Something weird. (Alison POV)

Before the boys could answer, an intense wave of dizziness hit Alison. She swayed as her vision narrowed. Her knees hurt and everything looked strange for a second before she realized that she had dropped to a kneeling position.

"Does it have nobble?" she asked, then frowned at the words that had come out of her mouth. "That's oh-what-do-you."

Matt and Johnny were looking quizzically at Jeff. "Conceptual scrambler," he said with a grin. "I found it online. For the next hour or so, Alison's gonna have a hard time making sense of things. I thought it would be fun to drive her functionally insane for a while, especially since she won't be able to hold it against me."

Alison stared at him uncomprehendingly. She heard the words, but they made no sense to her. She fell forward onto her hands and looked at her fingernails. They looked like planets. There was a pressure and the world was moving, moving and the men were like mailboxes around her.

A sound came from the mouth of the Johnny, it sounded like a song. "Hey Alison, what's your name?"

It came out and her mind knew that the next thing was that her mouth should make a sound. "Binge twits," she said to them. A snap and a slight wave and she was cold and floppy. She felt as the mailbox man leaned and put itself onto her and it was good, it felt good, and she wanted to speak it.

"Do. Do. Go. Argh," she said with her mouth. "It flutters." The mailbox made chuckle except the one that was mouthing onto her front. She felt her body twitch and grow warm.

"I drove you insane, bitch." These letters tumbled out of the box. "What do you think about that?"

She smiled and the world inverted. She couldn't understand what was happening but it felt very good. "Icicle," she moaned softly. The Johnny was wet and red, the Jeff looked like a different influx of particulate matter. A thrill shot down her and the Johnny cried out. "Can we get a little privacy, guys?"

She turned to face the other mailboxes. "Without warning," she explained patiently as the Johnny grunt growled, "it's just another crack." They made chuckle and turned. The Jeff made more words that she couldn't follow. "I better not see any fucking bruises when you're done with her."

The Jeff was sweet, sweet like the wet throbbing flowing pulsing energetic mush that was happening to her, inside her, among her. "Oatmeal!" she cried ecstatically and felt a tugging at her front that was a bounce and jiggle. Between her legs was the world and a mailbox, moving so fast. "I can still see it!"

"Jesus, you really are insane now, huh?" the mailbox vomited the sounds to her ears and Alison knew what to do. She bent over it felt so good when the angle was different and put her mouth tongue between his looking-holes. She dragged, dragged, dragged it like a dockworker with a sandwich and the mailbox made another sound.

"Did you just lick my fucking eye?" it made but she couldn't think, whatever it was doing didn't want to stop didn't want to, she felt it in her brainmindpussy and when it hits it hits and when it stops it stops. The Jeff thing was making louder, faster and she could make faster too, like climbing a hill. She was going and going and she could see the top of the hill. "Climb faster!" she cried and a pain but good and she was digging, digging to get to the hilltop and then she was

weightless soundless mindless exploding and the sounds pierced it and for a moment she was Alison again, Johnny coming in her as she rode him and heard her keening and then it all crumbled again as the wind whooshes by her she falls, falls and is on the Johnny.

"Fuck," comes the words from that thing.

"Cartography," she agrees.