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Novilunium

It's Always Time

Act One	(d/l)
Act Two	(d/l)
Act Three	(d/l)
Act Four	(d/l)
Act Five	(d/l)
Act Six	(d/l)
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Unyx's Send-off

A taxicab ambled down Campion Street. A green Volkswagen sped passed in the opposite direction, its windows burned in the brightness just before sunset. The cab's passenger, a redheaded coed, squinted from the glare. She sat in borrowed clothes rustled up from her stay at the state police station. The baggy sweatshirt and jeans reeked of cigarettes. At least she had underwear on again, even if they were voluminous granny-panties.

The cab rounded the bend of the cul de sac. "Hey," the redhead said, "that's my car! Aw, man, what happened to it?" The yellow SUV, windows smashed, roof rumpled, sat in front of the sorority house. She glanced around. Other than the SUV, the cul de sac looked abandoned. "Huh. No FedEx truck. Good sign."

"You talk to yourself a lot," the cabbie observed. "What they pick you up for? PI?"

"PN," she said, "public nudity." She tossed him a twenty and hopped out before the cabbie could comment further.

Dozens of skimpy Friday newspapers piled around the porch steps. "Weird." The redhead unlocked the front door, poked her head into the dark foyer and halloed. "Is it safe? I heard the message on my cell." She stepped inside, hunting for the hall light-switch. She looked down. "Oh, hello. Who're you?"

"Ursula's a good name," said a girl with a massive pair of pigtails, thick handlebars tufted with big black pompoms. She looked barely old enough to drive, tarted up in white cake makeup in and black lip and eyeliner.

"Art, or theater major?" the redhead asked, squinting at Ursula's outfit, black patent leather club gear.

"Post-grad," grinned Ursula, turning. "Women's Studies. C'mon!" She skipped out into the main hall.

Don't look at her ass. The redhead followed, frowning. "We're we going?" Don't look at her ass Ursula flounced up the main stairwell. Oh my God, just look at that ass. And what did she do, paint those pants on? "Um, little girl?"

Ursula froze. Her outfit seemed to ripple in the shadowy half-light. "Yeah?"

"What happened?"

Ursula shrugged, an uncanny, almost liquid rise and fall of her shoulders; another trick of the light, perhaps. "Good guys won," she said, and started back up the stairs. "Duh. Don't they always?"

The redhead ascended after her. "So where is everyone?"

"Done a bunk. Bugged out. Vamoosed." Ursula whistled through her teeth and zipped her hand through the air.

"Why?"

Ursula reached the top of the stair and spun about, lips pursed. "Because I asked them to." The redhead's stomach flip-flopped. Ursula shook her head, raised a finger as pale as her face. "Ah, ah! Asked them to. 'Asked.' Not sang." She strut down the hallway, boots clicking on the hardwood.

"How?" The redhead swallowed, then hurried to catch up. "How did you know about that?"

"We know all sorts of stuff," Ursula said, stopping at a closed door. "And here we are."

"But this is my bedroom," the redhead said.

"Really?" Ursula tipped her head. "Gosh." The door opened by itself. "After you, Madam Secretary."

A strawberry blonde squat on the vanity bench, FedEx cap twirled backward on her head, like a relief pitch waiting in a dugout. "Hi!"

Relieved to see a familiar face, the redhead rushed into the room. "What're you doing here?"

"I can't get enough of it," the strawberry blonde answered, plopping her chin into her palm, "but you're the last one, and that makes me sad. But Unyx said she was going to make it really special." She perked up, reaching to the vanity and clicking off the table lamp. The room gloomed. "And that makes me happy."

"Who?"

"Unyx." The strawberry blonde pointed to Ursula, who had slipped into the room as soon as the light when off, closing the door behind her. "You, know: snippy-snippy."

Ursula burst into giggles. "Not eunuchs. Unyx. U and Nyx."

Finally, something she understood. "Like the computer operating system thing," said the redhead.

Ursula gulped down a giggle. "Wait. The what?"

"UNIX, right?"

Ursula stared in the dark, then shook her fists around her head. "Ooh, dammit. They never told us! No wonder Yves and Dee kept smirking whenever we said it!"

"I'm lost again," the redhead groaned, flumping onto her bed.

"Nope." The strawberry blonde whipped off her cap and ruffled her hair. "You landed on target."

Ursula glided into the room. "We want to talk to you about Chapter Regulation 700: Citizenship, Morality, and Values."

Does she have rollerskates in those boots or something? "That's Reg 600."

The strawberry blonde shook her head. "She knows the real one."

"Regulation 700," Ursula said, coming to a stop at the foot of the bed. "No licky-licky."

"So that's what this is all about?" The redhead clucked and lay back with her hands behind her head. Another dyke bitchfest.

"That, and stopping the blood music," Ursula said, folding her arms. Twice.

The redhead sat up. "Holy shit, you can do that?" Ursula nodded. "Oh, thank God. It's been so strange lately. I feel so, I dunno, disconnected, like I'm…"

"On automatic pilot," Ursula suggested.

"Yeah? Please, make it go away? I'll do any—Oh." A chill stole over her. "No. No fucking way."

The strawberry blonde sighed, standing up. "Well, here's the thing. While you were gone, the rest of us took a vote. And it was unanimous." She crossed the room to stand beside Unyx, putting her left arm around her. "No more Reg 700." Unyx put her right arm around the strawberry blonde. Twice. "No more code red hazing."

"Doesn't matter," the redhead smirked. "You couldn't have had a unanimous vote. I know two sisters' who'd never—"

"Jo Echo says you eat pussy like a pro," Ursula interrupted, eyebrow arched. "And she really knows her stuff. As for your cute blonde friend? Well, she and her huge tits got here an hour ago. I didn't even have to ask. So it's unanimous, except for you, Madam Secretary."

The strawberry blonde peeled out of her top. "But, you know, Unyx, the Chapter Secretary has to approve or veto every vote."

"That's right," the redhead said, scooting to the head of the bed in a protective huddle. "And I'll never change my mind. Never."

"Oh, I don't know." Ursula raised an arm and reached out. It reached and reached, stretching nine, ten feet to the wall switch. "Something tells me that it's time," Ursula said, and light flooded the room.

At first, the redhead wanted to scream. And then, she didn't. And a few minutes later, she was screaming her silly head off.

The Big Flashback

Yves and Dee were arguing in the copse of ruined trees at the edge of the wide flowerbed. Eurydice followed the fleeing Raspberry with her eyes, burned nanomek to smooth her ears into perfect parabolas, and tuned in, homing on Dee's dark vibrato.

"The decision has already been made, hasn’t it, Yves?" he said.

Yves' grin was mirthless. "I know that tone, Dee. You're starting a rehearsed hissy fit." Dee tried to protest but Yves cut him off. "'Bitch-bitch-bitch, walk out the door.' That means your leaving."

Icy panic seized Eurydice. She shut down, terrified to move, ready to shatter.

A warm hand enfolded her shoulder, soft and soothing, creamy satin. "Keep listening, honey," CeeCee urged. "If they wanted to be out of earshot, they would have driven two counties away."

Eurydice drew a ragged breath, nodded, and swiveled her ears like a cat.

"…So it has to be me," Yves was saying.

"Agreed," Dee said, nodding gravely. "Black Cherry wants to live in a story? Fine. We're going to give her one."

Yves rubbed his chin. "What do you mean?"

"Black Cherry's holding all the cards," Dee said, "but she's not playing with a full deck."

"A little less hissy fit drama, please," Yves insisted, "time's wasting."

"Fine," Dee smirked, then ticked off each point with his fingers. "I head off—alone—to Easy House. I distract Cherry, make sure she can't use Unyx's hair. You guys catch up—still have my keys? Good. So I distract Cherry. The Easies go on automatic pilot." He dropped his hand. "Out of fingers. Anyway, Easies go on automatic pilot, Unyx cures the Frenzy."

"How?" Yves cheek twitched. "This is another answer I don't want to know, isn't it?"

"Yes," Dee replied, "it really is. So Unyx cures the Frenzy. Raspberry finds Unyx's hair and the nanomek. CeeCee eats anybody trying to get away. You do…what you got to do."

"And you rescue Galatea," Yves said, brow furrowed.

"No," Dee said, "that's Eurydice's job." He turned to the flowerbed. Eurydice contemplated her feet. "If she wants it," Dee finished. He turned away and Eurydice popped her head up, eyes wide.

"Two problems with that plan," Yves countered. "One, Eurydice doesn't know if she wants Galatea back."

"And two," Dee sighed, "Galatea probably doesn't want to come back. CeeCee said Cherry was lying. What else could it be? Cherry's setting me up like a serial villain." Dee shrugged. "But the Frenzy has got to be stopped, and Eurydice deserves the chance to make up her mind about Galatea. Oh." Dee raised his voice. "And I don't know how Unyx's precognition really works, but Cherry can hear through her ears, so I sure hope she hasn't been listening to any of this."

Eurydice, almost frozen with anticipation, managed, "Unyx, don't start listening five minutes ago."

"'Kay," said Unyx, Raspberry's head resting on her shoulder.

"No games, Dee," Yves dismissed. "Do you want Galatea back?"

"I want her to be happy," Dee said, "I want Eurydice to be happy." Dee relented. "Yes. God, Yves, I want them both to be happy." His Adam's Apple bobbing, he whispered, "I want them to be happy with me." Dee stood in teary silence.

Yves softened. "Dee?"

Every iota of nanomek in Eurydice's body latched onto her sensory web, and billions of Eurydices listened to Dee's breathing deepen and slow. Dee nodded, then spoke with such sudden conviction Eurydice nearly cried out. "This is how it has to happen. I won't second guess her or Galatea any more. Whatever Eurydice does will be the right thing." Dee dried his face with his palm. "No looking back."

"You sure?" Yves asked, but he was already adjusting his scabbard, tightening the knot in his belt.

"Yes," Dee answered, and, as if it were the easiest thing in the world, he added, "I trust her."

Eurydice and the Emerald Penseive

Galatea's brow crinkled. "I should be able to share memories just by touch," she murmured, and Eurydice knew she had said it before, "but I haven't figured out how to do it yet."

"That's 'cause you have no limits, no boundaries," Eurydice said. "I do." She waggled her fingers. "Take my hand."

Galatea stretched toward her. Their fingertips brushed. Motes of silver and green light scintillated within, growing brighter and brighter as their hands entwined. Eurydice stood on tiptoe. Their linked hands outshone the sunlamps in an expanding flare of light. The two green girls' lips met and they outshone the Sun.

---

Eurydice watched the SUV pull away, drive under the overpass, up the onramp on the far side, and accelerate down the highway and out of sight. The engine's protests faded as the distance between her and Dee grew. Someone padded across the road behind her, quiet as a ghost. Eurydice spent a few thousand nanomek—she had so much now it frightened her, and she took every excuse to burn some—and heightened her hearing. She recognized the approaching heartbeat immediately.

"Eurydice?" Yves asked.

She turned to him, starry-eyed from weeping, her lips trembling.

"He didn't look back," she said.

Yves nodded, looking grim, until Eurydice bowled into him, laughing, "He didn't look back!" She grabbed Yves by the collar and tugged him into a friendly kiss and ferocious hug. She beamed, so happy she thought she might crack open. "Oh, Yves, he didn't look back." She blinked away tears. "He loves me."

Yves scowled, and in a patient, little voice he said, "Of course he does," and Eurydice laughed so hard she started crying again. "You were eavesdropping, then, I take it?"

"Huh?"

Yves made quotation marks in the air with his fingers. "Sounded like you two were having a Hell of an argument," he said in a passable imitation of Eurydice's voice. "Heard every word, didn't you?"

Eurydice hiccupped and sniffled, "Oh, yeah. 'Course I did." And that set off more laughter and waterworks.

Unyx sped toward them, running out of the field and across the road, boots whacking against pavement. A pair of wings unfolded from her back. The wings spread wide as they took shape, black feathers iridescent in indigo and midnight blue.

Raspberry raced behind her. "What the fuck is going on?"

Yves reached into his pants' pocket and drew out a set of stubby keys. He tossed them high. Unyx kicked off, great wings beating the air, snatching the keys before soaring up and banking above the overpass.

"Wow," Eurydice breathed.

Raspberry skidded to a halt. "You guys. Seriously: what-the-fuckage." She glared upward. "We're just standing there and suddenly Unyx gets this 'I-left-the-porn-in-the-DVD-player' look on her face, does a runner." Unyx circled higher until she appeared no bigger than a crow. "Next thing I know," Raspberry said, watching Unyx wheel away, "I'm in an Evanescence music video."

"Unyx's gone to get Dee's car," Yves said, watching the sky.

"How do you know that?" Raspberry asked.

"Those were Dee's car keys," Yves answered.

Eurydice daubed her eyes. "When'd you get those, anyway?"

"I picked Dee up at a gay bar yesterday," Yves shrugged.

Eurydice boggled at him, watched him fight to keep the smile off his face, ready to punch him in the nose if he failed.

"Okay," Raspberry drawled, brows raised. "But how does Unyx know that? When did you tell her?"

"About ten minutes from now," Yves said. The purple and green girls stared at him.

CeeCee sauntered up, slow and steady but with the energy of an avalanche. "Is it time to save the world yet?"

Red and Blue

The drive to the Epsilon Zeta Sorority chapter house proved dull and anticlimactic. The steering wheel jerked and the yellow SUV juddered if Dee pushed it over fifty miles per hour. He considered abandoning the bent and beaten automobile and running barefoot all the way back to fraternity row. It shocked him to realize he had been barefoot since "quickening Eurydice," as Yves called it, back in Bee's apartment. He wiggled his toes on the gas pedal. The thought of putting something on his feet was unnerving, exposing.

"I'd feel naked," he told his reflection in the rearview mirror. "Even putting socks on would make me feel naked." He downshifted into third gear and the SUV stopped trembling. He filed the barefoot question in his mental Things to Figure Out Later folder. Damn, that folder's getting pretty big.

With the automatic gearshift stuck in third, it would take him over an hour to drive to Epsilon Zeta. Pulling over and running began to appeal. His nanomek had remade him inside out, after all. Surely indefatigability during marathon sex translated into running a real marathon? And what about super-speed? Did he have any?

Red and blue flashed in the rearview mirror. Dee ignored the strobe lights for the moment, pondering super-speed. "Dumb name," he said. "'Celerity'. That's better."

A siren squawked once. Dee sighed and pulled over, a police car riding his tail. What about celerity? he wondered. Do I have any? He put the SUV in park and kept his hands at ten and two o'clock on the steering wheel, waiting for the state trooper to run the SUV's tags, call in the stop, and mosey over. Even if I have celerity, what would happen if I used it? Dee had to experiment and learn the limits of his powers eventually, he decided, but now was not the time. If Yves were here, he'd say, "Go with what you know." There was too much at stake for experimentation now.

The state trooper moseyed up to the busted driver's side window, drawling smoother than John Wayne. "What happened to your car, son?" He held a pad of ticket forms in one hand. "Driver's license and registration, please."

"I can go about my business."

The state trooper tore off the top form and crumpled it before retreating, his gate still set to mosey as if nothing unusual had happened. "Move along."

Dee confessed to his reflection, "Alright, maybe a little experimentation," and spent the rest of his trip quantifying his abilities in Star Wars terms. By the time the SUV rattled down fraternity row, Dee had given up on any aspirations to Jedi knighthood. Tomoe's "kuzbu" aligns more with the other guys. "That's okay," he said aloud, turning onto Campion Street, "the Dark Side has cooler lightsabers anyway."

The Truth of Dee

Dee crossed the curving perimeter of the flowerbed. Goosebumps danced across his skin. Walking beside him, chin pressed to his chest, Yves startled and shot him an inquisitive glance. "Tomoe said something about 'world navels'," Dee said. "I haven't a damn clue what she meant. Sounds like a drink."

Raspberry, Unyx, and Eurydice loitered in a circle around the snoozing CeeCee. Eurydice smoothed her skirts. "Hey, Dee." Dee thought her smiled looked plastic. "Sounded like you two were having a Hell of an argument. What's up?"

"Macho bullshit," Yves spat.

Eurydice's brow crinkled in confusion. Raspberry slunk behind her and would not look Dee in the eye. Dee shook his head and turned to Unyx. "Yves says you can see the future. How does that work?"

"You explain it better than I do," Unyx answered.

"I did?" Dee scratched his head, parsing her reply. "I mean, I do? When?"

Unyx reached for Yves. "When Yves tells me Black Cherry raped him." Behind Eurydice, Raspberry drew in a sharp breath.

Yves pulled away. "I never told you she raped me. How did you know?"

Unyx blanched, her raccoon mask fading into her skin. "Oh my God." She gaped. "Black Cherry raped you?"

Yves spluttered and swore. Everyone started talking at once, but Dee's calm voice cut through the babbling. "Unyx perceives fourth dimensional space-time from a fifth dimensional perspective. She saw that, in the future, Yves would tell her about Cherry. But Yves still had to tell her, otherwise she wouldn’t have seen it in the first place, and create a paradox. So Unyx can know something before it happens, as long as it still happens to her for the first time at some point in the future. She still has to be surprised to prevent paradox, so she winds up living a kind of backwards time universe." Dee perked up. "Just like Doctor Manhattan." He noticed everyone had fallen quiet sometime during his little speech and was staring at him. "What?"

"That's exactly right," Unyx marveled. "Except we're limited to about ten minutes for some reason. But who's Doctor Manhattan?"

"Oh," Dee dismissed, "he's a comic book character. Alan Moore again."

Eurydice and Yves exchanged a look. "Dee," Eurydice said with exaggerated care, "how did you come up with the name Galatea?"

"That's what they call Power Girl in the cartoon," he said. He shrugged. "Seriously: What?"

"What about 'Pygmalion'?" Yves asked, both curious and cautious.

"I got his name off the Internet." Dee faltered. "Googling, uh, for Power Girl porn."

"And 'Eurydice'?" asked Eurydice.

"Ah!" Dee waggled a finger. "I know all about Eurydice and Orpheus. There was a Jim Henson special about them. Orpheus sings her out of a tree. The tree opens up, it's all sticky inside, and, uh, and." Dee mumbled something.

"It got you hard," Eurydice giggled and Dee nodded.

"Are you telling me," Yves demanded, "that you've had all these insights and leaps of intuition these past few days because you like comic book and cartoon porn?"

"And muppets," Unyx chimed in. "Hey, Ursula whacked off to soft core vampire sex." She stroked Dee's sagging shoulder. "We are Unyx; we sympathize."

The U Train

Dee woke to debauchery.

Tomoe stood in stunned silence on the sideline. He had dreamt of her as he first met her: a short slip of a girl with dark, merry eyes. Now those same eyes sparkled from a face almost level with his above a body from a boyhood wet dream, an airbrushed pin-up girl with olive skin tanned to chocolate perfection, eye-popping curves, and waves of raven hair flowing down to her ass.

Dee ambled up, still groggy from sleep, trying to make sense of the spectacle Tomoe was watching. "What'd I miss?" Tomoe opened her mouth, but just shook her head, spread her hands, and shut it again. Long shadows moved behind Dee. He turned around and bumped his chin atop a bust crammed so close into a coppery one-piece dress he could hear the fiery fabric squeal under the stress.

"There was a little purple one," came the voice from above the boobs, "and a big, minty one." Dee stepped back to better look the newcomer in the eyes, but old habits died hard and he found himself drawn to the sun's reflection glimmering off the skintight material hugging the huge globes right in front of him. The girl swung her arm out to point. Dee stared at the muscle gliding under her creamy skin instead.

"Then Unyx fucked the minty one so hard she came apart," the girl gabbled. "So now there's a yellow one—right there, see?" She pointed to CeeCee, lying flat on her back in a little pool of melted creamsicle, her face stamped into a blissed-out smile. "And a green one." Here the girl paused, licked her lips, and bent down to whisper to Dee, in hushed, almost reverent tones. Flower perfumed, honey-brown hair tickled his nose. "And the green one? She just keeps going, and going, and going…"

Dee swallowed. "Where's Raz? The purple one?"

Tomoe found her voice. "Up in the tree."

"I've been fucked by a train!" Raspberry hollered back, slung over a high branch in the one tree remaining upright. She pumped her fists. "Woo!"

"Hi, Dee," Eurydice sang down from the heart of a glistening black nest, a writhing web of clutching arms and questing snakes. "Unyx, put me down, Dee's awake…Wait." Eurydice twisted until she hung suspended by her ankles and wrists by ebony ropes. "Hey, Dee," Eurydice called. She bit her lip in concentration. A pleated, myrtle miniskirt unrolled over her thighs and a prim, tea green schoolgirl blouse skated up over her chest. "Wanna watch?"

Ursula, wearing a glossy raccoon eye-mask and nothing else, rose out of the obsidian mass, a porcelain pale mermaid bobbing up from an inky sea. Her mask crooked up in arch inquisition.

Dee contemplated Ursula's outie navel and Eurydice's cheeky, jade grin before turning back to Tomoe. "You were right," he deadpanned. "My life does suck."

Uh oh Viggo

The wake of her wings drags Dee across the velvet-rope boundary and into the piano club. Upon stumbling through the front door, Dee finds himself in a tiny kitchen, a cluttered twin of the kitchenette of Dee's own apartment. A tall steel mixing bowl keeps the refrigerator door wedged open, its compressor running nonstop. A few dozen empty boxes of cherry Jell-O are piled atop the kitchen table.

Black Cherry perches on the kitchen counter, feasting on the last scraps of Bernie's—Bee's—flesh she is willing to eat. Pheromones of fear befoul the meat. Cannibalizing Bee for his collagen was no picnic. "But I did it, Master," she says, slurping down wobbly bits of gristle.

Dee's revulsion overcomes the sleep paralysis swaddling him like wet cotton. "Why, Cherry? Damn it, why?"

"To be strong for you. Strong enough to fuck you. To beat you." She sucks the dregs of marrow from a cracked femur. "To please my Master whether he likes it or not."

After a few final, lingering licks, she bites the thigh bone in two, chokes down one half, and drops the other into the garbage disposal in the kitchen sink. She flips a wall switch and the disposal coughs to life. The femur dances and slowly descends into the disposal, as hidden, dull blades whack it into splinters. "I ate all that I could use," she shouts over the racket. She glances aside, "Well, almost all."

She holds up a mason jar with the remains of Bee's manhood. Dee struggles to reach out and throttle Black Cherry's throat, but his arms plough through air thicker than treacle, and the scarlet girl rebuffs them with an impatient wing. He can still speak, however, and opts to scream for a long while before words come out. "Why show me this?"

"No choice." Black Cherry shuts off the disposal. "Through the Gate of Ivory, I can't make any true visions or new memories. I have to work within what's inside you already—my memories from before you consumed my novilunium. Plus, it's fun!" She gazes up at him through her eyelashes. "You should see how adorably angry you look."

She hops off the counter, mason jar in hand. "Now then, where is…Ah." She plucks up the tin of nanomek in the other hand. "Hm." She contemplates the two containers. "I wonder if the old trick still works."

She plunks the mason jar back onto the counter. The gobbets of flesh inside roll and rebound off the sides of the glass. "I just need a little bit of offal." She fishes inside the mouth of the garbage disposal and comes away with a finger-scoopful of muck. She flicks a dollop of the stuff into the mason jar.

She tops the top off the tin and a blanket of dread steals over Dee. "My God, Cherry. Don't…"

She shushes him and gives the tin a short shake. "No talking during my flashbacks." A slight shower of soft powder drifts down into the jar.

"You didn't really do that," Dee says, aghast. "This is a nightmare, a false dream. You're…you're making this up."

"Could be," she twitters, locking the top of the mason jar in place. "I think I'll leave this for you, a guardian at the threshold of the underworld. I bet you'll completely forget about it until it's too late, just like in all the stories."

Dee presses his fists against his forehead. "Remember, remember. This is important. Forget everything else about this fucking nightmare but remember this."

Black Cherry laughs like she will fall apart. "I love loose ends, don't you?"

Dee lunges for her but he still moves in slow motion. Black Cherry just laughs again and skips out of the kitchenette into the living room. She skids to a halt. "That smell. I didn't notice it in the kitchen—Bee's fear was too thick—but now…" She turns back to Dee, eyes wide. "I know that smell, Master." She giggles. "It's another me, isn't it?" A frown clouds her face. She swallows her laughter. "No, wait." She tips her head toward the ceiling. "It's her."

Dee staggers after her. Black Cherry groans. Wing claws scourge her back, her chest, raising crisscrossed, weeping welts. "There are holes in my mind, Master." Beads of brandy bleed down her legs. "Glittering caverns filled with the shadow of memory. I am newborn but there are echoes of something older, far older." She hangs her head. Her bangs fall over her eyes and she sobs, "I'm so confused. I'm so alone."

Dee reaches for her shoulder. "Cherry."

Black Cherry glares up at the lime-stained ceiling, defiance shining through sanguine tears. "I should be alone." A wing claw stabs upward. "She should not be here. It's all wrong." She sniffles, hiccupping giggles. "You made a mess of things this time, Master. But I will fix them for us."

She strides to the living room window, wrenches it open, and scuttles out. Wing claws punch through aluminum siding for purchase. "Come along, Master. I mean for you to see this through."

The dream-world shifts around Dee. He drifts three stories up in the middle of the night air. Black Cherry suspends herself upside-down above an apartment window. She peeps through, her face illuminated by a jittering electric glow.

Dee's heart is in his throat. "Galatea?"

Black Cherry grips the windowsill with her hands, and pries the window open with one long claw. Inside, the sliding window lock rips free of the frame and clatters to the floor."If all your neighbors are this cute, Master," she remarks, "I won't have to eat many more of them." She swings to the side to let him see.

The living room behind the glass is not his own, but he recognizes its occupant readily enough. Dee breathes, "Oh, no.

"Viggo."

Evan Jelly On

Linoleum bathroom tiles and specks of caulking and tumble upward in zero g. Fixtures and walls melt into wisps of menthol. Black Cherry brushes the drifting detritus away with an flick of a wing. "There are two gates of Sleep," she recites, skimming a finger across the page of a fusty tome, "One said to be of horn, through true shades given gentle passage."

She licks the pad of her thumb and flips the page. Dee knows she reads from the Aeneid, although he cannot remember why he knows. Black Cherry grins at his confusion and holds the book out to him. Pages have been cut away to make room for a faded, four color comic book. "Classics Illustrated," she winks. "Is this how you BS'd your way through college?"

She returns to reading, "The other gleams with the whiteness of polished ivory." She pauses, raises a brow and harrumphs. "But through it the gods of the dead send false nightmares to the world above." The book snaps shut. "Bingo."

Dee and the scarlet girl stand before on a rain-slick city street before a front door cornered off by red velvet rope. A sign above the door proclaims Lux in pale neon. Black Cherry flits over the rope and cracks open the door. Piano music spills out into the night. She whirls about and sings, her face a mask of sly delight, her soprano sparking and pitch-perfect:

I've just read of Cleopatra
The glamorous empire shatt'rer,
Who to Caesar lost her heart as well as her head,
But that stingy old Rotarian
Gave her nothing but one Caesarian,
So she fell in love with Marc Antony instead.
To worship two men in turn may be sublime,
But, oh, it's Hell when you care for both at the same time.

She twitters and dips her head through the door, one leg raised behind her butt. "Not the sort of ivory I was expecting—where do you get this stuff?" She peeks back at Dee.

Dee's speech slurs, his mouth feeling full of peanut butter. "Innernet."

In Dreams I Slink with You

"Master." Black Cherry writhes on the linoleum bathroom floor. "I'm in you now." She swallows food coloring and stains herself green, absorbs her wings to provide her slender body some heft, but she has no real talent for mimicry. She resembles a garish and gloppy copy of Galatea.

She rises, sighing, "I'm in you." The coloring fades and the va-va-voom curves dwindle as rubied wings sprout from her back. "I've been in you for hours, now, remember?" She shuts her eyes and pops open her mouth, tipping forward. "You took my tongue, so that I might speak inside you." Her mouth lies hollow and empty. "You drank of my breast, so that I might touch your soul." She cups her coquette's breast, watching the last of the green tint fade from her flesh. She stands with the wings of a bat and a cardinal's colors. She winks an abyssal eye. "Not very romantic, but the magic was there, wouldn't you say?"

She looks right at you. "You're dreaming, Master."

She spreads her wings and pirouettes on the toe of her candy-apple red Mary Jane clog. "Finally!" Her wings ignore the dimensions of the crowded bathroom, as things often do in dreams, and fly wide. "I thought your green whore would never let you sleep." The buffeting air is redolent with sex, and the unmistakable scent of baking cookies. "I thought she knew better." She winks, shrugs, "Her loss," and wing claws longer than daggers and sharper than any swords slice through the air.

There is no pain, only a gentle chill as the claws pierce your skull and meet with a click somewhere behind your eyes. Black Cherry frowns in a moue. "Well, that didn't work." She pivots her chin, inspecting with her light-swallowing eyes. "Something's keeping me out. Is it you?" She smiles, a proud pet-owner. "Are you really that strong, to keep me out, even now, when I'm so close?" She holds up a length of black braided rope, tied up in white ribbon. "Even when I have this?"

The knowledge comes to you now fully-formed, as if you always knew, a dream back-story slotted into place. The rope is Ursula's hair. Over ten years worth of growth. Ten years worth of work: an hour in the morning, an hour in the evening with…

          [gates]

…combs of horn and ivory, every day, sitting at her…

          [altar]

…vanity, gazing into her own eyes reflected back out at her from a century-old…

          [ scrying]

…looking glass. She performed this…

          [ ritual]

…compulsive routine, twice a day, every day, for ten years. The subtlest knife could not cut the bond tying Ursula to her…

          [ talismanic]

…trademark braids, any more than losing a limb makes someone less of a person. Black Cherry holds Ursula's life and power in her hand.

"Caught up?" Black Cherry asks. "Good. Whatever the reason, I can't get into your microcosm—your mind. I'm stuck here, in your imagination." She takes in her surroundings with a knowing smirk, and you realize everything has changed as she muses, "What an odd place."

Jambalaya

Tomoe whistled through her teeth and returned Unyx's tail-tip to the flower bed. "C'mon, Jo." Tomoe stood, flipped her hair out of her face. "We gotta go." She blinked and added, "Me oh my oh."

Unyx yanked hard on her own braids. "What do you mean we can't cum? We're so horny we'd have a screaming orgasm if that girl in Starbucks just looked at us funny."

"Get used to it," Raspberry smirked.

"Orgasm burns nanomek," Key Lime said as if that explained everything.

"Big fucking deal," Unyx hissed, scraping her bottom lip with her teeth. "We've got plenty." She had never felt so ripe with novilunium.

Raspberry cackled and fell to her knees beside Unyx. "You ain't got squat." She wormed her way between Unyx and Key Lime, aiming for the cleft where Unyx's thighs melding into a single ophidian trunk. "Yet." She kissed Unyx's glistening, ebony labia into her mouth, and exhaled with exquisite tenderness.

Jo reached for Tomoe's proffered hand. A few feet away, Unyx gasped and rolled her eyes over white. Jo asked, "What's going on?" Then she stood for the first time since she had entered the flower bed. The hem of the coppery dress, which had first hung loose around her ankles, now draped below her knees. She reeled on her newly statuesque legs. "Whoa."

"'Whoa' later," Tomoe insisted, taking Jo by the arm. "We need to reach minimum safe distance. Like, right now." She paused. "But don't forget your fifteen dollar, okay?"

"Nyx is used to running on empty," Key Lime said as Raspberry's nether kiss lingered and Unyx whickered and babbled. "You have only begun," Key Lime said, stepping over Raspberry to bump noses with Unyx again. "To feel half of the way we feel." She palmed Unyx's alabaster cheeks. "All the time."

"Please," Unyx said. Raspberry's nether kiss went on and on, suffusing Unyx with that same quintessential-but-chained power, and those billion shining wires coiled into springs of sexual tension bordering on agony. "Please."

"Don't cum," whispered Key Lime, and filled Unyx's mouth with her breathy kiss.

While Dee Is Sleeping

"Lookin' good, Jo."

Jo Echo woke from her doze in the flowerbed. "Tomoe, right? Unyx said to call you Tomoe."

Tomoe smiled down at her, nodding. Rivers of black hair flowed over her shoulders, spilling down and piling atop Jo's chest. The exotic metallic fabric of Jo's coppery dress, stretched to its limits over what Jo resignedly considered her "newly huge boobs," conducted the tactile sensation of Tomoe's hair kissing across its surface perfectly, perhaps even amplified it. The newly huge boobs' newly monstrous nipples stiffened, tenting the material of the dress that Jo would find uproarious if she were watching it in a porn flick instead of feeling it on her own chest. The fiery tingle made her feel powerful yet haywire.

Jo still moped. "I'll never play volleyball again."

Unyx snoozed beside her, her ebony serpentine trunk trailing away through the flowers. She treated Jo to a radiant, close-eyed, sleepy smile. "Mm, look in a mirror before you quit the team for good, 'kay?"

Jo moved to brush Tomoe's hair away but found herself stroking it instead. Totally haywire. So why don't I hear any blood music? Jo heard herself murmur, "Where'd you come from?" Christ, did I just say a pick-up line?

"Here and there." Tomoe shrugged one shoulder. "But just now?" She raised one hand. Unyx's tail-tip was woven between her fingers and wagging like a puppy's. "I believe I was invited."

Unyx stretched, her mouth forming a little O in a yawn so adorable it made Jo’s mouth water. She smacked her lips and sat up, arms lazing over her ophidian thighs. “Hello, Tomoe. What are you grinning at?”

“Your face. I know that face.”

Unyx arched a brow and her liquid black latex raccoon mask flowed out to fill it.

"That’s a meliae-jism O-face." Tomoe’s teeth flashed. "SB gets it all the time." She turned back to Jo. "So I guess those are for me," she said, gazing down at Jo’s nipples pointing up at her face, "from you, not Black Cherry." She leaned down until her lips were inches away from Jo’s own. "How do you like them apples? Or should I say cantaloupes?"

Oh, God, maybe she’s right. I’m so confused. What do I do, what do I? Jo blurted, “I have fifteen dollars.” I solicit her like a hooker? Where the fuck did that come from?

Tomoe sat back, her smile unreadable. "Really?"

Jo blushed and stammered so it was Unyx who nodded and said, "Three five dollar, even."

"Well, now," Tomoe said, and glanced over to the tree where her purse still hung, "I just so happen to have a few things you might be interested—"

"Unyx," Raspberry interrupted, swaggering across the bed toward them, her face plastered with the smile of someone serenely satiated. "I think the phrase is: 'It's time.'"

"Dammit," Tomoe huffed. "What does a girl have to do to earn five dollar around here?"

Jo had not seen Raspberry up close before and was mesmerized by her beauty: skin of amethyst, lavender hair in gentle curls like thousands of orchid petals, a face of classic perfection—"Well, fuck," said the mouth in that face, glaring down at Jo and Tomoe, "did the Titty Fairy hand out extra cup sizes when I wasn't looking?"

Tomoe sat up and stuck out her chest. "Yep." Her boobs bobbled. "Jealous?"

"Nah." Raspberry knelt by Jo's side, opposite Unyx. "I love the feel of being held in one hand." Jo felt very crowded and her blush deepened. Without ceremony, Raspberry reached down, plucked up Jo's hand and plopped it right atop one ample, amethyst breast. "What do you think, solid girl?"

"I…I…" Jo fumbled but Raspberry encouraged her to squeeze, pressing her hand over Jo's. Gel-flesh dimpled and flowed, surface firm but substance softer than any living thing Jo had ever felt. "Wow."

"Ha!" Raspberry let her hand fall. Jo lingered, fingers questing, until Raspberry's nipple hardened into a glassy pebble, snapping Jo out of her fascination and back into embarrassment. "Eurydice's gunna like you," Raspberry said, and Jo could not tell if her tone was threatening or promising. "A lot."

"Where is the Titty Fairy anyway?" Unyx asked, twisting on her trunk. "The yang-bath's long gone."

"You mean Eurydice?" Raspberry asked.

"No. Dee." Unyx's raccoon mask flowed wide and she laughed in a fast, breathy voice. "Dee – the – Titty – Fiary – hee!"

Raspberry hooked her thumb behind her. "Green Man's taking a little nap. Well deserved, for once. The man said he'd spew a bucket of spunk, and, by God, he delivered." Jo felt a little flurry of panic when she followed Raspberry's pointing thumb to the other side of the flowerbed and glimpsed a strapping, Junoesque woman of green and gold swaying toward her. "I mean," Raspberry continued, as the green and gold woman drew near, "he totally crashed his yoghurt truck. I am absolutely stuffed."

Jo had lived in a house crammed with gaggles of girls for three years now, but even when she was a freshman and they slept two-to-a-bed, it had been routine. There had never been any real tension, no moments worthy of writing up in Penthouse Forum letter. But surrounded on all sides by women possessed of such confidence and sexuality so unearthly it would be comical, Jo felt ready to write a Forum special exposé. Jello girls, snake-women, and amazons. It should be downright laughable…but not when it's happening to me.

Key Lime Pie

Jade arms, inlaid with gold, proceeded down CeeCee's throat as Eurydice rose to her feet. CeeCee's wide neck bulged only a bit. The amber woman rumbled her pleasure. A pale mint green flush bloomed in her chest.

"How does it feel?" Dee asked when Eurydice's elbows melted into CeeCee's mouth.

Eurydice swayed, her eyes dreamy. "Wow." She stood with knees bent and pressed her ass back against CeeCee's crotch, grinding to some slow inner beat. "So gentle." Gold filigree twisted about her thighs. "Oh, Dee, it's like the slowest, softest orgasm you could ever imagine." CeeCee loomed over Eurydice and the green girl's upper arms dissolved between CeeCee's jaws. "Is this how you felt?" CeeCee wolfed down Eurydice's hair one blade at a time, and Eurydice had to fight giggling and gasping with each chomp. "When I ate you…Ah! I mean, tried to eat you?"

Raspberry's cock-ringing fingers started an idle stroking. "Can't help it," she muttered. "Jeebus, I love this dick."

Dee's heart hammered. "N-no," he answered Eurydice, "not like that."

"Like this?" Raspberry smirked, and enfolded Dee's dick with both hands.

Dee juddered as she jacked him. "Yeahitwasalotmorelikethat."

Eurydice started to admonish her: "Raz, be goo—Ooh, God." But CeeCee latched onto her head. Eurydice spun around, squashed her curves against CeeCee's marshmallowy substance, her face upturned for a fierce, moaning kiss. Dee heard Eurydice's muffled squeals of delight as she scissor-kicked off the ground, launching the last of herself into CeeCee's absorbing flesh. CeeCee staggered backward, stunned by a meal so eager to be eaten. The mint flush plumed her breasts and neck.

Raspberry wrenched her hands away a hairsbreadth before Dee reached the point of no return. "Nah," she said. Dee twinged with denied release. "From now on, you're cumming in our cunts or not at all, got it?"

Dee sat up, fascinated by the spectacle before him. The mint tint spread across CeeCee's body, transmogrifying all that it touched. Her spongy, matte cream-flesh jellified, developing a shimmering surface tension of milky green gel. Her belly flattened as internal fluxions redistributed the mass of her meal. Her waist tapered and legs lengthened. Her chest swelled, breasts riding higher and firmer as her shoulders climbed higher. She's ripening, Dee decided, as her hourglass figure ballooned up and out, growing ever taller and more pronounced. The two curviest girls on the planet decided that wasn’t enough. Her neck smoothed into an elegant pillar, her regal visage dimpled into a heart-shaped face with a cherubic leer. Loose curls of tea-green hair tumbled down her back. Her canary yellow gemstone eyes darkled into heliodor, the rarest green and golden beryl.

Dee gaped. "Holy shit."

"Why, hi," drawled Key Lime Pie.

Raz-Nasty

A fluttering tongue replaced Raspberry's teasing thumb as she screwed her mouth onto Dee's knob, her hand swiveling around his shaft. Her jaw was muscular, her teeth sharp. Dee felt the sweet sting of flowing precum grow stronger. Raspberry groaned in depraved delight. She pressed her ass atop the bridge of his nose and humped his chin, coating his face and neck with runny purple honey. She slobbered up his cock in earnest, her hand slick around its root.

Dee lanced his tongue into her sex. A muffled, guttural chuckle rose in her lavender throat. She gyrated in furious little circles, grinding her clit against his chin. Her lips latched around Dee's glands, her fist blurred around his shaft, pumping faster and sucking harder until Dee's orgasm crested and crashed through him.

Raspberry cackled as Dee came, her face split into a jack-o'-lantern grin. She aimed his prick at her gaping mouth and painted her tongue and lips with spurts of silver. Her thighs clenched and relaxed around his head, aftershocks of her own orgasm. She smeared his spunk around her lips with her fingers, ran her tongue over her teeth, and laughed with a mouth full of cum. "Ha! Now I can get started."

Dee's unbelieving outcry—"Wff?"—was swallowed by her pussy and his deflating dick vanished down her throat.

The Contest

"You heard me," Eurydice purred before treating herself to a mouthful of half-hard cock. "'Oo canth handle the dich. Wah'ch dis…" She deep throated Dee with a greedy hum.

Raspberry wrenched Dee's dick from Eurydice's mouth. "Dee," she said as Dee writhed and gasped. "Have you ever noticed Miss Cum-Chugger here has only one blowjob Technique?" Her lavender fingers wormed around his lime-lubed root.

"There's more than one?" Dee panted, dick responding Raspberry's administrations. Two fingers, he thought, she just using two fingers. Raspberry push and pinched. Exhausted, still in afterglow, Dee found himself growing hard. I think I'm in trouble.

"Thousands," Raspberry hissed, wrapping her hand around his reborn erection. She went cockeyed as her lids slid shut. "Jesus fuck that's solid." Her thumb stroked up and down his shaft, never touching the crown of his glans. "This is no dick, this is an honest-to-shit, solid fucking rock."

"Nothing tops the Bowling Ball Through Eight Feet of Gardenhose Technique," murmured Eurydice. Dee thought he heard an undercurrent of triumph in her petulance and knew he was in trouble.

Raspberry sighed, chewed her lip, and rolled her palm over the head of Dee's dick like she was polishing a doorknob. "I know limes've got the greatest cunts but nobody, nowhere has a mouth like mine."

Deep trouble.

Eurydice tipped her head, met Dee's anxious gaze. He had never seen a smile of more wicked mischief in his life. "Go through them all, Raz," she said, "I'm sure Dee'll tell us whose Technique is best."

Deep, deeeep trouble.

Chapter Six Preview

"…Well, Dee?" Eurydice was asking, punctuating each word with a surreptitious, molten kiss on the tip of his dick, sparking jolts of afterglow. His hips twitched, trying to turn aside out of instinct, but Eurydice clamped her thighs around his knees and held his legs fast in a professional wrestler's lock. "Is it time?"

Raspberry squished her nectarous sex onto his chest. Her ass slid over his nipples as she craned her neck to leer at him, her elfin ears wiggling in an expression both girlish and incredibly lewd. He could see Eurydice through Raspberry's lavender, translucent tummy. The green girl was gazing cross-eyed at his cock, coaxing his erection skyward with little kisses and burning exhalations.

He glanced up, his head pivoting in Tomoe's lap. Her face, framed in a massive mane of raven hair long enough to tickle Dee's nose, loomed high above huge honey brown breasts. She winked, gave his neck a little squeeze with her legs, and his head was trapped in a tree-trunk vice.

CeeCee stood beside her, contemplating a plucked sunflower, its dinner-plate sized head filled with thousands of sticky seeds. Her mouth yawned and she popped the entire flower in her mouth, seeds, petals, three-foot stalk and all. She munched, looked about as if searching for something else to eat until her eyes fell on Dee's crotch, and she mimed an expression of dawning, hungry discovery.

Eurydice gave a polite cough. "I said, 'Is it time?'"

Tomoe, CeeCee, and Raspberry stared at him. A gentle breeze stirred the flowers of the green bed. Dee gulped, "Um. Maybe?"

Dee felt Eurydice stiffen, then relax. "Raz," she commanded, "shut that man up," and sword-swallowed his cock.

"Yes, ma'am!" Raspberry saluted, slipped her slick ass up and over Dee's neck and chin, surmounted his nose, and sat on his face.

Nyx Fix

Ursula's inner eye buoyed into the sky. Her body sprawled on the road below. The last vestige of Nyx, a dome of jet black on otherwise faded asphalt, liquefied and flooded up Ursula's kicking legs. The lustrous coating gave Ursula's skin and angular profile the perfection of a masterwork sculpture of flawless black granite. "I wish I had taken off those stupid blue jeans," Ursula sighed. "I bet our legs look fantastic."

"Ursula…" The voice was mellow and warm. "Ursula…" It was fatherly and familiar. "Ursula! You will go to the Dagobah System." It was Alec Guinness.

Ursula's adrenal gland was stuck in the body flopping on the pavement far below her mind's eye, but she still felt an insurgent urge to jump out of her skin. "Wah!" Her point of view spun, taking in the road, the roof of the jeep, Eurydice on all fours and impaling herself onto Dee's cock, and the blazing, mid-morning sun. She was alone in the air. "Wait. Dagobah System?"

"Ha! Kidding, kidding," said Obi-Wan Kenobi's voice. "It's me, Galatea. I left a little bit of nanomek in your head—" Ursula spluttered and swore but the voice continued without interruption "—to give you a message in case the shit hit the fan. If you're hearing this, it means you've gone astral and I'm in trouble, so you need to—"

hello – hello – where – did – you – go – ah – there – you – are – hello – hey – um – getting – crowded – got – company?

The disembodied voice of Alec Guinness paused. "What the fuck was that?"

"You said were just recorded message," Ursula accused.

"I am," said the voice, growing edgy and strangely modulated, "but…" jesus – ha – it's – a – lime – ha – ha – get – in – the – cranium – ha – ha – ha! "…That's really freaking me out!" Galatea cried out her bewilderment in her usual fiery alto. "What's going on?"

Ursula wrapped herself in blanket of smug silence before speaking. "You're the uninvited guest, Galatea, not her, so you explain yourself first."

"Oh, all right," Galatea grumped. "But we talked about this already, remember?"

"I wasn't expecting any of this." Ursula's point of view righted. "I can handle the astral-body stuff better now, thanks to your coaching, but how the Hell are you out here with me?"

"Damn," said Galatea's voice. "I thought I'd explained this bit. You said it would be okay. And this message is running out of nanomek fast. Playing around in here costs a bundle." yes – Ursula – yes – so – strong – your – mind – is – so – strong – your – body – so – sweet – come – back – and – feel – me – fuck – you – please – sweet – strong – please! "I gotta be honest, Ursula," Galatea confessed. "You're new girlfriend's creeping me out. Anyway, I asked you to give me, a newbie me, a message from me, the old me, in case something bad happened to me, the whole-me. That message was me, a kinda mini-me. See?"

"Uh, yeah," Ursula said, her point of view bobbing in a cameraman's nod, "that's the part I didn't understand the first time, either. Sorry."

"When I mindfucked you," Galatea explained, exasperated, "I left a little message-web and a big wad of energy, a backup magic battery and a message in a bottle explaining how to use it. This message-web almost gone, now, you know. Just a few thoughts left."

Ursula mused, "A backup magic battery? A big wad in a bottle? But you said you recharge your magic by fucking Dee's brains out...Oh my God, you put Dee's sperm in my brain!"

ew – ew – ew – um – no – wait – hold – on – magic – battery?

"Don't be silly." It was Galatea's turn to be smug. "You don't put sperm in your brain, you put it in your—" found – it – found – it – lime – thank – you – found – it – just – enough – keep – me – going – keep – me – fucking… "Hey." Galatea grew faint. "That's not yours."

"Nyx, no," Ursula insisted. "The, uh, power level of that battery must be so small."

Galatea's furious screech echoed as if from miles away. "It's over nine thousand!"

"Okay." Ursula astral-shrugged. "Maybe more than a little. Still, Nyx, don't waste it fucking yourself to death." worth – it – worth – it – worth – it – to – thank – you – to – love – you… Ursula aspired into the air, stunned. "Nyx…"

"It's easy to for people like us to die for love, little sister." Galatea's wistful, distant voice crackled with static. "Ursula wants you to take the harder path."

don't – understand – don't – want – to – stop – want – to – thank – want – to – fuck – want – to – love… Ursula focused on the source of the whispery non-speech. While Galatea's astral message emanated from the surrounding air, Nyx's words flittered from somewhere deep within, from between the eyes and beside the heart. "Live for me, Nyx." will – try – will – live – will – love – live – love – oh – love…

Galatea's voice strained even as it broke apart. "It…yours…lit…sister. Ursula…tell…love him. Tell Dee…no matt…happens. I love…always." And Galatea was gone.

so – sad – so – strange – Dee – cute – kind – caring – but – too – solid – almost – stolid – yuck.

I Remember Eddie

The paperboy pelted down the narrow steps to the Epsilon Sorority House basement, satchel of soggy newspapers bouncing off his flat, newsprint-smudged ass. The pizza guy and Eddie followed close behind on the single-file stairway. The cable guy, his work-clothes little more than strips of cloth stuck to his sticky skin, hesitated at the top of the stair, set his jaw, turned and stood his ground.

Eddie poked his back into the wood-paneled stairway, his face a blotchy patchwork of lipstick, bites, bruises, and vaginal juices. "C'mon, man! We don't have time."

"You guys go on," the cable guy said, his voice flat. The hordes of horny E-Z sorority sisters searching for them in other parts of the house sounded muffled but were getting closer. "It's too late for me." He adjusted himself. "And I can buy you a couple of minutes."

Eddie squinted up. The cable guy stood rigid, but Eddie could not read his body-language just from looking at his butt. "What the Hell, man?"

"I have erectile dysfunction," the cable guy answered in that same flat tone.

The pizza guy and the paperboy crowded Eddie at the stairwell's bottom. "Could've fooled me," the pizza guy said as the paperboy looked up, puzzled.

The cable guy sagged. "No, it's true. It's just not something I talk about. Even got a prescription for it. Never thought I'd need it, but I put one in my wallet, just in case." The rampaging Easies were close enough to pick out individual voices. The cable guy called over the rising noise, "Remember when I fell back on stairs, when we were headed for the second floor?"

"Oh my God," Eddie whispered.

The paperboy shrugged. "What?"

"I took it," called the cable guy. He adjusted himself again and stepped into the upper hall. "So get going."

The paperboy shouted from the bottom of the stairwell. "Took one what?"

"Viagra," Eddie said, his face ashen. "He took a Viagra pill. His hard-on'll last another three hours, or until his heart stops, whichever comes—uh, happens—first."

The pizza guy blinked back tears. "I'll never forget you, man."

The paperboy choked back rage. "You selfish bastard."

Eddie ran back up the stairs, grabbed the stairwell door. The cable guy took a few more steps into the hallway. Somewhere down the upper hall, a girl cried, "There he is!" Eddie and the cable guy exchanged a knowing glance. "Look at that, he's still hard," gloated another girl, "and just standing there." The cable guy nodded.

Eddie slammed the door to the stairwell shut, trapping the cable guy in the upper hall. He battered the doorknob until it he heard the mechanism inside crack. He hobbled back down the stairway, cradling his throbbing fist, where the pizza guy and delivery boy looked on in horror under a single, bare light-bulb. "Keep moving," Eddie ordered.

"What are we looking for?" the paperboy asked, casting about. An unfinished cement corridor and assorted basement clutter stretched in either direction.

"Storm cellar door," Eddie answered. "A huge-ass building like this has got to have a storm shelter. Right?"

The pizza guy nodded his agreement, then glanced up. Something thumped against the door at the top of the stair. "Did they get the extinguisher again?" The thump developed a steady rhythm and the pizza guy paled. "Oh, shit. That's his ass. C'mon kid." He clapped the paperboy on the shoulder. "Let's not waste the time he bought us." He led the paperboy down the left-hand side.

Eddie picked his way over steamer trunks and boxes of bric-a-brac to the nearest doorway: laundry room. Frilly under-things hung everywhere, a panty-raid mother load. Eddie shuddered and moved on, the hallway growing darker as he moved away from the stairwell. "You guys find anything?"

"Storage closet," called the paperboy.

"World's largest collection of old Cosmo mags," said the pizza guy.

Eddie found the next door. He rattled the rusty knob. "Please, God," he muttered, testing the door with his shoulder, "don't tell me we got all this way and the storm cellar's locked."

The paperboy's voice drifted down the corridor. "What the fuck is that?"

Eddie spun. The paperboy and the pizza guy stood at an open door at the far end of the corridor. They were bathed in a pale green light. "What's going on?" Eddie asked, hustling over as fast as he could.

"Is it," the pizza guy wondered, staring into the door. "Is it even real?"

Oh, no, Eddie thought. He heard the flickering buzz of florescent lighting as he approached. Light shone from the doorway ahead, but something inside cast hundreds of scintillating motes of lime-colored light over every surface in the hallway, as a giant, green disco-ball hanging from the ceiling in the room beyond. Please, no. He reached his two companions as the paperboy took his first step into the room. Eddie peeked around him. One look was all he needed.

The paperboy started, "Maybe it's just a sta—" but Eddie yanked him back.

"It's not," Eddie hissed. "Don't touch it. Don't go near it. And whatever you do, don't point your dick at it."

"All right, all right." The paperboy massaged his shoulder, then narrowed his eyes at Eddie. "But you know something. Something you're not telling us."

Eddie blocked the doorway and the contents of the room beyond. "It doesn't matter. Either way, we've got to get out here, right?"

The pizza guy moved to the paperboy's side. "You've been here the longest, and I just realized I you never told us how you got here." He folded his arms, making them dance with flecks of viridian light. "So what's your story, Eddie?"

"I don't have a story," Eddie insisted. His eyes grew accustomed to the eldritch illumination. "I'm just Eddie. And trust me, I have no fucking idea what's—the storm door."

The pizza guy blinked. "Say what?"

"Behind you," Eddie said, pointing. Now that his vision had adjusted, he could see the short stairway leading to a canted metal door. "It's right there. Guys, we're getting out of here."

The pizza guy turned. "Holy shit. You're right. We made it!" He marched up the stairs.

"I'm still a virgin," the paperboy insisted.

Eddie rolled his eyes. "Only in the strictest sense."

"Yeah," the pizza guy said, pushing on the door, "you've done things today that'd make Bill Clinton blush. Or give you a medal." The door creaked and moaned as metal strained against cement. "Eddie, give me a hand with this."

Eddie hopped up the stairs. The pizza guy shoved one side of the storm door. A sliver of light zigzagged down the stairs as the heavy metal door shifted half an inch before falling back. "It was just held by a sliding bolt," the pizza guy laughed, "but it's heavy as Hell."

Eddie shouldered up against the other side of the door. He turned to the pizza guy. "On the count of three?"

"Sure," the pizza guy answered, "but we're, you know, buck naked."

"So?" said Eddie. He gave the pizza guy a celebratory punch on the shoulder. "We're outta here!"

The paperboy mounted the foot of the stair. "Hurry up, guys, that thing in there's giving me the creeps and, well, a boner."

"One," Eddie said, shifting his weight. He grinned like an idiot.

"Two." The pizza guy tested his handhold on the door.

Eddie breathed deep. "Three!" He pushed.

Both sides of the door flew open, hinges squealing and sparks flying. Eddie and the pizza guy belly-flopped onto the grass. Eddie squinted in the sudden flare of sunlight until a long shadow fell over him, coasting wide to cover a huge swath of the lawn, as if cast by an encroaching alien starship.

"Oh, hello, Eddie. You've made a friend, I see. That's good."

Eddie punched the ground. "No, no, no." He turned his head. "I was so close."

Red Mary Jane jelly clogs skipped through the grass, stopping inches away from his eyes. "Aw, I'm sorry, Eddie. Was your friend close, too?" Eddie looked up at a pair of luscious legs the color of a cherry creamsicle. "Don't you two worry. I'll help you finish."

Black Cherry swooped in. Eddie's stomach dropped. She flipped him over onto his back with one wing claw, pinned the pizza guy's arms to the ground with the other.

The pizza guy glared, murder in his eyes. "What did you do, Eddie?"

Black Cherry clucked, poking and prodding the pizza guy as if inspecting ripening fruit. A pair of long, black, braided hair extensions dangled from one of her hands.

The pizza guy hissed, "What. Did. You. Do?"

"Nothing." Eddie choked back tears. "I did nothing. I…I showed up for work."

"And I'm so glad you did, Eddie," Black Cherry said. She stood up, hands on hips, chest outthrust. "Because I'm starved."

"What the Hell's goin' on?" The paperboy tromped up the storm cellar stairs and into the sun before his eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Oh, fuck me."

Black Cherry tipped her head, the miniature pair of wings above her ears pricking up. "Okay!"

Ladies First

Yves applied pressure to the pommel, felt the resistance of SB's most tender flesh. SB's fingers trembled over his. She spread the petals of her sex with her other hand. "Yves," she breathed, and opened herself to him.

His heart slamming in his chest, Yves pushed down on the rubicund pommel. SB clawed his chest, kicked against the blanket. "Yves!" Her labia enfolded the pommel. Pungent nectar drizzled around the hilt, the blade towering above the both of them. She led him to angle the scimitar down.

"Deeper, Yves."

Balancing the weight of the scimitar delicately in his hands, he eased the hilt in. He realized he wasn't breathing. SB screamed his name and threw her arms around his neck. She curled and huddled beneath his chin. The sword slipped further into SB's core and Yves felt a subtle shiver and shift in the contours of the rose girl's body. She felt more sleek, angular, and hard against him. Between his fingers, the scimitar began to burn.

Even though Yves hovered only inches away, even though Yves watched agog as it happened, even though Yves' hands were wrapped around the scimitar as it coarsened and thickened, the exact moment of transition—the moment where Yves could say, before it was her sword, and now it was her cock—escaped him, or maybe never truly occurred. One minute Yves was fucking an Amazon with the hilt of her own sword, the next he was jacking off a dickgirl with the biggest prick on the planet.

The potential power locked in SB's scimitar was a flickering candle compared to the flamethrower of her cock. Yves adapted to her size quickly, using the hollows of his palms more than his fingers to tease and squeeze her shaft. SB convulsed and groaned with each stroke. "Yes. God. Yes. God! Ye—No. Wait. Wait!" Yves threw his hands in the air, dragging one last shuddery cry from SB.

"Jesus Christ," Yves growled, standing with fists clenched. "I want to make you cum." He gritted his teeth in a mirthless, horny leer. "Is that so much to ask?"

"I need you," SB said in an alto voice so deep it bordered on baritone. She rolled over onto her stomach, the pillar of her erection forcing her up on all fours. "I need you inside me." She scooted backward, pressed her ass against his groin until their balls touched. "And you know what they say, Yves." She threw him a shameless smile over her shoulder. "Ladies first."

Swordplay or Foreplay Preview

"Have it your way, then," SB growled and kicked Yves' left knee out from under him. Yves toppled backward. SB brought her blade whistling down at Yves' exposed neck.

Yves rode his collapse into a controlled tumble. SB's pink scimitar sank into the sodden earth. "You're quick," SB said, wresting the scimitar from the ground, whisking it high and behind her head. "Damn quick for someone who says he's not a superhero."

Yves sprang to his feet, pale sword ready in a two-handed grip. "Victory is not getting cut." He found his center and sought a Kamae, a kendo fencing ready stance. "That's not superheroic," he said, thinking, This is no kendo match and she isn't holding a shinai staff. "That's just smart." He tipped his blade up, and entered a textbook perfect Water Kamae, reciting, "If you've thought of cutting, it's too late to cut." Her grip is tight. She's not ready. Don't move until you see it. "You must have already cut when you think of cutting."

SB's fingers relaxed. The scimitar's haft slipping a hairsbreadth downward.

There. Yves angled his blade a few degrees, its tip pointed at SB's eyes. Now.

SB swung her scimitar down in a lethal, blurred arc. Yves was already moving, closing the distance to level the advantage of an overhead strike. The scimitar accelerated downward. He rotated his own sword. The scimitar rebounded and SB dropped back. Sport-drink red sweat beaded her bare breasts. Yves rotated back to his Water stance and waited. "Your banter is pretty pithy," SB snarled, this time bringing her blade low and back, "for someone who say's he's not a superhero."

Yeah, why the Hell am I bantering? "That's just my inner Dee talking," Yves said, and, feeling as uncertain as he sounded, he shifted his stance and lost his center.

"I know you're a superhero, Yves, and I know that you know. Want to know how I know?" The pink scimitar swept up and out. Anticipating a feint designed to push him further from center, Yves risked a sidestep—but SB swiveled her hips and double-feinted, her huge blade whirring faster than Yves thought possible. He walked right into an upswing about to crack open his chest like a book.

His thumb prickled. There was a screeching noise of glass grating against glass. Without thinking, Yves had leaned into the fatal swing. The scimitar grinded over the flat of his pale blade until the guards of both swords clicked together. Yves and SB stood nose-to-nose save for the swords locked together between them. "I know you're a superhero, Yves," SB said as she strained to break the lock and earn the riposte, "because despite all your training, all that muscle memory telling you to strike after each defense, you haven’t even tried to cut me yet." SB narrowed her eyes, her face slick with sport-drink sweat. "Only the good guys are dumb enough to do that."

Yves hissed, every ounce of his strength pouring into his effort to hold the lock. "That's not it." SB arched a brow and Yves conceded, "Alright, that's not just it."

The swords squealed in protest as their wielders forced them a fraction of an inch one way, and then the other. SB gritted her teeth. "What else, then?"

Yves began, "This is…" SB yanked the scimitar's guard away and Yves dredged up reserves of stamina he did not know he had to clamp the pale sword's guard down hard, locking the blades again. "This is so fucking hot," he gushed.

The Big Reveal

"Holy shit," said Yves when SB finally rocked backward. "The only times I've ever cum that fast and hard before, I've been by myself." SB tried to laugh but only gasped for air. Yves asked, "nanogasms?" SB nodded, eyes crossed, and Yves added, "You just gave me a massive macrogasm, SB. You deserve more than a little blood music." Yves sat up, bare chest filmed in sweat, and eyed the mammoth bulge in SB's dress. "Why aren't you naked?"
Yves reached out, one hand following the distending curve of SB's dress. SB's hard-on grew and throbbed, wider than Yves hand, beneath his touch. I only caught a glimpse of her at the store, he thought, taking the hem of SB's dress in both hands. SB bit her lip as Yves sat close, drawing her dress upward. I know she's huge, Dee said she was ginormous, but how big could she possibly—"Ow," Yves said, as the head of SB's dick bopped him on the nose.

Yves gawked at a candy-red cock-head, polished in maraschino-cherry precum and bigger than his fist, crowning three feet of rose-red shaft. It looked crystalline and fleshy at the same time. Veins like chiseled rose quartz somehow pulsed with life. SB worried her lip and searched his face with anxious eyes. Her childlike pout put Yves over the edge, and he laughed so hard he had to hold on to the sides of his head.

"No one," SB muttered, then shifted and raised her voice over Yves' delighted cackling. "No one has ever laughed at my dick before. Ever."

"Why not?" Yves wiped tears from his eyes. "It's amazing. You're amazing, SB. I mean, look at you. You've got the biggest penis on the planet and you're still insecure. If a three foot cock can't make a dickgirl feel confident, mortal men are doomed."

The Seduction of Yves III

SB scooted around to Yves's side and kissed him. This time, Yves returned the kiss and took her in his arms. The giving flesh of her lips and toned expanse of her back felt as firm as any man or woman's, but her silken touch, her summery smell, her salty-sweet taste were beyond exotic, almost unearthly. SB broke their kiss and Yves, breathless, rested his forehead against hers. "I think I understand Dee a bit better now," he said.

"So," SB said, sitting up and daubing oil on the tip of Yves' nose. "If I'm not seducing you…" She massaged the oil across the bridge of his nose and around the orbits of his eyes. "Then what am I doing?" She swabbed his temples and forehead and Yves breathed easy; he had never felt more clear-headed in his life.

Yves thought about it as SB rouged his cheeks. "You're anointing me."

SB grinned and glanced aside, as if remembering some private joke. "I'm a-knighting you."

"I thought you knighted someone with a sword."

SB's introspective grin turned downright wicked. "That comes later." She finished her handiwork on his face and sat back to admire it.

The oil tingled on Yves face as it dried. "Glass armor," he remembered. "You're armoring me. Outfitting me? No." He found the right word and it both thrilled and chilled him. "You're girding me."

SB leaped close, her third kiss hungrier than the last two combined. "Lie down, Yves," she said, voice low. "Lose the pants."

The Seduction of Yves II (Electric Boogaloo) Unproofed

Every bit of Yves ached, from his brain to his balls down through the balls of his feet. He wondered if any part of him, body or spirit, had escaped torture in the past twelve hours. He doubted it. "My arms are a little sore, yeah."

SB rolled her eyes, goosed Yves' cheek, and unlatched the jar lid. "Hold out your arm, then," she said, scooping a small dollop of jam onto one finger. The vibrant, almost angry red of the jam contrasted the soft rose hues of her translucent flesh.

Yves offered up his arm. SB placed the open jar beside them on the picnic blanket, gently rotated Yves' hand palm up, and smeared the red stuff on the pad of his thumb. It tingled. A droplet streaked down into the cup of his palm. Yves frowned.

"Your skin is warm enough to cook it into oil," SB said as more tingling syrup pooled in his hand. She held him by the wrist, and rubbed her thumb over the strawberry smear on his hand, working it into the skin, tracing the flexor tendon anchoring his thumb. Her gaze fixed on his hand, SB added, "You okay?"

"What do you mean?"

"The color." She gathered Yves' hand to her chest, smoothing the stuff over his palm with both her thumbs, then sliding her thumbs around and between his fingers. "Before it cooks into oil, it kinda looks like blood."

"You mean, do you remind me of Black Cherry?"

SB looked up from her ministrations, squeezing each of Yves' fingers in turn. "Well?"

"You're nothing like Black Cherry," Yves insisted. SB pressed the flat of his oiled hand against her cheek. Yves smiled, "You want details?"

SB dipped a finger into the jar and massaged more jam into Yves' wrist. "Just a couple."

"You'll have to give me a minute."

"Why?" SB slid her fingers up his forearm.

Yves sighed, eyes closed. "I just want to...feel this, for a while." The soothing tingle stretched from Yves' fingertips down to his elbow. The muscles of his hand and forearm were as butter, all tension gone. SB found a potent pressure-point and a clarifying calm stole over Yves. "Black Cherry's dark currents give her that horrible, arterial red look," Yves heard himself say. "Yours is the red of rosé wine. Black Cherry felt like clay, wet cement really. Raz and Eurydice felt like living, standing waves. You feel, well, real." He opened his eyes. SB paused, her hands encircling his upper arm. "With my eyes closed," Yves explained, "I can't tell that you’re meliae. Just someone who wears a summery cologne. Uh, I mean perfume."

SB stroked the length of Yves' oiled arm. Yves resisted the urge to purr. "I'm not built like other goo girls. I'm organized."

Yves eyed the crowded crotch of her dress. "That's apparent."

"Stop," SB breathed. She gave him a playful push, planting a strawberry-red stain over Yves' undershirt. "Or you will really start sounding just like Dee. I've got internal structures. Check this out." SB flexed her right arm. Her toned, oval muscles bulged. "This bicep is not just for show. Striated pectin. Go on, check it out."

Yves reached out, prodding cautiously at first, but growing bold when his fingers only dimpled SB's upper arm. "Wow. Do you work out?" Oh, Jesus, Yves thought, wincing, what am I, twelve?

"My nanomek do." SB rolled her shoulders, inhaled. Her round breasts jutted against her fiery dress, nipples erect and obvious and inches away from Yves' fondling fingers. "Wanna feel my pecs?"

I haven't been this close to second base with a girl since high school. Yves flustered and flushed. SB winked, nabbed his arm and slathered it with a healthy gob of tingly jam. "You sure are generous with that stuff," Yves said.

SB laughed. "I've cum into possession of a dumpster full of it." She swallowed a bark of laughter and oiled Yves' arm in a bashful silence before adding, "Thanks to you."

Pain and stress vanished under SB's touch. Yves allowed himself to purr. "Mrr. Just what is it, anyway?"

"Have you ever heard of woad, Yves?" SB asked, swirling her thumbs over his elbow.

"Only as the past tense of the Keanu Reeves verb, 'to whoa'," Yves joked. SB smirked but said nothing. "It's a dye, blue or something, right?"

"Or something, yeah," SB said. She leaned close to massage his upper arm. Yves felt her breath on his neck. "Anyway," SB began, "the ancient Britons painted themselves before a battle. They needed no other armor."

A memory clicked into place. "Like Braveheart," Yves said.

SB froze, then snorted, "Nothing like Braveheart." She went to work on his shoulder. "I'm talking aboriginal Albion, Yves. And it wasn't blue, either. Julius Caesar called it vitrum." She shook her head in reverie. "Julius. Now there's a guy who knew how to spend five denarii."

"Vitrum," Yves repeated. He knew his Latin roots from years of applied science. "Glass." He raised his free arm. The glaze of massage oil blazed in the sun. "Glass armor."

SB's eyes danced, her voice edgy with urgency. "Take off your shirt, Yves."

The Seduction of Yves

The rose-color Aston Martin supercar growled down an abandoned road, little more than a narrow strip of potholed hardpan dusted with gravel. The supercar's engine groused at being kept in such a low gear. Yves shot a sour look into the rearview mirror and the engine's grumbling grew self-conscious. "I want to go fast," the engine said. "Can't help it. Not when you're behind my wheel, driving me like that."

Yves maneuvered the supercar through a rusted-open, chain link fence. "Like what?"

"Like 'wow'," the engine chuckled, a strange bubbling sound. "Like I want to scream, 'Floor it! Floor it!'"

Yves shook his head, bemused. "You are every red-blooded American male's wet dream, SB."

The engine mumbled, "I seriously doubt every." The drove down the old gravel road in silence and second gear before the engine affected an overblown fake orgasm. "Ooh! Ah! Floor it! Floor it!"

Yves laughed hard enough to bring his headache pounding back to life. "I can't. If I did, we'd drive right into the reservoir." The road curled into a dead end behind a wide grassy bank. A fallen, weatherworn sign insisted upon no fishing without a county permit. "We're here. And you still haven't told me why you wanted to come in the first place."

"You need to relax." The supercar's engine noise dropped into a subsonic purr. The driver's seat thrummed against Yves' neck and the small of his back. Yves yawned, headache gone. "This place is pretty relaxing, isn't it?" the engine asked.

A thick wall of pine trees circled the bank. The reservoir stretched out ahead of them in a great, flat bowl. The early afternoon sun reflected of the dark water in flashing triangles. The grass grew wild and tall, cutting off sight of the road, completing the illusion. "It's amazing," Yves confessed. "A mountain loch in the middle of Middle America."

"Reminds me of a bend in the Durance River," the engine whispered, "a long time ago."

Yves left the stick in neutral and engaged the emergency brake. "So what do we do now?"

The engine cut out and the driver's side door popped open on its own accord. "We get the fuck out."

Yves hopped out and ambled down the sloping bank. He heard a metallic sigh behind him. He bent at the water's edge, hunting without success for a good skipping stone, hearing SB's swaggering walk rustle the grass behind him. When he stood up, a strong hand slipped around his shoulder, fingers firm and cool. A breeze carried the scent of wild strawberries and cotton candy. "How do you feel, Yves?"

Yves stretched. "Deliciously sleepy."

Those slim fingers pat him on the back. "C'mere, Yves."

SB wore her signature one piece dress. The bright sunlight painted her in fiery shades of red and gold. She knelt onto a wide tartan picnic blanket, patted the spot in front of her. "Come on down."

Yves tapped the blanket with a sneaker. "Is this you?" He hoped he sounded more curious than nervous.

"It's of me," SB explained, "but it's not me. I've locked it, it's just a thing." She smoothed out the blanket. "Well?"

Yves sat cross-legged before her, inspecting the tartan textile. "Soft."

"You'd be surprised the kinds of things you can make from sugary carbohydrates if you're working on the sub-molecular level." SB read Yves' expression and added, "Okay, maybe you in particular wouldn't." She shifted, her cheeks darkening to a true crimson. "What're you looking at?"

"You're eyes," Yves answered. "It was recently pointed out to me that I do not pay close attention to a woman's eyes."

"Dude." SB gestured at her lap, where her manhood folded between her knees like a bendy third leg. "Do I look like a woman?"

"Do appearances matter?" Yves asked in return, still scrutinizing SB's face. "I thought they were rock candy or some other sugar crystal. Your eyes, I mean. But they're not, are they? They're real diamond."

"So?"

Yves nodded. "'So' indeed. Diamond's just carbon, after all, less complicated than sugar in some ways." SB's wry smile set her eyes twinkling. Yves nodded again, downcast. "Yeah, I'm stalling. And I don't even know what's going to happen, and I'm stalling. Wow, listen to me…"

SB tipped her head. "Yves?"

"…I'm taking as much as Urusla…"

SB coughed politely. "Hey, Yves?"

"…No worse: Dee."

SB plucked Yves' head up by the chin. "Yves. You really, really need to unwind." She held up the mason jar of strawberry colored jam in her other hand. "How's about I give you a rub down?"

---

The Lamia Thing

Unyx's sex was candied gossamer against Jo's tongue. The onyx glossing Unyx's cleft thinned and cozened until her labia flowered black and her clitoral hood gleamed as a black pearl. Unyx tasted of sex and licorice with an undercurrent of sweet liquor so potent it cut through the red rhythm fogging Jo's mind. Jo pulled away from her feast. "Ouzo?"

"of – course – what – else? but – please." Unyx's tail, still entwined about Jo's leg, tugged, gentle but insistent. Her gloved hands urged Jo back down. "please – finish." Jo flittered her tongue over Unyx's clit, a bud of electric, black silk. "god – three – Ursula – Nyx – me – we – all – feel..." Unyx thrashed, pushed Jo prone onto the green bed, bundling Jo head-to-toe under her serpentine trunk.

Jo reveled. Muscular, python power surrounded her, quivering against her legs, her her arms, her everywhere. The taste of ouzo and sex flooded her mouth. The random spasms soon settled into a slow, steady pulsation, beginning with Unyx pressing her pussy into Jo's mouth. The pressure traveled down Jo's neck, over her breasts, tummy, thighs—pausing to prolong the tender squeeze over Jo's sex—and legs in undulating waves. Jo felt as if she would melt.

Then the tip of Unyx's tail glided between Jo's labia majora, moving to the same pulsing beat, and Jo felt as if she would fly. Jo stretched up, hugging as hard as she could. Her arms barely reached halfway around the sleek snake swaddling her. The thick tail-tip nudged and nuzzled but would not penetrate. A greedy, empty need yawned between her legs. Jo arched her neck, the back of her head crushing into the green bed, her chin burrowing into Unyx's sex. She screamed. She begged. "Fuck me. Oh, God, fuck m—" The tail-tip slid into her, in perfect time with the beat. "My-fucking-God!"

Dee Goes Ballastic

Dee rocked up onto his knees, scooping Eurydice in his arms, molding her body against his. Her surface tension was cool, her breath hot and citrus-sweet. "I love you," she said, riding him, "I love you. Cum in me now." She feasted on his neck.

Tomoe knelt behind Dee and embraced him. Her sturdy arms stretched over his, followed their path up Eurydice's back. Tomoe's long fingers splayed over his hands, their tips pressed into Eurydice's glistening gel-flesh. Tomoe moved closer still. Her thighs packed against his butt, her belly button smooched the small of his back. Her ripe tit mashed into his shoulders, swaddling his neck, even nudged Eurydice where she gnawed on Dee's collar bone. Green, jellied dreadlocks sprawled across Tomoe's breast. Dee was caught in a middle of a three-way clinch. "Cum in her, Green Man," Tomoe said, matching his momentum, twinning his rhythm into Eurydice. "I want to feel it."

Eurydice pulled away to look Dee in the eye. "Don't move," she whispered, "and let me fuck you." She hooked her legs under Dee's arms, locked her ankles around Tomoe's back. She tensed her legs, juddered upward, dragging her steaming sex up his shaft until the tip of his cock threatened to pop free. She pressed her forehead against Dee's, chewed her lip, whispered, "Let me fuck you." She squirmed back down, impaling herself with his dick. She gaped, gasping in little high pitched hiccups, grinding her clit against the root of his shaft before tensing, glissading back up. "Let me fuck you, let me make you cum." Dee groaned, but Eurydice covered his mouth in quick little kisses. "Shh." She kissed him. "Shh." She kissed him. "Cum in me now."

Tomoe reached down, cupped Eurydice's ass cheek in one hand, pawed at Dee's dick with the other. Eurydice slithered back down Dee's dick. Tomoe explored the gooey margin of Dee and Eurydice's merging. "I feel it," Tomoe said, fingers squishing. "So strong, both of you."

Eurydice shuddered back up him, coaxing a building, agony-sweet flow of precum from Dee's cock. Her lips scraped past his ear and kissed Tomoe's nipple unto her mouth. Tomoe leaned over Dee's shoulders, her purring a deep rumble in her throat. Her hand swirled around Dee's nectar-coated shaft, her grip firm and sure, in counterpoint to Eurydice's slow, shivery humping.

The head of Dee's cock smarted with rising pressure. He faltered, bucking, but Tomoe pressed even closer behind him and kept his cock buried deep inside Eurydice. The green girl pulled free of Tomoe's breast. She grazed her lips in circles over Dee's mouth. "Let it happen," she begged, panting and fevered and still humping, humping, humping. "Cum in me. Fill me. Green Man, Dee…You've made me…" Dee twitched, pressure searing inside him. "…You made me so…" Dee went rigid. Eurydice sobbed, "Happy."

She slammed her mouth over his and he came.

Jo Versus the Volcano

Jo rolled onto her back, panting. The early-afternoon Sun high in a cloudless sky reflected off the flowers and Jo's borrowed coppery dress, casting everything in the light of an overexposed film. The breezy air above the green bed was sultry and so laden with floral perfume Jo felt awash in the breath of Mother Nature herself. If Mother Nature was horn-dogging, that is, because the sumptuous, soupy warmth that stewed the air and lapped at her skin like some huge, invisible, feather-light tongue was feeling her up and eating her out.

["…Listen, Jo: Dee's focused his kuzbu…"]

A bass voice thundered—"What. Is. My. Fucking. Name!"—followed by exultant twin cries—"Green Man!"—and Jo suddenly knew that the ethereal, energetic presence urging her toward another orgasm was, somehow, male. Not Mother Nature, she thought, her eyes sliding shut, her lips parting, drawing in air as thick and spiced and intoxicating as hot mulled wine. The Green Man. She hitched her dress up above her hips, spread her legs and opened herself to the Sun.

["…but when we step into the crop circle, you'll feel it full-bore…"]

Jo saturated. She lost herself in the Sun' dazzling white-blue light, the overpowering aroma of blooming growth, and the firm pressure of satin petals on every side and inch of her skin. Flowers pressed whispery soft into her ears, stroked her hair, nestled in the hollow of her neck, buoyed up her arms, nudged her back and ribs. Her parted legs were swallowed up in thousands of delicate, cool petals. How are they all pushing toward me, into me? Are they moving? Her eyes flickered open as the revelation struck her. The flowers were not moving against my skin. My skin is moving against the flowers. I really am growing!

["… It's going to be a bit…"]

The dizzying torridity of the air pervaded her pussy, and Jo's last coherent though before the strongest orgasm of her life lashed through her was, Oh shit oh fuck oh God I was right Calgon's taken me away and is fucking me sensele—

["…intense…"]

Her orgasm plateau'd and overflowed her pulsing sex, wracking her body in spasm of release and relief. Jo no longer thought, only felt. No longer observed, only experienced. Flower stems piled up between her fingers as her arms grew, pulped under her feet as her legs lengthened, her heels furrowing little troughs into the green bed. As her orgasm rushed-and-gushed, her muscles burned-and-rebuilt, over and over, as if a few years of volleyball workouts flew by in a few seconds.

As Jo came down from the timeless cumming, a terrible tenderness built up in her breasts. The coppery dress that felt so flowing and silky moments before had become confining and as scratchy as the shaggiest, wool knit sweater. Jo shot her hands under her dress, shielding her raw nipples against the ragged material with her palms. Skin met skin. The cooling sweat in her palms soothed her tender flesh even as it spread beneath her fingers, pushing against her hand in a bizarre, reverse game of cop-a-feel. My tits are trying to get to second base with my hands. The very idea filled her with giggles, but they died in her throat as the gradual pressure against her hands went on and on for a long, worrying while before subsiding.

She snuck a peek at her new peaks. She looked like someone had shoved two metal mixing bowls under her dress. The coppery material strained but managed to cover her new assets. The tension in the material only served to make her look bustier. Only served…wait a minute. "Oh, no!" She thrust her arms skyward, ignoring the new power sinew beneath her skin, watching only how her breasts bulged around her arms. "No, no, no!" She straightened her arms until they were perpendicular with her supine body, wincing as her tits squashed up her forearms.

An undulating shadow fell over Jo. "what?"

Jo squinted up at Unyx. The obsidian goth girl stood in the Sun, her outline obscured by the harsh light. "My serve," Jo told her.

Unyx dipped her head to the left, bowed her body to the right in a single, serpentine movement. With the sun in her eyes, Jo could not make out details, but she saw something loop and ripple behind the obsidian goth girl. your – what?"

"My volleyball serve," Jo whined. She pumped her right arm back and forth, making her right breast smack into the left. "I had the best underhand serve in the state. Now I've got…tits."

Unyx slithered closer and out of the sun. Her eye-mask shrank into black contacts. The tip of her tail swung to and fro high behind her head, a hypnotic metronome. "At least you've got…legs."

The Totally Organic Experience

"Pfft." Tomoe broke through the wall of tall heliotropes, eating out an overripe sunflower head. Her eyes fell on Dee's heaving, sweat-oiled back, and the flower head slipped through her fingers. "I've got a bigger fish to fry."

"Now or never," Unyx said, giving Jo's hand a quick squeeze.

Jo's hand froze. "Sorry." She squeezed back. "You just feel so, I dunno…"

Unyx wiggled her fingers between Jo's. "Slinky?" Jo bit her lip, nodded violently, eyes shut tight. Unyx's liquid black eye-mask unrolled across her skin, coating her face from eyebrow to sharp cheekbone. "just – let – it – happen."

Hand in hand, Jo and Unyx crossed the border of tall grass onto the flowering green bed. Both girls startled stiff, then relaxed into little giggles. Unyx knew the sensation exactly. When Ursula was ten years old, her parents had thrown her a surprise birthday party. They had executed it flawlessly, with a feint party, a little weekend soiree with a few friends and modest presents, the sort of party Ursula always had. On her actual birthday, they took her to the community center for violin practice, and instead there was candy and friends and candy and cake and candy and presents and a magician and candy and a belly-dancer and candy. It was simple, pure delight. Ursula had never felt that way again, had forgotten what uncomplicated pleasure—cake and friends and dancing and candy, candy, candy—could feel like.

Unyx felt it now. She cast any thought of nostalgia aside, let go of Jo, and embraced the air. "candy – candy – candy."

"Cumming," Jo groaned, knees buckling, dropping into a crouch among dozens of apple-blossomed amaryllis, their wide, white petals pinked, their fragrance head-spinning sweet. "Cumming, cumming, cumming." Her hair softened, thickened, its knots untangling. Licks of hair the color of antique brass fell into her face and onto her shoulders in luscious waves. The bruises on her arms and legs disappeared. "This is a yang bath?" she gasped, lolling through the flowers. "Oh, God, I feel so good." Her coppery dress cinched up, revealing a downy bush of golden curls and nether lips pouting and dewed, perfumed with floral fragrance and Jo's own earthy essence. "But it's so…so goofy." She giggled again, pushing blushing flowers into her face. "Calgon's taken me away and plans to fuck me senseless."

"this – yang – special." Unyx's blood rushed as Champaign. The scar on her cheek faded into nothing. The gray cobwebbing her second skin vanished into varnished lacquer-black. "good – goofy – sexy – senseless – guiltless." The blood music of nanogasm coruscated as nanomek replicated by the hundreds in her heart, then by the thousands throughout her chest, and tens of thousands across her limbs. Almost a hundred thousand nanogasms sparkled inside her, each one producing its own tiny burning wire of coiled, pre-orgasmic tension. Unyx had never felt this horny in either of her lives. "this – yang – is – dee."

Jo hummed drunkenly into a bouquet of crocus flowers, then pushed herself up by the elbows, her eyes wide. She reminded Unyx of a befuddled kitten, ears pricked in curiosity. Jo glanced down at her chest, teased open the neck of her dress with a finger, and peeked inside. "I'm…growing."

Unyx's laugh was rich. "definitely – dee." The nanomek singing inside her found her stomach, read the binding, and turned cranked Unyx's blood music volume up to Eleven. "uh – oh."

---

Dee broke his endless kiss, his mouth wet with tart honey, lips numb with the tang of lime. His senses swam in citrus-and-sex. His knees settled further into the mattress of flowers and woven wild growth. He gripped Eurydice's ankles, held them aloft. Eurydice, flat on her back, pushed on the green bed with her hands. Her pelvis rocked forward and rolled up Dee's thighs, welcoming the new angle his cock explored inside her. Her pussy was molten but her surface tension stayed firm, cooled with honeyed perspiration. Dee ran a hand up a leg as firm and clear as green glass, mouthed the sole of her foot, drinking drops of nectar. Dee arced his other hand beneath her, cupping and caressing. Her ass felt like globes of pliant glass dripping with velvet sweat.

Eurydice mewled—Nn! Nn!—punctuating each quiet cry with a punch of a fist against the bed. "Too good. Nn! Too much." She yanked on her hair. "Mad, I'm going mad!"

Dee tipped her chin up. Silvery motes of light scintillated her deep, darkling emerald eyes. "I love you, Eurydice," he told her, his rhythm into her slow but as strong as ever. "You know the safeword." The words came easy to him. "You can do anything you want. I'll do anything you want." His prick felt primed with precum, with the I-can-do-this-all-night sensation that usually only lasted a few minutes but now truly felt it would last forever. "Anything you want. For as long as you want."

Eurydice whickered in orgasm. "All ways! Always."

A shadow fell over her. Behind him, Tomoe whispered, "Oh, hey." Dee felt long fingers dance over his back, urgent, and eager. "Green Man."

Dee sat back, pulling Eurydice along. He stayed locked inside her, a hook perfectly fit into an eye. Tomoe sat on her knees behind him. She towering a good head above him, the tips of her raven hair tickling his ass, her mocha-colored nipples level with the nape of Dee's neck. She chewed her plush bottom lip. "Please, I just…" Her hands pressed flat but trembling against his back. "I want to hold you. To feel it for myself, just this one time." She tilted to look down at Eurydice, and implored. "Please."

Dee turned to Eurydice. "Anything you want," he told the breathless green girl, and smirked. "I'll do anything you want because I am so going to fuck your fucking brains out." Dee snarled, gathering Eurydice up in his arms, propping her into a sitting position on his lap, before dropping one hand to the green bed and slinging the other across the small of her back. He pushed up with his hand and haunches and his cock rammed straight upward into the very heart of her. "Now: What. Is. My. Fucking. Name!"

Tomoe fell against his back just as Eurydice, cumming and yowling, collapsed on top of him. Tomoe and Eurydice shrieked together, "Green Man!"

The Tomoe Show

"Aren't we all." Unyx took Jo by the hand, felt the brunette thrill at her touch. "C'mon, let's get started." She urged Jo toward the green bed. She almost asked, What's your name, Jo?, but caught her self just in time. "What's your name?"

"Jo." Jo wavered on her feet. "What're you going to do?"

Unyx sighed. The sounds of the fallow field played around them: Tomoe's throaty laughter, Raspberry's shuddery growls, Dee's fucking Eurydice insensate. "You said you heard Black Cherry in your head," Unyx told Jo. "What did it sound like? A walkie-talkie?"

"No." Jo thought. "It was like singing. Music. Not beautiful, but irresistible. I was dancing, all the time, no matter what I was actually doing. It felt like a mad dance."

"Blood music," Unyx agreed.

On the green bed, Tomoe grabbed her breasts, kneading and tweaking her chocolate-dark nipples between her long fingers. She inhaled, deep from the diaphragm. Her nipples climbed erect, thick as thumbs. The flesh beneath her hands swelled, forcing her fingers apart. She collapsed into laughter again, her tits weighty enough now to slam together, which just made her laugh harder.

Unyx gulped. "Uh, what were we talkin' 'bout?"

Jo, mesmerized by Tomoe's mammary extravaganza, managed, "Music. I think."

Tomoe rolled onto her tummy, presenting Unyx and Jo with her pert ass, and squashed dozens of flowers beneath her breasts. Her laughter slowed but her breath quickened as she dragged her new flesh through the sea of soft petals beneath her. She reached between her legs, pressed the smooth heads of tulips and poppies against her inner thighs. She swallowed the last of her giggles, pulled down her panties, and pushed the silken but firm flowers into her vulva. She rocked on her knees, gasping and shuddery, grinding against flowers and fingers, giving Unyx and Jo front-row seats.

Unyx swam lightheaded, her sex aflutter and flood, her nanomek heating up with prickly need. Her Ursula half had never felt a nanomek powered sex drive before—little burning wires by the thousands—her Nyx half had never felt an estrogen powered sex drive before. Got to simmer down before we just leap in and bury our heads in that big, juicy ass and that glorious pussy oh God we can smell it from here… Unyx burned some of her last remaining nanomek to increase her olfactory input and wallow in the smell of flowers and sex but the brunette's funk hit her inner Martha Stewart like a combo brick wall/cold shower.

"So," Unyx said, wrinkling her button nose, "blood music. That's Black Cherry's nanomek—you called it 'nova-whatsis'—inside you. There's just enough for you to hear, but it’s not loud enough to pinpoint the source. We gotta turn up the volume inside you a little bit, but not too much, then we can go in and turn it off. Understand?" Tomoe drove herself to a silent orgasm before them, brawny legs locked rigid, "Understand, Jo?"

"Uh. Huh?" Tomoe slumped into the blossoms and Jo came out from under her spell. "Oh. Yeah. Turn off the music. Sure." She turned. "What the Hell is that?"

Unyx held up a page torn out from the Sudoku book, covered in cryptic scrawl. "It's a binding." She smirked. "We've got a few tucked away in case of emergencies."

"Binding? Binding what?"

"We are going to bind ourselves to ourselves."

"Us?"

"No. Us. M-me. Unyx." The obsidian Goth girl touched a thin but long scar on her cheek. "Ursula and Nyx were in a car accident. They were close—Ursula inside Nyx, Nyx inside Ursula—but not close enough. To survive the crash, they sang the blood music—together. And now, we are Unyx. But if we are going to stop Black Cherry's music…" Unyx's contacts of living ink seeped into her eyes then over her lids into a black eye-mask. "you – must – sing – blood – music – with – us."

"Whoa, now." Jo hopped away. "You seem nice, kinda cute and sexy…" She looked Unyx up and down. "Who am I kidding; you're the cutest little thing I have ever seen in my life and sexy as Hell—I can't decide what I'd rather do, eat you up or eat you out. But I've had enough nova-whatsis music. I don't want to be a slave to the rhythm anymore. There's got to be another way."

Unyx nodded, ripping the page in two. "yes – separate – bind – Nyx – Ursula – keep – Unyx – Jo – separate." Unyx tore the page into fourths, made a square paper sandwich, and popped it into her mouth.

Unyx Exposition

Raspberry fell onto her back in the tall grass, knees bent, pelvis pumping, hand twitching against her gushy sex. She spoke through gritted teeth. "We're we supposed to be fucking his brains out right now? All I wanna do, all I can think about is Dee on top of me." Her index finger fluttered atop her clitoral hood. "Dee inside me. Dee cumming in me. It's like I'm tuned into channel Dee-eee…" Her last word stretched into a whine. She clutched at her breast, teasing a nipple erect. "…'Eezus Christ! I don't have enough nanomek left to get off anymore!" She frigged herself sloppy. "It just itches itches itches and I can't cum—just one more orgasm and I'll come apart I know I will, I—Ah fuck I'm goin' bugfuck!"

CeeCee quivered at the green bed's threshold. The chaotic carpet of flowers zipped around the bed's periphery, inches from feet the color of fading cornsilk. She held up her hand, and after a moment's hesitation, eased it forward, wincing as she passed the imaginary boundary of the green bed. A flush rushed down her fingertips, sallow yellow revitalizing into sunny lemon. "Raz. Oh, Raz, feel it." Her arm undulated forward, filling up with churning, vivid cream. "It's blood music."

Raspberry could only grunt. "Nanomek? Spooge-free nanogasm? Bull-fucking-shit." She squirmed a dainty foot onto the green bed, pinky toe brushing the lips of a blue tulip. Her jellified leg flashed an opaque violet. Raspberry squealed in surprise, yanked her leg back. The dark purple stole up her leg in an undercurrent of swirling inner gel. "Yes! Fuck yes! I'm finally gunna get laid, I'm gunna get Dee. But first…" She sat up, tongue caught between her teeth, finger fucking herself something furious. "I'm gettin' off."

---

Unyx braced herself against the tree, her eye-mask narrowing into a horizontal slit. "something — wrong."

"Oh, hey!" Tomoe's voice almost made Unyx jump out of her skins. "There you are, little sisters. I thought I…um." Tomoe stepped up beside her. "That's…um." Tomoe's eyes followed Eurydice's feet as they traced little helpless circles above Dee's head in the center of the green bed. Dee hugged her legs higher, dragging the green girl's hips into the air. "That's a lot of…" Eurydice's ass bounced against Dee's haunches in wet, meaty slaps. Eurydice could only babble nonsense words and rip flowers out of the ground, roots growing and wriggling about her hands before she let them fall. Tomoe gulped, hands toying with the neck of her blouse. "Kuzbu. Yeah. Lots."

Unyx thought it through. "kuzbu — kudzu — Green Man?" She shook her head. "missing — something — what?"

"You can't see it?" Tomoe popped open the top button of her white blouse.

Unyx's eye mask shrank into contact lenses as she squinted. "We think we see something but we keep getting distracted by the…you know." She blushed, silver on milk-white cheeks. "The Easy girl we're going to start fucking in a few minutes. This space-time/second sight stuff is new to both of us. The whole 'knowing the future but still living in the moment' thing? It's kinda like getting stoned, but nothing's funny and there's no munchies." Her blush darkened into grey. "Not the food kind, anyway."

Tomoe rubbed the flat plane of her chest above her breasts, forcing her blouse to fall open in a slanted V. "You're thinking fourth-dimensionally. Go up one more." Unyx set her jaw, head bobbing and weaving as if trying to peer through a crowd. Then her jaw dropped and she wobbled on her feet, grabbing the tree to keep her balance. "There you go," Tomoe drawled.

"Yang. Dee's kuzbu." Unyx shook her head. "It's not sperm. Nanomek is pure yin and no yang. But nothing lives without both, so meliae need yang.

"Don't we all," Tomoe sighed, taking a step toward the green bed.

Dee hooked his thumbs under Eurydice's knees, squeezed her thighs, and bore down into her. Her crooked legs bent back far enough for her tits to rebound off her knees as the shadow of his thick cock disappeared farther into her shining, translucent core than ever before. "What's my name?"

Tomoe took another step forward, unbuttoned the second button of her blouse, murmuring, "Green Man," an instant before Eurydice screamed the same reply at the sky.

Goorgy

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

Eurydice frowned down. "What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

CeeCee's lips squirmed, her jaw trembled, as she shook her head, h