their last laugh,
in spite of your manly prowess… by turning you into their bitch, so
to speak.”
Despair couldn’t have lengthened my face
further. Since the motorman’s release with Miss Aheb, enough time
had passed to permit full sexual revivification; the thing was
ready again, in other words, and to that state of readiness I could
all-too-awfully attest. The grotesque organ had already become
engorged by the thing’s mere thought of what impended.
“Just do it, Morgan,” my
sister pleaded. “You don’t want to know how many times I’ve had
to…”
To this end I resigned myself; I’d be doing
it not only to spare my own life but Selina’s as well. So I steeled
myself with every mental fortitude… took the appalling thing into
my mouth.
Having had no experience
in such things, however, I hadn’t a clue as to what I was doing. I
harnessed initiative only via the deduction that I must do my best
to imagine the
proper technique…
In only seconds that dreadful “carrot”
hardened to full size in my quivering mouth.
Inept as I was sure my oral subventions
were, the motorman seemed overly pleased by the effort. Each time I
drew my lips rearward, along the organ’s tapering form, I increased
the suction, which caused the beast’s hips to fidget.
“Faster now,” Selina instructed. “And… get
ready…”
I forced the implication from conscious
thought, proceeding as instructed. Then…
The motorman’s
“jism” poured into my mouth.
The effect was worse than
any conjecture. My face seemed to turn to stone after my first
gulp. To assign simile to the taste of the evil slew defied possibility. Gout after
gout, it issued, each mouth-filling allotment seeming thicker than
the previous, and more lumpen.
“Keep swallowing, Morgan!” my sister
implored. “Don’t spit up!”
Easier communicated than
achieved. Numbed to my brain, I forced myself to mechanically
pause, then swallow, pause, then swallow. The stuff was hot, and I
could swear I actually felt spermatozoic constituents moving around on my tongue each time my oral cavity was re-filled. I could only imagine
that the forced consumption of carrion or even excreta would be
more agreeable than this…
I reeled on my knees after the abatement of
the motorman’s final spurt, that last deposit being thick as
gelatin. My stomach threatened to heave and properly eject the
violation, but I gathered all my forbearance, fisted my hands, and,
shuddering, swallowed the whole gelatinous mass.
“You did it!” Selina congratulated.
When the hideous lump at last sunk to the
pit of my squirming gut, I collapsed posthaste into a dead
faint.
2.
Some inestimable time later, my senses
seemed to rise, akin to putrefactive gases voiding from a lime-pit.
It was upon the pristine floor of Miss Aheb’s lavish yet eldritchly
lit bed-chamber that my consciousness re-found me; in fact, my
first sight was that of the corrupt chandelier suspended overhead,
shimmering in its queer anti-light.
Of the
dimension-transcending trolley-ride back, I remembered nary a
detail. I was alone, however, and as I roused myself, I checked my
pocket-watch to see, to my dismay, that the time was but
four-thirteen in the morn …
Only one minute later than when I’d
checked so long ago!
The watch continued to tick, though, the
second-hand revolving…
Just like Erwin mentioned. This place, and
that horrendous domain I’ve just returned from, must exist in some
daedalic contravention of time…
A strange tapping cut into my ruminations,
tapping which I recognized eventually as footsteps. It was my
sister, maskless but dressed once more in her conductor’s garb, who
crossed the mosaic flooring. The chamber’s bizarre acoustics lent
to her voice an uncanny echo. “Oh, Morgan, I’m so sorry about what
they made you do.”
“It was of my own free volition that I came
here in the first place, and of my own free volition that I
smuggled myself aboard Trolley
in spite of your manly prowess… by turning you into their bitch, so
to speak.”
Despair couldn’t have lengthened my face
further. Since the motorman’s release with Miss Aheb, enough time
had passed to permit full sexual revivification; the thing was
ready again, in other words, and to that state of readiness I could
all-too-awfully attest. The grotesque organ had already become
engorged by the thing’s mere thought of what impended.
“Just do it, Morgan,” my
sister pleaded. “You don’t want to know how many times I’ve had
to…”
To this end I resigned myself; I’d be doing
it not only to spare my own life but Selina’s as well. So I steeled
myself with every mental fortitude… took the appalling thing into
my mouth.
Having had no experience
in such things, however, I hadn’t a clue as to what I was doing. I
harnessed initiative only via the deduction that I must do my best
to imagine the
proper technique…
In only seconds that dreadful “carrot”
hardened to full size in my quivering mouth.
Inept as I was sure my oral subventions
were, the motorman seemed overly pleased by the effort. Each time I
drew my lips rearward, along the organ’s tapering form, I increased
the suction, which caused the beast’s hips to fidget.
“Faster now,” Selina instructed. “And… get
ready…”
I forced the implication from conscious
thought, proceeding as instructed. Then…
The motorman’s
“jism” poured into my mouth.
The effect was worse than
any conjecture. My face seemed to turn to stone after my first
gulp. To assign simile to the taste of the evil slew defied possibility. Gout after
gout, it issued, each mouth-filling allotment seeming thicker than
the previous, and more lumpen.
“Keep swallowing, Morgan!” my sister
implored. “Don’t spit up!”
Easier communicated than
achieved. Numbed to my brain, I forced myself to mechanically
pause, then swallow, pause, then swallow. The stuff was hot, and I
could swear I actually felt spermatozoic constituents moving around on my tongue each time my oral cavity was re-filled. I could only imagine
that the forced consumption of carrion or even excreta would be
more agreeable than this…
I reeled on my knees after the abatement of
the motorman’s final spurt, that last deposit being thick as
gelatin. My stomach threatened to heave and properly eject the
violation, but I gathered all my forbearance, fisted my hands, and,
shuddering, swallowed the whole gelatinous mass.
“You did it!” Selina congratulated.
When the hideous lump at last sunk to the
pit of my squirming gut, I collapsed posthaste into a dead
faint.
2.
Some inestimable time later, my senses
seemed to rise, akin to putrefactive gases voiding from a lime-pit.
It was upon the pristine floor of Miss Aheb’s lavish yet eldritchly
lit bed-chamber that my consciousness re-found me; in fact, my
first sight was that of the corrupt chandelier suspended overhead,
shimmering in its queer anti-light.
Of the
dimension-transcending trolley-ride back, I remembered nary a
detail. I was alone, however, and as I roused myself, I checked my
pocket-watch to see, to my dismay, that the time was but
four-thirteen in the morn …
Only one minute later than when I’d
checked so long ago!
The watch continued to tick, though, the
second-hand revolving…
Just like Erwin mentioned. This place, and
that horrendous domain I’ve just returned from, must exist in some
daedalic contravention of time…
A strange tapping cut into my ruminations,
tapping which I recognized eventually as footsteps. It was my
sister, maskless but dressed once more in her conductor’s garb, who
crossed the mosaic flooring. The chamber’s bizarre acoustics lent
to her voice an uncanny echo. “Oh, Morgan, I’m so sorry about what
they made you do.”
“It was of my own free volition that I came
here in the first place, and of my own free volition that I
smuggled myself aboard Trolley
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