"Alex, you know I love you… but, with you having part of my brother, that'd just be incest… I just can't anymore. This is it, I'm going to go date Brody, he's old enough."
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO….." And with that, Alex woke up in the morning. Instantly checking to be sure that he has the proper number and proportions of himself. Sighing with relief he repeated the mantra it was only a dream.
Deciding he should call and check on Max, and make sure he didn't have a similar dream, he dialed Max up. The response he got from his simple query to Max set the tone for the day.
"Hey Max, how's it hanging?"
"WHY? WHAT HAVE YOU HEARD?" And from there, it went downhill…
And somewhere in the city of Roswell, two blondes giggled conspiratorially…
And elsewhere in Roswell, a small blue army of Smurfs plotted…
And somewhere in America, an Author took more drugs then posted this…
And elsewhere in the world, someone read this and decided the Author must die…
And somewhere in the world, Carmen San Diego hid…
And elsewhere in the world, someone wondered if this had a point…
Since leaving the group of moronic males, geez was that redundant much? Anyway, after leaving his friends, Alex Whitman headed home. He was glad to be heading home since he was on his last clean shirt, a shirt promoting the WWF wrestler The Undertaker and proclaiming himself a member of "Deadman Inc.". He felt an odd sense of karma biting his butt because of the shirt.
Considering going and seeing his alien girlfriend, who no doubt was going to hurt him if he didn't shower her with gifts and praise, he decided to wait until morning. Then he'd go over and see her, taking her some chocolates, tabasco and some Arby's "Bronco Berry" sauce. He would then kiss her feet and if she was feeling well, he might get to kiss her ass. He was hoping literally, but that's a different fic.
So once in his home, and having checked to make sure no one found the bodi… um, checking to make sure his parents were well, he went to his room and began his nightly ritual of lighting candles, kissing pictures of Isabel and sniffing some… clothing he had acquired… (Come on, what guy hasn't set up a Satanic shrine in honor of a hot chick and offered up his soul for some booty? *crickets chirp* Just us? Oh well.) Having paid homage at the Altar Of Isabel (a.k.a. Stalkerboy Extraordinaire) he laid upon his bed to sleep.
However, the Author still lacked a plot, so something happened…
~shimmer to dreamscape~
(due to the fact he is a teenage male, everyone should imagine the women in clothes, even though in the dream they were all bare ass nekkid and lookin' fine)
"Alex honey, are you okay? We'll have you fixed soon. I promise." Alex looked up at the voice of his angel, Isabel, in the concerned tone she was using.
"I'm okay, what happened? And you really are beautiful, my angel." Alex was, of course, checking out his angel's chest, but then remembered to meet her eyes. It wasn't easy to look away from the… Okay, okay, I'll stop focusing on her breasts… Sheesh, pardon me, the Author just ain't getting' any.
"Oh, you don't remember? You and Max were at the Granolith working on translations when it activated and … MERGED you two into conjoined twins."
"WHAT? Conjoined? Where? Will we be okay?" Alex looked around, and he saw the answer to one of his questions. There, on the table also, was his girlfriend's brother… with his groin conjoined with his own. "OH GOD."
"Don't worry, they're about to fix you. Just go on to sleep honey." With that, she kissed him and he, you know, passed out…
~scene shift to post op~
"Alex, it worked!" Isabel hugged her boyfriend.
"It did? Lemme see." With that, Alex got up and (this scene is for the pleasure of you women folk) stood naked in front of a full length mirror. "Phew. Uh oh, um…"
"What Alex? It's all there, isn't that great?"
"Um, Isabel… How do I say this… but, see, there's a little… more there than used to be… and, um, it feels like I now have three testicles…"
"Oh Alex… well they said there might be complications, but the main thing is you're okay and everything is in working order. Right?"
"Well, Izzy, um, it's not all working. That section that isn't mine, it, um, isn't responding to you like the rest does…"
"Oh… well, let me see." So, she looks, gawks, drools, blushes and licks her lips (yep, Author is a sick puppy). "Don't worry, that's more than enough."
"Yeah, but I'd like to be fully functional."
"Oh don't worry about it, it'll come about in it's own time. Between Bob Dole, Pepsi, Viagra and me imitating Britney Spears for you, we'll have you … up and about in no time."
"Thanks Izzy." With that he hugs her, and he is still hugging her when Liz comes into the room to check on him.
"Alex, how're you doing?"
"I'm doing great… Uh oh."
"Uh oh?"
"Alex! It's working now… wait, it's working for LIZ! HOW DARE YOU!?!?"
"It's not my fault, it's the part from your brother, it must still respond to her… This isn't my fault."
"What are you two talking about, what's responding to me?"
"Well, my boyfriend now has part of my brother's… part, and it seems to respond to you."
"Oh no, that's what Max meant about feeling a little short."
"He's also got one of Max's balls."
"Oh no…"
"Excuse me, still here you know."
"Alex, you know I love you… but, with you having part of my brother, that'd just be incest… I just can't anymore. This is it, I'm going to go date Brody, he's old enough."
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO….." And with that, Alex woke up in the morning. Instantly checking to be sure that he has the proper number and proportions of himself. Sighing with relief he repeated the mantra it was only a dream.
Deciding he should call and check on Max, and make sure he didn't have a similar dream, he dialed Max up. The response he got from his simple query to Max set the tone for the day.
"Hey Max, how's it hanging?"
"WHY? WHAT HAVE YOU HEARD?" And from there, it went downhill…
And somewhere in the city of Roswell, two blondes giggled conspiratorially…
And elsewhere in Roswell, a small blue army of Smurfs plotted…
And somewhere in America, an Author took more drugs then posted this…
And elsewhere in the world, someone read this and decided the Author must die…
And somewhere in the world, Carmen San Diego hid…
And elsewhere in the world, someone wondered if this had a point…