It's Not Green

Its Not Green


Brady could always hear the dripping. Reddish green mucus like with loud “plops” on the concrete floor. It was a constant companion in the dark, the smell of rot mixing with pot smoke and that spicy cinnamon perfume they always mixed in. As his time in the hole passed from hours to days to months it became a comfort. Something in the back ground to lull you to sleep if you never stopped to think about it. He took another hit off the joint in his hand and closed his eyes. The thick perfume coated his throat. He listened for the scuttling.
He was finishing the joint, his last one, when he heard them coming to him. Vision blurred when they crawled through the opening in the roof of his hole. It always did. Like they were crawling through a mirage painted on the ceiling.
They were always midgets, usually dark haired. No more than three feet tall, thick limbed and clicking and green if you looked hard. He tried not to look that hard. They were damn near identical, like two girls split in half. It was always that way.
One of tossed a rolled up newspaper at his feet. He unrolled it and found two dozen joints, pushed it to side and lit one. Resting his back on the wall he watched them watching him. They waited until he was half way done with his joint before they started crawling forward. The spice taste was thick in his throat and he just knew they were really women. Double jointed, that was all.
One of them grabbed his cock; the other took it in her mouth. He hit the joint again, hard. It was not cold. It was a woman’s mouth. The spice filled his nostrils. She clicked as her head bobbed in his lap. It was a nervous tick, he knew it was. One stroked as the other sucked, working in perfect harmony. Her hands were not sharp. She was not cutting him. It was all in his head.
One of them scuttled to the proper position and the other jerked him to his knees. She placed his cock inside her sister. He was hard, nothing he could do about it. He knew it was not green. He knew it was not scaly. It was soft and warm and flesh. It had to be. She was rocking back and forth until he started thrusting on his own. He needed to finish before the noise started.
The buzzing was starting; he could hear it coming from her. The scream erupted as he came. Her mouth was opening too wide. It was high pitched and alien. His nose was bleeding again. Then they were finished. And they were green, easy to see. He closed his eyes and fell back against his wall. He heard them climbing back up the wall and leaving. A series of clicks moving away from his hole, and another set coming closer, he recognized those.
One of his daughters’s stuck her head through the opening. Human eyes, a hairless head the color of flesh and coated with the red green slime. Brownish green mandibles where her mouth should have been. They opened and closed as she watched him. When her voice came it was a buzzing sound forming human words.
“You’re doing fine father. The latest batch looks almost exactly like you. Soon, you won’t be able to tell the difference.”
She disappeared back into the hole and he listened to her crawl away. He lit another joint.
The End