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Shirt stinks. Butt-crack shitty. As he watches my eyes roll right back into my head he enters the chamber. I am still alive, but my brain has been pulped, softened, neutered. I am a vegetable. My brain is nought but a lump of meat now. Cooked. Treated. Prepared for my Master to feast upon. I gurgle slowly, quietly, body calm and still. The ring has performed it's wonderful work. No more throb. No more brain-thinks. The Xenomorph picks my lifeless body up, slimy with faeces and froth, he faces it away. He continues to pump his cock into his other fist. His inner mouth pokes into the back of my sterilised head, it eats and eats and eats through the flesh and bone until it reaches the tenderised brains, my brains have been cooked and prepared like an aphrodisiac. The cooked head-meat of a preteen Boy is a great delicacy to Xenomorphs!The Xenomorph begins to feast, feast, feast, scooping, gorging, slurping. He pulls my ragdoll body back until his wet cock-tip pokes into my slimy, sweet. "You belong to the Automobile Club?" I asked her."Yes," she sighed, going through her purse. She found the card in her wallet and showed it to me. Something in her expression made me feel sorry for her. I patted her head."I'll go, Helen," I assured her. "It can't be more than a mile back there. You stay here."She smiled at me. The warm smile of our childhood when we had just shared a candy bar, or when pushing little dolls around inside a doll house, our hands had accidentally bumped.She leaned over and gave me a hug, and I could feel her heart beating through her skin.Out on the road I was wishing I hadn't chosen to wear heels that day. I thought back to myself sitting in the bedroom that morning and making the choice. The road was level but at the pace I was trying to maintain, the walking was giving my muscles a workout.As cars came up behind me, I tried slowing down to prevent too much of a bounce and swing to my butt. I would have welcomed a ride, but wasn't in the mood for.
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