Crack Attack: A Collection of One-Shots and Other Disturbing Shit

Crunch Time (Jeritos)

Warning: This story is not for smut virgins, innocents, or anyone who is disturbed by sexually explicit stories or morally dubious crack fics.
Written to the tune of Jerome's theme song, "Dance of the Pixies" by MachinimaSound (see above).

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Crunch.

Now this's the life. This's the kind of 'posh' I'm talkin' about. I've been dreaming about doing this since I was a kid and now that I'm a grown-ass adult, I can do whatever the fuck I want. Well, as long as Mitch doesn't see it in time to stop me. He's too busy being a real grown-up and recording videos with Lachy downstairs to know what I'm doing right now. I think he thinks I'm editing. Pfft. Bacs don't edit at ten o'clock on Monday morning, Mitch. Crazy shit like that just doesn't happen.

I hear Kato whining under his breath outside the bathroom door and I grin as I open another party-sized bag of Doritos. The tangy aroma of fake cheese and powdered salsa fills my nostrils as I dump the bag on my head, filling the bathtub up another inch or so. I can hear the Rottweiler sniffling under the door and I grab another bag of chips from the pile of plastic Target bags on the floor next to the tub and dump it in. It's satisfying to watch the chips tumble down my shoulders and click together as they gather in a massive mountain down by my thighs. There's like half a foot of chips down at the other end of the tub and like two feet up by my stomach. There's cheese Doritos and ranch Doritos and flour, corn, and spicy cheese-flavored Tostitos. All the -itos in the world (except those nasty little Fruit fuckers) are in this tub. And they're all mine.

It's like going to one of those cheap acupuncture shops in New York, but like a million times less sketchy. And you can eat it. They're all sharp and pointy and rough and salty. Okay, maybe they're a little too salty. They make my skin burn down below. But ya know what? GG no re. Best childhood porn fantasy, hands down. Every time I move, even when I breathe, the chips move and sharp corners dig into my skin. It's like having a back scratch all over your body. That you can eat. What could be better than that?

I pop a plain Tostito in my mouth and settle back against the side of the tub, crunching and snapping my ass in place. That's such a satisfying sound. Rough edges and grainy salt rub against my skin, and it feels rougher and sharper every second. I didn't even hafta watch a XXX video to get it going! Who knew chips could do that? Well, maybe Lachlan knew... But now isn't the time to contemplate the adventures of Lachy's Little Cocky. I've got some chips to eat.

Scratch.

Poke.

Crunch.

Stab.

With every heartbeat, dozens of chips are pricking my prick. It's like humping a cactus but without all the whining. I grab a handful of whatever's on top, and two different kinds of spicy cheese fill my mouth with their burning glory. I take a big breath and the sweet scent of their trademarked Cool Ranch makes my head feel light. Somewhere along the line, my hips started bucking up, sending puffs of cold air through the cracks in the blanket of warm chips. I don't know how it's supposed to work, but my body's tryin' to fuck a pile of tortilla chips. There has to be a Facebook group about this somewhere. Maybe Reddit has a thread, or twenty. Wait...

Would it be better with salsa? Has anyone done research on this?

How about that creamy ranch shit no one actually likes to eat?

How would it feel to have cool, slimy, creamy ranch sliding down my-

Before I even know it's happening, my body's done shaking and quaking and there's a stripe of creamy ranch on a handful of chips in front of me. I pick up a plain Tostito that got caught in the crossfire and pop it into my mouth, feeling like a contestant on Fear Factor. Or on Mitch's Death Cup horror show. I chew it once, twice, thrice, and... Blegh. It tastes almost like Brussels sprouts. Ugh. Too healthy. I swallow it and catch myself making a face in the shiny silver faucet, and I grab a handful of cheesy Doritos to wash it down with. The make-believe cheese is a pleasant relief.

At least I can say I tried it.

I eat the dry chips on top until my thighs don't feel shaky and weak anymore, then I carefully stand up out of the tub and shake the crumbs off. I look in the mirror and see that, surprisingly, the only place that's completely covered in chip dust is my tip. Unless you got close enough to smell my new cheesy, ranchy, salty armesan odor, or you pulled down my pants to get a peek, you'd never know what happened. Good deal. I slip back into my clean swim trunks and grab a beach towel from under the sink. I'mma get away scot-free with no big, blue, confused eyes staring into my deep, dark soul.

"Pssst. Kato. Whatcha up to, bud?" The dog whines pitifully at me from under the door and I hear his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. I stash the hoard of chip bags under the little cupboard under the sink and check my back and chest out again in the mirror and slip my slowly weakening cock into the waistband of my trunks to hide the visible weather vane and carefully, silently open the door to reveal both of Ryan's dogs bowing down in front of the door, tails wagging and tongues drooling. "Coop, Kato. Wanna treat? Come here. Come get a treat. Good boys. Good boys!" I lead them over to the tub full of tortilla chips and turn around to leave, the sweet sound of furious crunching filling the tile room behind me.

I take the stairs two at a time and run outside, tossing the towel aside on the lounger before I dive feet-first into the pool. Now there's no proof I did anything. Ryan's making his half of the Troll Pack boxes at the warehouse while we 'watch' his dogs, and Benj and Lachlan are recording something in their computer rooms. This pool has seen its share of horrors. My cock stings for a few seconds while the salt dissolves and gets washed away, then it's like nothing happened.

The cold water washed away all the evidence.

Well, most of it.

Cooper and Kato took care of the rest.