Spudboy is the socket today. Maybe it'll be me tomorrow. Regardless, he holds the klygat to himself, and he musta turned it on because we crawl into his stomach as always until dim red reeky humid stink of it washes us from our grey tomb into the bright new place.
Like here. There we be, Spudboy and Gug and me, the three of us fading in and clothed in blue ice and glowing milk a second, then Spudboy adjusts and we integrate.
Oh, look! Us guys have become three chicks on some beach. And Spudboy's giggling (all girlish now, of course) because this is his favorite one. Me, I've done it enough, but it's still a good one, so I play along.
Oh yeah; fine beach day. Clearass blue sky and just the right hot; salt clean smell, good ol' sun straight up there and the water a nice blue you just don't get now even if you could get there. Big crowd of the folks... Looks like we're in the late twentieth by the clothes of it, 'cause there's hardly if any a bare chicknipple or crotchfur anywhere, but they sure are slung nice and snug in them little cloth hammocks they wear.
There's your basic water and white sand and shit; little brat larvae piling it up and shoveling it down and getting wet, fatass old man swimmers splishing about like half-skinned apes and young buff rocky-cocks struttin' their mating dances in fronta chicks like us.
So we're on this blue blanket, and we see the young rocky-cocks and old puffed-up fatfux and such glancing our way, and there's the other chicks getting jealous and giving us oggles of doom that'd crack rocks. Perfect... So we stretch and pose it, all obvious-like, and when enough of 'em are noticing, it's time to begin...
Yeah, we gotta be looking good, 'cause Spudboy's deeply plugged into it. He's got me brunette this time, heavy curly black hair down my back, body long and lean, tits not too big, black soft hammock swaddling my chest and hips. Can't see my face of course, but I'll bet I'm dark and intelligent-like, all deep blue eyes like somebody you could argue with about philosophy or fuck for days and figure either was as good as the other. I stretch and flex.
Gug's a blonde woman, which suits him. He's all tit and ass and deep dark tan and that red hammock just rages it on out, accentuation-like. And Gug's got the face of a goddess. Damn, I'd get a rocky-cock, if I had one in this body. But there are other effects, same as that, and that's what we're here to do anyway. He's looking at me, that blonde hair all tossed around that fuckin' perfect face, and I must be good 'cause I see his... Well, HER, nipples coming up.
Spud's gotta be his redhead gal, of course. And DAMN he is fine, fair light honey skin and built to the hilt all athletic-like and sweet little freckles, like yer God's own tomboy; this wee green hammock just barely upside a string, leaving only the dark core to the imaginings. He's got the moves down real good, and all snakylike he slinks about and throws his sweet head back, cascading that fire hair all over those smooth shoulders, and me an' Gug are just watching in awe and oooooh yeah! I feel it coming on.
But that's what we came here for.
About three feet over, closest to Spudboy, there's ma and pa middle-aged-fat-tourist on their own damn blanket. She's a hairless moose in a yellow polka dot hammock, her skin's all sunburnt blue-veined cellulite, hair balled up in a farmwife afro, baking red in the sun and needing only an apple in her mouth to complete the picture. He's fat and greasy and fishbelly white, hairs tufting and poking out everywhere, belly surrendering under its own mass to gravity's desperate pull -- a mountain of pink flesh melted into the shit-brown blanket.
Spud looks over at 'em. "Umm... Sir?"
Ooooh! Damn she's got a sweet voice! Like a fuckin' Siren she calls that fatfuck, but boy if it don't stir my embers too. I'm getting wet.
Again... "Sir?"
He looks over at Spudboy's firm young female body. You can see the desire take root in him like crabgrass. Bedamned if his cocky don't get rocky so quick you can hear the skin ripping.
"Sir? Could you rub some suntan lotion on me and my friends?" That poor fatfuck's fantasy just came true. Spud turns and glances at us with that fine, fine face, and gives us a wink. We wink back at the fatfuck, like it was just for him. We all look at fatfuck. I smile.
Damn if a wife can't sense when a guy's thinking with his rod, an' has to put a stop to it. She wakes up, sees us, looks at him, and SLAPS him hard across the face. "Don't you even THINK it, Cedric! I'm WARNING you!"
We giggle and wave at him, while he's looking back and forth 'tween his wife and us, an expression on his face like, like... Like a kicked puppy wanting to be loved but not understanding why you're hurting him. You can see him contemplating whether to gamble it all and plunge deeply into our fleshy delights, or stick to hell and go home with his pigwench. And he just KNOWS a few minutes of pleasure with us would make up for twenty years of wagging his weasel in the shower every morning and plugging it into that sweaty sexless sowmound of a woman once a decade.
But he's a fucking shriveled coward. "Sorry, girls," he smiles and shrugs.
His wife says, "Goddam RIGHT you're sorry!" and punches him, hard, in a kidney. Then she flops back down, obviously spent and satisfied, and he sinks down and they go on like nothing happened.
Ok, time for plan "B."
I arch and stretch my lithe body, and reach over to Gug, and plant a deep wet kiss right on his... I mean, HER lips. An' we go at it like that, necking and chewing face, 'til Spud figgers he ain't getting his due. So he starts kissing Gug all up and down his arms and legs and belly and such, and then he gets to working on me the same, and I'm getting major wet and horny and needful. So I start kissing whatever flesh I can see, and damn if there ain't tits EVERYWHERE, and that's just too much for a guy like me, whether I'm in a woman's body or not.
So I pull off my hammock, topwise, and I yank off Gug's, and Spudboy tears off his, and we just keep on working and kissing away. And so there we are, laying wet tongue to each other's nipples and breasts and bellies and such, and as you can well imagine, some other folks are starting to take notice.
Yeah, you can hear 'em calling to each other about the "lezzes goin' at it," and I'm just laughing inside, like... Because if they only knew, right?
And you can hear the sow woman from one blanket over, yellin' at her servile manflesh, and saying shit like, "DON'T YOU DARE LOOK, CEDRIC!" And I'll bet he ain't daring, neither.
But I'm getting way too horny, and I gotta have resolution, so I figure to inspire the process... I rip off Spud's lower hammock, and there's just the finest redhaired puss you ever did see. I get down there and work my tongue through the tissues 'til I reach that wee key to his girlish heart, and start lapping like a sheepdog slurping water outta the toilet bowl. And he shrieks and moans like the woman he is. At that point, Gug gets inspired -- bless his soul -- and starts working on me. If he weren't so damn good at it, and keeping me distracted that way, I'd be worried that Gug was missing out. Then I notice we're wormed around in such away that we're each doin' another, so Spud's on Gug, all of us together kinda like a snake eating its own tail.
Now the CROWD, let me tell you, is finding this mighty amusing. They've packed right in and shuffling for spectator space, and the guys in the back are probably selling tickets. Or buying them. They get to yelling, "GO! GO! GO!" like we needed encouragement, and I'm just about to blow, when...
Some asshole or other starts muscling through the crowd and shouting "BREAK IT UP! BREAK IT UP!"
And then there's these two uniformed bigass fat cops in mirror shades standing over us and pulling us apart and standing us up and wrapping us with towels. And the crowd is damn pissed, as you'd expect, and you can hear 'em saying shit like, "Fucking pigs!" and such.
But Gug's always a quick one, he is, because he sidles up to the one young cop -- naught more than a damn pup and stupid as an egg - who turns big horny in an instant for this gorgeous fuck-me blonde. As you know, as soon as the blood makes the cocky rocky, it makes the brain drain.
So Gug easily pulls the guy's gun, cocks it, points it into copboy's ear, and blows half his head away like a ripe melon. Blood and brain and skull and hair splatters all over me, 'cause I'm right close, and it looks like the bullet was still moving pretty good, 'cause good ol' fatfuck over there pops a fountain of blood from his gut. Before the other cop can even think, Gug just bangs him the same way in a crimson spray of death, 'cause he's FAST like nobody in this time, anyway. Fatfuck pukes, and spouts blood and yellow and brown vomit all down himself before he keels. And folks start screaming like hell's banshees and running about like stirred ants.
Well, we look at each other, and I guess we're all a bit pissed because we didn't get to finish the sex, but there's always another time. So Spud pulls the plug, and we start to drain back. Just before we're out, we can kinda see shit from above. I can see those three good little girls -- who only wanted to have a good time at the beach -- suddenly waking up to the realization that they've fucked like lesbians on the beach and killed a pair of cops. I just catch a glimpse of their bewilderment and shock, and then we're back in the tombs and Spudboy's spinning down the klygat and shaking off the residual charge. Sometimes I think we oughta go back and see what happens next, but there's so much other good shit to do, that we just never get around to it.
Anyway, we just laugh and laugh, 'cause that was a really good one. And I'm already thinking about tomorrow, when I'll be the socket and we'll do something big like maybe blow up that government building in Oklahoma I heard about once, or off a president. That's always good for a giggle.