“Oh, my.” The professor’s words came out in a surprised gasp as Doctor Zoidberg’s mouth tentacles rippled down his back. “I haven’t been touched like that in centuries.”
Zoidberg let out a gentle gurgle and a soft moan. “No one’s let me touch them like this in…” He paused, lifting his head, and his tentacles lost contact with the professor’s wrinkled flesh. “Wait, how old am I again?”
Farnsworth let out a playful harrumph. “I don’t recall telling you to stop, Zoidberg.” He tried to turn his head to glare at the lobster through his three-inch-thick spectacles, but fractured part of his collar bone on the way and was forced to stop.
Zoidberg heard the familiar crunch of the professor’s brittle bones. A roguish grin spread across his face. “It looks like it’s time for me to play doctor.” He reached out with his claws to check the injury, but the professor waved him away.
“Don’t bother with that. I’ll just get a new one at my regular maintenance appointment next week.” He mumbled incoherently to himself for a moment, feeling around the bedside table for one of his many bottles of pills. Locating the correct one at last, he fumbled with the cap, which refused to yield to all his strength.
“Allow me,” murmured the doctor, gently removing the bottle from Hubert’s shaking hands and slicing the entire top of the bottle off with a clean snip of his claw. They linked arms and swallowed their little blue miracle pills at the same time.
“You know, they say shellfish are particularly susceptible to the secondary effects of this particular…” Hubert drifted off, lost in thought. It may have been the pill kicking in — or it may have been his incredibly advanced age.
Whatever the reason, his clouded thoughts were soon interrupted by the sound of John Zoidberg’s uncontrollable whooping, and the sensation of his armored body hopping sideways around the bed. The doctor’s eyes were bulging and bloodshot, and his breaths were frantic and heaving. “I must have you!” he bellowed in a voice dripping with lust. “I can’t wait any longer!”
He rushed into the professor’s thin arms, panting heavily, blinded to the fragility of professor Farnsworth by a whirlwind of passion and knocking his quadro-focal glasses to the ground. The sound of them shattering shocked Hubert into full awareness as he squinted half-blindly at the red blur that was Doctor Zoidberg.
“Oh, my,” he muttered once more, unable to find the words to express his sudden arousal. He reached toward the doctor, then shrank back in pain as the lobster man’s claws accidentally snipped off two of his fingers. His heart beat and a few drops of blood escaped from the wound.
Zoidberg gaped at the sight, rendered instantly sober by the startling reality of his error. “I’d better go get the bandages,” he mumbled nervously. “Your heart’s going to beat again any minute now.”
He moved towards the door, pausing to scoop up his pants on the way out. As he pulled them on, he hesitated, but finally asked the burning question: “Do I still get that bucket of rotten fish heads?”
That's 530 words. Add me to the drawing for AI War: Collection 2014.
I'm, uh... I'm gonna go take a shower.