©1995 Pan Productions
The Professor looked around at the city, which sparkled and flashed around him
like an eerie, psychedelic carnival. Chloe's scent had faded; perhaps she'd
flagged down a cab. No matter. The intoxicating scents of the night were
rushing in bus fumes,
grease from restaurant exhaust fans, and the smell of
sweat, thick with
pheromoneswomynsmell. Professor Pan inhaled deeply. They were close, a group
of them. Dancing. Perfect.
The Professor looked down at his
swollen organ, which had ripped through his
Levis and stood in front of him like the prow of a viking boat. He laughed
maniacally. I
don't know what's happening to me, he thought, but I like it! He
sniffed the air again, and noticed a deep, drum-like sound pounding in the
distancethumpthumpthumpthumpthump. The
womynsmell and the drumming were
coming from the same place. He bounded down the street, nose and penis leading
him onward, cackling and snorting.
A woman pushing a shopping cart full of rags saw him coming and
screamed. The Professor leered at her as she huddled in a dark doorway, then
sprinted past, his hooves
clip-clopping sharply on the sidewalk. The scent and the noise were getting
progressively louder, and seemed to be emanating from a warehouse near the
harbor waterfront.
The Professor stood before the door. Above the door was a sign which read
Professor Pan pulled at the door, which came off
in his hand as if it were balsa wood, and the scent and sound hit him in the face
full-force,
almost knocking him off his hooves. He entered.
He opened
his eyes. And then he froze.
A wave of panicked dancers had parted in front of him. At the end of
the club, on the top of a paint-splattered cubical stage, she
was spinning, caught in a locus of colored light-beams, her hair sparkling like
faery thread in the strobe, a black leather mini skirt and platform sneakers,
spinning, naked breasts bobbing rhythmically, oblivious to the beast stumbling
toward her, lost in her own blissed-out dance
He laughed lustfully and leaped onto the stage. She stopped dancing,
momentarily confused at his sudden appearance. The Professor's tongue flickered
in
and out of his mouth and his
eyes burned demonically beneath furry brows.
She screamed, looked down at the monstrous writhing snakething.
OH MY GOD!
Someone on the dancefloor began cheering. Others joined in. Professor Pan
turned, his erection hanging over the crowd like a boom
microphone. The woman in his arms seemed frozen in terror, her eyes wide and
uncomprehending. He laughed, and the crowd roared. The thick, overwhelming smell
of lust had made him giddy.
The music stopped abruptly. The swirling lights went dark, and
only a
single revolving spotlight shone on the Professor and the terrified dancer.
"I'm baaaaaaacckkkk!" he cried.
A few punks surged toward the small stage. The crowd was beginning to
dance again, and the DJ sent a heavy drum beat echoing through the darkness. A
woman's shirt flew onstage. The crowd roared. A pair of men's briefs followed.
Soon clothes were flying through the air; leather jackets, fishnet stockings,
metallic shorts, bras and chains.
The Professor lifted the half-naked woman he was clutching and put her down in
the undulating mob. She stood, wide-eyed and unmoving, like a solitary reed in
a turbulent river.
Around her, people were copulating, grabbing anyone nearby, dancing
ecstatically. Some fell, intertwined, to the filthy floor and began making
love. Drinks flew; a bottle of cheap wine smashed against the stage and
splattered the Professor with the blood-red contents. He laughed and licked his lips. The dancefloor was a mass of flesh, grinding, screaming, howling with pleasure and pain.
Professor Pan danced a crude dance
on the stage. A group of
tattooed, nude women were gathering around his
perch, grasping at his hooves, his furry goatlegs, and that monstrous
appendage, which seemed to be growing larger and larger. The crowd pulsed like
a single, fleshy organism, and the beat got faster and faster.
Then the screams from the front of the warehouse shattered the orgiastic trance.
Blue lights flashed through the doorway, and dark shadowy figures streamed
in from the outside. "Police!" someone shouted, and the
panicked, naked dancers
began to flee.
The Professor vaulted from the stage and ran to the door, enraged, knocking
the frightened, naked patrons out of his way. "How dare you!" he roared. "How
dare you interrupt my dance! How dare"
He was interrupted by two gunshots. The Professor stumbled backward and fell.
The flashing lights before his eyes began to fade, and he felt his hot blood spurting from his
chest. |
Take this and drink
Outside
Bacchus
Open Eyes Flashing Past
Memo
Next Phase
Born Again
