Spread 'Em 

 

by Mary Kroll and Allison  
Much to our chagrin, we do not own these charecters. More's the pity. 

 

“…starring John Thomas as Officer Tightass and introducing Johnny Comelately as Cadillac 
Jimmy in …” 
Lacroix surveyed the set critically. How had he and Nicholas arrived at this juncture? Billions of 
dollars in the bank and yet they were hard up for cash. Damn Aristotle and his god-like power of 
attorney. Lacroix had nothing against adult films, in principle, but surely there were other ways for 
a worldly and well-hung man to make tax-free cash. Of course, none of those ways involved he 
and Nick fucking and both being paid for it. The commotion among the small crew started to die 
down as everyone began to complete his or her tasks and scurry away. Tripod lights, disturbingly 
similar to the sun, brightened the rear section of the parking lot that was supposed to represent 
the side of the highway. A green-gold 1975 Cadillac El Dorado convertible sat waiting with the 
driver’s door open. Nick leaned up against the rear door, looking positively awful in that pink t-
shirt and so enticing in those black cotton shorts and cheap white sneakers. The make-up girl 
dusted him with foundation powder – again - and the Fluff Girl knelt in front of him, focused on the 
task at hand. There was nothing quite as appealing about Lacroix’s highway patrol officer’s 
uniform, thought there was something to be said for the tall black boots, nightstick, mirror-black 
sunglasses, and the uniform pants really made his ass look great. But why did he have to wear a 
hairpiece if he was also wearing a helmet? And why did that hairpiece have to be an Afro? 
The director, with clipboard in hand to feign credibility, cleared his throat loudly. “Okay, people, 
bring it in. Alright, now, Cadillac Jimmy just dropped Brianna Hills and Autumn Summers off at the 
convent, he’s driving home, he’s horny, he starts spankin’ it, he’s swirvin’ all over the road, and 
boom, Officer Tightass – that’s you, John, excuse me, Mr. Thomas – pulls him over. Comelately, 
in the car.” He snapped his fingers to get the Fluff Girl’s attention, “Hey, girlie, Johnny’s ready 
already.” The Fluff Girl hurried off-camera. A grip turned on the blue beacon lights on the vintage 
police motorcycle parked behind the car. “Okay, Mr. Thomas, Johnny, are we ready?” 
Nick raised a hand timidly, “Um, can I confer with my costar for a quick sec?” 
“Fine, whatever,” the director’s attention span would surely lapse they didn’t get started soon. 
Lacroix strode to Nick, “What’s wrong?” 
“I can't do it, Lacroix." 
"What do you mean, ‘can't’?" 
"I can't keep it up in front of all these people," Nick whispered. 
“You’d better,” Lacroix breathed into his ear and nipped at Nick’s cheek mischievously, “because 
I’m not doing this a second time.” 
“Are you two ready already?” the director bellowed. “Yes? Good, then clear the set!” The crew 
scattered, Lacroix stepped off-camera, and Nick seated himself nervously in the El Dorado. 
“Sound! Camera! And Action!” 
Lacroix stepped with “command presence” up to the open driver’s window and cleared his throat 
to affix the atrocious American accent the director had insisted upon. “Operator’s license and 
proof of insurance.” 
“Is there a problem, officer?” 
“Operator’s license and proof of insurance, sir.” Nick handed him two small pieces of paper. 
Lacroix pretended to scrutinize them. 
“Do you know why I pulled you over, sir? You were driving erratically back there.” 
“Um, I’m sorry, officer, I had, um, things on my mind.” 
“Is that so? It looks to me like you’ve got your affairs well ‘in hand’. You realize this sort of thing 
constitutes Reckless Driving and can incur severe punishment.” Lacroix moved his black-gloved 
hand to stroke the nightstick on his hip.” 
Nick swallowed hard. “Can’t you get – er, let me off? Is there maybe something I have that you 
want?” 
“Are you trying to bribe me? That’s it, out of the car, now!” Lacroix threw open the door and pulled 
Nick out by a handful of t-shirt front. “Turn around! Hands on the car! Spread ‘em!” 
Nick complied clumsily. “Officer, this really isn’t necessary.” 
“Eyes front. I’m gonna check you for weapons now.” Lacroix ran his hands along Nick’s arms, 
across his back, down his sides, and grabbed double handfuls of Nick’s firm derriere. He 
continued down Nick’s muscular legs and, on the return trip, slid his hands under the loose 
shorts. Nick moaned softly as Lacroix squeezed his hard organ. “Looks like you’re packing heat 
there.” Lacroix began stroking and rhythmically squeezing. 
“Oh, yeah,” Nick said breathily, “I’ve been a really bad boy.” 
“Yeah? Well, maybe I need to be more thorough with you and do a …” Lacroix grabbed Nick’s 
hips and pulled Nick’s fine ass against his own erection, “cavity search.” 
“Oh, god, yes!” 
Lacroix suddenly grabbed Nick by the shoulders and spun him around, slamming him against the 
car and crushing their bodies together. Their mouths mashed and melted in a deep, tongue-
centric kiss. “Get on the bike,” Lacroix rasped as they came up for air. 
“Yes, sir, officer.” Nick walked over to the classic white highway patrol Harley and, swinging a 
handsome horseman’s leg over, straddled the gas tank. Lacroix followed him, straddling the seat 
proper. 
“Time to strip the suspect,” he announced as he pulled the leg holes of Nick’s shorts high up on 
his ass cheeks. Lacroix slid his nightstick under the bridge of material and pulled up sharply, 
almost faster than the cameras could see, tearing the shorts in half laterally. Nick grabbed the 
handlebars of the bike, from shock and sweet anticipation. Lacroix, moving with practiced 
efficiency, quickly handcuffed Nick’s right wrist to the handlebar. “Can’t have you escaping 
custody.” Unzipping his pants and pulling his “personal piece” into view, Lacroix leaned against 
Nick’s back, “Now, let’s go for a ride.” Lacroix turned the key and revved the bike so that it 
vibrated under them. "Lift your ass," commanded Lacroix. When Nick failed to comply, Lacroix 
reached into his pocket and withdrew his ticket book. He flailed Nick's buttocks with three-ringed 
expertise. The sharp metal stinging his flesh had Nick's ass dancing in the air. Lacroix wound up 
and let loose the final spank. Nick gasped and a red rectangle glowed on his rear. Reaching back 
into the saddlebag, Lacroix brought out a tube of Astor-lube and spread is lavishly on his turgid 
member. This didn’t need to be done with any refinement, since it would probably end up on the 
cutting room floor anyway. “Are you ready for the ‘Long Arm of the Law’?” He held himself poised 
and ready. 
“Yes! Please! Fuck me!” Nick didn’t have to act much; his body was following the script just fine 
and, of course, he wanted Lacroix. With one smooth, medium-paced motion, Lacroix entered 
Nick. Nick groaned lustily as Lacroix began thrusting. They lost themselves in the sensation, 
oblivious of the dozen or so people watching. Lacroix’s feet were planted firmly on the asphalt; 
Nick was on his toes. The innate hum of the engine made Nick like he was being fucked by a 600 
cubic centimeter vibrator. Even as their passions enflamed even further and Lacroix’s thrusts 
became more savage and wonderful, the two remembered to keep their eyes closed or faces 
turned from the camera. While their faces were largely inconsequential in this stage of a gay 
porno movie, better that the cast and director not see their enlarged canines and glowing yellow 
eyes. 
They were really rockin’ now. The motorcycle even began to join them in their moaning and 
groaning. The kickstand trembled with every thrust yet held firm. Lacroix rose up on the balls of 
his feet and, holding Nick up higher by his hipbones, began pounding into him urgently, a growl 
emanating unheeded from deep in his chest. The moment was at hand. Lacroix leaned towards 
Nick’s gorgeous throat and Nick did what he could while handcuffed to move back towards his 
master. Unfortunately, this meant pulling back on his right hand, which turned the handlebars and 
front wheel, which was all that was needed to finally send one idling motorbike and two highly 
aroused vampires to their sides on the pavement. 
“Jesus Christ, cut!” came the voice of the director from the distant realm of reality as Lacroix tried 
desperately to close the gap between himself and the mind-blowing orgasm that had just been 
thwarted. No use. Suddenly, he pulled himself from Nick and sent the 350-pound bike sailing 
through the air. In full red-eyed vampire mode and with an unrequited erection sticking out from 
his pants, Lacroix flew at the director. In an eye-blink, he had the semi-professional smut peddler 
hoisted into the air and tore into his throat. That was when all hell broke loose. The cast and crew 
scattered like chickens dropped in a fox convention. Nick leapt from the ground, equally 
frustrated, and joined Lacroix in dispatching those unfortunate witnesses. Lacroix could hardly 
believe how his erection strained when he finished his last victim. Incomplete intercourse topped 
with the testosterone of the hunt and the glut of the kill were almost too much. Nick felt the same 
and met him halfway through the field of strewn and oozing pornographers. The time for 
tenderness or romance had long since passed. Their fangs were already in each other’s throats 
when each man’s frantic right hand found his partner’s aching cock. Lacroix came first, roaring 
into the wound he had made in Nick’s flesh. That sweet sound was all that it took to send Nick 
spiraling in to the blissful oblivion of his own orgasm. His knees gave out and he took Lacroix 
down with him to the red-puddled pavement. Spent and panting, they lay there for a long 
moment. 
“Hey, Lacroix?” Nick began sheepishly once he’d caught his breath. “Do you think we’re still going 
to be paid?” 
The End (we now return you to your life, already in progress)