It’s Alive
S.L. Carpenter
Copyright 2013, S.L. Carpenter
Cover Art copyright 2013, S.L. Carpenter
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my friend and partner in crime, Sahara Kelly.
She reminded me that I haven’t really played with characters and gone crazy in a while. Thank you.
I would also like to thank all the people that still read my brand of weirdness.
You fans are the best and coming up to me and remembering something I wrote that made you laugh touches me in all my special places.
Prologue
The lights flickered and popped. Electric wires dangled from the ceiling and smoke rose from the large tub of water in the center of the room.
A loud thud echoed in the room and a wet hand rose from the fiberglass bath and waved, flailing frantically in the air. The fingers grabbed at the rim and as the water dripped to the floor a woman’s voice rang out.
“Oh my fucking God…it worked. It’s alive!”
Chapter One
The constant humming echoed in the dark room. Occasionally it was muffled and then it would hum louder—followed by a moan, just above a whisper. The hum got slower and slower until it fluttered to silence.
“Damn, son of a bitch, just like a man. Thee batteries are dead again.”
Mary popped her head up from beneath the blanket and shook the long dark, flesh-toned vibrator with the little clit massage attachment and lifelike throbbing action. It buzzed and chirped a couple times then died again.
“Fuck.” She threw the toy into her nightstand and rummaged around in the drawer looking for something else. There was an array of devices alongside the vibrator. Kitchen utensils, a spatula, hand puppets, a rubber duck squeak toy, some furry handcuffs next to a large jar of petroleum jelly, and a feather duster.
Nothing would work. She had an itch that needed scratching and only a good dose of long and hard man-meat would do the job, it so she decided to go find some. Batteries would be cheaper and less of a hassle, but sometimes getting laid had to be done properly to curb a woman’s appetite. Even if it meant she had to sleep in the wet spot.
She couldn’t lie in bed anymore, being this frustrated and frisky. She was still grumpy that the batteries died in her expensive vibrator at the same time all the other batteries in the house had passed on—from overuse.
Sighing, she acknowledged that she’d never liked the whole dating and bar scene. It usually meant that the men would all be jockeying for position on the stud-meter and the women all wanted to be hit on without letting the men think they were easy.
She didn’t give a shit. She was horny, and she didn’t want to settle for just any man lingering around the bar in a depressed state of self-doubt. She would prefer the one who could fuck like a pornstar.
The pickings were slim at the local bar. Mary wasn’t a regular but could pick the douche-bags a mile away with her loser-magnet. She seemed to always be attracted to losers, so if she saw a guy and was attracted to him, bingo—he was a loser.
She knew she was an attractive woman...five foot eight inches of great curves. Some were paid for, a perfect set. And she was aware she radiated an aura of confidence that came from knowing she was smarter than most people around her.
Being a blonde had made it harder for her in school, because her peers saw blonde and thought she was dumb. Most students in her classes had no idea she was a genius. Comparisons to many brilliant minds of science and medical practice icons became routine in conversations and recommendations. Her testing scores were off the charts. She was a lethal combination of brains and a smoking hot body.
After all of her schooling and hard work, she ended up as Chief Operating Officer at the city morgue. She never had problems being around the dead, or other things associated with her job. But she spent a lot of time alone which only added to her need of a rock hard beef injection on this particular night.
The men she attracted wandered her way, dropped a few of their best lines and were dismissed as she did her bug-light impression, blowing them off like annoying moths. She did have some standards but hearing lines like, “Great legs…what time do they open?” or “My penis just died…can I bury it in your ass?” really just pissed her off more than appealed to her.
She wished that at least they could be somewhat original, or more than an orangutan with a limp dick.
“You look like you might be interested in some great conversation.” A man sat down confidently beside Mary.
He was polite, and on a scale of one to ten, she rated him an easy eight. He was tall with dark black, wavy hair touching his collar. He seemed harmless enough and wasn’t overly eager to hit on her like a dog in heat ready to hump her leg.
She decided to risk it. “If you buy me another drink we can talk.”
“I’m Peter. Nice to meet you.” He motioned to the bartender to get Mary another drink. “Not sure what you’re having, but the bartender is getting you another one.”
“My name’s Mary.” She held out her hand and he gently shook it.
They sat for a while talking about completely irrelevant things. He was charming, had a steady job and wasn’t continuously trying to flirt or say rude sexual innuendos, which meant he actually wasn’t just trying to fuck her, even though she wouldn’t mind. They liked a lot of the same things and his subtle glances at her legs and breasts were cute, letting her know he was interested in more than just talking about the weather.
After doing her standard ten point check-over, along with her routine Q and A, Mary was done talking and decided to take care of what she had come for. “You have a car?” she asked.
“Of course I do.”
“I’m not here to play games. I need to fuck somebody. The batteries died in my vibrator and I am insanely horny and need to get seriously fucked to clear my head so I can think. Are you up for it?”
Swallowing, Peter puffed out his chest like a showboating peacock, “Oh yeah, I’m the man for the job.”
“Good answer. This is a job, I expect to have three orgasms by nights end by either fingers, tongue or cock, so buckle up for the ride.”
Mary told Peter she would follow him, and he figured it was so she could make a quick getaway if she needed to. He stood beside his car jiggling his keys as she walked up.
“My place is right up there.” He motioned to the stairs leading to the building behind him.
He watched her take each step up and felt the urge to cry. Oh my God, what a beautiful ass, I can’t wait to slap that when I’m…
“I can feel you staring at my ass, Peter. It’s getting all hot.”
Standing at the door he fumbled with the keys and tried his best to look cool.
“Just relax and put it in the hole.” Mary whispered as she stood behind him.
Stepping inside, she looked around. He kept things very basic and neat. There wasn’t a lot of room but he knew she was thinking of his bed more than anything else. An evil grin crossed her face as she turned to him. Before he could say anything her hand was on his cock and her tongue down his throat.
She dropped to her knees while unfastening his pants and lowering his zipper. He opened his mouth but the words choked when she pulled his pants down to his ankles. He stumbled back against the wall and she peeled his underwear over his hard cock. She hesitated and Peter wondered if it was because of the strange arch of his cock that made it look like a banana. He’d been told it was a rather nice sized banana, so he was happy that she eagerly began to practice her sword swallowing skills. She was very talented.
Peter threw his head back and groaned. Mary was merciless and never flinched as every inch of him entered her throat. Porn actresses wo
uld be jealous of how well she pleasured him—with expertise and pure animal lust. Then she popped him free of her mouth.
“I don’t want to waste this.” Saliva shone across her red lips as she licked them. “I want to feel it buried inside me.”
She led him to the bed by his cock, pulling him along like a dog on a leash. With a tug she moved him beside the bed and pushed him down.
Standing in front of him, she teasingly pulled her panties down and they fell to her feet as she wiggled her legs. Lifting one foot she dropped the wet panties beside him on the bed. Then she gathered up her skirt to reveal a freshly shaved pubis.
Lowering her fingers between her legs, she began to rub between her swollen labia. The juices glistened on her fingers as she slid them around her pussy.
“You like that, Peter?”
Peter licked his lips and stared at her pussy. “Oh hell yes. Damn, baby you are so…”
Mary put her wet finger over his mouth, “Shhh, I want to make a few things perfectly clear. I want you quiet except for moaning before you come. I want that mouth either eating my pussy or sucking my nipples. And as long as you have condoms and can keep that great cock hard, I’m going to fuck it.”
Swallowing, Peter fell back on his bed and reached into the small nightstand drawer and pulled out a box of condoms. “I just bought a twelve pack.”
“Good boy.” She reached between his legs and began caressing his balls.
After peeling the rest of her clothes off and ripping Peter’s from his tanned body she climbed onto the bed. Peter did as she’d asked, and suckled on her erect nipples while stroking her ass and back.
Mary closed her eyes and fell into the passion between them. Her own desires took over and she stroked his cock with her palm as he toyed with her neck and breasts using only his tongue.
“Oh shit, I want you to put that tongue to work.” Mary turned on the bed and straddled Peter’s face. She always liked sixty-nine because it was the best kind of multitasking. She started frantically sucking on his cock while Peter licked and tongue fucked her pussy.
It had been so long since she had a man who knew how to eat her pussy, and didn’t act like he was painting a fence with his tongue. He grabbed her ass, spreading the cheeks apart and pressing his index finger on her anus. The pressure added to her excitement but he never slid it in, just pressed at the opening as he licked her hot pussy.
Her juices flowed as she ground against his face. He kept attacking her entire cunt and sucked on her slippery flesh and swollen clit. Her body was so excited and aroused, all of her pent up sexual frustrations welling up to a peak. She closed her eyes, lost in the moment. She needed to feel him inside her, stretching her tight wet pussy.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, grab a condom. I want to feel your cock in me as I come.” She climbed off Peter, flopping over. She giggled as he frantically ripped the condom wrapper and then watched him slide it down his hard shaft.
Mary quickly straddled him and positioned his cock between her thighs. With a hard deep thrust he filled her pussy. Her eyes closed and she felt a smile widen across her face. This was what she needed.
She moaned as she ground her pussy against Peter’s groin. Her hands rubbed his skin and her fingers ran through the light hair on his chest. She began bouncing on him, loving that hard cock plunging in and out of her inferno of sex. This feeling of a man fucking her the right way was what she desperately needed to clear her mind and stroke her already bloated ego.
She arched up and let her fingers dig into his skin. The pleasure was so intense. Having that void filled by a man was her ultimate goal. She quickly began to fuck and ride him while rubbing her clit.
The pleasure overwhelmed her. Her control began slipping away. She let herself go and began screaming and cussing loudly, his thick cock burrowing into her with each thrust. Every inch of him made her body tingle with excitement and arousal.
“Oh Peter, you fucking bastard, your cock is so fucking big and I don’t care if it’s bent. It’s rubbing my G-spot. Oh fuck, damn, shit, piss, anal fucking, dildo replacement joy, this is incredible.”
Peter groaned and closed his eyes tight.
“Oh God, don’t come yet, just a little longer, just hold it, ahhhhhhh…bingo.”
The peak of her orgasm washed over her and she grabbed Peter’s muscular chest with a loud moan. The spasms flowed through her and she could feel Peter’s bursts as he came within her tightening walls. She needed this. The release of tension, the feelings of desire, the unbridled lust set free. She really just needed to fuck a real person to get off, instead of self-servicing herself on a regular basis.
“Damn you are fucking hot.” Peter held her ass on top of him and admired her as she panted. “So you want to get something to drink?”
She grinned. “You had better keep hydrated, because I’d hate to drain you dry. We just started, stud. I hope you took your vitamins.”
Author’s Note: The sex that followed was insanely deviant. They did such bizarre carnal explorations that words in the dictionary can’t describe it. Nothing was off-limits, no holes barred, and nothing phallic in nature in the room was safe. In some states these sexual acts are illegal and require permits. Due to the publisher’s policy about animals, food, genital manipulations, and vaginal exorcisms, it has been decided that any further information, intimate details or cutting edge sexual descriptions should be withheld in order not to shock the reader. That’s why it isn’t in the story.
Chapter Two
Mary worked at the morgue adjacent to the county hospital. She was usually assigned the majority of the cases because her team was so precise and efficient. She had assembled them over time and Rob, the system manager, trusted her to run things—and still took all the credit.
Typical management asshole.
Mary was still a little sore from the celery stick and feather orgasm. But overall she was in a good mood. That was good because the next few days were a blur. She was so busy at work with meetings and going over budgets. She hated all the bullshit things she had to do, and just wanted to work and dig into her job.
Finally it was her last shift of the week. She walked into the lab and slipped, almost face-planting on a slick pool of blood on the floor. Club dance music echoed through the room and she heard a loud laughing sound that was like the mating call for squirrels and dolphins.
Inga was jumping rope.
The only problem was—she didn’t have rope. She was using the small intestines of the woman lying open on the table, a case from the night before. It was pretty gross for anyone except Inga. Mary knew she must be bored.
“Hey Inga,” Mary tossed her purse on the counter by the lockers.
Inga stopped jumping. “Don’t worry, all the tests were done. I was just waiting for you to get here. Figured you were going to be a little late. Saw your post on Facebook about dragging a little and in need of the three “C’s”.”
“You know what the three “C’s” are?”
“I may be gay but there was a time when I used to like coffee, croissants and a thick cock in the morning.” Inga started jumping rope again.
“Um, are you done with the autopsy on this one?”
“I was done a while ago. Just needed some exercise. She died of natural causes. Paperwork’s done and filed.”
Inga Skøtwyvøssendotter was Mary’s best female friend. She was actually her only female friend.
Inga was a brilliant surgeon but her height issue had always worked against her.
She was so short that she had difficulty reaching all the proper surgical tools to do her job without some kind of stepladder. It was a deal breaker in operating rooms. She had tried working in various hospitals only to finally realize she was better at forensic science, and her meticulous nature enjoyed the investigative part of the job.
It also made it easier for her to work at her own pace, because most surgeons she had known tended to be egomaniacs and would b
lackball her skills. Especially after she told them their diagnosis was wrong and hers was right. Then there was the “elbowing a few of them in the balls while they were scrubbing up” thing, which had caused some other issues—mainly an upswing in testicular surgery—and Inga had at last decided to go into forensics.
She was a black haired Scandinavian with a slight accent, and stood all of four feet tall. She was a confirmed lesbian and had permanent ankle cuffs along with a large tattoo on her lower back that read “Enter at your own risk”.
She had a serious loving crush on Mary and followed her to the hospital after they graduated from medical school. Mary needed an assistant and knew Inga would be perfect because of her special gift for internal medicine and forensic science.
They had shared a few sexual escapades in college because most of the guys weren’t always what Mary needed. Sure, it was a little selfish to use Inga’s expertise in going down on women. But she was so fucking good at it that Mary let her go down on her those few times when she was in desperate need of a good, deep, toe curling orgasm.
So after a recommendation to the Medical Board (and three blow-jobs), Inga had been hired even though she’d arrived for her interview on a moped, dressed in a T-shirt that had “Pussy, the other white meat” on it, above a pair of mini shorts.
Mary finished her last autopsy on a man who had a massive heart attack during sex with a prostitute. The handcuff marks were still on his wrists because they couldn’t find the key immediately, and the look on his face—his lips puckered and his eyes crossed—made her snicker.
“Look Inga? Remind you of anyone?”
Inga stood on her tiptoes and smiled. “Yeah, looks like Professor Ryan when he caught me going down on his wife on that big wooden desk in his office.”
Mary’s days tended to run together into a blur. She had never gone for the standard three kids, a house and a wealthy husband kind of life everyone envisioned for her. Instead she knew she was a borderline workaholic with little time for anything normal in the way of a social life.
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