Static Boy

Matt locked the door behind his roommate and settled into the beanbag in front of his television. The lights in his dormitory room were off, the only light coming from the blue glow from the TV. He rarely got time to himself these days, and he valued that time highly. He got up and began to rummage under his bed for the tape he wanted. He pulled out the small shoe-box in which he kept his special tapes, the ones he didn't watch with his friends.

The guys on the hall liked porn tapes, this was true. Now and again they would invite him into one of the rooms, and they'd put in a bootleg of some poorly-made amateur film, featuring any number of interchangeable women and impossibly "fortunate" men who, in real life, would never get a woman of that caliber. They would, inevitably, have sex twenty-minute segments, in front of all sorts of inventive camera angles. Matt watched the films, and drank the beer, and enjoyed the company. But the films did very little for him, really.

He smiled as he found the tape he was looking for, and he put it into the VCR, simultaneously unzipping his jeans. He let his hand find a comfortable place under his jockey shorts, and he laid back in the beanbag chair. Nope, the guys on the hall wouldn't like his brand of porn movie. No women.

He would admit, if someone asked, that the movies he watched weren't any better produced than the other ones. No one asked, of course, because no one knew. But, as he reminded himself, these were unlike the films his friends watched in a very special way.

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The events of the film unfolded as he knew they would. He had seen this film a few times already, and truly enjoyed it. Two youngish-looking guys (all over eighteen, the film's disclaimer bragged) met on a bike path, rollerblading. They talked about the hot summer day and eyed each other surreptitiously, and decided that they should get a cool drink, and wouldn't you know it, one of the boys lived nearby!

Matt's hand curled into a loose fist as he felt himself grow hard under the cotton of his underwear. The boys on the screen started to kiss over the kitchen counter, having given in to the urges that they knew they felt. They began to strip off their clothing, one piece at a time, letting their hands roam all over each other. Matt closed his eyes and imagined, as the movie flickered on the screen, that one of the models on the television was with him. He shrugged off his pants and underwear, relishing in the new freedom.

At the edges of his senses, he realized that something was strange, but the bursts of sensation from below his waist kept him oblivious. His eyes flickered open, looking for one of the film's climactic moments, and he was startled to see static filling the screen.

He sat up and thumped the set, but it didn't change. He wiggled the cables, twisted the tracking knobs, but nothing worked. Dejected, he fell backwards into his beanbag. "Well shit," he muttered.

A burst of light from the screen blinded him for a moment. A strangled yell came from his throat, and he held a hand up to shield his eyes. The static was still on the screen, yes, but it seemed to be shifting, moving. He lowered his hand and stared at the changing patterns of black and white dots. He shook his head, not sure if he was seeing what was there. If he didn't know better, he would think that a hand was... pushing its way out through the television's screen.

He watched, entranced, as an arm followed the hand, and was in turn followed by what looked to be a person. Made of static.

The figure pulled its foot from the television and stood before Matt, looking down at him. Whatever it was, it looked like a young man, like one of the models on the screen. It was thin, and in the fluctuations of static pattern, it appeared as though he was well-muscled. From eyes as blue as the blank screen of his television as it awaited a command from the VCR, it looked down at Matt, and smiled. Matt's mouth worked open and closed for a moment, until the figure knelt down before him.

It reached out a hand and touched Matt's face. Matt tried not to flinch as a weak current of electricity flowed through his skin, making his skin break out in goosebumps. In his hand, he felt himself twitch, and grow harder.

The static boy dropped his hand and touched Matt's shirt, with a slight inclination of its head. Matt looked down, then up again, and almost frantically removed the t-shirt he was wearing. He lay there, naked and ready, under this strange apparition.

The static boy's fingers touched Matt's nipple, and Matt inhaled sharply at the sensation. It was not pain, but power that shot into him. The boy's fingers circled, then brushed Matt's nipple, then lay his palm flat on Matt's chest. Again, the rush of current and pleasure. With a strange, blurred smile, the static boy bent down and kissed him.

Matt's mind exploded. He had been kissed, yes, but no human, either male or female, had generated this kind of reaction. Behind his eyelids (when had he closed his eyes?), he saw lightning, jagged and blue, danced and writhed. His spine tingled, all the way down to his tailbone.

The static boy pulled away and smiled again. Matt's breathing (when had he stopped breathing?) returned, heavy and rapid. "Wow," was all he managed to get out. The laugh that came from the boy was the variations of white noise that came through the speakers of a television set to a blank channel. The boy put his finger on Matt's chest, and drew a slow trail downwards. Other fingers uncurled, tracing paths that, in Matt's mind, looked to be a pale blue. The tingles down his sides triggered feelings that, coming from a human's touch, would have been ticklish. These went beyond ticklish, though, causing those bolts of lightning to dance in front of his eyes again.

Matt looked up at the static boy just as its mouth closed on Matt's penis. Involuntarily, Matt's stomach muscles clenched, and he sat up swiftly, pulling out of the static boy's mouth. It looked at him and smiled again. Closely, it went down on Matt again, and Matt groaned loudly and the strange, electrical sensations swirled around him and through him. He felt a warmth and pressure begin in the bottom of his gut, and even as soon as he felt it, he erupted into the static boy's mouth.

White bursts of static erupted in the boy's head, flashes of energy that coincided with each ejaculation. The boy lifted his head, and Matt watched in amazement as the flashes moved down the boy's chest, to it stomach (if it had one). In one greater flash, it was gone.

The boy's hands began to roam over Matt's chest, and sent those tingles through him again. It bent down and kissed him, and its hands dropped to Matt's legs. They grasped his thighs and lifted them. In the back of his mind, Matt knew what was coming next. It followed the pattern of the films: a bit of foreplay, kissing, oral sex, and then....

Matt looked up quickly, his eyes wide. He burst into a smile as he whispered, "No....."

The static boy positioned himself behind Matt's legs, and a rod of white static grew from between its legs. It smiled again, and bent down to kiss Matt. As their lips touched, the static boy shifted his hips, and entered Matt slowly.

The feeling of this entry was unlike anything Matt had felt up until now. Waves of energy were flowing through him, moving along his neural pathways and shimmering through his skin. His breath came in short bursts, incomprehensible noises coming from his throat. The lightning behind his eyes flickered and flashed as the energy grew, coming in faster and faster waves. The room seemed to be filled with white light, blinding him to the room, and he ground his teeth to the growing feeling of electricity and power that was filling his body, until every sense was blinded in an explosion of sensation.

For a moment, he was entirely energy. His body had stopped being physical at all. Matt was only energy, burning away a thin shell. And then nothing.

Matt opened his eyes from the darkness. The room was dark, as it had been before. His clothes were scattered around him, and the television was only a blank screen. He touched his hand to his stomach, and felt cool wetness. He tasted his fingers. Yup.... Slowly, he sat up, feeling a dull ache in his muscles. The ache felt like the sensation of having worked out or played a sport for an hour or so: painful, but so good....

He reached over to the box of tissues under his bed and cleaned himself off. His other hand reached to the remote, and he began to rewind the tape, a smile on his face. The alarm clock on the other side of the room told him that there were still a few hours until his roommate was to return.

Matt crumpled the tissues and threw them in the garbage as the VCR finished rewinding the tape. Just enough time, he thought as his thumb hit the "play" button, for another viewing.

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