What the duck?

Fred Fletch leads horny cyber-spacemen into a honeytrap, with the help of his feathered friends

Article by FRED FLETCH | 13 May 2015
  • Fred Fletch: What the Duck?

This month I'd set my heart on interviewing Kenneth Marshall from the film Krull (1983). You might remember Krull as the greatest movie ever made and what's playing while I have sex with you. Marshall, though, seems to have vanished. So, without having an article ready, I did what any self-respecting writer would do: I drank six beers, posed as astronaut Molly Woods (as played by Halle Berry) and posted the plot to Spielberg’s sci-fi series Extant on a lonely hearts site under the section for no-strings sex.

The ad ran:

Married Spacewoman seeks open minded soulmate

Hi, I’m a 47 year old African-American woman looking for connections in a confusing world. I work for NASA, and have been away from my husband for the last year, working alone on a secret space-related mission.

My husband and I have been drifting apart for some time now. He is a very intelligent man who builds cybernetics but sometimes I feel like he loves his robots more than me. Things got complicated when I ended up pregnant (oops, my husband isn’t the father). I can’t remember how it happened but I think I’ll just blame aliens.

The whole space-pregnancy thing has got my boss super suspicious and I feel disconnected and unloved during this complicated time. Obviously, I’m not looking for commitment, just hoping to find someone to remind me that there is still passion in this universe of space-eggs and robots.

Get in touch if you can help me remember what it is to be human.

P.S. I have awesome tits. I got them out once in an adventure involving computers and an elaborate bank robbery.

Against all odds and reason, within the hour I received over 80 replies from local men wanting to put their genitals deep inside a lady-astronaut filled with space-babies. Not wanting to disappoint, I answered their replies:

Rob: Hi. I’m a good looking 42 year old guy and think we would get along. Are your tits really awesome? Prove it.

Fred Fletch: Mmmmm. Tell me exactly how big your duck is?

R: LOL straight to the point. It's 6 inches and more than enough for you to enjoy.

FF: A 6 inch duck? That seems a little small. Is it just a baby?

R: That's average size and good and thick. You'll love it.

FF: According to the internet, the average size of a duck is 20 inches. When you say it is thick, do you mean it is cognitively impaired? Ducks are usually quite intelligent.

R: What? I'm confused. 20 inches or are you talking centimetres? 6 inches is average.

FF: *sends picture of duck* I’m talking inches, but I guess some confusion might be over wingspan. I’m measuring tail to beak.

R: Fuck off.

The next reply came from Brad:

Brad: Hey baby. You for real? You sound crazy but crazy good. You want me to fuck those big milky tits for you? If your husband is too busy with robots let a real man like me make you feel human. I would go down on you for hours and you'd love it.

FF: I admire your promise to 'go down on me for hours', but the duration of the act does not necessarily equate to quality of experience. I could play Monopoly for hours but it doesn't mean anyone is having any fun.

B: You crazy girl. You like doing it outdoors? I got a car we could go somewhere and fuck each senseless. How far gone are you? Lol you'd maybe need to go on top. Don't wanna fuck you so hard you go into labour. Lol that would mess up my car seats.

FF: I'm no expert on space-pregnancies, but if my water breaks it will eat through your car like acid and we might need to get home Fred Flintstone-style. (Maybe we should park on a slope prior to all that orbit-breaking fucking you promise). Should I also bring my Travel Monopoly, or do you prefer Boggle?

B: Fuck off weirdo

Perhaps I'd do better with Paul, who sounded like a nice guy:

Paul: I would love to remind you of what it’s like to be human. I'm also an attached guy who is drifting from my partner so if you are interested let me know.

FF: Thanks for the message Paul. Sorry to hear that you’re drifting from your partner. Do you think your troubles have anything to do with the size of your duck?

P: No troubles in that area. I just don't seem to be getting enough attention from her in that department. You will be happy to know that I've never had any complaints. Do you have a pic? I'll send you mine if you show me yours. 

FF: I’d love to see a picture of your duck Paul. I’d love one of my own. I could play with it all day.

P: *Includes blurry picture of penis* Hope you like the look of mine. Now it’s your turn.

FF: That’s a very unusual looking duck Paul. Was it in some sort of horrible accident? Poor thing, I’d probably take it to a vet – where the fuck are its feathers?

P: Fuck off you stupid time-wasting asshole

FF: Hello. I am Mr Spaceman, my wife's husband. Why are you talking to a married woman about ducks and sending her pictures of what looks like a urologist’s suicide note?

P: Fuck off cunt, I'm reporting you.

By 4am, I had received over 150 replies to my advert but became bored. If you happen to see Krull's Ken Marshall, tell him to reply to the ad that says his fucking destiny is calling. 

Krull played in cinemas in 1983