Magical Mystery Tour Ch. 03

Fantasy 3: THE POP SEDUCTRESS IN DISTRESS

Our swinging hero Arnold Craven had gone back to Madame Rose for his next fantasy trip session. Nothing of those crap games occurred anymore preceding the latest meeting with her. He was directed to go straight to a suite room at the Grand Hollywood Hotel.

In the suite room where only the lamps were lit Arnold followed the instruction and the first was to switch on the huge TV set. Madame Rose appeared on the flat screen TV and conversed with him. Still her identity remained enigmatic as her face appeared partly hidden and all that could be seen from her was her nose down to her décolletage to die for.

Arnold told her that he'd decided to quit playing the role of James Bond in his fantasy. Neither was he taking those girls in the 60s. He wanted to play himself, although much younger and virile of course and chose to play the hero rescuing a damsel in distress. The damsel he chose was the phenomenal pop princess Britney Spears and he as an F.B.I. agent.

That said, he would fork much higher bucks as the girl he'd chosen was contemporary, currently youthful and at the height of her fame, according to Madam Rose. Money was no problem for Arnold and so his wish was granted.

The usual two goblets filled with the enigmatic potion were already set there for Arnold along with a special gadget that he had to use to watch the complimentary entertainment treat usually given while he sipped his drink. Unlike the programs before where the entertainers were seen in person, this time Arnold would watch the Olympic games in Greece on TV. However, the special gadget were x-ray glasses so he would get to see the athletes without a stitch of clothing including the referees, coaches and those involved.

Arnold had great fun watching as never in the history of his life nor for any entertainment matter had he witnessed such a show. Surely, more than ever, it was a fortune to pay such indulgences.

After he consumed the potion, Arnold felt his body spin like a freebee and shoot into oblivion. In a matter of moments he found himself standing on a side street looking across rows of houses spaced reasonably wide apart from each other.

Our hero looked kinda like a younger Pierce Brosnan wearing a blue surf shirt with subdued prints and a darker pair of linen pants and Rocksport leather casual. It was a windy summer and the breeze mussed his black tousled hair as he crossed the street.

When Arnold rang the doorbell thrice at one particular house, a man in his thirties with dirty blonde hair answered the door. The man just opened a crack and peered without unhinging the chain lock.

"Yeah?" The man spoke.

"Sorry to bother you buddy. I'm a lost tourist down here and I wonder if I could use your phone," Arnold said.

"You're a stranger," the man answered sort of queerly eyeing him from head to foot.

Arnold flashed a 50 dollar bill that told he was willing to pay for the inconvenience. The man relented, opened the door and gestured to him to enter.

A musty smell wafted his nostrils as he followed the man inside and observed that the place looked like a neglected dress shop.

"This place is familiar to me. I don't know if I'd seen this place in a movie," Arnold said.

The man was wearing an Indian long sleeved shirt sloppily tucked in Levi's. After he retrieved the phone from under the counter he spoke with a knowing smile.

"You know, you're making an alibi, the reason you came here is because you're after me."

"Why should it be so?" Arnold asked.

"Because I am the most wanted gay in this town," he replied cheekily checking the phone if it had a dial tone or not.

"S' that so?" Arnold said as he was briefly distracted by a big butterfly fluttering by and landing on a colorful spool of thread.

"You should see me with my make up on, I look like Britney Spears," she laughed a brittle laugh."

Instinct swiftly told him that this man was FBI's most wanted man—Flinger Bunting –the serial killer whose penchant was skinning off his victims which had been mostly girls. The two clues that linked him were first, the butterfly that he saw which this man had been known to cultivate and the mention of Britney Spears who had been reported missing for two days and believed to have been kidnapped in the vicinity of her Sta Monica penthouse. Acting fast, Arnold flashed his FBI ID wallet badge, and drew his 301 Browning from the small of his back and pointed it to him.

"Freeze! F.B.I." He said.

The man shook with more laughter. "You're funny. Where's your gun?"

Arnold gulped fearfully when he noticed that he had no gun in his hand, but eventually the gun materialized in his hand in an instant. The man changed his expression.

"I said freeze!," he repeated. "Turn around. Put your hands on your hand." His voice barked aloud.

Knowing that in the movie he saw, this man would make his quick escape, and so he quickly picked up a stone object he spotted and hurled it to him just as the man attempted to duck into the kitchen. The object hit the man just below his back skull and he fell on his face on the floor knocking him out of his senses.

Arnold moved forward and handcuffed the guy's one hand, dragged him further into the kitchen and chained his other hand to an old metal pipe under the kitchen sink. Suddenly he heard a sound. A distress crying of a girl. He noticed that an entrance on the floor leading to the cellar was opened. He went down the stairwell into a dungeon-like hideaway. Swiveling side to side with his gun for protection, he came upon a pit and located the girl crying:

"Please get me out of here." The voice pleaded.

By the naked bulb hanging over the pit Arnold peered down trying to make out who the girl could be. "Are you Britney Sprears?"

"Yes I am. Who are you?" She was standing face up her hands cupping the side of her mouth.

"FBI. I'll get you out. Is your kidnapper alone?"

"Yes."

"I'll just try to find a ladder or rope to get you out of there."

"'kay. Please hurry. Where is he? Did you arrest him?"

"I handcuffed him. He's upstairs."

"Don't let him get away. He's a dangerous man. He's going to kill me I know." Her panicky voice said.

"Don't worry other officers will arrive and they'll get him. Just hang in there. Holy shit!" He spat in disgust. He'd come upon the killer's lab or skinning room where big moths flew overhead and saw a 'skin suit' fitted on a dressmaker's dummy.

"What the hell...? Arnold reacted to the horror at the sight he just found. In a bathroom off the workroom, he found a female hand and wrist extending out of a murky mixture in a bathtub.

Britney cried again. "Bring me out of here officer."

"Hold on I found the rope ladder."

Moments later, he had gotten Britney out of the pit. She looked like a train wreck and her clothes were dirty, her cropped top was almost shredded and her low cut shorts were half-opened showing her light green stringed thong. She sobbed on his shoulder and he gave him a comforting hug.

"Did he hurt you?"

"He drugged me."

"Can you walk up the stairs?"

"Yeah," she gasped. They climbed the steps side by side with her one arm around his shoulder. He held her wrist while his other hand wrapped around her waist for support.

"Oops!" Britney missed her step and Arnold accidentally cupped one of her fulsome breasts which slipped out from under her cropped shirt.

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright. You saved my life," Britney said.

"Your skin is kinda greasy."

"I know, he threw me a lotion bottle in there telling me to rub it on my body from every two hours."

"It's a prelude before skinning you off."

"Oh god, he's insane."

Finally they were up in the kitchen and the killer was still there chained to the pipe and unconscious.

"Son-of-a-bitch!" she cried and stumped her foot on the killer's solar plexus.

"Alright, calm down Britney, calm down," Arnold said getting her out of the killer's body as she tried to kick his body again swearing in torrents:

"Go to hell, you sack of shit!" she cried.

"We're leaving out of here. We're going to pass the back door," Arnold said.

Arnold saw the car key peeking out of the killer's pocket. "Wait. Maybe we could use his car to get away from here."

"Where are we going?"

"To my camper right down the river nearby, so you could change."

The moment Arnold said that a puff of smoke covered them and when it cleared away they were already inside the Winnebago, Adventurer. Not a chance they had to use the killer's vehicle.

Inside the recreational vehicle Britney collapsed on the floor.

"Oh my god, Britney, c'mon, what's the matter don't pass out on me! He said rapping lightly her cheek, holding her by the jaw and jerking her face back and forth but there was no response.

"C'mon Britney, wake up," he said. No use. Arnold felt her pulse and it was beating normally. He thought that she just succumbed to over fatigue due to stress and that she'd come off it after awhile. But his heart was beating faster like a runner. And who wouldn't? She's the pop seductress giving him an in your face flesh look of her sun-kissed body lying vulnerably on the floor.

A piece of work her body was--half virginal, half sex vixen face. Arnold could hardly contain the sudden surge of stripping her down item by item. Across her top was written in small print: If you can read this print your damn too close. Damn right he was. A breath away to touch her celebrated body.

The temptation is inebriating. He couldn't pull off her eyes on every part of her body. Her skimpy clothes hardly covered them. From the sight of her bosomy chest to her toned abs leading to her gaping shorts under which peeked a light green thong that made her luscious hips all the more delectable plus the supple limbs in enticing positions could make a guy go insane.

He palmed her thigh up but stopped its course at the opening leg of her frayed shorts as sudden guilt swamped him. He thought of her ordeal in that pit and at the hands of that kooky bastard and what was he doing to her? It was out of character of him to force his desire at her. She's a helpless girl and out of her senses. It was pathetic and cheap an act for him to do. He quickly resolved his naughty intent and instead scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed and laid her there. He sat for a while on the edge of the bed and looked at the mirrored wall and waited for his aching erection to subside. God it won't quit, better get out here. At least he had thought of peeling off her sneakers and covered her with the blanket then left her in the room.

Triumphant over the temptation, he walked guilt-free into the kitchen to browse for anything to eat. He opened the small fridge and found a bag of Doritos and tuna dip. There was a big bowl which he retrieved and smelled. It was cream of mushroom soup and a fleeting smile crossed his lips at the idea that he would just reheat it. There was also a box of pizza and all he had to do was put them in the microwave and presto they have something to eat. He was sure she'd wake up.

Arnold took a shower first and afterward dabbed Black by Kenneth Cole on his face and hard chest. The vision of the erection-inducing Britney lying there on the sofa was priming his cock and balls as it continued popping into his head like those pop up commercials in the Internet. All the more so when he switched on the radio and a club-savvy beat with Britney singing or moaning came on from the piped-in speakers. Although he's not offended with postpubescent kind of music, he preferred at this moment some music that's more soothing and tender so he turned the dial and sought for this kind. Acting like a civilized man as he could be he slipped into heather gray track pants to keep his rampant cock at bay and threw in a plain white cotton T for good measure. After brushing quickly his black raven hair he proceeded to heat the food items he found in the microwave. As he was putting the pizza inside the microwave oven, he heard Britney rose from the bed and came right behind him.

"How are you?" He turned to her.

"Oh, thirsty," she said holding her forehead. Arnold gave her a glass of water but that wasn't enough, she drank two or three more to quench her raging thirst.

"Ahh, I guess I'm alright now. I could smell you. You smell nice," she said in a still weak voice.

Erotic thoughts run through his private mind.

"You passed out but I think you just gotta sleep."

"I've slept enough. Look, I'm embarrassed here. Mind if I go in there and take a shower? I think I smell like a desert camel here." Her voice sounded better.

"No, go ahead," he said. "Holler if you need anything else."

"Thanks, you're very kind," she said and left the door ajar. He heard the ping from the microwave and he replaced the pizza with soup and bread.

As he was getting plates from the cupboard Britney called out over the din of the water spraying down on her.

"Hey Mister G-man what shall I call you?"

"Call me Arny"

"What? Horny? Did I hear you right?"

"Spells A-R-N-Y."

"Oh Arny O.K. I can't thank you enough Arny."

"It's a job."

"I know and you risked your life too."

"I do it all the time."

"Listen, I'm gonna radio the other officers as they were raiding the wrong place at this time. So they could come here, fetch us and take custody of the criminal."

When Britney emerged out of the tub she was wearing a white terry robe and didn't bother to tie the sash. "This robe is kinda heavy. Can I look into your closet to find some lighter clothes?"

"Help yourself and then come here and eat some food. You must be hungry."

"Yeah, I could smell it. It's delicious," she said over her shoulder as she padded into the bedroom.

Britney shucked off the robe and flung it on the bed. He stole a quick sideways glance and saw her spectacular ass through the open door but forced himself to the task of setting the food and plates on the dinette table.

"Arny, look what I've found, some really cozy clothes." Britney smiled for the first time since the rescue. She emerged wearing a male tank top and loose pants that threatened to fall down from her glorious hips. She raised the tank top just under the swell of her breasts to display her tummy and hooked her thumbs in the belt loops pushing all the more the pants at dangerously low level displaying her flat hungry tummy. As she posed like that in front of him, his cock became embarrassingly erect.

Get down you fool! He ordered mentally as if he had any authority over his stubborn cock.

"Like it?"

Arnold tried as much to hide his erection by facing his pelvis close to the kitchen counter. Too late, her casting glance at his crotch was much too quick. His expression gave away.

"Honestly, I know that this is quite ungentlemanly to say, but you just gave me a giant hard-on that I think can crack ice." He gave up trying to hide.

"Oh wow, what a way to put it," she said feeling her knees go mushy.

"I like to talk to a no-holds barred, honest-to-goodness kind of gentleman who's horny like a bull but with an existing self-control," she said with a knowing smile while her eyes darted back and forth to the tenting in his stretchable pants. Obviously he had no underwear.

"You know I also took the liberty of putting on a little make up." She changed the subject to ease him off the tension. His face was tinted with a blush.

"How come you have some make up here and my favorite at that? And even perfume. Were they your girlfriend's? Wife's? Mother or who?" She said shrugging her shoulders with open hands.

He hesitated to answer and gazed at her like a student suddenly called by the teacher to answer a difficult question.

"No I don't have a girlfriend and my wife's been dead."

"Oh sorry to hear that. But how come you still have girls' make up?"

"Honestly I don't know. I don't even own this camper. This was provided for me and they must have stacked it with whatever they could think of."

"Well, some kick-ass camper, huh?"

"C'mon let's eat." Arnold invited though his appetite was obviously not on food.

"Hmmm, this soup is yummy," she said squeezing her eyes shut. "Thick and creamy." She slurped, wrapped her lips around the spoon, and sucked it while throwing a flirtatious glance at him.

"Hey, here's some chips and dips, pizza from New York Pizza Delivery and Pepsi."

"Wow, my favorite!"

Britney ripped open a bag of extra cheesy Doritos, dipped one into a bowl of dip cream, crunched loudly and wiped off the excess orange dust on the thighs of her falling down pants.

"Sorry, I'm just stuffin' my face here," she said in a perky Louisiana accent, then jammed a slice of pizza in her mouth.

After eating, Britney slumped herself on the sofa with one leg up and took a swig off her Pepsi in can. "How long would it take for the other officers to arrive at the scene." She appeared to be calculating something in her mind.

"Don't worry. They won't take long. They're on their way by now," he said and to check, he stood on a chair, opened the sunroof and emerged his upper body holding up the high-tech binoculars to his eyes. Evening was setting in and from afar he could see the highway and the road leading to the killer's lair. The highway crossing a long bridge was almost empty with vehicles plying about.

Britney almost jumped out of the sofa and fixed her face inches away from his crotch. The bulge now looked no more than a slight jut unlike awhile. She would like to see his erection grow again. For whatever reason or emotion, a wanton urge struck her to suck his cock.

Soon a chain of vehicles with headlights on appeared in Arnold's binoculars. He presumed this was the raiding team he was expecting.

"Arny, what's happening there?"

"I'm seeing a convoy of cars on the highway now and a chopper hovering above. This must be the raiding team," he replied.

Aware that Britney's face was centimeters to his crotch and feeling her hot breath transcend his track pants, he wished he didn't radio them just yet.

Suddenly Arnold's eyes bugged out and almost dropped the binoculars as he felt Britney whirled her face against his bulge with her hand under his crotch.

"Britney ahh..." his voice faltered. She pushed down his pants freeing his burgeoning cock. Her eyebrows jumped up to its glorious features, well-sculpted head and a network of veins underneath stretched skin, and taut as a bowstring as it appeared it was. Britney beamed like a child in Disneyland. She pedaled a few steps back and grabbed something on the dinette. When she moved forward to his cock again she held it like the way she does to a microphone and then knowing how pliant it was she used it to wipe off the remaining mushroom soup it in the bowl she took. When it was all smeared up by the creamy, delicious soup, she tossed the plastic bowl at the sofa and began sucking and licking his cock with her warm and drooling mouth. His cock zoomed like a high-powered paparazzi camera lens. Bolts of pleasure ripped through him as Britney sucked him off earnestly making lewd gobbling noises. Arnold was of course startled, but willingly gave in to the sensation.

"Britney, they're coming!" But she didn't let up with his warning and continued licking all over him, like she would a tasty lollipop.

"Do we have time for a frickkin' quickie?"

He heard her say but he was dizzy with pleasure that all he could manage to answer was, "Uhhh."

Arnold felt his knees start to buckle as she sucked him without let up holding the base of his cock with one hand and the other dragging lightly her cracked fingernails over his abs , pelvis and cupping his balls with an insinuating finger beyond them. Thinking that he might fall awkwardly down as he could hardly stay upright, he decided to slip back in carefully.