| 
  • If you are citizen of an European Union member nation, you may not use this service unless you are at least 16 years old.

  • Finally, you can manage your Google Docs, uploads, and email attachments (plus Dropbox and Slack files) in one convenient place. Claim a free account, and in less than 2 minutes, Dokkio (from the makers of PBworks) can automatically organize your content for you.

View
 

IAT-Act05-Chapter03-Frame

Page history last edited by PBworks 13 years, 8 months ago

It's Always Time

by Oblimo

Act Five: Just Desserts

Chapter Three

Too Little, Too Late

 

 

Please post !

 

Intermezzi

 

Tomoe Exposition walks into the sterile white plane. The click-clack of her heels echoes. Soon she finds a worn, maroon leather recliner chair next to a counterfeit Tiffany floor lamp. "Wow. A Matrix reference. Why am I not surprised."

 

She sits in the lounger, taking care to cross her legs and smooth her miniskirt. The chair faces the frame. She looks out at you, her dark eyes merry, her smile inscrutable. "Oh, hey! Long time no see." She scoots back into the chair, the leather scrunching. "Sorry for this hokey Fourth Wall routine, but Oblimo asked me to say a few words. Me, I don't think they need to be said." She folds her arms across her blouse. "He's a bit of a wuss when it comes to new things. Besides, if you've read this far, you probably know what's coming. Oblimo lets me read the roughs, so I definitely know what's coming, at least as much as he does, which—granted—isn't always that much. Sometimes, the inspiration fairy takes its time when taking a dump."

 

Tomoe plops her hands onto the armrests, and sighs. "Okay. Here's the deal: Yves' getting some in this chapter. More than some. If you ask me, it's about damn time. Yaoi is my second favorite thing to watch while I whack off, next to futa of course. That's 'homoerotica' and 'dickgirl' porn, respectively, in case there are any noobs out there." She reaches her right hand down and pulls a wooden handle. The back of the chair reclines and the footrest pops up.

 

She props herself up on her elbows to look out at you again. "This chapter features a ton of hardcore yaoi-futa fucking. Me, I'm in hog heaven. For some reason, Oblimo wanted you to know ahead of time. I'm sure there's more he wanted me to say…" Tomoe leans up, bent over double, and wrestles with the zipper on the back of her black skirt for a while. "But I don’t give a damn. If watching SB and Yves doesn't turn you on, that's your business." She wriggles her lithe, olive-skinned legs and kicks off the skirt. It drops to the nominal floor. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gunna get down to business."

 

The frantic fingers of her right hand squirm into the crotch of her rosy silk panties just as her left hand reaches up and switches off the lamp.

 

"Get writing, big boy."

 

 

 

 

"Oh, hardy-har fucking har-har."

 

Study the myths and legends of cultures across the world, and many uncanny similarities soon appear: great floods, winged dragons, serpentine women, cannibal kings, cunning imps, and mad oracles are just a few of the common mythological motifs. Look closer still and the stories of myth, the sequence of events tying these mythic motifs together, take on a familiar rhythm: a hero must journey into the underworlds of Hell to recover what was lost; a heroine must endure trials of pain and disgrace to free her beloved from enchantment; hubris is punished, courtesy rewarded; a prophecy of doom is only fulfilled when someone tries to prevent it from happening in the first place.

 

Many of these coincidences can be explained by the myth-makers' proximity in time and geography. Roman myths mirror earlier Greek myths because the Romans adopted the legends and religions of the peoples they conquered. But the continual repetition of themes, symbols, and events have lead some scholars to hypothesize the existence of a monomyth, a central story ingrained so deep in social fabric and psyche of the human condition that it is the seed for all others. Attempts to distill the monomyth from the corpus of world legend have met with only modest success. The failure to find the monomyth is not one of method, but of point of view, and the monomyth will remain hidden until the mythographer considers the possibility that, instead of the same story being retold over and over in slight variation, the same story, the same sequences of events, is actually recurring, playing out again and again, throughout history and across the world, by the same players under different names.

 

And ingredients.

 

-From the introduction to Deiter Detwiler: The Hero with a Thousand Flavors, by Ursula Frost, 2nd Printing 2009

 

Update 02/20/07

 


 

 

 

Freeing his elbows did the trick. Dee pried his chest and legs from the crushing strata of granite beneath the pavement, dug through rubble, and hauled ass onto the asphalt. Grit got everywhere and itched like crazy.

 

"Some superman," Raspberry said as Dee emerged, one hand shoved into the seat of his pants, "scratching his ass to get glad." She wiggled in her impromptu straightjacket by Brooks Brothers. Eurydice knelt behind Raspberry and encouraged the lavender girl to recline into her green gel-flesh. Raspberry lay back with little grace. "He took his damn sweet time, too." Eurydice reached around in silence, plucking at the knotted sleeves below Raspberry's breasts. "I was about to suggest you frig a few gallons of cum down that hole and grease him out," Raspberry said, and snickered at the green girl.

 

Eurydice perked up. "Hey, really? That’s exactly what I was gunna do! Ellagic and citric minds must think alike." She tugged the cuff out of the knot. "But I'm too low on nanomek."

 

Raspberry flushed violet. "I was joking. You, uh, can really cum that much?"

 

"Oh, sure. Just for starters." Eurydice paused to watch Dee fuss with his cindery underwear. "That man really gets my motor running. Oh, Raz, don't cry. What's wrong?"

 

Amethyst tears dashed down, melting little pits into the blacktop. "I wanna get laid!"

 

Eurydice clucked. "That dick is Mine, girl." The knot came undone at last. "But maybe we can work something out." She peeled Yves' shirt away from Raspberry's chest.

 

Raspberry pulled away fast. "No, don't."

 

"You've got enough nanomek to hold yourself together, don't you?"

 

Raspberry shrugged. The overshirt yawned. Her nipples stiffened and caught the material, the midline of her breasts and midriff peeping out. "Yeah, but that's not it." She settled back into Eurydice's lap, gazing across the road.

 

Yves was helping Ursula pick through the concrete debris beneath the overpass. They moved from slab to slab, Ursula clinging to Yves waist, Yves supporting her by the shoulders. Raspberry undulated, a single wave rippling out from her core. The shirt-sleeves bulged, filling with lavender gel until her fingers wriggled out from the cuffs. Eyes locked on the bishi and goth girl across the street, Raspberry raised a forearm and scraped her lips over the sturdy cotton, breathing deep and shuddery. "This tastes sooo much fuckin' better than the mixing bowl."

 


 

 

Ursula cast about. "They've got to be somewhere."

 

"Your glasses?" Yves asked.

 

Ursula turned in his arms. "Does it look like we need glasses?"

 

Yves still startled each time she—not "she," "they"—moved against him. Earlier that morning, standing together before Bee's apartment, he and Ursula had held hands. The hallway became a sauna and Ursula's hand had felt as warm, clammy, and shaky as his. But that was all before Ursula met Nyx. When he had clambered over the broken concrete beneath the overpass and reached down to help her up—"them," damn it, help "them" up—it was the first time he had touched Unyx.

 

Unyx's hand had felt cool and dry, fluid but not liquid and utterly frictionless. He had shook hands with a ghost. He had looked down at her face and saw his own image double reflected in eyes of polished obsidian. No irises, no whites, not even eyebrows, just shining black orbs in a shadow eye-mask in the shape of infinity (), a sideways figure eight. One loop of the eye-mask had arched up her milk-white forehead (oO). Yves realized this was Unyx's version of cocking her eyebrow.

 

And then he had blurted, "Ben Franklin!"

 

Now Yves looked into Unyx's black-on-black eyes again. "No, you don't," he said. "Those glasses did look good on you, though. On Ursula."

 

Unyx softened and smiled. "Yeah, they did. We'll have to fix them, take out the lenses, and put in flat glass." The eye-mask dwindled and drained away, revealing Ursula's eyes, the irises neither hazel nor emerald but a shining ebony. "I have nanomek contacts now, Yves," Ursula said. "I can see gravity. I'm sorry, Yves, I know this must be freaking you out." She giggled and imitated his voice, "'Ben Franklin!' You still haven't explained that."

 

"Tell me what we're looking for, first," Yves said.

 

"My hair." She touched a pom-pom tufted end of one of her shorn, horizontal pigtails. "My braids. I can't find them anywhere. Not here, not now…" She stared of into the middle distance somewhere past Yves' left ear. "Not ten minutes into the past or future." She ghost-squeezed his shoulder. "We need to find my hair, Yves, or we're all royally fucked. Nyx cut as subtly as she could, but even meliae can’t cut sharp enough to sever such a strong sympathetic connection."

 

"Ten minutes where? Sharp enough to what? Wait, your hair?"

 

"No fair." She shook her head, whacking Yves with a pigtail. "Oops, sorry. I want my answer: Why 'Ben Franklin'?"

 

"Caloric theory," Yves said. Ursula looked blank. "Look, I may have taken English for Engineers in college, but I know my history of science. Ben Franklin thought that electricity was a fluid. Before modern atomic theory, all sorts of stuff was considered fluid: electricity, light, heat and cold, were all supposed to be a kind of dry fluid. You know: goo. I touched your hand, touched Nyx, and the first thing I thought of was Ben fucking Franklin and his fucking electric-heat goo." Something clicked in his head and his migraine returned with a vengeance. "Oh, no, not Benjamin Franklin. Do not tell me Nyx boned Franklin in a past life or something. I can't take any more of that kind of crap."

 

Update 02/22/07

 

 

Ursula laughed hard enough to make her stumble. She cinched her arms tighter about Yves waist and he gave her shoulders a supporting hug. He had to hook his arm in her armpit or risk slipping off her near-frictionless, second skin. Ursula puffed, pressing her cheek to Yves' ribs. "Oof, so little nanomek left, I need to be careful."

 

"I saw that," Raspberry cried out from across the street. "Oldest trick in the book, baby-butch bitch!" But Eurydice and CeeCee, still lying supine on the side of the road, gave Ursula a thumbs-up.

 

Ursula stuck her tongue out at all three of them; to Yves relief, it was as pink as ever, not black. "Anyway," she said, "Nyx doesn't remember fucking any Founding Fathers. She's different from the others. Not a meliae, really; something else."

 

"What the heck is she made of, anyway?" Yves asked.

 

"Just what you said: electric-heat goo. Sort of. Black Cherry mixed her from Devil's Food pudding and a about a pint of latex paint."

 

Yves massaged a temple hard with his thumb although he knew full well it would not help his migraine. "But those two things don’t mix. At all."

 

"No, they don't," Ursula agreed, "but they gave the nanomek a framework to work its magic, to mix her essence, not just her physical substance" She pulled away, testing her own balance. "You know your history of science, I know my alchemy. Nyx is phlogiston, the terra pinguis et fluida: the black blood of the Earth."

 

"You mean oil."

 

"She means Black Blood of the Earth," Tomoe cackled, hopping from one slab to the other, snake-skin purse swinging on its strap. "That reminds me: I wonder what Egg Shen is up to? Took him clubbing about two centuries ago and he never called back, the bastard." She reached an adjacent slab. "Hey, little sisters. Is your last name Exposition, by any chance? You're better at it than me."

 

"It's Frost." Ursula looked Tomoe up and down. "'Tiamat,' huh?" She smirked. "How many hit dice you got?"

 

Tomoe harrumphed, then leaned close and took up one horizontal pigtail in each hand. "Handlebars," she drawled, giving Ursula's hair a gentle-back-and-forth tug. She stood straight, hands on hips, and surveyed the whole Ursula/Nyx package. "I'd ride that like a bicycle."

 

"Oh, ha ha…Oh. Oh, shit. Yves." Ursula turned, obsidian eyes glittering in alarm. "Black Cherry. Black Cherry must have my hair."

 

"Uh, I've got be honest." Yves shrugged. "So what? She's got Galatea, is planning a mass rape-murder of about fifty college guys, and then ending the world. I think we need to prioritize a bit here. What am I missing?" An engine revved somewhere above them.

 

"I haven't had a haircut since I was twelve." It was Yves' turn to look blank, so Ursula continued. "Remember all that sympathetic magic stuff I talked about? How my soap established a connection between me and Galatea, so I could find her? Well, a decade worth of my hair, all cut off at once, is the strongest sympathetic connection to me anyone could possibly have, other than some fresh blood. It's better than any voodoo doll; it's a perfect stand in for me, for my body." The humming motor drew near. "If Black Cherry knows anything about magic, she can turn me—and Nyx—into skank-bots with it, and then use us to control anyone we have a sympathetic connection with."

 

"Your homemade soap," Yves said in dawning dread. "Galatea used it. Dee too."

 

"And the girl at Starbucks," Ursula said.

 

Yves thought about it. "You mean the one with the great—"

 

"Yeah," Ursula butted in, blushing in grayscale as a rose Mini Cooper sped down the highway off ramp toward them.

 

"Black magic is just like VD," Tomoe said, nodding. The Mini Cooper zipped past, horn meep-meeping a friendly greeting. "But you don't even get to cum first."

 


 

 

Dee contemplated his navel, plumbing for pebbles. The rose Cooper pulled up beside him, idling. The passenger door popped open, the front seat pushed up to the glove compartment. Four gallons of bottled water sloshed in the rear foot well. The brunette EZ coed lay unconscious on the narrow back bench. "She's wearing your dress," Dee said.

 

The little car's AM radio crackled to life. "You want her naked?"

 

"No," Dee said, straightening his muscle shirt and bending in, "but I didn't think someone else could wear it. You can divide?" He moved the four bottles onto the road.

 

"Not exactly," came SB's voice from the radio. "Only one part of me can really come off. I can make all sorts of things, though."

 

Dee pinched the coppery fabric between his thumb and forefinger. "It feels…real. Not rubbery or kinky at all."

 

"You sound disappointed. I locked it. It's real, and hers to keep. Look, could you take her out, please? I can't change back with her inside, and I feel really stupid talking through the radio."

 

Dee eased his arms around the brunette and lifted her out. "You didn't find the others?"

 

The car's engine cut off. The chassis glinted liquidly, collapsed like an accordion into a rose pillar before morphing with a metallic sigh into SB. "I did, but a state trooper picked them up first." She read Dee's panicked expression and added, "Don't worry. Most people don't come this way unless they're drawn in somehow. And besides, the local patrollers are used to some seriously weird shit."

 

The brunette in Dee's arms yawned, eyes blinking. She tipped her head.

 

SB stood two feet away, rose-red and buck-naked, candy floss cornrows drifting in the gentle breeze, flaccid cock dangling to her knees. She flashed her diamond grin. "Why hullo there."

 

The brunette squeaked, latching herself around Dee's chest. Confusion clouded her brow. Her fingers tickled over his back, feeling yielding skin covering marble-hard muscle. She tilted her head up with exaggerated care.

 

"Please don't faint," Dee said, trying for his most disarming smile.

 

She fainted.

 

"Fuck."

 


 

 

SB lugged the water jugs over to the far side of the street, proffered two to Eurydice and Raspberry. The green and lavender girls tore open the bottle's plastic tops and guzzled. SB called across the road. "Hey, Unyx!"

 

Beneath the overpass, Ursula turned, black eye-mask flowing into place over her eyes. "Yeah?"

 

"C'mon over."

 

"'Kay."

 

SB unscrewed the top of the third bottle and knelt beside CeeCee. The amber woman lay on the pavement, slowly liquefying. "Are you going to be okay?" SB asked her.

 

"Not without a lot of nanomek—and I mean a lot—very soon." She reached up. "But some water will get me through for a little while. Thanks, honey." She filled out as she drank, her half-melted curves coalescing until she looked less like a runny butter sculpture and more like a world-record breaking, huge slice of creamy cheesecake molded into a big titty momma of rock and roll.

 

Unyx wobbled over, her candy coating of glossy black swirled with matte gray. "'Zup?"

 

SB passed her the last bottle. A few feet away, Raspberry and Eurydice chugged down the last of their water. They tossed the imploded plastic bottles over their shoulders into the fallow field behind them before belching in near unison and dissolving into giggles.

 

Unyx took a few sips and handed it back.

 

"Wait," said Raspberry, water spreading through her gel, restoring her to a healthy jiggle. "That's all you need? After all that badass kung fu magic shit?"

 

Unyx arched her eye-mask. "Nyx gets the water she needs from Ursula."

 

Eurydice wrinkled her nose. "Oh, ew."

 

Raspberry's amethyst eyes sparkled. "Wicked!"

 

"Huddle up, girls," said SB, "We gotta talk." Unyx hunkered down and CeeCee scooted close. "Listen," SB said, voice low, "I'm running awfully low on nanomek, enough to make me nervous." She hooked a thumb. "CeeCee's got one butt-cheek in the big freezer in the sky."

 

"Now that's just silly," CeeCee said. "It's true, but silly."

 

"Anybody else?" SB asked.

 

"I fragment awful fast," Eurydice replied, "I burn nanomek to stay coherent. I'm damn low."

 

"We're going gray," Unyx said, "that can't be good."

 

Raspberry sniffed the tails of her shirt. "I've never needed a hot beef injection more in my life."

 

"You're less than a day old," CeeCee insisted, "and you've been saying that every fifteen minutes since you were born. So what are we going to do?"

 

Raspberry blushed purple and looked across the street. Tomoe and Yves traded withering witticisms.

 

Eurydice shook her head. "We can't ask him. You don't know what he's been through."

 

"What if he…" Raspberry made a hollow fist and pumped up and down above her crotch.

 

"Where's the fun in that?" CeeCee protested.

 

Raspberry's blush deepened into a raging indigo. "I—we—that is…You know. Watch."

 

"Oh, honey." CeeCee patted the lavender girl on her mane of orchid petals. "That man's turned you into a blushing violet."

 

"Yves is out for the count," Unyx said. "He's been up over thirty-six hours, he's had the shit kicked out of him two, three times now, and he's running on empty calories, caffeine and adrenaline. He's only human."

 

SB pursed her lips, nodding. She stood up, scraping her hands together, a coppery one-piece dress settling over her firm lines and gentle curves. "Let me see what I can do about that."

 

"Besides," Eurydice said, watching SB swagger over to Yves and Tomoe, "we're going to need a lot. Like, a whole lot. I'm talking pints."

 

Unyx, CeeCee, Raspberry, and Eurydice all craned their necks, smooth and slow. Dee stood under the overpass across from Yves, a brunette coed in his arms, chestnut hair falling in ringlets into his face. He returned their burning gazes, oblivious.

 

"What?" he said.

 

Update 02/25/07


 

 

 

Yves' migraine fissured his thinking. "I'm sorry, Tomoe. What did you say?"

 

Tomoe held out the two pills again. "Little. Yellow. Different. Come on, it's a perfect straight line."

 

"Tomoe, look." Yves felt the mad desire to drill a hole in his skull; anything to relieve the pressure-pain. He forgot what he was going to say.

 

SB sauntered up, her usually tight one-piece dress flowing loose past her knees. "Hey, T, Yves. Wow, Yves, you look like shit."

 

Yves tried to smile, grateful for the rescue, but only affected a grimace. "Well, I feel like shit." He managed to put two thoughts together. "So at least there's symmetry." His knees began to buckle.

 

SB steadied him, her grip strong and cool on Yves' bare forearm. "Yves, you've got to take a break. You're dead on your feet." He lost what she said next to the miasma of migraine. SB's thumb slipped under the strap of his tan, sleeveless tee shirt, massaged a pressure point in the hollow of his collar bone. The pain and fatigue faded enough for him to focus. "…Ride me, Yves."

 

He found his balance. "What?"

 

"Welcome back," SB smirked. Her grip slid down his arm and she placed her hand in his, careful to avoid the gauze bandage on the pad of his thumb. "I said, 'Take a ride with me, Yves.' Back to SRU. There's something there that I want to give you." Tomoe coughed. SB glared. "What now?" Tomoe unsnapped the top of her purse and pulled out an unlabeled, glass mason jar filled with strawberry-red jam. SB's expression softened. "You knew? Of course you knew. And you're okay with it?"

 

Tomoe held out the mason jar. "Are you kidding? I've been watching this bit for weeks." SB took the jar with her free hand and Tomoe added, "Give the knight his sword. After all, you haven't had this good a candidate in forever, seems like."

 

SB took a step back and tugged on Yves arm. "C'mon, Yves. Eurydice and her pals are running on empty and looking at Dee like he was the Exxon Valdese. You don't want to be here for what's about to happen next."

 

Yves shook his head. "Nothing Dee does surprises me any more, not after the skank-bot gangbang. The world works different for him, that's all. I just need to figure out the rules." SB smiled and tugged again, and this time Yves followed her. "But I can always work out the rules later. Or from a minimum safe distance."

 

SB blew a kiss over Yves' shoulder. "See ya 'round, T."

 

"I thought she said she, uh, wanted to watch?" Yves asked, wondering, What the Hell have I gotten myself into? ["…it's not my fault…you were the one who decided to drop by and try and cheer me up…"] At least I can't blame Dee this time. ["…we're so lucky Dee chose you…"] Or can't I?

 

"She's watching," SB assured him, leading him around the slabs of concrete. "She was watching, she always will be watching. She's T, and I'm her cheeseburger."

 

"I'm just going to pretend I understood that," said Yves, "and not say anything."

 

"Good plan."

 

 


 

 

Eurydice waved Dee over. She burned a few nanomek muttering in ultrasound, too fast and high pitched for Dee to hear. "He's faking it, you know. His obliviousness, I mean. He always knows exactly what I want, even before I want it, and he teases and teases until I can't take any more." Dee ambled forward, his expression puzzled. "Get ready for the hardest foreplay of your lives, girls," Eurydice added.

 

CeeCee snorted back a laugh, then answered Eurydice by broadcasting on the same wavelength. "If it's an act, he deserves an Oscar. I know he's the love of your life, Eurydice, but when it comes to women Dee doesn't have the sense God gave a lemon." The brunette rocked in Dee's arms, a muzzy smile stealing over her face as her body settled against his. "Look, the Easy girl is wide awake and having a ball with your boyfriend and he hasn't even noticed."

 

"Sure he has. You don't know him like I do," Eurydice broadcast before calling out in an audible frequency. "Dee, put the Easy down, please." Dee ground to a halt halfway across the road, seemed to notice the damsel draped over him for the first time. He looked about, shrugged and turned back, loping across the street in his signature jaguar strut.

 

"And now he's making me watch him walk," Eurydice broadcast an ultrasonic sing-song.

 

"Why 'make'," Unyx wondered aloud. "Why would he even want to make you…Oh." CeeCee, Eurydice, and Raspberry, their surface tension spotting with liquid goose bumps, ogled Dee's backside as he closed in on a low, even concrete slab. "Why is everyone so obsessed with ass? First Nyx with Ursula's ass, now you all with Dee's ass. Although I admit that girl in Starbucks with the great…Oh." Dee bent over the slab. Unyx's eye-mask widened as her voice grew choppy and small. "okay — impressive." Dee stretched to lay the brunette out on the slab. "most — impressive."

 

Dee nudged the brunette into a comfortable position, unheeding how she trembled and squirmed at his touch. Eurydice narrowed her eyes. "Now he's showing me his kudzu in action, trying to make me jealous." Her core achieved a steady simmer.

 

Raspberry edged away from the radiant green girl. "Good thing it's not working, huh?"

 

"I still don't buy it," CeeCee insisted, but Eurydice could hear the amber woman panting. "He can't be doing it on purpose. He just can't." Dee steamrolled toward them. "No one's that…devious."

 

Dee flipped the hair away from his eyes, cocking his head to the side. "What's going on, guys? CeeCee? You okay?" CeeCee only nodded. Dee tapped a toe on the remaining bottle. Water spilt over the black lip print on the bottle's mouth. "Hey, is anyone going to drink that?"

 

Eurydice mopped her forehead. "I—I don't think so. Why?"

 

Dee reached for the bottle but Raspberry snatched it up and slugged some down in the blink of an eye. "Sorry," she gasped, wiping her lip with the back of her hand. "Needed one last sip. Here ya go, stud muffin. Thirsty?"

 

"No problem." Dee took the bottle from her. "Thanks. I'm not thirsty, just itchy. Like beach sand in the crack of your ass, but a hundred times worse."

 

"Dee, listen." Eurydice rose up to her knees, fidgeting.

 

"Just a second, honey," Dee said, and upended the bottle over his forehead. He let water pour out in three long, lazy glug noises before righting the bottle. The clear liquid ran through his hair and down his face. Soon the neck of his white muscle shirt was soaked.

 

Eurydice stared as the tee shirt material stuck translucent to the toned contours of Dee's pectorals and his small chocolate brown nipples. Eurydice's legs softened and merged into a single, curvy wedge. Water droplets falling from Dee's hair dribbled onto her face. "Uh, D—Dee?"

 

"Oh, shit, sorry." Dee took a step back, rivulets encircling his head like a melting crown. He peeled off his shirt with his free hand, and deadpanned, "Didn't mean to get you wet."

 

Dee turned and stalked away, pouring a few glugs of water down his back till it glistened. CeeCee drew herself up, swearing, "That son of a b—" but Dee bent over to pull off his sweat pants and her lips glued themselves together. She broadcast in a burbling, babbling ultrasound: "He is. He really, really is. Please, Eurydice, let me fuck the inscrutability off that man's face. Please."

 

Dee stood across the road, and poured more water into his hair. "That should be me," Eurydice sighed. Dee poured water over his arms. Eurydice caressed her throat, touched the upper swell of her breast. "That should be me." Dee emptied the last of the water on his legs and rubbed himself down, his muscular back bunching and flexing with each twist and stroke. "That really should be me," Eurydice groaned, her shaky hands liquefied into nectarous waves coursing down her tummy and into her sopping sex.

 

Raspberry coughed. "Well, tough shit, Sherlock." She slapped her hand onto the pavement. The water pooling at Dee's feet rippled, zigzagging across and streaming into Raspberry's splayed fingers in an army of clear, wriggling pollywogs. "That was me."

 

"that — last — drink — you — spat — nanomek?" Unyx accused.

 

"Spit? Me? Never." The last of the pollywogs leaped into her jellied fingers. "But I couldn't help a little backwash, now, could I… I…" The re-remembrances hit her and she toppled backward. "Oh fuck, he's everywhere and so solid and strong and, oh, shit, I'm cumming, I'm cumming!" She writhed in a violet puddle on the road, the fabric of Yves' shirt the only thing holding her together. "I could die, I could die now and it'd feel so good I wouldn't fucking care, I could die—"

 

"Good." Eurydice crept toward Raspberry on all fours, green with envy, lust, and gallons of melting Jell-O. "Because I am gunna kill you."

 


 

 

Tomoe watched SB drag a bemused Yves down the road. Tomoe had foreseen this moment few dozen times already, had relived this moment a few million times if she included the future. These next few days were among of her very favorites, after all, and she experienced them as often as she could. "Well," she said, snapping her purse shut, "what now?"

 

The brunette stirred on the level concrete slab, a copper-and-silk clad offering on an altar to some Pulp Fiction carnal god.

 

"Oh, right." Tomoe traipsed through the minefield of broken masonry, wary of breaking off a shoe heel. She brushed off the top of the slab and sat by the brunette's head. "Oh, hey!" Tomoe said, making the brunette wince and blink. "Jo Echo, right?"

 

"How did…Do I know you?" The brunette sounded hoarse and parched.

 

"Nah." Tomoe shrugged one shoulder. "I've watched you before." The brunette, Jo, furrowed her brow. Tomoe thought fast. "Seen you play volleyball, I mean. You've got a great, uh, serve?"

 

Jo closed her eyes, groaning. "Whatever."

 

"What do you remember? How are you feeling?"

 

"Little," Jo said, shading her eyes. "Terrible. I keep trying to sleep, but my heart is pounding, my head is pounding, but worst of all my…" She blushed, mumbling, "Sore. Really sore. What did I do last night? Who did I do?" Her blush burned fire-engine red. "And why do I want to do it all over again? Christ, why am I telling this to you? Listen, lady, you got any aspirin?"

 

Tomoe shook her head. "No aspirin, sorry. Sleepy?" Jo gave Tomoe a curt nod, grating her head on the concrete. Tomoe popped open her purse and presented Jo with a SRU-labeled, trial size pill bottle. "I've got some Endymizine, though. Just one pill and you sleep so good you never want to wake up." She shook the bottle, making it rattle. "Two pills and…Oh, you want some? For you? Five dollar." Tomoe's dark eyes glittered above an inscrutable smile.

 

"Um." Jo patted down her coppery one-piece dress. "This thing doesn't have any pockets. I don't have any money."

 

Tomoe stared. She dropped the SRU bottle back into her purse. A blue and white plastic bottle clicked onto the concrete beside Jo's ear. "Here. Have some Advil." She stiffened. "Free of charge."

 

Jo propped herself up. "But…"

 

"Forget it!" Tomoe threw her hands in the air as she marched away, not looking back. "You ruined it."

 

 

Update 02/26/07

 


 

 

 

The ivy-choked kitchen window of the Epsilon Zeta sorority house slivered the early afternoon sunlight. Lancets of light tracked over the checker-tiled floor. Shimmering ovals glanced off the brushed aluminum of the industrial-sized refrigerator. A sickle-smile spotlight warmed the residue of cheesecake pudding and raspberry Jell-O caked on the cock of the husky stock boy hogtied to the marble-topped kitchen cart. He shuffled his legs but his skewed smock got in the way, the underwear and workpants bunched around his knees restricted movement. The sugary gunk soaked into his pubic hair, trickled down his balls and greased his taint. He had never felt more befouled in his life.

 

So why the Hell was his dick pointing straight at the ceiling?

 

The swinging kitchen door bumped open. A cute girl in a tight, white spandex tee-shirt and pink hot pants stood in the frame. "Relax," the girl said, "she's not back yet. Something's happened to her."

 

None of the Easies had talked to him before except to relay messages, messages from her. "What do you mean?"

 

The cute girl scuttled over. The stock boy cringed but the girl only stepped behind him, wrestling with the twine binding his hands to the kitchen cart. She smelled like a gym locker. "What's your name, kid?"

 

None of the Easies had acted this alert before, either. A little hope bubbled up. "Eddie. What's going on?"

 

"We don't know," the Easy girl explained, tried to unknot the twine without cutting into his wrists. "But she's real low on nova-whatsis. Whatever it is she uses to control us. Do you know what that is, Eddie?"

 

His eyes flicked to the closed tin of SRU thickener, half-hidden on the kitchen counter in a cluster of torn boxes of dessert mix. "Not exactly. So, are you guys okay? Free, whatever?"

 

"Not exactly," she echoed. "I still can't leave the house. I don't think any of us can. It feels like my feet get glued to the floor. And I can still hear her, sort of, like really loud music but from next door, you know? It's been like this for a while now."

 

"Really? Why hasn't anyone come in here, then? It's been hours. Aren't you guys hungry?"

 

The cute girl paused. "Starved." She went back to work, pulling one knot lose. "Listen, I'm real sorry no one's come to get you yet. But we've got you now, Eddie."

 

Eddie got wary. "I heard the doorbell ring. Around 10:30? Were you free then? What was that about?"

 

The door bumped open again and another Easy marched in, licking her fingers. This one wore red leather pants and a black, tasseled jacket. Her thick mane of strawberry-blonde curls exploded out of a FedEx cap perched atop her head.

 

"Dunno," said the girl in the pink hot pants. A second knot came undone. "Must've been a wrong number." She leaned over to stage whisper at the other girl, the front of her tee shirt bussing the top of Eddie's head. "This is Eddie."

 

"O-kay," Eddie drawled. Something was up. Other than his dick. Oh, Jesus, his dick. "Um, would you mind pulling up my pants?" He blushed. "Or just moving the smock? Something?"

 

The girl in the FedEx hat popped a finger out of her mouth. "Now, why would we want to do that?" She sashayed over and sat on Eddie's knees. He could hear the scrunch of her leather pants. She wore no shirt under the jacket, just a racy, red, lacy bra. Tips of black felt gloves poked out from a jacket pocket. "What'cha got there, Eddie?" She twirled her slick finger around his pubic hair and slid a dollop of runny glop between her lips. "Well, phooey. Nothing but goo girl cum. We've eaten plenty of that. We're looking for something else."

 

Eddie tried to shy away, but with the Easy girl in the pink hot pants pushing her tits on his head and the girl in the FedEx hat squeezing his legs between her leather-wrapped thighs, there was no where to go. There's a certain freedom, Eddie decided, in being totally screwed. "I thought you said she didn't control you any more."

 

The girl in the pink hot pants sat behind him and untied the rest of the twine. "She doesn't." His hands fell to the floor, painfully numb. The girl's hands crept underneath his leaden arms. "She can't tell us what to do, not exactly, until she gets more nova-whatsis. So we've been talking. All of us. And as far as we know, there's just one source." Her fingers wrapped around his honey-basted cock and her lips pressed to his ear. "And that's you, Eddie."

 

The girl in the FedEx hat sitting on his knees reached into her jacket and pulled one red bra strap down her shoulder. "We like being free, Eddie." She grabbed one of his hands and brought it against her breast, encouraging his fingers to paw beneath the loose lingerie. Her flesh felt warm and silken. He had not felt a girl up since high school. How could he resist? "Mm, although I don't think we're really free. We still share her instincts, impulses." She cupped his chin. "Appetites."

 

The hands around his goo-girl lubricated dick began to pump, slow and lazy. Eddie felt the delicious sting of precum. "Well, whatever we are, we really…" Pump-up-and-squeeze "…really…" Pump-down-and-swirl "…like it."

 

Eddie came in spurts, not even fully erect. The precum sting just got sweeter and sweeter until his cock wept globs of cum. She held his dick, squeezing and kneading. The girl in the FedEx hat sat on his knees, grinning like the Chesire Cat, watching his cum ooze into the other girl's knuckles. She reached into her jacket pocket and snuck out the gloves. They slid onto her hands with a silky sigh.

 

His dick softened a bit. The girl in the pink hot pants stroked up and squeezed, making his whole body twitch. The girl in the FedEx hat reached down, and now there were four hands, two bare, two wrapped in cool black felt, kneading his cock into tingling over-stimulation. The gloved fingers were super-smooth when they glided down, became bristles against his cock when they wiggled up. The bare fingers were hot and slippy. In the shock of afterglow, his dick hardened like ironwood. "Wa—wait."

 

The two girls glanced at each other over Eddie's head. "Nah," they chorused, and returned to pumping. Eddie's jism and the glistening goo girl cum were worked into froth by the action of the fabric and fingers against his skin.

 

Eddie arched his back and kicked but the combined weight of the two girls was just too much after being bound and bent over for hours. "Wait!" Each squeeze and curl of their fingers made him jolt and judder.

 

"We're tired of waiting, Eddie," the FedEx girl whined, sliming his dick with his own cum. "We want to be free. We need to be free. So we need you to be bone dry."

 

"Besides," the cute girl in the pink hot pants whispered into his ear. Their pumping grew fervid and quick. The froth worked itself into the fabric of the gloves. The two girls fisted him, harder and faster. "Want to know what her last command was before she let us go?"

 

Eddie could only whimper, awful afterglow orgasm building.

 

The kitchen door flung open. A wild-eyed, half naked man wearing nothing but a ragged, FedEx delivery uniform shirt fell into the room. Many slender hands shot out of the doorway behind him, grabbing up his ankles, calves, thighs and ass. He and Eddie's eyes met. He gurgled, "Run, run," before he was hauled back through the door and out of sight.

 

The girl in the FedEx hat giggled, scooted down and bent close, watching captivated as she and the other Easy beat Eddie off to a searing second orgasm. Little pearls of cum splattered her chin. They kept working him over until his cum ran clear and thin as water before they let go. Eddie felt the coil burning in his balls and abdomen unwind at last.

 

Then the girl in the FedEx hat ran froth-matted, gloved fingers over her lips, cooed, "'Frenzy,' she said," and deep-throated him.

 

 

Update 02/28/07

 


 

 

 

Eurydice loomed over the convulsing Raspberry. Green honey drizzled down Eurydice's chin onto the lavender girl's tummy. Raspberry's bellybutton ranneth over and a steaming emerald flood washed down the delta of her sex. She squealed, toes wriggling. She held up a trembling hand. "Wait, wait. Eurydice, wait!"

 

Eurydice frowned down. "What?"

 

Raspberry's eyes rolled back. A few wayward pollywogs found her, swam into her, fed her their memories. Raspberry's hand dropped down to her labia sleek with green and purple nectar. "I finally got Dee by the balls." She gulped. "Holy shit, they're ginormous and so full—Jeebus, there's no way you could ever fuck all this cum out of him yourself, Eurydice. Share the wealth, ya greedy twat."

 

Eurydice boggled, unbelieving, before grinning a mouthful of knives. She swung about, locked her legs over Raspberry's head. "Oh, I'll show you a greedy twat alright." Eurydice's face hovered over Raspbery's cleft. Her breath burned hot enough to melt the orchid petals covering the lavender girl's mons into a slurry of raspberry wine. Eurydice's jellied dreadlocks wound tight around Raspberry's thighs. "But first I feel like making some soup." She mashed her face and sex down. Green and purple slithered together in a pneumatic 69.

 

"Well, that's one way to make a raspberry lime rickey," CeeCee said.

 

"So, Eurydice." Dee trotted over, skin glistening wet. "What did you wa–ha–huh?" Raspberry mewled, wrapped her arms around Eurydice's waist, tongue stabbing deep. "Uh, guys? Hey, guys?"

 

Eurydice threw her head back, gasping. Her teeth flashed with pomegranate nectar. "You made her cum first, bright boy. So fair's fair. And when I'm through with her." Eurydice spread Raspberry's sex between two fingers and kissed the lavender, clitoral hood into her mouth. "You're next."

 

"CeeCee," Dee said, stepping over to the kneeling amber woman so that his bare crotch was level with her face, his dick slowly engorging, making her cockeyed. "What's up?"

 

CeeCee's lips squirmed, her jaw trembled, as she shook her head, hissing. "You God damned, teasing motherfu—" She cut herself short, held up both hands, and the air wooshed out of her. She took a cleansing breath, then looked up at Dee, canary-yellow diamond eyes cool and sparkling. "Face it, honey. You've been upstaged. Topping those two tarts is going to take some teamwork. And nanomek."

 

"Dee." Unyx paced. "no – games – need – nanomek – you're – friends. " She wrung her hands. "you – Ursula – such – friends – such – trust – but – can't – we – can't. " Her eye-mask dwindled until only pitch black contacts remained. "Dee," Ursula mumbled, tearing up, "what are we going to do?"

 

Dee brushed a tear away from Ursula's cheek, staining his thumb with black ink. "I'll do what I have to do." He looked down at his hands, then his crotch, and shrugged. "Got a bucket?"

 

CeeCee and Eurydice both cried, "What?" while Raspberry, smothered in limeade pussy, only managed a "Wff?"

 

Eurydice sat up. "Oh, no." Her juicy green ass pivoted over Raspberry's face, slicker than a quart of astroglide. Raspberry groaned in depraved delight, her arms falling limp as she just lay there, wallowing in the face-fucking. "No, way." Eurydice's gel-flesh tits and tummy separated from Raspberry's surface in a syrupy, slurping wave. She wore a thick, vertical candy stripe of raspberry frosting from her chin to her belly. "If you think we're going to just sit here," Eurydice muttered, rocking, "and watch you play with that glorious cock of Mine while you fill a fucking, mm, b–bucket, with all that, oh, God, all that c–cum…"

 

CeeCee's poker face broke into awe. She rolled up onto her feet, a fountain of creamy yellow sherbet. "You could really fill a bucket?"

 

Raspberry squeezed her head out from between the green girl's ass-cheeks. She wore an avocado facial mask of lime goo girl cum. "Shit on a stick, CeeCee," Raspberry burbled. "Wait till ya feel what that man's got to offer, we're gunna need a fucking bucket brigade."

 

"Shut up, you two," Eurydice demanded, rising, her eyes glowing, her head so wreathed in vapor her she seemed aflame in jade. "Dee, if you think you can tease us like that." She advanced on Dee, fuming. "In fact, if you keep teasing us just one more second, you've got another thing cumming." The sheaves of her quivering hair tickled his chin. "Got that?"

 

The sultry vapor enveloped him, its citrus-and-sex aroma stronger than he ever remembered. "Um." Dee grew hard in seconds. "Uh-oh."

 

Eurydice bowed her head, eyes rolling down, her movements liquid and slow. "Alright. That's it." She stepped aside. "Girls, it's time."

 

Dee backpedaled, arms raised. "But…"

 

Raspberry rocketed upright, her borrowed overshirt saturated with psychedelic purple and green hues. "Sweeeet." She swaggered over and grabbed Dee's left elbow.

 

Dee protested. "I didn't…"

 

"I'll try anything once," CeeCee said, surging forward and grabbing Dee's right wrist. "Twice if I like it." She glanced down at his thick prick. "Three times to make sure."

 

"But it wasn't on purpose," Dee insisted. "It wasn't my fault."

 

"No," Eurydice said, stepping behind him, planting her hands on his back. "It was Mine. Now march. God, Dee, even your back is rock hard. This is gunna be the best fuck you've ever had."

 

The three girls pushed and pulled him forward. Ursula dropped back, inky contacts spilling out into the whites of her eyes, then spreading over her face in a raccoon's mask. "guys – wait – scared – Dee – looks – scared."

 

Eurydice relented, grinning in reverie. "It's bestest when he looks scared." The three meliae lead him off road. "And he's loving it. C'mon, Unyx. You don't want to miss this."

 

Unyx pussyfooted after them. "Eurydice – nanomek – need – so – much – but – how – um – what – are – you – doing?"

 

"What I do best," she said, pushing Dee past the copse of fallen trees and into the fallow field of wild grass beyond. "I'm going to fuck Dee." She stood on tiptoe to leer over Dee's shoulder at CeeCee and Raspberry. "We're going to fuck Dee." She glanced back, purring, "and then we're going to fuck the ever living shit out of you."

 

 

Update 03/02/07

 


 

 

 

SB led Yves round the bend. The road turned treacherous under Yves' unsure feet. "Easy," SB said, turning about to steady him, her hand finding its way behind his neck. "What's your last name, Yves?" Her tone was calm and casual. Her fingers soothed the aching tendons in his nape.

 

"Valiancourt." Yves found his balance.

 

SB kept rubbing. "Quebecois?"

 

"My father, yes." Yves' eyelids fluttered. "Mom's Minnesotan."

 

"Swedish." SB's other hand joined the first, thumbs massaging beneath Yves' ears. "Götalander."

 

"Yeah. That was my grandmother's name: Göta." Yves peeked. "How did you know?"

 

"Dunno." SB's eyes roved over Yves' spiky blond hair, ice-blue eyes, and tall, whipcord frame. "Lucky guess."

 

The pressure point massage felt too delicious. He mumbled, "Strong."

 

SB rubbed Yves' neck for a while before asking, in the same conversational tone as her other questions, "Have you ever hit on Dee?"

 

"Yeah," Yves chuckled, eyes closed. "Once. He didn't notice." He snapped awake. "Ohshit."

 

SB draped her arms down onto Yves' shoulders, lips pursed. "Was that supposed to be secret?"

 

"Not exactly. I mean, I even told Dee later." He glowered. "Just don't tell Ursula. Unyx. Whoever she is, I'd never hear the end of it."

 

"So you're attracted to him?"

 

"No. Well, then, yes, obviously. But that was when he first moved in and no one could figure him out." Yves shrugged. "After I knew he was straight, I wasn't interested. If it's not going to happen, it's not going to happen."

 

"Just like that, huh?" SB toyed with the tag on Yves' tee shirt. "You intellectualize that much?"

 

"It's not like that. I'm an existential monogamist."

 

SB cocked her head. "What the heck does that mean?"

 

Yves sighed, gearing up for a lecture. "Sex is just something that happens between two people." SB looked at him, puzzled. He opened his mouth to explain.

 

She kissed him. Her kiss was soft, lips plush but only slightly parted. The darting tip of her tongue touched his, salty sweet and tart, a sumptuous slice of strawberry gently placed in his mouth. She stepped back, hands on hips. "Well. Did something happen?"

 

Yves rolled the lingering mix of flavors around in his mouth with his tongue. "You mean you couldn't tell?" He glanced down. "The hem of your dress gives you away. Nice knees."

 

SB smirked and held up the mason jar in one hand. "What is that stuff, anyway?" Yves asked. "And please don't tell me where you were keeping it."

 

"It's for you." The jelly sloshed in the jar.

 

"I don't need to change, and I don't have five dollars."

 

"True, true. But this isn't for sale. It's mine to give. And I give it to you." She stood there, tapping the jar against her chin.

 

"All right, then." Magical thinking, Yves reminded himself. Fairy tale logic. "I trust you and accept your gift." She only tapped the jar. "So what do we do now?"

 

"We get the fuck out of here." Her smirk broadened. "Can you drive stick?"

 

"Cute."

 

"Cute, huh?" She squat on her haunches, palms flat against the road, and arched a brow at him. "Vroom, vroom." She slid her legs out and back. Her gel-flesh moiled, shone, and reshaped.

 

Yves stared. "That's, uh…" SB's engine growled to life. Yves felt road rumble through the rubber soles of his sneakers. "That's, uh, definitely not a Mini Cooper."

 

The rose red racer was low-slung and all hood, its bulging, round headlights and outthrust grill unmistakable. "The Coop's Tomoe's car," said the roofless Aston Martin coupe, its voice drifting up from the gearbox. "This is mine."

 

Yves circled the speedster, running his hand over the swells above the rear tires, expecting the give of camouflaged gel-flesh, but finding cold, polished, hard alloy. The engine noise dropped to a purr. "Late Fifties?" Yves guessed. "Mark III?"

 

"Please." The SB-gearbox voice managed to sound sardonic. "Mark III's are for James Bond wannabe pussies. I'm a D-B-fucking-3. Placed at les 24 Heures du Mans, thank you very fuckin' much." Yves completed his second, unbelieving circuit around the car, and it added, "So are you going to get in and drive me or am I going to have to start making Hasselhoff jokes?"

 

Yves slid into the driver's seat, not bothering to open the door of the roofless speedster. Everything inside the cabin was tinted in countless shades of red or diamond white. The gearbox's stick ended in a thick, red-leather bulb. "Jesus." Yves checked she was in neutral and revved the engine. "J-e-e-z-u-s-s-s," he stuttered as the cabin throbbed with power. The leather seat was as soft as sin and the vibrations from the engine relaxed his muscles to puddles. He could not decide whether he had hopped onto a rocket or crawled into a womb.

 

SB's voice reverberated all around him. "No need to be gentle, boy."

 

Yves slammed his hand around the stick. The engine let lose a throaty groan. He threw her into first gear. They screamed down the road.

 

"Jesus!"

 

Look.

I understand too little too late.

I realize there are things you say and do,

You can never take back.

But what would you be if you didn't even try.

You have to try.

So after a lot of thought,

I'd like to reconsider.

Please…

If it's not too late,

Make it a…cheeseburger

 

—Lyle Lovett, Here I Am

 

Apologia

 

A slender, trembling hand rises up to pull on the chain dangling down from the tiffany lamp and light floods into the sterile white plain. Tomoe sits up in the maroon recliner chair, brushing hair from her sweaty face. Her dark eyes are glassy but grow more angry by the second. She throws her head back, pounding the armrests with her fists and drubbing the footrest with the balls of her feet.

 

"You SON of a BITCH!"

 

Her adorable tantrum simmers down. "Well," she says, adjusting her seat. Her rosy panties bear a small but slowly spreading patch of dark. "It seems that Oblimo, in his infinite wisdom, ran out of fucking room in the chapter that was supposed to be full of fucking." She narrows her eyes. "Fucker." She looks up. "Don't apologize. Write moar!" Her grin is sly and a touch cruel. "Or do you want the dreams again?"

 

She looks out at you. "It's okay, folks. I'll keep him writing." Her arms fold above her breasts. "I have my ways."

 

 

 

Please post !

 

 

Comments (0)

You don't have permission to comment on this page.