Nocturnes and Other Nocturnes Page 15

  He came before me, spurting all over my face. I came immediately after. Then we licked each other clean, and the pleasure extended itself again and again until we both shrank to complete limpness.

  He sat up and then bent down to kiss me. Our tongues played together.

  He closed my eyes with his fingers. With both hands, he started massaging my balls and cock, kneading them like dough. Every squeeze sent ripples of pleasure rushing to my head.

  And then I felt his fingers wiggle inside me, going deeper with every stroke. At first I thought he was playing with my anus, but then he put a finger up my ass also. I reached down and discovered that my penis and balls were gone. I stroked the hood of my clitoris while his fingers probed the insides of my vagina and my ass. I whimpered with pleasure. Gradually, he withdrew his fingers while I kept masturbating.

  He kissed my left nipple. My breast expanded under his stimulation. He switched to the right and repeated the process. Again, my breast swelled.

  With my other hand, I caressed my chest. It was now smooth, hairless. And my breasts were large, firm yet soft.

  I shoved Kim away and examined myself. My hips were round, my stomach smooth. My breasts were beautifully voluptuous. I squeezed my new breasts, my hands unequal to the task of containing them, and I felt the grin spread across my face. I touched my cheeks, and all trace of stubble had vanished; my jaw, my chin, and my nose were all subtly smaller, my lips a bit fuller.

  I looked at Kim; his cock was hugely erect.

  He held my wrists to the floor and entered me with a swift, hard thrust. I gasped in pain – but there was pleasure, too. He slid backward and forward with tenderness, gently biting my nipples with each thrust. I lost track of time and of myself as his cock moved within me, filled me up. Eventually, I pulled him closer to me and bit his shoulder while he plunged deeper into me with increasing force and almost violent abandon. I felt my orgasm well up until my whole body was ready to explode. And then I screamed, and so did he, while he continued moving inside me until I came a second time, and then a third time.

  He withdrew and flipped me around. Groaning deep, satisfied Mmms, he planted admiring kisses on my ass cheeks. He ran his fingernails down my legs, until he reached my feet, on which he playfully nibbled. I squirmed, on the edge of feeling tickled. He parted my ass with his hands and licked out my anus. I thrashed wildly, but his strong grip kept my ass pressed against his mouth.

  He pulled away; my crack was dripping with saliva. I felt his penis probe my butt. I squirmed against it; he grabbed me by the waist and slowly, very slowly, drove his long, thick, hard, and very wet cock up my ass. He rode me delicately, and the movements of his cock took over my awareness. While he was inside me, my world was defined by that sensation. Then I felt him tense up and heard him gasp. As his spent penis shrank, my anus contracted and pressed him out.

  I sat down and saw him precariously balanced on his knees, his head still swaying in ecstasy. I reached out and held his hands.

  He smiled drowsily at me and leaned into me. He kissed my neck. He kissed my breasts, lingering a long time on each one. He kissed my stomach. And then his face disappeared between my legs, and he licked out my cunt.

  He licked me through two more orgasms, and then sat up and kissed the palms of my hands.

  I smiled at Kim. Kim who was a woman again, with smooth skin, small perky breasts, and a thick bush around her cunt.

  She bent down and kissed me on the mouth. We caressed each other’s breasts, playing with our nipples, necking furiously. My lips became raw with kissing. When I pulled back, we both laughed, and then, sitting up, we hugged each other with all our strength.

  She cupped my face with her hands and pecked my cheeks with her open lips. She squeezed my ample tits and, pressing herself against me, rubbed her nipples against mine. We both simultaneously laughed and gasped. She reached down and pressed her hand against my eager cunt, and I let out a long, languorous sigh. Her fingertips traced the outline of my labia, and I shivered with delight and anticipation. She bent down, spread my legs, and poked her tongue into my ass crack, taking her time, but gradually, eventually, running it up to my moist pussy. She pushed it inside, her lips brushing against my labia. She continued upward and pressed her tongue against my excited clit.

  My back arched. She grabbed my waist and turned me around. She lay down on top of me, her breasts pressed against my back, her hands caressing my hips.

  She slid downward and kissed the fleshy cheeks of my butt, lingering there. Then she moved up to my back and licked it methodically, until her tongue had tasted every millimetre of its sweaty skin. She kissed my nape, then she slipped her hands under me, grabbed my tits, and lifted me up.

  I faced her, and we guided each other’s hands toward our swollen cunts. I came almost immediately. Dizzy with pleasure, I sat behind her, put my arms around her, and pressed her back against my now tender breasts. Cupping one of her tits with one hand, my other hand moved down to between her legs. She was prodigiously wet. While I played with her nipple, I masturbated her. When she came, her body seemed to melt into mine.

  She laid her head down on my breasts, and I enfolded her in my arms. We stayed like that until sunup, which wasn’t long in coming. We had fucked nonstop for more than twelve hours.

  She gave me a final kiss, put her clothes on, and left without a word. My skin tingled deliciously. I touched myself: my voluptuous breasts had vanished, my chest hair had grown back, my vagina had closed, and cock and balls had returned. My penis was raw and my ass was sore, but even the pain felt good. I never wanted to come down from that nirvanic post-multiorgasmic stupor.

  But less than five minutes later, the landlord pounded on my door, yelling for me to open up. So much for serenity. I quickly slipped into my outerskin and pulled on some clothes, then opened the door. Immediately, he chewed me out for making such a racket all night. Said this wasn’t a brothel. Said he’d throw me out if it happened again. As if I could let myself have sex here again knowing now that he and his wannabe porn-starlet wife could hear everything. Betcha they enjoyed the audio show. After all, they hadn’t interrupted us. He slammed the door shut when he left.

  My outerskin was itchy, suffocating – alien. I couldn’t bear to keep it on.

  While I had breakfast - I was ravenous; I ate three times as much as usual – I heard them fucking upstairs, with their customary overrehearsed rhythm of call-and-response moans and screams.

  ~

  I have shed my outerskin – forever. It’s obsolete technology; my body can now defend itself. Adapt as it needs to.

  It’s an easy task to mold my flesh so that it appears like outerskin to prying eyes.

  Around campus, everywhere I glance, there’s desirable flesh. Girls and women of all shapes and sizes. Long-legged elegant women with sinuously lithe bodies. Petite elfin girls. Giggling girls. Chubby girls with wonderfully plump butts. Brash tomboys. Fashionistas more lovely than any cover model.

  ...And the guys. Broad-shouldered and classically handsome. Bearish, with comforting bellies and strong arms. Athletic and tautly muscled. Absentminded, lost in their own worlds. Unabashedly macho. Ambiguously androgynous.

  All kinds of beautiful bodies – I fantasize about peeling off their outerskins, about tasting their sweat and juices. About smearing my juices on their naked flesh.

  I come to realize that I release pheromones that attract the uninfected to me. Pheromones that their outerskins fail to filter.

  In other people’s bedrooms I mold and reshape my lovers’ bodies to the ebbs and flows of my desires, my own body transforming itself in response to their unleashed fantasies. I free their flesh, their identities.

  I understand now that our entire economy is based on the fear that without outerskins or ecolocks we would all die.

  I understand that there are interests – powerful economic interests – that will not allow this to change.

  I understand that I am now a terrorist.

 
~

  I’ve moved upstairs, gratefully abandoning my small, dark apartment. Trying to weasel out of paying the monthly rent I surprised even myself by seducing my landlord and his wife. The playful tenderness of our threesome astonishes us time and again, but never more than that first time.

  Fondling his own big breasts never loses its charm for him. She laughs hysterically whenever she fucks either of us in the ass with her cock, which she has learned to mold into different shapes, which further amuses her to no end.

  All You Can Eat, All the Time

  So, like, my hair is freshly dyed, as black as I can get it. All the clothes I’m wearing are black, too: scarf, leather coat (with a lacy bustier underneath), leather gloves, skirt, fishnets, and boots that go mid-calf. Then there’s my skin. I mean, I’m, like, pretty pale to start with. But I smear white makeup all over my face and glam it up with white glitter. It makes my skin almost glow in the dark. Last touch: white eyeshadow, plus some black eyeliner and glossy blue lipstick. I am, like, stunning. Out of this world. Otherwordly.

  I mean, really, it’s time I got laid already. I’m in Montreal, for fuck’s sake. Sin city of the East Coast, blah, blah, blah.

  I mean, it’s fucking great here. The nightlife. The music. The bars. The cute girls. The hot boys. The even hotter men. It’s, like, all you can eat, all the time. But I haven’t brought anyone home yet. And I haven’t let anyone take me to their place, either. I mean, I’m no prude. In rural Manitoba, where I’m from, there’s nothing to do except sex, even if, like, there’s no selection to speak of. So you do it, because it’s marginally better than not doing it.

  But here it’s overwhelming. Paralysing, in fact. With so much to choose from, how do you choose? Plus, the truth is, before tonight, I wasn’t sure that I was ready. I mean, I’m not entirely sure even now, but enough is enough, you know? There’s so much to take in, living in the city on my own. I don’t want to lose myself in anyone yet. I just want to find out who I can be in all this wonderful, beautiful noise happening all around me. But I’m beginning to feel like a nun or something. So tonight is the fucking night.

  Sometimes, sure, I let some boys and girls kiss me when I go out. Even feel me up a bit if I’m really into them. But I’ve never let it go farther than that. Not yet. Especially, I’ve never let myself get within grabbing range of the men. You know the ones I mean. The ones with the irresistible wolf eyes; the ones who move like they own the space around them without being arrogant about it; the ones with the strong hands you know would just make you willingly submit.

  No, them, I’ve stayed away from, because I know that’s exactly where I could lose myself the most, the deepest.

  ~

  So, like, almost everyone I see is out in groups, laughing and chatting it up and shit. Me, as usual, I’m wandering through all this solo. It’s like I’m a spectre – an undead shade haunting the Montreal nightlife.

  I, like, go to my favourite club, BizBiz Bizarre. It’s in the Plateau, not too far from where I live, and the people there tend to dress up in all kinds of weird funky ways. But I look so amazing right now that, even among that crowd, I should stand out.

  But for some reason it’s totally boring tonight. The music is, like, totally 1990s. I mean, Red Hot Chili Peppers – really? The crowd is kinda thin and so obviously straight. What is this – like, frat night or something?

  Suddenly, there are three guys dancing around me. They keep bumping into me and laughing. They’re all of them freaking tall and buff. And the cookie-cutter way they’re dressed – they’re so obviously rich kids. The type who become doctors or lawyers. Their laughter gets meaner and meaner. I try to wriggle away from them, but they’re fucking herding me, slowly boxing me in tighter and tighter. Aside from that, though, they’re, like, totally ignoring me. But they know I’m there, alright. I can feel their boners when they grind into me.

  Enough is, like, fucking enough.

  I, like, scream my fucking head off – loud enough to be heard over the music. Like a fucking harpy from hell. It creates enough distraction that I manage to escape. I don’t look back. I’m outta there in a flash, out on the street, just running away as fast as I can.

  ~

  So, like, I’m an idiot. I could at least have been running toward my apartment. But, no. I was too, like, flustered. A fucking helpless, hysterical victim. This is so not right. Anyway, I’m not that far away from my place.

  Fuck. Walking home alone. Fucking alone. Again. I am such a wimp. Such a loser. What a fucking disappointment tonight was. I mean, I’m totally disappointed in myself. I know it wasn’t my fault, but, fuck, this is so not what I wanted.

  Suddenly I feel the hair at the back of my neck rise, and a shiver goes down my spine. And I’m hemmed in again. It’s those same fucking guys from the club. They shove me into an alley, behind a dumpster. Invisible from the street. Yeah, a cliché, but fucking scary nonetheless. I know better than to wait. I make to scream right away, but, before any sound can escape from my lungs, rough, stinky hands cover my mouth. I try to bite at the flesh of the dude’s palm, but my jaw is immobilized. This guy is way too strong for me.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  I struggle – this can’t happen; I am not a victim. I refuse to become a victim. But I can barely breathe and I’m too fucking weak.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  Then I hear a few strangled gasps ... I feel a sharp burst of wind, like a mini-hurricane or something ... Followed by a few hard thuds ... And I’m free.

  I should run while I can, but I feel safe. And curiosity wins over caution. I look around. All three guys are on the ground, on their backs. At least two of them are, like, totally dead, their throats slashed, their chests and bellies ripped open. There’s a figure hunched over the third guy. A man with his face buried in the guy’s neck. Like he’s eating or something.

  I really should get the hell out of here, but I’m, like, totally mesmerized.

  I don’t want to make a sound, but, just like a stupid little girl, I gasp.

  The man turns to look at me, and I, like, totally recognize him. Before I can say anything, though – poof! – there’s this dark mist, and he’s gone. Like he hadn’t even been there in the first place.

  But I’m not the one who tore open the bodies of the three dead guys who are still right there at my feet, with their insides oozing out.

  I am so outta there.

  ~

  So, like, men? Older guys. Right? Stay away from them. Especially the one who lives across the hall from me.

  I don’t know his name. Don’t know anything about him. No, that’s wrong. I know two things. One, he’s way too fucking sexy for my own good. I mean, fuck. His eyes are so dark and strong that I swamp up my panties every time I get even the merest glimpse of them. Plus, he’s freaking tall. Like, close to seven feet or something. His long hair is the colour of a particularly dark red wine, with only a hint of grey. And he moves like a panther. Quietly, confidently, but ready to pounce at any moment. Also, I know that he can kill and disembowel three buff guys in the space of a few seconds.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  ~

  So, like, it’s a week later. And in that whole time I haven’t seen him once. Not a single time. I know he’s there, though. Because he, like, listens to music 24/7. And the walls here are shit. Good thing I don’t ever have anyone over, because, like, everyone could hear the sex show.

  The old dude’s got weird tastes. It’s like, one minute it’s hardcore punk rock, and then some avant-garde clangy shit, or like really melodic chamber music. Often he binges on crap like Anne Murray or Barry Manilow.

  Why the hell am I scared, though?

  I mean, he saved me, right? If he’d wanted to, he could have had me as dessert. I’m sure I taste way better than those frat dudes did. Maybe he’s just into guys?

  For the, like, gazillionth time, I stand in front of his door, my finger millimetres away from the doorbell. But I chicken out and run back into my roo
m. I always do.

  ~

  So, like, I go to work. Boring. I go out. Boring. I stay out all night long. Boring. I get drunk. Boring. I get high with anything I can get into my mouth, my lungs, my nose, my veins. Boring. People flirt with me. Boring. Movies. Please – so boring. Everything is boring. Even eating is boring.

  And when I masturbate?

  What do you think? I see one thing and one thing only: that man from across the hall, blood and gore dripping down his face, looking at me. Seeing me. I replay that over and over again. And I know what I saw then and can still see in my mind: concern.

  But why the fuck should he care?

  And I come so fucking hard.

  ~

  So, like, I don’t usually follow the news. I don’t even have a TV. But somebody left this newspaper on the table in the lunch room at work. And the headline says, Woman in Wheelchair Saved. Assailants Brutally Killed.

  So, of course, I know right away. I read the whole article anyway. It mentions other incidents suspected to have been the work of the homicidal vigilante: a little boy rescued from a limousine (three men dead); an old man saved from a drunk driver (only one death that time); a twosome of armed robbers eviscerated while threatening a cashier at a convenience store (but the cameras only picked up a blur); a gang of teenage boys who had been torturing and killing neighbourhood cats were torn to pieces. According to the paper, my own trio of would-be rapists seems to have been the first incident. I never reported anything, but of course the bodies were found.