You received a package that day. 'When the time comes, you will know what to do,' read the accompanying note in handwriting that resembled yours. It contained a tiny portal gun, that experimentation showed only made blue portals. Tiny blue portals.
After even more experimentation, you found out that the orange portal was fixed on the wall of a public toilet cubicle in Grimsby.
It was a glory hole gun!
You weren't quite sure what to do with it at first. You'd penetrate the blue portal and wonder how this looked from the other side. You supposed you should look like you wanted it, but how? Hanging a little sign from it was probably a bit much. No matter. You got the hang of it eventually. It became an occasional part of your Saturday nights – finding yourself with a lazy lob-on, you'd shoot a blue portal and stick your knob in. Sometimes no-one would be there, occasionally it was amazing, most times it was just a half-hearted little suck.
One month, looking in the portal with a dentist's mirror showed you that someone had drawn around the hole so that it was an anteater nose. This wasn't very erotic for the people sucking you off, so often they just popped their bum on it instead. Some weeks later, the anteater grafitto was cleaned off. You had mixed feelings about this.
One day, you put your knob in and quickly withdrew it upon feeling an odd sensation. Someone had painted your helmet green. You heard laughter and applause, like a game show studio audience. 'Fifty-nine!' called out a game show host to rapturous applause. You looked through your little blue portal.
Someone had moved the orange portal.
Your mum was in the studio audience. Gah! Luckily she couldn't possibly have recognised you. You had to throw your pants away after that. Green emulsion is hard to wash out. It took several days to all wear off your skin too. And the crusty green flakes resembled a very unfortunate STD. Being reminded of your mum every time you saw your dick put you right off wanking for a few days.
Your little blue portal gun was ineffective for a long time after that. You'd shoot it, only to see shifting opaque blue that meant no open orange. Rarely it would work, but there was nothing of any interest on the other side. Whoever was placing orange portals had seemingly no pattern. Was this ever really meant to be a glory hole gun? Or was that a wonderful accident? After a year, you largely forgot about it. You stashed the cute little gun in a drawer somewhere. Until one magnificent day, when you awoke to see the little orange portal on your wall.
You frantically scrabbled around for the portal gun and a screwdriver to remove a tabletop, as you prepared to do the inevitable. (You never stopped to think about who was placing the orange portals.) It turned out that having your willy in a mouth was more or less exactly balanced out by having a willy in your mouth. That was disappointing. You tried bumming yourself, but it was super difficult getting the angle right. Plus it got uncomfortable trying to hold up the weight of the tabletop. You ended up just kind of jughandling yourself a bit with a rapidly deflating boner. (Was it really jughandling if you weren't manually bending your penis? You weren't sure.) Then you got poo on your willy and got put right off.
'AAARGH! ARGH! I'VE GOT POO ON MY WILLY!'
There was potential in this portal gun, though. If only you could find a way to keep the orange portal and reposition it. You opened up the gun, and it was just full of wobbling blue portal-matter, like a gun-shaped void in the world. Eerie. Oh well. You could always return to your days of drilling a hole in the wall and fucking that.
'Hang on,' you suddenly paused. 'SINCE WHEN HAVE I HAD A KNOB??'