Sex and Monsters Two: The Kinky Adventures of Hunkle the Bone

By Wocnis

This is part Two in the Sex and Monsters series. Packed with more than 60 illustrations, this book is a humorous look at futuristic sexuality and wacky extreme sports. Hunkle the Bone, Gorgeous Greenie Gyhimes, Swag Bagnaggle and Captain Shirley T. Best continue their, sexy, comical exploration of morals and the galaxy. They circle the drain or bring home the bacon in five more erotic, unlikely stories. Quite graphic, irreverent and outrageous, this book is absolutely NOT for kids, religious zealots, thin-skinned dim-bulbs or or conservative old farts.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Dec 21, 2014
• ISBN: 9781483547534

Book preview

tell.

Number 6 Spaced Heroes Adventure

The Bogs of Bogglemiester

Muddy Buddy Blues

Chapter 1

The Little Black Box

Bagnaggle, said V.Z., I’ve got something for you.

Van Zot rubbed his scruffy, bearded chin and grinned. He pulled a little gizmo out of his pocket and handed it to Swag Bagnaggle. It was a very small black box with a shiny silver top.

What’s this? queried Swag, turning it over and otherwise checking it out. Clearly unenthused, he slid open the silver lid to reveal one tiny, red button. Gee, what a complex mechanism. Very impressive, V.Z.

I thought you might recognize it, Van Zot remarked smugly. It’s something you’ve always wanted.

Swags eyes got big. No! A huge grin played across his face. It’s not what I think it is?

Indeed it is, Van Zot answered. I’ve finally made you one. It’s a little doohickey whereby if you press the button, you will instantly appear at the Bodacious Bikini Contest on Friday night at The Nelly Nougat Lounge.

Wow! Swag’s face was the very picture of sheer delight. You mean, no matter where I am or what I’m doing … I just press this little red button and…

…And you are totally and instantaneously time-transferred to the next Friday Night Bodacious Bikini Contest at the N. Nougat L. Van Zot assured him. Absolutely flawless …works anytime, anywhere.

Totally cool! Bagnaggle gushed.

V.Z. adjusted his glasses and looked Swag Bagnaggle in the eye. In spite of its seemingly shallow and ludicrous purpose, it’s one of the most powerful devices ever created. If used indiscriminately, it can radically distort the Quantum Algorithm of the Space-Time continuum, which is totally meaningless but would cost us a lot of money in fines. Plus it would irritate me highly.

Van Zot glared sternly at Bagnaggle and continued. I hope you have the intelligence and maturity to use it wisely.

V.Z. was wagging his finger and about to admonish him further, but Swag pushed the button.

……………………

The Nelly Nougat Lounge on Friday night is a wild and glitzy place, featuring the finest food, the best live music and as you already know, the widely acclaimed and galactically resplendent Bodacious Bikini Contest. The guest list on such a night reads like a Who’s Who of Grouwer city and, sometimes, the entire planet Earth. And just as Van Zot had said, Swag Bagnaggle landed smack-dab right in the thick of it.

He appeared in a totally unnecessary cloud of pink smoke in one of those plush, two person front row seats. In one hand he had a tankard of Black Label Hawkover’s Happy Juice, and in the other hand he had a big wad of moolah.

Bagnaggle reeled a moment from the reality transition, spilling his drink and dropping his cash.

A soft melodic voice cooed, "I’m so sorry, sir. My name is Patty. Would you care to nonchalantly check me out while I bend over in my short dress to pick up your money for you? And please let me get you another drink. Or anything … anything …else at all? From the menu, I mean." Patty blinked her big, sparkling, blue eyes.

Wowie, zowie! Bagnaggle blurted. As the cloud of smoke cleared he beheld before him, he felt, the most beautiful girl in the whole world. Behind her on stage, was a mind-boggling plethora of scantily clad women, happily gyrating in rhythmic, erotic profusion.

Swag Bagnaggle was stunned… instantly in love with Patty and smitten with delight. He grinned like an idiot.

This Little Black Box was, indeed, one of the most powerful devices ever conceived!

…………………

The Call of the Bogs

Bagnaggle’s time-transfer made a tiny, orderly ripple in the otherwise chaotic nature of the local universe. An itsy-bitsy ripple to be sure. It didn’t amount to squat.

But squat was enough to show up on a micro-distorto meter a few thousand miles away at the Bonian Monitoring Facility in Kapitol City. It was the work of a moment for a technician to notify a bureaucrat about the miniscule ripple. It was the sole job of the bureaucrat to harass Hunkle The Bone about licensing any new inventions and taxing their use. Hunkle was by far, the richest person in the known universe, so extracting money from him was one of the major functions of the world government.

Hunkle himself, in the meantime, was anxiously preparing for an exploratory hiking trip to a uninhabited realm called the Bogs of Bogglemiester. Or at least that was his intension. Hunkle the Bone had been way-laid again.

His newfangled sportwanger was exhausted from hours of pronging and grobling with Katrina Kinkamoto, his artistic, gymnastic girlfriend. Katrina could be tied-up in the most provocative, amazing positions. She loved to be boned with her ankles hand-cuffed behind her head. The little minx was very small and light which allowed Hunkle to lift her onto his shafteroonie and use her as a wally-wanking toy. He had gotten an excellent work-out last night by sliding the tightly bundled young lady up and down on his prong-whompler while they both zizzlated profusely.

Alternately, Katty would stick out her eager, tiny tush so as to be diddlelated from behind on various apparatus that showcased her remarkable flexability. Not to mention her scenic, sexual exuberance. The lithe, beautiful gymnast snoogled over the uneven bars with amazing grace and her mat work was so superbly slinky it defied erotic description.

You woulda had to be there.

How was it possible that Katty could maintain her precarious, perfect pose like a delicate alabaster fountain while spritzing little jets of tasty, genically flavored, joy juice?

It takes lots of practice, Katty had said, batting her eyes and flashing her judge-melting smile. Gymnastics has changed a lot since the old days. She added. For one thing, it taste better.

Although the Bone had no idea how such a tiny gal had room for it all, Katrina always managed to shag with blissful enthusiasm. And so for a while, the Bogs of Boglemeister were forgotten. Hunkle spent the night piping Katty to the lascivious limit and creaming the cosmic bajeeber out of the scrumptious, gymnastic hottie. Eventually exhausted, they crawled from their magnificent puddles of creamy contentment and fell asleep in Hunkle’s warm, dry bed.

In the morning Bone pulled her pink panties off his head and contemplated the minty-flavored-peachy taste in his mouth. Katrina always tasted like that. Not that he minded. The sweet, oriental pretzel was a tasty treat… but enough was enough. The Bone was ready to move on.

Katty had recovered first and was already fully dressed in a brightly colored, embroidered silk mini-skirt. It had a slit all the way to her waist and she wore red high heels. Her decorated blouse buttoned to the neck but it did little to conceal her small, but splendiferously pointed, haughty hooters. Katrina had a smug, satisfied look on her face as she stretched like a cat in the morning light. She had been splendiferously snoggled and spoogafied in no uncertain terms.

Sweet, leaping lagomorphs…you look awesome as a possum, the Bone said. Gooder than eggs. The bee’s knees.

I am humbled by your metaphors, Master. Katrina said, bowing. It amused her to play the lascivious, Geisha girl role occasionally. I am but a salacious candy bar for your wanton pleasure.

No one really talks like that, Bone scoffed.

The sunlight streaming in through the penthouse window cast a halo of golden light around Katty as she pulled her hair into a ponytail.

I talk how I please, Katrina replied. So there… Master. The spry little nymph flexed her backbone in a most remarkable fashion. Her precious assests were thrust outward, fore and aft, in an amazing display of erotic flexability.

And hardly any one really yells sweet, jumping jelly beans when they come, either. Bone continued.

I do. I learned it from Gorgeous Greenie Gyhimes. It’s all the rage. That woman is a walking orgasm. Katty bent over to adjust a shoe lace. Her baby-smooth beaver glistened and beconed like a cup of hot coffee in a Wyoming hobo camp.

The Bone, however was spent. He could only stare with google-eyed goofiness.

You really out-did yourself last night, Hunky, You are a great kisser, North and South. Katty purred. Also, I shall not be able to walk straight for a week. My sashimi twinky feels permanently open to the gods. Same for my kinky kabuki and my nifty nurkles.

Ha. It’s your own fault, my little kumquat, Bone grinned his big, goofy, Bonian grin, You’re the one that kept feeding me woody restoring spinkle everytime I tried to go to sleep. I’m lucky my face isn’t permanently flat. Dang, baby, I’ll have to have my bio-nurse give me a new wanker. You plum wore out my old prongwonkler.

Are you discontent with me? Did I swallow too much and too rapidly for your visual enjoyment? I only wished to please. And please some more. Katty smiled. She could lay it on pretty darned thick. Shall I service you anew?

No, no no. I’m so crocked, stinkoed and blotto, I’m fit to bust. Hunkle declined. He pulled a protective pillow over his groin. At this point, the last thing he needed was another hum job.

Blotto is good… I hope. Katty applied a coat of red lipstick, smooching her lips together.

You know it, Dollface. Bone assured. You’re a real humdinger! His worn-out wiener groaned and wobbled wearily.

It is most gratifying to be your dollface humdinger, Master. I am honored to stinko you. Katty said. But I must go now. I have to go wee warmly on my rare Venusean orchids or they will wilt and pine away. And I know you have plans. Although why anyone wishes to wade the Bogs of Bogglemiester is puzzling in the extreme.

Ms. Kinkamoto picked up her purse full of sex toys and bowed. Peace be with you, Bone San, until I can crock and blotto you once more. She tweetled her fingers happily at the Bone and disappeared in a flash of pink, sweet smelling smoke.

The Bone yawned. He hadn’t planned on a night of fornicational festivities and now he felt about as drained as a city park skeeter bog. He figured he really should spend about an hour in a bod-pod, but who has time for that?

He opted for a couple of restoration pills instead.

The Bone thoughtlessly washed the pills down with a few swallows of the peachy poozle juice that Katty had ceremoniously spritzed in a champagne glass for him.

Such a thoughtful and generous gal.

The stuff was at his elbow and in his usual, dent-brained, careless, way, Hunkle ignored the ramifications.

Exactly what the fluid was, he couldn’t say, but it was fun to watch the beautiful extrasexual nymph squat over the glass and masturbate. She soon had the glass filled with pulsing, bubbling enthusiasm.

If that’s what you want to call it.

One never knows about extrasexual poozle juice. Or any nookie nectar for that matter. What the heck is it? Where does it all come from? What to do with the big wet spot? It’s a mystery.

Katty had artfully decorated the generous, well-meaning gift with an origami flower and a mint leaf. Bone carelessly took another swig. Yummy! It tasted pretty darned good…sweet pineapple, passion fruit with smooth overtones of fine sake and lotus flowers. The Bone was so lucky … and crazy as a pig in a tree!

What was he thinking? Swigging out of that glass like it was a drink of water! What an idiot.

You’re a dad-gummed, rat-splattin’, bucket-headed, goofball, Bone swore at himself. What a ma-roon! What a lame-brained idjit!

Extrasexual spinkle is potent stuff.

There are some high demand, famous extrasexuals who dilute their powerful aphrodisiac elixirs to tightly regulated government standards and offer it in tiny bottles that cost a fortune. Men and women both. They sell teenie, little bottles of nookie nectar or wanker juice for big bucks. The real stuff is some of the most powerful and expensive sexual stimulants in the galaxy.

Dang that little extrasexual minx! Hunkle cursed. Now Bone figured he was going to have a distracting woody for hours. He would have pent-up ju ju up to the eyeballs! He most likely was doomed to eventually spooge uncontrollably all over the place. He shoulda known better.

The Bone seemed to always have a regular supply of the magic kazizzle thrust upon him directly from the souce. More of it than he could ever use…and he certainly didn’t need the stuff cruising around in his susceptible, Bonian brain when he had things to do. Hunkle could already feel the urge to take the day off and slap his hamster about a dozen times. It was most distracting.

He felt the pressure building in his pants.

Random spooging was okay for his kinky assistant, Nurse Gorgeous Greenie Gyhimes. She enjoyed her life of spontaneous orgasms. But Hunkle cringed at the thought of being a victim of his own wiener. Dang it! He had to get ready for his trip to Bogglemeister and he didn’t need any more uninvited, erotic distractions.

The urge continue to mount. He felt like Rootin’ Rolf the rod wrangler. But not so much in a good way.

Bone ransacked his penthouse looking for his grosselthorn antidote pills, but he only found empty containers. His supply was exhausted. Dang!

Hunkle had been forced to eat grosslethorn in an effort to maintain a small degree of dignity around his new extrasexual assistant, Gorgeous Greenie Gyhimes. If he was caught without his pills, Nurse Gee Gee’s overwhelming sexual ambiance could easily cause him to spooge in his pants. Greenie loved it, but the Bone was more circumspect about creaming his jeans. He strongly favored other venues.

Now the Bone’s supply of grosselthorn was exhausted and he lamented his lack of the proper drugs.

Bone summoned his willpower and started to pack, however his stiffy interfered with his concentration and made the job awkward. Then he realized he needed to pee. Hunkle staggered to the commode, swearing in his Bonian fashion. "Dad-gummed, rat-spattin, rock-bonkin’well-drilling, ice-breaking, good for nothing, thought-controlling appendage. Bone babbled as he struggled to point his pecker downward so he could relieve himself. It was impossible. He stepped in the shower and sprayed the walls.

Hunkle had it up to the eyeballs with sex.

No babes in heaven, no babes on the Bogs, Bone sang as he wiggled his wanner to make figure eights and spiral squirts of wee. There may be angels and there may be frogs, but good Fred willing there’s no babes on the Bogs. Hunkle crooned as he peed.

Suddenly, his eye rolled back in his head and his wally zorfed so hard it spooged clear to the ceiling. It was a heck of a pulsing fountain. His knees buckled. He bonked his noggin on the tile wall which knocked him cold as a mackerel. He slid to the shower floor spewing like Old Faithful.

When the Bone finally awakened, he was lying in a puddle of his own, new-fangled, tutti-fruitie flavored, white spunk. Gooey gobs of creamy stalactites dripped down from the ceiling where it had splattered all over him. Bone’s eyeballs were still spinning. He didn’t know whether to get up in disgust or grab his whoopee stick and ejaculate some more . It was one of those shower floor conundrums with inner-cosmic distortoplex implications. Perhaps you know the kind.

He wasn’t like Bagnaggle in that respect. Bone figured his over-sexed buddy would probably just lie there stroking and let it rain.

If it’s not weird, you’re not doing it right, his sex therapist had told him once while she masturbated and diddle him with a lolly pop. The Bone groped for his relaxatron. Maybe a few puffs would help.

Hunkle grimaced and pulled himself together. He didn’t have time for this. The bogs were calling.

Dang-blasted, sticky-wicky, fist-filling, spooge-spurting, woody-wanking, brain-sucking, mind-numbing, appendage! Bone swore. He slowly stumbled to his feet, and showered without further mishap.

Hunkle went back to safety checking all his survival gear while his stubborn stiffy oozed and twittered with excitement. It was going to be hard to get Katty Kinkamoto out of his mind. No babes on the bog, he muttered hopefully. The relaxatron was helping.

The bogs of Bogglemiester were located on a homely, mostly ignored planet near the edge of the Repulso Galaxy, and although there wasn’t much glamour in such a trek, Hunkle was drawn to its isolated wilderness. He wanted to be the first person to have the dubious distinction of exploring the planet on foot. Bone was waiting for a call from his pal, Swag Bagnaggle, whom he hoped would accompany him on such a bizarre journey.

The Bone was ready to go and pacing his ceiling in a comfortable old pair of gravity boots when the phone rang.

Hullo, Bone here.

Mr. Bone, this is your designated plaguer, Special Agent Winston. B. FullBlat from the Department of Playing God. D.O.P.G. section thirteen, Office of Inconvenience.

What?!

Mr. Bone, this office has received evidence of an unlicensed, ectoplasmic, time-space distorter in your area, Mr. FullBlat continued. That’s in direct violation of section 1, code 1, paragraph 1 of the Bonian Restraint Law. The law clearly states that if we catch you doing something weird, we will fine you a lot.

What!

Mr. Bone, because of this barely perceivable, harmless, completely irrelevant infraction, you are hereby ordered to pay 146.7 Billion bucksters in fines and paperwork fees.

Hunkle was turning red and his eyes were beginning to vibrate.

First, it’s THE Bone, not Mr. Bone. No one calls me Mr. Bone.

The bureaucrat was undeterred. We, at the D.O.P.G. will automatically extract this amount from your penalty bank account, adding sufficient penalties for expected future …

Bone, BONE, BOOOOONE! Hunkle yelled at the top of his lungs and hung up the phone. Then he pressed a button that would give the caller a powerful electric jolt.

Far away, in Kapitol City, Special Agent Winston B. FullBlat’s hair stood on end. He vibrated a few moments, like a spazmo worm on a hot plate, and fell from his chair.

……………………………………………………..

Bagnaggle is Busted

Bone took a nose hit from his relaxatron and waited a moment for his eyes to refocus. How in the name of Bijovy, did this plaguer get through on my private number? Bone checked his caller I.D. and the settings on his scummer filter. "Arggg! Some nitwit must have turned this way down. And that FullBlat idiot had a bogus I.D. that’s the same as one of my sweetie-poohs. Humph! I pay half the world to protect me from the other half and I still get plagued by bizzarities beyond my control.

Bone carefully reset the scummer filter controls and resumed pacing the ceiling.

Soon the phone rang again.

Hullo, Bagnaggle. It’s you isn’t it?

Hullo, Bone. Yeah, it’s me. Who were you expecting, Gorgeous Greenie Gyhimes?

"That would be fine. Problem is, some dingbat named FullBlat just called here. He was some designated plaguer from the D.O.P.G. … giving me grief about an unlicensed time-space something or other. Charging me billions of bucksters for it, too! I have no idea what he was babbling about.

The big thing is, I’ve got our trip to Bogglemiester all figured out. We can leave first thing in the morning! If everything’s okay with you, we can be gone a whole two weeks!"

Gee wiz. Well, phooey, said Swag. I hate to cancel at the last minute, but I, err…something important has come up and ….well, I can’t go.

What?! Bagnaggle, it’s all set up! You gotta go! What could be more important than slogging waist deep through the Bogs of Bogglemiester?

Save your breath, old pal. There’s no way I’m going to be doing any !#%! ‘slogging’ in the bogs. I’m completely firm on this. My mind is made up! Your silly trips have frozen me, cooked me, dissolved me in acid, and among other things, smashed me with a ton of stinkin’ Bronto turds. The list goes on … but I shall not. Take it to the bank. It’s written in stone: Bagnaggle will not slog the f#kn! bogs!

Bone was rolling his eyes and holding the phone away at arm’s length when he heard some giggling and other rowdy noise through the receiver. Hey, what’s that noise?

Oh, that’s my soon-to-be-new-girlfriend, Patricia Kake, Bagnaggle beamed. Patty Kake. Get it? I love her with all my heart. She the cutest and most wonderful babe in the whole world.

She sure makes a heck of a lot of noise, Bone observed.

Oh, that. I’m calling from a front row V.I.P. seat at the Nelly Nougat Lounge!

Bone was momentarily stunned. The Nougat?! Are you nuts? You oughta know better than that! I thought you were kicked out of there.

Well, err…

I thought they said never to darken their doorway again, or you would be sorry.

Well…umm…

I thought they said don’t even think about bringing your scurvy, wretched, mangy, no-good hide anywhere near their establishment, or severe umbrage would be taken.

Well, I….they said umbrage?

Yes, as I recall, that’s the exact word they used on the billboards and web-sites and T.V. commercials.

Perhaps there was a tiny bit of miscommunication between me and the gals. Always joking, you know? Bagnaggle chuckled and slurped at his drink. "Anyway, you are wrong, my friend. Technically, they said they’d never let me in again. But, guess what, Bone? They didn’t let me in. The guards and head haunchos don’t even know I’m here! I just sort of materialized … right passed ‘em. Like POOF! …in a puff of smoke!"

Whatta you mean, ‘sorta materialize’, like poof?

Well, you know how I always wished I had a button I could push that would instantly transport me out of trouble and into the Nelly Nougat Lounge? Swag laughed giddily. Well, now I’ve got one! Van Zot made it for me and it works like a charm. He was just showing it to me, and I pushed the red button … and voila! Here I am!

You mean you actually used it? …Just a little while ago? Bagnaggle, you lame brain. You just cost me 146 billion bucksters! Bone took another hit off his relaxatron and waited for his eyes to clear. That thing was top secret. We didn’t even have it declared yet. Didn’t Van Zot tell you to use it only in an emergency?

Err …not word for word…

And didn’t you consider what would happen if they catch you inside the Nougat again?

Err …not exactly.

And haven’t you even thought, even a teensie weensie, feeble minded bit, about how you’re gonna get out of there?

Ummm, err …not …"

At that moment there was a bunch of racket, like drinks being spilled, women screaming, and tables being over turned.

The last thing Hunkle heard over the phone sounded pretty much like the noise Swag Bagnaggle’s head would make if it was being dragged across the floor and up the stairs to the security offices of the Nelly Nougat Lounge.

This was not a good thing for Swag Bagnaggle. The Nelly Nougat Police force was known to be pretty rough on their prisoners. Bagnaggle, due to his long and colorful history with several of the girls in the establishment, was definitely going to get the treatment.

Bagnaggle was stripped and bound after which he was subjected to numerous indignities suggested by vengeful, imaginative, ex-girlfriends. A long line of Nellies waited outside his prison cell for a chance to subject him to all sorts of creative, denigrating abuses.

This treatment would not be as simple as the typical S and M slave routine that might work with some people. Swag was the kind of guy that would secretly enjoy being spanked and made to lick ju ju off of boots. Bagnaggle dreamed of distort-plexic, kinkafied sexual scenarios beyond the realm of normal mortal endeavors. Heck, slurping up body fluids was his middle name. Sort of.

Whatever weird, warped wienie abuse they were planning for him would not be pleasant to contemplate.

Bagnaggle cringed in terror as he waited in his cell. If only he could get a message out to the Bone and rinse his mouth. There was no chance of either of those things. He moaned.

A small army of investigators, attorneys, and even the Bone himself, spent the next couple of hours trying to find Bagnaggle and negotiate his release, but it was to no avail. It seemed as if Swag Bagnaggle had dropped off the face of the Earth.

Officials at the Nelly Nougat firmly denied charges of kidnapping, pointing out that Swag was not allowed on the premises, and furthermore he could not have possibly gotten into the heavily guarded, high-security club. They presented conclusive optical, thermal and other digital evidence that Bagnaggle had not passed through the doors of the club that night. It would be impossible to get a search warrant or even bring charges against the Nellies.

Complicating the matter was the top secret Little Black Box, the existence and purpose of which could not be revealed. Now, even the location of the L. B. B. was unknown.

Bone and his top advisors called a quick meeting.

Well, this stinks, remarked the Bone dryly. The L.B.B. is the hands of those meddling, sneaky weenie hating Nellies. And on top of that, they’ve snatched my best friend. And he’s one of the weenies they dislike most. He paced the floor, right side up, in front of Blake and V.Z. "What with that Dingbat FullBlat and the D.O.P.G. on my case, it looks like the best thing for me to do is split and stay gone until you guys can get this