Read Online The Life and Times of Innis E. Coxman by R. P. Lester - Free Book Online
Authors: R. P. Lester
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Thousand Mustangs was so powerful it created a dust cloud, landing
with the might of a vengeful God raining sulfur upon the wicked. I wouldn’t
feel pain like that again until years later when I was trapped between a wall
and a Buick in my dealings with another woman.
I
puked everything I’d eaten since breakfast. Such was my distress, I
half-expected to see my underdeveloped pellets in the pile of corn dogs and
Trix. Instead, when I looked up through watery eyes, I saw a smile across
Trashley’s face, her canines tapering into smart points (“Monster Mash” blared
from somewhere in the distance). A crowd of children gathered around to see
what had transpired. I doubled over and fell on my side to conceal my shame.
In
a twinkle of seconds, the Wicked Bitch of the West had stunted my manhood,
turning me into a chick forthwith as red dots speckled my crotch.
I
was curled into the fetal position, pondering the word “sex” and what
importance it would have in my adult world. I’d heard about it from some of the
other kids but was given only minor details. What I did know was that
you needed a video camera and your junk to do it. I
panicked when I realized that Trashley had kicked my nuts into my pelvis and that this “sex” thing may be something I’d have to
relegate to fantasy like those surgically implanted knuckle spikes I’d always
craved. I was in a world of agony, so chagrined that I wanted to stick my head
in the Earth like an ostrich.
But
all was not lost, for just as the horny aunt of embarrassment was running over
to envelop me into her large, lopsided bosom and marvel at what a big boy I’d
become.....
Thank
God for Fred! In the afternoons, he’d meet me by a makeshift hole in the fence
for our walk home from school. He’d seen everything.
My
faithful friend hoofed it toward Trashley with hot daggers in his eyes and
enough fumes in his ass to blow away an entire acre of evil! That little
sorceress may have had a reptilian heart, but I had a fearless omnivore ready
to eat her black spirit! He gnashed teeth at Trashley, halting her from another
assault as I heaved in the background.
Keeping
that succubus at the fringe, Fred made attempts to look for my little raisins
in the dirt so they wouldn’t get squashed, him being a goat and not realizing
that it’s physically impossible to kick the testicles out of a scrotum. I think
it is, anyway.
Seeing
futility in further attack, Trashley accepted defeat (that’ll teach her to fuck with my music!). She grew weary of the fat bastard writhing in pain and
put her witch’s costume back on, straddling her broom like a Thoroughbred and
clopping away to steal the leg braces from that handicapped kid with the
asthmatic seeing eye dog whose mom was in jail.
With
good fortune held together by spit and prayer, I was able to take a knee, but getting
up wasn’t in the cards. My loyal ally picked me up with his Herculean teeth and
helped me right myself. We exited through the hole and I limped the six blocks
home, Fred supporting me whenever I began to falter. I was a butterball, but my
goat was tough and could prop me for hours if need be.
And
oh God, did I need be.
My
parents had gone out of town for a few days so I was spared the twenty
questions. I collapsed on my bed where I slept for the rest of the night. Fred
laid down on his blue quilt and chewed on a pair of Victoria’s Secret panties
from the garbage can of the escort next door, prepared to alert me should
Brunhilda return to finish the job. When I awoke the next morning, I discovered
that he’d nudged my Wiffle Ball bat next to my unconscious body.
Ride
or Die Fred, my only friend in the world.
***
It
looked like a cow had chewed a pack of Juicy Fruit and slapped it under my
dick.
My
pebbles reappeared the next day, though seemingly worse for wear. I probably
should’ve gone to a doctor, but fuck that—that would’ve led to my parents’
involvement and I wasn’t telling them
with the might of a vengeful God raining sulfur upon the wicked. I wouldn’t
feel pain like that again until years later when I was trapped between a wall
and a Buick in my dealings with another woman.
I
puked everything I’d eaten since breakfast. Such was my distress, I
half-expected to see my underdeveloped pellets in the pile of corn dogs and
Trix. Instead, when I looked up through watery eyes, I saw a smile across
Trashley’s face, her canines tapering into smart points (“Monster Mash” blared
from somewhere in the distance). A crowd of children gathered around to see
what had transpired. I doubled over and fell on my side to conceal my shame.
In
a twinkle of seconds, the Wicked Bitch of the West had stunted my manhood,
turning me into a chick forthwith as red dots speckled my crotch.
I
was curled into the fetal position, pondering the word “sex” and what
importance it would have in my adult world. I’d heard about it from some of the
other kids but was given only minor details. What I did know was that
you needed a video camera and your junk to do it. I
panicked when I realized that Trashley had kicked my nuts into my pelvis and that this “sex” thing may be something I’d have to
relegate to fantasy like those surgically implanted knuckle spikes I’d always
craved. I was in a world of agony, so chagrined that I wanted to stick my head
in the Earth like an ostrich.
But
all was not lost, for just as the horny aunt of embarrassment was running over
to envelop me into her large, lopsided bosom and marvel at what a big boy I’d
become.....
Thank
God for Fred! In the afternoons, he’d meet me by a makeshift hole in the fence
for our walk home from school. He’d seen everything.
My
faithful friend hoofed it toward Trashley with hot daggers in his eyes and
enough fumes in his ass to blow away an entire acre of evil! That little
sorceress may have had a reptilian heart, but I had a fearless omnivore ready
to eat her black spirit! He gnashed teeth at Trashley, halting her from another
assault as I heaved in the background.
Keeping
that succubus at the fringe, Fred made attempts to look for my little raisins
in the dirt so they wouldn’t get squashed, him being a goat and not realizing
that it’s physically impossible to kick the testicles out of a scrotum. I think
it is, anyway.
Seeing
futility in further attack, Trashley accepted defeat (that’ll teach her to fuck with my music!). She grew weary of the fat bastard writhing in pain and
put her witch’s costume back on, straddling her broom like a Thoroughbred and
clopping away to steal the leg braces from that handicapped kid with the
asthmatic seeing eye dog whose mom was in jail.
With
good fortune held together by spit and prayer, I was able to take a knee, but getting
up wasn’t in the cards. My loyal ally picked me up with his Herculean teeth and
helped me right myself. We exited through the hole and I limped the six blocks
home, Fred supporting me whenever I began to falter. I was a butterball, but my
goat was tough and could prop me for hours if need be.
And
oh God, did I need be.
My
parents had gone out of town for a few days so I was spared the twenty
questions. I collapsed on my bed where I slept for the rest of the night. Fred
laid down on his blue quilt and chewed on a pair of Victoria’s Secret panties
from the garbage can of the escort next door, prepared to alert me should
Brunhilda return to finish the job. When I awoke the next morning, I discovered
that he’d nudged my Wiffle Ball bat next to my unconscious body.
Ride
or Die Fred, my only friend in the world.
***
It
looked like a cow had chewed a pack of Juicy Fruit and slapped it under my
dick.
My
pebbles reappeared the next day, though seemingly worse for wear. I probably
should’ve gone to a doctor, but fuck that—that would’ve led to my parents’
involvement and I wasn’t telling them
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