Monday, January 28, 2008



Chapter 14a Section 7

Airports. F***ing airports. Can’t escape them. Tedium city. But this was the only way she’d unscramble her head. Once she was safe in the Village, with the Reconfigurator, everything would go back to the way it had been only a few months ago – boring and predictable but somehow far more desirable than this aimless rampage of crime and mind f***s. The Village. Five hours by air, then a short trek in the desert. Flo had often talked about it. Said it would be their little secret. Said if things ever got really f****ed up, she had to make her way there and ask for Viscount Framlingham.

And now there were two hours to kill before the flight that would bring her back to dear old safe sanity in suburbia. How she wished Bo was still around. She fancied a Bo bang. One of those really filthy, disgusting no-holes-barred ones that drained every last juice from her body. She wasn’t so keen on the sheep heads and stuff, but wow, a Bo bang, preferably in a public place, was the one thing that made all the suffering and crazy shit worthwhile.

“Carla, isn’t it?” the guy at the check-in whispered.

She let out a yawn. “Er, yeah. That’s what it says on the passport, right?”

He smiled. “No, no, I mean, well, look it’s Chuck. I used to work with Clifford.”

She looked him up and down. He even looked a little like Clifford. Only slimmer, darker eyes, a better tan, a better odour. “Sorry, uh, Chuck, but I don’t remember you. I never mixed with Clifford’s work stiffs. Oh, and just for your information, Clifford doesn’t live here anymore.”

He shrugged. “Oh, sorry to hear that. Actually, truth be told, he was a bit of a boring jerkoff. So, good for you, sister, striking out on your own. No prizes for settling for second best, huh?”

She knitted her eyebrows. “Hold on, Chuck, let’s just get one thing straight. Clifford wasn’t second best. A jerkoff, yeah, but not second best. And right now, I’ve got a plane to catch so I ain’t got time for no small talk. I’ll see you in the restroom over there in five.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Just cut the bullshit, OK?”

Probably married with two kids. With all the daring of a mouse. Whatever. If he didn’t turn up, she’d manage without him. What a selfish bitch she’d become. Me, me, f***ing me. The sooner she got to the Village, the better.

She splashed some water over her face, dabbed herself with a towel and waited by the first cubicle. She slid a finger down her panties and began to stroke herself lovingly. Her breathing quickened. Slow down, she told herself, this is just the warm-up act. But her finger was joined by another finger and then another and then a really weird thing happened. She felt something emerging from her ****, something fleshy, solid. A gynormous erect Freddy, in fact. She went to the mirror. Facial hair was sprouting up everywhere. A beard and moustache were taking shape, her shoulders were broadening.

“Stop this mind bang right now!” she screamed. “I don’t want to be a man. I’m a woman! I want to stay a woman. Get this Freddy off me! Bo, help!”

1 comment:

On Durgs said...

My urge to masturbate fluctuated as I read this post.