Wendy’s Pink Lipstick Conversion, Chapter 6 — A Go-Between, An Orgy, and a Bookshop Conversation


    “Are you ready for me?”

Lana, Risky Business by Paul Brickman
* * *


Timeline and summary of events so far:

    1958 — Probe crashes near Reno Hightower Rock, Nero Craft retrieves it, Betty Blake’s body merges with the pink interior
    1958 to present — Nero Craft grows The Diana Group to a huge, multi-billion dollar industry.
    Present (early 21st century, no later than 2010) —
        1st week — Sara begins converting Wendy to lesbianism.
        2nd week — Wendy spends the night with Sara, the next day they masturbate each other in church, later that week Wendy dates Brad, Brad splats all over Wendy’s face and takes a nice picture.
        3rd week —
            Wendy skips school, ignores Sara, Mary is rude to Sara, Sara converts Mary to lesbianism with strong incestuous longings.
            The Go-Between (I don’t know why, I call him Gerald) descends to give instruction to the Roadmen, he gives them a Handheld Device which accidentally pairs the two Roadmen.
            The Roadmen are told to retrieve the thing.
            Moby begins his great struggle with the thing.
            The Guild enlists the help of the Pain Rabble, much to the Go-Between’s dismay.
            That weekend, the weekend before the third and fourth week of Wendy’s conversion, and the Saturday Mary comes home transformed into a lesbian, just a total dyke, the thing (which is now called The Pink Entity) attacks The Diana Group.
            The Pain Rabble capture the Pink Entity.
            The Roadmen muck about in the sewer.
        4th week —
            Wendy has a brief digression into heteorsexuality, just completely fucking Steve every chance she gets.
            Week ends on Saturday with a minor orgy on the sofa with Steve, Renee, and Mary. Wendy masturbates Mary. Mary wigs out.
            Mary and Wendy go on day trip to Little Reno Arroyo waterfall, where Wendy has her first encounter with, well, you’ll have to read below.
        5th week —
            Monday — Sara stops fucking around, converts Wendy, sees a glimpse of Wendy as she truly is and falls in love all over again.

The story continues (now all caught up to the 5th week)


Note on text:

All the scenes up until after Jack writes a letter for Wendy takes place during the 4th week. After that we’re all caught up. No more digressions. I promise.
* * *


Jack Randall paced the small, cramped quarters of his writing room. As much influence and power as the Department of Archives claimed to possess, you’d think they could splurge on something larger and better than a secondhand Exo-Squat for their Recorders. Ah, well. S’pose that’s just their way of keeping the Journeymen in line. Still.

At least it kept him away from prying eyes, the Exo-Squat did. You couldn’t really find him, notice him, get to him, locate him. Not with him not being exactly anywhere. You couldn’t actually get to him unless he wanted to be gotten at. And he rarely did. I mean, sure. Those nachos at Armadillo Lanes were to die for. He’d slip out time to time for that. He was pretty sure The Diana Group avoided the Lanes.

I s’pose publishing that damned book wasn’t the brightest thing I ever did.

Still, it put everyone on notice who needed to be put on notice, and that was the important thing.

That Wendy girl, now.

She needed to know.

He’d gotten the alert that she bought it. Gotten the alert that she’d started to read it, and then nothing.

He expected a call, a text, an email. Hell, even a letter would have been something, but no. Nothing. That girl just dropped the book and went on her way, pretty as you please without giving Craft, Betty Blake, The Diana Group a second thought. Not to mention The Consortium.

He left that part plain as day for her, and not a damned word about it.

Who did she think she was?

I mean, Jack thought. I know. But who does she think she is?

Just some teenager gallivanting around, hung up on the taste of cock? Child, please.

There’s a war at stake, dammit, and a Great Filter to get through, for Reedy Field’s sake.

And what was she doing bouncing on a man’s cock, anyway? That girl needed dyking up, and she needed dyking up fast.

Did she think that the rest of the world would just stop and wait for her conversion? Blond lesbians are a dime a dozen, he could get a platinum teenage dyke anywhere.

Reedy Fields! She’s hasn’t even turned platinum yet.

Reedy, fucking shit-covered Fields.

He couldn’t get another Wendy, though. And he knew it. He’d just have to let the little slut take her time.

Jack kicked the chair away from his desk, sat down, scooted it back in, flipped his notebook open to the last filled page, and began writing.

How did that damned man get involved, anyway?

The Guild? Did they know? Did they suspect?

He knew they’d been flirting with the Pain Rabble, and The Consortium distinctly misliked that.

Jack misliked it, too.

Not that he worried about his own safety. Even the Pain Rabble knew better than mess with Archivist business.

Yeah, but Jack wasn’t really doing Archivist business, was he?

Meh, the Rabble didn’t have to know that.
* * *

The Go-Between’s bubble descended gently, elegantly, poetically, sunlight glinted off the silvery, thin legs of its landers extending with grace as the craft landed in the middle of a small circle of white Corollas, parked in the desert somewhere in the vicinity of El Hondo. The door opened, and the Go-Between descended the stairs forming beneath his feet. The seven-foot figure, arriving at earth level, looked around him seriously and purposefully.

This was it, he thought. I’m joining the hunt.

Word of the Pink Entity’s capture by the Pain Rabble had gotten round to him, and he’d be damned if he’d let those dirty sons of bitches get in the way of his people’s ascendancy.

Besides, The Guild was worried.

The Rabble should have delivered the thing by now.

Nothing doing.

Which meant he’d have to steal the damned thing back.

Really, he should have just done it all himself weeks ago.

But the rules were clear.

No involvement in back planet affairs. Zero exceptions. Except when authorized by The Guild.

I mean, sure, the Rabble could get away with it. No one really cared what they got themselves up to.

But higher species like his own?

No, they had principles, rules, regulations. Orders.

Ascendancy issues to work through.

And letting that pink thing slip through his fingers into the waiting arms of the Pain Rabble just ready to deliver the creature to The Guild, bowing and scraping all the while, no sir. That would not do. That would not do at all. His people had pride. His people got things done. His people were finishers.

So.

Back to the sticks, the boondocks, the hinterland.

But if the monkeys started playing with themselves in front of him, he was out of there, ascendancy be damned. The Go-Between didn’t have to stand for that.
* * *

At that moment, however, the monkeys didn’t show any signs of playing with themselves. They stared up at him expectantly, soberly, even a little reverently, awed. He understood, of course. He’d studied his assignments well over the years, and he knew these particular apes valued size, color, genital type, and hair length. Glands. They were big on glands.

He looked around at his small and attentive audience, a small gathering of a dozen or so Roadmen.

They all wore white shirts, buttoned all the way up, and black trousers. Some of the Roadmen even wore black ties.

“Greetings. I send you good news. I have decided to join your hunt. I have decided to help you find your, um, thing.”

The Roadmen murmured appreciatively.

A voice from someone standing in the front row spoke out.

“Moby says it’s some kind of pink tentacle monster.”

Moby?

The Go-Between furled an eyebrow.

A voice shouted from the back.

“The janitor down there at that high school. Kid Lester. He does maintenance, too.”

The Go-Between waded through the Roadmen to the voice in back.

The voice came from Frank.

“Seems to know a lot of things about stuff no one else has heard of.”

The Go-Between leaned forward, tilting his head to talk to Frank, who stood around 6′2″.

“Janitor?”

“Hm hm,” Frank said. “It’s a kind of job.”

The Go-Between opened the door to Frank’s Corolla, squeezing himself into the passenger seat.

Frank sat down in the driver’s seat.

“Tell me more about this janitor of yours,” the Go-Between said.

“You got a name, mister?”

“Gerald. You can call me Gerald. I’m getting rather old.”

The Go-Between named Gerald looked at Frank. Gerald’s knees were jammed at eye level against the glove compartment of the dashboard.

“Any way to get this seat to go back?”
* * *

“Dear Wendy,” the letter read, “It all goes way back, doesn’t it? I mean, it all goes a good deal more way back than even the people who think it goes back a very long time. They’re right of course, but it’s mostly guesswork. It’s all mostly just guesswork, even for The Consortium. But it did begin somewhere, or somewhen. Most of us can agree on that. I mean, look, we’re here, right? I mean, right? Well, probably. So just for the sake of argument…”

Jack Randall paused. He wrote the way the Archivist wanted it. Start out light and easy, the Archivist said, and then hit ’em with facts. Clobber ’em with facts. Lots of facts, numbers, dates. Anything you can get your hands on, and just pulverize them. They’ll love it, you’ll see.

So Jack scribbled about explosions, lightyears, eons, novas, supernovas, black holes, strings, worm holes, nebulas, pulsars, quarks, tachyons, and other stuff. Scribbled down a bunch of numbers, gave distances multiplied by infinities, and then settled down to the main point.

“…So you see it just happened. And when it happened, stars were formed, planets were formed, systems developed, life burst forth, species arose, and the first true psychic powers arose shortly after that. Or maybe they came first. It’s a bit of a sore spot with the psychic powers. At least some of them may have come first, joined later by species which made it through what was later called filter events, great filter events. Really just natural processes that tended to wipe life out before it had a chance to really get psychic.

“But, and this has been pointed out before, right, the universe is big.

“Which leaves it plenty of species that don’t get wiped out. Plenty of species that can actually make it past a filter event or two, usually with the help of some latent or dormant psychic abilities. This is all pretty much known. So the post-filter species go on to form pre-Ascendancy societies, clubs, species groups, clusters, whatnot. These clubs are then picked up by The Guild, selected for ascension and move on to that elite strata of truly psychic powers, non-corporeal, immortal, and a generally pretty stand-offish bunch of guys.

“But The Guild has an enemy, you see. A pretty powerful bunch of psychic beings in their own right. And they’ve been battling The Guild for longer than most species have been in existence…”

The letter went on and on and on. Several pages worth of writing about the First Spats, the Separation, the Wars of the Orgasms, and finally the Great Divorce. He ended the letter vaguely with a mention of the Reformation of Hierarchies. And then,

“…My dear Wendy, I really wanted to tell you all this in person, but you just can’t seem to stop fucking your new boyfriend long enough to pay attention to the world around you. That in itself isn’t so bad, it’s actually one of the reasons The Consortium places such great hopes in you, but really, dear, it would be best for us to get together for a little chat. Why don’t we meet, say, at that bookstore you like so much. We can have some coffee. And maybe a couple of tacos. I hear the tacos there are to die for. Yours, Jack Randall, Journeyman Recorder

“P.S. Don’t worry about what day or time. You just get your ass there. I’ll be waiting.”

Jack Randall folded the letter, slipped it into a long, white envelope, stamped and addressed the envelope, stepped outside his Exo-Squat, walked a few blocks to the nearest mailbox, and posted the letter.

Vespuccian postal delivery being what it is, the letter, although posted the Wednesday before Wendy finally had sex with Sara, arrived on the Tuesday, which turned out to offer quite a momentous evening for the young, adolescent newly turned lesbian.

The girl was getting dyked up, and she was getting dyked up fast.
* * *

Tuesday morning. Wendy groggily opened her eyes to the ruins of last night’s debauchery. She had fallen asleep wearing the dildo, rising pink and terrible in the morning light filtering through the lace curtains of Sara’s bedroom. Wendy stifled a giggle as the image of Steve’s perennial morning wood rose in her mind. She turned her head and looked down. Laura’s cute ass met her gaze, her legs spread out wide as she lay on her belly, one leg tossed over Nikki lying on her back, the other stuck at a near right angle to her hips and bent at the knee. Laura’s neatly trimmed pussy, labia extended from last night’s heavy use, asshole and cunt still glistening from repeated slatherings of the pink lubrication that only served to make them, all of them, hornier and hornier, deranged by lust and the need, the hunger, for more orgasms. For more pussy. More tit, more ass, more flesh. More feminine flesh.

Nikki and Melani, Julie and Laura. Sara.

With Mary Love’s transformation playing out on the big screen, over and over, the sight and sound of her lovemaking, her sex, her fucking and licking, filling the room and adding to the cries, murmurs, moans and groans of the girls in Sara’s house.

Until the orgy moved into the bedroom.

Wendy’s own ass felt, well, not sore. Not really. Just well, good, and thoroughly used. As if someone had shoved a baseball bat inside her, wiggled it around for a while, and left it there all night long. Then she remembered the speckled and mottled dildo. Oh god, had Sara really brought that monstrosity out?

All night long Sara had been calling the shots, directing the flow of the orgy, telling whose pussy got what and when and where, and before the night grew too long, every girl boasted a strap-on dildo, fantastically large and realistic, wagging lascivious and grotesque from their groins. And every dildo was directed towards Wendy’s ass, in linear fashion of course.

God, they fucked her good.

Sara had crawled on her large, four-postered bed with its canopy of gauze. She lay on her back, stroking the huge lubricated purple dildo jutting from her groin.

“Get on your hands and knees, Wendy,” Sara had said, and of course Wendy did. “I want you to mount my cock. But stick your ass up too, high, so the girls can get some of you.”

She’d do whatever Sara told her to do.

“We’re going to fuck you in both holes tonight, girl. We’re going to burn your candle at both ends, baby. You shall not last the night.”
* * *

Wendy settled her pussy on the tip of Sara’s cock and sank slowly down on it, enjoying the fullness and length of Sara’s tool. She leaned over, and tossed her golden hair over her face, covering Sara’s face with her own. Sara’s face wore that weird expression of awe and lust as she watched Wendy descend on her cock. She could almost feel the warmth of the girl’s pussy, could almost feel her cock shuddering inside the searing heat of the girl’s cunt.

Sara’s eyes glinted as Wendy stooped her head.

Sara’s lips parted, and Wendy covered her mouth with her pink lips, bright, shiny, wet, warm. Her tongue plunged into Sara’s mouth, found Sara’s tongue, and whirled a dance filled with female heat, driven and urged by the beat of a sexual tom-tom pounding in the cage of her ribs. Her breasts pressed against Sara’s breasts, and the pounding of Sara’s own drum rippled through Wendy’s chest.

She lifted her mouth away from Sara, a string of saliva hung down her bottom lip, snapping to fall into Sara’s open mouth.

“Are you going to make them fuck my ass, Sara? Are you going to make all of them fuck my ass? Are you going to turn me into your little anal whore? Are you going to wreck me?”

Sara winked.

“I’m so going to wreck you, Wendy.”

Sara looked at Laura, kneeling to the side of Wendy’s hips.

“Spread her thighs wide, Laura. I want her all the way impaled on my cock when you start fucking her. I want both cocks deep inside her.”

Laura brusquely kneed Wendy’s thighs apart, so that the teenager bottomed out on Sara’s purple dildo. Wendy grunted.

Laura squeezed a glob of the pink lubricant over both sides of Wendy’s ass and spread the lubrication over the fleshy marvel, reveling in the touch of the girl’s behind.

“Oh, god, Wendy. I just love your ass.”

Laura squeezed her hand through the warm crack and smeared the pink lubrication over the quivering sphincter of Wendy’s rosebud.

“You like that, baby?”

“Yes.”

“Good, ’cause I’m going to make your asshole scream tonight.”

Hearing little Laura, normally so cute and demure, so dainty and polite, speak like a drunken sailor in a whorehouse sent a thrilling wave of pleasure through Wendy.

She’s so dirty, Wendy thought. She’s going to make my asshole scream. God, my pussy’s already so stuffed. Wendy leaned against Sara to kiss one breast then another. She bit her erect nipples, pulling her tits away from her body before letting go with a plop!
* * *

Laura pushed the tip of her dildo past Wendy’s anal ring, slowly sliding the tool up into the blond teenager’s asshole. Wendy felt Laura enter her, and she pushed her backside against the intruding cock, hungry and impatient for the giant phallus. The pink lubrication inflamed Wendy’s ass, sending waves of pleasure roiling over the girl’s mind.

Julie crept on her knees behind Laura, wrapping her arms around the girl to caress and fondle her small breasts while Laura pushed her cock into Wendy’s asshole. Julie bent her head to Laura’s ear and began to neck her.

“That’s it baby. Fuck that whore good. You know she’s been asking for it.”

Wendy’s eyes locked with Sara’s as the two girls, one below and one behind, rocked the blonde between alternating thrusts of the long cocks. Wendy heard rustling beside her, the sound of kissing, wet, sloppy, passionate, rose from Nikki and Melani, murmurs of rising heat swept upward from the girls’ throats, and Wendy broke her contact with Sara’s gaze to see the two girls embrace and kiss, kneeling on the bed, thighs parted to let one hand of each girl caress the bare mound of the other.

Wendy lifted her right hand to squeeze Sara’s breast, running her hand over her hard nipples on the fleshy globes of her young lover. Wendy stooped again to kiss Sara’s neck, just under and to the side of her chin, catching the soft skin of her lover in a desperate tension between kiss and bite, first kissing, then sucking, then biting and kissing again. Sara’s necked dripped with Wendy’s spit as Wendy moved her lips across the flesh of Sara’s neck, running from chin to ear and ear to chin. Sara embraced Wendy, running her hands across her soft shoulder blades, pressing her lover harder against her, breasts pressed together as both women, both girls, tried to merge in a frantic union of rising ecstasy.

Laura’s cock beat harder and faster into Wendy’s asshole, filling her from above while Sara jerked with shorter thrusts below. Wendy pulled her mouth away from Sara’s neck, breathing in the rich intoxication of two cocks filling her, ramming her without let up. She could feel the orgasm now. They came to her so quickly now, those orgasms. Just a few flicks, a few thrusts, a kiss of a woman’s lips, the kiss of Sara’s lips, the kiss of Nikki’s lips. Nikki?

Nikki leaned against Wendy’s body, Wendy’s body pressed so close to Sara’s now, and, clinging to Melani with one arm, bent to kiss Wendy’s neck. Wendy, feeling new lips upon her skin, turned her head to face Nikki’s mouth. Wendy parted her lips, and Nikki covered her wet, pink mouth, glistening with lipstick and spit. Nikki’s tongue wrestled with Wendy’s, a combat of passion and desire, of female and feminine intoxication, of female lust, of feminine delight in sensual fecundity.

And still the wave of lust rose, Wendy beat her ass against Laura’s pounding hips, Nikki and Melani poured kisses upon each other, and Nikki leaned back, her head near Sara’s head, foreheads turning to touch each other, then mouths pressing against each other, and Nikki, turning and looking up at Wendy’s face in throes of ecstasy above her, smiled, and licked her lips.

“So hot. You’re so fucking hot, Wendy. I’m so glad we’re finally doing this.”

Nikki spread her legs for Melani, who crouched, strapped-on cock swinging below her, beside Wendy and Sara. She used one hand to hold Nikki’s right thigh away from the left, while the other hand held Nikki’s dildo up and away from her cunt. Then she dipped her face over Nikki’s cunt, already wet, already hot. Melani slowly licked the thighs close to the Nikki’s center, trailing the tip of her wet tongue slowly over the trembling skin.

“Hurry, baby,” Nikki urged. “I’m so close.”

Melani ignored her.

She swirled her tongue along the edges of Nikki’s outer lips, fat, puffy, red. Trembling. Nikki moved her cunt in the direction of Melani’s tongue, desperate to trap the tantalizing organ, but Melani was too quick for her. Over and over she trailed the edge of the poor girl’s vulva, never quite touching it, never quite leaving that wonderful geography of pleasure, lust, and mounting need.

“Please, baby. Please. I need it. I need it so bad.”

Nikki’s pleas rose from the girl in a violent despondency.

Melani smiled.

“Okay, baby. I’ll make you cum.”

Then she placed her open mouth over Nikki’s mound, sucking and tonguing the girl’s clit in repeated alternating series of sucking and flicking, kissing and nibbling, licking and biting.

Nikki’s cries grew from weak protestations to the loud shrieks.

Wendy beat her ass harder against Laura, who, holding onto Wendy’s hips, quickened her pace, ramming her cock harder and harder into Wendy’s asshole, while Sara beat her cock into Wendy’s pussy in short bursts of thrusting and shoving, grinding her cock into Wendy’s saturated and dripping twat.

Laura herself started groaning.

Julie held her dildo, a glittering purple cock, against Laura asshole. She’d’ve preferred getting her pussy, but the angle wouldn’t give her easy access, so fucking Laura’s asshole became the next best thing. Julie’s hands dropped from Laura’s tits to settle on the Laura’s slender waist, just above her hips, where Julie held her soft body, lightly and lovingly caressing the silky skin.

“I’m going to fuck your ass so good, baby girl,” Julie cooed into Laura’s ear. “I’m going to make your tight ass dance on my cock.”

Julie moved her left hand to stroke the wet, engorged lips of Laura’s soft and swollen pussy, dipping the tips of two fingers into her hole up to the second knuckle.

Laura shuddered.

“You like that, baby?”

Julie saw Laura’s head move up and down.

“Good.”

Julie pushed her two fingers in all the way.

Laura groaned.
* * *

Disbelieving at first, not recognizing or being able to recognize the sensation, thinking her mind must be playing tricks on her, surely her mind played tricks on her, Laura could feel the heat of Wendy’s asshole around the shaft of her artificial dick, she swore she could feel the hot skin of Wendy’s asshole surrounding the shaft of her cock, her hard cock ramming so hard, so deep into backside. Wendy squirmed and trembled around Laura’s tool, reveling in the fire, the heat, the contact of Laura’s sex, Laura’s hard cock pounding relentlessly into her.

And still Sara fucked her from below, and Sara, who also couldn’t believe at first but soon learned, had soon learned to believe, also felt the wet fire, the hot lava, of Wendy’s cunt nearly exploding around her long hard phallus.

“Oh, god, you’re so hot and wet, Wendy. I can feel you. I can feel you around my cock,” Sara breathed huskily, an exclamation tinged with a disbelieving whine.

“I’m going to cum,” cried Laura. “I’m going to cum inside you.”

And for a moment she thought she would.

With Julie pounding her from behind, she could feel the rising orgasm building inside her, deep within her, just behind and through and over the lips of her pussy, the burning lips of her pussy below and behind the flat back of her red dildo sticking from the center of her hips, the panel jamming hard on her mons, that thick dildo jutting in and out over and over, plunging deep inside the gaping hole of Wendy’s ass only to be taken out, tip held against quivering hole, and reinserted, deep, exquisitely deep. She could feel the cock, the artificial cock tremble, ready to explode inside Wendy’s bowels.

And then she came. Laura came.

Her pussy gushed, spasmed, and squirted in a torrent. Shrieking and screaming she collapsed on top of Wendy’s back, wrapping her delicate arms around the larger body of Wendy, feeling the bodies of Sara and Wendy still clinging in a tight embrace.

And Julie kept pushing her cock into Laura’s asshole.

And then Sara pushed Wendy away, tossing her head to howl in an anguished orgasm of her own.

“Oh god, oh god, oh my god, Wendy, I’m cumming. I’m cumming so fucking hard. God, Wendy, you’re making me cum so hard.”

Meanwhile Melani had penetrated Nikki with her own yellow cock. Nikki drew her legs up, knees near her head, while her girlfriend stuffed her pussy with the fat shaft of her dildo. Melani gazed affectionately at Nikki, in love with the look of utter rapture spreading over her girl’s face as an orgasm began to take hold of Nikki’s body. But Nikki had not the power of Wendy Love. Melani could not feel the warmth of Nikki’s pussy, her cock did not shudder and threaten to spasm, her own climax would come less from pleasure itself than in the pleasure she gave, and she could tell she gave Nikki so much pleasure, so much.

Still, as Melani fucked her girlfriend, she reached down to stroke her own hard and throbbing clit.

So good. So hot. So good to be a queer girl, a dyke. So good to fuck my girlfriend. So good to let other girls, other women fuck my girlfriend. Or fuck me. So good to let so many women fuck me.

Last year she had not been. Had not been a lesbian.

Last year.
* * *

Last year she’d had a boyfriend, one of the jocks, one of the athletes who hung around Brad and his crew.

Nikki hadn’t really even been a friend.

Then the new girl, or almost new girl, that girl Sara, that girl started hanging around Nikki, she remembered seeing them together, she remembered how Nikki started trying to catch Melani, Melanie then, catch her attention, how she always seemed to make eye contact in the halls, in their shared classrooms, asking for a piece of paper and smiling sweetly, so sweetly, so pretty.

How they started talking in the restrooms.

How they started talking by the lockers.

How Nikki had suggested they try on makeup together some day.

“When?”

“How ’bout this weekend? We can go to the mall and try out makeup. My friend Sara knows a really nice place, a really cool shop. You should meet her. She’s amazing.”

It didn’t take long for Melanie to absolutely fall in love with Nikki, smitten to core and heart.

It was Sara who first made her see how much she was attracted to Nikki. She hadn’t had noticed before, but when Sara pointed it out, everything made sense. Everything clicked together.

I’m in love with Nikki.

I’m a lesbian.

Sara had agreed.

Definitely a lesbian, she’d said. You should join our cheerleader squad.

Now here she was, fucking the most beautiful girl in the world while three of the most beautiful girls in high school howled in a screaming union of orgasm beside her.

It was too much.

Really it was too much.

Melani came.

And at that precise moment, Nikki opened her mouth to let out sounds splendid, ethereal, and inhuman.

Melani just loved hearing Nikki cum.

Then Julie pulled her dildo out and away from Laura’s ass and fell backward, sprawled on the tangled and messed bedcovers of Sara’s king-sized bed, and, legs spread wide, fucked her dripping cunt with one hand, all four fingers driving relentlessly, unceasingly into her hot hole.

“Oh god. Oh my god. Oh my fucking god, I’m going to cum.”

A small pool formed on the bedcovers below Julies spasming vagina.

After both Laura and Sara had their way with Wendy, Nikki and Melani insisted on changing places.

“Let Laura eat you out now, Sara. You know how good she is. You know how much she loves to eat pussy.”

“And ass,” laughed Melani, sliding under Wendy, hand on her dildo, ready to position it at the entrance to Wendy’s sex canal.

True, Laura thought. I love eating ass.
* * *

Eventually they made Wendy lie on her back while Nikki fucked her with her long cock, Julie squatting over Wendy’s face while the blond lesbian licked her pussy with devotion. Then Nikki felt it too.

“Fucking unbelievable.”

Wendy furled her eyebrows and, taking her mouth off Julie’s mound, raised her head to question Nikki.

“What’s unbelievable?”

“Your pussy, Wendy. I can feel your pussy. You’re so hot, god, you’re so hot.”

Sara stared at Wendy.

Gone was the fantastic and magnificent being she had witnessed earlier that night, gone the aura and the power, but what remained. Well, what remained was like a lingering light, the pale remnants of a sunset, suffused with pink. Sara could get lost in that pink light, never to find her way out, and never know whether she wanted to find her way out. She was lost now, she knew, lost in Wendy. The rest of the girls hardly seemed to matter.

Sara shook her head as if trying to clear her thoughts.

Wendy eyes were fixed on Sara’s, her pale, lustrous blue eyes, pupils dilated with lust and desire gazed down on Sara’s face.

“Thank you, Sara,” Wendy had said.

Sara grinned and darted off the bed.

“I’ve got something for you, baby,” she said over her shoulder.

Sara had returned carrying the monstrous dildo, mottled black and white.

She planted it on the carpet near the bed.

She waited for the girls to finish their climaxes.

“Are you ready for this stallion, Wendy? Do you think you can fit it up that gorgeous pussy of yours? What about your ass? You think you can fit it up there? You want to, don’t you? You want nothing better than to fuck yourself the rest of the night on this fat horse cock.”

Was that what that was? Why on earth? What in the world?

But Wendy looked at the fantastically huge tool with its strange, flat tip, and her mouth watered, and she licked her pink lips.

“Oh god, Sara. Really?”

Sara nodded her head emphatically.

“Yes, Wendy. Really.” Sara patted the floor next to the dildo. “Get your sassy butt down here.”
* * *

Laura and Julia, Melani and Nikki sat on the edge of the bed, some cross-legged, some dangling the feet off the bed, to watch Wendy take the huge cock into both her holes.

Wendy scooted over to the two foot long, maybe two and half foot long, dildo standing upright on the floor.

Sara had slathered pink lubricant generously over the surface of the rubbery cock, making sure every part of the cock could fit inside Wendy’s pussy. And her asshole. She’s going to fuck both holes on this thing. Two large testicles, flattened on the bottom, formed the base of the mottled dildo. A thick section of the cock ran for about a foot, shaped like the sheath of a stallion’s prick, before tapering to a long, thinner, but still very thick, length ending in a flat shape, much like a flattened cone or cup, molded like the tip of a horse’s organ. A ridge of flesh-looking plastic separated the two sections of the dildo, giving the impression of a fully hardened equine cock protruding from its sheath.

Sara instructed Wendy in soft reassuring tones how to crouch over the tip of the horse cock, how to use her hand to adjust and fit the wide tip of the cock into her vaginal opening, and how to slowly, so slowly, sink her greedy little cunt onto the outrageous phallus.

Wendy got six inches in, seven inches in, eight inches in, and then she stopped.

“Keep going, baby. You can do it. You got this, sugar.”

“You can do it, Wendy!” the girls on the bed shouted encouragingly.

“You’re almost halfway there.”

Wendy looked down to see the ridge separating the two halves of the cock just inches from the opening of her cunt, glistening with pink lubrication and her own rampant vaginal secretions, the fluids of her steaming box.

She could do this. She had this.

The pink lubrication sizzled inside Wendy’s deep pussy. She bent over to support herself on her hands as she drove the remaining inches of the horse cock into her love channel. It was so thick, so long, even the strap-on dildos they’d been fucking her with all that night were limp noodles compared to this monster. But Wendy took in the gaze and attention of her audience, the girls on the bed, the girls whom she loved so much, the girls, she could see it now, who had done so much to support her, to lavish her with attention and affection. She absorbed their devoted and happy expressions as she sank further on the horse cock. God, she couldn’t get enough of their lovely bodies.

Laura with her dark pageboy bob, so dainty and slender body, with her small breasts, just crossing over from A to B, her perky round ass, and her bare, waxed pussy, demurely nestled between her legs as the girl sat on the edge of Sara’s bed, kicking her feet as she watched Wendy, dear Wendy, impale herself on the massive dick, her flat, round face, her apple cheeks and button nose so adorable, so cute. So sexy.

Wendy turned to look at Julie, whose light brown hair hung just past her shoulders, breathing in the sight of her large breasts, C-cups, full and pendulous, and admiring the triangle patch of pubic hair above her mons as she sat cross-legged next to her lover, Laura, sitting cross-legged on her wide, long ass. Melani, with her dark hair, no longer long after Nikki insisted she’d look better in a pixie cut, slender athletic body, proud and pert breasts, smaller than Julie’s but larger than Laura’s, smiled at Wendy, eyes shining with affection and lust. Wendy returned her smile and sank further down on her cock, recalling the vision of Melani’s perky ass.

Nikki also hung her legs off the edge of the bed, spreading her legs wide, her left leg over Melani’s right leg, as she, alone of the group, openly masturbated at the sight of Wendy fucking that large equine dildo. The rest of the girls seemed to have taken a break, choosing instead to simply revel in the vision of Wendy’s abandonment. Nikki was as tall as Wendy, with equally large breasts, C-cups, whose body approached full womanhood, curvy and soft. Her long blonde hair fell in waves just past her breasts, and her face, sensual and serious and somewhat squarish regarded Wendy with an expression Wendy suddenly recognized as rivalry. Wendy’s eyes dropped to the landing strip of blonde pubic hair above her mons. So hot.

Sara, as short as Laura, but full bodied, boasting the largest and most beautiful breasts of the group, with her soft wide wipe, so round and peach-like, her long auburn hair, usually braided, now falling in cascades almost to the crack of her ass as she sat to the side and a little behind Wendy, running soft, sensual hands all over Wendy’s blond body, spread her thighs to show the girls her own pussy, so bare, so shaven, so pink and wet.

The eyes of girls went from Wendy to Sara, from Sara to Wendy, from the cock in Wendy’s pussy to Sara’s bare and glistening cunt. Wendy’s breasts hung down as she stooped to her hands, fucking the dildo deep and hard now with with the swing of her pelvis, now getting into the intoxicating feel of the cock inside her, burning the insides of her vagina with its pink lubrication, sending wave after wave of desire and lust sizzling through Wendy’s superheated body.

Filling her inside, entirely, completely.

Wendy shuddered in front of her girls.

They were hers now. And she was theirs.

She knew it now.

There could be nothing finer than this, she realized, nothing better than this, nothing so good, so pure, so hot, as being naked in front of her girlfriends, fucking herself for their pleasure, making them so hot, so fucking hot, as she pumped her pussy, her wet, soaking cunt onto the monstrous dildo beneath her. So nude, so open, so revealed in the midst of her females, her women, her lovers.

Sara was right of course. Sara was always right.

There had never been a time when she wasn’t a lesbian, a dyke, a queer for other girls, other women.

Sara stroked herself, jamming two fingers, three fingers into her wet opening, so slick now, so smooth and warm, hot. She felt the smooth skin of Wendy’s back with the flat of the palm of her other hand, feeling the spine and flesh of the girl fucking the dildo, felt Wendy beginning to shudder with another orgasm, with another orgasm riding fast on the wake of the first. She could feel it.

My god. I can feel her orgasm just by touching her.

Sara’s own body began to quake as she touched Wendy.

I can feel the cock in my own pussy.

Then it came.

Wendy howled, her voice erupting into a fountain of anguish, pleasure, and freedom, as she threw herself backward from the floor, yanked the dildo from her pussy, her vagina wide and gaping now, she quickly flicked her labia with her right hand, frantically rubbing her clit as she spasmed and convulsed. Sara ducked under Wendy’s outstretching legs, face up and mouth open, her body riddled by a savage orgasm, her mind blank against anything but Wendy’s wonderful, Wendy’s enchanting pussy. Wendy’s pussy exploded above her, showering Sara’s face with a sweet and tangy fluid some of which she captured in her mouth as the rest poured over her cheeks and lips.

Wendy screamed above her as orgasm after orgasm flowed through her.

Sara’s body convulsed and trembled, teetered on the edge of collapse, and still the outpouring of Wendy’s cunt flowed over the girl’s face, a tremendous outpouring of orgasmic fluids, a flood of pure femininity. Sara lost track of her climaxes, each climax came on the heels of the last, an endless pounding of waves against the crumbling rocks of her conscious mind. She crumbled into Wendy’s ocean and fell into Wendy’s depths.

When she awoke, she found Wendy’s face above hers, kissing her deeply and tenderly, still licking the fluids from her face, licking her face from chin to earlobe, from lip to nose tip, from ear to ear and back to her mouth again, Wendy’s pink lips kissing Sara’s pink lips in an ardent display of total abandonment, surrender, and love.

“Are you back, girl? Are you back now?”

Wendy giggled into Sara’s ear.

“Was it good for you?”

Sara slowly regained consciousness. She heard laughter, cheers, and the clapping of hands as she realized the girls, the dear girls, had fallen to the floor to embrace the both of them.

Sara looked at Wendy confused.

Did Sara hold sway or did Wendy? Did Sara lose the group?

But Wendy laughed at Sara and held up the horse cock.

“Are you going to make me shove this up my ass now, girl?”

The girls shouted gleefully.

“Make her do it! Make her do it, Sara. You know she wants it.”

Sara’s mind cleared.

She winked at the group and then at Wendy.

“Oh god, Wendy, you’re going to fuck your ass so hard on that cock. You won’t be able to get enough of it. You’re going to fuck that thing all the way up your slutty, lesbian asshole.”

As Wendy perched her ass above the flattened tip of the cock, she heard Nikki say, “God, Wendy, you’re such a slut.”

Wendy’s insides glowed at the praise.

She was. She was such a slut, such a lesbian slut.

She loved the word. She loved the sound of the two words combined.

Lesbian slut. It just sounded. Right.
* * *

That Monday, as the girls sat in the Octagon, convincing Wendy to pretend to be a lesbian to get back at Brad, Frank, Wade, Rascal, Driver, Passenger, Rascal, and the Go-Between sat around two four-tops put together by the waitstaff. Gerald, the Go-Between sat at one end of the table, cramped into a wooden chair with rounded arms. Maybe a seven-foot-tall hominid wasn’t the best choice of bodies. This lot, he realized somewhat abashed, had quickly gotten over his size, and although they still treated him with some deference, Gerald suspected that they would have done the same had he been a more easily managed six feet. Maybe six two. That seemed to be a very respectable height for this kind.

Driver, turns out his name was Tom, and Passenger, he called himself Mike, sat at opposite ends of the table, not having exchanged more than a few words after the Go-Between discovered their bug and corrected it. How could any species manage with such an awkward sense of privacy? Things weren’t meant to be secret. Not thoughts at any rate. Thoughts were always escaping anyway. So what was the point in trying to keep them in? Damn ass-backward apes. Stupid, body-bound, flesh-hankering monkeys.

Secretive, shame-faced, thought-hiding jackanapes.

As if he couldn’t read them like a child’s star chart.

If he wanted to. It wasn’t fun, and he usually kept out of those dank dungeons.

Still. There was something about them. After a week spent tagging alongside them, he felt that. He got it somehow. Something about them.

Pity about their gas.

Did they have to joke about it so much?

Wasn’t the smell enough?

At that moment the Roadman called Rascal spoke up.

“So where are we with the hunt? I know that you all followed it last week to The Diana Group. There it just disappeared you say. But what happened to it? That’s what I want to know.”

“The Rabble has it.”

All eyes looked to Gerald.

“I guess I’d better fill you in. Look, you lot aren’t supposed to know about any of this stuff. Back planets aren’t supposed to know about any of this stuff. Well. Sometimes they do, but they’re not supposed to. And we don’t like to just spill it anywhere. We don’t like getting involved, and we don’t like anyone else getting involved. It upsets things. So we just usually keep our distance, maybe do a little sight-seeing, a little body-hopping, but that’s generally frowned on.’

“You mean like the Prime Directive?” Wade asked.

“Maybe. I don’t know what that is.”

The Go-Between paused, collecting his thoughts perhaps.

“Look. There are two major players in the cosmos. One of them calls themselves The Guild. They’re the good guys. I guess you could say they’re the good guys. The other calls themselves, well never you mind what they call themselves because it’s pretty damned silly if you ask me. We just call them The Consortium. They’re absolutely hands-off.”

“Are they the bad guys?”

“Mm. No. Not bad. Not bad as such. I really don’t know much about them. Pre-ascendants don’t really meet The Consortium. What we need to know we get told. Anyway, these two players, they pretty much run things. Mostly The Guild runs things. The Consortium just, well, I don’t know what they do.”

Tom spoke up.

“What are—“

“Pre-ascendants?” Mike finished.

Tom glared at Mike from across the table.

Mike looked away, shy and embarrassed.

The Go-Between sighed loudly with exasperation.

“Look. The two players are psychic beings. They don’t really exist as such. Not as beings in being. More like, well, I don’t know what they’re like. They exist as pure thought, pure psychic energy.”

“You mean you have to pray to them to get heard,” said Frank.

“No, that’s exactly what I don’t mean. You can’t get heard by them anyway. They don’t, or they won’t, deal with back planet knuckleheads, monkey, lizard, or otherwise. They’ve got other things to do. Establish order. Inspire art. Conceive plans. Or something. I’m not sure, but my people say it’s great. It’s wonderful.”

Gerald stopped talking, closed his eyes, and exhaled slowly, as if recalling a very pleasant memory.

“My people are pre-ascendants. We’re close. I’m mean we’re really close. Sure, we’ve got some issues to work through, but mostly we’re close. We don’t need bodies, for instance. I mean we like them, who wouldn’t, but we don’t need them. Not for long periods of time, at any rate. But it starts hurting after awhile. So we have to go back to our body homes. We’ve got lots of them. Some of us can dwell in more than one at a time. I can’t, but some of the bigshots among my people can. But in order to get to that next level, to Guild level, that takes ascendancy, and we need their help to do it. We can’t do it on our own.”

“Ah,” said Rascal. “They keep their thumbs on you that way.”

“Well, no. You still don’t understand. They don’t have thumbs.”

Wade stirred his big body in his chair.

“But you mentioned something called the Rabble. What’s that?”

Gerald frowned at Wade.

“The Pain Rabble. We call them that because they like pain. I mean, they like pain a lot. They like to feel it, and they like to give it.”

“Are they like you? Are they pre-ascendant?”

“No! They’re absolutely nothing like a pre-ascendant species. Although they probably like to think they are. Listen. Do you know what a Great Filter is?”

Wade could answer that.

“It’s what keeps an advanced civilization from going even further. A set of circumstances leading to a civilization’s demise.”

The Go-Between was shocked.

“That’s correct. Every species faces a Great Filter. Very few ever make it through one. The ones that do, do so because of their inherent ability to adapt, adjust, coexist, maintain peace, and generally just behave in decent ways. You’d be surprised how hard that is to do for most species. Mostly because the same evolutionary drives that get them so far actually cause and bring about a Great Filter event. Especially for monkeys like you. Your kind just can’t seem to help yourselves. You blow yourselves up every chance you get. Or choke yourselves on your own pollution. Or create, well, just pretty much any kind of weapon that your dirty little minds can think of. And that gets you killed off, see.

“But sometimes, sometimes, a back planet species makes it through a Great Filter without the necessary enlightenment. They just kind of slide through. Lizards do this sometimes. And when that happens, they keep the same nasty habits that caused the Great Filter in the first place. So they’re advanced and backward at the same time. They can’t possibly ascend because they’re dependent on their bodies, they have no psychic enlightenment, not much anyway, and they can’t really do any damage to a pre-ascendant people, because we’re far more advanced. But they can wreak havoc on a back planet, and for some reason, they love messing with monkey planets more than anything.

“It’s no big deal because your species is a waste of time and space. The Guild just looks away. Even though, technically, no contact is ever to be made by an advanced people with a back planet. As long as the Pain Rabble doesn’t draw attention to themselves, well. Anybody caught by them is in for a world of hurt.”

Silence descended on the table. The mood became grim, restless, doubtful. What were they all doing here, each one of the Roadmen thought to himself. I mean, what am I doing here?

“But why did they capture that thing? What can it do? Why can’t this Guild person, these Guild persons, just get it himself? Themselves?”

That question came from Mike, but everybody else was thinking it.

Gerald himself looked doubtful, suddenly dubious of everything.

“I mean. I don’t ask those questions. I mean, I did. But they don’t like it. And I’m not sure what the Rabble means to do with it because I’m not sure what it is.”

Another pause.

“One thing’s for sure. That janitor of yours knows something, and I’d like to meet him.”

The Go-Between finished the tall mug of beer the waitress, cute little thing, set in front of him.

The moment of doubt had passed. He felt pretty good. Warm.

“Oh sirens,” Rascal yelled, jumping up suddenly, seeing the wet spot pouring from Gerald’s lap. “You people never heard of a bathroom?”
* * *

They all finally scrambled out of bed. The girls had to run home to get a change of clothes. Sara grabbed some clothes of her own. And some makeup.

“I’ll change at your house.”

She took Wendy home to the sounds of Mary and Renee moaning into each other coming from Mary’s bedroom. Wendy winked at Sara, and Sara elbowed Wendy playfully.

“Sometimes I think. Sometimes I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what the heck has happened to us, and I don’t care. I love it, Sara. I love it. I love what you, what you and the girls do to me. I’m taking a shower. You’re coming with me, right?”

Of course.

The sounds of their own orgasm soon rose above the sound of running water, joining the chorus of gratification that had so recently become the ambient noise of the Love household.

Wendy changed into a thigh high plaid skirt, dark hose, and a black long sleeve pullover with a white collar with rounded lapels and white cuffs. Sara wore her eternal blazer outfit, she had so many of them, skirt, hose, high heels. Wendy helped her fashion her sleek, auburn hair into a long fish braid at the back, and they both helped each other with makeup. Wendy of course wore the pink lipstick, but she applied a rich red lipstick to Sara.

“I just want to strip you and sleep with you the rest of the day. Going to school is so unfair,” Wendy sighed into Sara’s ear, nibbling it. Goose bumps dotted Sara’s arms.

“Hm,” replied Sara. “I bet your mother and Renee would like that.”

“Oh god, Sara. I can’t believe. Am I? Are you really going to make me?”

“Of course, Wendy. You want it so much, don’t you? It’s all you can think about, isn’t it? I bet you’re soaking wet right now, just imagining it.”

Sara was right of course. She was soaked. Wendy’s pussy leaked like an old pipe joint. Her mother was so hot. Mary was so fucking hot.

Sara grabbed Wendy’s arm.

“But not yet. We’ve got to go to school. You need to ask Trina to Homecoming, remember? I bet you can’t wait to taste her pussy, can you? You want to taste her pussy so bad, don’t you Wendy? You just want to fuck and fuck and fuck Trina’s little pussy with your tongue. You might as well rub one out in my car. You’ve already marked your territory there, you little slut.”

Sara slapped Wendy’s ass as she pushed her out the door, rubbing circles over her rump afterward.

I love you so much, Wendy, Sara thought to herself.

All the way to school Wendy fucked herself with her fingers while Sara bombarded her with declarations about how much she loved pussy, how hot her mother Mary was, how good her mother’s pussy tasted, how much Trina needed a good fucking, how hot Trina was, how hot Maddy was, god, don’t you think Maddy’s pussy tastes divine, god she needed another lesbian orgy, how much she loved lesbian orgies, how hot all the pretty girls at school, just how fucking hot, amazing, and sexy all the cute girls in school were, how wet being around cute girls, so adorable, made Wendy, how fucking wet, horny, and sex-deranged.

And Wendy ate it all up. Every word was true, every word became truth, and Wendy screamed on Sara’s shoulder as she leaned over to kiss her in one wet orgasm after another.

Sara smiled to herself. She had it. She still had it.

“God, Sara,” Wendy exhaled, “how can you? How can you do this?”

Sara shrugged. She just could. She always could.

But Wendy. Wendy was something else entirely.

At lunch while sitting at their table in the Octagon, Sara pointed out Trina sitting with Maddy.

“Remember, Wendy. Today’s the day you have to ask Trina to the Homecoming dance. You’re a lesbian now, and not just pretend, and you really, really want to date Trina, don’t you? She makes you so wet.”

Wendy squirmed in her seat. Her panties, still damp from the morning’s ride to school and Sara continual verbal promptings in the hall between classes, once again holding her hand openly or walking arm and arm or sometimes even with her hand laid softly just above her rump, caressing and squeezing her ass from time to time, standing on her toes to kiss Wendy on the cheek before leaving her to go to her class.

Wendy felt good. The intervening weeks seemed strange to her.

Brad’s apology, just yesterday, seemed strange to her.

Why would he apologize for her embarrassment?

She had done nothing to be embarrassed about.

And why would he want to go out with her?

She was gay now, a queer girl, just a complete lesbian slut. A total dyke.

Girl crazy. Or pussy-crazy. Or both.

Trina looked up at Sara and Wendy sitting with the girls, and turned her head away, shy and embarrassed at Sara pointing at her. Maddy had her head in her lunch bag.

“Go ahead and ask her now, Wendy.”

“In front of Maddy?”

“Why not in front of Maddy? You’re a lesbian now, aren’t you? Do you care what she thinks? Would it change you?”

“No.”

“Then go for it, baby. You need to come out to Maddy. So ask Trina to go to Homecoming with you. She’ll say yes, of course she’ll say yes. Just look at you. You’re beautiful.”

She was too. Pink lipstick and glittering blue eyeshadow, dark mascara, black eyeliner, just the right amount of foundation, blush, and highlights.

Hesitating no longer, Wendy stood up, crossed the Octagon towards Maddy and Trina. Wendy put a pronounced sashay in her hips.

Heads turned.
* * *

Of course she was scared. Who wouldn’t be? I mean. Gosh. I just really turned lesbian last night.

I’ve never asked a girl out before.

I’ve never asked anyone out before.

Nervous, almost shaking with nervousness, Wendy continued crossing the lunchroom, trying to look confident, collected, cool, and competent.

She could do this. She had this.

Her heart fluttered wildly against her chest.

Butterflies darted to and fro in her belly, tickling her insides and unsteadying her resolved mind.

The pit of her stomach dropped as she stood before Maddy and Trina. Trina smiled shyly, looked away, and Maddy beamed brightly at Wendy.

Maddy had changed.

Today she wore a pale green blouse with her buttons undone far enough to expose a cleavage emphasized by a push-up bra. Her lips were red, she wore eyeshadow and mascara, and Wendy noticed long nails on the tips of her fingers, polished red and bright.

“Hi Wendy, what’s up?” she asked.

“Um, hi Maddy. You look cute today.”

“Thanks. It’s just something I felt like doing. Mom hates it. She thinks I’m turning into a.” Maddy paused. “A slut. But I don’t even have a boyfriend yet. God knows I’m trying.”

Maddy winked at Wendy playfully.

“Are you going to start having lunch with us now? Sara will let you eat with us?”

“Oh, Maddy. It’s not like that. I mean. I know. But it’s not like that. It’s just that. Well. The thing is. The reason I’m here is that. You know. I was just thinking. Hey, Trina.”

Trina jerked her head towards Wendy.

“Um. I was just wondering. Do you think, I mean, do you want, well, the thing is. Um. Do you have a date for Homecoming?”

Trina shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

“I’m not going, Wendy. No one’s asked me. I don’t think anyone’s going to ask me.”

“Well, um. The thing is, Trina. Would you go to Homecoming with me? I mean, can I take you to Homecoming. I mean, as a date, not friends?”

This time Wendy, who had had her eyes on Trina the whole time, looked down, cheeks burning, at her tips of her black heels.

What if she says no?

What if she laughs at me?

Oh god, I couldn’t take that.

I definitely wouldn’t come back to school if she laughs at me.

Raising her head to look at Trina, biting her lip in suspense, she waited for her judgment. But it was Maddy who next spoke.

“You gotta be joking, right Wendy? Is this a joke? Are you serious?”

Wendy’s doubt passed, giving way to annoyance with Maddy.

“Of course I’m serious, Maddy. Why wouldn’t I be serious? Besides, I was talking to Trina, not you.”

She turned her attention back to Trina.

“Please say yes, Trina. I really want to go to Homecoming with you.”

Trina, who’d been smitten with both Wendy and Maddy all year long, couldn’t believe her ears or eyes. She’d known since middle school that she liked girls, but she didn’t think Wendy felt the same way until that strange day after school, but then she started talking about boys all the time, and there were rumors about her sleeping with some old guy, which she never believed, but still. She’d been close to that Sara and her gang for a couple of days. And now this. Wendy asking her to the Homecoming dance.

“But why, Wendy? Do you. Do you really mean as a date?”

Wendy sat down in front of Trina and reached for her hand across the table.

“Of course I mean it. I really want to go to the dance with you. I really want you to be my Homecoming date. You see. Well, the thing is, I like girls. I mean, I’m just super attracted to girls right now, but I like you. And I want to show you how much I do like you.”

Maddy’s jaw dropped.

“Wendy Love, are you telling us that you’re.”

“I’m a lesbian, Maddy. I’ve always been a lesbian.”

Maddy gathered her purse and lunch together.

“I’m sorry. But I have to go. Uh, I have to look something up in the library.”

Trina stifled a giggle as Maddy stomped away in a cloud of confusion.

Then she looked at Wendy seriously.

“I thought maybe you and Sara were going out. You two were really close a couple of weeks ago, then that thing happened. With Brad. Then I heard. Then I saw you holding hands today. So what gives?”

Wendy took a deep breath.

“Well, I mean Sara and I are close. But we’re not dating or anything, she’s just been a really good friend. And, you know, she’s shown me that I’m, you know, gay. That I really like girls. I’ve always known it, I think. But then she showed me.”

“But why me? Why not some other girl?”

“Gosh, Trina. I mean, why not you? You’re so. Well, hot, to be honest. I saw that when you came by to drop off my homework. God your ass, it’s just so. Cute. Sexy. And you’re so pretty. And you make me laugh. And you’re so kind and thoughtful. I think I’ve always liked you. And I really want to go out with you.”

“Okay, Wendy. Yes. I’ll go to Homecoming with you.”

“You will!”

“I will.”

Wendy clapped her hands together. She moved around the table to sit next to Trina. She spent the rest of lunch period talking and laughing with Trina, holding her hand between their seats. Once she even leaned in a little to kiss Trina high on her face, just in front of her ear. Trina closed her eyes and smiled.
* * *

When Sara dropped Wendy off at her house after school, Wendy kissed Sara goodbye.

.“Careful,” Sara said. “Whatever will Trina think? Won’t she get jealous?”

Wendy rolled her eyes.

“She’ll just have to get used to me being slutty.”
* * *

“She’ll manage. Sluttiness suits you.”

Sara watched Wendy jump out of the car and run up her porch steps, her heart-shaped ass jiggling in its red and black plaid skirt.

“Don’t forget I’m coming over later! I’ve got some stuff to do, but I’ll swing by in a couple of hours.”

“I won’t,” Wendy promised. “I won’t forget.”

Wendy saw a bunch of mail stuffed into the mailbox by the door, so she grabbed the mail, unlocked the door and made her way to the kitchen.

“Mom?” she yelled.

No answer.

“Renee?”

Still no answer.

Throwing her backpack on the kitchen island, she sifted through the mail, saw the letter from Jack Randall, recognized the name as the author of the book she’d started and never finished, and ripped the envelope open.
* * *

Wendy changed clothes, baggy jeans, her pink sneakers, a pink sweat jacket with hood. She grabbed The Secret History of Edge City and wrote a quick note to her mother and Renee. It was funny how Renee had become such a fixture in her life. She didn’t resent her at all. She was glad she kept her mother, kept Mary busy. Kept that hot body satisfied.

The note said she’d gone to the bookstore.

Jack said he’d be there, no matter when or what day she showed up.

Might as well check it out.

That platinum blond woman came to her mind.

I wonder if she’ll be there?

Wendy chained her green ten-speed to the bike rack, looked around for anybody who looked like they’d been waiting for her, saw no one and went inside the bookstore.

Ed Dvorak had capitulated. The spicy smell of tacos greeted Wendy as she walked through the door of the book shop. The front of the bookstore had been cleared to make room for a short counter and kitchen area, complete with four small tables, two of them occupied by middle-aged readers, mostly graying men flipping through sports magazines or literary journals.

Ed stood behind the counter, taking the orders from a short, plumpish woman who looked to be in her late 30s, accompanied by two girls about six and eight as far as Wendy could guess. Ed Dvorak looked happy. Beyond the dining area, a thin, lanky young woman with horned rimmed glasses and a page boy haircut with short bangs was reading Dragons in the Attic behind the register for the bookstore itself. The girl was kind of cute in her own way, and Wendy started towards the register, suddenly turned on and looking for action.

Early that day the thought of asking Trina out took every ounce of courage she could muster. Now she leapt forward at the chance of making small talk with a girl, chatting her up. Flirting with her. Seeing if she’d be. And of course she would be. Somehow Wendy knew practically any girl would be interested in her, Wendy.

Somehow she knew she could get any girl she wanted.

She might have to work a little for it, but she’d get it.

A cough caught her attention.

A man calling her name stopped her short.

“Wendy.”
* * *

Wendy turned to look at the man who called, sweeping the small dining area with her eyes. She could’ve sworn that the table closest to her had been empty when she walked by, but now a non-descript man in a dark ball cap and denim jacket sat there, a tall paper cup of coffee in front of him. He stood up and held out his hand.

“Oh, this is an honor, Wendy. I’m just so happy to finally meet you. But we gotta hurry because it’s all about to go down now. Well. Soon. You know how these things go. But the buildup, the buildup has been something awful. Just awful.”

The man walked around the table, pulled out a chair, and held it out for Wendy.

Confused, Wendy sat down.

Then the man pushed the chair towards the table and sat back down.

Wendy noticed the book next to the coffee cup.

The Secret History of Edge City.

“So you’re Jack Randall then,” Wendy stated rather than asked.

“Of course, of course. Who else would I be? The one and only. Well, the one of only four. Which makes me special but hardly unique. Not like you.”

Wendy squinted her eyes at that statement.

“I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

“Well, Wendy. It’s not really easy to say. How much do you know about stuff? I mean, all this stuff? Like, you know. Space. Creation.”

“Um. You mean like the big bang?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“Well, I’m not stupid. I might only be a teen, but I’m a brainy one. I mean, that’s what I’ve been called. Sometimes. I read things. Books.”

“Wendy. I’m going to tell you a little something.”

“About The Consortium? About The Guild? You talked about them in your letter. I didn’t know what you were talking about.”

Jack Randall nodded to the book on the table.

“If you would have finished that, you’d understand by now.”

“Well, I mean. I wanted to. It’s just that. I kind of got held up. I mean. My life’s just been really crazy lately.”
* * *

At that moment a woman approached the table on Wendy’s side, coming up very close to the girl, standing right beside her, so that her hip almost touched Wendy’s shoulder. If Wendy turned, she’d be in kissing distance of the woman’s ass.

“Excuse me,” the woman said. “I don’t usually do this, but.”

Wendy looked up to recognize the mother who had been standing in the taco line with her two girls.

Wendy smiled.

“It’s okay, you’re not interrupting.”

The tone of Wendy’s voice dripped the sweetest honey.

“It’s just that, well, I was wondering. I mean, um. The thing is. I sometimes need a babysitter for my two girls, Amy and Melissa over there, Melissa’s the young one, and um, I just wanted to know if, well, if you were, um. Maybe interested? I could give you my number. You could call me anytime. I mean to talk about the job.”

Wendy thought sounded like a great idea. She didn’t know if she normally liked round women, well, plumpish, not fat, but not svelte either, but then again, she didn’t know what kind of women she preferred. They all seemed so tasty. So cute. So adorable. And the youngish mother standing at her side, swaying her hip against her shoulder, touching her now with her fleshy hips, gosh. There was just something about her. Her youth lingered in her fleshy face, and her eyes shined mischievously in the best way of womanhood, girl-like and devious.

“Of course,” she said and scribbled her name and number on a piece of paper she tore from Jack’s black Muleskin notebook, much to his annoyance.

She wrapped an arm around the woman’s waist to hug against her, enjoying the warmth and softness of the mother’s contours.

“I’m so glad we met,” Wendy’s voice trailed off.

“Veronica. My name’s Veronica. Oh I’m so glad I found a babysitter!”

Wendy watched the back of Veronica rejoin the two giggling girls at their table.

Jack Randall cleared his throat.

“There’s a reason for that, you know. About your life getting crazy and you not knowing anything about The Guild or The Consortium. And because you didn’t finish the book, I’ll have to tell you right now. It’s a pretty long story though. I’ll try to keep it short.”

So Jack spoke in a quiet voice, keeping his voice at a steady, not quite monotonous rhythm.

He spoke about the creation of the universe, about how the two psychic forces had been a singular whole, how they had somehow inexplicably divided, how they had kept up an almost eternal war, how The Consortium gained the upper hand almost from the start, how The Guild continually conspired to throw down The Consortium, and how the two had put aside differences from time to time, in order to plant the seeds of life, or to nurture the seeds already growing (no one was really sure how all that started), how The Consortium had placed portals on almost every planet, portals that could help a species through a Great Filter Event if that species could learn how to unlock its power, how most species failed but some came through, how no monkey species, no human species, ever made it through, how the Pain Rabble gathered the remnants and debris of civilizations that survived but barely, only limping partially through, how the Pain Rabble had once tried to overthrow both The Guild and The Consortium, how they had been put in stasis for eons, memories wiped and all experience, all stimulus, denied to them, how The Consortium took pity and released them, how The Consortium forbade contact with all back planets, how The Guild sometimes broke that rule, and finally, how during one particularly sordid battle, a member of The Consortium had created a weapon to stun The Guild in order to rescue certain, um, members of The Consortium that had, um, been taken hostage. How that weapon had misfired and had gotten lost. How it had somehow how showed up again eons later in a remote part of the cosmos that The Guild like to refer to as one of those shithole planets.

“What kind of consortium?” Wendy asked after Jack had paused to collect his breath and thoughts.

“Um. Well. I mean. They call themselves the Ch’thologh Mohl.”

“But what does that mean?” Wendy persisted.

“It’s kind of silly, really.” Jack hesitated. “You ever get a chance to meet them, you can ask them yourself.”

“But where do you fit in? How do you know about all this? Are you human? How many human species are there in the universe?”

“You mean this universe?”

“Well. How many are there? Isn’t this the only one?”

“The answer to your fourth question is, a handful. There’s a handful of human species in this cosmos. At any given time. Some still linger here and there, some have already gone extinct, some are just about to go extinct. Like here, for example. This place is just ripe for extinction.”

Jack sighed.

“The answer to your third question is yes. I am human. I’m from this planet actually. The answer to your second question is that I’m a Journeyman Recorder. I work for the Department of Archives. We don’t really fit into the scheme of things. Usually. So that just leaves your first, fifth, and sixth questions. I fit into this because I’ve been asked to fit into it.”

“Who by?”

“The Archivist, for one thing. The Chief Archivist. He asked me to look into this, the weapon, of course, but also you. He seems to think you’re pretty important. And after what I’ve seen and read, I think he’s right. Fifth answer, probably an infinite number. Which answers your sixth question. No, this universe is not the only one.”

Wendy just stared at Jack, waiting for him to say something that made the slightest bit of sense. She suspected nothing sensible would be forthcoming.

“Okay,” Wendy said eventually. “I think you might be crazy. That’s okay, because like I said, my life has gotten really, um, zany lately. But then you said you think I’m important. Why? Where do I fit in?”

“Well, that’s the thing, Wendy. That’s what made the Archivist curious. The thing is, the Archivist, The Department of Archives, they’ve got, we’ve got, access to all kinds of stuff, and we kind of sort of have a bureau in every universe. It’s a pain in the ass to coordinate everything, nobody really knows everything, and I only know what the Archivist tells me, which is kind of dangerous I admit, but it’s my job, so there’s that. And the one thing the Archivist noticed, not at first of course, it’s taken practically forever, but it’s unarguable. An absolutely bedrock certainty at this point.”

“What is? What’s a bedrock certainty.”

“Well. It’s like this. Not every universe is the same. Oh sure, they’re mostly the same. Most of the time you couldn’t tell the difference between one universe and another, except for this curious fact. Not everybody exists in all universes. I mean, yeah, sure. Some people have about twenty or thirty thousand existences somewhere else, but that’s just a drop in the infinity of cosmoses out there. Some people just show up here and there. A few thousand, a few hundred, a couple of dozens. Sometimes just a handful of existences. Like me. I only exist four times, which is pretty rare. But you? There’s only one other person like you in all of reality. You exist in every universe, Wendy. Every damn universe has a version of you in it. Same blond hair, same mousy looks, same blue eyes. And in every one of them something happens to you, Wendy. Something strange happens to you. Do you have any idea what that could be? Can you guess?”

Wendy could guess. Or she thought she could guess. She suddenly remembered all those visions she had, all those faces of Wendy she’d seen, all of them, um, sexual. Sexual with other women, lots of women, lots of sex with women, such lovely women.

And in every image she’d seen Sara.

“You mentioned the other one, the other one in every universe. Who is it?”

Jack returned Wendy’s steady gaze.

“You already know, don’t you? It’s Sara. Sometimes she calls herself Sarah, with an h, but it’s always the same person, the same woman. Sometimes her hair’s dyed, sometimes it’s her natural auburn hair, but she’s always Sara. Always the same person. But that’s not all is it, Wendy?”

“No. No it’s not all.”

“Because in every one of the universes, Sara turns you gay, turns you into a lesbian, a queer girl, a dyke. Just about the horniest lesbian anyone has ever seen. I mean, Wendy, there is an infinite number of universes out there, and in every last one of them, a girl named Sara turns a girl named Wendy into a lesbian. Sometimes quickly, sometimes reluctantly, sometimes lovingly, like your Sara did with you, sometimes brutally and cruelly, which is something I don’t like to read about. But have. Of course I have. I’m a recorder.”

“I just.”

“Look, Wendy. You’re different from the other Wendys. I can’t explain how or why. I think it has something to do with The Consortium, the weapon, what The Diana Group calls the Living Pink, the stuff that went into your lipstick. I don’t know for sure. I just know that you’re becoming aware of yourself. And I know that you were turned easily.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Well, think about it. Were you always a lesbian, Wendy? Didn’t you used to like boys? Didn’t you have a boyfriend, a grown man, for a lover just a week ago? Were you into girls before that? Did you and Maddy play around with each other, did you dream about her, or about Sara, or about any other girl in high school?”

Wendy thought about it.

“No,” she said. “I don’t think so. But I am now. I think about women all the time. I mean, I am a lesbian. I’m just a total dyke.”

“But just a couple of applications of lipstick, just a few kisses from Sara, and now here you are. Ready to have sex with your own mother, who’s also a lesbian now. Doesn’t that seem weird to you?”

“Of course it seems weird. I told you my life has gotten loony, just all sorts of crazy. But I’m not complaining. And I don’t see how it’s any of your business.”

Jack shrugged.

“Okay, fair enough. But I just want to explain, or at least help me to understand by explaining to you, what I think’s going on here. Wendy, you’re feeling the effects of having been converted, having been forced into lesbianism an infinite number of times. That’s why it’s so easy for you. You’ve already done it. And you’ve done it, or it’s been done to you, in every conceivable universe and in some that are less conceivable. And you’ve become self-actualized. Alone among all the Wendys out there, you’re beginning to understand who you are. You can guess, but you still don’t know. Not even now. Not even now when you believe me do you understand the full extent of what I’m saying.”

“Which is?”

“You’re a forced lesbian in every universe.”

“You mean I’m—“

“That’s right, Wendy. Infinitely gay. An unstoppable lesbian sex machine. And The Consortium needs you. In their own way.”

Jack let that sink in and continued.

“You see, Wendy, as a forced lesbian in every conceivable universe, and especially as a self-actualized one in this universe, you have access to lesbian powers your sisters can only dream about. The Consortium knows this. I believe The Consortium directly involved the Archivist to get to you. I believe The Consortium desperately wants to make contact with you, but they can’t.”

“Why not?”

“They won’t break their own rules. No contact with a back planet. Oh sure, they have loopholes, just like everyone else, but they won’t just reach out to you. And that’s a good thing, because the experience would kill you. It would kill any human. But you’re not just any human. But you’re not ready. Not quite. You’ve met them before, at the waterfall, but you weren’t ready. You were close, but you weren’t there yet.”

“But why at the waterfall? And how do you know so much about me?”

“I told you. I’m a journeyman recorder. It’s what I do. I’m hoping to make archivist one day. No monkey species has ever made archivist level. I’m one of the few who’ve even gotten this far. Nobody likes a monkey recorder. Too little description. Not enough observation. Too many I-stories. Too much scat play.”

Wendy shook her head at Jack and frowned.

“Also the waterfall’s where our planet’s portal is. The portals I told you about. Our contact with the psychic powers and a way through the Great Filter. You’re the only one who has accessed it. There’ve been others, but they never achieved anything like you did. That kind of contact. It’s extremely rare.”

“You said I wasn’t ready before. Am I ready now?”

Jack shifted uneasily in his chair.

“Kind of. Kind of you are. It’s just that. Well. You’ll have to figure that part out for yourself. I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

Jack’s voice stammered and faltered, as if embarrassed about something.

“Anyway.”

Wendy glanced at the girl at the cash register and smiled at her. The girl averted her eyes, looking away, then glanced back to Wendy still looking at her. God, she was so cute in that nerdy sort of way. Wendy’s pussy got hot, a warm pool of secretion accumulated between her thighs, and Wendy pressed her legs together, wanting desperately to caress herself, and to caress the other girl, right there in the store.

She’d definitely have to call that woman, that Veronica, about the babysitting gig. She was kind of cute too. In her own plump way.

Jack snapped his fingers.

“Earth to Wendy.”

How rude.

A question suddenly popped into her mind.

“Is there a real Wendy?”

Jack shook his head and shrugged slightly.

“I don’t know. The Archivist thinks there is one. The Archivist says there’s a source Wendy out there somewhere. Well. Not somewhere. Not really. Not somewhere reachable. The Archivist has strange beliefs about that. He thinks the source Wendy is the creator of all worlds. He thinks the various universes are the result of a tremendous orgasm experienced by the original Wendy, the source Wendy. He says you can follow the records and the myths, and many of them, most of them suggest a creative orgasm of unbelievable intensity. He’s dropped hints to The Consortium, and he’s listened to a few hints of The Consortium in turn, and he thinks they agree. He suspects that The Consortium knows where the source Wendy is located. But they won’t say.

Wendy’s Hipkick buzzed.

Wendy looked at the caller ID of the text message.

Sara.

I’m at your place, the text said. Where are you?

“I’m going to have to go now, Jack. Look, I really appreciate you taking the time to tell me all this stuff, but really. I just think. Well. I don’t know what to think. But I need to take this call. It’s Sara.”

“About that Sara, Wendy. What do you know about her? About her family? You know her family name, right.”

“Um, yeah sure. Craft. Sara Craft. She’s just wonderful,” Wendy suddenly gushed. “I love her so much.”

“That name doesn’t mean anything to you?”

“What, Sara? Yeah, it’s like you said. She’s in every universe to make me gay.”

“No. I mean Craft. Don’t you recognize that name? From the book? Nero Craft? I mean, you’ve heard of The Diana Group.”

“Oh yeah. Her mother owns it. I think. She’s super rich. Sara’s rich too. Rich and cute. So cute. So hot.”

Wendy started squirming in her chair.

“Is that it?”

Jack sighed.

“Maybe you can finish reading the book? It might help explain things.”

“What’s to explain? I’m an eternally recurring dyke. I’m okay with that.”

Jack watched Wendy get up, go to the girl at the register, write her number on the palm of the girl’s hand, and walk out the door of the bookstore, phone held to her ear, evidently already calling Sara back.

“So much depends upon that girl,” Jack sighed to himself. “She seems to have a good heart. But I don’t think she’s as brainy as she thinks she is.”

Jack’s belly rumbled. The conversation with Wendy had taken longer than he’d intended. He could stand a bite to eat. The scent of fresh tacos wafted from the front of the store. Jack rose from table, stood before the counter, and ordered two foil-wrapped tacos. Returning to the table to eat, Jack’s mouth erupted in an ecstasy of cumin, salsa, cheddar, and savory meat. Ed Dvorak had become, in the shortest of time, a master of his art. Ed Dvorak, vanquished, had come into his own.
* * *

Confused thoughts, ideas, suspicions, and visions whirled through Wendy’s mind as she rode home from the bookstore. Nothing Jack Randall said made the slightest bit of sense to her. Obviously, he was some kind of crackpot. And yet. That business about The Consortium. It seemed kind of vague and foreboding. The Guild. What did he call them? Psychic powers? And what was that business about the Pain Lobby, Rabble? The Pain Rabble?

She glanced up at the sky. The sun declined towards the horizon but did not look like going down just yet. She saw nothing but blue sky and stray white clouds, and the normalcy of the moment relaxed the sudden onslaught of her nerves. Nothing was going to come down from that sky, no Guild, no Consortium, no Rabble. The shadows lengthened across the streets.

Should she have gotten that girl’s number?

No. She’d call. Without a doubt that girl, what was her name Rachel, she’d call. Maybe even tonight.

Tonight.

What was she going to do tonight?

One thing was certain. Sara’d be part of it. The thought of Sara waiting at her house for her made her heart race, and with every turn of the pedal crank, Wendy’s pussy grew wetter and hotter until she was thrusting her groin into the point of the triangle-shaped seat as she pedaled harder and faster.

An unstoppable lesbian sex machine.

Hm. She liked the sound of that.