Hope you like hairspray.
Lester’s Halloween Hairspray
By Dani Brown, Queen of Filth
The new extension cord arrived, purchased from a private seller on Amazon. Lester could enjoy juice down the far end of the garden, past the birdbath and ornamental well. He took pleasure in the simple things in life.
His brother had a real working well, the waters thick with jiz. Lester found himself happy with the little ornamental well. He breathed in the scents of late summer to wash away the image of his brother jerking off into his water supply.
Nothing from Lester’s balls went to waste. One day, Chester would wake up and find himself blowing dust, despite never allowing spunk to fall down a drain. Chester wasted his cum in every way imaginable when he should focus on the world-famous Chester’s Cloudy Ice. If he wanted to expand his brand, that wouldn’t be a waste. But filling a water feature that no one received any joy from would be a frown from God.
All of Lester’s garden decorations were bought and paid for by his Electric Beard Cream profits. Lester hadn’t forgotten the hardships of benefit sanctions from only eighteen months ago. The memories still stung deep when he woke crying cum in the middle of the night. He didn’t like to waste his spunk. It kept him and his wife in relative luxury so he invented a special night mask, guided by a hand from the great beyond in the middle of a thunderstorm to collect his extra-salty tears for Lester’s Extra Special Beard Cream.
On the day he bought the extension cord, he purchased a new, light-weight cattle prod. It was expensive, but he wrote it off as something for the business. He wasn’t going to be messing around with dragging his milking chair outside.
He turned to face the house. It didn’t even have a mortgage. If he didn’t get in that car accident, he would still be in that dreadful little flat wondering what he would do to piss off the Job Centre next and begging for food outside Poundland.
Everything inside the house, everything outside, bought and paid for with the juice of his balls. Lester didn’t need credit. His business may not bring in as much money as his brother’s, but he didn’t waste what he earned. Even when the hipster bubble pops, him and Eloise will be set for life.
There wouldn’t be a summer holiday this year, or even next. Not with the little one so young and constantly attached to Eloise’s breasts. When the time was right, he’d take his family on the holiday of a life time with the sales of his new product.
It would be a limited edition run. He planned to create a demand for supply. He couldn’t produce it all year though. A run of a lot of work was fine, but he needed to rest too. Everyone needed rest. All except Chester. Lester’s little brother had to constantly milk himself, unless he wanted to wear an adult diaper to absorb the spunk.
Lester needed absolute peace to produce the best man-juice. He focused on the image of an 80s temptress wearing nothing apart from leg warmers to chase the image of Chester from his mind.
The quality of the hairspray needed to be consistent so the lid wouldn’t clog. It wasn’t like the beard cream. Different labels went on different qualities. Beard cream was sold in a jar, jars couldn’t clog.
The trees were too young to shelter him from the neighbours viewing from an upstairs window but he didn’t care. He gave their house a salute. With Chester dropping in on him whenever he wanted, it wasn’t like they hadn’t already seen Cummington cock.
Lester hung a tablet computer from a branch. Signal was great. He could stream all the 80s love songs he wanted. They really got him going and improved the quality of his cum.
He could stream rom-coms too. He preferred to save those for sexy time. He showered Eloise with spunk. Chester laughed at him for having a wife, but nothing was more important than true love.
When it ran out of his eyes, she’d lick his tears. Nothing went to waste in the older Cummington brother’s house. Unless Eloise asked to rub the spunk into her breasts. It soothed her cracked nipples.
The design for hairspray came to him one night while feeding Buddette. Since that episode he spent in the hospital, all the snake’s food had to be warmed in his anus before she’d touch it. He couldn’t let his baby starve.
He wouldn’t allow her to fetch it fresh out of his arse. She pined for the time Chester put her on film overindulging on hamsters she pulled out of porn star arseholes.
Lester took her to a specialist pet therapist who let him pay for treatment in jars of beard cream. He used it as an ointment on his white hair with streaks the colour of piss. Letting his mind drift while warming the hamster gave Lester the idea.
The beard cream market was stable, if the hipster bubble didn’t burst. It wasn’t even a case of if, but when. Every hour, another man with a beard had a visit from the hipster fairy and declared beard cream a necessity. Soon, they’ll decide to shave them off and have their tattoos removed with laser surgery, leaving only a few hipsters to carry on the tradition.
Hairspray wasn’t as popular outside of the music videos for Lester’s favourite songs. A holiday special product would bring in enough money to hire someone to warm Buddette’s hamsters.
He made double his beard cream quota since he had the custom-made chair. Lester and Eloise’s saving accounts were filled to bursting, much like his balls. His new chair released electricity into his anus based on knobs on the armrest and massaged his balls to ensure every last drop of spunk was released.
Lester had total control when in his new chair. The hairspray didn’t require total control, just a simple change of scenery to make it work. And a little wrist action.
He let the love songs of the late 80s and early 90s into his system until his body hair stood up with tingles. Those were the songs that danced in his veins and forced his heart to beat. All the stress of an adulthood spent on benefits left him as the songs played.
He hung his trousers over a tree and taped semen collectors to his eyes, just in case. Whenever Lester’s eyes watered, they still lost spunk. No amount of surgery could fix that entirely. Eloise found it sexy.
Lester accepted no product would ever be as successful as Chester’s Cloudy Ice. Even when the hipsters shave off their beards and stop searching for the most obscure music they can find, they’ll still buy Chester’s Cloudy Ice. It was apparently more addictive than sugar and nicotine combine. But, without the lethal consequences. If one considered sucking salt out of Chester’s cum non-lethal. Lester wasn’t so sure. He thought it might shorten lives.
Lester accepted his younger brother produced more cum than him and didn’t have a wife needing weekly satisfaction. Lester didn’t mind. Him and Eloise had it good. Lester was happy, while Chester still chased that happiness into his porno collection.
An autumnal chill circled his ankles. Still plenty of time to get the hairspray onto shelves before Halloween. August would soon give way to September and September to October.
He attached the portable spunk hose to his cock and cracked the volume on the tablet. The collection device was nothing more than the bags Eloise used to freeze her breast milk.
If the product took off and there was demand for it next year, he’d install speakers into a hollow fibreglass tree. He could even use the tree to store the new cattle prod. It would be used just for hairspray. If Lester planned to expand his range, he would need special cattle prods for each product.
He plugged the cattle prod into the extension cord and shoved it up his anus, lubricant-free. He didn’t like to mess around with lubes. They might attract wasps. A sting in the wrong place would disable him for one week or more.
Lester didn’t need to stretch his mind to recall the pain of his balls drooping beneath his knees. If Eloise required a rest or nipple ointment from the chemist and he was left with the little one for even an extra hour, his balls would start to fall. He needed to milk himself regularly. He could only do that with electricity pulsing through his arsehole. A wasp sting would swell it shut.
He was surprised Chester didn’t complain of the same problem, but then again, Chester’s balls milked themselves, even while he was sleeping. He would text Lester at least once per week with pictures of his sheets. Thinking of his little brother would only result in the jiz leaking from his eyes. The quality was okay enough for low-grade beard cream. It wouldn’t be good enough for Lester’s Halloween Hairspray.
He didn’t even think of Eloise while milking himself. He thought of the 80s temptresses with their big hair and even bigger shoulder pads. Lester was too polite to picture them naked or in lacy lingerie. That was reserved for chasing images of his little brother out of his head. He felt guilty for thinking of their nipples and bush, but no one ever had to find out.
Lip-singing into a microphone and dancing around a set was enough to get him hard. He wanted to get his fingers caught in their teased hair. A little zap with the cattle prod and he filled a portable semen collector (he didn’t like to think of them as the baggies his wife used to freeze breast milk).
He sealed it and put it to one side. There was more juice in his balls yet. He repeated it, thinking of a different 80s temptress. He loved them all, as they were, back then. Their breasts as perky as their hair.
Lester kept his eyes open, but he wasn’t really in his back garden, wondering if the neighbours watched him. He was on a set for a music video, back when music videos ruled the world. She came out in a skimpy outfit and leg warmers and rolled around on the floor. Her eyes caught Lester’s. She winked.
He pressed the button on the cattle prod for more juice. His balls quivered. The portable collector filled. He had to return to the garden before it overflowed and he ended up with semen dripping down his legs. That wouldn’t make for very good hairspray.
He sealed the collector. His balls screamed for more relief. He gave them what they needed until he blew dust.
There was enough spunk for one batch of hairspray. He took it into the house with his tablet computer and electric cattle prod. He wound the extension cord up as he walked the length of the garden and in through the patio doors.
He forgot his trousers. He wasn’t going to run back out there with the semen still warm. Lester ran to his basement instead. Down there, he had a lab for developing new products. Unlike his brother, he liked to have his spunk in many pies. Eloise never went down there, not even to dust.
The lights were motion sensor. He afforded himself a lot of luxury, but had those installed as a necessity. He knew one day, they would be needed. The day was sooner than he thought with his hands full.
With the stress and excitement of moving and a baby, he didn’t believe he’d be able to think of any new products for at least another twelve months. Life worked out in a funny sort of way. Two years ago, he couldn’t get an erection without agony.
The lab sparkled at him. The only dirt he could see came from the pencil shavings of the rough sketch he drew of the product.
The one bottle of hairspray he made and tested sat gleaming on a shelf. A simple, handwritten label stared at him. Hairspray, July 2017. The only prototype made in his new home.
Before producing the spunk, he set up the stuff to thin it out. Beard cream appreciated the thickness of cum. It didn’t lend itself to aerosol hairspray. The bottles arrived yesterday. He was good to go.
He wanted as much of this stuff on the pre-Halloween shelves as he could produce while still fulfilling beard cream orders. Additional products were a pension for himself and Eloise. The interest on dumping some of the profits in a savings account would be their holiday. They both deserved one.
Lester didn’t have it good growing up. The household had love, but love didn’t put food on the table. His father tried to invent things, but they mainly existed based on selling off his mother’s antique furniture, piece by piece. Eloise had it rougher. She didn’t like to talk about it. Lester would hear her mumble in her sleep when he woke up with heavy balls. He pushed all thought out of his mind. He couldn’t allow it to cloud his hairspray.
He poured the contents of the semen collectors into a large glass vase he bought on the reduced aisle in the local supermarket. He still had the thriftiness extreme poverty taught him. With every last drop of cum squeezed out, he filled beakers from the vase. The spunk needed to be spun around really fast to thin it.
He used the drum from a tumble dryer. Anything scientific wouldn’t hold a big batch. He used that for the hairspray prototype.
While the cum spun around, he lined up the bottles on a conveyer belt. The factory was only semi-automatic. He liked to offer the personal touch.
The labels go on last, after he wipes each bottle down for stray jiz. With the cum ready, he poured the tubes into the big machine that would mix it with a little bit of tap water.
The first batch produced one hundred bottles. By the time he stuck on the labels, his balls were ready to make some beard cream. He sat on his new chair and powered it up for two hundred jars. He still had enough man-juice in him to have a go on top of Eloise, if she wanted.
He received the first order for ten bottles of his hairspray one week later. By that point, he already had six hundred bottles plus a surplus of beard cream. All the new equipment and fancy lotions for his foreskin meant Lester’s cock and balls were primed for constant milking.
He packaged the bottles up and sent them to the hair salon before making one hundred more bottles. Over the next six weeks, Lester’s Halloween Hairspray outsold Chester’s Cloudy Ice. Lester’s Electric Beard Cream sat in third place. There was nothing he could do to get both products in the top two spots. The hipsters needed their Cloudy Ice.
They also needed their beard cream, but Halloween 2017 had an 80s feel to it in protest of the 90s being the in fashion. Even the hipsters were in on the flannel shirts. Those were hung up for one week while the shoulder pads and leg warmers came back out. The people needed hairspray to complete the outfits.
Lester’s Halloween Hairspray didn’t simply tease hair up into a big rats’ nest of knots and tangles, it added texture to bald patches and made thin hair thicker, even after six washes. When people discovered the effects didn’t wash away, they scooped up the last bottles. It sold out four weeks before Halloween, with no plans of anymore until next year. Lester heard rumours of some bottles exchanging hands for four figures on an auction website, but he didn’t have the time to investigate.
Lester used the product himself before date-night. He hired a nanny to help Eloise. The nanny had no objections to warming hamsters in her arse.
He didn’t like the black puffy bags beneath his wife’s eyes. He had a special treat planned for her. He booked the tickets to Hologram Universe once he sold one hundred bottles of hairspray. They were front and centre. The few thousand pounds wouldn’t be missed from their pensions.
She fell asleep in his arms waiting for the show to start. She didn’t notice Chester’s entourage arrive in the row directly behind them. Lester did. It would be hard not to notice.
“Knew you would be here, big bro.”
Lester turned around. Chester winked at him.
“Did you come here to ruin my night?”
“I bought you some ice.”
Chester handed Lester a cup of ice.
“New product. It never melts. Sold in individual cups. Once Halloween is over, I’ll be back at number one.”
Lester should have known his brother would come up with something once the hairspray hit the market. The lights went down. Lester put the ice on the floor, he didn’t want to sample his brother’s cum. Light shone over him.
“I bought you some ice for your burns.”
Lester caught a glint of Chester’s smile. The teeth were fake and new. He wondered if he took them out to star in his home movies. A shadow crossed over his bed. Chester pulled on the bandages.
“Nothing like ice to take away the pain. This is from my new, premium range. Hipsters would pay direct from their beard cream and vinyl funds to receive this treatment.”
Something cold danced across Lester’s chest. The burns there never fully healed. He scratched at the scars as he waited for Hologram Universe to start. The moaning in his ears wanted to transport him back to the hospital bed. He pictured his favourite 80s temptress taking off her leg warmers on his bed as his wife snored softly in his arms.
He knew better than to look over his shoulder. He pictured Chester dressed in a hospital gown. His hair would be sleeked down with wax instead of teased up with hairspray. Chester wouldn’t touch a product made by Lester. He may have been a hipster hero, but he didn’t even have a five o’clock shadow. The 80s temptress banged on a sheet of shatter proof plastic between them. She was locked in a box, being dragged away by his brother to star in his movies.
One of his brother’s entourage would be jerking him off. Chester couldn’t even go two hours without releasing his balls, otherwise he’d be sitting in a sticky patch. Hospital gowns were transparent enough without cum seeping into them and displaying all the tangles in Chester’s pubes.
“Eloise, sweetie, time to wake up. The show is about to start.”
“Eloise.”
Moaning from behind him.
“Sweetie.”
More moaning. And a little giggle from one of Chester’s little starlets.
“Time to wake up.”
Chester blew his load with a squeal.
Eloise yawned in Lester’s arm. She squeaked. Something warm hit her in the head.
“Sorry, bro, just missed. That’s better than hairspray. Bit less 80s.”
Lester gritted his teeth and used his fingers to pull away the jiz in his wife’s hair. He flicked it over his shoulder without looking back.
“Oi! That was my eye.”
“Good.”
“I can’t star in my own movies with a patch over my eye.”
The music started before the holograms lit up.
Chester could complain all he wanted, 80s love songs were loud. They had to compete with synthesisers and butt rock for dominance, before grunge murdered all of it. 80s love songs were used to being loud.
Lester wouldn’t let Chester ruin Hologram Universe for him. It was the first baby-free night him and Eloise had. Chester ruined every date they ever had. It was amazing Eloise put up with it. He dreamed of seeing it when he had to go hunt rats for Buddette in dirty clothes because his benefits had been sanctioned. It was something he had been waiting years for. When Chester’s Cloudy Ice hit the market, he even thought of asking his brother to take him for his birthday gift.
The music washed through Lester and gave him tingles, washing away the bad memories. His best ideas came to him when the love songs played.
By Dani Brown, Queen of Filth
The new extension cord arrived, purchased from a private seller on Amazon. Lester could enjoy juice down the far end of the garden, past the birdbath and ornamental well. He took pleasure in the simple things in life.
His brother had a real working well, the waters thick with jiz. Lester found himself happy with the little ornamental well. He breathed in the scents of late summer to wash away the image of his brother jerking off into his water supply.
Nothing from Lester’s balls went to waste. One day, Chester would wake up and find himself blowing dust, despite never allowing spunk to fall down a drain. Chester wasted his cum in every way imaginable when he should focus on the world-famous Chester’s Cloudy Ice. If he wanted to expand his brand, that wouldn’t be a waste. But filling a water feature that no one received any joy from would be a frown from God.
All of Lester’s garden decorations were bought and paid for by his Electric Beard Cream profits. Lester hadn’t forgotten the hardships of benefit sanctions from only eighteen months ago. The memories still stung deep when he woke crying cum in the middle of the night. He didn’t like to waste his spunk. It kept him and his wife in relative luxury so he invented a special night mask, guided by a hand from the great beyond in the middle of a thunderstorm to collect his extra-salty tears for Lester’s Extra Special Beard Cream.
On the day he bought the extension cord, he purchased a new, light-weight cattle prod. It was expensive, but he wrote it off as something for the business. He wasn’t going to be messing around with dragging his milking chair outside.
He turned to face the house. It didn’t even have a mortgage. If he didn’t get in that car accident, he would still be in that dreadful little flat wondering what he would do to piss off the Job Centre next and begging for food outside Poundland.
Everything inside the house, everything outside, bought and paid for with the juice of his balls. Lester didn’t need credit. His business may not bring in as much money as his brother’s, but he didn’t waste what he earned. Even when the hipster bubble pops, him and Eloise will be set for life.
There wouldn’t be a summer holiday this year, or even next. Not with the little one so young and constantly attached to Eloise’s breasts. When the time was right, he’d take his family on the holiday of a life time with the sales of his new product.
It would be a limited edition run. He planned to create a demand for supply. He couldn’t produce it all year though. A run of a lot of work was fine, but he needed to rest too. Everyone needed rest. All except Chester. Lester’s little brother had to constantly milk himself, unless he wanted to wear an adult diaper to absorb the spunk.
Lester needed absolute peace to produce the best man-juice. He focused on the image of an 80s temptress wearing nothing apart from leg warmers to chase the image of Chester from his mind.
The quality of the hairspray needed to be consistent so the lid wouldn’t clog. It wasn’t like the beard cream. Different labels went on different qualities. Beard cream was sold in a jar, jars couldn’t clog.
The trees were too young to shelter him from the neighbours viewing from an upstairs window but he didn’t care. He gave their house a salute. With Chester dropping in on him whenever he wanted, it wasn’t like they hadn’t already seen Cummington cock.
Lester hung a tablet computer from a branch. Signal was great. He could stream all the 80s love songs he wanted. They really got him going and improved the quality of his cum.
He could stream rom-coms too. He preferred to save those for sexy time. He showered Eloise with spunk. Chester laughed at him for having a wife, but nothing was more important than true love.
When it ran out of his eyes, she’d lick his tears. Nothing went to waste in the older Cummington brother’s house. Unless Eloise asked to rub the spunk into her breasts. It soothed her cracked nipples.
The design for hairspray came to him one night while feeding Buddette. Since that episode he spent in the hospital, all the snake’s food had to be warmed in his anus before she’d touch it. He couldn’t let his baby starve.
He wouldn’t allow her to fetch it fresh out of his arse. She pined for the time Chester put her on film overindulging on hamsters she pulled out of porn star arseholes.
Lester took her to a specialist pet therapist who let him pay for treatment in jars of beard cream. He used it as an ointment on his white hair with streaks the colour of piss. Letting his mind drift while warming the hamster gave Lester the idea.
The beard cream market was stable, if the hipster bubble didn’t burst. It wasn’t even a case of if, but when. Every hour, another man with a beard had a visit from the hipster fairy and declared beard cream a necessity. Soon, they’ll decide to shave them off and have their tattoos removed with laser surgery, leaving only a few hipsters to carry on the tradition.
Hairspray wasn’t as popular outside of the music videos for Lester’s favourite songs. A holiday special product would bring in enough money to hire someone to warm Buddette’s hamsters.
He made double his beard cream quota since he had the custom-made chair. Lester and Eloise’s saving accounts were filled to bursting, much like his balls. His new chair released electricity into his anus based on knobs on the armrest and massaged his balls to ensure every last drop of spunk was released.
Lester had total control when in his new chair. The hairspray didn’t require total control, just a simple change of scenery to make it work. And a little wrist action.
He let the love songs of the late 80s and early 90s into his system until his body hair stood up with tingles. Those were the songs that danced in his veins and forced his heart to beat. All the stress of an adulthood spent on benefits left him as the songs played.
He hung his trousers over a tree and taped semen collectors to his eyes, just in case. Whenever Lester’s eyes watered, they still lost spunk. No amount of surgery could fix that entirely. Eloise found it sexy.
Lester accepted no product would ever be as successful as Chester’s Cloudy Ice. Even when the hipsters shave off their beards and stop searching for the most obscure music they can find, they’ll still buy Chester’s Cloudy Ice. It was apparently more addictive than sugar and nicotine combine. But, without the lethal consequences. If one considered sucking salt out of Chester’s cum non-lethal. Lester wasn’t so sure. He thought it might shorten lives.
Lester accepted his younger brother produced more cum than him and didn’t have a wife needing weekly satisfaction. Lester didn’t mind. Him and Eloise had it good. Lester was happy, while Chester still chased that happiness into his porno collection.
An autumnal chill circled his ankles. Still plenty of time to get the hairspray onto shelves before Halloween. August would soon give way to September and September to October.
He attached the portable spunk hose to his cock and cracked the volume on the tablet. The collection device was nothing more than the bags Eloise used to freeze her breast milk.
If the product took off and there was demand for it next year, he’d install speakers into a hollow fibreglass tree. He could even use the tree to store the new cattle prod. It would be used just for hairspray. If Lester planned to expand his range, he would need special cattle prods for each product.
He plugged the cattle prod into the extension cord and shoved it up his anus, lubricant-free. He didn’t like to mess around with lubes. They might attract wasps. A sting in the wrong place would disable him for one week or more.
Lester didn’t need to stretch his mind to recall the pain of his balls drooping beneath his knees. If Eloise required a rest or nipple ointment from the chemist and he was left with the little one for even an extra hour, his balls would start to fall. He needed to milk himself regularly. He could only do that with electricity pulsing through his arsehole. A wasp sting would swell it shut.
He was surprised Chester didn’t complain of the same problem, but then again, Chester’s balls milked themselves, even while he was sleeping. He would text Lester at least once per week with pictures of his sheets. Thinking of his little brother would only result in the jiz leaking from his eyes. The quality was okay enough for low-grade beard cream. It wouldn’t be good enough for Lester’s Halloween Hairspray.
He didn’t even think of Eloise while milking himself. He thought of the 80s temptresses with their big hair and even bigger shoulder pads. Lester was too polite to picture them naked or in lacy lingerie. That was reserved for chasing images of his little brother out of his head. He felt guilty for thinking of their nipples and bush, but no one ever had to find out.
Lip-singing into a microphone and dancing around a set was enough to get him hard. He wanted to get his fingers caught in their teased hair. A little zap with the cattle prod and he filled a portable semen collector (he didn’t like to think of them as the baggies his wife used to freeze breast milk).
He sealed it and put it to one side. There was more juice in his balls yet. He repeated it, thinking of a different 80s temptress. He loved them all, as they were, back then. Their breasts as perky as their hair.
Lester kept his eyes open, but he wasn’t really in his back garden, wondering if the neighbours watched him. He was on a set for a music video, back when music videos ruled the world. She came out in a skimpy outfit and leg warmers and rolled around on the floor. Her eyes caught Lester’s. She winked.
He pressed the button on the cattle prod for more juice. His balls quivered. The portable collector filled. He had to return to the garden before it overflowed and he ended up with semen dripping down his legs. That wouldn’t make for very good hairspray.
He sealed the collector. His balls screamed for more relief. He gave them what they needed until he blew dust.
There was enough spunk for one batch of hairspray. He took it into the house with his tablet computer and electric cattle prod. He wound the extension cord up as he walked the length of the garden and in through the patio doors.
He forgot his trousers. He wasn’t going to run back out there with the semen still warm. Lester ran to his basement instead. Down there, he had a lab for developing new products. Unlike his brother, he liked to have his spunk in many pies. Eloise never went down there, not even to dust.
The lights were motion sensor. He afforded himself a lot of luxury, but had those installed as a necessity. He knew one day, they would be needed. The day was sooner than he thought with his hands full.
With the stress and excitement of moving and a baby, he didn’t believe he’d be able to think of any new products for at least another twelve months. Life worked out in a funny sort of way. Two years ago, he couldn’t get an erection without agony.
The lab sparkled at him. The only dirt he could see came from the pencil shavings of the rough sketch he drew of the product.
The one bottle of hairspray he made and tested sat gleaming on a shelf. A simple, handwritten label stared at him. Hairspray, July 2017. The only prototype made in his new home.
Before producing the spunk, he set up the stuff to thin it out. Beard cream appreciated the thickness of cum. It didn’t lend itself to aerosol hairspray. The bottles arrived yesterday. He was good to go.
He wanted as much of this stuff on the pre-Halloween shelves as he could produce while still fulfilling beard cream orders. Additional products were a pension for himself and Eloise. The interest on dumping some of the profits in a savings account would be their holiday. They both deserved one.
Lester didn’t have it good growing up. The household had love, but love didn’t put food on the table. His father tried to invent things, but they mainly existed based on selling off his mother’s antique furniture, piece by piece. Eloise had it rougher. She didn’t like to talk about it. Lester would hear her mumble in her sleep when he woke up with heavy balls. He pushed all thought out of his mind. He couldn’t allow it to cloud his hairspray.
He poured the contents of the semen collectors into a large glass vase he bought on the reduced aisle in the local supermarket. He still had the thriftiness extreme poverty taught him. With every last drop of cum squeezed out, he filled beakers from the vase. The spunk needed to be spun around really fast to thin it.
He used the drum from a tumble dryer. Anything scientific wouldn’t hold a big batch. He used that for the hairspray prototype.
While the cum spun around, he lined up the bottles on a conveyer belt. The factory was only semi-automatic. He liked to offer the personal touch.
The labels go on last, after he wipes each bottle down for stray jiz. With the cum ready, he poured the tubes into the big machine that would mix it with a little bit of tap water.
The first batch produced one hundred bottles. By the time he stuck on the labels, his balls were ready to make some beard cream. He sat on his new chair and powered it up for two hundred jars. He still had enough man-juice in him to have a go on top of Eloise, if she wanted.
He received the first order for ten bottles of his hairspray one week later. By that point, he already had six hundred bottles plus a surplus of beard cream. All the new equipment and fancy lotions for his foreskin meant Lester’s cock and balls were primed for constant milking.
He packaged the bottles up and sent them to the hair salon before making one hundred more bottles. Over the next six weeks, Lester’s Halloween Hairspray outsold Chester’s Cloudy Ice. Lester’s Electric Beard Cream sat in third place. There was nothing he could do to get both products in the top two spots. The hipsters needed their Cloudy Ice.
They also needed their beard cream, but Halloween 2017 had an 80s feel to it in protest of the 90s being the in fashion. Even the hipsters were in on the flannel shirts. Those were hung up for one week while the shoulder pads and leg warmers came back out. The people needed hairspray to complete the outfits.
Lester’s Halloween Hairspray didn’t simply tease hair up into a big rats’ nest of knots and tangles, it added texture to bald patches and made thin hair thicker, even after six washes. When people discovered the effects didn’t wash away, they scooped up the last bottles. It sold out four weeks before Halloween, with no plans of anymore until next year. Lester heard rumours of some bottles exchanging hands for four figures on an auction website, but he didn’t have the time to investigate.
Lester used the product himself before date-night. He hired a nanny to help Eloise. The nanny had no objections to warming hamsters in her arse.
He didn’t like the black puffy bags beneath his wife’s eyes. He had a special treat planned for her. He booked the tickets to Hologram Universe once he sold one hundred bottles of hairspray. They were front and centre. The few thousand pounds wouldn’t be missed from their pensions.
She fell asleep in his arms waiting for the show to start. She didn’t notice Chester’s entourage arrive in the row directly behind them. Lester did. It would be hard not to notice.
“Knew you would be here, big bro.”
Lester turned around. Chester winked at him.
“Did you come here to ruin my night?”
“I bought you some ice.”
Chester handed Lester a cup of ice.
“New product. It never melts. Sold in individual cups. Once Halloween is over, I’ll be back at number one.”
Lester should have known his brother would come up with something once the hairspray hit the market. The lights went down. Lester put the ice on the floor, he didn’t want to sample his brother’s cum. Light shone over him.
“I bought you some ice for your burns.”
Lester caught a glint of Chester’s smile. The teeth were fake and new. He wondered if he took them out to star in his home movies. A shadow crossed over his bed. Chester pulled on the bandages.
“Nothing like ice to take away the pain. This is from my new, premium range. Hipsters would pay direct from their beard cream and vinyl funds to receive this treatment.”
Something cold danced across Lester’s chest. The burns there never fully healed. He scratched at the scars as he waited for Hologram Universe to start. The moaning in his ears wanted to transport him back to the hospital bed. He pictured his favourite 80s temptress taking off her leg warmers on his bed as his wife snored softly in his arms.
He knew better than to look over his shoulder. He pictured Chester dressed in a hospital gown. His hair would be sleeked down with wax instead of teased up with hairspray. Chester wouldn’t touch a product made by Lester. He may have been a hipster hero, but he didn’t even have a five o’clock shadow. The 80s temptress banged on a sheet of shatter proof plastic between them. She was locked in a box, being dragged away by his brother to star in his movies.
One of his brother’s entourage would be jerking him off. Chester couldn’t even go two hours without releasing his balls, otherwise he’d be sitting in a sticky patch. Hospital gowns were transparent enough without cum seeping into them and displaying all the tangles in Chester’s pubes.
“Eloise, sweetie, time to wake up. The show is about to start.”
“Eloise.”
Moaning from behind him.
“Sweetie.”
More moaning. And a little giggle from one of Chester’s little starlets.
“Time to wake up.”
Chester blew his load with a squeal.
Eloise yawned in Lester’s arm. She squeaked. Something warm hit her in the head.
“Sorry, bro, just missed. That’s better than hairspray. Bit less 80s.”
Lester gritted his teeth and used his fingers to pull away the jiz in his wife’s hair. He flicked it over his shoulder without looking back.
“Oi! That was my eye.”
“Good.”
“I can’t star in my own movies with a patch over my eye.”
The music started before the holograms lit up.
Chester could complain all he wanted, 80s love songs were loud. They had to compete with synthesisers and butt rock for dominance, before grunge murdered all of it. 80s love songs were used to being loud.
Lester wouldn’t let Chester ruin Hologram Universe for him. It was the first baby-free night him and Eloise had. Chester ruined every date they ever had. It was amazing Eloise put up with it. He dreamed of seeing it when he had to go hunt rats for Buddette in dirty clothes because his benefits had been sanctioned. It was something he had been waiting years for. When Chester’s Cloudy Ice hit the market, he even thought of asking his brother to take him for his birthday gift.
The music washed through Lester and gave him tingles, washing away the bad memories. His best ideas came to him when the love songs played.