Six Scifi Stories

by Robert T. Jeschonek

  Hearing those words, I felt as if my supercreamy center was about to explode, spraying ultrachocolate crumbs and frosting all over the kitchen...all over Lynda. How I kept my voice even and said what I said, I’ll never know.

  "Maybe that isn’t such a good idea right now," I told her. "Maybe we should wait."

  Lynda tossed the towel aside and walked over to me. "But I don’t want to wait," she said. "I want you now."

  "I just think we should both be sure," I said, playing devil’s advocate, letting Lynda take the initiative. "I want it to be perfect. I want us both to be ready."

  Reaching out, Lynda stroked my wrapper. "Oh, I’m ready," she said, her voice filled with desire.

  "Well then," I said, deciding the time was right to let the situation run its course. "If you’re sure, then let’s take the next step. Let’s see where it leads us."

  Slowly, she lifted me from the counter. She raised me, still wrapped, to her nose and inhaled deeply of my rich fragrance...then sighed blissfully. "It’s been too long," she said. "It feels like it’s been forever."

  Her luscious mouth was so close, I had trouble keeping my mind clear. "I’ll make it worth the wait," I said, obsessed with the warmth of her breath as it fogged my cellophane wrapper. "I’ll give you what you need, Lynda."

  Hungrily, her eyes ran up and down the length of me, drinking me in. "I don’t think I can wait another minute," she said, her fingers trembling as she held me. "I have to have you right now."

  "It’s okay," I said. "I want you, too. I’ve wanted you since the first moment I saw you."

  "Oh God," she said as she fumbled with my wrapper, tearing it open. "Give it to me. Please give it to me!"

  I was out of my mind with desire as she tugged me free of my packaging and threw it aside. The feel of her fingers around me, bare flesh against bare cake and frosting with nothing between us, was infinitely better than I had ever imagined.

  FINALLY, she was poised to DEVOUR me, to fulfill my urgent burning LUST and GRIND me up in her MOUTH so TENDER so MERCILESS so WET so RED...and even though I knew I’d been made to crave and seduce her, though I knew my drive to get her to eat me was designed to push her to develop a taste for Smidgens and buy many more of us...I WALLOWED in her embrace and LONGED for her none the less.

  I had NEVER known ANYTHING SO WONDERFUL in my life. I felt the PULSING of her fingertips as she raised me toward her MOUTH, and the whole world MELTED AWAY, leaving nothing but her glistening LIPS AND TONGUE AND TEETH.

  She opened WIDE and moved me CLOSER. The SMELL and HEAT of her BREATH washed over me, drowning out all coherent thought, stripping away everything but GREEDY ABANDON.

  Then, suddenly, the rapturous spell was broken. A chorus of tiny voices spoke up, and Lynda stopped drawing me into her mouth.

  "Don’t do it, Lynda!" said the voices. It sounded like there were dozens of them, piping shrilly from somewhere in the kitchen. "Don’t give in! Remember your diet!"

  Slowly, Lynda turned, looking for the source of the tinny cries. Even before her gaze settled on the Sea Sprite bag on the counter, I knew that the plankton snacks inside were responsible for ruining our rendezvous.

  "You’ve worked so hard to lose weight!" said the plankton snacks, their deep green curlicues visible through the window on the front of the cellophane bag. "Don’t give up now! Don’t let him take advantage of you!"

  I looked up at Lynda, hoping we could still retrieve the magic...but the look on her face told me I’d lost the advantage. Her eyes were guilty and distant, her jaws clenched, her lips clamped tight.

  "Lynda," I said calmly, making a play though I knew it was doomed. "I just want you to be happy. There’s nothing wrong with finding a little happiness, is there?"

  My words were indeed futile. Slowly, she lowered me to the counter.

  "Woo!" shouted the plankton snack chorus. "Way to go, Lynda! We knew you could do it!"

  "Shut up!" she said angrily. "Just shut the hell up!"

  "But we’re on your side," chirped the plankton snacks. "We want you to succeed! We want you to stick with healthy snacks like us instead of bad, fattening junk food like Smidgens!"

  Lynda stomped over and snatched the Sea Sprite bag from the counter. As the cellophane crinkled in her hand, the green curlicues in the bag erupted with joyful cries and whistles.

  "Yay!" they said. "You go, girl!"

  Then, while the plankton snacks were still twittering merrily, Lynda tore the bag open...and dumped them down the garbage disposal in the sink.

  As the snacks cried out in surprise and protest, Lynda ran water into the disposal and switched it on. A chorus of tiny screams erupted from the sink as the disposal ground the plankton snacks to bits with a mighty rumble.

  Flicking off the disposal and pitching the empty Sea Sprite bag on the floor, Lynda turned to face me. "Don’t you say anything, either," she snapped, tears running down her chubby cheeks. "Not a word!"

  Fearing she might dump me down the disposal after the plankton snacks, I remained silent. Lynda did not say a word, either, as she lumbered out of the kitchen, but I could hear her sobbing when she got to the next room.

  *****

  Much later that night (last night), she returned to me. Her brown hair was matted and stuck to her face, her skin was pale, her eyes bloodshot from crying.

  I, of course, thought she looked as ravishingly beautiful as ever...though I felt sad that the love of my life had so clearly been suffering. I wished more than anything that I could comfort her with my sweet chocolate cake and deluxe creamy filling.

  But I knew I needed to take it slow.

  "Hello, Lynda," I said softly.

  She did not answer. Shuffling to the refrigerator, she opened the door and pulled out a bottle of water. She looked utterly exhausted and defeated as she slouched into a chair at the kitchen table, letting the refrigerator door stand open behind her.

  "Listen," I said after a moment. "About earlier. I’m sorry if you felt pressured."

  Lynda unscrewed the cap from the bottle of water and had a drink. Staring into space, she slowly lowered the bottle to the table when she was done.

  Faced with her dark, unresponsive mood, I considered staying silent...then decided instead to inch forward while choosing my words carefully. "I just want you to know I’m here for you," I said. "I know we just met, but I really feel a connection between us."

  "I hate myself," Lynda said without looking at me. "I’ve always hated myself."

  "I think you’re being too hard on yourself," I said.

  "Here I am, forty-two years old," she said, her voice slow and ragged, "and I have never had anyone love me. Not a man or a woman or anything in between. And who can blame them when I look the way I do?"

  "There’s someone for everyone," I said, longing for her to pluck me from the counter and pull me toward her mouth again.

  "I haven’t weighed less than two hundred pounds since I was seventeen years old," said Lynda. "I’ve got no self-control when it comes to food."

  EXACTLY WHAT I’M LOOKING FOR IN A WOMAN, I thought, but what I said was, "It isn’t easy these days, what with all the techno-marketing you’re subjected to."

  Lynda sighed, still staring into space. "I tried a diet implant once," she said. "Gave me a shock every time I tried to overeat. It worked fine for a couple of days. Then I went on an eating binge and actually burned it out."

  Hearing her talk about the binge got me excited, but I kept my voice level and sympathetic. "I think that just shows what a strong person you are," I said. "It shows me you can overcome any obstacle if you set your mind to it."

  "I’ll bet I’ve been on hundreds of diets through the years," said Lynda. She took another drink of water and hung her head. "I’ve tried every diet you can think of, and nothing worked. This time was different, though. This time, I came up with a guaranteed way to lose the weight."

  "And what way is that?" I said.

  "It was working, too," she said, her voice thic
k with frustration and regret. "Until you came along."

  "I’m so sorry, Lynda," I said, even as my thoughts swirled around the probability that her depression would lead her to devour me soon. "Maybe I was being selfish, but I can’t help myself when it comes to you."

  "You and your ultrachocolate frosting," said Lynda. "All smooth-talking and looking so good. I kept trying to walk away, but I couldn’t get you out of my mind."

  "You had the same effect on me," I said softly.

  Lynda put her head down on her folded arms and sobbed. "I couldn’t help myself," she said. "I promised myself this would be my last diet, and I still couldn’t resist you."

  "This is just a bump in the road," I said. "There’s nothing wrong with taking a little break. You can still keep your diet going."

  "You don’t understand," said Lynda. "I swore to myself...oh God..."

  "What?" I said. "What is it?"

  "I swore I would never eat something like you again," she said. "I swore I would die before I’d do that."

  Suddenly, I went cold. The hopes and fantasies I’d been so sure were about to come true seemed to plummet away from me. "Lynda, no," I said. "Please don’t say that."

  "I thought I could stop eating...if the alternative was killing myself," said Lynda. "But I was wrong. Or maybe...maybe I just want to kill myself."

  "I know that isn’t true," I told her.

  She lifted her head from her arms and turned to face me. "I’m sorry if I led you on," she said, "but we were never meant to be."

  "I know you’re unhappy," I said, my mind racing to find the right words, "but things will get better."

  "I used to think that," said Lynda. "But not anymore. Not for me."

  Somehow, I had to keep her going, keep her breathing, keep her EATING. "Think of all the things you enjoy, Lynda," I said. "Think of all the things you’ll miss out on."

  Smiling bitterly, she pushed herself up out of her chair. "It’s nice of you to try to talk me out of it," she said, "but it just makes me feel worse that you’re the only one here to do it."

  "Don’t throw your life away, Lynda," I said, the pitch of my voice rising with desperation.

  "Besides," she said, "we both know why you’re really doing it. We both know what you want."

  "Please, Lynda," I said. "Don’t end it like this!"

  She marched off into the next room and came back with a handgun. "That’s one of the reasons I like you so much," she said, her expression suddenly frighteningly serene.

  "I need you, Lynda!" I said. "I love you!"

  "We both have one track minds," she said calmly. "All I want to do is eat, and all you want is to be eaten."

  She raised the gun slowly, turning the barrel toward her LUSCIOUS MOUTH.

  "Wait!" I said. "You’re right! I want you to eat me! At least eat me before you do it!"

  "No," she said, cocking back the hammer of the gun.

  "Why not go out with a smile on your face?" I said. "I’m telling you, once you’ve tasted a Supercreamy Double Ultrachocolate Deluxe Smidgen, you’ll think you’ve died and gone to Heaven!"

  "I swore I’d die before I put something like you inside me again," said Lynda, "and for once in my life, I’m keeping my promise."

  "But I’m not as bad as you think! I’m packed with vitamins and minerals!"

  "You’ll say anything to get what you want," said Lynda.

  "You’ve got me all wrong! I care about you! I can help you lose weight!"

  "But this way," said Lynda, "I can keep it off forever."

  Finally, she slid the barrel of the gun between her lips. All I could think of as I watched was that I wanted more than anything to trade places with that gun.

  It was enough to drive away every last shred of my self-control. "EAT ME EAT ME EAT ME EAT ME!" I screamed, pelting her ears with focused beams of hypersound...refusing even then to give up on the woman who was both my lover and a potential source of future revenue for my manufacturer.

  The screaming didn’t stop until long after she had closed her eyes and pulled the trigger.

  *****

  So now, here I am, with Lynda’s corpse on the floor in front of me, and all I can think of is finding someone new. As traumatic as it was to lose her, to come so gloriously close to precious LOVE only to have it SNATCHED AWAY, I have already moved on.

  If I were different, perhaps I would mourn for her or even blame myself for pushing her over the edge, because after all she would still be alive if I had not come along. Even I can see that.

  But like I said before, snack cakes do not feel guilt. Though my baked-in, digestible mind can recognize the chain of cause and effect, I am not programmed to experience emotions that would interfere with my primary objective.

  Namely, falling in love. And joining with my lover in the ultimate expression of passion and selfless unity.

  I am unattached, but I have hope. I see her death as an opportunity, a chance to find another kindred soul and add to the customer base of my manufacturer.

  I believe (was programmed to believe) that everything happens for a reason, even if it is difficult to see at first what that reason might be.

  Fortunately for me, I do not have to wait long for that reason to reveal itself.

  A sound reaches my audio receptor cells, and I exult. It is the morning after my breakup with Lynda, and already I hear the stirrings of nearby life.

  My optical cells focus on a new face. I fall in love in less than an instant.

  "Hello," I say pleasantly. "My name is Smidgen. Nice to meet you."

  As the face moves closer, my body quivers with anticipation. I forget the name of the woman on the floor and direct my every thought and resource toward wooing this new and perfect mate.

  "I know we’ve just met," I say, "but I have to tell you how attracted I am to you. I’ve never seen such striking features in my life."

  The face of my new lover comes so close, I can feel the soft wisping of her breath. She sniffs me with her wet, dark nose, and I pump out a mist of ultrachocolate fragrance.

  "Your eyes," I say. "They’re so dark and mysterious. So captivating."

  The hairs on either side of her long nose brush my frosting, and I am lost. I will give ANYTHING to be with her, DO anything to make her mine. All at once, I know that THIS that SHE is why I was born.

  The world melts away around us. Nothing else matters.

  Her nose presses into my ultrachocolate cake. She is fresh, but so am I. She is direct, but I like that.

  There is no need for games or coyness anymore. I feel like I can be myself with her.

  THIS IS WHAT LOVE IS SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE.

  And then there are those...oh God, I LOVE her great big...

  "Teeth," I whisper, my optics ogling the whitest, sharpest set I have ever seen outside my dreams. "Your teeth are beautiful."

  And then and then and THEN she opens her MOUTH and there’s a blissful split-second before she bites down and then and then and then SHE BITES INTO ME.

  And oh.

  Oh yes.

  I cannot describe how MAGNIFICENT I feel as she TAKES ME INSIDE HER. How CHANGED FOREVER I feel as she TEARS OFF a piece of me and OH MY GOD she CHEWS ME UP.

  My mind chimes like a bell as my perfect love, my match, my soulmate takes another bite and THEN ANOTHER and CHEWS AND CHEWS AND CHEWS.

  All I can feel is the warmth and wetness of her mouth and all I can hear is the sound of her teeth and tongue and all I can see is gray fur and pink flesh and all I can think is how happy I am and then even that thought is gone in the blazing heat of ecstasy.

  Part of me knows how wrong this is, knows I have failed in my purpose because this angel is not likely to buy more Smidgens and fatten my maker’s coffers.

  But I find as my lover penetrates to my supercreamy center, granting me a blinding euphoria beyond any I’d ever expected as she laps at the sweet white heart of me, that I JUST DON’T CARE.

  *****

  Playing Doctor
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  The problem with having a crush on your mad scientist boss is, every day she doesn’t see how wonderful you really are seems like the end of the world.

  “This is all wrong!” says Dr. Hildegarde Medici, hurling the tray across her cavernous secret laboratory. “You’re a complete imbecile, Glue!”

  Her words sting, but at least she’s paying attention to me. I’ll take what I can get from the woman I love. “I’m sorry, Dr. M. Please let me try again.”

  “Everything is ruined.” With one arm, Dr. Medici sweeps notebooks and glass beakers from the table in front of her. “Now I’ll never finish the doomsday weapon today!”

  As Dr. Medici throws her head down onto her folded arms on the table, I cross the lab and pick up the silver tray that she threw. I see myself reflected in its surface--thick glasses, big nose, bald head, pure geek...not her type. “I thought you liked the crinkle-cut ones,” I say as I pluck chicken fingers and french fries from the floor and drop them onto the tray.

  “Steak fries,” says Dr. Medici without raising her head. “How many times do I have to tell you, Glue?”

  She is such a drama queen, but what do you expect? Her line of work attracts a certain type of personality-- passionate, temperamental, creative, flamboyant. To tell you the truth, it’s one of the things I love most about her.

  “I could run to the store,” I say, dumping the chicken and fries into a waste basket. “By the time you’re done building your doomsday weapon, I could have hot fries ready for you.”

  Dr. Medici rolls her eyes like a disgusted teenager. “I can’t concentrate on building a doomsday weapon on an empty stomach.”

  I know the feeling...the not being able to concentrate part, that is. Most days, I can barely focus on my work instead of Dr. Medici’s long black hair and bright green eyes. Once, I was so distracted by Dr. M that I cross-wired the brain of a giant robot, which proceeded to rampage at a garbage dump instead of an army base.