by e.henry
Baby, it will be our night tonight.
I will lay you gently down upon the finest mink covered, spotless, padded
surface. Your marshmallow-soft, nearly naked body will sink down into it
soundlessly.
And on that surface I will slowly, gently, and carefully divest you of
your diaper.
You will not cry.
There on the spotless fur-covered changing table you will have a
mind-blowing experience. And it will not be the last time tonight.
I will have traveled for blocks and blocks to obtain the finest unscented
diaper wipes that money can buy. And these diaper wipes will be downy
soft. It will feel like a miraculous cloud of softness and purity has
wiped the shit from your ass. And it will wipe away the undigested peas
and corn as well. It will wipe away those booger-like jelly things that
the diaper chemicals turn pee into. There will be no limits to the
wiping. You will be wiped without mercy until clean.
During the wiping you will not squirm. My incredible diaper changing
technique will keep you utterly motionlessness during the entire
procedure.
Your new diaper will be placed with pinpoint accuracy, with my left hand,
in the right spot under your back as I lift you up by the ankles with my
right hand. I will lower you gently into the cradle-like diaper. This
diaper will be quilted and baby-soft. The edges will gather around your
legs without pinching. It will fasten with Velcro securely around your
belly. You will be able to walk without undue waddling in this diaper
because it is the best ultratrim huggies brand of diaper, from the finest
Safeway.
Baby, I will put you back in your crib and you will go to sleep.
*************************************************************************************
Thursday, March 28, 2002
by e.henry
From: The unidentifiable thing in your fridge
Girl, tonight will be a night to remember.
You will open the fridge looking for something delectable. You will be
looking for the succulent, savory food of your dreams.
A chill, damp wind will cool your fevered brow as you open the
refrigerator door. And that wind will smell like wilted lettuce.
Your mouth will water as you imagine the soft brie cheese, the noodles
with parmesan, the roast chicken encrusted with orange almonds, the garlic
and ginger green beans that might be left over.
But in vain.
You will rummage among the dewy, brown-stained, nearly empty take-out
containers. There will be a half-full bottle of Corona. It will be devoid
of bubbliness. And it will taste just the way the fridge smells.
You will remain in control of your increasing nausea.
In back of the expired gallon jug of milk with only a little bit left, you
will find a Tupperware container with some dried-out rice in it. Under it,
there will be a plastic bag which gently cradles a few withered purple
grapes on their skeletal stems.
And then you will see me. Greenish-gray. Powdery with mold, and yet
watery and slushy too.
Right there in front of the fridge your eyes will bug out of your head.
And you will vomit.
*********************************************************************************
From: The unidentifiable thing in your fridge
Girl, tonight will be a night to remember.
You will open the fridge looking for something delectable. You will be
looking for the succulent, savory food of your dreams.
A chill, damp wind will cool your fevered brow as you open the
refrigerator door. And that wind will smell like wilted lettuce.
Your mouth will water as you imagine the soft brie cheese, the noodles
with parmesan, the roast chicken encrusted with orange almonds, the garlic
and ginger green beans that might be left over.
But in vain.
You will rummage among the dewy, brown-stained, nearly empty take-out
containers. There will be a half-full bottle of Corona. It will be devoid
of bubbliness. And it will taste just the way the fridge smells.
You will remain in control of your increasing nausea.
In back of the expired gallon jug of milk with only a little bit left, you
will find a Tupperware container with some dried-out rice in it. Under it,
there will be a plastic bag which gently cradles a few withered purple
grapes on their skeletal stems.
And then you will see me. Greenish-gray. Powdery with mold, and yet
watery and slushy too.
Right there in front of the fridge your eyes will bug out of your head.
And you will vomit.
*********************************************************************************
by e.henry
V'ger, I want to freak you wild.
Come out from under the bed. Yes, you.
Oh V'ger, delightful vision of fluffiness. Tonight is our night.
I will make a soft bed for you. And it will be covered in your own cat
hair. It will smell comforting. From this bed you will be able to see out
the window to where squirrels and birds abjectly grovel before your
splendid throne of safety.
On this bed you will receive petting.
It will be no ordinary petting. Two hands will smooth down your furry
spine in a soothing rhythm. There will be chirruping and purring. You
will head-butt the two hands in a frenzy of nose-wiping. That spot where
your whiskers come out shall be scratched to perfection, without in any
way disturbing the integrity of your sleek, sensitive whiskers.
The finest incense distilled from the firm fatty flesh of yellowfin tuna
will fill the room, alluring you to a state of contented somnolence.
You will arise from your pillow and settle in my warm, fragrant
armpit. You will gaze with huge liquid eyes adoringly at my face.
I will not dare to fidget. Hours will pass.
V'ger, destiny has brought us together.
Cease to hide under the bed.
V'ger!
************************************************************************
V'ger, I want to freak you wild.
Come out from under the bed. Yes, you.
Oh V'ger, delightful vision of fluffiness. Tonight is our night.
I will make a soft bed for you. And it will be covered in your own cat
hair. It will smell comforting. From this bed you will be able to see out
the window to where squirrels and birds abjectly grovel before your
splendid throne of safety.
On this bed you will receive petting.
It will be no ordinary petting. Two hands will smooth down your furry
spine in a soothing rhythm. There will be chirruping and purring. You
will head-butt the two hands in a frenzy of nose-wiping. That spot where
your whiskers come out shall be scratched to perfection, without in any
way disturbing the integrity of your sleek, sensitive whiskers.
The finest incense distilled from the firm fatty flesh of yellowfin tuna
will fill the room, alluring you to a state of contented somnolence.
You will arise from your pillow and settle in my warm, fragrant
armpit. You will gaze with huge liquid eyes adoringly at my face.
I will not dare to fidget. Hours will pass.
V'ger, destiny has brought us together.
Cease to hide under the bed.
V'ger!
************************************************************************
by l.henry
boy, i am going to treat you to a romantic night tonight.
First i will arrive on your doorstep wearing only the finest tight babydoll t-shirt with a clever quip on it. This will drive you wild.
I will be carrying the most expensive and elegant beer that money can buy. i will have traveled to the farthest reaches of the earth to obtain this beer just for you. i will open the beer with only the finest bottle opener that the finest grocery store in asia can provide.
i will also provide donuts.
we will then watch two hours of star trek voyager. during which my extrensive knowledge of gene rodenberry trivia will astound you and make you want to freak me right there on the couch all night long.
but i will make you wait til later. and this will be romantic.
when the aforementioned later arrives i will lead you to the bedroom and rip off your clothes. and then i will do other things that will make you tremble with desire.
boy i cant stand it. i must get on the train and come to your office and freak you right there in your cubicle.
bring it on.
**************************************************************************************************
boy, i am going to treat you to a romantic night tonight.
First i will arrive on your doorstep wearing only the finest tight babydoll t-shirt with a clever quip on it. This will drive you wild.
I will be carrying the most expensive and elegant beer that money can buy. i will have traveled to the farthest reaches of the earth to obtain this beer just for you. i will open the beer with only the finest bottle opener that the finest grocery store in asia can provide.
i will also provide donuts.
we will then watch two hours of star trek voyager. during which my extrensive knowledge of gene rodenberry trivia will astound you and make you want to freak me right there on the couch all night long.
but i will make you wait til later. and this will be romantic.
when the aforementioned later arrives i will lead you to the bedroom and rip off your clothes. and then i will do other things that will make you tremble with desire.
boy i cant stand it. i must get on the train and come to your office and freak you right there in your cubicle.
bring it on.
**************************************************************************************************
a.edgmond
Par'machkai, we're going to freak like Kahless and Lukara.
I know in the past we have gripped each other in the night like Vulcan sehlats in a battle frenzy. We tore up our bed furs all night long, dripping in sweat, howling and writhing with something like bloodlust. But tonight, baby, I'm going to slow things down. I'm going to stroke you soft-like, like Pike and his green-skinned freak-nasties. Baby, let me show you what honorable romance is like in Minsk.
I will burn you a bonfire, and sing Aktuh and Melota to you, with a passion for the ages. You have never heard opera like you will hear tonight. I will honorably challenge each of your suitors, and dispatch them with honor. You will gasp at my fighting technique.
I will make you feel like the Empress of Q'OnoS.
I will slaughter a targ for you, but only the fattest, hairiest targ in my herd. I will prepare him with spices and herbs, rubbed into his flesh for many hours. I will present the targ on the pelt of a Berengarian dragon I have strangled myself. You will be dazzled beyond belief.
I will also hand-serve you blood pudding.
After we have nourished ourselves, we will move to flavored snow from Breen. I will crew a finely constructed, new-car-smelling Imperial Bird of Prey with the finest Klingon warriors, and fly all the way to Breen, avoiding border patrols with my delicate piloting touch. I will transport to her frigid icefields, and only select the whitest, purest, virgin-blown snow, all the while drop-kicking and slicing ferocious Breen soldiers into tender vittles. The snow must be perfect and chilled nicely. Yes, I will bleed profusely, and cry in great pain, all to bring you a moment of great culinary pleasure.
Kahless be damned, I must taste you. Now.
Yes.
After the snow, I will put out the fire, and we will slink back to the armory. Light will refract off my expertly-assembled blade collection, which will make you shudder in delight. I will rub your leather cuirass down with expensive oils, painstakingly crafted from the horns of mugatos. You will ask to see my mek'leth. And I will do so. This is how it will go down.
I will throw you to the ground, and I will bite you. All the while, caressing your dorsal ridges while fending off your cunning attacks. Then I will swoop low and show you my most cunning attack. And I will say such things as "Girl, you are the most incredible sparring partner ever born, and I must conquer that ass." And you will shriek with delight and pleasure and a little pain. After many days and nights of hot struggling and naked sparring, I will sheath my bat'leth in you. Right there. And you will see Sto Vo Kor. I swear it to you.
Smoove W. out.
Par'machkai, we're going to freak like Kahless and Lukara.
I know in the past we have gripped each other in the night like Vulcan sehlats in a battle frenzy. We tore up our bed furs all night long, dripping in sweat, howling and writhing with something like bloodlust. But tonight, baby, I'm going to slow things down. I'm going to stroke you soft-like, like Pike and his green-skinned freak-nasties. Baby, let me show you what honorable romance is like in Minsk.
I will burn you a bonfire, and sing Aktuh and Melota to you, with a passion for the ages. You have never heard opera like you will hear tonight. I will honorably challenge each of your suitors, and dispatch them with honor. You will gasp at my fighting technique.
I will make you feel like the Empress of Q'OnoS.
I will slaughter a targ for you, but only the fattest, hairiest targ in my herd. I will prepare him with spices and herbs, rubbed into his flesh for many hours. I will present the targ on the pelt of a Berengarian dragon I have strangled myself. You will be dazzled beyond belief.
I will also hand-serve you blood pudding.
After we have nourished ourselves, we will move to flavored snow from Breen. I will crew a finely constructed, new-car-smelling Imperial Bird of Prey with the finest Klingon warriors, and fly all the way to Breen, avoiding border patrols with my delicate piloting touch. I will transport to her frigid icefields, and only select the whitest, purest, virgin-blown snow, all the while drop-kicking and slicing ferocious Breen soldiers into tender vittles. The snow must be perfect and chilled nicely. Yes, I will bleed profusely, and cry in great pain, all to bring you a moment of great culinary pleasure.
Kahless be damned, I must taste you. Now.
Yes.
After the snow, I will put out the fire, and we will slink back to the armory. Light will refract off my expertly-assembled blade collection, which will make you shudder in delight. I will rub your leather cuirass down with expensive oils, painstakingly crafted from the horns of mugatos. You will ask to see my mek'leth. And I will do so. This is how it will go down.
I will throw you to the ground, and I will bite you. All the while, caressing your dorsal ridges while fending off your cunning attacks. Then I will swoop low and show you my most cunning attack. And I will say such things as "Girl, you are the most incredible sparring partner ever born, and I must conquer that ass." And you will shriek with delight and pleasure and a little pain. After many days and nights of hot struggling and naked sparring, I will sheath my bat'leth in you. Right there. And you will see Sto Vo Kor. I swear it to you.
Smoove W. out.