**************************************************************************** Robin + Impulse MiSTed by Sizer-chan *** WARNING! The following MiSTing is rated NC-17 for moderate profanity and descriptions of sexual acts. Please use discretion. *** Send all questions, comments, criticism, and rants to sizer@thedoghousemail.com. Thank you. Now on with the show. [Theme Song] [1...2...3...4...5...6...thunk!] [SoL Bridge. Mike and the bots are standing in their usual spots behind the counter.] Mike: Hi, everyone, welcome to the Satellite of Love. Mike Nelson here, and these are my two automated buddies, Tom Servo and Crow T. Robot. Crow: So, Mike Nelson, former employee of Happy Temps and current viewer of bad movies, Usenet postings and other such trash, when do you suppose that Pearl Forrester, the mad scientist seeking vengeance on you for the wasted life of her son, and her two sidekicks, Professor Bobo, the devolved simian scientist, and Observer, the irritatingly omnipotent alien, will send us the next movie and or fan-fiction and or Usenet posting and or manuscript of some ilk, which we will have to suffer through in the name of her twisted unethical pursuit of knowledge? Mike: [clearly dumbfounded, tries to respond] I...uh...that is... [Collects his thoughts] *What*? Crow: [losing his nerve] Um...y'know...Pearl and what she does...and how she...does...it... Mike: Uh, Crow, buddy, you lost me at the first clause back there. Tom: [to Mike] Wait a sec. I think I know what's going on. [to Crow] You're trying to provide exposition, aren't you? Crow: [sniffling a little] Well...yeah! I mean, Mike always gets to do it and he never lets me... Mike: Aw, Crow, why didn't you tell me you wanted to do the exposition? I'd have let you do it, and I could have given you some pointers... Crow: [sulking] I *don't* need your stupid ol' pointers. I know how to do this. Tom: [chortling] Uh-huh, yeah. It really shows. Mike: [patting Crow on the shoulder] Now, hush, Tom. He did very well for his first time out. Crow: [jerking away from Mike, sobbing] Don't touch me! Tom: Yeah, way to ease people into the series, Mr. Obvious. Choke! Choke! [Crow runs off stage, wailing loudly.] Mike: Tom, you didn't have to rub it in like that. [Following Crow] It's okay, Crow. All you have to do is snip some of the backstory, and you'll do fine next time! Tom: Pansy. [The castle light starts flashing.] Uh-oh. Hey, Mike? Mike!! Granny Goodness is calling! [Tom hits the button with his dome.] [Castle Forrester. Painfully loud rock music is blaring in the background. Pearl is standing in the foreground, obviously tired and irritated] Pearl: [clearly yelling at the top of her lungs] nelson? hey! can you hear me up there? i’m watermelon cantaloupe my voice here! [SoL. Mike is trying to comfort Crow, who's sobbing into his chest.] Mike: Mrs. F? Can you turn down the noise? I can barely hear you! [CF] Pearl: rutabaga rutabaga watermelon! those idiots brain guy and cantaloupe watermelon having some insane grudge match! apparently bobo was listening to kiss when brain guy wanted to listen to rush, and...well...watermelon rutabaga from there. [SoL] Tom: Is that 'Cygnus X-1' and 'Rock And Roll Hell' being played at maximum volume and at the same time? Crow: [sniffling, breaking away from Mike] Hey, what's up with Pearl? Mike: Uh, I think Bobo and Observer are having a battle of the geek bands...and Pearl's making a fruit salad. [CF] Pearl: so, anyway. as you all cantaloupe cantaloupe, my misery is your rutabaga. watermelon watermelon cantaloupe cantaloupe 'robin + impulse' feel the pain! [turns away from the screen] brain guy! get your cantaloupe over here! Observer: [stepping in from the side] What *is* the problem, Pearl? I'm trying to show that devolved metazoan the meaning of artistic merit! Pearl: you can rutabaga cantaloupe rutabaga[double take] how'd you do that? Observer: Why, whatever do you mean? Pearl: [starts to say something, then thinks for a bit.] never mind. just send the cantaloupe watermelon, cantaloupe? Observer: As you will. [Brain Guy sound effect.] [SoL] Tom: Mmm, sounds like a tasty salad. Crow: Maybe she'll send some up here. Pearl loves us. She's our friend. Mike: [making a face] I'd rather she didn't... [as lights and buzzers go off] OHHH, WE’VE GOT CANTALOUPE SIGN!! [6...5...4...3...2...1...] [SoL theater. The guys enter, stage right, and sit as usual.] Tom: 'Cantaloupe sign?' Mike: Hey, I didn't hear what it was. >From: mazer114@hotmail.com >Subject: New Story: "Robin+Impulse" Crow: Huh boy. It's a story, guys. Strap in. Mike: You know, I always like titles that cut right to the chase and tell you what they're all about. Tom: You mean like 'Artemis' Lover' and "The Eye of Argon?" Mike: [pause] Forget I ever said that. > (t/t) (j/o) Mike: Triple trouble? Juvenile offense? Tom: Totally trashed? Joviality over? Crow: Tender tortillas? Just olestra? Mike: Um, story? Little help? > (comic book) >Date: Mon, 01 Dec 1997 22:59:25 GMT >Approved: moderated.stories@bigfoot.com Mike: Here at bigfoot.com, we like our stories in moderation. >Robin+Impulse t/t, j/o, comic book Mike: Yes, yes, we know. Tom: No we don't! What do those letters mean?! Crow: I have a feeling we'll find out long after we've stopped caring. Tom: Or right before we get violently ill. > To whom it probably doesn't concern, the following is a story of >consensual sex between teenaged males, Mike: Oh, sex. Perfect. Looks like we're in for another lemon-- Tom: Hey, I think I know what the author's talking about in the tagline. Robin and Impulse are superheroes in the DC Universe, so-- Crow: A Young Justice lemon, eh? That's different-- All: [pause] GAH!! > if you are under 18 or offended >by this type of material, please don't read, stop her, Crow: Oh, we've tried, man! Believe me, we've tried! Mike: Pearl Forrester is inhuman! How can she keep sending us this stuff? Tom: Robin and *Impulse*...in the name of everything holy... > to continue is a >violation of state and federal law. Good, now, since we ALL know no one >under 18 could POSSIBLY had ignored such a stern warning, Crow: We do? > let me just >say that I IF, by some COSMIC COINCIDENCE, someone under 18 is current >reading this, Mike: ...then go to bed without your supper, you little hooligan. Tom: [sarcasm sequencer] OH, is the GREAT Mazer114 going to FAVOR us with his MARVELOUS fanfic? > go ahead, with my blessing. Crow: He's ordained in the Church of Our Lord of Bizarre Relationshippers. > If you're gay, or bisexual, or even THINK you may be, I can onyl give >you this advice; don't shut that part of you away. Mike: It'll get really smelly if you don't use it up in a few weeks. > I did for a long >time, and I din't come to terms with my bisexuality until I was seventeen, Crow: What a wimp. I still haven't come to terms with his bisexuality, and I'm fine! > and >I regret those years I lost. Shame is not something you can feel, Mike: I think he's just talking to Crow now. Crow: Hey! Don't you start on me! > it can >only be pushed on you by others, if you refuse to accept it's power, than it >has no power over you. Crow: Right on, brother! Tom: Say it proud! Mike: Wish I'd met this guy before Catholic school. > These very laws that I have to sandwich this >statment between- they are an abuse, a shameing tool. Tom: So don't let them near any wire hangers. > Their origional intent >was not to keep you from exploring who you are in the pursuit of a happier and >more emotionally stable individual Mike: Like, say, Deepak Chopra or the Dalai Lama... Crow: 'Cause it *sure* as heck ain't gonna be you... > (part of the bill of rights BTW), they >were intended to protect kids from exploitation, a purpose I fully agree >with, even if I think it's application has strayed. Tom: They're now used to protect exploiters from kids! Those lil' buggers can seriously kick some shins! > Lst I have to say, Mike: Lst. There. I feel better now. > if >you're not sure, who or what you are, that's ok. Don't feel the need to put a >label on yourself, to do so limits you and burdeons you immeasurably. Crow: I'm hep to that! Hey, guys! I'm no longer a robot! I'm a...um...ferret. Tom: Jolly good for you. >Find Peace, that's- that's the last requirment I place on reading this. Tom: Here, Peace! C'mere, Peace! [Whistles as if calling a dog] Well, I guess we'd better go. Mike: Nice try. Tom: Dang. > Just >promise- try, find peace with yourself, with others, with the world. Mike: Okay. Has everyone made peace with themselves? Bots [monotone]: Yes. Mike: Has everyone made peace with the world? Bots [monotone]: Yes. Mike: Has everyone made peace with others? Bots: [silence] Tom: Hmmm...hey Crow, you never returned my set of Calvin Klein Holiday Collectors' Edition jockey shorts, did you? Crow: Uh...actually, I think I used them as dust rags last week... Tom: You WHAT?!? Mike: I'll interpret that as a definite lack of 'peace with others.' > Thank >you. The characters portrayed herein are copyrighted by DC Comics, the >author uses them without permission. Blah Blah Blah, yadda yadda >yadda, you've heard it all before. Mike: Actually, we haven't gotten that many DC fics. Crow: What about the last two Batman movies? Tom: Those weren't DC. Those were spawned in the bowels of Hell. Crow: Actually, I did kinda like the set design... Tom: WHAT did you say?! Crow: N-Nothing... > Background and Dramatis Personae Tom: Ooh, Latin. Maybe the rest of this story will be in ancient Sanskrit. > TIM DRAKE is the third person to hold the Robin mantle. Crow: [Robin] Heeey, why does this smell like...? Oh, GROSS!! > He is 14, has >black hair, buff but slight, and very hot. Mike: That's a very complex hairdo. It's gotta be tough to style. > If you don't know who Robin is in >relation to Batman... where exactly have you been hiding for the last 50 years? Tom: Never finding out about Joel Schumacher, you lucky little antisocial hermit, you. > BART ALLEN's a.k.a. IMPULSE's story is a bit more complicated. Crow: Let's just say that no one mentions poodles around him. Ever. > He is >the grandson of Barry Allen (the 2nd flash who had the TV series back in >'90) born in the 30th century. Mike: Barry had a TV series in the '90s, but Bart was born a thousand years later? Tom: We can explain it later, if you want. Mike: No thanks, guys. I'm still coming down from that manic-depressive bout I had when you tried to tell me about the 'Spider Clone' saga. Crow: Oh, come on... Mike: No. Tom: But we want to! Mike: Thanks, but no. Crow: All right, if you'd rather live in ignorance... Mike: Can I? Please? > Because of his family tree, Tom: Bart was cursed with frequent pollen stains and numerous bird nests in his hair. >Bart was born with both super speed and an accelerated metabolism that caused >him to age at 7 times the normal rate (i.e. at 2 he looked like he was 14) At a >young age Bart was hooked up to a Virtual Reality simulator to keep him >stimulated (basically he grew up in a giant video game) Crow: Which actually might not have been too bad if the video game in question wasn't "E.T." > When the system went >down, his relatives had no choice but to send him back to the 20th century >where Wally West (Flash #3) corrected his metabolism. Tom: [Wally] Hold still, wouldja!? Mike: [Bart] YEEEOWWWW!! Tom: [Wally] There! Now, if that metabolism gets out of whack again, you call me, all right? Mike: [Bart, weakly] Owww... Tom: [Wally] Wait a second, it's starting to slip again. Here, I'll fix it... Mike: [Bart] GAAAHH!! No!! > To cut a long story >short, he now lives in Alabama with his "uncle" Max Crandall, Tom: Nudge nudge, wink wink, payin' off the Child Welfare people... > actually a >retired super-speedster who's training Bart. Bart is also 14, looks younger, >big brown hair, bigger feet. (I'm serious, this is a distinguishing >characteristic!) Crow: Saaaay... Mike: Oh, that couldn't have been what he meant! Crow: We'll see. > Bart is, true to his moniker, very impulsive, it comes from >his upbringing. Think the kid from 3rd Rock on speed, culture shock. VERY >hot. Tom: He should be, if he lives in Alabama. Crow: It could be worse. He could live in Louisiana. That way he'd be hot and we'd have to put up with a crummy Cajun accent for the rest of the fic. Mike: Oh, like we haven't done that before. > (If you want to know what this guy looks like, Tom: ...I managed to get some decent Polaroids when I was stalking him... > I recommend picking up an >issure before #25 for this one, the current artist is excellent, but Humburto >Ramos, the defining artist for this character has to be seen to be believed) Mike: Yep. I didn't believe him till I saw him either. Turns out he's a pixie. > The story so far: > The comic Robin+ was a 1 shot team up with Impulse published in >December 96. Tom: Trapped in the savage wilderness with a revolver and a single bullet, Robin literally had one shot. And with Impulse bearing down on him, the hunter had become the hunted! Who would survive? Crow: Now that I'd pay $2.50 for. > The plot begins with both Tim and Bart staying at the Lonesome >Pines Lodge, a ski resort out east. Mike: Famous for its heart shaped tubs and gift shop stocking "Body Butter." > Robin and Impulse shut down a band of terrorists called White >Heat with the help of a woman metahuman called Mystral. Tom: Actually, she didn't help them with the terrorists, but she did show them how to get out of the Channelwood Age. Mike: Oh, yeah. That's a tough one. > Robin has figured out Bart's secret identity (The big hair/big >feet thing I was talking about) while Bart still doesn't know who Tim >is. Mike: Bart's dumber than a sack of hammers, then? Crow: Well...you see, he...virtual reality, and he never...and in school he...yeah, pretty much. > (It's gonna be kinda hard to avoid Bart finding out, they're the only >two lost in the blizzard, you think he's not gonna hear the other student's >name when they're rescued?) Mike: That's assuming that they don't use their powers to get back before they're rescued. Tom: Two teenage boys making their way to a safe haven through a raging blizzard with no injuries whatsoever? C'mon, that's like holding up a neon sign saying "Hi! I'm a metahuman!" Mike: So dying in the wilderness would be the better option? Tom: Anything to protect the Flash and Batman legacies. Crow: Priorities, Mike. Priorities. > Anyway, there's a blizzard, they're a long way >from the lodge, and Bart's super-speed ain't worth jack in snow. it's >already been set up that there are a number of line cabins set up for lost >hikers in the mountains and our story begins about thirty seconds before the >comic ends... Tom: So we'll just be shamelessly ripping off the last few pages of the comic. Thank you. Mike: And now, our story. >And finally, All: [groan] > ( I preach before ALL my stories, don't worry) this story >is Karma ware. If you read it, like it, use it, whatever- perform a random >act of kindness for me. Tom: [Mazer114] And if you don't like it, then go throw a baby to the crocodiles. Mike: Now, Tom, that's a very noble sentiment. And besides, who says it'll be that bad? Tom: You're just upset because we don't have a baby to throw. > I haven't spoken to God in 3 years for my own >reasons, and I'm not going to break that particular cycle now. Maybe by >spreading good karma I can save the world, and myself. Crow: Keep dreaming, pal. Tom: This guy's trying to save mankind through naughty fanfic? Mike: It worked for Sailor Mac. > -Mazer114 Tom: May his dreams be haunted with visions of the Creeper and Jonah Hex doing the nasty. Crow: For all you know, they are. Tom: True. >Robin + Impulse > Part 1 (of 1) All: [huge, collective sigh of relief] > Robin stepped out into the cold night, Impulse in step behind him, "She > >may be gone, but I have a feeling our paths will cross again someday." Tom: That's unusually deep for Impulse. Crow: No, no, no. This is the end of Robin Plus #1. Robin’s talking now. Mike: Mazer114 might have the decency to tell us this. If I’m gonna spread karma for this guy, I want some specifics. > Bart made a rude noise, "You wish." Mike: Woah! That's some rude noise! Tom: It's all in the lips. > "Knock it off." Crow: [Bart] Now? Here? In front of all these Tom: [Robin] I meant, stop talking. Crow: [Bart] Oh. I knew that. > Together they headed off south, more or less the direction they'd come >from, the snow began to fall heavily. Crow: So...the snow was falling from the direction they'd come from? Tom: [Bart] Robin? Do you ever feel...unfresh? > Bart griped, "More snow, great. If I >can't run this is going to be a l-o-o-o-ong walk back" Mike: [Bart] For me, at least, after I kill you and steal your utility belt...damn! Did I say that out loud? > "Deal with it-- We're on our own. Crow: [Robin] Well, I will be, after I kill you and burn your hair for warmth...damn! Did I say that out loud? > We can't go to the military without >raising more questions than I want to answer. Tom: [Bart] Really? I thought they had that "don't ask, don't tell" thing... > And I'm not sure I can explain >Mystral." Crow: [Robin] Especially the way she insisted that we wear dog collars when she was working with us! What was that all about? Mike: [Bart] Aw, c'mon! She was cool! I'd never have been able to get the ship out of that dumb fountain without her! > Bart smiled and began to sing in a warbling off-key voice, Mike: [Bart] MMM-bop... Bots: NOOOOO!! > "Again with >the girl. Robin and Mystral sitting in a tree..." > Robin made a face. Crow: With a paper bag and a crayon. Tom: [Robin] Hey, Bart, guess who I'm supposed to be! Mike: [Bart] A guy with a bag on his head? Tom: [Robin] You are a twit, aren't you? > "K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" > "Whatever you say Bart." Crow: [Bart] EEEE!! Wait! I was kidd-MMRPHH! > "Hrumph, cold makes Robin grumpy." > Robin rolled back his eyes under his mask, Tom: Eeewww!! Mike: That takes flipping your eyelids to a whole new level. > "I'm not cold." It was >true, his suit had battery powered thermal filaments built in. > "You're not?" Bart stopped, forcing Robin to stop too. Bart grabbed >Robin's All: GYYAAAHH!! > glove, All: Phew... > "Hey, you're right! You're all toasty!" Crow: [Bart] Toast! You've been holdin' out on me, you bastard!! Mike: [Robin] Don't come near my toast, freeloader! Tom: The boys never saw the nearby cliff in their frantic struggle. They plummeted to a gruesome death on the rocks below. The end. Crow: Phew. Let's go. Mike: Nice try. Crow: Dang. > Bart grabbed Robin >and pulled him close, absorbing his heat. Tom: Oh, God, no!! Not now! NOOOOO!! Crow: [Shang Tsung] It has begun... > For a moment Robin was dumbstruck, all he could see was Bart's head >resting on his chest with icicles forming in his hair. "Hey! Get off of me!" Tom: [Robin] Damn icicles!! They want to suck my blood, I just know it!! >Robin pried Bart loose who plopped backwards into the snow. Tom: Well, if you don't know, don't look at us. > Bart looked hurt, Mike: [Robin] Gee, I wonder why Bart's leg is bent the wrong way. Oh well. > "What was that for? You're all warm and I'm all >cold." > Robin massaged the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. > >"I know Bart, but my suit's heaters have less than 20 minutes of power left >and we can't just sit here warming you up." Tom: [Robin] I think you'd be less gamy if you were served chilled. > Bart popped back up so suddenly that Robin nearly fell backwards in >response. "Cool, Crow: Gee, you're only in the middle of a driving blizzard. You THINK? > so what do we do?" > Robin didn't know weather to laugh or cry. Mike: So when the weather started shrieking with maniacal laughter and weeping, he nearly wet his tights. > For all the shit he'd heard > >about teenagers believing they were immortal, he'd never believed a word of >it 'til he met Bart Allen. Tom: He couldn't help but wonder why Bart kept talking about this "Quickening" business... > No concept that they might die, just 'what's >next?' Mike: [Bart] So, what's next? Tom: [Robin] We die. Mike: [Bart] Oh. Then what? Tom: [Robin] Well, depending on what you believe, we either pass into the void of non-existence, or we're sent to an afterlife and judged for our lives by a remote, uncaring, and hypocritical Supreme Being. Mike: [Bart] So...we're gonna miss "Win Ben Stein's Money"? >"I suppose we could head for one of cabins they keep in the mountains for >stranded hikers, I noticed in Mystral's room a map showing one about half a >kilometer from here." Crow: [Robin] I didn't tell you when I saw it because you were picking your nose. That just disgusts me. > "Can we make that in 20 minutes?" > Robin looked up, the driving snow obscured the sky, there was just >white everywhere, eliminating any concept of up or down. Mike: And if they had to fly to the cabin, that would mean something. > "Not in this weather. >But it'll be close enough." > They found the cabin thirty-five minutes later. Tom: Unfortunately, some lost hikers who found the cabin thirty-four minutes later kicked them out as soon as they set foot inside. > Robin forced to door to the cabin easily. It was dark inside, >fumbling, he reached for the flashlight in his belt. Bots: AAAIIIIEEE!! Mike: [Robin] Whoops! Sorry, folks. Bart, wrong cabin. > The one-room cabin >sprung into sharp relief, Crow: OW! My eye! > a couch, a wood stove, table and chairs, and a blessed >fireplace. Tom: The cursed fireplace was in another corner, last night's sacrifice to Cthulhu still smoking in its depths... Mike: [Bart] Hey, what are all these weird pictures of goats and stuff on the floor? Crow: [Robin] Ummm... Mike: [Bart] And what's the deal with that picture of the guy with the dog? Crow: [Robin] Bart... Mike: [Bart] Hey, maybe the guy with the big knees can tell us... Crow: [Robin] Come on, Bart... > As Robin busied himself about starting a fire, Bart explored. Crow: [opens his beak] Mike: NO. Crow: [closes his beak] >He uncovered about a months worth of canned food, Mike: Tragically, it was all potted meat food product and Veg-All. Tom: [Robin] Where's the can opener? Crow: [Bart] D'OHH! > blankets, plus oil for the >lamps. He peered into the bowl of the oil lamp uncomprehendingly. "I don't >get it." Mike: [Robin] Well, we'll have to get you a subscription to the Washington Post later. Just hand me the matches, will you?! > Robin sighed and lit the lamp, then he used a small amount of the oil to >get the fire going. Before long, they we're both sitting in front of a >crackling fire, greedily sucking All: GYAAAAHHH! > up it's warmth. All: Phew... > Robin put down his cell >phone in disgust. Tom: [Robin] Damn 900 numbers! Always raising their rates!! > It had picked up a bullet in the fracas back at the White Heat >camp, probably saving his life, and was in pieces. Crow: [Robin] Oh, Bart, we can't call for help! It's hopeless! Tom: [Bart] It's okay, Tim. I'm here for you. Crow: [Robin] Hold me! Mike: Guys, stop, please. That's coming all too soon. > He might be able to >repair it, but it would take days. Mike: [Babs Bunny] Well! Isn't that conveeeenient? > "Hey Robin?" > "Yeah Bart?" Tom: [Bart] Do you ever feel unfresh? > "Can I know you secret identity?" Crow: Sure, genius, remember the kid you met on the ski lift this afternoon? The one who looked and sounded EXACTLY LIKE ME? I'm his cousin. > "No!" Bart had been asking the same question all night. > "Oh." Mike: [Bart] Is this where I hold a knife to your throat and force you to tell me? > Bart stared listlessly into the fire, Crow: [Bart] Oh, damn...where's that list, already!? I need some better pick-up lines! > he'd been frozen on the way here >and now he was warm, it made him sleepy. Bart yawned. > Robin yawned, he hadn't realized how tired he was. > Bart yawned again. > Robin yawned again, stretching his arms behind his back. > Bart yawned again. Tom: **Intense** **yawning** **action**!! > "Will you stop that!" > Bart shook himself out of his stupor and looked up, "what?" Mike: [Robin] You were picking your nose again! I hate that! > "Don't you know yawning like that is contagious?" > Bart blinked, still not quite awake, "Sorry, I'm tired." > "Then go to sleep." Tom: [Robin] Yes, Bart. Sleep. SLEEEEP!! Crow: Oh, not again. > "Ok." > "I don't suppose you brought a change of..." > Bart was suddenly above Robin, completely nude, handing upside down by >his ankles from a rafter, fast asleep. > "...clothing." Mike: That...was...sudden. Tom: Uh...he could sleep in his costume... Crow: And Bart does have enough social graces to be wary of nudity in front of a near-stranger... Mike: Well, it started innocuously enough... > Robin marveled. He'd seen Bruce sleep that way once, Crow: Wait...ROBIN saw BATMAN sleep NAKED??? Tom: AAAAAAAAAHHHH!! YOU'RE EVIL, FANFIC, EVIL!!! AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!! Mike: No no no, wait! I think he meant that he saw Batman sleep upside down! Tom: [sniveling] F-fully clothed? Mike: Tim would probably have turned him in to the Gotham PD if he wasn't. >it was an endurance test, Bart apparently did it for fun. Crow: Or maybe he's just trying to get his nasal spray to work. > Then his eyes were >drawn to Bart's most prominent feature. Bart's Mike: Hair? Tom: Feet? Crow: Nervous tic? Mike: Third nipple? Tom: Insane Clown Posse tattoo? Crow: Off switch? > slender unerect penis All: Oh. [long pause] GYAAAAAAHHHH!!! > >traced a gentle curve from his crotch, past his belly button and lay flat >against his abdomen. Four and a half inches unaroused. Impressive for a 14 >year old. Tom: Uh, yeah, I'd say. Crow: I guess the pump really worked for Bart! Mike: [starts to say something, then stops himself] >"Well, I guess a thousand more years of selective breeding does something to a >gene pool." Mike: Something that should've been skimmed. Crow: Studlier teenagers through eugenics! > Robin slowly stripped off his uniform, Tom: ["bomp-chicka-wow-wow" music] > leaving only his mask and >boxers. Mike: Oh, cute. I bet they had little Batman logos all over them. Tom: How can Robin wear boxer shorts under those tights? They'd get all wrinkled. Crow: Besides, he already wears his underwear outside his tights. It's superhero protocol. Mike: That is pretty silly, isn't it? > He gathered a few of the emergency blankets and made a bed on the >couch. As he lay down, he noticed that Bart was hanging directly above him, >but there was nothing to be done, the couch had remained undisturbed for so >many years that it had permanently adhered to the floor. Mike: The frat boys who had used the cabin before them got a little loopy with some Krazy Glue one night... Crow: Oh, right. That has setup written all over it. What next, a hidden cellar with a fully equipped dungeon? Tom: Ssshhh! Don't give anybody ideas! > Robins eyes lingered >on Bart's cock, flickering in the firelight, Mike: That's just gonna be a nasty burn... Crow: [Robin] Hey, Bart, can I put some aloe vera on that for you? Tom: [Bart] NO!! > before falling into a deep >sleep. Tom: [as Mike picks him up to leave] SLEEEEEP!! Crow: [getting up to go] Will you quit that?? [1...2...3...4...5...6...thunk!] [SoL Bridge. Tom has a computer set up and is gazing intently at the screen, chuckling to himself now and again. Mike walks up to him.] Mike: Hey Tom, whatcha lookin' at? Tom: This web site, Mike! I managed to find the archive that today's fanfic comes from. Mike: [reading off the screen] "Nifty Erotic Stories Archive"? Tom: Yep. You know, ordinarily I try to stay away from sites like this, but curiosity got the better of me. And besides, with a title like that, who could possibly resist, right? Mike: Oh, I don't know about that. Tom: Oh, come on, Mike! It's "Nifty!" [Crow walks on screen, whistling loudly. He is suspended upside down from the ceiling.] Crow: [loudly] Hiya, fellas!! Mike: [offhand] Hey, Crow. [to Tom] So what kinds of stories do they have on here, anyway? Tom: [cheerily] Oh, you name it and they've got it! Why, I never knew you orgos had such kooky fantasy lives! Crow: Ahem. Hell-O, guys. Tom: Hi, Crow. [to Mike, blithely] It's a scream, Mike! You really oughta read some of these! They're terrific!! Mike: Oh, thanks, Servo, but I'm not really into that... Tom: [still insanely cheerful] Oh, Mike, don't be a stick in the mud! Read one! Come on, read one!! Crow: Oh, guys?? Yoo-hoo!! Mike: Thanks, Tom, but no. Tom: [creepy] Please, Mike? They're fun. You'll love them. Mike: [slightly nervous] Well, uh...gee, I really don't feel like... Crow: Guys?? Hey!! I'm upside down! Tom: [creepy] But, Mike. I need you to. And it would make me really happy. Mike: Oh...well...just a couple, I guess... [Mike leans over to look at the monitor. Suddenly, Gypsy rushes in.] Gypsy: MIKE!! NOOOOOO!! Tom: [turns to Gypsy, hissing] Away from him, temptress! His soul is mine!! Crow: Hi, Gypsy! Look at me! Gypsy: Mike, stop!! I know what he's reading!! Don't listen to him!! [Mike backs away from the computer as Gypsy dashes back off stage.] Tom: Come on, Mikey! Since when have you listened to her?? Just read the story. It'll be so cool. Mike: Servooh, God, what's happened to you? Crow: Um, guys? Upside down robot here! Tom: [sinister] You can't resist, Mike. Look at the screen. Look closer. Feel the darkness as it penetrates your soul. Thrill to the embrace of nothingness as it tears your free will away. Join me. Join me, Mike, join me. Mike: No! No!! I'll never be like you, foul servant of the dark!! [Tom hisses and advances on Mike, who is cringing away. Suddenly, Gypsy rushes back in with a bucket in her mouth, the contents of which she splashes on Tom. Tom shrieks in agony and falls to the floor, sputtering.] Mike: Gypsy! What...was that? Gypsy: [grimly] Holy water, Mike. It was the only way. Crow: Hi, Gypsy! I'm upside down, you know! Mike: [to Gypsy] But...why? Gypsy, tell me...what was Tom reading? Gypsy: [dramatic pause] Hanson lemons. [Mike stares in horror, then slumps to the floor in a dead faint.] Gypsy: Phew. That was too close. [Gypsy wanders off screen, leaving Crow alone.] Crow: Um, Gypsy? Servo? Mike? I'm upside down!! [whining] Come ooooon, pay attention to meeeee!! [pause] Oh...for the love of... [sirens go off]...FANFIC SIGN!! AAAAGGGHH!! [rushes off stage] [6...5...4...3...2...1...] [Crow walks in and takes his seat. After a few seconds, Mike comes in, carrying Tom.] Mike: Man, that could have been a disaster. Tom: Ooh, my head...hey, Mike? What was I doing before I lost my memory back there? Mike: You don't want to know, Tom. You don't want to know. Crow: I was upside down, guys. Mike: Whatever you say, sweetheart. > Robin awoke to the feeling of something wet on his face. Tom: Suddenly, the roof collapsed under the weight of the snow, killing both boys. The end. Mike: Wow, all of a sudden I got this incredible feeling of nameless oncoming dread. Crow: Same here. Mike: Huh. How odd. > Groggily, he >wiped his face with his hand. Where was he? Oh yeah, White Heat, Bart, the >cabin. Crow: Cheese, waffles, Tommy Lee Jones, an Alan Smithee film... Mike: It's so weird. For some reason, I feel like I should be cringing behind my seat about now. Tom: I feel the same way! What a coincidence! > Robin sat up. He looked uncomprehendingly at his hand. Mike: [Robin] OH MY GOD!! AAAAGGGHHH...oh, wait, it's just my hand. Tom: Say, Crow...you don't by any chance feel like committing seppuku, do you? Crow: Sure do, buddy! Too bad I don’t have any internal organs...hey, how’d you guess? > Was the cabin >leaking? No, it wasn't water. Crow: Birdie, birdie, in the sky, why'd you do that in my eye? Mike: Is it water? Tom: Is it spit? Crow: Oh my god, it's birdie > Well, he'd been trained in substance >identification. He sniffed his hand. It smelled funny. Tentatively, he >licked it. Mike: Because the first thing you should do when confronted with an unknown liquid is take a direct whiff, then put some in your mouth. Tom: I don't know...somehow I feel like I'm about to see something of such soul-searing evil that ritual suicide would be the only appropriate way to purify myself. Mike: You know...I've been thinking the same thing! Crow: Man, this is weird. > It tasted funny too, familiar, almost like... Crow: Cheez Whiz! Tom: Cookie dough! Mike: Midnight Thunder Gatorade! Crow: Sure wish I knew where all this nameless terror was coming from... > Robin looked up. "Aw no!" > There was Bart, still sound asleep, hanging nude by his ankles from the > >rafter, an expression of pure bliss on his face, All: [pained silence] Tom: Guys...this is gonna hurt. > and fluid dripping from his >rapidly deflating cock. All: AAAAIIIIIEEEE!! [gagging] Crow: Bad speedster! Bad speedster! You know you go outside! > He'd had a wet dream, Mike: Noooo, REALLY!? Tom: THAT tastes "FAMILIAR" to a 14-YEAR-OLD?!? All: [renewed gagging] > depositing most of the evidence >smack dab into Robin's hair. "And I tasted it!" Crow: I can't believe it's not butter! Mike: It isn't. Crow: [sobbing] I know, Mike! I know! > For a moment Robin seriously considered killing Bart, but even he had >to admit that, however annoying Bart was when he was awake, he couldn't >hold Bart responsible for what happened while he was asleep. Tom: What a wuss! If Bart did something like that to me, I'd wring his neck! Mike: Me too! And don't get me started on what I'd do if he started drooling! > It didn't meant >he had to like it though. Angrily, Robin grabbed one of the blankets and >wiped off his hand and face, Tom: [Robin] Still...not...clean...must...scrub...harder... > he still couldn't get it completely out of his >hair and the slightly cinnamon taste of it lingered in his mouth. Crow: *Cinnamon*?! Tom: He who controls the Spice controls the universe! Mike: Icky...think I'll cancel that trip to Cinnabon I had planned once I got back to Earth... > He was in >a foul mood. Crow: [Robin] Grrr...rassafrackin' nocturnal emissions... Mike: [Robin] Chicken!! That's what I want, chicken!! Bots: [stare] Mike: Um...foul...chicken...it's a joke... >His mood hadn't improved an hour later when Bart awoke at the smell of >breakfast. Bart sniffed tentatively about the simmering saucepan on the >coals. "You cook?" Tom: [Robin] No, me vigilante. You nudist. > Robin's response was cold, "yes, it's an essential survival skill. I >can also filet, ferment and butcher just about any animal." Crow: He can ferment any animal? Batman really did train him well! Mike: [Robin] Try some of this cider I made out of the dead rat I found last night. > He looked >especially hard at Bart with that last. Tom: [Robin] Hmm...wonder what kind of wine would go well with him? > Bart, oblivious to Robin's hostility, dipped a finger into the pan, >licked it. "What is this substance?" Bots: [begin squirming and whimpering] Mike: The stuff in the pan, guys. The stuff in the pan. Tom: We know, but it's gotta get worse than this... > "Lard. I haven't started yet." Crow: See!? SEE!? They have lard!! Who knows what they'll do now!? > Robin found the retching sounds Bart >made deeply satisfying on some level. > Bart looked sullen up until breakfast arrived, then he dug in with >gusto. Tom: After a few unsuccessful attempts, he dug in with a fork instead. > Robin could only look on in amazement as Bart paved his way >through three whole plates of powdered flap jacks without coming up for air. Crow: And slapping concrete over all that powder was no simple task, let me tell you! >Midway through the second helping, he dismissed it as a side effect of his >accelerated metabolism and settled down to eat his own breakfast. Crow: [Robin] Hmm...these pancakes taste a little funny... Mike: [Bart] Oh, yeah. You looked like you needed some help cooking breakfast, so I just added a couple of things to the pancake batter. Crow: [Robin] *You* added some things? Mike: [Bart] Yeah! I used the pancake recipe that my friend C-ko gave me. Crow: [Robin] GAAACK... (Thud) Mike: [Bart] Should I tell her you liked them? > While Robin cleaned up, Bart amused himself with the contents of the >cabin. Crow: [Bart] Hey, Robin, look what I found! It makes a cool buzzing noise, too! Tom: [Bart] Hey, Robin, look what I found! Three whole bags of mushrooms! Want some? Mike: [Bart] Hey, Robin, look what I found! What kinda weirdo would want a bathtub shaped like a heart?! > He seemed fascinated by the canned goods, unable to fathom their >function. Crow: I would think that Bart would know what canned food was after living in the 20th century for a year. Mike: Maybe he and Max lived on grubs and berries. > That was fine by Robin, whatever kept Bart out of his way. Tom: [Robin] Hey, Bart, go amuse yourself while I figure out how to kill youI mean, call for help. Crow: [Bart] 'Kay. >He only interceded when Bart seemed to have reached the conclusion that >they could be baked in the fire like a potato, gently removing the already >bulging cans from the coals before they burst. Mike: And a potentially cute and funny scene is reduced to a single ineffectual sentence. Crow: Gotta make room for them sex scenes, folks! > Following his telling off after what quickly became known at the 'chili >incident', Bart seemed to calm down. Contenting himself to snuggling by >the fire in increasingly intricate furniture and blanket forts that he tore >down and rebuilt every fifteen minutes or so. Tom: [Bart] Maybe this next fort will be enough to keep the gate of Hell sealed...nope. Better try again. > Robin welcomed the relative >solitude, Mike: [Robin] Hey, this is a perfect time to practice my brooding. Ommm...shadows...darkness...retribution...ommm... > taking the opportunity to attempt to reconstruct his cell phone. Crow: Since it was the one he got for free from Quintel, however, the effort was futile anyway. > It didn't look encouraging. The main board was cracked, Mike: Cracked magazine? Tom: I hope not. The poor kids would die of boredom before they got rescued. > and while it >didn't look as if any of the components were missing, it would take days of >microsoddering to piece it together again. Mike: Shouldn't that be soldering? Crow: Don't ask me. > He was about five hours into >remerging Mike: Or 'microsoddering'... > two relatively straight cracks when he realized that he'd been >putting them together backwards. All: [muted trumpet] Waah-waaah-waaaaaaahhh... > With a small sigh, he began to take >apart the work it'd taken him all day to do. Mike: Microsodder. Tom: Well, if he knows as much about electronics as the author, no wonder it's taking him all day. > Just as he was finishing, he >heard a voice over his shoulder "Robin?" Crow: [voice] Play Misty for me... Tom: [Bart] Um, my last fort was a dud...do we still have that holy water? > Robing, paused, Tom: He was naked? Crow & Mike: EWWWWW!! > broke the final connection, bagged the components for >the night, and turned. "Yes Bart, what is it now?" > For a moment, the sight of Bart took Robin's breath away. Crow: [Robin] GAAACCK!! Bart...can't...breathe... > He'd tried >to force him to put on some of the flannels they'd found in the cabin's >supplies, but Bart had positively swum in them. Mike: [Bart] Hey, Robin! I can do the backstroke! Look at me! Tom: [Robin] I'm looking, Bart. Mike: [Bart] Look at me! WHOOO!! Tom: [Robin] I see you, Bart. Mike: [Bart] Hey, you're not even watching! Tom: [Robin] That's nice, Bart. > As a concession to >Robin, Bart at least wore his briefs around the cabin. Tom: Couldn't he have worn, oh, say, his COSTUME?? Crow: No, that would have made sense and delayed the sex scene. Tom: Ah. > Keeping a roaring fire >going all through the day to compensate for the cold. If nothing else, >he'd done that right. They'd both been sweating and Robin himself was down >to his boxers and mask, Tom: Oh my God! Robin WAS naked! Crow & Mike: EEEEEEWWWWWWWW!! Tom: Well, almost. Crow & Mike: Ew. > which was beginning to itch uncomfortably from the >heat. If he didn't give the skin around his eyes a chance to breath >soon, he'd develop a rash. Mike: That's the least of your problems, Timmy boy! Crow: Yeah, you're uncomfortably close to becoming a nudist! > But for just a moment, the sight of Bart there, >sweating, flushed, briefs clinging to his young body while the firelight >played behind him, Tom: Of course, the Barry White CD that Bart had popped into the stereo didn't hurt either. > left Robin dumbstruck. Mike: [Robin] Duuhhh...purty. > He recovered himself just >soon enough to hear Bart say Tom: [Bart] Do you ever feel unfresh? > "-ell me who you are." > Robin was nothing if not fleet of mind, and Bart's was rather one >track, he recovered quickly. Tom: [Robin] Oh, sure. My real name is Tim Drake, and I live in Gotham City, and I'm the sidekick of Batman, who's really Bruce Wayne...oh, POOPIE!! > "Because I said so. Bart, just accept that I'm >not gonna tell you my name." Mike: [Bart, sobbing] You creep! I thought I meant something to you! I'm going home to Mother! Oh, wait, she won't be born for another thousand years. Never mind. > Bart sulked, as he always did when Robin refused to answer this >question. Taking advantage of the awkward moment, Robin grabbed one of >the blankets Bart had been using on his fort off of a chair Tom: [Bart] Uh-oh! That blanket was the only thing keeping the gate of Noonan-Ra in place! You just unleashed the most powerful demon in all existence! Mike: [Robin] Yuh-huh. I'll betAAAAAAGGGGHHHH!!! Tom: [Bart] I warned him. > and jumped back >into the couch. Mike: [Robin] IIIEEE!! COUCH MONSTER!! > "Night Bart." He closed his eyes and made a concentrated >effort to fall asleep. Crow: [Robin] Since you're up, would you mind putting on that sheep costume we found and running around so I can count you? > Bart yawned wide and in one single, fluid motion, he stripped off his >briefs, silhouetted perfectly against the firelight, and jumped, his >overlarge hands catching on the rafter directly above Robin's head. Mike: [Bart] Cannonball! WHEEE!! Tom: [Robin] NOOOOO!! Mike: THUD! CRACK! Tom: [Robin] GAAHHHH!! My spine! > He >swung his legs around and again swung free, nude, by his ankles above >Robin. "G'night Robin!" Crow: [Bart] Good night, chair! Good night, couch! Good night, fireplace! Good night, snow! Good night... Mike: [Robin] I'm never reading you that book again. > Robin glared up at Bart for a long time, unable to sleep. It didn't >help that Bart fell asleep immediately, a look of absolute peace and >contentment on his face. Tom: [Bart] Mmmm...Batgirl...why, thank you, Barbara, I'd love another grape... > Robin found himself again admiring Bart's >body, so different from his own. Bots: [whimpering] Mike: ['Lightning Crashes'] I can feel it, coming back again... > Bart had a runner's body, slim and wiry, >every muscle clearly defined, Crow: Yeah, I hear Impulse had an entire section of Webster’s English dictionary dedicated to him. > yet not interfering with the smooth lines of >Bart's body. He still had the smooth skin of youth, and Robin found himself >wondering how soft it would feel beneath his fingers... Tom: ...how smoothly it would slip off Bart's flesh...how well it would keep its luster after it had been tanned... Mike: [Robin] Every time I see Superboy, he's always flaunting that expensive leather jacket of his. It's about time I kept up with the Joneses. > On that thought, Robin once again drifted off to sleep. Crow: [Robin] Oooh, yes, Mistress Catwoman, I've been a naughty boy... > Robin jerked awake at the first wet touch on his face. Tom: Not quickly enough, sadly. The Xenomorph's acidic blood had already started to burn him. By the time the alien actually started eating him, he was praying for the swift, merciful embrace of death... Mike: That's dark enough, Tom, thank you. >His eyes snapped open, and he was greeted by a very singular sight. Tom: A rescue party? Crow: Ed McMahon? Mike: Fifteen trained Rottweilers on a unicycle? >Bart Allen, All: [Desperately] Nooooooo... > a look of absolute ecstasy on his sleeping face, writhing in >the throes or orgasm, Tom: Throes, or orgasm? You make the call! Mike: I'll take the throes! *Please*, let me take the throes! Crow: If only we could 'throe' out this scene! > his penis fully engorged, jetting load after load of >translucent cum into the air, describing a beautiful arc towards Robin's >face. Tom: Um, Tim, sweetie, this might be a good time to MOVE! > Robin opened his mouth to protest, Mike: [Robin] Hey, sleeping person who can't possibly control what he's doing or react to anything I'm saying! Cut that out! > but was cut off as one thick >wad skipped off his front teeth and landed slimily on his tongue. Tom: Oh, *come* on... Crow: He is. Tom: THAT WASN'T WHAT I MEANT!! A-hem. There's no way Bart could hit Robin’s mouth so accurately if he were unconscious. Bart’s awake, and he knows EXACTLY WHAT HE'S DOING, THE LITTLE SLEAZE! Mike: Tom, please! Don't analyze the plot contrivances! We're running out of spare heads for you! Tom: [panting] Sorry, Mike. It's just...so icky... > Indignant, >Robin rolled off the couch, the last of Bart's cum spraying hot against his >shoulder blades. Mike: Geez, what is he, target practice!? Tom: I'd hate to see what happens when Bart runs out of ammo. Crow: [Bart, seductively] Hey, Redbreast, wanna help me *reload*? Tom: AAAACCKK!! NO!! > Robin stared at Bart's lightly shuddering form suspended from the >rafter in rapt amazement. He'd never seen anyone, let alone another guy, have >an orgasm in front of his eyes before. Tom: I hope not!! Robin's only 14! Crow: [Robin] Bart's getting off on something. Huh. Big deal. Last time Nightwing and I had a training exercise together, we... [glances expectantly at Mike] ...we... [starts fidgeting] ...we... Mike: You okay, Crow? Crow: A-Aren't you gonna interrupt my riff? Mike: No, why? Crow: [stares at Mike for a while, then turns back to the screen] No reason. > Bart's sweaty body glistened in the >firelight -- the images was just so powerful ... Tom: Uh-huh. Right. Why'd they let WildStorm go to DC if they were so high and mighty? > Robin clutched at his boxers, groaning in need as he pulled them off, Mike: [Robin] AAAHHH! Bart, did you get into the Icy-Hot again?! >his steel-hard 5 inches flying loose of the confining material with an >audible *snap* against his 14 year old washboard stomach. All: [Strained silence] Crow: Um, you know, reading that last sentence feels uncomfortably like seeing everything pure and good in this world dragged through the mud, set on fire, and jumped up and down on by a bunch of Shriners. Mike: Ditto. Tom: Not in as many words, but still true. > Seeing Bart >there... just jetting into the air, the look of absolute purity, innocence, >ecstasy -- whatever it was on his face had awakened in Robin the lust he'd >been holding back for the last few days. Mike: Purity? Crow: Innocence? Tom: Ecstasy? All: No. Mike: Horror? Crow: Wrongness? Tom: Corruption of the innocent? All: Oh GOD yes. > Robin touched himself tentatively, with uncertain hands. Tom: [Robin] Now, let's see...is this my femur, or my gallbladder? > He'd done >this before, but not often. A good, bone-wearing physical workout would kill >your sex drive quicker than anything he could possibly think of. Crow: Quicker than imagining Drew Carey in a thong bikini? Mike: [Pauses, then falls from his seat, retching] Crow: Heh, heh. Got 'im. > But here, >now, staring hungrily at Bart's slim form, hanging upside down from his ankles >by a rafter, Tom: As we have already established SIX HUNDRED TIMES... > blissfully asleep after his relief, Robin wanted that. Tom: [Robin] Mmm! I bet he'd fry up real nice with some eggs... [normal] Wait, have I filled our quota of cannibalism jokes yet? Crow: Probably. You go through 'em quick enough. > He >wanted the relief he saw in Bart. Tom: [Robin] I *must* find out where he's keeping those Rolaids! > He wanted the RELEASE -- he wanted- Tom: ...sexual healing? Crow: ...it all, and he wanted it now? Tom: ...to rock and roll all night and party every day? Crow: ...you, but he wanted you to want him too? [looks around] Gee, it's taking Mike a long time to get back up. >Robin's hands jerked spastically at his shaft, Crow: Hey, when did he take up mining? Tom: Maybe it's a crossover with the Treasure of Sierra Madre! Maybe Robin's about to kill Bart out of greed and misplaced paranoia! Crow: Somehow I doubt it. Tom: Hey, a guy can dream. > working it dryly in the >firelight. This would never do. Crow: So he went back to bed and put all the nasty thoughts out of his mind the end. [reads a few lines down] POOPIE! > Robin wiped Bart's cum from his face, >he made chewing motions with his jaw to build up a load of spit, Tom: [Robin] Emit all over ME, will he!? Bart Allen's about to get the loogie from hell!! >inadvertently rolling that much of Bard's semen over his tongue. Crow: That spoony Bard! Tom: [Dull, horrified shock] He...he isn't... > The thought- >the taste, it just made him hornier. Tom: Oh my God. He's doing it. He's going there. IN THE NAME OF EVERYTHING HOLY, HE'S ACTUALLY GOING THERE!! Crow: Servo!! Calm down, man!! Tom: SOMEONE EXPLAIN TO ME HOW GETTING SPERM ALL OVER YOURSELF IS EROTIC!! SOMEBODY!! PLEASE!! Crow: Um...I’d help you out there if I could, buddy...sorry... Tom: [hyperventilating] What's that supposed to mean? What are you implying?? WHAT?! Crow: Look, will you RELAX? Every second you let this fic get to you is another second that Pearl Forrester wins! Is that what you want? Tom: Crow...I'm sorry, pal, but...this just sounds so...gross... Crow: It's OK, Tommy boy! This story might've put Mike out of commission... Tom: That was actually the "Drew Carey" remark, Crow. Crow: [Snappish] Whatever! The point is, we're here, we're reading this, and I'll be damned if we're gonna cave in! Tom: Y'know you're right! I'm not gonna let this get to me! Come on, fanfic! Do your worst! > He spit into his hand, a great thick >gob of foamy spit mixed with Bart's cum. Tom: EWWWW!! Crow: You *had* to encourage it, didn't you, TOM?? > He longed to just grab his aching cock Crow: [Robin] AAAGGHH!! Must...loosen...grip... >and stroke, but he exercised control. Control in all things, even this. Tom: Sounds good to me. Crow? Crow: You read my mind. [Both bots turn away from the screen as best they can.] Crow: Is it over? Tom: Let's find out. [They turn back to the screen.] >Robin was on his knees next to the couch, the dimming fireplace on one >side of him, the couch with Bart hanging above him on the other. For a >moment, he just wrapped his hands around his cock and held it there, >spit and spent semen squirting out between his fingers Tom: EEEEEEWWWWWW!! Crow: Let it be his own spit, oh PLEASE let it be his own... Tom: You're NOT HELPING!! Crow: Excuse me for imagining the best possible scenario. > as he leaned back, >took a breath Tom: Oh, sure. Take all the breath. Don't leave any for the sleeping guy. > and held it. Crow: Oh, jeez, STILL? Shouldn't his hand be falling asleep by Tom: THAT'S IT!! [Tom lunges at Crow, knocking him to the floor of the theater. In their struggle, the bots miss several lines of the fic.] Tom: [panting] Hey...is the scene over? Crow: Lemme up. I'll check. [Pokes his head over the seats] >The wind seemed to rush past his eyes like molasses as he let out one long >songless breath, more an expression of life than anything he could have >spoken aloud. Crow: I...guess...not. Tom: [looking up over the seats as well] Crow, you have eyes. Does the wind ever rush past them like molasses? Crow: Er, not that I know of. Tom: OK. DIE!! [The struggle for superiority continues. Finally, the bots haul themselves into their respective seats, exhausted.] Crow: Biting's not fair. Tom: Aw, quiet, ya pantywaist. > Robin was suddenly conscious of a single bead of sweat trickling it's >way down his abdomen. Crow: Self-love and body fluids. Ordinarily I'd be ecstatic, you know? Tom: I know. Oh boy, do I know. > He slowed his movements, this incredible last >sensory element seeming to overload him. The drop as both cold and >unbelievably hot against his skin as it traced a line along his neck across his >chest, and his taut abdomen. Tom: Oh, it's playing Hot/Cold with him. I love that game. > He could feel the individual hairs alight as it >passed over them. Crow: [Robin] Darn hairs! Shoo! Shoo! > His body seemed to be saying 'yes, this' his breath came in > >gasping shudders Tom: [Robin] Inhaler...where's...the inhaler... > as the droplet described a shallow arc around his belly >button and disappeared inside, the sensation vanished. Tom: As has our interest. Eyes, A-VERT! [The bots turn away as much as they can. After about a minute, Crow glances back at the screen.] Crow: Hey, Tombo, I've got good news and bad news. Tom: Um...why don't you give me the good news first? Crow: OK, good news is the masturbation scene is almost over. Tom: WOO-HOO! [turns to the screen] > Like a wave that had been held back, his oncoming orgasm was suddenly >everywhere, all over him again. Crow: Bad news: the author probably meant 'wave' literally. Tom: Dur-hey? Crow: Think about what the author thinks of as erotic. Tom: [pause] AAAAAAHHHHHH!! Crow: I knew you'd understand. > His every muscles was tight, waiting >for it, knowing it. Tom: [muscle] Jesus-jumped-up-fiddling, the kid's at it *again*! Crow: [other muscle] I wouldn't wanna be his hand right now, I'll tell you what... > He leaned his head back, looking at Bart again, seeing >his face. Tom: [Robin] Tsk, tsk...hasn't anyone told that boy about Retin-A? > Such a face -- it didn't exist in this time. No lines, no cares, no >worries. Crow: Would singing "Hakuna Matata" be in poor taste at this point? Tom: YES. Crow: Oh. [Pause, then singing] "Hakuna Matata, what a wonderful phrase..." Tom: Crow, as soon as I burn my Timon and Pumbaa plushies, YOU'RE NEXT!! > Robin noticed something he hadn't seen before, Crow: As that is what one does when one notices something. > one single last Tom: ...ultimate final conclusive sole individual... >thread of semen hanging over Bart's chin, the only remnant on the boy of >the orgasm that has rocked his body just minutes ago. For some reason, that >little spot of cum draped so awkwardly at Bart's chin was what set him >off. Tom: ORGASM SCENE!! AAAAHHHH!! Crow: RUN AWAY! RUN AWAY! [Once again, the bots turn away as best they can.] Tom: This is getting ridiculous. Crow: Well, shoot, Tom... Tom: Don't say that word!! Crow: Shoot? Tom: YAAAAHH!! Crow: Oh, give it a rest! Who knows? Maybe the author's giving up on the...you know...the semen thing! Tom: Well, why don't you take a look? Crow: Fine! I will! [turns to the screen] >Thick strands of semen Crow: NNNNGGGGHH...[hastily turning away] OK, OK, I was wrong. Tom: Oh, whatsamatter? Mr. Innuendo can't handle a couple measly gametes swimming in a protective buffering fluid? Crow: S-Sure I can! I just...got...something in my eye! Yeah, that's the ticket! Tom: Oh, I'll bet. Ya gonna cry, baby? Bet ya gonna cry! Crow: Cut it out! Tom: 1-2-3-CRY! 1-2-3-CRY! Crow: Hey, look! Something incredibly dark and irredeemable just happened to Robin! Tom: WHERE?! [glances at the screen] >cum spraying everywhere. Tom: GRRRR!! I knew it! I *knew* it!! Crow: No, you didn't. Tom: SILENCE!! > One load >managed to make it onto the fireplace where it bubbled and hissed on the >dying logs. Tom: [Logs] UGGGHH!! No, please! All we ever did was give you warmth...aaacck... > Robin loved the smell. Tom: Somehow I don't think that was what Kurt Cobain was singing about... Crow: Note to self never accept any potpourri from Tim Drake. > As Robin vented the last of his >load, he found himself staring at Bart hanging there, wondering what it felt >like for him, what it would be like to hold him as he came, to feel some of >what he felt Crow: [Ro-Man] To come like the speed-ster! To feel like the speed-ster! > that set him off again as his body sent one last trickling >load of semen to pool and chill at the base of his cock. Tom: [Robin] YEEEEOOWWWW!! COLD!! > Robin lay there for a > >long moment, catching his breath, waiting for the world to stop spinning. Tom: Just then, the Earth did indeed stop spinning, abruptly flinging everything on it into the vast darkness of space. The end. > With a groan, he rose. He wiped himself on the same towel he'd used >the previous night. He positively REEKED of cum, both his own and Bart's. Crow: I spy, with my little eye, something starting with s! Tom: Semen fetish? Crow: Very good. Mike owes you a RAMchip. >Well, he could count on Bart not to notice, he'd have to rig up some >kind of bath tomorrow. Tom: By God, he'd use his tongue if he had to! Crow: Way to go with the flow, Tommy. Tom: It's not something I'm proud of. > Robin considered putting his sweaty boxers back on, but just couldn't >force himself to do so. Too much oppressive against his flushed body. Tom: Sure, why stop the nudism now? Crow: "Too much" Oh, forget it. I've been desensitized. Mike: [groaning, clambers back into his seat] Crow: Well, thank you for nothing, Nelson. Do you realize what we had to sit through just now? Mike: I have an idea of it. Tom: Well, I hope you're proud of yourself. By the by, you owe me an extra RAMchip. >It was as he was about to crawl back onto the couch that he paused. Mike: [Robin] I can finish this level of Tomb Raider later. Mom's makin' macaroni an'cheese for dinner! > Bart hung there, as peaceful as ever, serene really. He'd remained >totally oblivious to Robin's movements. Tom: [Bart] Um, I didn't see that! I'm still asleep! Really! [painfully fake snoring noises] Mike: Hey, what did Robin do just now? Crow: He wrote a manifesto denouncing the evil capitalist bourgeoisie of Gotham City, Bruce Wayne included, and led a violent rebellion that spanned the globe and changed the course of history forever. Mike: [pause] You made that up. Crow: No I didn't! Tell 'im, Servo! Tom: It's true. Most moving scene in the entire story, really. Mike: [Grumbling incoherently] > Robin licked his lips nervously. Crow: Oh no... Mike: Shouldn't you jump in with a cannibalism joke about now? Tom: I figure they're a little overdone. >There, still hanging from his 14 year old chin, was that little trickle of >jelled cum that has so set him off. He wanted it. Mike: Oh, for...hasn't this kid had enough body fluids for one night?! Crow: You'd think he would have, but no. > Moving carefully so as >to make no sound, Robin stood on the couch, balancing precariously, and >brought his head level with Bart's upside-down chin. Tom: [Robin] Hmm...if I held the flashlight here, and I screamed "Truck!" loud enough... > He considered trying >to just lift it off, maybe he could do so without waking Bart .... But here so >close to him -- he could smell Bart, musky, like him, but at the same time >not. His own personal scent. Mike: Impulse for the ADD-struck child within. Available from Christian Dior. > Acting without thinking, before he could turn >back, Robin licked it off Bart's chin with one fluid motion. Tom: Then he went to get that bottle of chocolate sauce he'd been saving... Crow: Was that a cannibalism riff or an oral-fetish riff? Tom: I...just don't...know anymore... > Bart stirred in his sleep, but did not wake. Robin breathed in deeply, > >tasting his breath. Mike: [Robin] Jeez, Bart! Lay off the garlic! > "Sweet dreams Bart." he murmured. All: [Marilyn Manson-type snarling] "are made of this, who had a mind to disagree..." > Robin lay down to sleep, savoring the boy's taste on his tongue, and >wondering what it meant. Crow: Well, Timmy, you have these little dots on your tongue called taste buds... > Sure- he'd jacked off with Bart's cum, Mike: He DID?! Bots: Yep. Mike: EEEEWWWWWW... > but the >sight of him going off like that -- it'd just set him going. he couldn't >control himself. Tom: [Robin] There is no Tim Drake now. There is only Zool. > And besides, even if he did, there was nothing wrong with >that. He wasn't gay or anything. Everybody jerked off, sometimes even in >groups. No, he was perfectly normal. Nothing to worry about. Mike: [Robin] Me, gay? Nope! Why, I'm as straight as the next kid! No bad thoughts here! Not a one! [nervous, hysterical giggling] > With that comforting thought in his head, Robin snuggled up by the >dying fire with the other boy's taste at his lips, and fell asleep. Crow: If this is a segue to a dream sequence... > Tom: May be? MAY BE?! All: [screaming, wailing, gnashing of teeth] > I really intended on making this a series, Mike: Hey, wait, guys...I sense an apologist statement coming up! > but this took me so long Mike: There's the 'but!' We have a 'but!' Bots: Woohoo! Yaaay!! >(I've been working on it since the publication in December) that that >idea's pretty much hashed unless people go wild for this. (I wouldn't) Even >then, no guarantees. Mike: It's very sad when an author doesn't think much of his own work. Tom: And it's even sadder when we don't think much of it. Crow: And it's even sadder than that when everyone thinks so little of it that the author doesn't bother to write the rest of the series. [pause] Wait, no it isn't. > -Mazer114@hotmail.com Tom: Ten bucks says that's a pseudonym for Annie Sprinkle. >------------------------------------------------------------------------- >Approved for posting - Mykkhal - ASSGM Moderator >ASSGM Guidelines/FAQ: http://www.geocities.com/WestHollywood/Heights/8885 >ASSGM Archive: http://members.tripod.com/~assgm >In the words of an ASSGM subscriber: > "Hopefully jacking off is healthy. If not, I'll die soon." >------------------------------------------------------------------------- Mike: [picking up Tom to leave] Ah, self-deprecation in closing quotes. How I love it. [The gang files out of the theater.] [1...2...3...4...5...6...thunk!] [SoL bridge. The guys are standing in their usual spots, looking shaken but none the worse for wear.] Crow: Hey, guys...it just occurred to me...the author said "consensual sex between teenaged males" in the introduction. Tom: True, true. Crow: And...well...there was none. Mike: Also true. [Long pause. Crow fidgets a little.] Crow: Well...does that bother anyone else? Tom: [turning slowly to Crow] Croooooow...? Crow: Look, I'm just getting a little tired of these writers who don't follow up on their commitments. Tom: You...wanted...to see... Crow: [upset] What I want isn't the issue!! I'm talking about honesty! Integrity! Uprightness! That kinda stuff!! Mike: I think I see where you're going with this, Crow. You're not upset because there wasn't actual sex, you're upset because the author promised and then didn't deliver...am I right? Crow: Right! Right! And although I'm glad that the fic wasn't stretched out any more than it already was... Mike: ...as, of course, we all are... Crow: ...thank you, Mike...I would just like to see some writers be a little more straightforward in their warnings. That's all. Mike: I can certainly agree with that. How about you, Tom? [Tom, who hasn't moved this entire time, is still staring intently at Crow.] Mike: Um, Tom? Tom: ...so *that's* why you've got that signed copy of "Robin Plus" #1. Crow: [says nothing, but begins growling slightly] Tom: [chuckling] Ah, that's adorable, Crow. Hey, want me to let you know when the next issue of Young Justice gets up here? Crow: [growls louder, begins shaking] Tom: Then you can take it in your room and not come out for hours and hours and hours as, I believe, you also do with Generation X, Troublemakers, Gundam Wing... [Crow suddenly shrieks in fury and dives at Tom, knocking him behind the counter. Mike looks meaningfully at Cambot.] Mike: This is bound to take a while. What do you think, ma'am? Crow: [whining] No biting! Owwww!! [Castle Forrester. The music, mercifully, has stopped. Instead, Bobo and Observer are standing in the background, yelling quite loudly at each other. Pearl is in the foreground, holding a bag of ice to her head and generally looking morose.] Bobo: And who revitalized the music industry by fueling the hair metal craze of the late 1980's?? KISS, that's who!! Observer: You're logical grave is getting deeper by the second, simian. Cheap theatrics are not the gauge against which true art should be judged! There's also metaphor, purpose, and talent...all of which Rush has in abundance... Bobo: [sarcastic] Oh, pardon me for criticizing your little progressive rock trio. I'm sorry to keep you occupied like this. Am I keeping you away from your Zonpower meeting?? And your Ayn Rand book discussion?? And your "Humorless Creeps Who Like Dumb Pretentious Bands Society" annual bake sale and sack race?? And Observer: [equally sarcastic] Oh, *ouch*, you got me there. I suppose you know *far* more about intellectual discourse than I do, from reading your comic books and buying your action figures and wearing your face paint and engaging in your show of juvenile rebellion so insincere that not even a Marilyn Manson fan would give it credit-- Pearl: [to Mike] You're not the only one, Mikey. You're not the only one. [With the guys still bickering in the background, Pearl hefts a sledgehammer onto her shoulder and trudges off to dispense justice as the scene fades out...] ***** Well, folks, that's our show. I'd like to thank: Marc Cassell for initial proofreading, riffing suggestions, and moral support; Rob C Bungie and Cult of TS for their kindness to a newbie; John 'Omega' Seavey for getting me interested in MiSTing; the cast and crew of Shinji's Vault of Anime MiSTings for teaching me about perseverance; and most of all, Mazer114 for providing me with my first riffable material. Mazer114, if you're reading this right now, I'm sorry that I wasn't able to contact you. I do think your personal philosophy is admirable, and I wish you the best in future. "Robin + Impulse" is the original work of Mazer114. The preceding MiSTing was not intended as a direct attack on the author and should be considered a form of C&C. Mystery Science Theater 3000 and its related characters and situations are trademarks of and (c) 1998 by Best Brains, Inc. Tim 'Robin' Drake, Bart 'Impulse' Allen, and all related characters are the property of DC Comics. All rights reserved. Use of copyrighted and trademarked material is for entertainment purposes only; no infringement on any original copyrights or trademarks is intended or should be inferred. [TWANG!] > Robin found the retching sounds Bart made deeply satisfying on some level.