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lobelia321FICLET: "Succumbing to the Influence of Chemistry"
SERIES: Nr. 11 of the Boring!Orli series. Back to nr. 10.
Author: Lobelia; lobelia40@yahoo.com
Pairing: Orlando Bloom / Johnny Depp
Thanks all for being patient!
-----
Before we move on in the wake of Orlando Bloom's breathlessly exciting adventures, dear readers, a word about the nature of boringness may be in order. To be precise, a word about the nature of Orlando Bloom's boringness. And to be even more precise, a word about the psychedelic mind-and-body altering effects of the combined alchemy of the hallucinogenic substance donated to Mr Bloom by Mr Depp and the hormonal psychedelia of the vaginal anti-fungal cream applied to Mr Bloom's penis only minutes before Mr Depp's arrival at his door.
Because, as we shall see, the combined workings of these two compounds were to have a sudden and dramatic impact on Mr Bloom's mindset, as if a switch had just been set, diverting all trains from the predictable track of the routine-bound dullard and hurtling them along the precipitous fairground ride of the interesting, the quirky, the fascinating and the ever-unexpected by-ways of the brain.
The first time that Orli had rubbed the wrongly prescribed ointment into his wart-afflicted penis, nothing had happened. The second time that Orli had rubbed in the ointment, nothing had happened. The wart did not shrink but neither did anything else.
The third time that Orli had rubbed in the ointment, something did start to happen, but it was not noticeable. At least not to Orli's naked eye.
There was shrinkage. Not of the wart but of the wart's abode.
And of the testicular matter beneath.
At the same time, oxytocins of subtle but penetrating influence began to diffuse into Orli's bloodstream like nebulae into the outer galaxies of our universe.
It was possibly this hazy fog within Orli's arteries and veins that caused him, not a daredevil man in the ordinary run of things, to swallow Johnny's shiny pink pill so readily.
What, then, did this pill contain? Thirty percent harmless sawdust stuff, thirty percent lysergic acid diethylamide, thirty percent gamma-hydroky butyrate, and ten percent of a little-known substance harvested off the coast of Belize and injected into the capsule by a drug-baron with pecs the size of barrels and scruples the size of a guinea pig's gonads.
Orli swallowed the pill. Oxytocins collided with butyrates, prescription medication rubbed up against class-A drug, swirls interlaced with whirls.
And boomph.
The walls of the corridor expanded and contracted (well, not in reality but in Orli's fevered perception), the wool-and-rayon surface underneath undulated against Orli's spinal column, the ribs and muscles of Johnny's torso pressed warmly against Orli's own, and Johnny's tongue, no less warm, played arpeggios against Orli's teeth.
"Amazing", said Orli. Of course, it didn't come out that way. It came out as "amuwhbphumum", the syllables squashed out of shape against Johnny's tongue.
"Mm, mm," said Johnny, apparently encouraged by Orli's incoherence into more daring exploits. He began to grind his crotch into Orli's.
"Amuwhbphumum", said Orli again and closed his eyes. Still, the carpet continued to ripple against his back, and the walls buckled against the top of his head where it pressed into the wainscoting.
"Oh, Christ, Orli-mate," mumbled Johnny, extracting his tongue from Orli's mouth and dragging it wetly along Orli's throat.
"You know, Johnny," said Orli, eyes still closed.
Tongue now on Orli's clavicle.
"I'm not really into guys. That is, I've never been into guys before."
Tongue pushing at the lock-stitched neck-opening of Orli's T-shirt.
"But, you know, why not? Try anything once."
Fingers sliding up under the hem of Orli's T-shirt.
"But, man, how long have you been... I mean, how long has this been going on?"
Thumbs wrestling with Orli's fly.
"Hang on, hang on. This is all a bit too fast. What with all the things that have been happening, and such a lot of things have happened to me recently, it's all a bit much... Ah, what are you...?"
"Oh, Orli. I just wanna see your wart."
Johnny's hand extracting Orli's manhood, and then, Johnny's mouth dropping open, and Johnny's eyes widening, and Johnny's lips forming one short word:
"Shit."
"Shit," gasped Orli, but for entirely different reasons. He still had his eyes closed.
"Shit," someone said outside the door.
There was a thump. Then the doorbell rang.
"Orlando? Hi, it's me, Viggo. Listen, would you have some spare cash? I stupidly forgot to get currency at the airport."
-----
TBC
16 July 2003
lobelia40@yahoo.com
SERIES: Nr. 11 of the Boring!Orli series. Back to nr. 10.
Author: Lobelia; lobelia40@yahoo.com
Pairing: Orlando Bloom / Johnny Depp
Thanks all for being patient!
-----
Before we move on in the wake of Orlando Bloom's breathlessly exciting adventures, dear readers, a word about the nature of boringness may be in order. To be precise, a word about the nature of Orlando Bloom's boringness. And to be even more precise, a word about the psychedelic mind-and-body altering effects of the combined alchemy of the hallucinogenic substance donated to Mr Bloom by Mr Depp and the hormonal psychedelia of the vaginal anti-fungal cream applied to Mr Bloom's penis only minutes before Mr Depp's arrival at his door.
Because, as we shall see, the combined workings of these two compounds were to have a sudden and dramatic impact on Mr Bloom's mindset, as if a switch had just been set, diverting all trains from the predictable track of the routine-bound dullard and hurtling them along the precipitous fairground ride of the interesting, the quirky, the fascinating and the ever-unexpected by-ways of the brain.
The first time that Orli had rubbed the wrongly prescribed ointment into his wart-afflicted penis, nothing had happened. The second time that Orli had rubbed in the ointment, nothing had happened. The wart did not shrink but neither did anything else.
The third time that Orli had rubbed in the ointment, something did start to happen, but it was not noticeable. At least not to Orli's naked eye.
There was shrinkage. Not of the wart but of the wart's abode.
And of the testicular matter beneath.
At the same time, oxytocins of subtle but penetrating influence began to diffuse into Orli's bloodstream like nebulae into the outer galaxies of our universe.
It was possibly this hazy fog within Orli's arteries and veins that caused him, not a daredevil man in the ordinary run of things, to swallow Johnny's shiny pink pill so readily.
What, then, did this pill contain? Thirty percent harmless sawdust stuff, thirty percent lysergic acid diethylamide, thirty percent gamma-hydroky butyrate, and ten percent of a little-known substance harvested off the coast of Belize and injected into the capsule by a drug-baron with pecs the size of barrels and scruples the size of a guinea pig's gonads.
Orli swallowed the pill. Oxytocins collided with butyrates, prescription medication rubbed up against class-A drug, swirls interlaced with whirls.
And boomph.
The walls of the corridor expanded and contracted (well, not in reality but in Orli's fevered perception), the wool-and-rayon surface underneath undulated against Orli's spinal column, the ribs and muscles of Johnny's torso pressed warmly against Orli's own, and Johnny's tongue, no less warm, played arpeggios against Orli's teeth.
"Amazing", said Orli. Of course, it didn't come out that way. It came out as "amuwhbphumum", the syllables squashed out of shape against Johnny's tongue.
"Mm, mm," said Johnny, apparently encouraged by Orli's incoherence into more daring exploits. He began to grind his crotch into Orli's.
"Amuwhbphumum", said Orli again and closed his eyes. Still, the carpet continued to ripple against his back, and the walls buckled against the top of his head where it pressed into the wainscoting.
"Oh, Christ, Orli-mate," mumbled Johnny, extracting his tongue from Orli's mouth and dragging it wetly along Orli's throat.
"You know, Johnny," said Orli, eyes still closed.
Tongue now on Orli's clavicle.
"I'm not really into guys. That is, I've never been into guys before."
Tongue pushing at the lock-stitched neck-opening of Orli's T-shirt.
"But, you know, why not? Try anything once."
Fingers sliding up under the hem of Orli's T-shirt.
"But, man, how long have you been... I mean, how long has this been going on?"
Thumbs wrestling with Orli's fly.
"Hang on, hang on. This is all a bit too fast. What with all the things that have been happening, and such a lot of things have happened to me recently, it's all a bit much... Ah, what are you...?"
"Oh, Orli. I just wanna see your wart."
Johnny's hand extracting Orli's manhood, and then, Johnny's mouth dropping open, and Johnny's eyes widening, and Johnny's lips forming one short word:
"Shit."
"Shit," gasped Orli, but for entirely different reasons. He still had his eyes closed.
"Shit," someone said outside the door.
There was a thump. Then the doorbell rang.
"Orlando? Hi, it's me, Viggo. Listen, would you have some spare cash? I stupidly forgot to get currency at the airport."
-----
TBC
16 July 2003
lobelia40@yahoo.com
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2003-07-16 07:01 am (UTC)whathappensnextwhathappensnextwhathappensnextwhathappensnext! *pant, pant*
The plot thickens! But what about Orli's penis? And the wart?!
*chews fingernails*
PS: Viggo! :D
(no subject)
Date: 2003-07-16 01:23 pm (UTC)Take a deep breath. Count to ten. And then count to 367.
Thank you for reading!
(no subject)
Date: 2003-07-16 07:23 am (UTC)Secondly: Pharmacology! Love the descriptions of the drugs and their interactions. swirls interlaced with whirls.
Thirdly: Amuwhbphumum. 'Nuff said.
Fourthly: "Shit," someone said outside the door. Wonderful entrance for Viggo into the story, and oh the timing.
Wibderful, darling.
(no subject)
Date: 2003-07-16 01:24 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2003-07-16 09:04 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2003-07-16 01:25 pm (UTC)Yes, ahem, actually you can tell where I'm going with this, can't you? And perhaps you also have read "Middlesex" in the recent past...?
Thank you!!
(no subject)
Date: 2003-07-16 10:09 am (UTC)How much do I lvoe thee? Let me count the ways...
Or at least I would count the ways if the humidity hadn't rendered me brain dead.
*clings to you for your fabulousness*
(no subject)
Date: 2003-07-16 01:30 pm (UTC)Or even febulousness. (I was just thinking, in fact, of the way that this fandom [presumably all fandoms?] has coined various neologism. I must go away and start a list of them. I mean, *who* else would understand 'febulous' or 'muskritty' or references to yellow shirts?)
To get back on-topic: Thank you for reading and laughing, you dear old thing! Despite humidity.
(no subject)
Date: 2003-07-16 11:21 am (UTC)Ah, yes, of course! The evil oxytocins responsible for so many fangirls' spontaneous orgasms over their Smash Hits magazines! Bwhahahahahahahahahahaha!
That was precious, though. Hadn't realized how much I'd missed boring Orli. And oh Lord, the return of the wart! *falls over laughing* Johnny's a kinky pervert, what with that fascination. I'd never be that fascinated, no no. I mean, the suspense about that wart is about to kill me dead, but I'm no pervert, no. Not like Johnny, anyway. Probably because I haven't released enough oxytocins, today. Will have to go search for someone to rub against, then...
Bwhahahahahahahahahaha...
(no subject)
Date: 2003-07-16 01:32 pm (UTC)And you *got* the oxytocin reference! Yes, everything heard, seen or read gets ploughed back into boring!Orli...!
(no subject)
Date: 2003-07-16 01:02 pm (UTC)Especially love your narrator's voice describing the Fortunes and Misfortunes of the famous Orlando Bloom with well-chosen words and all unexcited while the plot literally explodes. Oh, and the timing for Viggo's entree was faultless ;-)
(no subject)
Date: 2003-07-16 01:33 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2003-07-16 02:32 pm (UTC)Oxytocins!
Wonderful to have Boring Orli back. How I've missed him! I love how this series evolves and mutates and stuff. I'd like a bound copy of this please. In fact, I'd like your complete works bound in Morrocan leather, with marbled endpapers and fancy capital letters illuminated by Trappist monks. I'd keep them in their own special bookcase and everything.
Ignore me, it's the heat.
(no subject)
Date: 2003-07-16 02:42 pm (UTC)*mind reels with t'world of obscure journalism*
Thank you for reading and liking! Moroccan leather! Whoa. Actually, I was re-reading the series (to make sure I knew what was going to happen) and was thinking what utter crap it is. Such goeth the self-flagellation.
*off to fan those oxytocins*
(no subject)
Date: 2003-07-16 03:19 pm (UTC)Is not actually. So there.
(no subject)
Date: 2003-07-16 03:01 pm (UTC)Just open that door!
(no subject)
Date: 2003-07-17 02:31 am (UTC)Thank you for reading and commenting!
(no subject)
Date: 2003-07-16 05:18 pm (UTC)i love it no end.
and your cliff-hangers of chapter ends are more breath-stopping than 'who shot jr?'
(no subject)
Date: 2003-07-17 02:33 am (UTC)*stops laughing to ogle hatted icon - having seen it a thousand times it never fails to release those oxytocins*
I have not read Douglas Adams though I did once hear one episode of the Galaxy book on Radio 4. Thank you for the comparison, though.
Cliffhangers! Yes! The device of all serial killers... er, I mean, writers.
Thank you for these comments. It's interesting to me to ponder boring!Orli.