11-Feb-2003
I take no responsibility for the following bit of insanity. Its existence is entirely due to the deranged minds of Stacy and Elyndys, and whatever the hell is in this cold medicine.
Pairings: Uh... 1x1 (masturbation, not clones), lube+1, lubex1xlube... sort of. ^^;
Warnings: Lime, weird, not exactly very polished... um... sort of death... OC? o_O;;; Just read it. I promise, you won't be traumatized. Or, not badly, anyway.
Heero Yuy was a simple boy. He always awoke at the same hour of the day; he always ate a nutrition bar for breakfast; he always wore very tight-fitting clothes (much to the appreciation of his neighbours); and he always used a basic, water-based lube when masturbating.
This lube was available in two different containers: a 35g tube, well-suited to a violent rebel, trying to get along in today's busy world; and a bottle, containing ten times the amount of substance, which was intended to be kept at home, in an appropriate drawer, cupboard, or other handy spot.
Heero owned both a tube and a bottle, and, true to form, kept the former in a pocket of his shorts, and the latter on a shelf above the toilet in Wing.
//"But wait!" I hear you shout, "There is no toilet inside Wing! There is no room for such a thing! There is no space for such a place!"
And, true enough, so it would seem. However! Months of research have clearly shown that Wing can hold up to one thousand times its capacity without discomfort to either party. A complete survey of its contents recently brought to light the existence of not only the aforementioned toilet, but also a kitchen, a bedroom, a collection of Penny Blacks; some throat sweets, some cookbooks, some dried-up ball point pens; a pencil, a notepad, a laptop (of course), and a small framed photograph of Doctor J. This is a fact, and as such, cannot be disputed.//
So! A tube of lube in the pocket, and a bottle of lube on the shelf; one for use on the run, and the other for quiet moments at home. Or at least, so it was in theory. In fact, it was always, always the tube. Whether outside or in, Heero never appeared to think of squeezing the contents of the bottle onto his palm, and smearing them over his luscious private parts, or rubbing some onto a dildo, before pushing it into the crack of his ass, and then pulling it almost all the way out, then pushing it in, and out, and in, and out, and oh, gods! The bottle so desperately wanted to be a part of that pleasure! But no. Such activities were reserved for the tube, and the tube alone. Many times had lube from the tube been in contact with Heero's wondrous penis, his sweet, sweet skin; many times had the tube been granted the opportunity to help bring its adored master to completion, and through all these occasions, the best that the bottle had ever received was a small proof of Heero's pleasure, splattered across its front.
The situation was really most unfair.
Tubes were only supposed to be used when bottles were unavailable -- tubes were Inferior Beings! -- so why did Heero always use the tube, even when the bottle was standing right by him? Had the bottle done something wrong -- had it made a mistake? If only its master would explain what it was doing wrong, maybe it could stop, make things right, and perhaps finally come into favour, and be able to fulfil its purpose of smoothing the path to orgasm. But alas! Heero had never even seemed interested in bottles; never even given the poor, neglected object a cursory glance, since its first being purchased long, long ago, a week ago at the chemists.
The bottle sighed, and moaned, and cursed (or at least, it would have, if only a bottle could), and still, it was sadly neglected by its master. So it sobbed, and cried, and sobbed some more, and still, it was ignored. Until! There came a time when Heero, feeling greatly horny, retired to his room to squeeze, and touch, and tease himself, and could not find the tube! The bottle tingled with excitement, and almost burst, so great was its anticipation of the events which would doubtless follow.
Heero took the bottle tenderly in his hands, and passionately unscrewed the lid, and then, oh alack! Oh alas! So enthusiastic was the bottle to consummate its relationship with the beloved, beautiful, fuckable master, it spurted its contents almost before said lid had been removed!
Enraged by such total lack of self-control, Heero flung the bottle to the floor, swearing never to lay eyes on it again. The bottle got one last look at the tight, tight buttocks it had so narrowly -- and, worse still, entirely through its own folly, -- missed out on caressing, as the owner stormed out through the door, and then it was left alone, its remaining lifeblood slowly leaking away, onto the soft green carpet.
And thus ends the tragic history of a bottle of lube, that loved not wisely, but too well.
End. ;_;
(:./psyche/lube)
