Bullet Through Your Face (reformatted)

by Edward Lee

  —Go back and get them!—the alien woman’s telepathic voice rocketed.— Get them and bring them to me!—

  “Fuck you and the spaceship you rode in on,” Hays replied, chucklin’. “I ain’t doin’ nothin’ ‘cept maybe bitch-slappin’ the aylights out’a ya.”

  —RETRIEVE THE COLLECTION RECEPTICALS! MY RACE CANNOT PROPAGATE WITHOUT THEM!— “Propergate this, spacecunt!” Hays grabbed his crotch and gave a squeeze. “I ain’t doin’ shit you say!”

  —Oh, yes you will . . .—

  Suddenly the Supremess’ black-crystal eyes began to glow with the same danged purple light that come out’a Mrs. Willis’ marble back the motel! Yes sir, that same evil, mind-controlin’, hypnertizin’ light!

  —You have no choice but to do as I bid—the Supremess said.

  —Step back into the egression beam, then retrieve the collection rececepticals, and bring them back to me at once—

  Hays stared, stock-still, and his voice droned: “Yes, my alien master. Your wish is my command . . .” Then Hays cut a big shuckin’ grin, and he grabbed his crotch again. “In a pig’s peehole, ya alien tramp!”

  See, Hays anticerpated this, which was why he put his mirrorfinished sunglasses back on when he went out into Doc Willis’ back yard! The light weren’t havin’ no effect on him at all!

  Then he dropped his drawers, sportin’ a typical mighty erection.

  “Hey, hosebag! If it’s cum you want, it’s cum you’ll get!” Hays hauled the stupefied alien to the ship’s floor. Then he hocked a good-sized spitter on his pole, pinned the alien bitch’s sixtoed feet back behind her ear-holes, and sunk every inch’a his pantsload right in her li’l gray alien pussy. A mite tight, it was, like real tight, yes sir, but he got ta puttin’ some serious cockstrokes on her, and it soon became obvious that she didn’t object. So little she was, though, it reminded him’a what it might be like ta fuck a kid, but . . . This ain’t no kid! he confirmed the truth. This here’s a alien overlord who’s been stealin’human spunk!

  —Ooo, ooo, what an earthling!—she said hotly. —Harder!

  Harder!—

  Hays pumped on as effectively as an oil derrick. “I’se plumb givin’ it to ya damn near hard as I can, ya otherworldly whore!” —Harder! Harder!—

  Well, shee-it. PFC Micah Hays were never one ta deny a gal her desires, even if it were a alien gal! So’s he got ta humpin’ hard as he could yes sir, whiles the hot’n horny Supremess just kept shriekin’ her orgameric bliss inta his head’n comin’ like a Peterbilt with no

  brakes. And a right good her space-pussy felt, it did, real tight’n hot’n wet like a true tramp. And just when he’s were fixin’to drop a shot’a snot like ta make a rhinoceros feel inadequate, he thought: Now wait just one dang second! Cum is just what this evil alien bitch WANTS!

  So that’s the one thang I CAIN’T give her!

  So . . . he’d give her the next best thing: the box-humpin’ of her life!

  Yeah!

  And that’s just what he done, he did. He humped the slimy alien bitch’s bones like there were no tomorrow—

  —More! More! Harder! Harder!—

  Micah Hays complied, he shore did, slammin’ her twat hard as a sledgehammer.

  —Harder! Harder!—

  And then he really turned it on . . .

  She screamed in his head, so hard she were comin’! Perhaps she were the first alien ever ta have multerple orgasms! No, Micah Hays summoned all’a his discerpline, and he did not drop his wax, but by the time he were done givin’ this bitch the kind’a hard’n fast fuckin’ she needed, she were—

  “Oops,” Hays said when he looked at her.

  The bitch were dead. That li’l cooze on her looked like a pile’a gray meat by now, with alls’a this thin gray blood leakin’ out, and then big eyes in her skull were closed, and she just lay there like a bag’a twigs . . .

  “Well, how do ya like that? I done busted her hole just like I done ta Miss Brill when I were a tot!” Shore, n’fact, Hays in his time had busted a fair share’a boxes with his giant dick, but this were the first time he’d busted a alien’s hole . . .

  Shee-it. I done fucked the bitch to death!

  Suddenly the ship began to gyrate, probably some funky guidance computer on automatic. The apergee were here’n no doubt the ship would fly back to its homeworld.

  This was one train Hays didn’t wanna be on when it left the station . . .

  He hitched back up his drawers—not easy on account’a the hard-on he still had—then stumbled back toward the middle’a the ship where he’d appeared. A white beam’a light glowed there, but it were startin’ ta get real dim real fast.

  Hays jumped in—

  —and landed assfirst in the middle’a the field behind Doc Willis’ house.

  Thank Gawd! I’se still alive! And—

  He grabbed his pantscrotch.

  —and still hard!

  THIS HERE, EPERLOG

  So the evil alien bitch was deprived of her usual rasher’a human sperm, and so was her home world—Hays neglected ta reveal that he’d plumb up’n fucked her ta DEATH and busted her box ta boot— so who knew what’d happen? Would the alien race die? Would they hang on till the next apergee’n come back fer more joyjuice? (and not that gall dern polyjuice potion, by gawd!)

  The answer: Who the hail cared?

  And as it turnt out, Majora weren’t quite the phony cooze Hays suspectered her’a bein’—well, shore, she was a lyin’ red muffed sleeze but at least she were still on our side. Only thang that happened afterward was that she hadda call some’a her cronies from the F.B.I. and they come around shortly to give Hays’n the Chief their proper “debriefing” and had ‘em sign some paper called the National Security And Classified Secrets Agreement, which would be DOD Form 1501-95, agreein’ that they wouldn’t tell no one about what they’d seed, under penalty of law provided by the United States Code, violations’a which carried a maximum sentence of life imprisonment in a federal corrections facility and a one million dollar fine.

  No big deal.

  And as far as all’a them boys from the Watch-House and all’a them old VFW tuckers—them State Health Department buses weren’t State Health Department buses at all but instead they were F.B.I. buses with phony markings!—and it was a federal medercal facility they’d all been took to, and soon enough they’se all woked up’n were just fine, and even better was they didn’t remember a dang thing, not one of ‘em! (A’corse, considerin’how much nut Mrs. Willis had sucked out’a all their peters, it’d problee be a while ‘fore any of ‘em shot a good load). Case closed, on to the next. So then Special Agent Majora thanked ‘em both’n left, wishin’ ‘em well.

  After which Hays elucidated, “Shee-it, Chief, no one’d believe us but we shore’s hail know its true. Fuckin’ aliens in league with a former scientist’s wife in a evil plot to steal human spunk, and carryin’ it away in 2-liter Coke bottles? Asassy chick FBI agent masqueradin’ as a Army officer? Special alien drugs that make guys able to shoot dozens’a load in a hour? It’s the most fucked up thing I ever heard, so fucked up it’s downright perposterous! Sounds like one’a them weirdo science fiction stories only, like, a really bad one, like maybe the author didn’t know what the fuck he was writin’ about but he wrote it anyway. Anyhows, Chief, I’m outa here, I gots me another date with Jinny Jo, and lemme tell ya—” Hays grinned and grabbed his crotch—“my pole is hard as gnarled oak! I got me some meat to put in her pantry, fer shore! I’se gonna go on over there, treat her like dogshit, fuck her, wipe my dick off in her hair, then get the fuck out and go have a few beers with the boys. Later, Chief!”

  Kinion looked up from his coffee. “Hays, wait a sec. Did you just say you hadda date with Jinny Jo?”

  “That’s a fact, boss.”

  The Chief rubbed his eyes. “Well, hail, ain’t that the gal ya tolt me about this mornin’ who hadda, well, you know—”

  “Who hadda pussy fulla gonococcal pus? Yes sir, that�
�s the same fuck-pig, Chief. Only I knows better now, so’s I ain’t gonna go down on her, no sir! I’d rather lick the bottom of a sewer grate. N’stead, I’ll’se just hold my nose’n put a double rubber on my dick’n just bust her hole like it needs ta be busted, yes sir! And I guarentee it, Chief, she’ll thank me fer it afterward.”

  Kinion waved an errant hand. He didn’t even want ta think about it. “Fine, Hays. Goes have yerself a good time.”

  Hays turned to do just that but he stopped short’a the station house doors, and he slapped his thigh hard. “Dang, Chief, I’se awful sorry!”

  Kinion’s hooded eyes flicked up without much interest. “Yore sorry ‘bout what?”

  “I never did git ta tell ya why they called Martha the Tail.”

  The Chief let out a long, exasperated sigh. “Hays, I don’t wanna know—”

  “Aw, no, Chief, I couldn’t do that to ya. A fella cain’t be tellin’ a story only ta leave off the end! That wouldn’t be proper.”

  “Hays,” the Chief stated sternly, “I don’t wanna hear.”

  “Aw, come on, Chief, I’se mean I tolt ya the part ‘bout how I was fuckin’that old whore’s pussy’n her pussy turnt out ta be fulla all these vagernul polyps’re some shit, and whatever the hail they was, it felt like I had my boner stuck in a bag’a chicken gizzards, and then I tolt how after I creamed all over them polyps, she begged me ta fuck her ass, so’s I did that too, boss, and put a big load up there too, but that weren’t all, remember? Afters that she asked me ta pee up her tired ass and, hail, I still had ‘bout ten beers in me just cryin’ta git out, so’s shore, I’se fulfilled her third request’n pulled a giant beer-piss right up her poop-chute, I did, and then—”

  “HAYS! GET THE HAIL OUT’A HERE’N THAT’S AN ORDER!” the Chief flipped’n just blew his lid.

  Majora walked back in to say goodbye now that the case was concluded. Chief asked her out but she said, “No, I’m sorry”

  “But . . . I kind’a thought you know . . . I mean, I could tell by the way you been lookin’ at me that you were . . .”

  “Attracted to you. It was all in the line of duty, Chief. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Huh?”

  “For the same reason I faked Army credentials, I faked sexual interest in you, Chief, to make you more disposed to render information, and more likely to cooperate. This was a matter of National Security.”

  So the PFC shrugged’n did as he was tolt by his supervisin’ officer. Fine, he don’t wanna hear the rest’a the story, then I’se won’t tell him. Seemed kind’a unfair ta Hays’though, ‘cos not tellin’a fella the end of a story were almost as bad as readin’, like, a novella with the end chopped off, and Hays knowed he wouldn’t like that but— fuck it! He guessed he’d just have ta save the rest’a that story fer another time, he would.

  Right?

  So’s Hays walked on out’a the station inta the middle’a the fine night. A’corse, the federal fellas had up’n took the shiny-red Mercedes along with the still-nekit’n unconscious Mrs. Willis, as well as the hyperdermic full’a alien libidinal stimurlent, and Hays imagined they done scooted Mrs. Willis’fine her bare ass off ta some government “debriefin’” facility, but, hey, that’s the way it goes.

  And what adjoined this here situation was that as Hays were leavin’, he did take one last look back into the station through the front winder, and what he saw was a sad sight indeed.

  Aw, that ain’t right . . .

  He saw the Chief still sittin’at his desk with his big kisser hangin’ over that cup’a cold coffee’n just lookin’ so dejected’n depressed, and it weren’t no surprise considerin’ how the Chief had such fierce hots fer Agent Majora but now he didn’t have nothin’ta look forward to ‘cept that beached whale of a wife snorin’ like ta wake the dead back at the Chief’s double-wide . . .

  So that set Hays ta thinkin’.

  The Chief were a good man at heart, and he shorely deserved better’n what life had dealt him so far, and when Hays glanced down to the other end’a the parkin’ lot, what he saw was this:

  Agent Majora fixin’ ta git inta her government sedan.

  And that’s when Hays got his idea . . .

  “Agent Majora!” he shouted out. “Hold up a sec if ya would!”

  Hays trotted on over, wavin’.

  “Yes, PFC Hays?” she queried, looking at him over the top of the car.

  “Just one sec!” And then Hays finished trottin’ over.

  See, there were one thang he fergot ta hand over to them feds, and it weren’t like he kept it from ‘em on purpose, he just plumb fergot.

  “What is it, PFC Hays? she asked, gettin’ a bit testy.

  Hays reached inta his pocket, then held up that neat purple marble ‘tween his thumb’n forefinger, and when he pressed against it hard enough . . .

  It began ta glow with that same dark-purple-weird-mindcontrolin’-hypnertizin’ light, and it were shinin’ right inta Agent Majora’s purdy green eyes.

  “You ain’t got no choice but ta do what I’se tell ya,” Hays tolt her. “Do ya understand?”

  Now Majora stood in a trance. “Yes,” she droned back. “I understand.”

  “Good, ya red-hairt cum-dump,” Hays said. “And you gots yerself a serious problem, see? See, Chief Kinion is the sexiest man in the world, right?”

  “That,” she agreed, “is correct.”

  “And you’re so hot fer him, yer little red-hairt pussy’s on fire, right?”

  “That is correct.”

  Hays chuckled. “So git on back in there and do somethin’ ‘bout it, ya prissy bitch!”

  Agent Majora nodded blankly, turned away from her car...and headed back toward the police station.

  Well, shee-it. The case were closed, all right, all the commotion’a the day finished and everything set back ta rights, which were a good thang, indeed, but Chief Kinion still felt a mite glum, he did. Golly, he shore had hisself a giant crush on Agent Majora, but now she were gone and he’d more’n likely never see her again.

  Oh, well, he commisserated. Least I’se can always think back fondly’n remember her . . .

  He turnt on the radio, hopin’ fer somethin’ nice’n soothin’, like maybe “Blue Moon,” by the King, but what he heard instead nearly jotled him out’a his chair . . .

  Evil, devilish, heavy-metal gee-tars crushed noise from the radio, along with’a voice like someone garglin’ with rusty razor blades. “You shit at the moment of death!” the voice screamed, “and I feast on what is left!”

  Dag hippie satanic codswallop! the Chief thought’n switched that radio off a mite quick. It was a dag sorry state’a world, when a southern fella could turn on the radio and hear that instead’a Elvis!

  Then the station house door clicked open, and in walked—

  “Agent Majora!” the Chief celebrated and damn near tipped over his desk gittin’ up.

  “Please,” she said. “Call me Dana.”

  “Uh-uh-er, well, yeah, a’corse . . . Dana,” Kinion babbled on. “So what brings ya back? Did’ja fergit somethin’?”

  “Oh, yes, Chief, I most certainly did. You see, I forgot to make love with the sexiest man I’ve ever met.”

  Kinion cocked a smirk. “Hays already left—”

  “Not Hays,” she purred. “You.”

  Well, the Chief about keeled over right then’n there when she up’n said that, but then he thought it must be some kind’a joke, ‘least until she, well, started gittin’ out’a her duds a mite fast.

  And just as fast, the Chief was pitchin’ a circus tent . . .

  She sauntered over, just as nekit now as she was when he’d seen her in the motel room but somehow even more beautiful: her flawless white skin just a’glowin’ in the office light, her red hair shinin’ like new-spun silk, and her gorgeous, dumplin’-like tits pushin’ out like they’se wanted ta be squeezed.

  “Ooooooooh, Chief,” she moaned, and then her soft hands set on his shoulders’n pushed him
back down in his chair, and then she sat her cute l’il tush down on the desk, and she was lookin’ right at him with a look in her wide green eyes that seemed to say, well . . . FUCK ME TILL I CAN’T SEE STRAIGHT!

  Her voice issued from her lips like hot, thick honey. “Chief, all day long I’ve been trying to control myself but-but, the more I find myself in your proximity, the weaker I become. I feel so ashamed being so weak in front of you—”

  Be weak! Be weak! the Chief’s thoughts bellowed.

  “—but I just can’t help it! You are without a doubt the most sexually stimulating man I’ve ever laid eyes on, and pardon me if this sounds concupiscent, but-but-but . . . I need you to fuck me till I can’t see straight . . .”

  Well, the Chief didn’t mind one speck ‘bout her soundin’ concupiscent, no sir. And he just sat there with his dick thumpin’ in his trousers’n lookin’ up at her, and then she moved one’a her purdy l’il feet up his leg’n let it set right smack-dab in his crotch, and Chief Kinion thought he might just blow a gusher’a peckersnot right then’n there. That cute l’il foot kinda fiddled down there fer a tad, as her breath gusted and her bosom heaved, and her nipples stuck out so hard he thought they might pop open’n start sprayin’ blood in his face, he did!

  “My sex yearns for your hot, pulsing manhood, Chief,” her words oozed, and then both her purdy l’il feet rose up’n hooked around his ears, which gave the Chief more than a eyefull’a her plush, perfectly formed, well . . . majora, them full soft-pink lips gettin’wet just as he looked, and that fine light-red hair tracin’ over it.

  It were a picture’a desire incarnate!

  Then her feet kinda hooked behind his head and . . . started ta pull forward.

  “But first, Chief, please, please—I beg of you—please! Lave my hot, pink honeyhole with your big manly tongue!”

  Chief Kinion sighed. Yeah, he could do that, yes sir, he could do it just as purdy as ya please, he could. Problee tasted like a l’il sugar cookie, so cute’n squeaky clean it was! Yeah, after all these years, finally—finally—the Chief were gettin’ some’a the reward he deserved fer a life’a hard work . . . He were gettin’ ta hobknob with the gal’a his dreams—oh, yeah!—with the most perfect woman ta ever cross his path!