The Old In-Out
folder
1 through F › A Clockwork Orange
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,820
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
1 through F › A Clockwork Orange
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,820
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I don't own A Clockwork Orange, nor make any money from this story
The Old In-Out
AN: I had SO much fun writing this! I kind of like writing porn in the Nadsat language! There are a bunch of Nadsat dictionaries if you get lost, but with Nadsat you can basically figure it out from context.
“Oh those beautiful boyz. Tattoos of ships and tattoos of tears.” –CocoRosie
The Old In-Out
“WHAT’S IT GOING TO BE THEN, EH?”
It was half-past eight and me and my droog Dim had left Georgie and Pete at the Korovo milkbar, and all was quite boring, O my brothers. I was slightly fagged from the receding high of the vellocet and all I felt like doing was taking in a few tracks of Ludwig Van. However, Dim, being that he was very dim, had other ideas.
“I have not the same taste in the records as thou,” Dim said, and I would soon understand that this was him like, trying to polite and whatnot. Nonetheless, it sort of made me a malenky bit angry, but I faced him with like, this expression of trying to be real horrorshow and nice-like as a good leader ought.
“What’s it going to be then, eh?” I wanted to know. “What do you figure we do?” I was like, pretending to be very interested, but Dim was gloopy, stupid, and he more than likely hadn’t a clue about what he meant. It might have made me feel sad but I was much too tired.
“You don’t do naught but listen to this… Ludwig Van,” Dim mumbled and I felt the very hairs stand up on the back of my neck, o! my brothers for he had gotten his accent all wrong.
I tried to reason with the poor malchik, being that he was my droog and had been for quite some time. Though big and dumb, he had gotten me out of a few tight spots, and I needed to be patient. “Well well well. We need not listen to records then, right?”
“Righty-right,” Dim said, very agreeably, “little Alex.”
It was like at this moment that I viddy’d he had this pan-handle that was like, sticking straight out in his trousers! This is something you’d usually want to keep to yourself or like, at least try to keep it not so very noticeable, so I felt even sadder for poor Dim but he kept grinning in that tragic way.
Dim suddenly had this very strange expression I had not viddy’d before, and he stuck out his fingers to like, sort of graze my face. This sort of choodesny feeling settled in me gut, really really horrorshow, sort of like touching a dama’s groody and going all happy, except this was no dama, this was a malchik, and not just any malchik, but gloopy, stupid Dim. But all big and no brains had never looked better, oh my brothers.
It was only a few seconds later that I found meself like, bent over my bed while Dim was sodding on me from behind and putting his hands over my own pan-handle and pulling off my platties and then my neezhnies and going “Uh uh uh” in my ear all merzky-like with his hand like groping my ass. Pretty soon we was both nagoy, and it was me and Dim in the blankets doing the old in-out-in-out really loud-like. I couldn’t blame a poor, suffering gloopy veck like Dim for favoring a luscious malchik like Your Humble Narrator.
Getting sodded from behind like that was just enough to put a bit of thrill in my guttiwuts, like this was some sort of little eegra I was playing on Dim to make him make me feel horrorshow and it was working. Near the end, I couldn’t help but start creeching sort of shrill-like, and Dim was still guffing and gripping me on both sides. There was like, this pause, and Dim was smecking and pressing his lips to my gorlo, and taking me in his arms and rolling me over.
But it was then that we slooshied a shoom coming from the hally-way.
“Hello, son!”
It was the voice of my em, returned from the factory.
“Be out in a sec, em! Getting me platties on!” I announced, which was very intelligent as always.
Dim quickly put his hand over his yarbles and made this like, rude gesture at Mum through the wall. “Baddiwad luck, little Alex,” he whispered, stepping back and getting back into his platties. “Righty-right. I’ll viddy you later.”
I leant on the podooshka and acted really uninterested in what he had to say. “Right, right. Viddy you later, brother Dim.”
He exited out of my room and made some dumb greeting to the em.
O, my brothers, that had been great, great fun indeed. I sat back and finished off while taking in a bit of the Ninth.
Perhaps tomorrow, I could filly around with Pete.
THE ENDY-WEND
“Oh those beautiful boyz. Tattoos of ships and tattoos of tears.” –CocoRosie
“WHAT’S IT GOING TO BE THEN, EH?”
It was half-past eight and me and my droog Dim had left Georgie and Pete at the Korovo milkbar, and all was quite boring, O my brothers. I was slightly fagged from the receding high of the vellocet and all I felt like doing was taking in a few tracks of Ludwig Van. However, Dim, being that he was very dim, had other ideas.
“I have not the same taste in the records as thou,” Dim said, and I would soon understand that this was him like, trying to polite and whatnot. Nonetheless, it sort of made me a malenky bit angry, but I faced him with like, this expression of trying to be real horrorshow and nice-like as a good leader ought.
“What’s it going to be then, eh?” I wanted to know. “What do you figure we do?” I was like, pretending to be very interested, but Dim was gloopy, stupid, and he more than likely hadn’t a clue about what he meant. It might have made me feel sad but I was much too tired.
“You don’t do naught but listen to this… Ludwig Van,” Dim mumbled and I felt the very hairs stand up on the back of my neck, o! my brothers for he had gotten his accent all wrong.
I tried to reason with the poor malchik, being that he was my droog and had been for quite some time. Though big and dumb, he had gotten me out of a few tight spots, and I needed to be patient. “Well well well. We need not listen to records then, right?”
“Righty-right,” Dim said, very agreeably, “little Alex.”
It was like at this moment that I viddy’d he had this pan-handle that was like, sticking straight out in his trousers! This is something you’d usually want to keep to yourself or like, at least try to keep it not so very noticeable, so I felt even sadder for poor Dim but he kept grinning in that tragic way.
Dim suddenly had this very strange expression I had not viddy’d before, and he stuck out his fingers to like, sort of graze my face. This sort of choodesny feeling settled in me gut, really really horrorshow, sort of like touching a dama’s groody and going all happy, except this was no dama, this was a malchik, and not just any malchik, but gloopy, stupid Dim. But all big and no brains had never looked better, oh my brothers.
It was only a few seconds later that I found meself like, bent over my bed while Dim was sodding on me from behind and putting his hands over my own pan-handle and pulling off my platties and then my neezhnies and going “Uh uh uh” in my ear all merzky-like with his hand like groping my ass. Pretty soon we was both nagoy, and it was me and Dim in the blankets doing the old in-out-in-out really loud-like. I couldn’t blame a poor, suffering gloopy veck like Dim for favoring a luscious malchik like Your Humble Narrator.
Getting sodded from behind like that was just enough to put a bit of thrill in my guttiwuts, like this was some sort of little eegra I was playing on Dim to make him make me feel horrorshow and it was working. Near the end, I couldn’t help but start creeching sort of shrill-like, and Dim was still guffing and gripping me on both sides. There was like, this pause, and Dim was smecking and pressing his lips to my gorlo, and taking me in his arms and rolling me over.
But it was then that we slooshied a shoom coming from the hally-way.
“Hello, son!”
It was the voice of my em, returned from the factory.
“Be out in a sec, em! Getting me platties on!” I announced, which was very intelligent as always.
Dim quickly put his hand over his yarbles and made this like, rude gesture at Mum through the wall. “Baddiwad luck, little Alex,” he whispered, stepping back and getting back into his platties. “Righty-right. I’ll viddy you later.”
I leant on the podooshka and acted really uninterested in what he had to say. “Right, right. Viddy you later, brother Dim.”
He exited out of my room and made some dumb greeting to the em.
O, my brothers, that had been great, great fun indeed. I sat back and finished off while taking in a bit of the Ninth.
Perhaps tomorrow, I could filly around with Pete.