Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.
Author's Note: This is a reworked version of a story I wrote years ago with the same name (minus the 'Redux'). While the first half has many, smaller, changes of its own I felt were necessary to create a preferred tone, the second half is brand new and, in my opinion, necessary to make a 'first chapter' feel complete, since I felt the last version ended prematurely (hardy har har). It also gives me a reason to start writing more for this story, so expect more to come (eventually).
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Alright, the recording has officially started. This is Nicole Scarlette recording the story of one Nick A. Stratton, the self-proclaimed perpetrator of the "Bubble Gum Pop" incident. Mr. Stratton, sir, do you willfully acknowledge these conditions?
"Of course, ma'am. And may I say, your tits are absolutely am-"
Fantastic. Then let's begin.
*****
If a grey box, let's say one foot by one foot, bounced off of the back of an equally grey van marked "FBI," what would you do? Let's also say it's relatively light, with probably about twenty or so smaller boxes shuffling around inside of it, perfectly symmetric on every side, and labeled only with "4zA1" in Times New Roman font. Would you try to flag down the car? Maybe you'd drop it off at the post office? Maybe you'd even just leave it there- someone would realize it's gone and pick it up anyway, right? If you answered 'Yes' to any of these, then you're obviously not the guy in question here. Because good ol' Nick here went ahead and did none of those things, and, hot damn, does that leave me with a story to tell you.
Now, let's not get mixed up with anything, here. When I say it "bounced off the back of the truck", that's exactly what I mean. It bounced off of a goddamn truck. No shady mafia dealings, no infiltrating Area 51, no sucking the President's dick-- some poor sap just didn't secure a latch or something. Even if you don't believe me, just know that this is coming from the same government that stores the launch codes for 4,018 nuclear missiles on motherfucking floppy disks for Christ's sake. I mean, I'm a man of tradition, myself, but c'mon. My tax dollars can pay for each and every one of those missiles, but not a goddamn $5 USB drive from Walmart?
Mr. Stratton, please, get back to the matter at hand. And please stop trying to look up my skirt.
Yeah, of course, of course- I just get sidetracked every now and then.
Anyway, that's how it happened. I finished an honest day's work digging graves at the Home when I decided to take a brisk 30 minute break. I mean, graves don't dig themselves, but I have a feeling that whoever I'm digging 'em for doesn't really care whether they end up on sacred ground or in touchy Uncle Al's basement. I mean, from what I've seen, dead people aren't really opinionated these days.
Mr. Stratton, could you please list your place of employment by name for the record?
Sure, if you unbutton your top two buttons.
I'll throw you back in jail faster than you can say "sexual harassment charges", Mr. Stratton.
Christ, I get it. I'm just having some fun here. It was Mortimer's Holy Home of Rest. Can I move on to the interesting part, now?
Sure.
Thank god. Anyway, I was taking a smoke when the situation I described earlier happened exactly like that. I jumped out into the road and picked up the box, bringing it back into the graveyard. No one's ever around anyway, Morty's is a place where people go to die with the special addition of being forgotten. Sitting down at the back of some rich guy's tomb stone, I decided to see what the good Lord hath provided for mine humble self. Alas, it was only bubble gum. Needless to say, I was pretty bummed, so I just pocketed a pack and put the rest in my locker.
A couple of hours later, I left for home. I mean, if you could call it "home." Aaliyah was always there these days, and I swear she'd leave my milk uncapped on purpo-
Who's Aaliyah?
Ah, right. Aaliyah's my roommate's girlfriend. Oh man, I gotta tell you this, 'On the record'; Aaliyah is absolutely banging, just a ten outta ten. Five-foot-five, black hair the color of Death's scythe, 28D tits, bright pink panties that always ride up her gorgeous heart-shaped ass, wicked tight yoga pants, and absolutely nothing going on upstairs. She's the perfect woman. Well, except for her personality. Total bitch. Like you wouldn't believe.
Anyway, when I got home I- well, you have the tape, right?
Yes, we were given your sex tape as a submission of evidence. For the purposes of this investigation, the legality of video taping this Aaliyah's activities will be overlooked for the near future.
Great, then go ahead and slam that big guy in there. Just don't be surprised at how great it feels.
That was a really poor attempt at a sex joke.
Well, you miss all the shots you don't take. Let's get on with it, yeah?
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April 17th, 2017.
Subject: Nick Stratton
Case #112981
Location: Arkwright, MI
Fruitlessly searching for my house keys in my jacket, I opened up every zipper. Completely empty. I weighed my options. I could either ask Aaliyah to get the door for me from inside, or start the five mile walk back to my locker at work. It was a tough choice. Right before making my trek back to work, I remembered that I was home much earlier than usual. Aaliyah would most likely only be wearing a tank top and booty shorts. And she never wore a bra in her home tank tops.
"Aaliyah! Hey, get over here! Open the door for me!" I shouted, knocking on the door. The response came very quickly.
"Damn it, Nick, stop leaving your fucking keys at work! You're annoying!" Ah, the sweet, sweet voice of the shocked and mostly undressed female. "You already owe me from last time. Why should I let you in now?"
Ugh. She was right. Searching for an answer, I dug into my pockets as if God himself had somehow provided me with a bargaining tool. Then, running my hand over the pack of gum, I realized He did.
"I stopped and picked you up some gum at the corner store one the way home to make up for it. This'll make us even, right?" I said. Opening the wooden door a crack, Aaliyah poked her head out to confirm. Despite having some bed head, Aaliyah always made sure she was wearing the perfect amount of make up. Glossy red lipstick, long dark eyelashes to complement emerald eyes, the perfect amount of blush on her cheeks...
"Hand it over, fuckwit."
But goddamn, that personality was something else.
I cautiously slid the gum through the crack, fearful that she may slam the door on my digits at any moment.
"You got the cheap shit, didn't you?"
"What? Of course not, that gum is practically priceless." Literally. No price. Free of charge.
I could hear the sound of unwrapping tinfoil as Aaliyah experimented with the first piece of gum. God, I hoped it wasn't nicotine or some shit.
Click.
"Fine. You can come in." She said.
Bursting through the door, I was welcomed by the delectable sight of Aaliyah in nothing but pink panties that hugged her ass in all the right ways, and a grey top that was so thin, the tips of her nipples poked out in the material, forming two muddled grey points on the ends of her beautiful tits.
"How's the gum?" I asked, genuinely curious. I had no idea what flavor that was; it could've been gunpowder for all I know.
Aaliyah's obnoxious chewing began to calm down as she started her response. "I don't think..." she said, "I've ever had anything with this taste before."
With every bite on the piece of grey gum in her mouth, Aaliyah's eyes slowly became more unfocused- as if she had stopped staring at me, and was now looking through me, into the next dimension.
"Hello? Earth to Aaliyah?" I said.
No response.
I slowly walked up to her, starting to fear that I gave her arsenic gum or something of the like.
"Aaliyah? Can you say something for me?" I said, waving my hand in front of her face.
Like a robot, she responded, "Something."
"Smartass. You had me worried there for a second. Are you feeling okay?"
Without skipping a beat, Aaliyah said "I feel slightly uncomfortable with the fact that you're home yet my boyfriend is not. I feel a bit hungry, since I'm on a diet. I feel really horny, since you came home while I was watching porn, and because it turns me on to tease you."
