The Lazarus Gambit

"I thought I heard you say something about some of them being already dead."

"Oh yes, there are many levels of AARP membership beyond the platinum level."

"What are the platinum members' benefits?"

"First, we boost up their libido through drugs and neural implants, so that they want to be fucked all day and all night."

"And then?"

"We fuck them all day and all night. More specifically, AARP erotic therapists and surrogates such as yourself fuck them all day and all night."

"Can't we get away from them? My prick can no' take it anymore, mein flame-haired fuhrer," E Rex said. He began to cite the Three Refuges: "I take my refuge in the Bobbit, I take my refuge in the Bukaki, I..."

"Do you really think your superstitious chants can save you, worm? They can track you down through your ankle bracelet, your neural implants and your tracking watch. There is no place to hide from your new admirers. They each wear a tracker watch just as you do." Plus, you will feel their pull through the microelectrodes implanted in you brain.

E Rex became aware of the watch embedded in his wrist. It displayed a map of the local streets and resembled a game of Pac-Man, or perhaps more accurately Ms. Pac-Man. Several Ms. Pac-Mans were trolling the streets and swallowing up the Mr. Pac-Mans as fast they could find them. Each time a Ms. Pac-Man icon swallowed a Mr. Pac-Man icon, both of them fused together and pulsated up and down until the Mr. Pac-Man icon shot a white spray into the Ms. Pac-Man icon. Shortly after this, the Ms. Pac-Man icon would regurgitate a black Pac-Man icon. These icons seemed to lack energy. The Ms. Pac-Mans seemed to lose interest after this, which enabled the flaccid Mr. Pac-Mans to slip away to a bar over on Woodward to buy a few smokes and a pint of Jim Beam.

"Why are the icons of different colors?" E Rex asked.

"Well, the yellow ones are regular AARP members, the cheap fucks. They have foolishly declined to purchase higher-order membership fees."

"What benefits do they have?" E Rex asked his guide to the hidden layers of reality.

"They have the right to remain silent," Dirty Andy said. "They have the right to post a singles ad in AARP magazine. If they are illiterate, they have the right to a ghost writer. If they don't have a ghost writer, one will be appointed for them. If they are covered with liver spots and wrinkles, a photoshopper will be provided for them.

"What about the silver ones?"

"Those are our platinum members. They may call sex partners through their brain nets and their ankle bracelets. Their selected partners are compelled to provide them with the sexual services they demand, subject to the Asimov's Three Laws of Robotics, of course."

"How about the pulsating magenta ones?"

"Those are our plutonium members. They are also called our methuselahs because they receive metformin and rapamycin, two cheap drugs that bring the aging process to a halt and thus confer biological immortality upon the methuselah (give or take a car crash or two). Most of our long-term plutonium members don't look a day over 102."

"And what about the emerald icons?"

"Those are our yttrium members, but we like to call them our lazaruses, because they have been raised from the dead. Most of them were placed in a cryochamber immediately after, or in some cases before, their deaths to be resurrected when science evolved to such an advanced degree that it was capable of such feats. Well, my gerontophiliac parolee, I am happy to say that day has come.

"Some of our yttrium members are quite fetching. You would swear that they were dead only three years, four years tops.

"There are always the doubters of course, those who say that we are playing God. These are the same right-to-lifers who bomb abortion clinics. However we at AARP are the quintessential right-to-lifers. Should we deny the right to exist to the most vulnerable segment of our society, our deceased senior citizens, just because their bodies are in an advanced state of decay, their limbs have been torn off by coyotes, and their eyes plucked out by vultures? There are those say that re-birthed corpses are ugly, but this is nothing but looksism, ageism, and liveism, plain and simple.

"Sorry E Rex, I'm getting carried away once again, but I am passionate about these issues."

E Rex began to feel woozy again and sagged to his knees, unlike his johnson, which snapped to rigid attention. Dirty Andy caught him by the elbow and propped him up. "Come on, you can do this. I know that it's overwhelming at first, a crowd of libidinous hags crawling inside your mind and forcing you to march in their direction.

E Rex put his hands on both sides of his head a la James Dean and cried out "You're tearing me apart! What can we do? If this doesn't stop pretty soon, I'm gonna go down there and let them have their way with me."

"Don't worry soldier, I've got your back," Dirty Andy said, and she ripped off her top and pressed her large soft breasts against the hard latissimus dorsi muscles that adorned E. Rex's back. She reached around and grabbed his throbbing cock and balls. "Let mama ease your pain, you poor thing.

She slid around E Rex's torso, tracing her route with her tongue. His jutting cock was now pressed against her face. She tore off the remnants of E Rex's pants and plunged her mouth over E Rex's miter as she squeezed his balls, attempting to tease the manna out of them.

"Many ti moo beel de gunger, jus ummon me too mor cankle maclet," Dirty told him, looking fondly up his torso

"Mut? I mean, What?" E Rex said, seeking clarification of his parole officer's remarks.

Dirty Andy pulled her mouth off of E Rex's love rocket. "I said 'Any time you feel the hunger, just summon me through your ankle bracelet.' I will come running to you so that you can use my body for whatever vile purpose you need to distract you from the siren call of the platinum, silver and emerald zombies that roam free in these here parts. You can fuck me, cornhole me, rape my mouth or whatever it takes to lose yourself in me and forget about the pull from all the platinums, methuselahs, and lazaruses that roam these godforsaken streets."

E Rex performed a passable imitation of Martin Short's Ed Grimley character and said, "Well, that's very nice of you, I must say!"

"Think nothing of it," Dirty Andy said. "Its the least I can do as your parole officer. Why do you think I've won the Employee of the Month at the Institute for Sickening and Repulsive Paraphilias for each of the last fourteen months? I take care very good care of my parolees. Very good care," she said, and plucked E Rod's magic wanger, setting it in motion like a metronome, which she caught in her mouth like a starving orca at SeaWorld receiving a tossed fish. She proceeded to hoover E Rex, who placed his hands on her bobbing head as though it were a basketball with benefits. He exploded into her mouth, and she swallowed every drop.

"Well one thing's for sure ," Dirty Andy said, looking and the comings and going of the mobs surrounding E Rex's house, "We sure as fuck can't go down there.

"I'll tell you what, how about we do a little Ninth Step work?"

"What's that?"

"That's where you make amends to people you may have harmed in the course of your untreated sick and disgusting paraphilias, be they golden showers, be they santorum-guzzling, or be they forms of coprophagia not on the approved list."

"Isn't that the same as the Alcoholics Anonymous's ninth step?"

"I'm sure you have noticed by now that the AA 12-step program is used for all negative conditions, even for gunshot wounds to the head and vegetative comas."

"What about Elizabeth Kubler-Ross's stages in accepting death and virtually any negative event whatsoever?"

"Oh you mean Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance? Fogetta bout it. Her work has been discredited by the scientific community. More importantly, her view fell out of favor when she encouraged bereaved widows to have sex with their dimly-lit deceased husbands at Shanti Nilaya, the therapeutic center Kubler-Ross founded in California. Said ghostly husbands banged the living daylights out of their horny widows. Kubler-Ross was disgraced when it turned out that the roles of the aforementioned resurrected husbands were played by none other than her disciple and next-door neighbor Jay Barham, an accused pedophile. As these women typically donated $285 per ghostly-banging frolic, one must take one's hat off to Barham. Soon women were entering into the fray offering similar services to bereaved widowers.

"Besides, now there are five stages now, if you include Resurrection. And don't get me started on the Buddhists' Noble Eightfold Fuck. Besides, we are six maniacs short of a quorum and can't pull that off, at least in the next half-hour."

"They're really pulling on my heartstrings, now." E Rex said. "I can feel their desire, their yearning even all the way up here in your office."

"Well hoss, you're free to walk right down there. I can spray some Tuff-Skin on your schlong, and you should be able to last through two or three hours of being gang-raped. More than that on your first rodeo, and your skin will split so bad they'll peel you like a banana and save the dermis for trophies."

"Well, what do you suggest then?"

"How about we stick to Plan A and do a little Ninth Step work?"

"Sounds like a plan," E Rex told his parole officer.

NINTH STEP

When E Rex and Dirty Andy piled out of the Crown Vic, E Rex knew immediately where he was. He looked up at the half-open window on the third floor. This was where Prudence Temperance lives, he thought, the old bitty that called the cops on him when he had first entered that window a little over eight years ago (he had gotten two years off for good behavior, most notably Bacchanalian orgies incorporating every conceivable carnal act with the warden, his extended family, various governmental dignitaries, the warden's casual acquaintances, and for some reason a pitcher plant, which usually brought the house down and got a standing ovation.

Dirty Andy gave E Rex the quiet sign, putting her finger to her lips and then plunging it in and out of her mouth. E Rex felt his organ getting steel-hard at this embellishment of the common sign for silence.

E Rex felt himself being pulled toward the scaffolding by an irresistible force. He was powerless to resist and he staggered to the brick wall, having lost control of his legs.

They climbed up the fire escape. When they reached Prudence Temperance's window, E Rex whispered, "Isn't this going to just get me in trouble again?"

Dirty Andy put her finger to E Rex's lips. "Sssh. She knows we're coming, both figuratively and non-figuratively. She'll be prepared for you this time."

Dirty Andy stripped E Rex and motioned for him to step inside the window. As soon as he was inside, he saw her. She was lying exactly as she had been on that fateful night eight years ago. She wore only an open negligee, which rippled in the cool night breeze. Her torso was open to him. Her breasts were large and round, more beautiful than those of a woman half her age. Her nipples were erect, and the shadows of the trees danced over her brazenly offered body.

E Rex's tool throbbed as never before. He stood at the foot of her bed, offering his own body to her. She parted her legs for him. "Do you like what you see, Eddie?"

"I surely do ma'am. By the way, you can call me 'E Rex' or just plain 'E.' Most of my friends do. He looked over his shoulder at Dirty Annie, and smiled. "In fact, all my friends do."

"How I have waited and longed for this moment," Prudence Temperance whispered. "Especially after your testimony that you thought I was the most beautiful woman in the world, That you had stood right there night after night until I finally woke and saw you. OK, maybe I only pretended to be asleep on many of those occasions.

"How I longed for you to use your magic wand and drive all the emptiness away, to fill me up with your essence. To pork the living daylights out of me. To use this withered body as the receptacle it was meant to be. In short to have you ravage me for hours and hours.

"I'm sorry I dialed 911 on my cell. If I knew you the way I do now, I would never have picked up the phone, except maybe to call my girlfriends in the mahjong club to come over for the twelve-some of their lives. I know now that you never meant to harm me, just to drink in my beauty night after night.

"Why did you think I started leaving my window open for you every night? Your court-appointed attorney made hay out of that one, but it was not enough to set you free, I'm afraid. I am so sorry, Eddie."

"Don't sweat the small stuff" E Rex said. As if Hambone McGoonksi and Harley Brown and his band of renown could be considered small stuff.

E Rex let himself get lost in the beauty of Prudence Temperance's full-figured body, in the rise and fall of her gargantuan breasts, and the dancing of moonlit tree shadows on her dappled torso.

"How can I ever repay you for what I have done?" E Rex asked.

"You mean not fucking me when I was lying exposed to you, my willing body flooded with the juices of my lust? You can start by wrapping your frankfurter in my dripping bun right now."

E Rex's pole began throb unbearably. He suspected that Prudence Temperance was at the least a platinum member of the AARP, if not a methuselah. There was no other way to explain the erotic power she held over him.

He crawled over her body on hands and knees until his sequoia was nestled into the proffered bun of Prudence Temperance's vulva (bratwurst, hot dog, frankfurter, and wiener schnitzel metaphors do not do justice to the magnitude of E Rex's member).

"Oh, Pru!" he whispered in her ear as she used her hands to wrap her nether lips around said thick tree.

"You don't have to call me Pru, honey," she informed him. "My best friends call me Prudence Temperance."

"Well, I ain't your best friend, Pru," E Rex said. "I'm here to pound your helpless flesh."

"Oh, my. Aren't you the forceful one!" Pru said, repositioning her arms so that Dirty Andy could better tie them to the bedposts with the rawhide straps that Andy always carried in her valise. Soon Pru's ankles were bound in the same manner and her body formed a perfect 'X' on the mattress. E Rex's knockwurst still rested in the bun of Pru's vulva.

His hands tightened around Pru's throat.

"How I have yearned for erotic asphyxiation, my dear Eddie. These metrosexual millennial eunuchs don't know how to show a lady a good time. Let's show 'em how to do it old school style. Hell, folks my own age have mostly forgotten how to do it old school style or how to do it at all. I tell them about AARP Platinum, but they just flick me away like I'm some kinda housefly that landed on their skin. It's like Fox Mulder said: "Belief is everything. Belief will set you free."

Pru began to heave her torso against E Rex's chest. "Move that sausage back and forth in my bun, dearie."

E Rex could sense Pru's every erotic desire though the cybernets connecting their brains and bodies. To fulfill them all would take more than a genital application of Tuff-Skin and a high-end dose of timed-release Cialis. Fortunately, he could feel the small silver dots in Pru's hair that meant that she was at the AARP platinum level or above. Asimov's Second Law of Robotics would ensure that E Rex's erection was rock-hard when desired by such an AARP member. Loosing patience, Pru began to give verbal permissions. "Ravage me, you good-for-nothing peeping Tom. Slide in me, baby. Claw my boobs. I'm Chantilly Lace and you know what I like."

E Rex began to slide his grützwurst in and out of Pru's kindly-proffered vulva bun. He lowered his lips to Pru's and kissed them passionately. He snaked his tongue in and out of her mouth, and soon she reciprocated. He hauled back and thrust his knockwurst deeply into her snatch, and snatch is just what it did.

E Rex could feel the pulsations in Pru's sugar walls, as they seized his eagerly-proffered organ and began to milk it as he rocked in and out of the paradise that was Pru's cooz. Her sugar walls seized him, not wanting to ever bid adieux to the pounding organ that offered her such untold pleasures. OK, many of these pleasures are being told right now, but they are just the tip of the iceberg, trust me.

E Rex pulled back for another sojourn in Pru's cooz but just as he hauled off and began to batter his way in and out of her body, he found himself unexpectedly impaled on an EZ-Cum Stage 5 magnum double-dildo wielded by none other than that shrinking violet and seemingly amoral parole officer, Dirty Andy herself.

Soon he matched Dirty Andy thrust by thrust, and they became a three-car love train. The pull of Pru's desire was so strong that E Rex lost his soul and became one with Pru's engine and Dirty Andy's caboose. They were all one entity, lost in the portals of each other's bodies.

E Rex felt their desires, and they became his own. Dirty Andy was buggering his very soul and he in turn was lost in in the convolutions and oceans of Pru's dripping wet cunt. It was a pleasure and union that he had never felt before, unless you count the brief frolic with the three surviving members of the Dionne quintuplets back in '03.

Soon enough the explosion came, as E Rex emptied his balls into the labyrinth of Pru's soaked quim. Dirty Andy shared his ecstasy as she embedded her faux schlong a full foot into E Rex's torpedo launcher. The EZ-Cum magnum double dildo went into ecstasy mode, and after 10 minutes of what Brian Wilson would undoubtedly classify as very good vibrations indeed, the hyper-libidinous trio once again collapsed into a sandwich of catatonic ecstasy, with E Rex starring the role of the meat and Pru and Dirty Andy the buns.

After 45 minutes, E Rex spoke. "Goddamn, that was greatest state of union that I have ever had the high privilege and distinct honor to participate in."

"Aw shucks, you ain't seen nothing, yet," Dirty Andy told her assigned parole. "It's all in here," she added, pointing at her head.

"Ain't no way that had anything to do brains," E Rex protested. "While I try to use my brain as little as possible, I've used it enough to know that what we just went through didn't have nothing to do with no brains."

"It's time to exercise our deprived mouths, my favorite sexual predator." Dirty Andy said. " You're still pretty wired, and I mean that in the most literal sense.

Dirty Andy lay down on her back and barked out the hike sequence, complete with Peyton Manning's favorite Midwestern city. "Let's go. 69. 69. Omaha! Omaha! Hut. Hut."

E Rex immediately leapt on top of his parole officer, plunging his magic, cybernetically-enhanced twanger a good foot into Dirty Andy's cavernous mouth. Her lips closed around its girth and she began to suck on it like a cherished cheroot fresh out of post-detente Havana.

He felt a strong hand on the nape of his neck forcing his face into Dirty Andy's wet coochie. He began to slide his face up and down in her slit, matching his pace to the rhythm of Dirty Andy's sucking mouth.

Both participants began to moan in pleasure, oblivious to the presence of Pru until she took E Rex's sac into her deprived mouth and began to worry it back and fourth in time with E Rex's thrusts into Dirty Andy's devouring mouth. She slid the fingers of her right hand into E Rex's crack and moved them up and down, circling and teasing his bunghole with her probing tongue and delectable, tireless digits.

She ran her sharp fingernails across E Rex's butt cheeks, drawing thin lines of blood across his gluteus maximus. She then ran her tongue over these newly-opened crimson rivulets, and E Rex's body twitched in both pain and pleasure with each passage of her cruel tongue. Pru reacquired E Rex's heavenly testicular orbs in her famished mouth. She worried them back and forth like a great white shark taking Captain Quint for the maritime joy ride of his dreams. She kept squeezing and releasing his balls , and pushing his harpoon deeper and deeper into the sweet ambergris of his parole officer's forbidden tunnels.