Life & Death in a Walk-In Freezer

AUTHOR'S NOTE

This is my entry for The 750 Word Project. This story consists of exactly 750 words.

Thanks to jezzaz and other event organizers.

All characters are over 18.

I was chomping my last McNugget when the woman screamed. She was a bosomy, big-bottomed blonde in a Sooners hoodie.

A burly gent with a mullet, also wearing Sooners attire, boomed, "Hol-ee shit, it's coming right at us!"

People were gaping westward. I turned to the window.

Before I saw it, I heard it: like a giant steam-powered Hoover on rails. Then I saw it: a dark twisting taproot sprouting from a roiling black bloom in the sky.

A pale-faced manager with a wispy mustache and thinning bouffant appeared in the dining room. His name tag read "Jeff." Jeff announced a tornado had been sighted in the vicinity.

"It's right there," pointed out the mulleted gent, prompting another scream from the blonde.

The manager urged everyone to take shelter in the restaurant's walk-in freezer. A panicked scurry commenced.

I remained at the window, watching the twister pirouette across the prairie. A native Philadelphian, I was no good at judging distances out on these flatlands, but the tornado seemed a good mile or so away. The odds of this particular building having a bullseye on it seemed low, I thought. So, despite the uproar, I felt serene.

"Mesmerizing, isn't it?" said a voice, husky but feminine.

She was tall, leggy—almost gangly—but pretty, with tawny skin and sleek black hair to her ass. I guessed she was part Indian, maybe full-blooded.

I nodded. "Beautiful, in a way."

In the distance, a little white farmstead exploded—house, barn, windmill and all—sucked up into the vortex and spit out in shards. I thought I saw a cow go airborne. Suddenly, I felt the danger of the situation.

I thought to take the girl on my motorcycle, to speed away—safer, probably, than waiting in some freezer like a sitting duck. But suddenly, a thick darkness fell, a torrential rain, a punishing hail. We lost sight of the tornado, but its rumble grew ever louder.

The girl and I scurried to the meat freezer.

"Don't worry," she said. "I had a vision of my own death when I was nine. It didn't involve frozen Big Macs, so we'll probably be OK."

"Psychic?"

"Was. Lost my powers at puberty."

"Seems like a fair trade."

We were the last ones to shelter. The girl was not dressed for a deep-freeze. She wore a flouncy cotton dress, polka-dotted. However, the sardine-like press of bodies inside the icy vault provided a good deal of warmth—at least for those in the middle. I found myself wedged between boxes of frozen french fries and the bosomy blonde, the freezer door at my rear, the leggy brunette before me.

The power died. Darkness was absolute. There were groans, whimpers, hyperventilations. The blonde blubbered. The brunette started a chorus of "Amazing Grace."

As she sang, she swayed. Her bubbly buttocks swished against my crotch.

One by one, the others joined her in song, their combined voices rising against the oncoming storm.

Meanwhile, I sprouted the most inappropriate erection of my life. And I couldn't hide it; there was no room to maneuver.

The girl pressed herself harder into me, her ass actively seeking my cock, her swaying unmistakably seductive.

My hands encircled her hips.

She took my hand in hers, guided it under her skirt, pressed it to her steamy crotch.

Three-handed, we tugged down her panties. With the fourth, I unzipped.

We jostled and squirmed. My cock found her fur-trimmed slot. With a thrust, I entered. She was searingly hot, achingly tight, and wet.

Urgently, we rutted. Beside us, the pliant flesh of the blonde jiggled along, a participant in our dance. As we fucked, I could feel my girl breathing in rhythm, singing her song. But the roar of the storm was towering, all-encompassing. No hymn, no human voice could overcome.

Suddenly, life became simple. I had one purpose: to fill this miraculous girl with my seed. I pumped, pumped, pumped, and, like magic, relinquished.

Outside was the sound of great destruction, of civilization becoming undone. Our freezer hopped and juddered. I wrapped my limbs around my girl, did my feeble best to shield her from nature's wrath.

The top of the freezer tore away like a sardine-tin lid. I looked up to a circle of baby-blue sky. The walls of the tornado crackled and glowed with blue veins of lightning. A litter of tiny tornadoes danced in their mother's belly.

I clutched at my girl, but couldn't hold her, as I felt myself lifted to the heavens.