PREOCCUPIED WITH COULD
BY
GLEN PICKARD
Ian Malcolm thrusted his greased
dino-explorer deep into the triceratops’s waiting unexplored
anal caverns. Thrust. Thrust. Thrust. The beast’s groans of
approval echoed round the small security room, as Malcolm grunted his
own response, and looked up at the wall of video monitors in front of
him. As the sweat dripped from his brow, Ian observed the hundreds of
camera feeds in front of him, and allowed his mind to wonder over the
passionate possibilities. So many Jurassic joinings in waiting, he
could taste the potential. As he glanced T-rex’s, raptors and
the other delicious delights of the park, he became lost in his
visionary violations. . .
The drenched leathery hide of a
waiting T-rex dinominge, begging for genetic input. Elongated talons
ripping through yellow eyes, smeared in four day old pterodactyl
excrement. Raptor tails smacking dryly against a cold kitchen floor,
their image distorted in the reflection of the imploded pan cabinet.
The fantastic, erection-inducing promise of a distant, tree-shaking
roar. Freshly formed enormous footprints in warm mud, the taste of
watery underfoot. Playful jungle flirtations with deadly punch lines.
Horns splashed with racid semen and tears, so pure. The honest smell
on the wind, tasty new stomach gifts of meat and bone, in sweat
soaked wrapping paper. Failed Brachiosaurus rim job attempts. Nothing
but poo salad for nine days. An uncannily moist Velociraptor face
clawing. Manically chasing the Gallimimus, unholy thumping speed sex.
Gorging on live Dilophosaurus babies, spitting out skulls. The shame
of broken T-rex eggshells and a cold frying pan. Ménage a
triceratops. Blood stained raptor teeth tenderly pleasuring a
Brachiosaurus leg.
It was this final image that threw
Malcolm’s body into a sexual frenzy, his manhood erupting into
his beast partner as tears fell down his face. He was in heaven, and
yet ashamed of his appetites. He wiped himself off on the
triceratops’s middle horn, kicked it in the face, and walked
out slowly, leather trousers still around his ankles, tears streaming
from his eyes.