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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