A fic of no socially redeeming value OR It’s a Gundam!
It was a beautiful afternoon for an enema.
The sun was shining particularly bright today, a warm tingling caress across her bared buttocks. She smiled. Thongs were surely developed by a *woman* just as surely as corsets were invented by men. This though did not stop her from wearing a black satin, lace trimmed corset. She loved this corset. So what if she couldn’t breathe very deeply much less touch her toes? It got rid of any unsightly bulges around the waist and tummy that no amount of cursing and stomach crunches would with maximum efficiency. It also *prominently* displayed her décolletage, individually *lifting* and *separating* her prides and joys. Oh sure her butt was trim and firm, her hair was thick and shiny, but her twins… now *those* were something to stare at. She ensured this by wearing sweaters and button down shirts a *tad* too small, tucking in her uniform just a bit tightly and a thousand and one different tricks to which only the proud, the few, the busty could resort to. She also sported matching black satin evening gloves which reached just above the elbows. She thought it made her hands look smaller, not to mention feel *much* smoother. Calluses were inevitable as a soldier, but during these games… the only rough stimulation she wished to provide were of the oral persuasion.
With that happy thought in mind, she turned to face her current paramour. An underling and subordinate officer in every sense of the word, she thought with a wicked, smug grin.
Flavor of the Week aka Underling 12-a45d aka Private Dick was strapped face up, spread eagled and pretty much helpless to any number of her whims. And she had a lot of whims. He was also as naked as the day he was born, except for a long strand necklace of high grade pearls and some discreet eyeliner. Private Dick, or just Dicky to his friends, was also approximately 20 years younger that she was.
A bit older than she would normally prefer, but really … those annoying gundams kept *insisting* on killing off the newer recruits. She had no choice but to harvest from the slightly over ripe.
She held out the mineral water filled sack and probe with a sweet smile. Her passionate plum rouged lips opened. He shivered involuntarily. She asked, “Are we clear on the password, little man?”
She smirked and swayed closer. Her knees touched the satin covered bed. She bent over slowly, giving Private Dick a good glimpse of *why* he had agreed to being strapped down naked and being prepped for an enema. (Well… there was also the issue of Private Dick’s mum but let’s leave the poor boy with *some* secrets.)
She traced a delicate hand over his tense, bared thigh and watched with narrowed eyes for his reaction.
Then she looked at his face.
The poor darling was absolutely tense. Those gorgeous baby blues, which made him look at least *five* years younger, were rounded in terror. To her fascination, his Adam’s apple bobbed more than a French maid in a roomful of lecherous old men. He mouthed the word ‘gundam’ several times to her absolute disappointment. She didn’t think much of it. The password for this month *was* ‘gundam’. She thought it was particularly clever. And really, in a moment of exquisite ecstasy and mind rocking passion, who would think to scream gundam?
Then all the screaming and explosions from the outside finally caught up to her admittedly distracted attention.
She turned around, intending to peer out the window and see what the fuss was about. Instead she came face to mechanical eyeball with well…
Her last thought - It *is* a gundam.
*snickers* Don’t ask where this came from. I had the first sentence; I had the last sentence. Everything else… I refute all responsibility towards!
Wufei in Nataku: *after having peered in and smashed Oz officer buildings* Khrushenada! You have tarnished my honor; I demand satisfaction!
Treize: *drops what he’s doing* Do I here the constipated yet luscious call of my dear Gundam Pilot? *runs off in high kneed boots and rose scented lube*
Zechs: *has been dropped* Dammit, Treize!
Noin: *underneath Zechs* Dammit, Zechs! That’s it; no more threesomes! Every time he hears that little brat call, off he goes! Men! *throws hands up in air**takes off strap on and stalks off to find clothes*
Zechs: *has been left alone with nothing but a lonely strap on and a strange idea* *puts on strap on* Look! A two headed monster! … I need a drink.
Meanwhile at the shot gun wedding of one Chang and Khrushenada.
Random Oz Soldier: Call for the Preacher!
Random Oz Soldier 2: Call for the Preacher!
Random Oz Soldier 3: Call for the Preacher!
think Robin Hood: Men in Tights a la Call for the Locksmith!)
Random Oz Soldier 4: Here’s a Preacher! *hauls in Duo*
ROS : That’s no preacher!
ROS 2: That’s a gundam pilot!
ROS: That too… But he’s a defrocked priest!
ROS 4: Defrocked? How do you mean? He has his rosaries *points*. He has his clerical collar *points*.
ROS 3: Yes, but that’s *all* he has on.
Duo: *sheepish grin*
Wufei: *hand in face*
Heero: *walks in with pissy expression* Do you *mind*? *grabs Duo back to wherever they came from* The nerve…
Not to be continued
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