Friday, October 26, 2012

FRONT END LOADER

 Gary Clifton, forty years a cop, has short fiction pieces published or pending on over forty online sites. He's been shot at, shot, stabbed, sued, lied to, and often misunderstood. He's currently retired to a dusty north Texas Ranch where he doesn't much give a damn if school keeps or not. Clifton has an M.S, from Abilene Christian University.

 
            Kobock, after forty years of dedicated hard labor and daily danger as a DEA agent, interrupted only a few thousand times when he dicked off or got some strange in the Motel Peekaboo, had finally had it.  His mainspring was gone, his eyesight screwed, and he needed a triple dose of Viagra to get old Big Wally to even look out the garage door, let alone spring to action.  Then management, ungrateful bastards that they always were, and being younger men and women one and all, told him he was through - shit canned - slam dunked.
            So Kobock was cast adrift - nobody to kill - no reason to violate some citizen's rights - and mother of hell, now responsible for paying full price for lunch or a movie.
      
      "But you gotta have an exit physical," group supervisor H. Brooks Ligon sniggered.   Ligon's primary qualification:  he lacked the sense to pour piss from a size 13 cowboy boot.  "You gotta see the pecker checker before they'll pay you that $200 a month pension," his laugh was a cross between a fatally wounded mule and ripping tin.

            So Kobock sat, and sat, and sat in the doctor's waiting room. Suddenly, a soft voice floating on sexuality: "Mr. Kapock, you're next," said the sweet young thing from the opened doorway to the inner-sanctum.  She was 22, gorgeous, with huge, blue "come do me eyes", and boobs the size of a fat boy's head struggling to escape from that tight nurse's suit. 

            "Uh...Kobock," he stammered as he squeezed between boobs and the door-frame. Up close, she smelled of lilacs.
            "Of course it is," she swished precariously top heavy, down a long hallway and ushered him into an examining room, so small he'd need to step outside to change his mind.  "Strip boy and put on that robe," she pointed to the white garment folded neatly on the examining table.  The force of her order was - or should have been - sensual, but at his age, Kobock knew any serious sexual fantasy was only  a venture into wishful thinking.  But thin he did.  "Mr. Kapock is in Room 23," he heard her say as she closed the door.

            Kobock, dedicated to order as always, pulled off his clothes and stood naked at room center.  Only then did he realize the "robe" was actually a baby diaper which wouldn't cover his ass, let alone qualify as a garment.
            Nurse all-tits burst back into the room, followed closely by Doctor Feelgood, who in the name of disorders anywhere, was a direct knockoff of Bride of Frankenstein.  Kobock instinctively covered his scrotal area with the diaper and cowered in a corner like a wet rag.

"Ah, Mr. Kapock," said Dr. Feelgood in gravel-voice authority mode.  "We mustn't be shy.  Nurse, please step out. Sometimes shy men do better if I disrobe with them."
            "Oh shit," Kobock exclaimed from his corner.

            Nurse All-tits slinked out like a rejected urine specimen.  "Now Mr. Kapock, bend over the table while I get out of these old hot clothes," the good doctor continued.
            She began shedding clothes like an orangutan in heat - which, Kobock feared, might just be the case.  He looked frantically for a window to jump out - but they were on the tenth floor.

            "Help!" cried the once valiant Kobock.  He was trapped in the closet sized room with a medically trained rapist.  "Nurse All-tits, get back in here," Kobock could be heard three floors down and a half block way.  His heart rate and blood pressure shot to critical mass.
            Preceded twenty seconds by her bust-line, nurse All-tits appeared, just like Ronald Reagan in one of those old B grade cavalry westerns nobody ever watched.  Kobock expected a bugle call.  He stood, intent on a nude break for freedom and inadvertently dropped his diaper.  Christ, trapped with no loincloth.  What could be worse? It was the end.  Could he learn to fly during a ten story drop?

            Both the rapidly becoming nude Doctor Feelgood and nurse All-tits had oddly fixed upon Kobock's vital area.  The nurse spoke first. "Look at the schlooz on this old bastard," she covered her face with a clipboard, leaving the barrier low enough to continue surveillance of Kobock's pride and joy.
            Doctor Feelgood gasped:  "...hung like a polo pony. My God look at that thing."

            Kobock looked down.  Divine music began wafting in, possibly from Heaven.  In the name of the omnipotent God of miracles throughout the universe, Big Wally had come back to life.  The combination of stress and excitement had re-charged his battery.
            "Mr. Kapock," there was urgency in Nurse All-tit's voice. "I get off in fifteen minutes, but fuck that, I'll leave right now.  I can hide you from this evil at my place."

            "I saw it first," countered Dr. Feelgood petulantly, standing lamely at room center, adorned only in  pink thong and one white medical shoe, breasts drooping to her navel.
            Nurse All-tits gave the good doctor a karate chop in the throat, followed with a full NFL field goal kick to the crotch. "Get some clothes on, Kapock," she gasped breathlessly.  I only live seven minutes away.  Here Lovie," she grabbed his member, "Let me help you hold that."

            "But what about the prostate exam?" Feelgood gurgled from the floor.
            "Die bitch," Nurse All-tits replied, helping Kobock pull on his pants.  "You won't need no shoes, baby." she said as she inserted a nimble tongue in Kobock's ear and parked one ample breast under his armpit.  "Or should I call you Front End Loader?  Just stay focused on the raunchiest porn movie you ever saw, dude."  Suddenly she turned a tender ear upward, listening carefully. "Kapock, what's that damned music?"

 

1 comment:

  1. FRONT END LOADER takes me home in my memories, this is where I came from. This is where I my heart is.

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