Barking

Barking

       By That Guy There

“Milk makes up an essential part of a healthy individual’s daily food intake.”

Dr. Wesley Penner, President, International Health Organization

“The last thing you want to feed your children is milk. Milk is for calves, not humans!”

Dr. Jane Upgaarst, Vice President, Coalition for Healthy American Children and Animals

Vanderbelt was called in to be milked, as he put it later to his colleagues at the Toff and Stuffy, by a matronly nurse who smiled to reassure him as she turned to have him follow her down the short corridor. He sat in the chair and read about the importance of hair follicles to the health of the entire being. Dr. Groinly (unfortunate name for a fellow in that business, he also mentioned to the same men at the lounge) arrived very late and seemed in a hurry and impatient. But that did not matter. This was not surgery. He attached the modified milking machine to Condolisa’s penis, started it up, and left the room. While the machine sucked quietly at him, pulling and releasing, tugging and letting go, Condo tried to move about enough to see all sides of the contraption. No shut off anywhere that he could tell, though it was, he saw suddenly with relief, plugged in at the wall. He would have to straddle the machine to get to it but at least it was there. A minute later the doctor entered and looked at him suspiciously.

       “What are you doing out of your chair?” he barked, peering around the door as if he expected accomplices. “You should be sitting down for this important procedure. A healthy sperm count depends on quiet co-operation and sitting. If you move about during sex, you are much less likely to conceive. Did you know that?” His white sleeve was a little red at places, pink, as if he had not successfully washed the blood from it after his last crisis.

       “Yes,” Vanderbelt nodded. “I should be still.” The doctor tried on two pairs of rubber gloves before he seemed satisfied and left again. He said he would be back in ten minutes. Again, Van realized, he had forgotten to address the problem of the shut off.

       “I’ll just relax,” he said out loud. He leaned back in the chair and waited. It was not working well. His erection had not yet occurred and five minutes had elapsed.

       Maybe I should think about Molly,” he said to himself, again audibly. Molly was a student in one of his seminars who sat in the front row and wore thin sundresses that showed her lace and underwear. He did that, and soon it worked. Not long afterwards, when he was finished, he thought about his dilemma. The doctor had not arrived. The clock above told him that fifteen minutes had gone by. He stood up with the damn machine still whirring and sucking away.

       “Jeez,” he said aloud. He waited. No one. Not a nurse, even.

       “Hey!” he shouted. “Is anyone out there? Could I have some help here?

       He yelled a few epithets and then began walking around the machine as far as the hose would let him, which was not that far.

       “Damn,” he said, thinking about the fact that each edge was smooth without buttons or anything else protruding to push or pull. Maybe underneath. He knelt down and felt at floor level. He got up and looked at the cord on the far side. He waited. He called for the doctor again. He leaned forward and laid his stomach on the chrome and stainless and reached for the cord. He slipped forward and hit his head on the floor, the hose stretching his penis. Now he reached the cord and was about to pull when the doctor stopped him.

       “Don’t!” he yelled. “What are you doing up?”

       “I’m finished, you moron!” Van roared at him. Stop this damn thing or I’ll kill you!”The doctor touched the switch on the side and the machine stopped. The hose fell limp and Van pulled up his pants immediately. He walked to the front desk, signed the necessary forms, and huffed towards home.