The terror was incalculable...
...his muscular recoil unexplainable. It was like ever fiber in his frame caved in on itself in unfathomable fear for his newly anointed manhood. His arms pulled up at the elbows and hands crimped in helpless horror. His eyes pealed the lids from his skull and his mouth gaped awkwardly, jaw twisted and shoulders scrunched to his ears. And it wasn’t just that the cretin’s nose was buried in his goods, or that his teeth sneered at the bulge they were pressed against, but the sound of his sniffing and gritting and grunting, growling, snarling and snorting—
This is just a “sniff” of the scene I wrote today for Dick & Rob’s The Case of the Rotating Vestibule -- my scifi Private I comedy. It seems dark in its description of terror, but the story is really lighthearted and fun. It’s just, when some teethy, blue gremlin-looking creature has its snout in your squiggly bits, shit can’t can get a little terrifying. This is part of a hilarious scene I’m finishing up that’s been a blast to write. Keep your peepers wide for future teases, and always -- ALWAYS -- protect “the goods” from angry aliens ;- ] -cc/cm
^^ An image of how I imagine outside the “hex” looks on the planet Goriol: a failed-terraformed world that is only home to the “dregs” of the Cialzolite system. It’s sleazy, but not destitute. The top image is a lot like how I imagine the interior of the hex to be (the city where the story takes place is inside a hexagonal enclosure instead of a dome. Got switch that shit up, people; keep the concepts fresh!) -cm again
