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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Comedy · #1930837
1. Battle of the Bands - "Half Man, Half Dinosaur, All Rock Star!"
The bass line went: Thum dumdumdum-dum dum!
Thum dumdumdum-dum dum!
Thum dumdumdum-dum dum!
Thum dumdumdum-dum dum!

The Turk, an ancient Automaton adapted for drums, creakily reached over to a glowing Seeburg jukebox beside it and selected the song. Once the 45 was spinning, the Turk's gears clicked into motion.

The Turk went: Rish Pitish Ptish - Tish!
Rish Pitish Ptish - Tish!
Rish Pitish Ptish - Tish!
Rish Pitish Ptish – Tish!

The Feline Sensations, Felicity, Fiona & Faith, three giant svelte molly cats, sisters from a litter of eight, took up the rhythm, four steps to the front of the stage, kicking out a shapely hip to the audience, the sauntering to their mike stands in a flurry of tail, and back again.

Thum dumdumdum-dum dum!
Rish Pitish Ptish – Tish!

The crowd was building now, filling out the darkened sports hall, odd parts of their visage picked out by light refracted from the giant mirror ball rotating leisurely above them in the haze of sweat and smoke and boozy breath.

Thum dumdumdum-dum dum!
Thum dumdumdum-dum dum!

The dark throaty bassline throbbed out of the amplifiers into the hall, a primitive sexual sound felt deep in the balls and the rectum.

The atmosphere was building, three hundred people waiting for Rock Tadgers & The Feline Sensations. The Sensations were present, four steps to the front, luscious arse to the audience, back again, cat scowl out at the crowd, but still there was no lead singer.

Dave on the organ went:
Raa-waaaah wah wah wah waaaaah!
Raa-waaaah wah wah wah waaaaah!

Still no sign of Rock Tadgers. The Sensations narrowed their eyes at each other and continued their routine. The Turk went Rish Pitish Ptish - Tish! and started the record again. The atmosphere in the audience teetered somewhere between anticipation and irritation.

The bass line went again:
Thum dumdumdum-dum dum!
Thum dumdumdum-dum dum!
Thum dumdumdum-dum dum!

Where was Rock Tadgers? "Half Man, Half Dinosaur, All Rock Star!" the posters proclaimed, and he was out in the kid's play area in the snow, fucking a groupie bent over a swing. He'd been out in the dark during the previous act, through a gap in the fence behind the school bikesheds, tying his rival band's drummer, Laryngitis Lil, to the railway tracks.

It was Battle of the Bands, and Rock Tadgers & The Feline Sensations only real rival for the title was their arch-enemy, Mickie Minotaur & The Stampeders.

Rock wasn't about to let anything as banal as fair play stand in the way, and decided to get rid of Lil, the foundation on which the Stampeders built their terrifyingly rocking performances.

Thum dumdumdum-dum dum!

On his way back through the gap in the fence, he could hear his band start their set. He dipped his massive dinosaur head and flicked his tail, and set into a jog, his human arms hitched in front of him.

A girl stepped out of the shadows, wearing a long down-stuffed winter coat and knee-high leather boots. She was young, perhaps seventeen-eighteen, with one of those haircuts he despised, like she'd cut the fringe herself using a piece of broken glass.

"Hi Rock," she simpered, giving him the up-and-under with her glimmering eyes, "Can I have your autograph?"

Tadgers growled, baring his teeth. "Not now. I don't have a pen."

She blocked his path and unzipped her coat.

"It's OK, I don't have an autograph book. Perhaps you could sign this?"

She opened her coat to show she was completely naked underneath. Her skin was completely white, glowing in the moonlight like an ivory charm. She pushed up against him and her lips urgently met his jaws, guiding his hand across her goose-bumped flesh to an erect peg of nipple.

Her other hand groped his tallywhacker through the fabric of his tuxedo trousers, straining angrily at the seams. "Come on, Rock, rip me to shreds."

Tadgers glanced anxiously over at the lights of the school hall, glowing forlornly in the crystal night like a stricken passenger liner going down in an icy sea.

Thum dumdumdum-dum dum!
Rish Pitish Ptish – Tish!

Tadgers flicked out his tongue and tasted the hot slippery warmth between her legs, and unzipped his fly. His monstrous cock leapt out into the moonlight like a kamikaze mole.

Raa-waaaah wah wah wah waaaaah!

He had time.


On the railway tracks, members of The Stampeders were working frantically to untie Lil. Mickie the Minotaur, his vast bull's neck bulging from the collar of his dress shirt, paced furiously while they worked.

"He couldn't resist giving a clue, could he? What kind of clue was that? 'She had to catch the 7.53 to Leamington Spa?' Jesus!"

He rolled his muddy brown eyes, angry breath billowing from his snout.

"What time is it?"

One of his minions stopped tugging at ropes long enough to check their watch.

"It's 7.52."

Through the night air, a train horn blared, and around the bend a mile distant, the 7.53 to Leamington Spa roared.

"Get her free," Mickie ordered, "I'll delay this train."

With a mighty snort and a kick of gravel, Mickie the Minotaur charged down the track to confront the express.


Back in the playground, Rock Tadgers was chasing a young girl around with a swollen cock, up the ladder and down the slide, up and over the climbing frame. She'd orgasmed almost the moment he started fucking her, lifting her tiny body up and jamming her down onto his gigantic boner with both hands, wanking himself with her slender cunt. His helmet bulged inside her and she groaned into his reptilian neck as her pussy took the strain, and gushed juice onto his aching balls.

He fucked her doggy-style on the roundabout, her tight pussy lips stretched taut around his cock as he ravaged her, his animalistic pounding propelling them round in circles.

She managed to shake him off and they both stumbled away from the roundabout, completely dizzy, and the girl got caught up on the swing. Tadgers pounced on her, spreading her arse cheeks and launching himself up to the hilt into her clutching wetness. His snarling jaws bit into her shoulder, ripping her coat. After that, with each thrust, a cloud of feathers puffed out of her neck line, drifting down like snow until they settled in the snow.

Thum dumdumdum-dum dum!
Thum dumdumdum-dum dum!
Thum dumdumdum-dum dum!

Tadgers picked up his rhythm as he heard his band string out the intro, and looped his tail between his own legs and hers as he pumped, flipping her clit with the tip.

"Don't cum in me!" She gasped, disengaging herself from his cock, "I want to taste it!"

She knelt before him in the snow and started frantically jerking the length of his erection, mouth open and eyes closed. She started hungrily sucking on the end of it.

"It's too big for little girls like you." Tadgers contemptuously growled.

Her eyes opened and rolled over black. Her tongue, licking along the underside of his cock, split down the middle and encircled its girth.

"I've swallowed bigger." She hissed.

With a slight click, she dislocated her jaw and sucked down his cock whole, and within a couple of seconds, he shot his load down her gullet.


Thum dumdumdum-dum dum!
Thum dumdumdum-dum dum!
Rish Pitish Ptish - Tish!
Rish Pitish Ptish - Tish!

The crowd were getting agitated, and items were startling to rain down around the performers on stage.

Rock Tadgers, stuffing his wilting piece back into his trousers, burst onstage, let out a roar and grabbed the microphone.

The Feline Sensations went: Hey!

And Rock went:
Well the temperature's rising, and my feet on the floor,
Crazy people knockin 'cause they're wanting some more,
Let me in, baby, I don't know what you got,
But you better take it easy, 'cause this place is hot

And I'm so glad we made it,
So glad we made it,
You gotta gimme some lovin'

The Sensations: (Gimme some lovin'!)
Gimme some lovin'
(Gimme some lovin'!)
Gimme some lovin' every day...

The door opened at the back of the hall, and the girl Rock just fucked slipped i .  Even in the dark across a sea of heads, she met his eye and smiled, wiping the corner of her mouth with one finger.

An instant later, the door blew open again and Mickie the Minotaur blustered in, followed by the rest of his crowd.  Including Lil, looking a little unsteady on her feet.  The band headed over to the bar to grab a drink while Mickie stood at the back of the hall, arms folded and legs spread, glaring at the red dinosaur on stage.


So how did a little red dinosaur become the star of a rock and roll band?

Up until the age of five, Rock Tadgers didn't even exist, apart from in the mind of a little boy.  Luckily for Rock, he was the imaginary friend of a kid whose imagination was so vivid, he could literally dream things into creation.

And for an imaginary friend, this little boy imagined a bright red dinosaur who was everything he wasn't – outgoing, noisy, brave and naughty.  He was the same height as the boy, with an oversized T-Rex head and gigantic jaws, a dinosaur's body and tail, and his legs and arms were human in proportion.

The boy's parents could handle Rock, but they couldn't handle the other things their son dreamt up.  They tired quickly of pirates digging holes in their garden looking for treasure, and ferocious spouting whales in their bathtub.  They were fed up of their walk-in wardrobe turning into a walk-in carnivorous forest, and of the tiny galleons that appeared, eddying around the rim of the tiny whirlpool created each time they emptied the kitchen sink.

The final straw was the alien invasion.  First came the expeditionary party, which came at night and did little more than leave strange circles on the back lawn and abduct the occasional coy carp from the fish pond.

Then came the invasion force, an armada of blank grey discs that droned in over the shed roof one afternoon.

The aliens sent in the shock troops, genetically spliced coy carp warriors, which terrorized the other garden creatures.  Any signs of prolonged resistance by the frogs, hedgehogs and moles were quickly and ruthlessly subdued by pillars of fire roaring from unseen portholes in the saucer's hulls.

The inhabitants of the garden launched a brief, ill-fated counter attack.  An air force of robins, bluetits and swifts engaged the saucers, while the frogs, hedgehogs and moles formed an alliance with the garden gnomes to go hand-to-hand with the carp warriors.

The first the boy's parents knew of the invasion was when they returned from work one day to find a steady stream of refugees pouring into the kitchen through the catflap.  Birds with singed wings, gnomes with holes smashed in their ceramic heads, snails drawing cartloads of injured ladybirds and bumblebees.

Looking through the kitchen window, the boy's parents saw three dozen implacable saucers hovering over a scorched and smoking back yard.  For all their advanced technology, though, the alien craft could not withstand the onslaught from the furious mum and dad, who decimated the fleet with crushing blows from their rolling pin and cricket bat respectively.

They had their boy lobotomized in the end to prevent any further trouble, and brought up the little T-Rex as their own.  The operation on their son avoided any further incarnations of his fantasies, but diminished his personality somewhat.

Rock, on the other hand, having been born of the boy's imagination, shared many of his characteristics.  So the rude, naughty little dinosaur was brought up as a human son.


The lights dimmed, and Rock Tadgers wiped his brow with a flourish.

“Thank you, you've been a tremendous audience.” The crowd whooped and murmered, “I'd like to take it down a little, and introduce you to an astonishing vocal talent.  Ladies, gentlemen, and everything in between, I give you – Felicity Sensation!”

Rock tore himself out of the spotlight and Felicity took the mike, purring to the applause.

The Turk reached across to the jukebox and pressed H7.  The record span and the needle dropped, and the automaton's gears meshed again.

Dave switched to piano mode and went -

Doompah doompah doompah doompah doompah doompah doomp doomp
Doompah doompah doompah doompah doompah doompah doomp doomp

The Turk went -

Rishhhhh Ptish!
Rishhhhh Ptish!
Rishhhhh Ptish!

Felicity Sensation sang -

My baby don't care for shows,
My baby don't care for clothes,
My baby just cares for me...

Rock slipped away through the wings and into the hall.  A few doors down, Mickie the Minotaur and his crew barged out into the corridor and sulkily headed for their dressing room to get ready for their set.  Rock stepped into the shadows and watched them go.  Their lead guitarist, Melvin, broke away from the group.  “I'm going to drop the kids off.” He announced, disappearing into the boy's toilets.

Rock gave it a few moments and followed him in.

There was a row of four cubicles opposite the hand basins.  Rock tip-toed in, checked his look in the mirror, popped a zit, and eyed the one cubicle door that was closed.  Beneath the door, he could see the tips of Melvin's winklepickers.

Rock edged silently to the door, and listened to Melvin straining on the other side.  Melvin let rip with a fart that echoed round the bowl like a Gregorian chant, and followed up with a few rabbit pellets of shit that tinkled in the water like ice cubes in a cocktail glass.

He heard Melvin sigh and chuckle to himself, then take up the strain and go toe-to-toe with a much larger foe.  After much muted grunting, Melvin dropped an enormous depth charge of a turd, that may have cracked the porcelain.

Suddenly, the door bashed open and a young girl with wavy blonde hair staggered in.  She was so drunk her features were blurred, and she was already bringing down her panties from under her short red skirt before she made it to the cubicle, and blindly slammed into Rock.

“I think you're in the wrong bogs, love.” Rock advised.

Beneath her smudged make up, the girl's eyebrows raised, but her mascara-stained eyes stayed closed.  “Danny?” She groaned, grabbing Rock's lapels, “I think I'm going to shit myself.”

“Danny's not here.  Maybe he's waiting for you next door.”

The girl burped and gagged, “Stop messing about, Danny.  I think I drank too much!”

“Looks like you're just warming up, but I'm not Danny...”

She peeled away from him enough to lay a slap across his cheek.  “Fuck you, Danny!  You're supposed to look after me!”

She went completely loose at the knees and slumped into Rock's arms, and he felt the firm pressure of her tiny tits against his chest.

In the locked cubicle, Melvin took up the strain and resumed battle with his inner demons.

Rock had time.

“It's OK, Danny's here.” he said, and shuffled the girl into the neighbouring cubicle.

She was still fumbling with her panties, a slutty little black thong. Rock could smell they were damp at the gusset.  She had them half way down her skinny thighs when she doubled up at the waist and launched a vast swathe of violent red puke into the bowl.

Rock held back her hair, at the same time edging up her skirt, so he could watch her beautiful little pink arsehole flex as she heaved her guts up.

“It's OK, let it all out.” Rock soothed, gently easing around behind her, one hand holding her hair back, the other unzipping his fly.

The girl blasted another gutful of booze and bile into the pan, and her arse contracted and winked at him.  He winked back, ensuring the make full eye contact, and stroked himself to full hardness.

“I feel ill, Danny.” The girl moaned.

“It's OK, why don't you get on your knees, it'll be easier?”

The girl messily obeyed, dropping to all fours, her head almost disappearing into the bowl as she retched again.

“That's it,” Rock said, expertly spitting on his helmet and kneeling down behind her.  He nudged his weeping jap's eye against her anus, getting ready for the next dilation.

The toilet flushed next door, and Rock suddenly remembered why he was here.  He forced his knob back into his trousers and zipped up, then went back to the door of Melvin's cubicle.

He dropped to his hands and knees and peered under the door.  Melvin was pulling up his trousers.  Rock lunged forward, ramming his head under the door and snapping his jaws shut on Melvin's ankle.

Blood spurted up the partion wall, and Melvin shrieked in pain.  Grabbing the top of the partition, he started stamping on Rock's head.

Rock snorted and clamped his jaws tighter, sinking his teeth deep into Melvin's flesh, then splintering bone.

With a few shakes, Rock tore off Melvin's foot and pulled his head back under the door, away from the fountain of blood, and ran back out into the hallway.

The taste of flesh made Rock's ears boom with mayhem and his heart swell with bloodlust, and somewhere away in the distant present he dimly heard Felicity finish My Baby Just Cares for Me to rapturous applause, and slip into No Other Love.  He skulked along the corridor, looking for somewhere to spit Melvin's foot, which he still held in his mouth, when Mickie and his troop re-entered the corridor ahead.  Rock skidded on his heels and ducked through the kitchens, and out the back door into the yard.

Melvin was down, hopefully bleeding to death on the toilet floor, and now he just had to get rid of the evidence.  Rock spat the foot out onto the concrete, still clad in a white sock and winklepicker shoe.

Where to dispose of it?  The bins were too obvious.  He glanced around frantically, then looked up at the overhanging gutter of the school roof.

The school was one of those flat roofed Sixties estate builds, and anything that went on the school roof never came down.  He should know – he kicked about a dozen footballs up there during his school years, never saw one of them again.  The old caretaker with his shocking white hair and his long grey caretaker's coat would gently shake his head and say, “I reckon you've lost that, sunshine.”

And would then make it all better with a basic magic trick, making a custard cream appear from behind Rock's ear, the perfect antidote for a young dinosaur obsessed with biscuits.

He remembered remembering those footballs a few months ago, and finding his old school on Google Maps.  Zooming in, he was tickled to see them all still there on the roof, shrunken and shrivelled, clustered together like a bunch of pygmy shrunken heads in a desert island clearing.

Rock untied the laces of the shoe, and yanked it off the foot.  He skinned off the white sock, and popped the naked foot in his mouth, crunching it up and swallowing it.  He then used the sock to wipe the shoe of any fingerprints.  Then, putting the sock on his hand like a glove, he hurled the shoe onto the roof, where he imagined it nestling among the withered footballs.

Lastly, he took his lighter and removed the sock, and set it on fire.  Job done.


Dear Reader -

This is work in progress, originally published on Smashwords.com.  I decided to post it here too, because people are downloading it, but giving no feed back.  This is a new story for me, and I really need to know whether people are enjoying this or whether they think I'm just nuts.  So please, if you have taken time to read this nonsense, please take a few extra minutes to review it or comment.  It will really mean so much & then I can finish the adventures of Rock Tadgers.

Thank you, Lee Robert Adams
© Copyright 2013 Lee Robert Adams (leerobertadams at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1930837