"The bastard worm ate my car!"
"He was just saying hello." Jodi frowned at the drink in her hand as she thrust it under Tyler's nose. "What do you think of this? I was thinking of calling it a 'Grab-ay Latte."
"Needs more vanilla," Tyler answered absently, taking a sip. "And what do you mean 'saying hello?' He ate my car, Jodi. Damn near got me, too."
"Personally, I think he likes you."
Tyler was dumbfounded. "Like me? Like me? Since when did near bodily harm translate into like?"
Jodi looked up, not concentrating as several splashes of vanilla fell into the latte. "You mean to tell me you never pulled the pigtails of the girls you liked when you were at school?"
Tyler glanced down at the worn boots he wore. "That's different."
"Because more often than not I didn't try to digest them afterwards."
Jodi just grinned.
Tyler pushes away the questing tongue as it brushes over his ass.
"Blanco, I'm trying to work."
But the Graboid ignores Tyler's words, pressing more firmly against the globes of flesh he longs to be buried in. Snaking around Tyler's waist the tongue makes short work of his belt and tugs his jeans down, exposing Tyler's ass to the air. Sneaking over the firm flesh, the tongue unerringly seeks out the entrance to Tyler's body and slides inside...
"Oh fuck..." Tyler groans as the tongue pushes into him, stretching him to his limits. Leaning further over the hood of the car he's meant to be working on, Tyler kicks the jeans from around his ankles, and spreads his legs wider. He can't contain the moan as the tongue lazily moves in and out of his ass, nibbling at his prostate with each push inward. "More!" he demands, "Harder! Oh god, baby!"
Heeding the pleas, El Blanco's tongue speeds up, plunging in and out of Tyler's body. Moving his hand down Tyler grips at his hard cock, fisting himself in time with the thrusts into his ass. Pleasure jolting through him with each hit against his prostate, Tyler squeezes his cock harder as he feels his orgasm pushing over him. Screaming, he comes, jetting streams of pearly white fluid over the car...
Panting, Tyler collapses over the car as the tongue slides out of him, leaving him empty and bereft. Sinking down to the ground, Tyler reaches out, his fingers softly stroking the tongue now lying on his thigh. "Yeah, I love you too," he says as the tongue lays tiny kisses across his skin.
And the sun goes down over Perfection.
Tyler stared at the reflection looking back out at him from the mirror.
"Tyler?" A soft knock followed the voice as the door behind him opened.
"Oh, thank god!" he exclaimed as Rosalita walked into the room, soft blue silk clinging to the legs you could tell belonged to a dancer.
"Tyler, you're not ready!"
He motioned towards the still untied bow tie around his neck. "I've tried it a dozen times and I still can't tie the damn thing. Help?"
Shaking her head and muttering about men under her breath, Rosalita closed the distance between them, expertly tying the bowtie in seconds. Stepping back to admire her handiwork, she looked him up and down. "Not looking too shabby, Mr Reed," she smiled.
Tyler returned the smile, holding his arm out for her to take. "Shall we?" he asked, nodding towards the door.
"We'd better," Rosalita replied, taking his arm and gently leading him towards the door. "If Burt has to stay in that suit for much longer he'll explode."
Trying to calm the Mixmaster-mutated butterflies dancing in his stomach, Tyler headed out of the room and out into the assembled group of friends waiting for him.
Tyler shuffled nervously as the priest looked at him. This was it. This was what the sleepless nights and the hours of wondering if he was doing the right thing led to. His eyes going to El Blanco he smiled at his Graboid love wuffled softly at him, love coming at him from each questing tongue. Turning back to the priest he spoke the words to change his entire life.
Tyler groaned as he shakily got back to his feet. His hand reaching out for the glass of water next to the sink, he rinsed his mouth out, trying to rid himself of the aftertaste of vomit left in his mouth. He'd been trying to shake this virus for what seemed like weeks now, but it was no good. His morning ritual had now been extended to shower, shave and spew and the tablets he'd been taking were having no effect.
"That's the last time I help Burt Gummer," he muttered, blearily looking into the mirror and running a hand over his face. Next time Perfection found itself facing an infestation of Mixmaster enhanced midges they could live with it. Not that Jodi had been complaining, not with the inflated prices she'd put on the calamine lotion and the fact that she'd been selling it to every person who came looking for the Graboid tour. However, as far as Tyler was concerned, fighting his way through of a swarm of midges to release the midge-killing compound Casey and Cletus had come up with wasn't all that fun either.
At least they could be grateful that Mixmaster hadn't turned the insects into flesh-eating midges. Although it had made them taste like chicken, as Tyler could attest to, thanks to the seven million of the little bastards he'd ended up spitting out.
It had only been a few days afterwards that Tyler had started to get ill. For someone who had never been ill a day in his life, vomiting each morning was starting get tiresome.
Tyler's train of thought derailed suddenly.
There was no way.
It was impossible.
He needed to go into Bixby. There was no way he could go to Jodi's for something like this, no way at all.
Tyler rubbed a hand over his eyes as he stared at his reflection. This could not be happening. Nervously twisting the gold band around his third finger he walked out of the bathroom, determined to find Cletus and ask how the hell this was possible. El Blanco was sterile, and he was, last time he looked, a man, and this wasn't the Twilight Zone, so how could this be happening?
And the little blue strip on the home pregnancy kit kept its silence as he left.
Tyler Reed-Blanco had never imagined his life would end up like this. He'd always thought he'd end his days in a blaze of glory. A crash and burn like the Nascar circuit had never seen before. He'd never thought he'd be married. Or a father. Never thought he'd be settled. Tyler rolled the word around his mouth. When he'd been younger saying it, hell even thinking it, had alway left an unpleasant aftertaste. He'd been unable to think of anything but the speed, and the sex; the people throwing themselves at him after each race. But now?
Propping himself up on his elbows, Tyler looked out to where his beautiful husband was chasing their son around. The ground churned as Daniel shrieked in delight, trying to stay a few steps ahead of the Graboid moving after him much slower than Tyler knew he could.
"Daddy! Daddy!" yelled Daniel as a tongue came out of the ground and wrapped itself around the young boy's ankle, gently tugging him to the ground. "Papa got me!"
"That he did!" Tyler shouted back, jumping down off the hood of the truck and jogging over to where his family were, laughing as a second tongue appeared and pulled him down, too.
And lying in the grass with his son on one side and his perfect Graboid love on the other, Tyler knew there was nowhere else he wanted to be.