Sleeping Groupie

Once-upon-a-time, there lived a beautiful young princess named Ziggy. Ziggy had the most amazing body ever found around her home town. Now, on the scale of great-looking bodies, Ziggy probably wasn't too shit hot, but her father, King Nebula, made certain that she was at least the best-looking girl in his town by pouring nitric acid on anybody who even dared to think that she was not. Consequently, the population was greatly reduced. The king got rather lonely, until one day a prince appeared. Prince Peter the Prolific, as he was known, actually found Ziggy stunningly luscious. This surprised the King, and he immediately asked Peter if he would marry her. Peter said yes, although the only reason was because she had huge breasts. Apart from his vulgarity, Peter had extremely revolting bad breath. It was the kind of breath that would make pancakes shrivel up and roll away, and any man's intestines leap up and choke his brain to quickly put him out of his misery. Ziggy found Peter the Prolific quite sexually attractive, and his overwhelmingly bad breath never bothered her much since she always made sure that they were super wasted when they were together. She did not want to marry him however. When the King asked Ziggy why she wouldn't marry Peter the Prolific, Ziggy said that she would miss too much sleeping around with different men all the time, and since she was a loyal person, she would feel quite miserable tied down. Ziggy was quite aware of her overwhelming sensuality and made sure that it was quite obvious to any male that was around.

Now, although there weren't too many people living in Ziggy's town, there were a few. Most of these citizens were dope-crazed, sexually inhibited coal workers. They really didn't care who they fucked, and, indeed, they were usually fucking one another. They did not know about bad breath (as their nostrils were usually crammed with coal dust, and exceptionally with coke) and were inclined to small breasted women and moderately endowed males.

These coal miners, men and women, were not paid in cash for their labours, but were provided with spiritual rather than material worth. Acid, heroin, PCP, and encouragement (for whatever they were hesitant about doing) were tops on their shopping lists every week.

The shop where they purchased these desirables was run by the ex-manager of the Sex Pistols, Friar Tuck. Of course most people of this small community didn't know what the Sex Pistols were. Friar Tuck kept hidden from them that all these guys did while playing on stage was to show their sex pistols and what sex pistols they were - at least twelve inches a piece, like a good meal which almost didn't fit in Ziggy's rather large mouth or erotic passage. Oh well - that's the way the story goes, sexually frustrated coal miners on dope.

Peter the Prolific came from a very puritan and inhibited household. He couldn't relate to the never ending orgies present in the town's mine. This sort of crude satiating of the senses was beyond his ability to comprehend. He resolved to change things after he had married the princess and killed off her parents. He didn't know that Ziggy only considered him another fuck. Boy! Was he in for a shock.

He went to her room to propose to her, but to his disappointment he had to wait in line and take a number. He was really pissed off and felt rotten, and thought about suicide. So he decided to fuck her to death, his death that is because she was invulnerable. He shot down all the people waiting in line, and they fell down dead, their hopes blown away. He rushed into the room, ripped off the man on top of her, and tossed his gun into the corner (after barricading the door shut with every bit of furniture inside the room, including the Persian rug, and extremely valuable Ming vase). She was already stark naked lying on the bed, her voluptuous breasts, with large pink nipples, expressing themselves clearly as lusty beings. He looked at her delicious body panting at what was about to happen. His clothing flew off faster than lighting a cigarette. He jumped on her wildly, trying to rip her apart as well as to fulfil his innermost fantasy since childhood: to fuck a luscious woman to death Never did he realise that he was in for a shock. He was weak and vulnerable. He scratched her, bit her, fucked her with all his might. This went on for about six to eight hours - well no one really remembers. There is a rumour that he was either on speed, acid, or on bennies! Anyhow, it lasted for a hell of a long time. Ziggy was amazed. At last a man who could provide her with multiple orgasms. She had never experienced anything of the sort in her entire life, not even the night she fucked 69 guys, while she was high on pure coke. Peter the Prolific died, however, of over exhaustion. Ziggy cried and cried - for once in her life, she had fallen in love. No one had ever given her such aggressive and desirable sexual behaviour before. She would never get over Peter the Prolific's death, just never.

Drying her eyes, she looked at him. Getting up and dressing, she moved without a reason "why". She removed the furniture from the door, and carefully put the Ming vase on the Persian rug. She began to traverse the long corridor leading to the castle's highest tower. (Built 300 years after the original castle's tower, but it was much taller and stronger and so the original tower was dismantled and stored in the city's vaults under "T" for towers). Looking at the beginning of the stairs (10,000 in all, well 9,999 since step 3,147 (if you start counting the steps from the top) was demolished by a shell left over from the last inter-galactic war, which also made 7 holes in the left wall in that vicinity. Men could be seen peeping from these holes, since you could see the nude women on the beach from this vantage point). She looked longingly at the elevator, but decided that since she still had uncalculateable reserves of energy left, the climb would relax her. Step after step, an other step, even another step, until she reached the next step which led to a door. She opened it, went in and had dinner.

She started by drinking 40 ounces of Rye, straight from the bottle. Feeling hungry, she ate 23 lbs. of roast caribou covered in asparagus-sauce, followed by six roasted chickens and eight Michelin winter snow tires. Feeling a bit full , she went to the can quickly. She flooded the washroom, until the whole restaurant was under water. She rushed out the door and climbed some more steps, until she reached restaurant 2 (which was about some 3,000 steps from the top! On her way up, she passed seven men, who were masturbating while peeping in holes in the left wall.) Seven angry patrons from the first restaurant swarmed after her. They were armed to the teeth! Grenades, machine guns and heat seeking missiles followed the seven patrons on small brown mules driven faster and faster by small trolls in pyjamas. But these men died for Ziggy was no longer vulnerable. Now that she had lost Peter the Prolific - nothing could ever harm her again.

Sad, dejected, Ziggy went down the elevator, walked the five blocks to the cross-town bus stop. Turning down offers from street musicians, vagrants, and black shoe shine boys along the way. (Actually, they weren't really black, just coal miner's sons.) Ziggy boarded the bus. She took a seat on the aisle across from what looked like a cross between Loni Anderson and a "gay bob" doll. Sitting in the back seat was a man in his mind thirties with his pet Doberman, affectionately referred to as Sir. Ziggy and the gay sitting across from her, were eyeing the dog. The dog must have been thinking about Fifi (that gorgeous German shepherd in heat) who lived down the road, because a huge red fire-hydrant was seen protruding from in between his rear hind-quarters.

Almost in unison, Ziggy and the gay looked up at each other and smiled. Ziggy was hooked. She had finally found someone who was as interested in cocks as she was.

The huge fire-hydrant reared its ugly head and started coming all over the place. After about half an hour of this, the whole fucken town and everything inside it was drowned in wonderfully horrible tasting green come. Oh well that only goes to show that doing too much acid makes you too horny and you want to fuck every good-looking oak table you see, just like everything else has something to do with nothing else! And by the way Ziggy did play everybody's guitar really well!

Written November 25, 1981 at Le Seahorse, on Crescent St., Montreal, Canada by five people while they were getting progressively drunker. Four males and Jessica Lovecraft collaborated to write this unique story.