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It's Always Time

by Oblimo

Act Four: Food for Thought

Chapter Three

That Fine Line

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"Shit," Dee said over dry crackling, "I broke another tree. Sorry." He let go of Eurydice's waist, slipped out of her nectarous sex, and stepped back.

Eurydice threw him a lazy, cross-eyed smile over her bare shoulder. "S'okay," she panted, clinging to the listing tree for dear life. "I'm goo—oop!" The tree groaned and gave way, dragging her down with it. She lay there, bent over the fractured tree stump, her rump high in the air. "Man, am I good." Her giggles sent shock waves through her heart-stopping apple of an ass.

Dee ogled her rear-end. Green syrup wept down the insides of her squeezing thighs. The translucent flesh of her ass, her pussy, and her tenebrous inner gel, churned a milky, pale jade as his cum suffused her substance. He ran three fingers up the inner curve of a thigh and the liquid of her sex ran down the back of his hand as hot mint jelly. Eurydice cooed and rocked back, squashing his fingers between her legs. Dee grinned, angled his fingers up, and eased them further in. Eurydice whimpered and thumped the ground with her fist, stirring a little flurry of twigs, leaves and earth into the air. "No fair," she whined as he slid his hand about, "don't tease me."

Dee bowed over her. She groaned, propped herself up, and crushed her back into his chest. "I thought you liked it," he scolded into her ear.

"I do. I like it too much." She plopped back down to the ground in a viridian puddle.

"And we're running out of trees," Dee admitted.

Eurydice glanced around, frowning. The four toppled trees gave her a clear view of the road and the Jeep. "I finally get to fuck you in public, and nobody's watching, dammit. Yves is just sitting there reading a roadmap."

"Yves is not a voyeur," Dee said. "'Unless there're two dicks involved, and one of them's mine, I'm not interested,' he says. It's part of his 'existential monogamy' nonsense." He tapped her on the ass. "C'mon, hon. He's waiting."

"It's not just that," Eurydice said, watching Yves comparing notes between the hardcopy map and talky GPS. "He's wound so tight." She turned to Dee, eyes glistening. "You know why, right?" Dee nodded and she faced forward again. "And now he's surrounded by goo girls. It isn't his wet dream, it's a nightmare. What are we going to do?"

Dee cleaned himself off with the muscle shirt. "The only thing we can do." He plucked his briefs and borrowed sweatpants off a broken branch. "Be his friends and help him save the world. Oh, and ruin another one of his shirts. I grabbed a bunch of his old clothes from his closet and stuck them in the trunk."

Eurydice smirked. "I like your priorities. Let's go." She pulled herself upright, her chest stamped with the zigzag of tree bark. Gel pulsed down her legs in a fluidic reflex, splashing into the puddle of piping hot apple jam at her feet. Teeny whitecaps formed on the puddle's surface and soon Eurydice stood in the center of a minute maelstrom. She huffed and closed her eyes in concentration. The whitecaps peaked and spun, higher and faster. Eurydice clenched her fists at her sides. "C'mon, dammit, c'mon, keep it together."

Dee could see the anxiety painted across her face. He tried to ask if everything was all right, but she spat, "I can do this, dammit." She hefted her fists up, arms trembling with the effort, as if struggling to raise heavy, invisible dumbbells. The whitecaps stabbed into the air, rising and wriggling like fingers—"Got it!"—Eurydice snapped her fists up to her shoulders and the whirligig of goo funneled up her legs, feeding her core. "Got it, God damn it."

Dee pressed a gentle hand against her back. He felt currents racing below the surface tension of her gel-flesh. "Are you in control?"

"Aye. I mean, yeah." This time, the smile she gave Dee over her shoulder was crooked but nervy. "But if you ask which me is in control, I'm going to kick you in the crotch."

Dee nodded. "It's a fair cop; that's exactly what I was thinking." He hitched up his briefs. "But is there anything I can do?"

Eurydice winked. "Lower your sperm count?"

Dee snapped the elastic band of his briefs. "I'm already wearing really tight undies."

"I can see that," Eurydice breathed, eyes shining as she glanced down. She sighed and shook her head. "Better put Mine away, Dee, unless you brought Hazmat suits for your friends along with those extra clothes. I lose a little control with each nanogasm."

"You kind of always have," Dee said, pulling on the pair of baggy Hammer pants.

"But not like this. Too many nanogasms at once and I, um…" She groped for the right word. "I fragment, I guess."

Dee perked up. "Like a hard drive."

"You are such a dork." Eurydice mugged and morphed into her Unabomber disguise. She took care to smooth out tufts of unruly, violent green cilia that erupted from random crevices, sprouting from the tops of her boots and struggling out from between her tits.

"I'm in love with a Great Old One," Dee mused as the last writhing mass vanished into her disguise. "What would Lovecraft say?"

"Howard? Dunno," Eurydice shrugged, "he kept passing out. Had to take notes from Clark and Rob."

Dee's eyes bugged out of his head. "You're shitting me."

Eurydice crooked an eyebrow at him and popped her sunglasses on. "I don't kiss and tell." She sauntered out of the devastated copse and onto the road.

Dee hopped after her. "Aw, come on, you've got to be kidding. Right? Right?"

Eurydice swung her hips, crying out a preposterous, overacted fake orgasm. "Ia! Ia!" Ursula swaggered into view around the Jeep and Eurydice froze mid-swing. "Ia—whoa."

Dee's jaw dropped. Ursula scissored down the road, a proverbial walking streak of sex. She had abandoned her clunky Doc Martins for a pair of gleaming, black vinyl go-go boots that hugged her ankles and disappeared up the bellbottomed legs of her jeans. Thick, six-inch heels whacked-whacked-whacked! on the pavement as Ursula brought one foot down right in front of the other. Without the poncho, the waist of her jeans smiled wide under her flat stomach, riding low enough to expose the mouth of the valley of her crotch. Dee saw no flash of flesh, just more of that same glossy black PVC-like material. It rose up out of her pants in a seamless one-piece, sealing off her entire body below the neck in a hard candy shell that yielded and flexed with her every movement and breath but never stretched or creased. An Emma Peel cat-suit with muscle memory. "How do we look?"

"You have to ask?" Dee managed.

Ursula ground to a halt. Her fingers, gloved skintight, toyed with a long, plaited ponytail as she muttered. "Yves wouldn't look up from the map. CeeCee wouldn't stop wisecracking. Raz couldn't stop frigging but that's okay because she says the most awful things anyway."

Dee interrupted but soon found himself at lost for words. "Ursula, you've got nothing to worry about. You look, well, I don't quite know how to say this, but you look…"

"Damn, girl," wowed Eurydice.

"Yeah," Dee agreed. "What she said."

Ursula blushed, beamed, and flounced back to the jeep. Dee watched her braids pendulum across her ass. "I wonder how that feels for Nyx," he said.

"Mm, I can’t even imagine," Eurydice sighed. When Ursula disappeared around the the Jeep, Eurydice asked him, "Should I be jealous?"

"Excuse me?" Dee crooked his thumb. "You were the one who fucked her, apparently."

"No," Eurydice said, swaying close and running her hands over Dee's ribs. "I mean, have we ever tried that? Have you ever, y'know…" She left a curlique finger-trail of green frosting over his abs. "…worn me?"

"Not like that," Dee admitted. "Not exactly."

Eurydice pouted. "Then I am jealous."

Dee waggled his eyebrows. "You don’t remember the Nanocream Bubble Spa Technique."

Eurydice pulled off her sunglasses to wonder at him wide-eyed. "Whuzzat?"

Dee scooped the frosting off his skin and popped it into his mouth, lips smacking at the tangy taste. "I don't kiss and tell, either." Eurydice mocked shock and Dee added, "You'll remember. You'll remember everything, I promise."

Dee smiled as confidently as he could and made his way past her toward the Jeep, pretending not to hear the anxious way her voice fell as she mustered, "Yeah, I know I will."

"This is an utter indignity," CeeCee protested from the trunk of the Jeep, a cramped gap between the backseat and the vehicle's rear hatch. "I like restraint if it doesn't go too far, but a woman of my stature should not be so confined."

"Get your boobs out of my head," Eurydice huffed.

Dee, intrigued by the peculiar phrasing, twisted in the front seat to get a good look. Eurydice mashed her elbows against the avalanche of confection-flesh billowing over the lip of the trunk. The speeding Jeep jolted. CeeCee's butter yellow tits bulged around Eurydice's arms and flumped against both sides of her head, orange areola smothering the green girl's ears through the hoody. "Great," Eurydice said as stiff nipples slipped through the surface tension of her own citrus gel, "now all I can think about is tight, scratchy sweaters, baby binkies, and—for some reason—Graham cracker crumbs."

"Unless your man's hankering for a slice of Key Lime pie," CeeCee told her, "we'd better get to this 'SRU' place in a hurry."

"Would you rather be stuck on the roof with Raspberry?" Eurydice threatened.

"I'm fucking the wind!" Raspberry hollered from above. Lavender Ghostbuster slime spattered the windows. Yves flicked on the windshield wipers, launching a spray of wiper fluid. "Oh, bugger off, you butt-pirate." Yves snarled and pumped the brake. Raspberry cried out with each lurch. "Oh, yeah! Harder! Give it! Aw, was that the best you got?"

"I think I'm beginning to hate her," Yves said, pinching the bridge of his nose. Eurydice shot Dee a worried look. Dee put a hand on Yves' arm. "I'll be okay," Yves muttered. "That caffeine headache must be kicking in early. Are you sure you know where we're going? The GPS thinks were in middle of the county reservoir." Dee gave Yves a reassuring shoulder squeeze and Yves sagged in the driver's seat. "Look, I'm know I'm not 'great' or even close to 'fine,' but I will be okay, so let's just get this thing done. I swear I'll let you know if I get in trouble. Hell, you'll probably know before I do. All right?" Dee nodded and Yves glanced into the rearview mirror and spoke to Eurydice. "You too, all right?" Eurydice nodded and fought back another landslide of cheesecake. Yves rolled his eyes, frowned, and angled the rearview mirror. "Ursula, what's up? Carsick?"

Ursula sat in the backseat next to Eurydice, flushed and agape, her face prickled with sweat, her oval eyeglasses askew at the tip of her nose. "N-no, not really, I'm fine. Really. Just..." She shifted in her poncho. The rubbery collar around her neck looked dappled and slick. "Just don't bounce and jerk the car around like that again, okay? All that cum, um, commotion caught us by surprise, that's all."

Yves shrugged, scanning the road ahead. Eurydice, arms spread wide to hold back the marshmallow tide, grinned at Dee but said nothing. Ursula turned to look out the window, cupping her chin with a gloved hand. She ran two black-lacquered fingertips over her lips. A single, impish giggle escaped her and she sucked her fingers into her mouth. The inky material of the glove wrinkled and wriggled in frantic motion, but Ursula just worked her fingers in and out, her slurping laughter deep and muffled.

"Do I want to know?" Yves asked as Dee spun to face forward.

"No," Dee said, blushing scarlet, "you really don't."

"Good," said Yves, pulling the Jeep into a wide, empty parking lot with a white brick building squatting in the middle of it, "because we're here."

"No Mini Coop," Dee observed, "but the sign says 'Open,' so SB is probably inside. Don't park too close. We don't want to interrupt anything."

"Mm, listen," Ursula said, pulling her wet fingers out of her mouth. "They've got a bathroom in there, right? Because I really gotta pee—Eeep!" She sat up, stiff as a board and thunderstruck. She blinked, blushed, and relaxed. "Uh, never mind."

Eurydice edged away from Ursula as Yves picked a parking space halfway into the lot. The Jeep's engine cut off and Dee heard a discordant ringing at the edge of hearing. The car ticked as it cooled. "Well," Yves said, waving a hand at the cluttered storefront window. "Now what?"

The ugly claxon grew loud as the door with SRU MEDICAL stenciled in fading blue ink opened inward. A lean, muscular girl with skin the color of Ruby Red grapefruit juice and cornrows of cotton candy stepped out onto the sidewalk. Her coppery, sleeveless dress rippled in the wind, tracing the sleek physique beneath.

"Dee, I thought you said Strawberry Banana was hung like a horse," Yves said. The rose girl stepped down onto the pavement. Dee nodded. "Some dick-girl," Yves scoffed, eyes narrowed. "Where's her dick?"

The rose girl raised her right arm parallel with her shoulder. She furled her fingers and forest of fractals sprouted from her palm. The pale, rainbowed lines and wedges zigzagged through the air, reminding Dee of the sudden, geometric spread of ice crystals captured with time-elapsed photography. The cloud of chaos whirling away from her fingers grew random and fractured and unrecognizable, but at some hidden instant collapsed into solidity and certain, deadly shape.

The rose girl held her scimitar aloft. Its wide, curving blade of pale pink crystal dazzled with sunlight. She wrapped her left hand around its huge pommel and brought it down before her chest in the imposing two-handed grip of a harem guard from the decadent flights of Arabian fantasy. Her diamond eyes were cold and expressionless. The sickle tip of the sword towered above her head. For a long while, Dee heard no sound other than that horrid bell, blessedly muffled behind the closing door. Then came the crunch of dust and lose pavement as the rose girl advanced on the Jeep.

Yves stared ahead. He clucked his tongue.

"Do something, Dee," Eurydice whispered, huddled into CeeCee's pliant flesh.

"What should I do?" Dee asked as the rose girl drew closer. "SB could probably kick my ass six ways to Sunday. Maybe I could talk to her?" He shook his head to clear it. "Wait, what are we worried about? She's made out of Jell-O. That sword is made out of Jell-O. It’s useless."

The rose girl swept the sword out and down in an underhand grip. Its tip connected with the pavement. Sparks flew. She stepped over the charred, smoking scar the sword left in the blacktop. The swing followed through and the sword slapped back into both hands again, unmarked.

"I just shat my pants," Raspberry announced from the roof. The rose girl had crossed half the distance between the store and the Jeep. "I had to grow pants just to pinch a loaf in them. Somebody better appreciate the effort I went through before we all die by shish kabob."

"I think," Yves said calmly—and Dee knew that Yves at his calmest was also Yves at his most dangerous—"I've had enough of this sort of thing for today." Yves clicked open his seatbelt, eased out the driver's side door, and ambled into the rose girl's path. He walked with an unhurried gate, shoulders squared, his knees and arms kept bent at a relaxed angle.

"Yves' in trouble," Dee said.

"Don't let her hurt him, Dee," Eurydice pled.

Dee hunkered in the Jeep's busted doorframe, ready to leap out at the two figures closing ranks in front of him. "I won't." Damn it,, he thought, none of this makes any sense. SB wound her scimitar back, a batter ready to swing for the bleachers. Dee coiled to jump. I can't think of any reason for SB to act this way…

"I've sparred with a Swiss Flambergé," Yves said, never breaking his stride as he stepped within striking distance, "a Zweihänder sword almost as tall as I am, even a stupid Klingon bat'leth." He did not stop until he and SB stood toe-to-toe and eye-to-eye. "But that…" Yves nodded at the crystal bladed scimitar glinting high above their heads. He let the silence stretch, his observation incomplete. SB cocked one eyebrow. The sword dropped a fraction of an inch, and Yves said, "…is just gay."

Dee thought, Unless this is another test?

"And that," Yves finished, "is coming from a guy who voluntarily has sex with men." The scimitar's scintillating tip traced an eccentric oval in the air as SB's poker face cracked into perplexity. "I mean," Yves added, pointing, "look at that thing. It's got to be over a foot wide, and, what, four feet long? Something from a video game." He shook his head. "Not a real sword. What the Hell can you do with it? Run around screaming 'Hassan chop'?" SB glared in silent defiance, turned aside, and brought the sword down close, hugging the pommel between her breasts, like a toddler protecting her favored teddy bear from a bullying brother. "Fine," Yves shrugged, stepping back. "I'll show you." He held out his hand. "Give it here."

SB stared down into Yves open palm. Dee stood up in the Jeep doorframe, leaning outward. "Uh, Yves?"

Yves flicked a Stay-out-of-this frown in Dee's direction before waggling the fingers of his outstretched hand at SB. "Well?"

Scowling in uncertainty and moving with exaggerated care, SB offered the haft of the scimitar to Yves. Yves wrapped a hand around the roseate bulge of the pommel. SB stared at Yves' tan hand for a while before Yves said, "You've got to let go eventually, you know." SB relaxed her fingers and the full weight of the blade transferred to Yves. "See?" Yves grunted, quickly grabbing the scimitar with both hands. "It's got to weigh over ten pounds. There's no way you can…Huh." He choked up on the grip and took another pace backward. "It's got good balance, I'll give you that." SB pursed her lips, a sarcastic smirk beginning to blossom on her face—the scimitar swooshed once, twice, three times around Yves' shoulders as he whipped it about with the expertise of a champion baton twirler—and SB gasped and gawped instead, hands clenched over her heart.

Dee hopped onto the pavement. "Hey, Yves?"

Yves ignored him and set the scimitar spinning on its pommel in the flat of one hand. SB broke out into a sweat, her hands dropping to trace little, twitching circles over her washboard abs and chiseled obliques. "Alright," Yves confessed, tossing the sword end-over-end and high into the air, "it's got freakin' amazing balance." The sword purred—whum-whummm—slicing the sky before Yves snatched it and began an effortless twirl again. "But let's see what it can really do."

SB's eyes flashed with panic. "Wait…" Yves executed a simple, modified kata form-exercise: knelt on one knee then barked wordlessly, striking out horizontal with the blade before rising for a wicked quick, overhead cut in the empty air. SB moaned and plopped down hard onto her ass. Yves performed a series of fluid slashes, cuts, and thrusts of a kata for practicing fending off three attackers at once. SB, her eyes glazed and jaw hanging, watched him shuffle, swing, and shout as he completed one maneuver after another, describing a circle around her. "Please," she begged, clawing at the pavement. "Nn, God, please…I, I can't…"

The hollering bell grew loud again. "Hey, blondie." A young woman with raven hair glowered from the storefront doorway. Yves stopped in mid-mock decapitation to turn and look. Below the quivering blade, SB's eyes rolled back into her head and she toppled over insensate.

"Give Strawberry her banana back," Tomoe said.

Yves snapped out of his combat-trance. "Sorry. I'm really comfortable working up a sweat with this thing for some reason. I guess I got carried away. And I stand corrected about what I said before: this is a real sword." He knelt, holding the scimitar out to SB. "Here you go. Hey, you okay?"

SB fumbled her way upright. She plucked the proffered sword from Yves' hand, grimaced, and gingerly cradled the blade against her shoulder. Hunching over, she scuttled away. Tomoe followed SB with her eyes, inscrutable smile dawning, as the rose girl crossed in front of her and raced around a whitewashed corner of the store.

SB careened into a green metal dumpster standing flush against the building's western wall. Damn thing was always on the rear dock with the recycle bins. What the fuck was it doing here? Oh, that's right, Tomoe had made SB empty and haul the dumpster around the side last night for some unfathomable, Tomoe-ish reason. Unfathomable last night, SB corrected herself, but obvious now. This was just one of the prices SB paid for falling in love with a woman who could see the future unrolling before her like a movie in 4-D. Of course, Tomoe wanted that future to be a porn movie full of as many scenes of SB cumming as hard, as much, and as many times as possible. Over their three thousand year affair (not counting the relative-eternity time-loops Tomoe enjoyed watching the best), Tomoe took precautions and performed Rube Goldberg level machinations to ensure SB's life was filled with mind-numbing money-shot after mind-blowing money-shot after soul-shattering money-shot. Everyone wondered what Tomoe was always smiling about, but only SB knew for sure—or rather, would surely find out for sure in a few hours.

Last night, she should have known better than to wonder why she was moving the stupid dumpster. She should have remembered moving the dumpster, period. "Hose down the inside," Tomoe had demanded. "With the real hose, I mean." She had smiled inscrutably as SB fumed. "At least at first. Oh, and leave the top open, so it can dry. What, can't a woman want a clean dumpster every once in a while?"SB had forgotten all about it, had forgotten about nearly everything once that beautiful boy started working her scimitar like it was a tantric sex toy.

All these thoughts flickered through SB's powerful mind-web in the split second it took for her to smack into the rounded lip of the dumpster, lose her balance, and be carried by her momentum up and over and into the mouth of the fucking thing.

SB twisted at just the right moment and landed, blessedly, on her back on the floor of the dumpster. The scimitar lay heavy between her breasts. The monomolecular smart-edge of the blade knew the quantum signature of her flesh and would not cut, so instead it just thrummed there, sandwiched between her tits like a four and a half foot long, fourteen inch wide, thirteen pound dick.

Which was exactly what it was.

For the first time in many years, SB was scared to reattach her penis. On countless occasions, she had woken up in the morning to find that her penis was missing again. That usually meant Tomoe had gotten carried away watching her private SB cosmic spacetime bukkake filmography, and had made off with SB's dick for some "us time." SB would just sigh and smile, knowing Tomoe would soon slink back so SB could rejoin with her dick and experience all the fun the two of them had just had. There had been a few scares before, like the occasion Czarina Catherine hired Mata Hari to fuck SB's penis off and smuggle it into the Winter Palace. ("Why did you give Mata a time machine?" SB had asked one cold October morning in Paris. "She paid five gulden!" was Tomoe's excuse.)

It took SB and Tomoe thirty years to get the dick back, although Tomoe spent most of that time laughing her ass off. Catherine had used it monstrously, convincing SB she would never get it back until the Czarina died—which she did, stroking out in the bathtub while stroking off SB's penis for Catherine's twelve thousandth male orgasm-by-magical-proxy. When SB finally reattached her cock, the resultant money-shot lasted about eighteen months.

Tomoe had spent most of that time laughing her ass off, too, come to think of it.

But this was the first time someone else had ever used her dick, detached, right in front of her. If SB had not locked it into its sword-form before handing it over, the boy would have been drenched in jism, she was sure of it. As a sword, SB's dick responded to swordplay as a cock responds to foreplay, and this boy was an apparent master of both. But locked into its sword-form, her cock could not cum. On the numerous battlefields upon which she and Tomoe had fought—Atlantis' she-demon engulfment being the absolute worst—SB would cleave her way through a dozen or so opponents before sneaking behind a convenient balustrade, unlocking her dick and watching it erupt, only do go through all those orgasms all over again when the battle was won and her dick was between her legs again. This was the first time someone other herself had wielded her weapon as a weapon with an apparent expertise rivaling her own, so her scimitar had reached orgasm-point in a matter of moments, but, locked in form and in someone else's hands, could not achieve release.

SB had not known she could experience a self-perpetuating feedback-loop of orgasm denial. The needed components for creating such a harrowing phenomenon were rare enough to not present themselves throughout her long life until now. As the beautiful boy manhandled her, the cresting pressure and sizzling sting of the moment of ejaculation had bloomed in her belly; bloomed but then did not ebb; did not ebb but then increased; did not only increase but also increase exponentially as the sensation of continual imminent release itself fed the strength of the impending orgasm that never came but just built and built and built.

SB hefted the pink scimitar with the care of a demolitions expert probing an unexploded bomb. Her mind-web spent a few precious microseconds—the orgasmic feedback-loop still building (and building and building) deep within her—analyzing all the possible ways her predicament could play itself out. There was only one conclusion: Tomoe had labored to engineer this moment, to take advantage of the variables of the universe—or, perhaps, to arrange those universal variables in the first place—to maneuver SB into this situation, this crowning masterpiece of pleasure-torment, and Tomoe's grand vision would not be denied. SB propped her neck and shoulders on the wall of the dumpster, knees bent. She brought the pommel of the scimitar, a round, fat, polished ruby, down to her crotch and spread her legs.

The feminine slit waiting there was pouting, wet, and ready. More than ready, since her feminine side experienced the feedback loop as a clitoral orgasm that never truly came but only coiled in the anticipatory tension of her muscular core. She leaned forward, grabbing the scimitar's grip with both hands, and hefted it into the air to inspect the pommel gemstone, red as blood and as plump as a plum. How could she experience a clitoral orgasm, she thought, when her clitoris counterweighted twelve pounds of lethal, metaphorical manhood?

"T, my lovey, my creator, my cheeseburger," she muttered as she brought the pommel back down to nudge against the folds of her female sex. "You are into some seriously different shit."

She pressed down on the pommel. SB's rugged flesh did not give like other goo-girls'. She felt a spark of pain as her pussy stretched to accommodate the intrusion. It was soon replaced by a flood of pleasure from being so full as the pommel pushed inward, followed by the first inch of the grip, then the second and third. The flood of pleasure became a searing tower of need as the pommel melted and merged with her innermost nectar. Her sword transmogrified from an intruder invading her sex from without, into an extrusion of her sex, thrusting out from within. The blade softened, thickening in width but shrinking in length until it returned to the three-foot, dick-girl erection curving up from between her thighs that had started it all.

SB remembered how she had surprised and frightened her creator in the eon past, when SB first emerged from the icy, luciform waters of the nymphaeum grotto in the navel of the world. SB remembered how she had changed Tomoe's mind. She remembered how Tomoe had promised to make amends for that initial rejection, and how SB had, all those years ago, failed to notice that when Tomoe swore "I will never look away from your dick again," and SB had replied, "…in fear. Never look away in fear, you mean, right? Right. I accept your oath," Tomoe did not say yes or no…

…She had only smiled.

"Mm-Gawd-yes!"

Meliae jism, gouts and gouts of cloying, sweet seminal fluid, surged from her core and rocketed out of her dick. Cum plastered the wall of the dumpster behind her head and spattered onto her face. Only a fraction of the orgasm feed-back loop had unwound, so the nanomek in SB's core went into overdrive, rush-producing and then pneumatically launching another gallon, then two, then ten, of melia cum. Twenty seconds and a quarter billion nanogasms later, the dumpster resembled the strawberry preserve cooling vat in a jelly factory. SB sprawled at the bottom, completely submerged, awash in both body and mind in an ocean of release.

Consciousness returned and SB slithered up from the depths of jam, her dick detumescing. She burned a few thousand nanomek cleaning herself up as much as she could, and a thousand more manufacturing another copper-colored one piece dress. It felt cool and soothing against her still-weeping manhood. She hopped out of the dumpster, knees trembling until her nanomek rebuilt the carbon-crystal muscles in her legs. She marched toward the front of the store. "T," she panted. "Devil-bitch. Gotta get even. Got to get more nanomek. Got to go club—I got it!" She hunched her shoulders, mussed her hair, disassembled and melted a little musculature until she looked as worn-out and wobbly on the outside as she felt on the inside, and hobbled around the corner to the front of the store. "Here comes your darling cheeseburger."

The rose girl zipped around the corner. Dee heard a hollow, metallic bang. Yves and Tomoe sized each other up. Tomoe sighed and shrugged one shoulder, then stood on her tiptoes to regard Dee. "Oh, hey," she called, "Dee! Who's your bish—"

"Mm-Gawd-yes!" SB's exultation echoed around the parking lot, followed by a confusing series of pitters and patters and heavy, resounding splats.

Tomoe checked her wristwatch as the sounds grew faint and threw a hand in the air. "Pfft, typical. Anyway, Dee, who's your bishonen buddy?"

The Jeep creaked behind him as the four—Five, Dee reminded himself, Ursula doesn't really treat Nyx like an article of clothing and neither should you—as the five women skipped, oozed, or, in Raspberry's case, disengaged from the vehicle. Yves gave Dee a familiar arch look meaning Yves wanted him to take the lead. Dee shook his head, pointing a finger to his mouth, miming silent speech.

"Don't worry about it," Tomoe said, flipping back her dark hair and tapping the sunflower yellow lump stuck in her ear. "Aegean beeswax."

Dee scratched his head, then shrugged. "How did you know I was coming?"

"I have my ways." She glared up at the incessant doorbell. "Loud, annoying ways." Ursula and the three meliae crowded behind Dee and Tomoe added, "That’s some posse you got there."

"Thanks," said a denuded Raspberry. "It's a snapper."

Dee decided it was time for introductions. "That's Raz; just ignore her. The bishi is Yves."

"Ah, so I see." She nodded as if that explained everything. "But why did he coldcock my girlfriend?"

Dee did his best to mirror Tomoe's ineffable air of happy-go-lucky devilry. "She was waving her big thing around like she owned the place."

The rose girl toddled back into view sans sword but sporting an oblong bulge disrupting the simple symmetry of her dress. The lump under the fiery one-piece diminished, leaving a trailing stain from SB's belly button to her crotch as she shambled to the storefront door. Her cornrows frizzed in cottony tufts. Tomoe took one look at SB's angry red flush and her inscrutable smile upended into a peevish frown. "Some cheeseburger you are." Tomoe spoke in a crass imitation of SB's contralto. "'Better stay back, lovey. I'll handle this.'" SB stumped in silence up the handicap access ramp next to the door, wracked with yawns. "Was that the sort of manhandling you had in mind? You got owned, SB."

SB reached the threshold of the storefront and paused at Tomoe's side, the bell yammering above them. Without meeting Tomoe's withering glare, SB panted, "Invite…him…clubbing." She disappeared into the store.

Tomoe balled her fists. "Masaka!" She stormed in after SB. The jarring bell and closing door muffled a string of crabby outbursts in rapid-fire Japanese. Yves listened for a moment, his face blank, then shrugged and moved for the door. Dee pulled him aside.

Dee hissed, "Do you have any idea what you just…" Then he thought about it. "Wait. Of course you do."

"Damn right," Yves said as Ursula strut past. Yves smiled, still tense and exhausted, but Dee thought the pressure building inside his friend no longer approached critical mass. "I know a cock when I grab one."

Ursula pushed open the storefront door and stood at the threshold of SRU. A hush fell over the lot. The absence of noise raised Dee's hackles but it took a moment for Dee to realize why: the awful doorbell hung silent and still above Ursula's head. Tomoe's merry welcome rang out instead. "Oh, hey! Little sisters. Come on in." Ursula crossed the threshold and the bell started up its obnoxious clattering again as the door closed behind her.

Eurydice slunk over to Dee, nesting in the crook of his arm. "Is it safe in there?" She eyed the windows piled high with display boxes of diagnostic gadgets, mobility scooter gear, and absorbency pads for every eventuality.

"Each time I've gone in there," Dee admitted, "I've come out a different man, one way or another." Eurydice shivered and Dee planted a hard, lingering kiss over her eager mouth until his lips stung with citric acid. "But I'll never look back." She sighed and melted a little, suffusing his arm in gentle warmth. Dee's throat closed and his vision blurred.

"C'mon." Eurydice tugged him toward the storefront. "We'll go in together this time." She insinuated herself under his arm as they walked. "Mm. Dee blanket." She wriggled her fingers behind his back and under the cinched waist of his sweatpants. "Heh." She flinched when Dee opened the door and the bell's clarion call was worse than ever. "Jesus, what the fuck?"

SB sat on the glass countertop, hands clapped over her ears. Tomoe jumped off her stool behind the counter's cash register and waved them in. "Just move away from it!"

Dee and Eurydice jogged past a couple of aisles. The bell dampened its enthusiasm but still clamored for attention.

SB refused to move her hands away from the sides of her head. "Some things should stay at the bottom of the ocean."

Tomoe poked SB on the shoulder. "You were the one who did not go down on the Titanic."

"Only because the bed in our cabin was too narrow," SB protested.

Through the rose girl's translucent crystalline flesh, Dee caught a glimpse of Ursula bustling around in the supply closet behind the counter. "Ursula. For God's sake, be careful."

Tomoe looked petulant and was about to protest but Ursula answered, "Don't worry, I'm not going to buy anything. I'm just looking."

"Doesn't matter," Dee said, ignoring Tomoe's frantic waving. "Just going in there makes you—"

"Wait!" Tomoe cried, waving hard enough to flag down a semi-trailer truck.

"Hey…" Dee started, but trailed off when he noticed Tomoe was looking behind him, not at him. He turned to see Yves outside the front door, about to push his way in. He registered Tomoe's ducking behind the counter in the corner of his eye, but before he could react—

CLANG

—the bell's copper clapper thundered louder than a foundry hammer and a palpable wall of noise knocked the wind out him. Eurydice keeled over, viridian droplets scattering in buckshot burst patterns around her. The glass of the countertop, still veined with cracks from Dee's last visit, shattered and SB jackknifed down into the counter. A support strut in the supply closet gave way and a shelf dropped diagonal, its contents shifting sideways before pelting to the floor. Yves danced in a stinging shower of copper shrapnel.

Ursula leaped out of the closet. "Holy shit, everyone okay?"

"No," said Yves, plucking a metal sliver from the pad of his thumb. "I need a tetanus shot."

Tomoe peeped around the cash register, her face scrunched up. "Itai…itai…"

SB's feet dangled above her head. "I've got a sphygmomanometer up my ass." Something made a fluffing thump and she lisped, "Anth my dich in my mouf."

Dee bent over Eurydice lying prone on the floor and haloed in olive mist. "Honey?"

After a terrifying silence, Eurydice said, "I've been subwoofered." A galaxy of green dewdrops zipped around the linoleum floor like beads of mercury rolling over felt cloth, smashing together into spinning gyres one instant only to burst apart into smaller and smaller clusters the next. Dee knelt and stroked her cheek.

Yves selected a small First Aid kit from a window display and carried it to the intact half of the counter. He popped the kit open and fished out a bottle of antiseptic. A single spot of blood stood out against the kit's white plastic lid. "Mind if I take some freebies?" He dabbed an antiseptic-saturated pad of gauze on his palm.

Tomoe, still half-crouched behind the cash register, looked up at him and sighed, "Shikata ga nai."

"Oh, come off it," Yves said. "You're not Japanese." Further down the counter, SB spread her legs to get a good look at him, her mouth stuffed with the plump head of her own cock. He contemplated the spectacle in silence, then turned to Dee, and spoke to him in a slow, even deadpan. "I hate you. I hate you so very, very much."

"It's not my fault." Dee grasped at a green spheroid whizzing by but it squirted through his fingers, reformed, and rolled away. "I was perfectly happy being alone and miserable back at the bar. You were the one who decided to drop by and try and cheer me up, if you care to recall. Anyway, how do you know she's not Japanese?"

"Her accent, for one thing. It's completely muddled." Yves said. Tomoe rose up behind the cash register, her face a mask of indignation. "Her grammar, for another. No one says 'desu' so damn much. Not in real life, anyway."

Tomoe waggled a dismissive hand at him. "You're the wannabe poser, here, not me, blondie. You want to know what it's like to be Japanese?" She crooked her thumb at the supply closet behind her "I've some pickled ginseng that will knock your socks off in there." She glanced down at the clutter spilt around Ursula's feet at the mouth of the closet. "Down there, I guess. Hey, little sisters, watch what you step on. You break it, you pay five dollar, you got that?"

"'Kay." Ursula pussyfooted in Nyx's go-go boots over the pile. "We'll be careful." She froze, frowning down at the floor. "Hm?"

"I'll pass on the ginseng, thanks," Yves told Tomoe as Ursula bent down to push aside a few boxes of SRU-label anti-aging cosmetics.

Tomoe treated him to a trademark one-shoulder shrug. "What do you want then?" Dee thought the cock-blocked SB was watching Yves and Tomoe's interplay with a curious care. "You've got the look of a guy who hasn't been well-laid in a long time." Tomoe maneuvered around Ursula and pulled a SRU-labeled atomizer from the muddle on the floor. "How about some unisex body spray. Want some? For you? Five d—"

Yves raised an open palm. "I'm perfectly happy with who I am, thanks."

Tomoe rocked back on her heels, swooning as if Yves had slapped her across her face. SB's cheeks bulged with air and her cock bobbled free. "See?" she said as her massive member bowed backward. "I told you, he…" Her erectile gel-tissue bent back as far as it would go before popping right back into her mouth. "A wittle help here, pweath, thumb-buddy."

Tomoe searched Yves face. "You are." Her voice fell to a whisper. "You really, really are." Yves imitated Tomoe's one-shouldered shrug. Tomoe stared up at him a moment longer, then bit down on the curving, maroon-painted nail of her left index finger and gushed, "So do you wan' go clubbing?" She blushed and toyed with the hem of her white blouse.

Ursula tucked something bulky under her left arm and moved to help SB. She hesitated in reaching for SB's dick. Her hands, coated in glossy black, formal-wear gloves that stretched past her elbow to disappear beneath her poncho, paused and twitched around SB's mouthful of masculinity, as if testing various possibilities. "Um, not quite sure what to do here, exactly."

Dee felt the pit of his stomach drop and his ire rise. He started to mouth off but swallowed instead. "I can't believe this." Yves, Ursula, Tomoe, and SB turned to look at him. Still lying on the floor and surrounded by wayward gobbets of gel, Eurydice pulled off her sunglasses and gazed upward.

"For the first time in almost a week," Dee said, face burning, "I'm not the center of attention. And what do I do? I get angry. What the heck is wrong with me?"

Eurydice nabbed a squirming green sphere and slapped it into her mouth. "Admitting you have a problem is the first step to solving the problem," she said, chewing.

"Except," Yves added, "you just made yourself the center of attention again by doing so."

Ursula, with her head turned and grip unsteady, eased SB's dick out into the air. "Nnf, thanks." SB smiled. "Dee's still a work in progress. Wait, um, Ursula? I've also got this sphygmoma—"

Ursula skipped backward into the closet, the bulky found object still lodged in under her arm. "Nuh-uh." Tomoe sidled in front of her, eyes shining. She coughed, rolled up one sleeve, stepped up behind a now panick-stricken SB, and poked her tongue out of the corner of her mouth.

The front door heaved open and Raspberry peered inside. "Have you guys stopped blowing things up? Is it safe to come in yet?" The ruined remains of the doorbell fell off its hook, pierced Raspberry's surface tension and lodged itself in her translucent, empty brainpan. "Ouch-fuck!"

Eurydice swallowed her mouthful as CeeCee pushed a smarting Raspberry into the store. Eurydice hummed in thought, waiting. She gasped and grabbed at Dee's muscle shirt. "Dee!" She arched and fell back, her drab hoodie melting to reveal trembling gem fire flesh. "Oh, God, Dee…I re-remember. You squeezed me, all of me, in your fist, until I came apart into itty bitty pieces."

"Holy cow, Galatea," Tomoe said after getting her first good look at the green girl's face and slender shoulders. "You look barely legal. Apart from the knockers." A glistening bulb of a blood pressure cuff dangled from Tomoe's sleeve-rolled arm. SB, woozy and cross-eyed, toppled free of the counter only to fall backward behind it.

"Call me Eurydice." A green globule trundled by her head and Eurydice was captivated. Her emerald irises sharpened into diamond wedges as she watched the globule's erratic movements with a silent, feline intensity. Dee smirked and cornered the blobby escapee with his arms. He smooshed it against his palms and rolled it between his fingers before releasing it on the floor, where it reformed and wobbled away. Eurydice pounced on the dizzy blob. "C'mere you little goober." She gobbled it whole and sat like a cat, bare breasts squashed between her down-thrust arms. The re-remembrance struck her. She whimpered and wept as she came, fat drops of nectarous perspiration running between her tits and clenched thighs. She recovered and leered heavy-lidded at Dee. "Again."

Tomoe shook her head. "Incredible."

Raspberry teetered around the store's first aisle, the copper clapper lodged behind her eyes. She started chanting in rhyme. "They are neither man nor woman, they are neither brute nor human…" CeeCee, expression inquisitive, moseyed after her and Raspberry lurched at her, shaking CeeCee into froth by the shoulders. "To the groaning of the bells, to the moaning of the bells, to the—get this fucker out of my head right fucking now—bells bells bells bells bells bells bells!"

Dee squeezed another green sphere into spiraling ribbons before letting it reform. Eurydice purred and lunged but Dee swiped it away and popped it in his mouth. Eurydice pouted and whined as Dee rolled the tart treat around on his tongue and worried it with his teeth. Her protestations soon died in her throat as Dee worked and worked but did not swallow. Dee sat back. "Kith me," he lisped, his mouth full of memories.

Eurydice sprang into his lap. She cupped his jaw with both of her hands and French-kissed him so hard he felt it in his toes. She broke the searing kiss and had just enough time to lick Dee's lips clean before the re-remembrance hit. Eurydice collapsed against him, burying her head in the hollow beneath Dee's neck and pawing at his back. "I love you," she wept as each spasm of orgasm wracked through her. "I love you. I love you!"

Yves leaned conspiratorially close to Tomoe. "I think she loves him."

CeeCee espied Dee and Eurydice's blistering lip-lock while Raspberry accelerated her fevered, rhyming assault, a rapper demented by mescaline. "How it swells! How it dwells! On the future how it tells of the rapture that impels to the swinging to the ringing of the bells, bells, bells—help!"

CeeCee slammed her mouth over Raspberry's. Raspberry froze rigid as a mellow yellow tongue lolled between her trembling lips. "Mmf? Mmm…" The tongue filled the cavity of Raspberry's mouth like a blooming sunflower. Raspberry's surface tension melted and slicked. "Hm? Nn!" The molten cream poured down her throat, a sluggish, internal waterfall visible but hazy in Raspberry's translucent neck and chest. CeeCee reached through the orchid petals shrouding Raspberry's pubic mound, matted with damp. Raspberry's perplexed cries dissolved into eager pleas.

Raspberry raptured. Sugar-sherbet-satin imbrued her pussy and boiled inward. Buttercream tendrils questing down from her throat collided with the lemon-yellow upsurge from her sex. CeeCee kissed harder and mushier, muffling Raspberry's screaming orgasm. The lavender girl's core achieved critical meltdown as she came. She lost all cohesion, liquefying in moments, her face mask of bliss before CeeCee's ravening mouth inhaled Raspberry's one hundred and twenty gelatinous pounds as easy as a party girl slurping down a single Jell-O shot.

"I told you we go together well," CeeCee said, smoothing out the gentle swelling of her belly, now tinged in soft oranges, reds, and golds, a tummy full of sunsets. She pressed a chubby thumb and forefinger between her peach-stained lips and drew out the destructed bell's old copper clapper. She flourished the clapper at the crowd gathered by the counter. "Now that's what I call a real show-stopper." But Eurydice sobbed her tenth "I love you" with no end in sight and still held the room in thrall. CeeCee folder her arms under the jutting prow of her matronly bosom. "How do you like that. Upstaged by a freshly squeezed fruit. Bet that bint's a cam-whore." CeeCee startled. "Raz, you stupid shitlick, get your dumb-ass thoughts out of my fucking head."

Dee held Eurydice tight against him until there were no more I-love-yous. He could feel the pulsation of the green girl's lightning-strike climaxes as bursts of penetrating heat radiating from deep with her. She clutched and bucked with each pulse, her gel-flesh squashing against him in smooching waves. The onslaught of re-remembered sensations finally relented, and after one last, juddering, "I love, I love you, Dee," she released his neck and curled into a fetal hug in his lap, weeping openly. "Don't leave me. Don't let me leave. Don’t look back."

Dee raised his head. Ursula and Yves, his wry smile long gone, looked paler than ghosts. SB pressed a fist hard against her mouth with her other hand. Only Tomoe, tears tracing the line of a cheekbone, dared to look him in the eye.

"Help us," Dee told her.

"I'm sorry." Tomoe dried her cheek with the palm of her hand. "I can't."

Dee blinked. "Um. Please?"

Standing close to Tomoe, Yves added, "We haven't told you what's been happening yet."

Tomoe gave Ursula the once-over, taking in the lustrous rubber collar with matching onyx gloves and hip-hugging go-go boots. Ursula blushed and busied herself with straightening out the closet. Tomoe nodded at CeeCee waddling into the maternity aisle, her surface whorled with hues of amber, amaretto, and port wine. "Considering how crowded it is in here, I'd say that the thickener's fallen into the wrong hands, as the cliché goes."

Eurydice sniffled and twisted in Dee's lap, settling with her back nestled into his chest, the tips of her spiky hair winding around his chin. "The worst possible hands."

SB limped out from behind the counter. "You know there's nothing T can do about that. She told Dee that whatever happened to the nanomek was on his head, his karma, remember?"

"No, I don't remember." Eurydice reached up behind her, massaging Dee's neck. "But I do know you," she told SB. "I know you of old. How?"

"That was a long ago." SB shrugged. "Different time, different country…different flavors. Things echo."

"And she calls me cryptic." Tomoe muttered to Yves.

"I guess she learned from the best," Yves answered.

Tomoe swatted his shoulder. "Don't flirt with me unless you want to get into my pants."

Yves glanced down. "What's your size?"

"Oh, hardy-har-fucking har-har." She sounded as sardonic as ever but she wilted under Yves' icy regard, twiddling her thumbs and toying with her hair. "Listen, Dee knows the deal." She noticed SB staring daggers at her and stage whispered, "What?"

Dee nodded. "I'm responsible for all of this. I done fucked up, I know it, and I plan to fix it. That's not what we're here for."

"Okay," Tomoe said. "I'm listening."

"Alright." Dee drew a ragged breath. "You probably know all this anyway but here goes. You told me that by buying the thickener I started a story that had one of two endings: the Disney happy ending and the Grimm cautionary one. Well, Galatea tried to give me—to get us—the Disney ending. I told her I trusted her, so she believed me and put me along the path. Turns out I didn't really trust after all." Dee squeezed Eurydice and kissed the top of her head. "If I did, I wouldn't have freaked out when I realized I'd eaten raw nanomek."

SB backpedaled away from Dee until she banged her butt against the counter. "Whoa. You what?"

Dee turned Eurydice around in his lap. "Eurydice, I know you don't remember, and I know you don't want to remember, but we spent two whole days together that I don't remember, so hear me out." Eurydice shivered but said nothing. "When we had our fight, I accused you of force-feeding me the thickener. I accused you but I never let you answer." Dee held her hand in his. Eurydice stared down at it. "That's not what really happened, was it?" After a long pause, Eurydice shook her head. "I ate the nanomek myself, didn't I? It was my idea all along, wasn't it?"

The silence stretched. Eurydice crinkled her forehead in confusion, querying her memory-web for re-remembrances that were not entirely her own.

"…Fuck all you want," the green girl had said, "I'll make more."

Dee sprawled unconscious on the floor of the apartment kitchenette, his face, chest, and crotch slavered in lime gelatin. The hollow green girl stood astraddle his prostrate form. The early morning sunlight streaming in from the kitchenette bay window gave the green girl her first good look at the full package known as "Deiter Detwiler." Tall and skinny but more sinewy than lanky. A cute, boyish face under a nest of chestnut brown curls that could be considered handsome if he would stop making goofy expressions. The one he was wearing now, for instance, with his mouth slack and eyes rolled back, gave her giggles. His cum, on the other hand, was no laughing matter. It spread over the inner surface of her elastic, glass-bottle green shell, working into every nook and cranny. "Whatever your name is," the green girl told the comatose Dee, "I gotta tell you: your cum tastes fan-fucking-tastic." An electric tingle shot through her thin, air-inflated substance. "Wait, what's going on?"

The green girl experienced her first nanogasm. "Woo! That was fun. Oh, it's happening again. And, uh, again?" Her hands fluttered about her throat as the little sparks of pleasure grew in strength and frequency, building into a cascade. "H-hey, bright boy?" She gently nudged Dee's ribs with a fuck-me-pump covered foot. He murmured and turned his head, eyes unopened. "What's happening? Why's it feel so—ah—so damn good?"

The cascade crested and crashed. "Oh my God!" She pulled her hands away from her neck. Her arms, mobile sculptures of hollow, hand-blown glass, began to fill with gel. The green girl felt the inner growth as a delicious, empowering pressure, as strong as a bear hug and as penetrative as the deepest French kiss, starting with the tips of fingers and thumbs and pushing down through her palms, into her wrists, and past her elbows. It stopped short of her shoulders. "Oh my God." She fell to her knees beside Dee, still whimpering to the Heavens, or maybe to him, she was not sure. "Oh my God, oh my God. Oh, we've got to do that again." She crawled over to his crotch. Relishing the newfound strength of her jelled arms, she unzipped Dee's fly and yanked his pants down around his thighs. "I can't wait to feel that in my tits." Dee's erection bobbed free of his underwear. "Wow, you're hard again. Hey, bright boy, you awake?"

Dee lolled his head, eyes still closed, and spoke in a dreamy, distant voice. "If I'm not awake then this is the best wet dream I've ever had and I don't want to wake up."

"Good enough for me." She scuttled between Dee's spread-eagled legs, rolling up mock sleeves into rings around her upper arms. "Let's see what these babies can do." She held out one palm, now filled with gelatin the color of toothpaste gel, and brushed it against the very tip of Dee's cock, taking careful measure like an expert golfer needing to make birdie on the 18th hole. She reared her hand back, palm flat. "Ready for more Fleshlight Technique?"

"No," Dee whispered, and the green girl deflated, brow crinkled in confusion until he said, "but that's the best part."

The green girl grinned, shark-toothed, and drove her hand down onto his dick. The surface tension of her palm gave inward. Hard, it's so damn hard. The thought—It's so hard—bounced around her memory web. From an inner recess of her mind, an echo replied distorted: Not hard enough. She felt the surface of her palm stretch to swaddle the head of Dee's cock in cool, smooching gel. Not enough—Maybe never enough. I want him inside me—All of him inside me. She pushed her hand down his shaft until her fingers squelched into his scruffy pubic hair. The green girl let her palm's surface split. Dee's dick eased into her inner gel. There was no pain, no sense of invasion or breaking of limits. The green girl felt only more of that delicious pressure as the displacement, solidity, and warmth of the cock throbbing within her hand (and then wrist, and then forearm), whipped her inner gel into a piping hot frenzy. She pumped her arm up and down. Dee's dick scratched and soothed a burning itch somewhere deep inside her, an itch she had not known existed until it was gone. I want him inside me but this will do for now, oh yes it will oh it's so fucking solid! Ooh, what's this ooh precum yes ooh nanogasm yes ooh he's cumming! "Yes!"

"Yes!" Dee echoed and thrashed as he came, arms sweeping across the floor.

The green girl's inner gel worked to milk, massage, and spread Dee's spunk throughout her jellied mass. Not as much as last time, she thought, and the distorted echo answered, Not enough not ever enough. I guess I'll have to take it slow—Have to slowly take it all. She felt him soften and she pulled her arm off his shaft. The seam of the breach in her palm plumped into smacking lips. "Hot damn," her hand said. "Why are we stopping?"

Dee drew his arms to his heaving chest, the tin of SRU thickening agent cradled in one hand.

Nanogasms cascaded through the green girl's gel flesh. She felt as if a giant tongue were French kissing its way down her throat via the top of her head. The empty tubes of her hair, stubby petal-tentacles of a mutant sea anemone, filled into jellied dreadlocks. Cross-eyed, she flopped down onto Dee's stomach. The green girl, her head filling with gel the way rising dough fills a cake pan, found their worldless chorus—Oof!—inexplicably hilarious. Three glutinous giggles escaped her lips: "Ah-hah, ah-hum, hm-mm."

The geek and the green girl panted in a huddle on the floor. The green girl sat up in a huff, tucking her skirt under her knees. Dee propped himself up by the elbows, head wobbling. "Whuzzit?"

The green girl clutched her swollen tits and squeezed. They squeaked exactly like toy balloons. "My boobs are still empty. Aw, dammit." She squirmed, rolling her rubbery breast flesh between her fingers and bouncing up and down on her butt like an impatient kindergartner during naptime. "I wanna make 'em bigger."

Dee fell back onto the floor. "Lord all-mighty," he sighed, draping the hand holding the tin of thickening agent over his eyes. "I think I'm in love."

The green girl gaped. Her mouth worked in silence. The shock at the concept of love gave way to the curious and new sensation of lush lips scraping over semi-solid teeth and a weighty tongue filling her mouth. Filling her mouth, what a splendid idea. She scooted back down toward Dee's beslimed crotch. "Now that I've got a head," she said, bending close enough to buffet Dee's deflated dick with her sultry breath, "maybe it's time for me to give a little."

Dee pulled the tin off his face, protesting. "W-wait a minute…" The green girl ignored his words and mashed her face over his cock. She tasted her own nectar, caked and cooling like batter on his shaft, but she spun her tongue three hundred and sixty degrees around his softened manhood a few times and hoovered it clean. Dee's distinct flavor permeated her, a cornucopia of earthy musk, cum, sweat, salt, and soap. Good, so good, he tastes so good—More, much more, taste him more. She squished her head over his crotch and her molten mouth engulfed his root, balls, and all. The stretchy, thick locks of her hair lashed around his thighs and ass. Say, she thought, he's got a cute butt, and the little echo replied, Shut up and eat it.

Dee kicked and scuffed the floor. "Stop it. Ah, Jesus. Stop!"

The green girl decoupled from his cock. The seal between her lips and his flesh burst with the smacking pop and slush of an uncorked bottle of shaken Champaign. "Wha'fuck?" Her vortex throat foamed and gurgled as she slurred, "You were just starting to get hard."

Dee whistled through gritted teeth. "Afterglow. I tried…I mean, I want…but I can't, I can't."

"Hey," the green girl cooed, mushing her hand around his cock in slow, sloppy circles, noting his legs and stomach spasm on each upstroke, "It's okay. It happens to everybody, right? We'll take it slow. After all, the Demonic Fifteen Point Fleshlight Palm Technique lasts forty-eight…"

"No." Dee's free hand snapped around her wrist. "I want more, now. Don't you?"

The little echo in the back of the green girl's mind took the initiative: Ooh, I like the way he thinks. She stole a sly glance at her cleavage, hunching her shoulders until her breasts squeaked. More, now! "Sure, but how? I mean, your mouth says 'Yes' but…" She squelched her fingers over his balls. "Your body says 'No no no please God no.' I mean, I feel your nuts trying to crawl back up into your pelvis."

Dee held the thickener aloft. "What about this?"

Uh oh. The green girl shrugged. "What about it?"

"It made you, didn't it?"

He made you. You made you. "I guess so."

Dee turned the tin, inspecting it from every angle. "What does it do?"

Anything you want, nothing you wish. She twirled a finger through his slick pubic hair. "Dunno."

"But it made your Jell-O thick, right?" The powder inside the tin skittered and scratched. "So maybe it will make my, um, you know…"

"Your dick hard?" the green girl finished, grinning. "Where'd you get an idea like that?"

Dee glared up at her, askance. "I write Internet porn." He said it as if it explained everything. "Well?" He let go of her hand and pried the tin's lid loose with his fingernails.

"You're serious?" Many have tried. "I…I think it might be dangerous or something."

"I've seen this movie," Dee said. The lid clattered on the floor. "So let me skip to the end: 'Many have tried.' 'Tried and failed?' 'Tried and died.' Right?"

Many have tried and wished they'd died. "Kinda sorta almost." Dee struggled to sit up and keep the tin level. She let go of him and edged back. "You're really serious?" Maybe he can do it. Maybe he can beat it. Maybe he's the one. "I mean, are you sure?" She could not hide her rising excitement. The skirt cinched around her waist softened and ran like treacle. The kitchen swam with the aroma of citrus and sex. "You…you've got to be sure."

"For this?" He clicked the tin on the linoleum floor to stroke her cheek. "For you?" His hand came away sparkling with dots and spots of emerald. "I'm as sure as Hell. Hell, yes. Fuck, yes. For you, anything, always."

Dee seized the small tin. Please let him do it. He rubbed a pinch of the nanomek between his fingers. Please let him be the one. Dee licked his dusty thumb, smacked his lips in thought, and smiled. I really, really like this one and I've waited so long…

"You taste much better," he said, and tipped the tin into his mouth.

The green girl cascaded into nanogasm, hot gel rushing and gushing and breaking the mould.

Update 01/05/07

Dee sat on SRU's checker-tiled floor, waiting for Eurydice's answer. She took his hand in both of hers and curled herself around it, snuggling to his lap. She rubbed his wrist with her thumbs and would not look up at the crowd staring at her. Dee asked her again, "It was my idea to eat the nanomek all along, wasn't it?"

Eurydice shifted in his lap. She spoke in the tones of a toddler. "Yeah."

Tomoe slumped against the cash register, making it ping and ring up a NO SALE. "Why. Why? Didn't you see how much kuzbu he had already?"

"Yeah," Eurydice repeated in that same aw-shucks kiddy voice.

"Kudzu? What?" Dee said.

"Kuzzz…buuu." Tomoe over-enunciated, as if confident slow and careful speech would activate her universal translator.

Ursula poked her head out of the closet. "Oh, so that's what it is. Good to know."

SB shook her head. "His yang was so out of whack and you just go ahead and give him more?"

"Wait, his yang was whacked? That makes no sense," Ursula said.

"Did she say 'yang' or 'wang'?" Dee asked Eurydice.

Eurydice giggled and nested further into his lap. "I love you."

Yves stormed into the middle of the mob. "Would everyone just…shut the fuck up for one second and let me think?"

"Woo!" A slippery slick Raspberry glissaded out of the maternity aisle, zooming across the tiled floor. "Gangway!" She zipped by on her back faster than an Olympic luge, smashed into a display stack of athletic equipment and vanished in an avalanch of boxes. "Fuck."

Yves waited for the last box to tumble to a standstill before continuing. "Okay, let me get this straight: Dee ate the nanomek of his own free will, but apparently can't remember doing it or anything else during those two days. Right?" He turned to Eurydice, who nodded. "Dee had lots of, uh, 'kuzbu,' which—no, wait, let me guess—is probably some old word meaning destiny, or the Force, or maybe just Really Great Ass, right?" He turned to Ursula.

"Right. Actually," Ursula admitted, "that's a good translation. It kind of means all three." She disappeared back into the supply closet.

Yves leveled a finger at SB. "And that all somehow relates to the yin and yang of ancient Chinese philosophy and medicine, meaning the I-Ching is really about sex with goo girls."

SB shrugged. "Isn't everything?"

"So that's why women can't keep their hands off me?" Dee asked, blush rising as he realized how stupid that sounded even to his own ears.

"No." Tomoe shoved the cash register's till closed. "That's your own damn fault."

"Look!" Raspberry stumbled out of the pile of equipment, adjusting a swatch of fabric over her left eye. "I'm a pirate."

CeeCee strolled out of the maternity aisle. "That's a jockstrap."

Raspberry advanced on CeeCee, brandishing athletic supporters in both hands. "Get aboard you fat buccaneer." CeeCee retreated into the maternity aisle but Raspberry followed. "You are a pirate," she promised.

Dee brushed a green dreadlock away from his ear. It darted under his chin to tickle the other one. "My fault? How do I stop it?"

"Do you want to stop it," SB asked, tapping a finger against her lips. "Or do you want to control it?"

Tomoe narrowed her eyes at SB. That was a clue, Dee realized as SB shrugged again. SB just gave me a clue. What did she mean? Isn't stopping it the same thing as controlling it? Only if I want to be able to turn it back on once I turn it off…Do I? "Oh my God, I do," Dee said aloud. "I do want to control it. Eurydice." He pulled away from her to look her in the eye. "Eurydice, I like it. I like my kudzu. Is that okay?"

Eurydice goggled at him before dissolving into giggles, a host of dreadlocks swarming in to tickle his ears. "Kudzu, kudzu, kudzu," she teased, her sap green hair crawling everywhere like vines.

"Huh," Tomoe said as Dee toppled backward onto the floor and Eurydice skooched up to sit on his chest and continue her tickle attack with hair and hands. "How about that. Kawaii lime. Now there's a flavor I never thought of."

Ursula strut out of the closet. "I can't believe that's our Dee. I mean, he made his girlfriend multi-orgasmic in public. What's happening to him?"

"He's getting tickled to death by creeper vines," Yves said. The blades of Eurydice's hair stretched longer and longer, hunting out ticklish spots, until some discovered the waist of his pants and dove beneath. "Make that molested by creeper vines," Yves added.

Eurydice leaned to breathe in Dee's ear even as her hair pulled, massaged, and pumped in his crotch behind her. "Kudzu, kudzu, kudzu."

Tomoe plucked at the buttons of her blouse then quickly turned away. "I got to stop watching before I develop a new fetish. Hey, wait a minute." She pointed to the bulge under Ursula's poncho. "What's that?"

"This? Oh, we found it on the floor." Ursula went fishing under her poncho and pulled out the fat Sudoku puzzle book. She held the ungainly thing in two jet-black, gloved hands. "We weren't going to steal it, or anything. It just looked interesting."

"Pfft, that old thing?" Tomoe waved her dismissal. "They used to make them much harder in the old days. The last magic squares were so easy I didn't even bother. I should just throw it out, but SB paid like twenty dollar for it on Amazon."

SB was engrossed in watching Dee's sweatpants stretch and twist as more dreadlocks found their way between his legs. "Meh." She glanced down. "Ooh, dang, anyone got a tarp or something?"

Ursula plunked the thick book down next to the cash register. "I have a twenty in my pocket—oh." Her glove rippled and a twenty dollar bill unfurled in the palm of her hand. "I mean, I've got a twenty right here."

"It's used." Tomoe protested. "It's only got one section left. It's stupid." She sighed, her inscrutable smile indistinguishable from a frown. "But you want it? For you? Five dollar."

"Kudzu," cooed Eurydice as Dee's legs began to tremble. "Kudzu, kudzu, kud…zu." Dee gulped and groaned. Eurydice's caresses slowed but Dee still spasmed on each luxurious upstroke of the nest of living dreadlocks pumping at his crotch. "Yes, Dee, it's okay to like your kudzu. But this…" She tugged her head. Her tentacled hair took up slack. Dee yawped and laughed and arched his pelvis high. "This is Mine."

Dee leered. "Always."

Update 01/10/07

Ursula upended her palm and the twenty dollar bill flittered down. Tomoe snagged it out of the air and rang up SALE on the cash register in a single swoop. "Done!"

Dee's smile twisted into a wince. "Oh shit." Jelly tentacles unwound all around him but Eurydice still perched on his chest. "Who bought something?"

"Relax," Tomoe said. "It's just a dumb magic square book." She counted out Ursula's change. "One five dollar, two five dollar, three five dollar. Here you go. You want a bag?"

"No thanks." Ursula tucked the puzzle book under her poncho. She pulled her hands free but the square bulge under the cashmere coverall slid across her belly and settled near the curve of her hip. "We're set."

Eurydice bounced a bit on Dee's chest, tugging on the collar of his shirt. "Kudzu?"

Dee goosed her thigh. "Just a one more question, honey." Eurydice pouted and stood up, morphing her glimmering flesh back into the drab olive Unabomber guise but leaving Dee's muscle shirt tie-dyed green and reeking of citrus-and-sex.

Tomoe pried a lump of beeswax from her ear. "Better ask quick before she sits on your face to shut you up." She sighed. "That's what I'd do." She watched SB mutter and tug at the hem of her one-piece, stretching it tight over her tented prick. "I'd sit on something, anyway."

Dee sat up as Tomoe cleaned beeswax from her other ear. "Wait. I don't know how to control it yet."

"Sure you do," SB said, drawing the dress snug around her balls.

"I do?"

"You know you want it, right?" The copper-colored material popped up to let the base of her shaft peep out as soon as SB let go. "Dang it."

"Yes. I want to keep my kuzbu." Eurydice gasped and narrowed her eyes. Dee winked at her. "I'm a kudzu kind of guy."

"That's all there is to it," SB said.

Yves nodded. "Like ki. Once you find it, it's yours to control. It will come when you call."

Somewhere among the aisles, Raspberry barked out a single, raspy, "Ha!"

"Hey," Tomoe said to SB, "remember all that 'can't interfere' stuff I keep talking about?"

SB pursed her lips as if she knew what was coming. "Yeah."

"Well, you're doing it wrong."

"Why?" Dee rose. "Why can't you help?" Tomoe shrugged and opened her mouth but this time Dee knew exactly what was coming and cut her off. "And don't just say 'rules,' or 'I lost the manual,' or some other bullshit. Galatea tried to get us the Disney lovey-dovey ending and I fucked it up. I gave away the nanomek. Now there's this three hundred pound, chocolate cherry psycho-bitch running around, kidnapping my girlfriend, mindfucking skank-bots and killing and eating people in some elaborate scheme to take over the world just because she thinks I don't pay enough attention to her."

Eurydice reached for him, silent and starry eyed. Dee moved close and Eurydice gathered him into her arms, rubbing her cheek against his back. "Tomoe," Dee said, "you told me the point of the Disney ending was for the lonely guy to learn the true meaning of love. Well, unless the true meaning of love is either 'chicks dig confidence' or 'Fatal Attraction is real,' I don't feel like I've learned a damn thing." He spun in Eurydice's arms and kissed her soft and sweet. "I love Galatea and I love Eurydice. They are the same and they are different in a way I don't understand. But it doesn’t matter if I'll never understand, because the one thing I do know is much more important: right now, neither of them are happy. I made them happy, once, before I ruined everything. I want them to be happy again. So I've just got one question." Dee steeled himself, gave Eurydice a final squeeze, and bellied up to the counter to look Tomoe square in the eye.

"What the Hell is going on?" he said.

Tomoe bumped the cash register till closed. It pinged. "There are some thing's even I don't know, Deiter."

Yves rapped a knuckle hard on the countertop, a move Dee had seen before whenever Yves wanted everyone at work to know he was pissed off. "A true but useless statement. Dee's right, you don't lie. But you don't answer anyone's questions in the way they expect, either. Well, too bad. I know about the third ending already."

Relief washed over Dee. "You've figured it out," he said. "Took you long enough."

"Just the basics." Blood blotted the cotton gauze bandage on Yves' palm. He rummaged through the first aid kit and began to redress the wound. "And I figured it out a few hours ago, actually, when you were quickening Eurydice." He dropped the used gauze into the wax paper disposal bag that came folded inside the first aid kit. "Well, Tomoe?"

Tomoe gave him a curt nod. "What does 'sublime' mean, Dee?"

Dee did not hesitate. "Vaporize."

"Vaporize, right," Yves said, binding his palm with a fresh bandage. "That's what I first thought of, too." He smiled. "I guess we both took English for Engineers in college. But that isn't the only meaning. Eurydice told me that most guys who made lime meliae sublime that way, though, right?" Eurydice nodded. "But every once in a while, someone sublimes the other way."

Ursula darkened the storage closet door. "In alchemy, 'to sublime' means 'to ennoble' or purify."

"Tomoe, you called nanomek 'techno-alchemical,'" Dee remembered. "So which 'sublime' did you mean?"

"Both." She shrugged, one shouldered. "How could I say for sure? No one's ever gone lime first time before. Even the most brazen had to work their way up from honey or vanilla—or chocolatl if you were an Aztec."

"That was all before artificial flavor packets and high fructose corn syrup," SB admitted, smiling. "There could be more lime guys out there now than you or I ever imagined, T."

"I don't get it," Dee said. "What is there to purify? I'm a computer geek. I write porn. I've got almost every fetish there is to get on the Internet. I'm a pervert. I'm just…" Dee spread his arms. "…I'm just me."

Eurydice arched a brow. "And Mine."

"Very funny." Dee frowned. There was something Galatea had said, when he stormed out on her. What was it?

"…you aren't changing…"

"Look at that," Tomoe said, "you can almost see him thinking."

"…What kind of name is Deiter Detwiler…"

"Still waters run deep," Ursula declared.

"…Maybe you just didn't know who you really were before now…"

"I've always hated that expression," Yves said.

"…Don't tell me. You never know when a secret identity might come in handy…"

"Yeah, me too," SB agreed. "Still waters don't run deep. Still waters don't run."

"…Fire can't burn me, iron can't break me…"

Yves and SB grinned like idiots at each other and chorused, "Or else they wouldn't be still."

"…Yves, you're a kung fu badass…"

"It's just an aphorism," Ursula murmured, soothing the thick rubber collar around her neck.

"…I'm a pharmaceutria. A sorceress. I'm a witch…"

"I can't see shit!" Raz bumbled out of an aisle, two jockstraps tied over her eyes.

"…Shut up and let Sherlock do his thing…"

"We're not perverts," Dee said under his breath, looking at all his friends in turn.

"…We didn't expect a...band, or league, or whatever it is you've put together…"

Eurydice crept up and took his hand. "What did you say?"

"…you aren't changing…"

"We're not perverts," Dee told her, kissed her, and told everyone. "We're superheroes."

"…you're just becoming more you…"

Eurydice asked, "There's a difference?"