Page 25 of Thwack!

He walked out of the locker room whistling. All in all, it’d been a pretty good day.

Then he remembered he had another thing to feel lucky about. Coach had given him a tip. If he was looking to get his ass tapped—in more ways than one—now he knew who to call.

~~The End~~

If locker room shenanigans float your boat, check out Played, where another towel boy learns what it means to serve, not perv

Alien Intervention

MJ was taking a midnight stroll through his neighborhood when it happened. He’d been having trouble sleeping and had at first thought a wank would help, but it seemed his spank bank was insufficiently stocked because he hadn’t been able to come up with anything to put him in the mood enough to execute on said wank, so eventually he’d given up on toying with his disinterested dick and gone outside.

The moon was huge, probably what had given him insomnia. So much light. An eerie sort of light too, greenish in hue and strangely centered on him. That part must be his imagination, but it seemed like the darkness was always just ahead of him without his ever reaching it, as if he were being followed by a street lamp.

The air had a strange pulse to it. Everything felt weird and charged and vaguely hostile and he was thinking maybe he should turn around and go back to the safety of home when he realized his feet were no longer touching the pavement. He looked down at them, alarmed to see them growing ever farther away from the earth as he levitated—slowly, gracefully, and through no effort of his own—upward.

He was dreaming, obviously. He’d fallen asleep and was having a dream of insomnia that had morphed into a flying dream, except that he wasn’t flying, only hovering. He was so high now that if he were to stop hovering as suddenly as he’d started, the crash would be fatal. He flapped his arms, waving them upward like he was trying to sink to the bottom of a pool, but his efforts had no effect. Then he rotated his head so he was looking up instead of down and immediately wished he hadn’t.

That was a spaceship. A flying saucer. Genuinely saucer shaped, which meant he had to be dreaming. Real ETs surely wouldn’t build their ships like frisbees. The beam of eerie green light in which he was caught originated from an opening at the center of the saucer, and he was headed straight for it.

He flapped his arms harder. Then he flipped himself upside down with the thought of being able to swim downward, but that left him staring at the ground, which would really, really hurt if he landed on it from this height, so he changed his mind and faced upward again. The closer he got to the portal from which the light emanated, the faster he seemed to move, until he was sucked up into the ship in a final terrifying rush.

“Greetings.”

The robotic voice had him spinning wildly, looking this way and that for its source. He was in what appeared to be an airlock. Alone, as far as he could tell.

“Do not be alarmed.”

Well, that was fucking impossible.

“We mean you no harm.”

That was what aliens always said and then boom, explosions. Cities destroyed, humans in chains.

“We are a scientific expedition from the nearby planet George.”

George? They’d named their planet George?

“We have arrived on your planet for purposes of collecting biometric data from all its species. Once we have collected the necessary data, you will be returned safely to your point of origin.”

Oh, they were that kind of alien. The probing kind.

MJ’s dick, which had been previously uninterested despite having been shown a wide variety of porn, decided it might be interested after all.

Quit that, he told it. I don’t want to be probed by aliens.

His dick didn’t believe him.

“Atmospheric pressure stabilization having been achieved,” the robotic voice said, “our delegation will now greet you.”

A door slid open at MJ’s back. He whirled to face it, then jumped like a cat that had just stepped on a snake.

Aliens!

Two of them, vaguely humanoid except tall and skinny with white, hairless skin that shimmered iridescently. They had long, bony fingers—though only three per hand—and giant domed heads comprised mostly of eyes. Four eyes each, arrayed in a semi-circle around a couple of small openings that must be their nostrils. Their eyes were huge and black and their mouths, below the round puncture of nostrils, were small and lipless. More like a slash than a mouth.

One of the aliens did something that might have been a smile. MJ didn’t even try to smile back.

“I’m Chief Medical Officer Gabu,” the alien said. “My pronouns are he/him. And this is Doctor Hilu, who also uses he/him pronouns. He’ll be conducting your exam.”