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

Pump It (Pooflait)

Warning: This chapter is not for readers who try to avoid explicit content. Viewer discretion is advised.

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"Hey. Come here." Preston is beckoning for me to get off of my ass and follow him to his bedroom, a hint of a grin betraying his frown. When I don't immediately fulfill his demand, he spreads his feet farther apart and squares off his shoulders in a show of playful bravado, pretending to be trying to intimidate me. He acts like such a child. I carefully lock my phone and set it screen down on the couch beside me, knowing that if I give in and follow him, or if he comes over to drag me after him, I will probably end up breaking my phone again. We stare each other down and wait for the next move. When I don't budge he comes over to force me to follow him, trying first to glare me into submission, then grabbing me by the arm and pulling me roughly to the bedroom like a kid who refused to put an expensive toy down at the store. "I told you to come here, Robert."

"I don't like when you say that. Bad things happen when you tell me to 'come here'."

"No, bad things happen when I tell you to 'come here' and you don't come here. Get in there." He pushes me into the bedroom and turns to grab a plastic Target bag out of the coat closet across the hall. He is grinning menacingly when he closes the bedroom door behind him and locks it. I pretend to make a run for the bathroom and he just pushes me in there ahead of him, making sure to lock that door, too. This isn't looking good for me. "I got ya a surprise before I picked you up at the airplane tube yesterday. Guess what it is."

"Knowing you, it's hard telling."

"Guess."

"I don't know, Preston."

"I know you don't know. That's why I told you to guess." He looks at me for a second before he rolls his eyes and smacks me with the large, pointy box in the bag. "Guess!"

"A gumball machine."

"No. Where the frick would I get a gumball machine?" I shrug and he just sighs with a hard-fought smile and puts the bag on the bathroom counter, slowly unwrapping it to heighten my impending terror. I love him, but his surprises are always horrifying. "So... Whaddaya think?" I have to blink a couple of times at the picture on the box before I'm convinced I know what I'm seeing. "You like it?"

"I think I'm a little lost... Why did you buy me a breast pump?" He guffaws and starts opening the box, pulling out all of the cups, bottles, tubes, and cords. What made him think of something like this?

" 'Cause I need to milk your udders. One udder in particular." He pops the tubes in place and, before I know it, he's plugging the pump into the wall and flipping switches. A loud, mechanical pulse echoes in the small bathroom, and he puts the nipple cups down on the counter and starts stripping his clothes off. When I don't follow suit, he comes over and starts doing it for me. "Sometimes I forget how dumb you are. Then you act like this and you remind me. Come here, Rob."

"What are you going to do to me?"

"I told you: I'm gonna milk ya." He leans forward and bites down on my ear while he unbuttons my shirt and pulls the pants I had borrowed from him down, and I don't bother putting up a fight when he pushes me over to the counter by the sink and pulls my ass out toward him. It's really been too long since we were together, and props to him for being the creative one for once. He pinches my lower body and bites at the back of my neck, trying to distract me while he improvises his overpowering Old Spice conditioner as lube and pushes in. I feel an unfamiliar throb as he pushes the pump cup over my tip, and the rhythmic sucking of the pump tugs and pulls and stretches the sensitive flesh in a way I can't even describe. It hurts, but in a good way. In less than a minute, I go from being nearly limp to being as hard as a diamond sword. The cold countertop, the uneven tile floor, the sound of the TV through the wall, the unflattering glow of the lights... It all disappears as I lose control to him and his new favorite toy. The stretching pain from the pressure in the pump gets sharper, harder, fuller every second and I can't hold back much longer. I'm not even sure if the moaning is coming from me or not. I feel him dig his sharp fingernails into my hips and pull me closer, a tell-tale sign that things are about to get rough. "You like that?"