Dr Hildegard Fotzenficker had had a hard couple of weeks. “Fucking overagers, fucking Undesirables, fucking escapees – fuck the whole fucking lot of them!” she grumbled to herself, as she sat at her large oak desk in her office at the Princess Asshole Hospice. “To ruin that whole funeral party – and to force me to implement Emergency Measure Number Six – ungrateful fucking fool! He could have gone in the ecstasy of pleasure if he had been more co-operative. As it is, he died in pain, in a filthy smear of blood on the cold floor. Stupid wretch…”
To make matters worse, now the Hospice was facing an investigation by the CQC (Cunt Quality Commission). “Fucking investigation…” muttered Hildegard. “They’d do better to investigate how that fucking Undesirable got into the country in the first place… But they won’t, will they, because they’re all namby-pamby fucking woke PC do-gooders… Shit, what’s become of the Enlightenment?!”
~
Chad Halloway had not been having a good couple of weeks either – but he lacked Hildegard’s unassailable arrogance. Since that unfortunate day at the hospice, he had not been allowed back to the RAF – also pending investigation. He was feeling scared, humiliated, and – quite unusually for him – intermittently remorseful. Suspension from college had forced him to spend more time with himself than he had ever enjoyed doing. His habit was usually to buttress his fragile self-esteem by bullying others; but now, without that option open to him, he was finding his congenital anger turned inwards – and it was not a pleasant experience. “Why the fuck,” he said to himself, “do I always get things wrong? Why do I always fuck up? Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!” he shouted into the middle-distance of his North Kuntington bedsit. But he knew no one was listening.
All these dispiriting thoughts passed through Chad’s mind, as he sat facing the wrong way on the toilet seat, stroking his eight and a half inches. He had not had a fuck in a fortnight. Not that he couldn’t have gone out and picked someone up: picking up girls in London was never difficult, and – this being a highly Enlightened city – they were almost always happy to be discarded immediately afterwards. But this time, something was different – and Chad just didn’t know why. For as he sat, massaging his throbbing glans with the thumb and two fingers of one hand, palm wrapped around the thick shaft, whilst stroking his balls with the other hand, his mind was filled with images not merely of “generic cunt” (as he usually called it) – but of one person in particular. He closed his eyes, better to feel the boiling pleasure rising through this stiff shaft – and into that strange dark sparkly space behind his eyelids there swam, unbidden, images of a glistening ebony pussy, its lips gently parting to reveal the pink haven inside; a pair of luscious tits, their wide brown areolas pierced with shining silver barbells; that head of wild loose afro hair, which jiggled as its owner bounced up and down on his shaft; but, more than anything, that gorgeous face – dark but luminescent, delicate yet luscious, those full wipe lips smiling, pouting, parting, panting…
“Oh fuck,” groaned Chad, as his cock exploded. He watched each successive jet of semen squirt downwards, splash, and suspend itself on contact with cold water – thick, gloopy, off-white. By habit he silently counted “one, two, three, four… five… six…” – the physical gratification of each exquisite pulse of his shaft briefly effacing, but not banishing, the pain he felt in his heart. “How fucking pathetic you are, Chad Halloway…” he muttered, as his pleasure subsided. “If you were able to be just a bit less of a dickhead you might now be fucking her hot pussy instead of wanking on the bog…”
Chad heard an envelope drop through his letterbox. “Oh shit: another summons, another interrogation,” he groaned as, wiping his cock clean, he flushed away the whirlpool mixture of toilet-paper and semen. “What more do they expect me to say? I’ve said it all: I was behaving like a shit, I always behave like a shit… Just fucking expel me, if that’s what you want!” He thought for a moment, then he added despondently, “After all, no one will fucking miss me…”
But it was not another summons from the RAF. It was a short hand-written note:
Dear Mr Halloway,
I was very impressed with you when you visited us the other day. I would like to meet you. Please could you come for an audition on Tuesday 1st November at 10.00 a.m.
Kind regards,
Dr Hildegard Fotzenficker
Director
Princess Asshole Hospice
567B Oxfuck Street, Marble Arse, London
“Fuck!” exclaimed Chad.
~
Monday, 31st October, 2050
Dear Mommy,
Claire says hello.
“‘Claire says hello’? Is that all you’re gonna fucking say?” complained Claire. She was dressed in a flowing see-through red-and-black lace dress with a cape, and wearing a set of false fangs in her mouth.
“Well, what the fuck do you expect me to say? ‘Claire, who is passionately in love with me, and wants to bear your grandchildren, craves your permission for my hand in marriage’? Do you want my dad to come down here and kill us both?!”
“Oh, okay, never mind, ‘says hello’ is probably safer,” admitted Claire, as she applied deep red lipstick to her lips. “Oh fuck, I keep getting lipstick on my fangs.”
Alison continued:
Claire says hello. We get on so well, she’s pretty much moved into my room with me now. It’s means we can fuck each other as much as we want, without having to go through the hassle of walking down the corridor to each other’s rooms!
“Ha ha! Fucking liar!” laughed Claire, reaching around to squeeze Alison’s tits affectionately.
“No, no. I never lie to my Mommy. It’s just… I don’t have to tell her everything all at once, do I? And besides, what would your mom and dad say if you told them you’d fallen in love?”
“Probably fucking kill me… But hey, it’s getting late – you’d better get your habit on, we gotta go!”
Anyway, I’ll pause now, as we’re running late. Sorry! Tonight is Hallowe’en, and Darren and Joe are organising a fancy-dress party. I’m going as a nun, and Claire is going as a vampire.
I’ll finish this tomorrow – cunty-promise!
Al
~
It was All Saints Day, and Hildegard Fotzenficker sat at her desk, dressed in her lab coat, trawling through Cunt Quality Commission Health and Safety Protocol Numbers 69B-81C (“Consent for Culling Undesirables [fuckless]”, version 3.a) – and swearing loudly to herself. “Fucking bureaucrats!” she cursed. “Do they have any idea what it’s like running an operation like this?! Why do I have to gain ‘consent’ to cull an Undesirable: they’re fucking Undesirable, aren’t they?!”
Happily, she was interrupted by a knock, and the office door opening. “He’s here, Doctor,” said Nurse Datchet – who was dressed today not as a nurse but as a central European farm girl, wearing a red-and-white lace-edged dirndl which squeezed her large tits together, her nipples just visible through the lace, and her hair in two long side braids which dangled down her chest.
“Bring him in, Dolores!” called Hildegard, with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Into the room, escorted by Dolores Datchet, walked a rather nervous Chad Halloway.
“Ah, Mister Halloway!” Hildegard put on her best smile. “I am very pleased to see you again. Eat my cunt.”
There were very few people in life Chad had ever been intimidated by – but even he was somewhat anxious about being summoned to the office of a woman who had recently killed the father of a fellow-student in cold blood. “Suck my cock, ma’am. Uh, let me say at the outset, Doctor, how very sorry I am for my behaviour here the other day.” There were, in point of fact, very few people Chad had ever apologised to in his life before – but, despite his best efforts at convincing himself otherwise, he knew he had behaved like a shit.
“Ach, don’t worry about that. A minor matter. No, Chad, I have asked you to come because I was very impressed with you the other day. Very impressed indeed.” Hildegard got up, walked around to Chad, and groped his crotch. “Eight inches?” she asked.
“Uh, well, eight and a half on a good day, ma’am,” replied Chad, regaining some of his customary swagger as his cock swelled. Meanwhile, Dolores walked over to Hildegard’s desk and sat on top of it, pulling her skirt up just enough to display her cunt, which was partly shaven, but topped by a neatly trimmed red-brown bush.
“Now, I gather,” continued Hildegard, “that you may be in the process of being expelled from the RAF – pending investigation? It appears that the Academy has some objection to students being gratuitously violent…?
“Uh, yes, ma’am,” replied Chad, chastened – but also somewhat distracted by the sight of Nurse Datchet’s pussy peeping out from underneath her dirndl. “But I can explain it all, I promise you, it wasn’t my fault, I –”
“I am not interested, Chad,” interrupted Hildegard. “Take your trousers off.”
“Ma’am?”
“You heard me. Now.”
Chad did as he was told. His cock, thanks in no small part to the nurse’s ongoing gynaecological tease, stood erect, thick and strong – eight and half inches of hot, beautiful, throbbing meat poking proudly from his tall, handsome, muscular body. Both Hildegard and Nurse Datchet beamed in admiration.
“We are always looking for good specimens of meat here,” said Hildegard, reaching forward to stroke Chad’s cock, feeling it twitch in her palm. “As you may have heard me say, only the best physical types are suitable to be… a Final Fucker.” She smiled encouragingly.
Despite his trepidation, Chad suddenly felt flattered, and valued – and it was a nice feeling. “You mean I… Well, that would be an honour, ma’am! But surely you would want me to finish my NDF first?”
“Ach, what are pieces of paper to a true fucker?” said Hildegard, as she walked back behind her desk and sat down. No, I just need to see that you have what it takes. Fucking is a vocation: it is not something you can learn from books. I would like to offer you an apprenticeship here – to be reviewed in, say, six months. You see, to be a good Hospice Fucker, apart from having the right physical attributes – and you clearly have those – you have to have the right attitude, firstly to fucking, and secondly… to death. We are dealing with very important life-and-death matters here at Princess Asshole.”
“Uh… ma’am?” Despite his excitement, Chad was finding Hildegard a bit hard to follow. His attention was, frankly, distracted by Nurse Datchet, who had now hawked a large gob of saliva onto her exposed clit and was slowly rubbing it in, whilst whispering to herself in a high-pitched squeaky voice: “Ooh, pwetty cunt; pway wiv pwetty cunty, nursey-nursey…”
“You see,” Hildegard continued, “while the RAF claims to train students in Pleasure, it has a limited understanding of the word. Here at Princess Asshole we deal with people at the end of their lives, when social norms matter little any more. And we find that different people have very different ideas of Pleasure – some of them involving pain, humiliation, shame. We have to cater to all these manifestations. Last week we arranged the Final Fuck of a woman who wanted to die with her head forced down a toilet bowl and five men pissing on her head. The week before, there was a man who wanted to have his cock sucked by a vampiress while two others drank his blood. Would you deny any of these people their final wishes?” Hildegard’s eyes glinted with perverse delight.
Chad was beginning to feel rather uncomfortable. He was not much interested in sucking blood or pissing on people’s heads, and was finding Hildegard’s enthusiasm for such matters a bit unnerving. But Nurse Datchet’s pussy was very tempting – especially as she was now slowly fucking it with two slender fingers, whilst continuing to giggle and squeak, “Cunty-cunty, pwetty cunty; wooky sticky fingahs in me cunty-cunty…” Chad’s cock was throbbing desperately, and a thin strand of pre-cum dangled from his glans; but he was trying to be on best behaviour, and dared not touch. Indeed, he forced himself to tear his gaze away from the nurse’s crotch, look Hildegard in the face, and answer her question with a firm “No, ma’am, of course not.”
Hildegard seemed to be getting into her stride, and her voice was rising in pitch. “And then there is the whole business of culling – or shall we say, killing? Have you ever killed a man, Chad? Have you ever tried to?”
Chad gulped. His heart began to beat rather fast and, continuing to avert his eyes from Nurse Datchet’s pussy, his cock started to droop. “Ma’am, I have never killed a man before, no – but of course, if I were to have the privilege of working in a hospice such as yours, I would rise to the challenge, I’m sure. I mean, the Enlightenment depends upon culling the old and unfuckable, doesn’t it? And, as you said the other day, no one ever objects… except…” Chad’s sentence faded away, as his eyes were again drawn magnetically to Nurse Datchet, who was now sliding three fingers in and out of her shining cunt and whimpering under her breath, “Oooooh, fwee fingahs in vere now, pwetty cunty, vat’s so good, so fucky good…”
“Ah yes,” said Hildegard. “And there’s the rub, isn’t it? Because we do ever so occasionally have an Undesirable who hasn’t accepted Enlightenment wisdom, and who insists upon clinging onto his own worthless life, even if he is old and ugly. Would you be willing to cull someone who wasn’t being entirely… co-operative?”
“What, you mean, like happened that day?” said Chad, tearing his eyes away from Dolores Datchet’s crotch.
“Ach, do not jump to conclusions, Chad,” replied Hildegard, wagging her finger in admonition. “We too are ‘under investigation’, you know.” Nurse Datchet had moved on again: four digits were now squelching in and out of her glistening cunt, and she was just beginning to curl her thumb into the palm of her hand so it too could follow suit. “Cunty-cunty, fisty-cunty,” she warbled to herself, “shaww I stick my pwetty fisty in my squidgy cunty…?” Chad had always loved watching a pretty girl fist herself, and didn’t want to miss that exquisite moment when the nurse’s whole hand would disappear for the first time between her stretched-out fuck-lips. Consequently, he was finding it very hard – nay, impossible – to concentrate on his interviewer’s words.
Hildegard recognised this, and raised her voice. “But… hypothetically,” she insisted, “would you, if ordered, kill a black, or a half-breed, or an antediluvian religious believer, or any other deviant Undesirable subhuman freak?” Her voice continued to rise in pitch as she stood up behind her desk and pointed directly at Chad. “Would you, if ordered, point a gun at him and BLOW HIS FUCKING BRAINS OUT?!!!” Her eyes shone with demented ecstasy.
There was a long silence. Even cocksure arrogant Chad was thinking he had made a terrible mistake in coming here today, and he was feeling very scared and confused. He looked from Hildegard’s lunatic grin, to Nurse Datchet’s hand, now buried wrist-deep in her cunt, and back again. The substance of the doctor’s words was completely escaping him, though her face continued to tremble with sadistic imagination. Dolores Datchet pulled her hand slowly out of her pussy, so that Chad could watch her glistening pussy-lips stretch wide, leaving her pink fuck-tunnel gaping and her hand fragrant and glowing. “Heehee, squelchy pinky cunty all gapey wiv me fisty,” she giggled, smiling at him seductively and licking her red lips. “You wanna fucky pwetty cunty, wittle boy?”
Chad, despite his arrogance and his bullying temperament, was not utterly without morals, and he hesitated, his heart pounding with horror at Hildegard’s fervid, deranged monologue. But the sight of Nurse Datchet’s hot gaping cunt, added to her filthy infantile babbling, was too much for him. He wasn’t sure which question he was answering – Hildegard’s “blow his fucking brains out?” or Dolores’ “fucky pretty cunty?” – but he repiled, slowly: “It would be my pleasure, ma’am.”
“So glad to hear that, Chad,” said Hildegard firmly. “The job is yours.”
In an instant, Nurse Datchet closed her legs and pulled down her skirt. She pouted her lips at Chad. “Poor wittle boy wanna fuck my pwetty cunty? Maybe he can tomowwow, hee hee…” She got up, and swiftly left the room, leaving Chad standing alone, frustrated and bewildered, with a raging, dribbling erection, while Hildegard smirked inscrutably.
“Get your trousers on, please, Chad,” she said.
~
Tuesday, 1st November, 2050
Dearest Mommy,
Well, the party last night was totally fucking! Harriet was dressed as a 1920s flapper, and was smoking her cigarettes with a really long holder, which looked sooo sexy! Eva came as some kind of voodoo priestess or something – you know, wearing a see-through grass skirt and draped with beads and shells and stuff. She had these mini-skulls dangling from her nipple piercings, which looked absolutely amazing!
Claire gave several fanged blowjobs. Bradley got so freaked out, ‘coz after he’d come all over her face she was giving him some post-cum head and then bit on a fake blood pellet hidden in her mouth, so it looked like she’d bitten his cock! He’d already jumped back and screamed before realising it was fake. But Claire looked so fucking amazing with his cum all over her face and “blood” dripping from her mouth: after that all the boys were wanting “vampire” blowjobs!
I guess you must have heard in the news about the old man that got shot at the Princess Asshole Hospice. I was there – and it was Eva’s dad. Now, I know what you’re thinking, that he was illegal and overage and all that – and I agree, of course. But Eva’s still really upset about it. So I wondered if you’d be okay to cheer her up by giving her one of Daddy’s Auto Plus Plugs – you know, the new model you were testing out…? She’s been telling me she wants to improve her gape, so I thought this would be the best way. Any chance you could persuade Daddy to send me one? This is for a really special cause. Pretty please with cum on top…?
Chad seems to have disappeared completely ever since that afternoon at the Hospice. Nobody’s quite sure why. Well, I think the lecturers know more than they’re letting on, and all sorts of rumours are flying around – but I really don’t know the truth of it.
Take a good assfuck from Daddy for me. Loads of fucks and kisses,
Al
~
Chad Halloway pulled his trousers back on and stood waiting in front of Hildegard, wondering, in the turmoil of his mind, what to say next. His erection was still raging and unsatisfied, and pre-cum continued to leak from his cock-head, turning the inside of his trousers into a viscous mess. Images of Dolores’ shining fist-gaped cunt filled his mind, miring him deep in unsatisfied lust. Never before had a girl teased him so much, and then just walked away.
Hildegard’s voice yanked him back to reality. “Did you like Nurse Datchet’s little show, Chad?” she asked softly, reading his mind again. “Such a shame she hasn’t yet let you fuck that pussy of hers, isn’t it?” There was the outline of a smirk on her face.
Chad didn’t know what to say. It seemed as if Hildegard understood him better than he did himself. He felt sure he was being manipulated – but he didn’t know how to fight it. So he nodded, “Yes, ma’am.”
“I think you have great potential, young man,” said the doctor, patting him on the shoulder. “And I think you are wasted on the RAF. Cuntslicker will never appreciate your true merits: she is too much of an idealist, does not understand the complexities of fucking ‘at the chalk-face’, so to speak. Here, if you work hard, we can make you a great Final Fucker. And maybe you could fuck Dolores too. Would you like that…?”
Again, Chad wasn’t sure exactly what question he was answering. But he said, “Yes Ma’am, thank you so much.”
“Excellent. Please come in tomorrow morning then, Chad, and we can begin your training. Lick my pussy.”
“Suck my cock, ma’am,” said Chad. Bewildered and perturbed, yet flattered, he paused, waiting for Hildegard to say something else – before realising that his interview was over. And so he nodded obsequiously and let himself out of the office, just as Dolores Datchet, now in her nurse’s uniform again, returned and shut the door in his face.
Hildegard and Dolores sat in the office, silently smirking at each other as they waited for Chad’s desultory footsteps in the corridor to fade away, before bursting out in raucous laughter.
“Ha ha! You were wonderful, my dear, wonderful!” clapped Hildegard with glee. “What a cruel tease! All that ‘pwetty fucky fisty cunty’ was sheer genius! And where ever did you get that voice from? He just couldn’t resist, could he?”
“And what bullshit tale were you just spinning, Hildy? ‘Here, if you work hard, we can make you great’?!”
“Ach, never mind, Dolores. He will find out the truth soon enough. But by then it will be too late, and we will have another dick-brained male in our grasp, to join our other three numbskull thugs. Job well done, my dear.”
“Do you think he has any idea what we really do here?”
“None at all. The bigger the cock, the smaller the brain. But soon he will be in too deep to escape. Now, come here and fist my cunt, there’s a good girl…”
~
Chad descended the stairs of the Princess Asshole Hospice, let himself out through the front double doors, walked a few yards, and turned at the first opportunity into a narrow alleyway. Mindlessly, he unzipped his fly, took out his damp slimy cock, fapped it back into an erection, steadied himself with one hand against a wall, and jerked off, painting seven or eight generous squirts of warm cum down the brickwork. “Oh fuck!” he groaned, images of Nurse Datchet’s hot, juicy, gaping, pink fuck-hole filling his mind, battling – and obscuring – those thoughts of Eva which had so recently dominated him.
“Oh fuck, what a pathetic wanker I have become… And what have I got myself into now?” he wondered. “But at least I’ve got a fucking job…”
“Nice dick, love,” croaked a passing bag lady.
Chad shook his cock as clean as best he could, watching as his cum continued to dribble down the wall, drowning an unsuspecting spider. “Oh, what the fuck…” he shrugged, as he zipped up and continued his weary way home…
~
“What is it?” asked Eva curiously. They were sitting in the RAF foyer, waiting for lectures to start.
“Open it, it’s for you!”
“For me?!” Eva ripped off the blowjob-themed wrapping paper and removed the luminescent purple butt-plug from its box, allowing it to pulsate and hum warmly in her hand. “Oh fucking!” she exclaimed. “Is it one of your dad’s models? It’s so beautiful!”
Alison grinned. “Try it! It’s specially designed to adapt to your asshole, and to gradually train your gape.”
“Wait, I’ll need some lube,” said Eva, searching in her handbag.
“No, you won’t!” Alison sang out.
“I fucking will, Al. I’m not like you!”
“Not with this mother you won’t. It’s self-lubing!”
“Fucking!” exclaimed Eva in amazement, as she lifted her skirt, knelt on a bench, stuck her ass out towards Alison, and handed her the plug. Alison took just a moment to admire Eva’s tight black starfish while sniffing its early-morning fragrance, before gently placing the head of the plug against it and giving it a gentle nudge. The whole butt-plug – apart from its T-bar – disappeared into Eva’s ass in one swift movement, as if it had a mind of its own. “Oh fuck, that’s amazing!” Eva yelped. “It knows exactly what to do!”
“Now, just wear it for a few days,” Alison said, “and soon you’ll be gaping like me!”
“Oh fuck!” squealed Eva again, as she felt the butt-plug begin its job of gently exploring her rectum from the inside – pulsating, vibrating, softly stroking her inner walls. “I’m gonna be jerking off so hard to this! Hey, didn’t I promise you that if you taught me to gape, I’d teach you to deepthroat? What about it?”
“Oh Jesus, how are you gonna do that?”
“I got some ideas. When do we start?”
~
Friday, 4th November, 2050
Dear Mommy,
Thank you sooo much for the butt-plug for Eva. It arrived this morning, and she is thrilled – she’s been wearing it all day, squirming her ass around and squealing “Oh fuck!” like, every five minutes. Too soon to say how her gape is developing – but she really likes it, so another “Bates butt” in the bag!
This has been the fuckingest week of the course so far! Our afternoon sessions have been on twentieth century “porn”. We have this amazing lecturer: her name is Simony Silver, and she was what they used to call a “pornstar” in the ‘20s: have you heard of her? It’s amazing hearing her tales about being a professional fucker before the Enlightenment: it makes me really grateful I was born now, and not then!
Anyway, Simony has started us off watching flicks from what she calls the “Golden Age” of porn, which she says was the 1970s and early ‘80s. Jesus, some of those guys had tiny dicks, or couldn’t keep them hard – and the girls all had hairy cunts! But they didn’t have GM then, and they barely had any surgical enhancements either – so no fucking wonder! It’s amazing they managed to fuck each other at all…
Anyway, Simony’s been showing us her favourite scenes. There’s one from the ‘70s – something about Bach or Mozart or something – with a girl making three guys cum simultaneously with just her mouth and hands. That’s pretty impressive – I mean, these days guys are always stroking themselves off onto your face, aren’t they? So Harriet’s been practising it with Darren and Joe – first time I’ve ever seen her voluntarily put down her cigarettes.
Watching all this ancient stuff is really inspiring for youngsters like us! Those twentieth-century fuckers really had the odds stacked against them in so ways: diseases, social disapproval, legal prohibitions, no GM of course– and yet they kept at it! They must have been such idealists, so full of high moral principles, and such a grand sense of social vision, to go against the grain like that…
Anyway, today, Simony says, we’re starting what she calls the “Second Wave” – which I think means the mid-‘80s onwards. I get the impression the pornstars got better looking then – and I think some of them actually started shaving their cunts. I can’t wait!
Loads of Pleasure from your filthy motherfucking slut daughter,
Al
P.S. Oh yeah, I meant Beethoven…
~
“Psst… Alison! Claire!” Eva caught up with the two girls in the entrance hall just after lunch. “I’ve got something to show you,” she said. “Come out to the park with me.”
“Can’t you show us here?” asked Claire.
“Not safe,” Eva replied mysteriously. “These walls have ears.”
The three girls walked out into the open air, and turned towards Regents Park. Autumn was beginning to draw in, and the weather was becoming cooler, so the girls found a park bench on which they could huddle against each other in their jackets. Eva squealed “Oh fuck!” again, her bottom squirming in pleasure at the Bates plug therein – before taking an envelope out of her pocket and handing it to Alison. “My brother forwarded it to me,” she explained. On the envelope, in large curly pink handwriting, it read:
Robert Daniels, Esq.
followed by an address. Claire leaned over Alison’s shoulder, as Alison read aloud:
Dear Rob,
How good of you to look us up! I do hope we can get together sometime: you have been such an inspiration to us. I am so grateful that it was me that ended up sucking your cock that day in Cunts’ office – or I would not have heard your wise words, which gave a name to the feelings and thoughts that Andy and I had been having for so long but not dared voice.
There was a soft beep from between Eva’s buttocks. “Oh fuck,” she groaned. “That’s my plug. It means I need a poop,” she said, reaching under her skirt to pull out her purple Auto Plus Plug. It had grown fatter over the weekend, and pulsated slowly in her hand.
“What, you need a butt-plug to tell you when to shit?” asked Claire.
“Well, when I’m wearing it, it feels like I need a dump all the time – because it’s always stroking the inside of my ass. So it has a ‘poop-sensor’ to tell you when to have a shit. I should’ve gone straight after lunch. It’s okay – it always gives me a few minutes’ warning. Here, you want a taste?”
“Hey, how come Evie gets one of these monsters and I don’t?” asked Claire, giving the plug a slurp before handing it back.
“Well, you never said you wanted to learn to gape – but Evie did!” replied Alison self-righteously.
“Hey, Claire, you could join me in teaching Al to deepthroat!” suggested Eva mischievously, as she slid the plug back into her asshole.
“Hey, now there’s a thought,” Claire grinned.
“Oh fuck…” groaned Alison, as she resumed reading:
We are very happy together. It is of course quite a shock living outside the Union, where society is so different, and where the cultural norms and presumptions of the Enlightenment just do not apply. We have to keep reminding ourselves that we can’t just fuck anywhere and everywhere we want! But we are grateful for the Love which has brought us here, and which binds us together. And it is such a relief not having to live the lie we had to before…
“What the fuck?!” interrupted Eva, suddenly standing up and scowling into the distance.
“What?” said the other two in bewilderment.
“Look!” said Eva, pointing at a copper beech tree in the distance. “Watching us!”
“Who?” said Alison and Claire in unison.
“It… it… well, I could be wrong… but it looked like Chad…” said Eva, knitting her brow.
“Ha ha!” laughed Claire. “He’s missing your throat, baby – thought he could sneak up on you in the park and fuck your face while we’re looking the other way.”
“Well, I didn’t see anyone,” said Alison. “Shall I continue?
We got married last week! And – guess what? – we’ve been able to have our sterilisation reversed. So now I am pregnant, and we are expecting a baby in some nine months’ time! How fortunate we are.
“Fucking hell!” exclaimed Claire in shock. “Oh Jesus motherfucking Christ, how the fuck?!”
“What do you mean, ‘how the fuck’?” giggled Alison. “How the fuck do you think?”
“Yeah, okay, I know – I’ve read about it in history books.”
“Have you?” asked Alison, raising one eyebrow and smirking. “When was the last time you read a history book?”
“Oh fuck off, Al. Okay, maybe you just told me about it. But either way, to think that someone I know has got pregnant by being fucked, and that she’s gonna get all fat and ugly, and then the baby’s gonna come out of her cunt! Oh my fucking God…”
“Hey, shut up, Claire, let me continue,” said Alison, as she read:
Rob, I am so sorry to hear about your loss – and for the terrible way it happened. There is such a dark underbelly to the so-called Enlightenment: here in the Outside World it is much more chaotic, and insecure, and poverty-stricken – yet there is a wholeness and an honesty which makes up for all that.
“Just hang on a minute! I’ve been thinking…” interrupted Claire again.
“Well, that’s news!” joked Alison.
“Ha ha, Miss Schopenwhore. No, seriously – Anna says she’s had her sterilisation reversed? So does that mean every time she fucks a guy she’s gonna get a new baby?”
“No, cunt-brain!” replied Alison in exasperation. “First of all, she’s not gonna fuck other guys now, is she? And secondly –”
“Whaddaya mean, she’s not gonna fuck other guys?” interrupted Claire. “Why not?”
“Well, because she’s married to Andy now!”
“Yeah, well, my parents are married to each other, but they fuck anyone who comes their way. Don’t your parents?”
“Yeah, sure – but Unenlightened folks do it differently. For them, marriage is meant to be exclusive.”
“What!” shouted Claire, horrified. “No fucking way! Eva – surely your parents didn’t stop fucking around when they got married?”
“Uh, yeah, they did, kind of…” said Eva.
“But surely…” – Claire’s mind was working overtime, trying to work out an exit-clause – “at least your mom could fuck other girls, right?”
Eva laughed as she shook her head. Claire gaped at her in horror.
“Oops, uh… Eva… why don’t you read the next bit?” said Alison tentatively.
“Why?” asked Eva.
“Just do it,” replied Alison, handing her the letter. Eva took it and read:
Rob – I am also sorry that you do not yet have the blessing of being with the one you love. Be patient. Maybe things will change.
“What the fuck’s she talking about?” interrupted Claire again. “‘The one you love’ – who the fuck is that, Evie?”
“Well, I guess she means Alison…” ventured Eva.
“Alison?! Alison doesn’t fucking belong to him! How dare he?”
“Hey, calm down, Claire,” said Eva. “That’s just her interpretation. Besides, it’s no secret he loves her – and he sacrificed a lot out of love for her. And what’s it to you anyway?”
“What’s it to me? What’s it to me?” Claire blustered. “Don’t you think I care about Alison? Don’t you think I have the right to… to… I mean, I also…” Alison dug her elbow into Claire’s side to shut her up.
Claire was not finished – but tempered her language so that Eva wouldn’t suspect the true reasons for her disquietude. “Eva – do you mean that that’s… that’s normal for people in the Outside World? I mean, I know about the poverty and disease and all – and people like, live in trees and eat bugs and stuff… But do they really just fall in love, and get married, and have kids, and never fuck anyone else again – and they’re actually happy with that? I mean, your parents – were they really happy living that kind of life? And your brother now…?
“Why do you ask, Claire? You thinking of self-exiling too?”
“Fuck, no!” replied Claire in horror. “I just wondered…” She looked into the middle-distance, as if imagining something quite unfathomable. “I just wondered what’s it’s really like…”
Eva rolled her eyes. “Well, just to reassure you, my parents don’t live in a tree – or eat bugs! Now listen: I’m nearly done…
Please do keep in touch, Rob. With appreciation, and much love,
– Eva pronounced the last word loudly, as if making a very important point –
Anna and Andy
“There’s that ‘L-word’ again!” said Claire.
Alison smiled. “Hey, we’ll be late for Porn!” she said, checking her watch. “I don’t wanna miss it: we’re doing Traci Lords today. Hurry!”
“Yeah, and I need a crap!” said Eva. She got up, peering again suspiciously in the direction of the copper beech, before they all began walking briskly back towards the RAF.
