As I mentioned a few weeks ago, Dr. Abraxas — the terrifying yet lovable fan fic writer who’s been with TR ever since I featured his massive and far too detailed Breeding Manual for Snarves, The Esnovelotoris Amateuris, has decided to put down his erotic fan fic-writing pen. Now I’ve avoided featuring his stories on FFF since he’s joined us, as it just didn’t seem right. If you remember some of he guys who used to make bad movies on purpose, just to get them featured on Mystery Science Theater 3000, you may know what I’m talking about. Not that Abraxas’ tales weren’t perverted and terrifying, but by getting to know him — he’s also perverted and terrifying, for the record — but they were just too difficult for me to make fun of, knowing that his stories may have been written with a TR audience in mind.
Sam Witwicky and Bumblebee in “Your Oil Is My Honey”
It was the middle of the night. The rest of the Cybertronians, Decepticon and Autobot alike, were another world away. The army, too, returned to state of normalcy and vanished. The whole, entire neighborhood was quiet – even dogs and cats did not make a sound. And, the best part of all, the parents were asleep!
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
Sam lay naked atop the floor of the garage.
Bumblebee, transformed out of the shape of a Camaro, crawled with knees and elbows toward the boy. Silently. Gently. Displaying the agility of a cat, a remarkable feat given its weight and size, the autobot reached and covered the human – metal arms hugged flesh arms, heads met brow to brow, chests brushed against chests.
You know, people always talk about the agility of cats, but my cat is clumsy as hell. He falls off shit all the time. All I’m saying is if my cat were Bumblebee here, Sam would have been ground into a fine paste already.
Sam did not feel his friend’s impressive heft only warmth – and love! He grasped the robot, holding onto the sides of its head, bringing it closer and closer. He peeled back the armored face plate and revealed the face itself. Two glowing blue eyes that stared conveying emotion that could be only awe. Shapes, composed of vents, that suggested the profile of a mouth. He stroked the cheek out of which gushed a steady stream of air. Then, bringing the machine’s head – and the body attached to it – yet closer, he locked his lips with its vents.
Bumblebee stroked the skin of his human, tenderly, with the tickle of a feather though the tips of his fingers were metal.
Metal feather. Got it.
A minute of kissing later and the boy stopped to catch his breath while the machine continued its massage.
Did Sam close the garage door? Is he going to die of carbon monoxide poisoning? …because I’m fine with that.
“The way you kiss me, Sam, it makes me feel alive,” Bumblebee confessed.
“Oh, you, you,” he stammered and blushed, adding: “I want to kiss you forever and ever, Bee.”
“I want to give you a present,” the autobot said.
“Oh? A present?” the human asked a bit confused.
Bumblebee handed Sam a small, thin package. “It’s an air freshener shaped like a pine tree,” the Autobot explained. “The other guys just love ’em!”
“Yes,” he said, rubbing his metal face against the teen’s soft, hairless belly. “I want you to understand how good you make me feel.”
The autobot removed the cap blocking those vents that outlined a mouth – a perfect, circular hole was revealed under it.
The boy reached into the space and felt about its rim. Its edge was coated with oil. He brought his fingers onto his lips and tasted the dew.
And then Sam did the Dew. And the Mountain Dew advertising and marketing departments were immediately forced to figure out a new slogan.
Bumblebee’s oil always possessed a unique, sweet flavor – almost like honey – and Sam always wondered how it got to be that way.
They make flavored Pennzoil now. Didn’t you know?
“Trust me?” the machine asked.
“Yes,” the teen replied without hesitation. Kissing his friend between its eyes, he whispered: “Always.”
Bumblebee’s engine revved. He crawled back a bit just enough that his face was level with the boy’s penis. Without using his hands and fingers, turning his head round and round, he found a trajectory and lowered his head such that the human’s erection fit right into his mouth-vent-hole.
“You can do that? You can really really do that? Oh, god, Bee – you are so awesome!”
“Yes, Sam, I got it out of the internet.”
“That’s not all I learned from the internet,” Bee continued. “Save your energy, because we’re having a lemon party at 8pm!”
A sound, like the hum of a sharpener when fed a pencil, reverberated through Bumblebee’s head. Sam did not know what to think –
Well, if he thought Bumblebee might be about to sharpen his penis, he probably out to pull out.
– the shock of it was unexpected – his erection softened, however, as soon as the sound muffled he relaxed. A stream of air was sucked between his shaft and the insides of the hole. The hole itself squeezed until his erection returned.
As if engineered that way the boy fit snugly inside the mouth of the autobot.
I’m having a hard time imagining what kind of environment on Cybertron caused the Transformers to evolve in such a way as to produce mouths specifically to give blowjobs to human teenage boys.
The vent leaked oil that trickled along what was left, un-engulfed, of his penis.
WARNING: DO NOT SMOKE WHILE RECEIVING A BLOWJOB FROM YOUR VEHICLE
The sensation of the air brushing along his skin mixed with the oil’s wet and hot texture and the head’s rhythmic up and down motion to produce a torrent of pleasure he did not dare imagine as possible. He loved his car and thanked every god by name their paths crossed.
“O – M – G!” he struggled to speak between fits of gasping. “You got this just by looking at pictures?” he asked biting his lip.
Did… did Sam just say “Oh em gee”? Out loud? On purpose. Christ, Abraxas, I knew you were evil, but I didn’t know you were that evil.
“I found a guide to fellatio,” Bumblebee explained – his voice and his mouth were disconnected. “Is it working, Sam?”
“Oh, god, yes!” He tensed and exhaled squeezing the last drop of air out of his lungs. “Bee – oh, Bee, oh my god, Bee!”
“No, seriously, a bee got into the garage! Ahhh! Get it away, I’m allergic! Aaaaaaa!”
Bumblebee worked on Sam’s penis relentlessly like a robot.
Abraxas failed his simile saving throw.
The sound of oil slurping and dripping filled the garage. That thick, onyx syrup poured onto the boy’s erection and bathed the area between his legs. They struggled to keep quiet but it was a very lost cause.
That’s not the only lost cause around here.
Sam wanted to cry Bumblebee’s name at the top of his lungs as the juices that churned to boil inside of his sack raced to erupt out of his body. A few moans and groans. A teary-eyed whimper. Frustration reduced the excitement to its absolute vocal minimum.
But the autobot’s stroking only got more and more furious as time passed. The sucking, too, got intense. And the inside of Bumblebee’s hole spasmed with waves that crawled up and down against Sam’s erection.
Is Bumblebee having a mouthgasm? I feel like I should be more weirded out by this. Oh, FFF, you have truly ruined me.
“Oh, god, you are so good to me! Oh, no one takes care of me like Bumblebeeee!”
“Dest-i-ny! Dest-i-ny! No escaping that for me!”
With a shriek – muffled by a finger – and a shudder from head to toe, Sam exploded inside of Bumblebee’s head. The sucking stopped. The stroking continued then eased then ended. Until the last drop of cum was milked. The penis came out of mouth with a wet, sloppy pop.
“Bee, oh, Bee…”
Meanwhile, a light popped on Bumblebee’s dashboard, indicating the Autobot’s semen levels had just been topped off.
The autobot looked up, eyes beaming a bright day-like blue, spunk oozing like a web of drool, through its armor.
The end. Abraxas has plenty more Sam and Bee fics if you’re interested in their other antics, and there’s a link to them at the bottom. But let us move on to one of my favorite Abraxas works, i.e. the one that makes me weep uncontrollably whenever I think of it.
Inuyasha and Kagome in “Sauce”
Kagome was not into the sub, with its sticky, messy droppings – and did not know why she entered that fast food joint.
Me either. Subway is terrible.
Except that maybe she was really, really hungry.
Then she definitely should have gone some place else.
Alas…right through the entrance she hated it. The customers. The ‘artists’. And the whole, ridiculous sandwich order process.
Why could it not be like WacDonald’s with its menu?
Really, Abraxas? You’re worried McDonald’s might come after you for mentioning their shitty fastfood chain in your erotic fan fic, yet specifically naming the Transformers and Inuyasha and all the other characters you write about sodomizing each other are somehow fine?
All those misgivings evaporated when she gazed at the ‘artist’: the silver-haired, amber-eyed Adonis Inuyasha! The beast was as irritated as the beauty was as annoyed by the process. From the start their exchange was hostile. Animosity transmitted through inflections and annoyances within the words they exchanged were nothing compared to the power of attraction.
So to be clear: Inuyasha is working at a Subway sandwich shop. Makes Shia the Beef getting to third base with his Camaro seem pretty banal, doesn’t it?
She wanted to devour that foot long sub!
And somewhere, Jared the Subway Spokesman sheds a single tear of jealousy.
If only the counter did not stand between them…
Also if only the place didn’t smell like grade-d meat and wilted lettuce…
Kagome stormed into her room and jumped onto her bed. The sandwich awaited yet she was exhausted.
Wait, does Kagome have a Subway franchise in her bedroom? What the fuck is going on here?
After the growls urged when she agonized between getting lettuce or spinach, pickles or olives…then haggling to obtain the newest, freshest samples.
I don’t know if you’ve seen Inuyasha, but I assure you Kagome is such a bitch I can completely see her arguing with some poor bastard working behind the counter at Subway to get “fresher” vegetables for her shitty $5 sandwich.
The climax came when she changed her mind just as the vegetable hit the chicken/cheese combo. The ‘artist’ exploded with a flurry of curses and it stirred the girl like coal aroused fire.
Then Inuyasha spat in Kagome’s sandwich; it stirred the girl like air arouses a kite. Or like a rubber ducky arouses water. Or something.
It was such a thrill that she was too excited to eat – and it was then and there that she explored the offspring of their dalliance.
The bread – he sliced it, no, he cleaved it twain, making a vulva out of it.
You know, one of those white, 12-inch long vulvas all the ladies seem to have nowadays.
Splayed, willing and ready to be ravaged, he pounded chicken onto it, slathering everything with sauce. She relived it, again and again, watching that sandwich swell with food like a clitoris budding through lips and leaking its love.
Wait. First the sandwich was a penis, then it was a vulva, and now it’s a clitoris? Look, I’m less worried about mixing all these metaphors and more worried that Subway makes terrible fucking sandwichs. If any part of your genitalia reminds you of any kind of Subway sandwich, see a doctor immediately.
The cheese – she gasped as shock spiraled through her body just watching it drop onto the meat. He stirred that orgy and baked it until the joys blended into a goo of ecstasy.
The foreplay only began – then came the toppings!
Actually, I think at this point, Jared the Subway spokesman is probably masturbating furiously.
Kagome reached into her skirt, onto her panties. It was soaking wet with the juices of her sex. Her vulva was swollen and as sticky with sauce as the sandwich the ‘artist’ raped in front of her eyes, at her direction.
Two notes about this paragraph:
1) Kagome has a sandwich in-between her legs, and, like most Subway sandwiches, it’s dripping.
2) If Inuyasha is actually at the toppings portion of the sandwich-making, the only things he could be “raping” Kagome’s sandwich with are: Tomatos, onions, pickles, green peppers, jalpenos, lettuce, olives, spinach, salt, pepper, or bacon (for an extra $1.50). None of those things seem phallic enough to me to “rape” a sandwich with, no matter how vulva-like the bread is. I think we can all agree that at this point Inuyasha has just stuck his dick in the sandwhch, right?
And then that day everything changed.
That was the day… Jared died.
That day she felt an extra special twang of pleasure when she approached the counter – as well as feared her skirt would be a lot wetter by the time she finished.
There was Inuyasha, slapping his gloves onto his hands.
“No.” Kagome reached over that sliver of counter where no barrier separated them. “I want your fingers on my meat. Probing. Digging. All over and through my meat!”
“All over and through my highly processed meat product containing water, preservatives, smoke flavorings, and other additives!”
He watched, eyes like plates, gazing in shock as those clear plastic gloves came off… For a moment there was skin to skin contact and it seemed his cheeks found a shade of red to match his shirt. He looked about but they were alone and he did not know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
“The flatbread,” she said.
Hey, is Kagome ordering another sandwich? Oink oink!
He reached toward the cabinet where there was a single item of flatbread left – then lay it atop the counter.
“Feel the textures,” she whispered, “feel its skin…it’s like a woman’s skin, down, down…”
“Lady, if I give you a coupon for a free regular soft drink, will you please go the fuck away?” asked Inuyasha plaintively. “You are seriously creeping me out, and I say that as a dog-demon already working entry-level at a fast food restaurant.”
He looked at the girl then at the sandwich – and stroked the bread.
She felt her lips swell and her clit rub against the fabric of the panties just watching the ‘artist’ at work.
That would be the tiny clitoral sandwich of her larger vaginal sandwich, correct?
“Now – chicken, slowly, slowly,” she directed.
He slapped a carton of chicken onto the flatbread and formed the meat into a mound.
“The cheese but tear it with those hands smeared with my chicken. Tear it. Drop it. Let it fall, clump by clump, until my meat is soaked…”
What does Subway’s chicken and Kagome’s vagina have in common? You can get salmonella from eating both of them.
Kagome felt a drop of wetness escape the confines of her panties and fall like a tear down the inside of her thigh and down and down…
Would that be: mayo, light mayo, regular mustard, spicy brown mustard, honey mustard, ranch, southwest chipotl?, sweet onion vinaigrette, olive vinaigrette, buffalo sauce, oil, vinegar or red wine vinaigrette dripping down your leg, Kagome? I’m betting ranch.
“Toast me, Inuyasha, let your man fire melt me!”
Inuyasha placed the flatbread and chicken and cheese onto a tray. Then spun and eased it into the oven. He thanked god that they were alone until he realized that without the sandwich between them it was just she and he. His pulse raced as he turned to see what the girl was up to.
She had inserted her first sandwich into her vagina and was masturbating with it.
Her eyes were down to watch his hands as they trembled, played with each other. Interlock. Shake. She could not help but see where his pants were bulged where they had not been so before. She glanced up to his face that he tried so hard to hide with his white, long hair.
You know, at the very least I’m grateful this story stars Inuyasha and Kagome instead of Inuyasha and Sesshomaru. That would be significantly worse.
Then the bell rang and he quickly took the sandwich.
“Lettuce. Tomato.” She gasped. Her right thigh brushed against her left leg. Her body weakened by waves of orgasm. She reached into her pocket – which had been spit to allow access to her panties – and felt how wet and hot and swollen she became. “And sauce – oh, god – sauce, sauce, sauce!”
“SERIOUSLY YOU CRAZY BROAD THERE ARE 18 DIFFERENT SAUCES. YOU HAVE TO PICK ONE. YOU CAN’T JUST SAY ‘SAUCE’ AND EXPECT ME TO KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT.”
Inuyasha gasped as the last of the sauce squirted through the tip of the bottle. His hand weakened and the bottle tumbled onto the floor. The sandwich, splayed in front of them on the counter, was swimming in those juices.
He folded it into a wrap…
She reached it with her own, wet hand.
For a moment her love juice and his sauce exchanged!
They both needed to wash their hands!
Now she looked at the sandwich… She picked it up and stroked its length up and down. She felt what his own raw naked fingers felt. She pressed her face into its folds and inhaled. Her lips, already swollen and hot and wet, parted to reveal the bud of her clitoris. Almost without thought she pressed the foot long sandwich against her slit. Its textures teased the flesh of her sex.
OH MY GOD SHE REALLY IS GOING TO MASTURBATE WITH THE SUBWAY SANDWICH I INSTINCTIVELY KNEW IT WAS COMING ABRAXAS WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
She rubbed it, twitching and heaving and tensing and flexing… The bread started to rip away. Its innards spilled all over her skin like a spew of love from Inuyasha. Across time and space and sandwiches his fingers sought and probed those places now stroke by stroke turned into artwork with bits and pieces of the food.
Three co-workers entered the Subway to see the teenage schoolgirl with the submarine sandwich sticking half-way out of her vagina. After a lengthy pause, one quietly said, “So… Chipotl?, then?” The other two nodded slowly, and the three backed slowly out of the door.
Kagome screamed Inuyasha as her lips swelled with the heat of her fire and nothing but wads of meat and cheese remained of her sandwich.
Bullshit. If you’ve ever bought a Subway sandwich you know how little meat and cheese actually come on them. More likely she ended up with a soggy pile of lettuce and green peppers stuck in her twat.
But alas, that’s the end! While the perverts and/or Topless Roboteers of the internet may weep that Abraxas will no longer writing new fan fics, there are still plenty to enjoy. His original works are located here, and you can see the FFF versions of “The Esnovelotoris Amateuris”, the self-obvious insanity that is “Pop My Balloon, Cheetara!” and the Avatar: the Last Airbender-inspired madness that is “Momo, Do You Dream of Hungry Eskimos?” at their respective links. Thank you, Dr. Abraas, for making us scream in horror about… well, just about everything, really. Salud!