Dear Reader,
If you’ve never met Grusha and Violet before, you might consider reading their first collaboration, Fuck-Talk, first. Then again, you might not…
______________________________________________________________________
In the days of the First People’s Republic, there were two friends. I say friends – but actually, they lived a long way apart.
One
lived in the great city of Bilbao, by the banks of the Mississippi. A
proletarian under the rule of the Republic, he laboured all day in the
stockyards.
The
other lived in a farmhouse atop a hill halfway between Szechwan and Surabaya. A
peasant in the lands of the Grand Duke, she tilled the earth growing kailan and
pomegranates.
They
were Good Persons, both of them.
The
first was called Grusha. He was a middle-aged married man with a slightly
flabby waistline.
The
second was called Violet. She was a pretty young woman with dark hair and a
gender-flexible partner.
Despite
their distance, they felt very close – almost as if they ought to be one person.
Or at least, have one savings account.
This
is all very Brechtian. Verfremdungseffekt and all
that. Don’t take it too literally.
~~~~~
Anyway…
Grusha awoke
one morning from an unsettled night, to find he had a cunt.
Violet awoke
the same morning to find herself sporting a cock.
It was not immediately obvious to
Grusha that anything was amiss. The first thing he noticed was the absence of
morning wood. Normally, he liked waking up with an incipient erection: it gave
those first bleary moments of the day more optimism than would normally be
afforded him by his habitual exhaustion, dehydration, back-ache and caffeine-
and/or nicotine-deprivation. It gave him a choice as to whether to leap out of
bed to start the day, or to stroke his dick absent-mindedly for a few minutes
whilst letting the blood begin to circulate and the mind begin to roam. Or,
sometimes, it encouraged him to shuffle over, swivel round, and start eating
out his wife’s asshole (she usually slept curled up on her side, making
cunt-access initially challenging), in the hope of eliciting a pre-breakfast
fuck.
This morning, however, there was,
apparently, no erection. Ah, the
challenges of middle-age! Grusha sighed. Undeterred, he reached down to cop
a feel. Yes, the pubic hair was there, leading the way to where his cock,
presumably flaccid, should be. But it wasn’t. Blearily, Grusha reached further
down between his legs, ignoring an unexpected dip in his crotch. It wasn’t
until he found his middle finger touching his own perineum that he fully
realized that something was wrong. Panicking slightly, he retraced his steps,
till he found that strange dip he had noticed in his pubic hair. He pressed
slightly, and was alarmed to feel it give way to reveal a softly thatched
vertical cleft, gently opening up to allowing the tip of his finger to slip
inwards.
Violet, on the other hand, noticed
the moment she awoke that something was different. It felt like something very significant was going on between her
legs. For a second it felt as though her clitoris was larger than usual – as if
she had been frigging it for a very long time. But then she remembered that she
had only just woken up, so couldn’t have been rubbing one off since last night
at the latest.
Oh?
She reached
down to investigate, expecting to feel her swollen bud, and perhaps to be able
to play with it for a while. Maybe a bit of rubbing would help open her up and
elicit some lovely cunt-slime which she could then use to lubricate her clit
further. Violet liked the feel of her cunt, especially the way her fuck-lips
could get all flappy and dangly when aroused. And she liked the taste when she
licked the juice off her fingers. Yes,
that would be a nice way to start the day…
However, she never got that far,
for, where she was expecting her clit to be, there was something else. It was
still flaccid, but definitely bigger than she was expecting. Somewhat alarmed,
she reached around it, to find two flabby sacks of skin, each housing a testicle…
“FUCK!” screamed Grusha, kicking off
the bedclothes in panic. He looked down, and where he would have expected to
see his cock, if not erect, at least there,
dangling – there was nothing. At least, nothing he could see from this angle.
He leant forward as far as he could go, and all he could see was a mat of wiry
dark brown pubic hair, disappearing over the horizon of his crotch. He tried to
get a closer look, but – “ouch!” – felt a twinge in his hips and pulled back.
Despite the noise he was making, his
wife appeared fast asleep. Just as well,
he thought, deciding instead to investigate by touch. Curious, he reached again
between his legs to find that cleft just below where he had expected his cock
to be. Like a little forested valley, it fell away between two soft ridges, and
between those, two more flaps. “Ouch,” he exclaimed again, as fingers chafed
against dry labia. Instinctively, he licked his fingers and tried again. This
attempt worked better than before, and the flaps gently gave way, so he could
slip the tip of his finger between them.
“FUUUUUCK!” screamed Violet, also
kicking off the bedclothes. Panicking, she leant over to check that her partner
was asleep: but yes, she seemed oddly undisturbed by the commotion going on in their
shared bed. Violet sat up and examined the tackle now hanging from her crotch.
It was flaccid and floppy, both penis and testicles dangling unremarkably.
There seemed to be rather of lot of loose skin, making the whole assemblage
resemble a small bunch of prunes – the two testicles swinging gently an almost
comical distance below the rest. Instinctively, she tightened her pelvic floor
muscles, and the testicles pulsated upwards momentarily, before resuming their
rest position. Weird, she thought.
It took a while for Violet to work
out which way was up with the penis. Surely
cocks aren’t all like this! she thought to herself. But then she remembered
that her last cis-boyfriend had been Jewish – so much neater and tidier. This
foreskin seemed indecently capacious, as if it were designed for a cock several
inches longer than the one now between her thighs. I guess that’s OK, thought Violet. Must be tough the other way round though...
Meanwhile,
Grusha was wondering: Which way now? He spat on his fingers again,
slathering as much saliva as he could over the surface of his new-found vulva.
He decided – like, perhaps, a typical male – to go for the full-frontal attack,
pushing his middle finger into his pussy as deep as it would go. “Fuck!” he
moaned, not so much in pleasure as in astonishment at feeling his own finger
caressing him internally in a space which had never existed until now. This was
not like fingering his asshole, he decided; asshole was fun, definitely – but
this cunt was like nothing on earth. He started to explore, wriggling his
finger back and forth, and twiddling it around every which way. Very pleasant,
but nothing earth-shattering yet, until he curled his finger upwards and round,
and it stroked softly against the front wall of his pussy. “Oh my fucking God,”
he muttered to himself: this was new – and this was good.
Violet managed eventually to
negotiate her way towards finding out how to pull the foreskin of her new penis
back. She wasn’t quite sure why she was doing this, but she was just curious to
find something which wasn’t skin. And there it was: a diddy soft dickhead, dark
pink and slightly shrivelled, poking out from between the folds. She hawked a
large gob of spit, dribbled it down onto her new genitalia, and began to coat
her cock with it, allowing the foreskin to pull back even further. But it
wasn’t until, while exploring the underside of the glans, she accidentally
brushed her wettened finger against the frenulum, that she squealed in
pleasure. And immediately, without so much as a by-your-leave, she noticed her
cock begin to grow...
Finding his new G-spot reminded
Grusha that just beyond his front pussy wall should be a clitoris. Grusha had always found it a bit of a thankless
task finding his wife’s clitoris: usually, when it needed to be found (i.e.,
when finger- and tongue-foreplay was called for) it was tiny and hidden, but
when it swollen and aroused it hardly mattered any more whether the infernal thing
could be precisely located. But this was a chance, Grusha thought, to do some
serious genital orienteering.
And so Grusha withdrew his middle
finger from his cunt, enjoying the sensation of sliding it out between his
pussy-lips for the first time in his life. It was then that he noticed that it
was coated with a thin layer of slime. Oh
wow, he thought. Cunt-juice – yeah!
He brought his hand up to his lips, breathing in the coveted fragrance. He put
the finger in his mouth and sucked the slime off. “Fuck, that’s good!” he said
out loud. He wanted more.
This time, though, he decided not to
go for the full-frontal attack, remembering that it had been his intention –
hadn’t it? – to explore his clit. Wetting his middle finger again, whilst again
savouring the residual cunt-flavour, he returned it to his crotch, sliding it
gently up and down between his pussy-lips, teasing them slowly open and
eliciting yet more slime from within. But then, as he slid his moist finger
slowly upwards, it reached a place where the lips would no longer part…
Oh fuck! thought Violet, as she watched her
cock begin to grow. And as it did, a pleasure grew in her crotch that she had
never felt the like of before, seemingly in proportion to the size and
stiffness of her cock. This is fucking weird, she thought, kinda like
a horn-o-meter. The hornier I feel, the bigger it gets; and the bigger it gets,
the better it feels. And look, you can tell how horny I am by the angle! Violet
let go of her cock, experimenting by ceasing all manual stimulation and
thinking about something totally unsexy – let’s see, changing a toaster plug
– and immediately her cock started to droop again. Aww, sweet! she
thought, poor thing. I wonder whether I can make it go hard without touching
it at all. And so she began to talk to herself, reciting some of her
favourite porn lines: “Oh yeah, baby, you wanna see my dick all stiff and hard,
that feels so fucking good, baby, go on, suck that cock deep into your fucking
mouth, make me fucking cum all over your slut face, make it –”
She stopped, thinking, Wait a
moment, I’m a lesbian – why am I talking like a fucking male pornstar? I like
cunt, after all, and I… hang on, do I still have a cunt hidden underneath all
this shit? After all… She reached down further, beyond the base of her
cock, then around behind her dangling balls, and…
“Motherfuck!” she whispered, as her
fingers found a pair of pussy-lips lurking below her testicles. “I’m a
futanari; I’m a fucking dickgirl!” she squealed in delight. She tightened her
scrotum again, and her cunt-lips became easier to reach – and stroke. They were
already moist, and so, gripping her stiff cock again with one hand, she slipped
two fingers of the other into her warm futa cunt.
“Fucccckkkk!” hissed Grusha, as his
fingers found his clit. This was like nothing he had ever felt before: a bit
like stroking his dickhead, but closer in, more intimate – and it had the added
advantage of proximate lubrication available from his new-found pussy. He
wasn’t sure whether to concentrate on the clit or the flaring fuck-lips at
first, before thinking, Fuck it, why not both? In for a penny… Both
hands between his thighs now, he slid two fingers of his left hand into his
slippery cunt, while his right concentrated on gently rubbing his clit. “Oh
fuck, this is good,” Grusha muttered.
Violet, meanwhile, was in seventh
heaven. Double pleasure: fuck yeah! she thought to herself, as she
started to pleasure both cock and cunt simultaneously. The cunt bit was easy:
she knew how to do that, knew where her two curling fingers needed to reach to
find that sweet rough spot inside. But the fact that she didn’t have a clit as
such was initially a bit disorientating – and pleasuring a cock from this angle
was something she’d never done before. It took her a while to realise that most
of the shaft itself was not particularly sensitive, and that the frenulum was,
if anything, oversensitive. But trial and error brought her back to that stupid
foreskin, and she realised that, by wrapping two fingers and a thumb around the
glans and sliding the skin back and forth across her cock-head, she had perfect
control over her self-stimulation: smooth, moist, exquisitely pleasurable, and so
easy to calibrate. “Fuuuuuuuck!” she squealed, as she began to stroke cock and
G-spot simultaneously. “Fuck fuck fuck this is good!”
Grusha, however, did not have the
advantage of any degree of familiarity with the technique of self-pleasuring a
cunt. He hoped that the methods he used on his wife – a combination of rubbing
around the clit with the fingers of one hand whilst exploring inside with the
other – would work, though it was quite frustrating that he couldn’t physically
achieve what he really craved, which was to reach his own cunt with his tongue.
But pleasure seemed to be spreading through his whole body, making his flesh
tingle all over and his nipples swell and harden. He reached up with his left
hand and, to his amazement, felt globes of soft flesh swelling around his nipples.
“Motherfuck, I’ve got tits!” he exclaimed, his cunt juicing up further at the
excitement. “I’ve got a fucking cunt, and two great big fucking tits!” he
squealed, as he began to fondle and knead his new breasts.
It was not just the tits and cunt
that were different, though. For, as he continued to pleasure himself, his
hands crawling ecstatically up and down his new body, he realised that this
feeling was different from any he had ever experienced before. His whole body
was tingling, his mind was losing all coherence, he began to twist and thrash
the way he never did when he had a cock, urging his orgasm on, the pleasure in his
cunt suffusing his whole being. “Oh fuck, oh God, oh shit,” he muttered stupidly.
Violet watched in awe as her cock
continued to throb and swell. Now it felt raging, desperate, as if it had a
mind of its own. “Oh fuck, I gotta fuck someone with this,” she mumbled,
realising that the desires of her cock were taking her over completely. She
wanted to fuck cunt, she needed to fuck cunt: her cock knew that, and the needs
of her cock were usurping her consciousness completely. Briefly, she surveyed
her partner’s buttocks, wondering whether she could, unnoticed, slip her cock
into her tight anal orifice. Deciding that would be a touch too risky, she instead
wrapped her left hand more fully round the length of her shaft, still jerking
the foreskin up and down with her thumb and fingers, whilst cupping her right
palm around her scrotum, so as to maximise the cock-sleeve feeling she so
desperately craved.
She began to feel something she had
never experienced before, something she could only describe as a boiling
sensation, deep in her swelling balls, gradually surging upwards through her
cock. At first she didn’t know what it was, wondering for a moment if she was
going to pee. When she realised what it must be, she momentarily took fright, concerned
what it might do to her bed-linen – and the feeling briefly subsided. But –
“No, I’m gonna fucking do this,” she said to herself. “I’m gonna fucking come
from this motherfucking futa cock – just fucking watch me!” she called out.
As Grusha’s orgasm overtook him, he
realised just how much he had changed. For this was not like the
closely-channelled man-orgasms he was used to: this was everywhere, enveloping
him, transporting him, suffusing every last corner of his trembling, thrashing
body. So used to maintaining control, he lost control, his body bucking and
writhing in pleasure as a series of inchoate animalistic groans welled up deep
inside him, then escaped, echoing noisily around the room.
But it did not stop. And he did not
want it to stop. And he would not let it stop. He continued to rub his clit
with his right hand, as his left pleasured cunt and tits in alternation,
feeling the ecstatic trembling suffuse his body, continuing to thrash and moan,
revelling in a pleasure he had never felt before.
Violet felt the opposite. So used to
orgasms taking her over body completely, she observed instead in amazement as
this one channelled itself more and more narrowly into her cock. It was as if
the rest of her body had disappeared: all that mattered was her cock, her hot,
desperate, throbbing cock, stiffening further in her palm. She watched in awe
and delight as she felt that nexus of pleasure travel up her shaft, pausing
just below her glans, ready to explode. And then she felt the first exquisite cum-pulse
travel from her balls toward her glans. She expected her cock to squirt, but
nothing came out on the first pulse; and yet she knew she had passed the point
of no return, for her cock pulsated again, and this time exploded. Briefly,
Violet realised that she had not given any thought to where she was going to
squirt her cum, but her curse of frustration became a curse of ecstasy: “Fu…
fu… FUUUUUUCK!!!” she screamed, as an unprecedented wave of delight overtook
her, centred inexorably in that gorgeous shaft of hot flesh gripped in her
hands, which was now jerking and bucking, squirting its hot cream
uncontrollably.
The first squirt was a modest one,
dribbling gently out of her glans and down the topside of her shaft onto her
thumb. The second squirted some six inches into the air, splattering back onto
her smooth tummy. But from the third onwards, her cum came out in huge, thick,
rich ropes. Mischievously, she angled her cock upwards, so that she could paint
her body white, cum splattering joyously across her pert tits, face and hair. “OH
YEAH!” she bellowed. “SQUIRT THAT FUCKING CUM ALL OVER MY FUCKING FACE, BABY!” Her
right hand still controlling her cock-angle, her left pawed maniacally at her
tits and face, scooping up globs of cum and spreading the gorgeous cream over
her neck, chest and lips, so she could lick it lasciviously off her fingers. It
was sweet, and Violet moaned in ecstasy, “Oh yeah, fuck yeah, hot sweet fucking
cum, more cum baby, more… more… more…”
Grusha, meanwhile, felt overwhelmed.
No sensation in the world had ever prepared him for this. He lay, panting, whimpering,
moaning, as eventually he came down from his orgasm, and felt his fingers slip
gently out of his wet frigged-out cunt. Slowly, he brought his slippery fingers
to his mouth, inhaled deeply to bask in the gorgeous pungent fragrance, and
sucked off the warm juice one finger at a time. “Oh God, oh fuck,” he moaned,
“that’s so fucking good…”
It was a few minutes before he felt
able to move. Quietly slipping out of bed, leaving his wife still fast asleep,
he stood up to admire his new body in the bedroom mirror: still recognisably
him, but his facial features finer, smoother, less rugged, full natural breasts
with wide areolas gracing his now hairless body, his hips curvier, softer – and
his pubic thatch, still wet, glistening from between his legs. “Oh my God…” he
muttered. “How on earth?”
Grusha knew what he had to do. There
was one person he must talk to about it, one person who might understand. He
picked up his phone, and dialled. “Violet?” he whispered, as he heard his call
answered.
“Wanker!” came the voice he knew
well. “The fuck’s up with you?”
“Violet, this is weird. You’ll never
believe what’s happened to me.”
“Surprise me, asslicker!” replied
Violet, in her inimitable turn of phrase.
“No no, you don’t understand: this
is serious. I’ve woken up this morning… with a cunt. What do I do?”
Grusha could hear Violet take a
sharp intake of breath, before replying: “Oh my God, Grusha, really?! And I’ve
just woken up with a cock!”
“What?!” exclaimed Grusha. “How the
fuck?”
“Yeah,” continued Violet. “And it’s
like, eight inches long, and I stroked it, and it got all hard. And then I
jerked it, and I came all over my own face and tits. So fucking hot! And guess
what, I’ve still got a cunt – so I’m like a real futa!”
“Well, I wasn’t going to say,” said
Grusha sheepishly. “But yeah, I schlicked myself off too – at least, I presume
I came: it was kinda different from what I’m used to, but it was fucking
amazing! And I love the taste!”
“Well,
I’ve definitely got tits – nice ones, too! And not much hair about, except my
pubes, and my armpits. So I guess I’m…”
“A
girl!” squealed Violet in delight. “Motherfuck, Grusha’s a girl! Fuck yeah!”
“What
are you so pleased about?” asked Grusha, who didn’t share Violet’s unbridled
enthusiasm for the turn of events. “I know you always wanted to be a futa – but
I never wanted to be female. I like my cock!”
“Yeah
OK,” replied Violet. “But don’t you realise? I’m a lesbian, dickhead!”
“Yeah
I know you’re a lesbian – ‘dickhead’! So what?”
“You
are so stupid, Grusha. I’m a lesbian. I like fucking girls. And you’re a girl
now!”
Grusha
was having trouble assimilating the full implications of all this. “Soooo…” He
paused, waiting for Violet to spell it out.
Violet
did: “So… Wanna fuck?”
Grusha
paused. This was too much for him to take in, and he hardly knew what to say.
Violet’s voice came down the phone line again: “Grush,
you there?”
“Uh, yeah, I… This is kinda weird, Vi,” he fumbled. “I
mean, I’ve always wanted to fuck you – but you’re a lez, so I guess I got used
to the fact that I never would. And even then, I imagined it might be me
fucking you – you know, my cock in your pussy. But now you’re saying…”
“My cock in your cunt, wanker!” squealed Violet.
Grusha could only manage an inchoate mumble in
reply.
“You scared?” pressed Violet.
“Of course I’m fucking scared, Violet! I’m a virgin…
Well, no, I mean, not actually a virgin. But my cunt’s a virgin, isn’t it?”
“I’ll be very gentle, cunty-pie…” Grusha could
almost hear Violet grin. “Come on, this is an opportunity! This was meant to
be, don’t you think?”
“Okay…” replied Grusha, cautiously. “So, when and
where shall we meet?”
~~~~~
And so, that very morning, Grusha and Violet set out
toward the Grusinian Highway. Grusha forded the Mississippi, leaving the gates
of Bilbao gleaming behind him, and soon the borders of the Republic also.
Violet slipped out of her farmhouse, avoiding Mandalay for fear of the guards,
and set off through the wild lands on the edges of the Grand Duchy. They
traversed rivers and gorges, clambered across snowy mountain passes. Kind
peasants gave them shelter and food on the way – though they hid in ditches to
avoid the Grand Duke’s troops, who were extortionists dedicated to nothing more
than lining their own pockets with gold. And as they travelled, they sang this
song:
The poor
and powerless have no gold
Or land,
or capital.
Would that
they possessed their own souls!
But the
powerful have so poisoned the world,
That truth
is hard to find,
Even in
the soul of the most honest man.
(Actually, that’s not exactly how their song went –
for they each sang it in their respective native languages, in both of which it
sounds far more poetic. The above is the Mannheim-Rocket translation – which is
not too bad, considering…)
As the sun reached its zenith high above the
Caucasus, Grusha and Violet spied each other on opposite sides of a deep gorge.
Picking their separate ways gingerly down treacherous cliff paths, they met in
a glade by a stream, where the flowers were blue and the butterflies golden.
And they fucked. They fucked as neither of them had
ever fucked before – her cock buried in his cunt, their bodies twisting,
arching, curling, rolling across the soft grass. And when eventually they came,
her sweet futa cum filling his virgin cunt with delight, they felt themselves
doubly transformed, melded, joined, as if they could see deeper into each
other’s souls, and their own, than they had ever before.
And when they pulled apart, they found themselves
changed again – back to the way they always had been: she a pretty young woman
with a happy juicy pussy, he a slightly flabby middle-aged man with a cock
gradually going post-coitally flaccid. They looked at each other and laughed,
tears of finely balanced embarrassment and self-knowledge leaking down their
faces.
Their journeys home were uneventful. The Grand Duke
had been overthrown by the people, his erstwhile troops distributing the
ill-gotten palace treasures to all and sundry in celebration. The Captain of
the Guard gave Grusha passage home on his horse; his Deputy commandeered a
passing peasant to give Violet a lift in his bullock cart. And as they both
crawled exhausted into their respective beds, their partners were still asleep.
Before they lost consciousness, they softly hummed this song:
The rich
and powerful own gold,
And land,
and capital.
And they
think they own our souls.
We know
that is not true.
But they
don’t.
That is why
the poor will inherit the earth.
And when Grusha and Violet woke up again, they both thought it had been a dream.
(c) GrushaVashnadze 2022. All rights reserved.
No comments:
Post a Comment