He calls me Goddess, I call him My Pet, Pt. III

(This is new ground, even for me…as part III of IV unfolds…this is not for the squeamish, but I find myself fascinated by the opportunity to explore something that for once, is not autobiographical. As a writer, the challenge is exhilarating. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.)

He calls me Goddess, I call him My Pet, Pt. III

The next time Jake and I got together, I insisted that he allow Randy to watch in person. I told him that Randy would be dressed in his favorite outfit, a very frilly French Maid’s costume with fishnet stockings, a garter belt and panties. He also would be wearing make-up and a wig.

Jake was not especially thrilled about the prospect, but I insisted. I was starting to sense a battle of wills between Jake and me, and we both were still testing each other’ boundaries.

When we got to the motel, I produced a portable vaporizer and some of our best Kush (Fruity Pebbles and AK-47 mixed with the last of our Blueberry) that Randy and I had been saving for a long time. Jake was not a regular marijuana user, but he was willing to give it a try again. He said it really didn’t do much for him, but admitted he rarely had smoked it since his college days.

High-potency grass has evolved a great deal since then, as he was soon to learn, and vaporizing seems to really intensify its effects to the point where most people are about thirty seconds away from being wrecked out of their minds before they even realize it, and then it continues to get even more intense for about the next twenty minutes…maybe I should have warned him, but I knew I would have the upper hand once he was baked, and we were still caught up in a battle of wills.

I am not a woman to be taken dismissively.

Randy was then banished to a chair in the corner of the room. Jake insisted that there would be no contact between them and re-affirmed his straight (but hardly plain-vanilla) lifestyle.

Randy was also admonished not to masturbate or touch himself as he watched Jake and me perform like circus animals right in front of him only a few feet away.

When I noticed that my little subby-hubby sissy-gurl was sporting a very noticeable erection that was straining against his lacey silk panties, I instructed him to go to the ice bucket and “cool down”.

I knew that would not only stifle his erection, but would also cause it to shrink up until it looked more like a very large, oversized clit, only a little larger than my own.

He already knew the drill, and in fact got that much more excited to witness such a monumental difference in size between himself and my lover Jake.

As for the size of my clitoris, several years of low-level testosterone therapy and almost daily “pumping” by way of a suction device Randy had bought me yielded an over three-inch clit that would stand up and refuse to be ignored when I got aroused.

Although I was quite proud of it, and thoroughly enjoyed the increased sensitivity, Jake did not appreciate it as much as my other lovers had, and after our first “interview” preferred to finger me while I sucked his cock.

Not that I needed a great deal of foreplay when I was with him, as I get hotter than five miles of Georgia asphalt in July whenever I even think about sex with Jake, and I didn’t want to spoil his unbridled passions by making him uncomfortable…at least for now.

Jake was a very patient and sensitive lover, and thoroughly enjoyed teasing me with his cock. He would lightly press the head into the vestibule of my waiting blossom as he began to part the lips as I felt the foreskin (which he always made a point to pull forward before he entered me) would start to slide backwards as it piled up around the rim of his prodigious corona, which was a bit larger than even Randy’s, although Randy’s shaft was slightly thicker.

Then he would withdraw it just enough to tease me even more, before he slowly stuffed the head into me as I felt the foreskin suddenly pop backwards and pile up again, about a half-inch past the head, producing two distinct ridges as he slowly slid back and forth into my greedy snatch.

This produced a great deal of stimulation on my g-spot as he would stand at the edge of the bed with his hands cupping my buttocks as he lifted me up well over a foot higher than Randy could, owing to his lanky height. That really did it for me, and I frequently would cum long before he had gotten the entire length of his shaft inside me, which usually took one or two orgasms before I could accommodate what I had come to visualize as the never-ending cock.

Jake was thoroughly enjoying putting on a show for Randy, despite the fact that he scrupulously avoided looking anywhere in his direction or acknowledging his presence in the room.

Jake played me like a violin as an occasional high note would escape my lips as he made me cum so hard and repeatedly that I lost count and may have even lost consciousness several times.

I eventually felt like I had left my body and was in a corner of the room near the ceiling watching myself being fucked into submission, a prisoner of lust and passion in our battle for dominance while my spouse sat in a chair in the corner.

I would be a liar if I tried to deny it, despite the fact that I was unfamiliar with this kind of submission to any man ever. Jake had become the physical manifestation of every erotic fantasy I had ever entertained.

I was only slightly uncomfortable with my infatuation with him, even as much as Randy encouraged me to wallow in my crush, but fortunately Jake was just slightly arrogant enough to prevent me from feeling like I was falling in love with him, although Randy’s espousal of Polyamory was beginning to make more and more sense as time passed, all things taken on balance.

Especially this evening.

Jake’s thrusting increased in frequency and depth as he pummeled my now totally flaccid and swollen cunt until he suddenly turned his attention to Randy and made a point to make eye contact as he said:

“Is this what you both really want?…to watch me fuck and violate your wife in ways you both have only been able to fantasize about until now?”

“She will never be the same after this, you know…I own this cunt now…before I am done you may never be able to feel the sides of her formerly deliciously tight pussy…especially with that tiny little short clit of a cock you have.”

“She was right though,” he added…”you do really belong in panties dressed up like a little sissy-gurl cocksucker…too bad for you you’ll never get a chance to even get a taste of it, except second-hand after I get down filling her with more jizz than a sperm-bank.”

“I think I will enjoy watching her straddle you face as it gushes out of her while you lick her sloppy pussy clean.”

Most men would have felt humiliated to experience anything like this, but my Randy is nothing like most men. It did not threaten him, because he knew in his heart of hearts that I will adore and worship him for as long as I live.

I wake up in the morning, and I say to myself that I must be the luckiest woman in the world, and every day, he does everything he can to prove me right…and I do exactly the same for him.

This is what we have learned to live for…this is how we roll.

With that, he increased the tempo and force of his thrusts even more as we both reached a frenzied crescendo of lust and passion. My eyes rolled back in my head as we both began to make guttural animal noises I had never heard before as he grunted like a bull elk in rut while his throbbing cock grew even larger and he spewed what seemed like an endless flood of hot, thick jizz deep inside me.

Until that moment, Randy was still inside my head, or perhaps more like he was sitting beside my shoulder, and as I continued to watch Jake watching me I was aware of the fact that Randy was aware that I could feel myself slipping away…swept away, more accurately as I became completely lost in the moment, where nothing existed except myself, my body, and Jake, and I was at the mercy of his unrelenting cock.

As he continued to piston his still-throbbing penis unmercifully, I could feel and hear our juices squish past him, flooding my ass and the sheets as his balls continued to slap against me.

As he rolled off of me I was still shuddering and trembling as he rolled onto his back as he told me to lick him clean while Randy cleaned the sheets with his tongue.

He never really got soft and was soon back at full attention, which was quite remarkable because when he did, unlike most well-hung men, it did not hang, but stood out until it reached up to about two o’clock position, only a few inches from grazing his belly.

Jake was in rare form and was obviously enjoying his domination of both of us as much as we were.

With that, he picked me up and told Randy to lay on his back as the cum poured out of me as I straddled his face and Jake kneeled in front of me and I continued to suck his magnificent pleasure-pole.

Suddenly, he went around behind me and shoved himself deeply into me again, forcing even more of his semen out of my pussy as it gushed out into Randy’s grateful face.

I couldn’t help noticing that he was making a point of dragging the shaft across Randy’s mouth as his wet, dripping balls slapped Randy’s forehead. I knew that Randy must be enjoying the hell out of it, but couldn’t help wondering what had provoked Jake to cross several lines I was thoroughly convinced he would never breach.

Maybe it was the grass, but the three of us embraced our good spirits with renewed vigor, and I began to suck Randy’s cock just enough to keep him on the edge without allowing him to cum.

I can keep Randy ten seconds from orgasm for hours whenever I want. I can feel it when he is right on the brink, and he loves me to torture him like that.

Suddenly, Jake took his wet, dripping tool completely out of my ruined cunt and began to prod my asshole in much the same fashion that he had entered my pussy earlier that night. Not at all roughly, at least at first, and I could feel myself trying to push myself back against him to encourage him to force it into my increasingly dilated anus, but he was back to his technique of teasing me.

He then began to ask me how much I wanted him to fuck me up the ass, saying:

“Really?…I thought you didn’t even like anal…at least not with anyone else…are you saying I’ve turned you?…my, my, my…what a nasty, dirty little slut you’ve become!”

As he continued to open my rectum a little further with each push, he said:

“I don’t know…are you really sure you want your husband to be forced to watch me cornhole you with his face only a few inches away? I would think that would be too degrading for even a sissy cuckold to endure…I don’t know if I could be that cruel.”

“Please…PLEASE!” we both cried out almost simultaneously as Jake laughed wickedly.

Although I didn’t really mean it, I begged him even more, saying:

“Right this second, I don’t really care what he wants! This is for me! He knows his place and he will do what I tell him and love every minute of it! Pleeeeeaaaase! Fuck me hard and deep!!! I’m your slut…your whore…take my ass now.!!!” as I reached behind myself to spread my buttocks even farther apart.

I really was ready for it, on all fours like a bitch in heat as he pushed my shoulders down onto Randy’s thighs as I felt him spit on my ass before he began to shove it in further and further until it felt like he was right behind my belly button, only to pull it completely out to watch my gaping asshole wink at him just long enough to spit again before he shoved it back in again and again.

The pistoning of his cock began to force air in and out of me, making the most embarrassing farting noises which made him laugh sadistically at my embarrassment, taunting me:

“I hope your face turns as red as your ass” as he repeatedly slapped by buttocks. “…I do not give a fuck about your shame…besides it feels really good to have your tight asshole vibrate around my cock as I stretch it out even further.”

I was really grateful that I had decided to give myself a very thorough enema before we went out that night. It was probably clean enough to eat your lunch out of it, but I felt humiliated enough as it was.

I lost track of all time as he seemed to take forever to cum. Now I knew what Randy meant about his deep, bowel-wrenching orgasms from anal sex. This was new ground for me and I was cumming uncontrollably as I felt Jake start to swell even more…I knew he was about to cum again…I could feel the electricity pass between us and I began to squirt as if I was ejaculating.

Randy loved it when I did it in his face, and with Jake’s enormous member pounding my ass and my poor ruined cunt gaping in front of his open mouth as he slathered my pussy and Jake’s shaft and balls with his tongue while Jake’s cum poured out of me I was afraid for a moment that I might drown Randy, but I had no control of myself or Jake as I soaked his face.

As I felt Jake cum once more, I finished Randy with my mouth, sucking him until he whimpered like a puppy while the flood of cum poured out of me onto Randy’s chest as Jake, quite surprisingly pulled out and stuffed his still-throbbing prick into Randy’s mouth and told him to lick it clean, slowly pushing it further down his throat as it continued to gradually get a little smaller and softer as Randy gagged with each thrust.

“Wow! That feels really good when you choke on my cock like that! I may have to re-think my attitudes about sissy cocksuckers after all…but for now I just thought I’d throw you a bone just for being so pathetic…as long as I close my eyes and don’t have to look at you, I’ll just pretend that it’s my little fuck-toy Sonja, now that I’ve completely ruined her for you.”

We all collapsed into a pile for several minutes before Jake spoke first. “…Now how about if we all get into the shower together before we come back out for another smoke and maybe a drink while I get my second wind…maybe I’ll even fuck the both of you into submission just to put you in your proper places.”

True to form, he lived up to his promises…several times, well past dawn before we slept until almost three o’clock in the afternoon with me in the middle.

I love my new life.

He Calls Me Goddess I, Call Him My Pet

Our dear friend Anastasia (astraltraltravler.WordPress.com) and my wife Suki (Yen4Suki.WordPress.com) dreamed up quite an amazing story upon which we decided to collaborate.

I was beginning to think I had become jaded, and that almost nothing surprised me any more, but I was wrong. Leave it to two women to push the envelope one step beyond….

This is the first installment of a four-part story.

So without further ado, I give you all something new to chew on.

He Calls Me Goddess I, Call Him My Pet

My name is Sonja. My husband confessed to me that he was bisexual long before we were married, but it wasn’t until a couple of years ago that he revealed how much he liked cross-dressing. Both were incredible turn-ons for me and I eagerly indulged him with lots of M-F-M threesomes whenever we had the chance.

I am an Alpha-Bitch by nature. It was about a year ago when he first told me he wanted to be a cuckold “subby-hubby”. It took him a while to convince me that was what he really wanted, but once he did, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

The men who swept me off my feet (and onto my back or knees) tended to use me like some kind of fuck-toy and would inevitably cheat on me, which just increased my insecurities.

Until Randy came along. He was older and wiser. To this day swears he fell in love with me at first sight.

Randy is an Alpha Male to the outside world, but he told me that from his earliest memories he felt plagued with homosexual fantasies even before he knew what one was, or how the world would judge and demean him for it.

As much as I wanted for him to be my everything, I see now how much more pressure that put on him. He already sensed that he was not the biggest cock or even the best lay I’d ever had, despite the fact that when he would ask me, I would try to change the subject, or try to placate his insecurities, which only convinced him even more that it was the case.

Randy is a sensitive and skillful lover, but truth be told, there have been several men who could leave me breathless and panting in a way Randy never did. His size was only a little above the average…just not my average. I’m lucky like that, I guess.

I loved his mind, his unbridled devotion and loyalty, but the men who really made my toes curl and my eyes roll back were egotistical bastards, and although a few broke my heart, I can safely say I never really fell in love with any of them before Randy.

That just further reinforced my Alpha-Bitch tendencies.

When Randy first confessed his desire to be a sissy cuckold, it suddenly all made sense. For once in his life he had the chance to let go of all the overcompensating he felt that he had to do in his public life for fear of the derision and rejection he faced if only they knew of his deepest hidden desires.

Randy loves women, to be sure, but he clearly considers me to be the one great love of his life. And that is plenty for him. He believes that I am more than enough woman for any man, and feels proud that I love him enough to give all my heart to him, but he also understands that I give my mouth, my ass, and my cunt to several men of my choice.

I am also a cougar…it takes young men who have the stamina and endurance I require before I decide to fuck them more than once, and it also takes a special kind of man who knows his place and who appreciates an older woman.

Right now, I have a stable of three regular bulls who never cease to amaze me with how well-fucked they keep me and how much cum they provide my pet to eat out of my greedy snatch.

I never wear panties and love to flash men any chance I get, but I keep a pair in my purse to give him something to lick clean when I get home in case some of it gushes out of me before I get home.

Then he gets down to seriously cleaning me as I straddle his face and I push it all out into his greedy mouth.

He got me an ankle bracelet for our anniversary that has a queen of hearts on it. I am surprised by how many men know exactly what that means, and a few have approached me as soon as they noticed it.

I used to have a very tight pussy, and prided myself on it, but nothing gives my Randy more pleasure than knowing that when one of my bulls is finished having his way with me I will barely be able to even feel him inside me, although two of my biggest bulls prefer for him to fuck me first so that I am wet enough to even get them in, although it still takes plenty of lube.

Then they make him fluff them before they fuck him up the ass until his dick looks like it’s going to shrink back into his body and looks more like an oversized clit. I asked him why that is but he says he doesn’t know, and doesn’t care why…because it just feels so good.

Once he cums, he goes into the corner to watch. After they get rid of the “quick one” in him he knows that they will really take their time with me.

Sometimes he ejaculates, but if they fuck him long enough and hard enough (and believe me they can) he says he feels what he describes as an “internal orgasm” as if his ejaculations are more like a clitoral orgasm and the gut-wrenching spasms he feels are more like a g-spot orgasm, which I read somewhere is related to stimulation of the prostate.

That makes perfect sense to me. He said if he had his choice, he would be perfectly happy with just what he calls his “Hiroshima Orgasms”.

My Randy loves “edging” and the longer he goes without ejaculation the better he likes it. He says he loves staying in a perpetual state of anticipation which often makes him cum before he can get hard if I tell him to fuck me. It is not unusual for him to ooze pre-cum several times a day, and he often squirts a little as soon as something goes up his ass.

Sometimes he produces almost no semen at all, even though he cums very hard…unless he gets his prostate massaged first, in which case he seems to completely empty his balls in one load, which is pretty much all he is ever good for most nights anyway, except for that one night last summer when I had two of my bulls “spit-roast” him twice in one night.

Each one took turns on which end they stuck their huge cocks into him.

Hey…it was his birthday, and I wanted to give him a present he would remember. Besides, I also had one of my other bulls do me while he watched as they did him. It was a great night for both of us as we stared into each other’s eyes watching both of us getting fucked at the same time.

He couldn’t ejaculate for a week after that night, even though I tried my best to milk him so he I could watch him eat it.

I try to milk him whenever I feel like it, despite his desires to stay chaste as long as possible. It is not a matter of his choice…it is mine alone, according to my whims, and he loves whatever pleases me.

He says he lives to serve at my pleasure.

I much as I love the taste of cum, and although I have never missed a chance to swallow if it is a solitary blow-job before Randy comes home from work, if he is around I always “snowball” it back to him…what the fuck, it’s the least I can do to make him happy.

Got to keep my pet well-fed.

I never pegged a man before Randy asked me, but I was amazed at how much I now love to do it whenever I can. I have an enormous dildo with lots of very exaggerated ridges and veins all over it and my favorite harness puts the base of the dildo onto my clit and I could swear I know what it feels like to have a cock.

Sometimes he pretends to be too tired or sore and whines like a little bitch until get rough and throat-fuck him with one of my smaller, softer cocks I keep on a separate harness for just that purpose.

Then if he still resists (and I love when he does) I make him lay there while I change into my “big dick” rig and roll him over forcefully and fuck him until he begs me to stop (I can tell when he has one of his “gurly” orgasms), but of course I never do. I usually fuck him even harder and faster and pull his hair and call him a sissy cocksucker while I slap his ass until it is red.

When he is finally whimpering and sobbing I start to really feel sorry for him and I let him go…and I know exactly how he likes it. It was not easy to learn to be able to do that, but I am here to please him too.

And that is just the tip of the iceberg…or rather the edge of the volcano. Next time I’ll tell you about what happens when I make him jump in.

 

 

 

 

 

THFWS & TTM’s: The Final Chapter?…You be the Judge….

The Final Chapter?…You be the Judge….

(Show extreme close-up of the eye of Raul, the Talking Cuban Tree-Frog. As the camera zooms out he begins his narration for Intergalactic Geographic while clinging to a branch outside the Sanctuary.)

“Despite the end of the siege, the courtroom drama, and the assassination of Frederick, life in the Home for Wayward Souls continues at the same breath-taking pace that has become de rigueur for longer than anybody can seem to remember. And it seems as if they wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Everyone is so closely connected to everyone else within the community that without introducing any of their own drama, there is more than ample mutual stimulation, validation and support which enables its members to exist within a sort of well (or treasury) of souls, springing from the ‘world soul’…the guf…so that each of its members remains self-sustaining, vibrantly alive and purposeful.”

“Because the Chimps and the Bonobos no longer needed to be separated, the interactions between the two tribes were beginning to take on a decidedly personal aspect as numerous romantic relationships were blossoming within the compound.”

“The influences of both Frederick and The Knowledge had been considerable, and there was no real competition for either food or territory. They had become united by way of a common enemy, and learned co-operation by virtue of common cause”

“And just as surely as the smaller female Bonobos found the masculine allure of the larger and more dominant male Chimps quite irresistible, as the saying goes “For every pot, there’s a lid” and there are plenty of females everywhere in this world, as well as several others with an appetite for domination of submissive males, accounting for numerous female Chimps courting the smaller male Bonobos.”

“Of course, there was no guarantee that any of the Chimp/Bonobo matings would result in the genetic mutations that Frederick experienced, including the doubling of the SRGAP2 gene induced by The Knowledge, or Frederick’s genetic DNA resemblance to Millennium Man (Orrorin tugenensis) and Homo habilis, or the eventual resolution of the disparity between the 24 genes of Chimps and Bonobos and the 23 genes of Man.”

“Although the separate 2a and 2b genes of the Pan primates eventually consolidated into the single Human gene 2 configuration (thereby accounting for the apparent “extra” gene of the Pan primates), there was no guarantee that any of the hybrids that were later to be born would be compatible with future Human additions to their gene pool, should they even occur. Indeed, Frederick may have been a genetic anomaly. Similar future mutations might not occur again for an indeterminate length of time.”

“And Evolutionary Time is very unpredictable. A Quantum Leap can occur in one generation, but it may not be self-replicating, and it might take hundreds, even thousands of generations for that leap to take place, and incremental evolution as a result of natural selection and environmental demands is notoriously slow.”

“But of course, the twins might well represent the future “Mitochondrial Adam and Eve” of a new race of sentient, self-aware, and increasingly intelligent Hominid primates capable of mating with either Humans or Chimps and Bonobos, possibly resulting in future pairings between “proto-humans” and “proto-chimps” much as early Man did.”

“Since it would be ill-advised to mate siblings, there would be a necessity that some new genes be introduced. Even if the twins only mated with Chimps and Bonobos, their gene pool will never be the same again.”

“But given the extraordinary beauty of both of them, there was a very good possibility that future human donations would also result, possibly from other members of the inner circle, or even artificial insemination. If so, the next Great Leap Forward would be inevitable.”

“Merle currently possessed enough of the Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil to support a congregation of one hundred thousand for over five hundred years on a very regular basis (…just in case…”), although its existence would remain a closely guarded secret, at least for the time being.”

“Although he had voluntarily resigned from his research consultant’s job with Merrick when he first began his participation in the trial to avoid the immanent dismissal that Mark, Darcy and Charles had experienced allegedly “due to business needs”, if need be, he could work for any other manufacturer he chose, or manufacture it clandestinely on the premises”

“There was no longer any financial necessity that any of them take employment with anyone else. They were not just rich…they had become wealthy…or rather, their non-profit incorporation had amassed so much money that their accountants and attorneys were on full-time retainer just to find ways to spend the money on their chartered pursuits of higher consciousness and polyamory.”

“It was they in fact who were now providing employment to selected individuals who were recruited by invitation only, thereby helping to insure that they remained connected to people of like mind and spirit.” 

“And there was no shortage of work for their selected causes to give everyone an outlet and a connection.” 

“To this end, they were also beginning a screening process to determine the suitability of selected candidates to receive ‘enlightenment’, although they were just as hesitant to obtain their informed consent to take The Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil as they were to administer it without their knowledge.”

“Because of the legal implications, secrecy was an absolute must. They fully anticipated to be infiltrated by the FBI, DEA. or even the CIA and NSA. Although Stan would be immensely valuable in helping spot infiltrators and CI’s, even the remote possibility of a disgruntled parishioner reporting the mere existence of The Knowledge would be disastrous.”

“Indiscriminate administration of the Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil might not result in the spiritual evolution of all of Mankind, given Man’s inestimable capacity to pervert and subvert even the noblest, loftiest and most benign of ideals or goals.”

“The fact that the DOD spent millions of dollars trying to turn the Frisbee into a weapon would be a good example. Also, ‘Knowledge is power’ and power corrupts….”

“Also it is doubtful that any of the present standing governments of the world would desire a self-realized, self-actualized and enlightened population that would be able to see beyond the devious ploys so commonly used to manipulate the general public, except for perhaps the Dutch and some provinces of Canada.”

“They all realized that they stood on the brink of a new existence, and that the likelihood of oppression from an almost endless list of potential enemies would be great unless tremendous discretion was exercised by all parties, even with Stanley Linderman protecting their best interests and continued safety.”

“Merrick Pharmaceuticals, the parent company of PharmaCorp eventually announced that they would no longer be using Chimps or Bonobos for medical research. After extensive isolation and testing for disease or genetic damage, they were retired and donated to The Home for Wayward Souls.”

“Shortly after that, public outrage over the excesses of PharmaCorp’s business practices acting as program administrators for the vast majority of insurers resulted in sweeping legislative reforms designed to prevent them from extorting and victimizing the public by denying claims, unfair regulation and monopolization of trade, providing sub-standard foreign-produced generic versions of medications of questionable therapeutic value, and collusion between PharmaCorp, the Pharmaceutical manufacturers and insurance companies.”

“Huge fines and lawsuits for damages as well as jail time for numerous executives resulted. Simultaneous actions taken by federal, as well as state’s Attorneys General triggered a bloodbath not seen since Mark Anthony first stuck it to Julius Caesar, and once it started, it seemed that the line would never end.”

“Much like the prosecution of organized crime, once one of them rolled over and turned state’s evidence against the company, the domino effect ensured that there would be no place to hide, and even the most top-ranking executives would not be able to pay off their accusers.”

“THFWS as part of their chartered missions began to initiate recognition of Repetitive Thought Injury by the medical and scientific communities, as well as other inhumane practices in the workplace in general and telemarketers in particular.”

“The logic was that if they could get it recognized as an injury, then if insurance companies had to start paying claims, they would pressure the employers to provide working conditions not to be considered as primary causative agents.” 

“Not surprisingly, the effect on the economy was a significant decrease in health-care costs nationwide as major medical insurance administrators followed the lead forcibly set in place for the pharmaceutical industry.”

“Since the huge windfall profits of the administrative companies went largely to executives and stockholders who did little to stimulate the economy except by conspicuous consumption, (which never does much of anything to benefit the general population) they had more disposable income to spend on items that resulted in more jobs in other industries, as well as the perception of an improved quality of life.”

“And since the wages paid by PharmaCorp represented just about the minimum wage that any reasonably literate professional would accept, and as there was no need for massive lay-offs because once the company was forced to operate on an ethical basis, the enrollments dramatically increased along with the public trust, even more agents were needed to act as patient care advocates in customer services.”

“Mark and Darcy took on the daunting task of educating all the primates within the congregation. Since they were all computer-literate on a limited basis, it would also give them ample opportunities to conduct behavioral research on their learning, perception and behavior as well as the developmental advances of Adam and Eve (the unanimous choice for the names of the twins).”

“Because of the necessity of supporting the burgeoning telephone call center related to the television, video and internet interests of THFWS and Kali’s website as well as the recordings of the ArcAngels there were plenty of opportunities at better salaries with better working conditions for ex-pat employees of PharmaCorp’s marketing division, which was eventually closed down in South Florida.”

“Even more surprisingly, a few of the Bonobos agreed to work as telephone operators at the Sanctuary on an entirely voluntary basis for behavioral research but it was understood and agreed that there would be ABSOLUTELY NO TELEMARKETING PRACTICES ALLOWED.”

“So many questions are yet to be answered, and so many situations unresolved, that there can be little doubt that this is far from the end of this saga, but for now, we close this chapter until news of further developments present themselves.”

“Until then, this is Raul, your reporter for Intergalactic Geographic. So long until we meet again.”

THFWS & TTM: The Twins

The Twins

When Darcy’s water broke, everyone but Darcy, Mark, Anastasia, and the midwife got out of the pool, preferring to lend their support and encouragement from the sidelines.

Episiotomies are the most frequently performed unnecessary operation in the United States (depending upon your opinion on circumcision), followed closely by cesarean section because doctors are simply not willing to take the time necessary to properly prepare a woman to birth children in the way that they have done since the beginning of time.

And because time is money, greed is the prime motivator in those decisions followed closely by laziness, a lack of imagination and an unwillingness to embrace a multi-disciplined, holistic mode of therapy.

It is never easy to deliver twins, and they are considered a “high-risk” case at best, but if there are no other complications, midwives will better prepare a woman to deliver just by virtue of the way in which they facilitate the effacement and dilation of the labia, and vulva, thereby rendering a tear-free delivery…in most cases, which was why the Neonatologist was also present…for all the other complications that could possibly arrive.

Cutting to pre-empt tearing is like amputating a limb to prevent a future break that may never occur. The simple fact that the suturing done to stitch the episiotomy frequently results in painful postpartum sex, sometimes for years seems to escape most doctors, who never feel a thing.

Anastasia had met Kat(rima) while they were studying together in nursing school. They became fast friends during some very fast times, but eventually Kat dropped out to study acupuncture and become a midwife. She had also delivered both of Anastasia’s children under water.

Darcy had watched her youngest sister being born at home on the kitchen table because her mother could not afford health care insurance. She had come from a family of commercial fishermen in tidewater Virginia and most of her early life had been spent learning how to “make do” on next to nothing just to survive.

To suddenly be the primary focus for any needs she or her children could ever want for with money no object was to feel gratefully empowered in ways she had never before known.

It takes a very special kind of woman to pull and stretch the surrounding flesh of the vagina sufficiently to accommodate the delivery of a child. If you have ever been privileged to witness a birth with the assistance of a midwife and compare it to any hospital delivery you’ve ever seen you quickly realize  how nurturing and baby-friendly the former is compared to the industrial atmosphere of a hospital delivery.

Many women may tend to feel uncomfortable touching another woman in such an intimate manner as is done by the midwife, but compared to almost all males, they are generally more nurturant and intimate with each other, perhaps by nature, or perhaps because our culture does not embrace homophobia as tenaciously among females as by the generally fearful, self-conscious, strutting, posturing roosters that the males of our species are so often want to make of themselves, especially in their early youth.

Regardless, some women are also programmed for nurturance from a very early age and Kat was one of them. She loved women as much as she did men and she fearlessly and self-consciously embraced an inborn commitment to caring for anyone who deserved her attentions.

And in all fairness, if an OB/GYN doctor were to perform the same procedures in a hospital setting, they would probably be up on charges before they left the parking lot.

Discretion is the lesbian consigliere of Valor.

Meanwhile, most of the Ancient Ones had arrived. The spirits of Lukumi, Los Guerreros, Roti, The Dark Mother (Kali’s almost accidental namesake), Ganesh, and seemingly countless others either sat perched upon the peak of the roof, on the branches of the surrounding trees, or were joining Darcy, Mark, Anastasia and Kat, the midwife in the water, which is one of the most amazing and provocative ways to experience their presence.

Water that contains the usual minerals and electrolytes found in either municipal systems or well water is an excellent conductor of electro-magnetic energy, especially if it contains amniotic fluids, and a number of  the Ancient Ones liked to playfully caress, poke and prod those who can allow themselves to be open to the sensations they impart as they flash back and forth across the pool like dolphins preparing to tail-walk over the water.

As the contractions came closer and closer together and her dilation increased, the cauldrons began to boil and steam and it was at just about that same time when Boop-Oopa-Doop (aka “Betty”) flew in and landed in a Key Lime tree next to the fires beneath the cauldrons.

“What’s up, Toots?” she asked of no one in particular.

Almost in unison, they waved and replied “Boop-Oopa-Doop!” She was widely known throughout the multi-verse, and generally well-liked by all.

As a fellow embezzler of time and space, She was quite adept in arriving precisely when what appeared to be a portent of something spectacular was just about to happen.

The visions that appeared in the cauldrons were similar to those that had foretold of Darcy’s ordained place within the primary group.

It was the image of Darcy surrounded by thousands of primates doing the Bandaloop Dance at sunset. This time, there was a melody that could be heard by everyone, yet recognized by no one, except the primates outside the Sanctuary, and perhaps Darcy, who also began to hum along with it.

The ArchAngels, who were watching and listening to the images and sounds projected and amplified from the cameras quickly incorporated it into their song cycle while the saxophones began to answer and the rest of the band reinforced the melody with harmonizations and counterpoint of their own.

In the area beneath the screens, the Primates had assembled to perform the Bandaloop Dance in unison with the video feed from the cauldrons. They never seemed to need any coaching; it was as if it was something native to their instincts.

As the singing and dancing reached a crescendo, Darcy delivered the first of the twins, a vigorously healthy screaming female, followed in due time by an equally beautiful and perfect male.

There was no video coverage of the delivery, but everyone who witnessed it poolside fell into silence as they each recognized the uniqueness of the twins.

“Unique” is one of the most frequently misused words of the last fifty years, but in this case it was no hyperbole, because in the entire history of the earth, there have never been two children born who possessed the appearance of these two children.

The female was thankfully much less hirsute than the male and absolutely gorgeous to behold, but there was a decidedly simian appearance to her which was not so much apparent until one saw the two of them together, because the male was undoubtedly the offspring of Frederick, who was himself the only one of his kind.

Aside from a slightly exaggerated supra-orbital ridge, somewhat longer than average arm length compared to their overall length and a little more space between the bottom of the nose and the top of the upper lip they looked very much like any other human infant, except for the feet, which were structurally identical to those of the Chimpanzee. This meant that both of the twins had four opposable thumbs each.

This would prove to be the beta upgrade to human feet for these children, who quickly learned to use them like a second pair of hands whenever their shoes were off, which never happened in public, lest  it give away the identity of their father.

But perhaps most importantly, their spines and pelvis, as well as the alignment of their hips were consistent with bi-pedal ambulation. Also, their foramen magnums were located more anteriorly at the bases of the skulls, consistent with a vertical stance directly above the spine.

Given the genetic diversity of the human animal, their appearance was surprisingly human.

The eventual legal decision as to whether or not they be considered Hominid would be prolonged as much as possible for their protection, but eventually, after they are given the opportunity to establish the authenticity of their genetic structure, as young adults it would become their time to be recognized as who they really were.

Since they were not born in a hospital, although their footprints were recorded and notarized by their attorneys, no publicly accessible documents would be filed unless absolutely necessary.

Because the dearth of research, evidence and testimony of Frederick was so well documented, he alone would best serve as the face, the voice, the words and the ideas of a truly self-aware, sentient being demanding his rights to recognition of his ascension to a higher level than was previously judged as at least adequate by the gatekeepers of the most exclusive country club in the animal kingdom called Humanity.

Once his case was won in court, the twins would have their day of recognition and autonomy without outside interference.

It was uncanny however in the way in which their facial expressions were the visage of Frederick’s. Not something one could quite put their finger on to tell of the identify of the father unless you knew Frederick well enough to recognize the similarities.

Although their skin was quite pale, their hair was jet black, but finer than that of the other great apes. Their features looked beautifully exotic…perhaps slightly Asian, or even African or some allele of the North American aboriginals; refined, yet primal, with very large, dark brown eyes. They were strangely beautiful, and once you began to look at them, it was almost impossible to avert your eyes from their soulful faces.

To a casual observer they appeared to be beautiful normal humans in nearly all aspects, but given the transcendent understanding between the members of the group, it was immediately common knowledge as to the paternity of both of them, though no one spoke directly of it that night, because they already knew that everyone else knew.

The remarkable similarity of the genes and chromosomes between Chimpanzees, Gorillas, and Orangutans with human genetic DNA had enabled a union of Frederick’s sperm and two of Darcy’s eggs, despite a long-successful tubal ligation.

Vigorously demanding their evolutionary participation in the replication of their currently unique species, they out swam all the other combined seeds deposited into Darcy’s love canal that evening, just as two eggs had also almost inexplicably made a quantum leap past what was believed to be an impenetrable barrier.

There have been legends and rumors of unions with either male or female human participants and simians throughout the last fifty years or more, but no surviving evidence and great hatred, disgust and violent hostility are often expressed at even the mention of such offspring.

A doctor in Malaysia for instance who allegedly intended to artificially inseminate two female orangutans with human sperm more than forty years ago was murdered, and his laboratory and domestic facilities burned to the ground along with the two female orangutans.

A mere rumor possibly fabricated by poachers that Diane Fossi was copulating with the gorillas whom she was studying likewise may have prompted her murder.

The subject of interspecies erotica is likely to invoke images of Tijuana donkey-shows, women from Amsterdam copulating with huge canines or sheepherders and hillbillies in general. Once the sniggering and fascination over the perceived degradation of the human subjects stops (shortly after the titillation factor wears off), the tendency is to get hautily self-righteous and violent.

As disgusted and revolted as so many claim to be, few can or will avert their eyes once they should witness it.

The book of Leviticus states that if a man shall lay with an animal, that they both shall be killed. It seems unfathomable that the ancient Hebrews believed that somehow the animal was complicit in the commission of the act, but then again, the book of Leviticus is harsh, which may explain why it is such a favorite of Pentecostals and other similarly bloodthirsty and judgmental fundamentalist Christians.

If you stop and think about it, the only true fundamentalist Christians would be the Messianic Jews who were the descendants of either the authors or scribes of the early new testament and the Dead Sea scrolls.

Ironically, it should be noted that some of the most dangerous fundamentalists would be the modern-day ultra right-wing sex-and-pleasure-hating American fundamentalist Christians, who generally want no part whatsoever of Judaism (including the Old Testament) unless it justify self-serving, vindictive, self-righteous wrath, punishment and judgmental retribution. (Muslim Jihadists notwithstanding…keeping in mind that it was the authors of the Crusades who have also sown those seeds.)

The twins were the first scientifically verifiable prototype of this union, and no one intended to make the results known to the general public for the sake of the safety of all parties concerned.

As you may recall, during The Great Eurasian Leap Forward, after Man first diverged from his primal ancestors, the offspring showed a remarkable increase in each successive generation in intellectual capacity due to the doubling of the SRGAP2  gene despite an eventually lowered total brain mass compared to the earlier, larger Neanderthal . Similarly, these children would later prove to be far more advanced than any primate…even Frederick, had ever been.

In the light of the previous events of the day, everyone in attendance was openly grateful for the revelation of the paternity of the children.

No one had suspected, least of all Darcy that it was even within the range of possibility that she was capable of conception in the first place, let alone by way of the world’s one and only Bonanzee.

Everyone in attendance openly displayed tears of joy as Anastasia and Mark helped hold the twins to Darcy’s breasts. She was absolutely radiant, looking for all the world like the proudest mother of all time…the way every mother should.

It was about this time that the visions from  the cauldrons began to change. A face began to appear that looked as if it was painted in smoke. Although initially vague and indistinct, it eventually took on the appearance of Frederick’s face.

Although the synchronization between the lips and the voice that everyone heard was delayed, nonetheless everyone who witnessed it clearly perceived the sound of Frederick’s voice in their heads as clearly as if he was personally whispering the words directly into their ears.

It was later confirmed that whether or not they had taken The Knowledge everyone who heard them verified the words that Frederick imparted to them.

First he repeated his last words spoken to the world at the time of his death. The recordings that were made of the camera feeds showed the video, but no audio was recorded. Fortunately, for posterity he also signed his message as he had before.

To it, he added a final remark. “For those who wished me harm, you have not seen the last of me. I was not born to be so easily dispatched. For those of you who knew and loved me, you too have not seen the last of me, because there is so much more to unfold as our work progresses.”

“Just as Man received a hand-up fifty-thousand years ago, it is now time for Man to lend his hand to his simian cousins to allow the natural evolutionary process to begin again. Who amongst you would deny us that opportunity?”

“Since the time when Man first traded Instinct and Intuition for Reason, he has suffered for it on so many levels that the members of our inner circle have now only really begun to realize.”

“The ancestors of Man can provide him your connection to our mutual primal past, including telepathy…if you can just learn to stop talking and relying on words to express yourselves. You have as much to gain as we do in the symbiosis of our union.”

“Our children will become the beta-version of Mankind. It is time to embrace our next evolutionary quantum leap.”

“Keep me in your hearts so that my spirit may abide there with you all as you raise our children together.”

This was clearly an event that had shocked and surprised a group who had become accustomed to the bizarre and unbelievable in a world where the impossible had become commonplace.

Most religiously oriented persons of any faith would have considered the entire event an abomination, or the work of the Devil, were they to learn of it, but in the hearts and minds of the inner circle of The Home for Wayward Souls, it was a well-received serendipity.

And so it was, that this group who did not believe in a disapproving, punitive, vindictive and jealous God the Creator (either Aravat or Eloah, Elah or Eolith in Hebrew) nonetheless learned to embrace a union with what has been referred to as the Guf, or Treasury of Souls without conflict or contradiction, and who believed in the persistence of the Soul

And it was good…very, VERY GOOD…like, well…(you know the rest)…..

Namaste

Apologia Revisited

Even if you aren’t reading this,

…this moment,…these words…this testament

is for all of you, as well as for each of you…

the heroines of all my never-ending torch songs.

My heroines, my heroin…

Perhaps I wasn’t your best friend after all,

but not for nothing…you can’t say I didn’t try.

I’m a weaver of dreams, a conjuror of spells,

but I fear the realities I brought you 

did not live up to the Great Expectations I inspired

until I disappointed the Dickens out of you.

“I’m sorry” I say

“Is there nothing I can do?” I ask

as you sadly shake your head (“no”).

as a small part of me dies inside.

This is what I do time and again.

‘til you’d think I’d grow weary of it,

but no, I just grow so very,…very weary

of letting you down again.

I didn’t want to be that guy…after all…

I was the guy who taught you Grand Theft Auto

(not the video game…)

The guy who took you

camping, or fishing, or diving or hunting

smuggling guns or contraband and stolen

works of art over state lines,

screwing like cats in heat at turnpike rest stops,

driving too many hours with too little sleep

were it not for ‘better living through chemistry’

You were the first to jump right in with me, wherever

whatever magic helped raise the ante

back when it was still fun

to live dangerously and without fear…

walking past chalk lines to do the Devil’s bidding

like it was a game of (hip-) hop-scotch.

Whether copping a feel or a few stolen kisses

still took our breath away.

I was the guy your parents warned you about

even after they found me charming, witty and bright,

because they didn’t know I was also that other guy…

 wasn’t that a part of the appeal….?

I was the Serpent in the Garden and you were my Primordial Eve.

You became my co-conspirator.

You followed me into

sleazy clubs in basements underground;

in practice houses, and lived in industrial neighborhoods,

a haunted house way out in the country

next to a cemetery where no one else would live

or warehouse districts, or wherever I found a place,

playing guitar so loud you thought your eyeballs would bleed

and your ears would ring for weeks on end,

where we would hold out like outlaws day and night.

You went with me to rifle and pistol ranges, and dojos,

living in houses filled with guns and ammo

(not the magazine….),

the walls of entire rooms lined with amplifiers to the ceiling,

guarded by dangerous dogs who loved you

almost as much as me

and would have killed for you as you would for me

or I for you,

when it seemed like that moment

was just around the next turn in the story.

There was a knife and a gun in every drawer

and under each pillow each night.

We slept in tents, on floors, in cars and trucks,

or high-rise apartments overlooking the bay

that we could never afford,

if not for the generous benefactors

we chose to entertain.

We watched porn together. We made porn together,

Hell, we were porn together

and everything we ever did was either Art or Music.

We painted everything in sight.

We sketched and photographed each other

while we played and sang with such conviction

I don’t know how our hearts didn’t burst.

We learned to dance the Apocalypso

on the razor’s edge ‘til dawn

and got up and did it all over again.

We drove way too fast through downtown traffic

any time of day, whichever way we were going,

or late at night along the beach with the lights out

or up on the Interstate, illuminated by

flamingo-pink sodium vapor lights;

stopping on the causeways over Biscayne Bay

just long enough to remind each other of who we were

and just where we were just then.

When every moment alive together was a miracle.

We fucked on the perimeter road around MIA,

(Em-Eye-Eh)

with the planes maybe a hundred feet

over our heads, engines screaming

and one eye looking out for cops

with nothing better to do

than to wish they could have been us.

No matter where we went or what we did

it seemed like I could talk my way

into or out of anything or anywhere

and charm the birds from right out of the trees,

particularly if it meant staying out of jail…or worse

(but most especially if I thought it might impress you.)

But most of all, I let every one of you down

one way or another.

…so many memories of that defining moment

when you knew it was over,

leaving me to figure it out later….

I played grasshopper to your ant

well into our winter of discontent.

It didn’t turn out happily ever after…

it never has and probably never will,

for me or for you….

Maybe it never does.

Maybe it’s not supposed to…

I just hope you can look back and remember

those few golden moments we shared, the same fondness,

with the same lack of reservations we shared back then

before we gave a thought to how it all might end,

because it was the beginnings and everything in between

that made it all worthwhile for me…

and each ending too beautifully, poignantly sad to just be forgotten

back when I was just me and you were just you

before we ever thought about tomorrow….

If I had the chance to do it all over again

I’d do it all over you.

It just took me too long to realize

that not being a bad person

didn’t make me a good person.

(…but not for nothing)

You can’t say I didn’t try.

Who can say they did all of it,

and gave their all with all of me?

(You know who you are, n’est-ce pas?)

Just you…

Because before there was you and me, Darlin’

each one of the others saw something special

to show me about myself that took me higher,

‘tho some cut me low before they were thru.

But I cannot deny

each one of them didn’t teach me a thing or two

I hadn’t yet learned

so that maybe it wouldn’t happen

the same way to me and you.

So here we are now just you and just me

and those wantonly willing hostages

whomever we take as we continue together

until

The End.

Namasté

नमस्ते

Chazz Vincent

copyright  ©  a March 9th, 2021  

Fish swim with the tides, into and out of the lagoon as it empties itself, receives from, and flows back into the sea.

*ALL REFERENCES TO ANY PERSONS CONFIRMED STILL LIVING IS PURELY CO-INCIDENTAL…AND THE DEAD ARE TOO BUSY LAUGHING AT US TO CARE.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THFWS&TTM’s: Watching the Days Go By Pt. II

Watching the Days Go By Pt. II

 

It may be hard to imagine how life at The Home for Wayward Souls could ever be routine, but relative to what the group had become accustomed, even consciousness expansion, group marriage, and regular visitations from The Ancient Ones took on a pattern and a rhythm that was in many ways regular and relatively predictable.

The popularity of the televised programs as well as Kali’s web site subscriptions had gone world-wide and the revenues were becoming so huge that it took a full-time team of attorneys and accountants just to manage the funds, and still maintain a not-for-profit status by charitable funding and re-investments in enterprises related to the stated purposes of the corporation.

Stan went through a few changes regarding Anastasia. He was not comfortable with what he referred to as “swinging” with Charles and Suki when he was with Anastasia. Anastasia had taken The Knowledge several times with the rest of the members of the group, and was in fact the only “outsider” that had been allowed to participate with the group, and he was starting to have some issues regarding jealousy over her in general. He accepted her relationship with her husband, but for him, there were too many extras regarding her other relationships.

She and Stan took The Knowledge (willingly) several times after that together and Stan was quite enthused about the results. He knew that if Sebastian were to learn of it, the results would have been disastrous for his career, but he also was beginning to see a side of S.G. Lodge that was more reprehensible than he thought possible, but he was able to keep it to himself. His insight and intuition had given him a large lead over his supervisor that enabled him to see several moves past him.

They knew that The Home for Wayward Souls was under investigation by The Management, but he was not willing to disclose what government agency was behind it. He apologized for not being able to reveal more, but he did promise to keep them appraised of anything they really needed to know, and did indicate that he also was withholding most of the more private aspects of the lives of the members of the group in respect to matters that did not in reality involve national security, which essentially meant he told them very little, except in general terms that they did not attempt to hide in the first place.

Then one day his supervisor called him into his office and told him he was to terminate his “involvement” with Anastasia, explaining that her husband was also under the employ of the DOD, and his “affair” with her was unacceptable. He knew better than to argue, but his heart broke a little in the process.

Although Anastasia was quite disappointed, and although she did not know that Stanley also worked for the DOD, she accepted the fact that his orders came from “above” that he had concerns for his continued assignment to THFWS if he did not comply with direct orders.

Just the same, the passion between the two of them was incredible, and given his extraordinary prowess in the standing position, she became a regular at Sunday services whenever her husband was away, and there was no shortage of places they could steal away for a fast fuck when they felt inclined, which was usually whenever the two of them were in the same building.

At the same time, her involvement with Charles and Suki was taking a real upswing that kept her too busy between an occasional absentee husband and her frolics with Charles and Suki to be overwhelmed by the prohibition of public involvement with Stan.

There was trouble brewing at the Center for Primate Research however. By this point, all the Chimps and Bonobos had been given several doses of The Fruit of the Tree of The Knowledge of Good and Evil, and with enlightenment there often comes more than a few bumps in the road.

For starters, once they realized they were being drugged, they refused to eat the food reward pellets that contained them. Some of the primates were not at all fond of the military-style training they were receiving, and some of them were beginning to get bored with it as well. Some of them loved it however, (mostly the more aggressive chimps) and those who did were being brought back to the training camps with increased regularity.

Many of them began to get sick from withdrawal, and Frederick encouraged them to eat no more than was absolutely necessary to stay well and comfortable. Management began to realize that their scheme was starting to unravel, and tried putting it in the water they drank instead.

The problem was that once they recognized the old, familiar symptoms of their previous addiction, they revolted. They were all in agreement that the work they performed as telemarketing “qualifiers” was stultifying and mind-numbing, and without the attraction of the pellets, since their captors had not yet found a way to instill Greed in them, let alone a need for money they were no longer willing to subject themselves to such inhumane treatment.

It turns out that Frederick, unbeknownst to anyone else, had formulated a plot to free his brethren. At a pre-arranged time they simultaneously assembled back at the building that housed the workplace for the Center where the telemarketing computers were located (which was literally walking distance from their Habitat) and burned it to the ground, although they left the rest of the Center intact. They had all learned to drive vehicles during their military maneuvers, stole several trucks and cars, and drove straight to the Sanctuary at the Home for Wayward Souls, guided by Frederick.

The fire created such a commotion that neither the disappearance of the primates nor the vehicles was noticed until after they had already arrived at the Sanctuary. The single guard at the gate had been overcome by three chimps who ambushed him, tied him up and carried him off to the site of their abandoned homes.

Initially, both the police and the military thought that they had been stolen, or even kidnapped for ransom. The missing guard was the initial prime suspect until they finally located him bound and gagged in one of the homes.

Sebastian and Linderman quickly ruled out terrorism or counter-espionage from a number of standpoints, including the fact that the entire rest of the world was unaware that the primates were anything other than test subjects used for telemarketing schemes once their “pure” research purposes were co-opted by PharmaCorp.

Rather than wait to be raided by SWAT, the FBI and who-knows-who else once their location was discovered, Ash hired an attorney to represent the primates who were proclaiming that their treatment was inhumane and that they had been illegally enslaved against their will, given their newly-proclaimed sentience. No mention of The Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil was ever made, nor did they intend to make any reference to it.

Ash then also appeared on the local (and eventually national) press and media stating that the chimps and bonobos were requesting asylum at his church. This effectively threw the proverbial (forgive me) Monkey Wrench into law enforcement’s plans to overrun the premises to re-capture the Primates.

 

THFWS&TTM’s: A Tryst with a Twist

A Tryst with a Twist

 

Now the next part of our story gets a bit tricky; I mean, imagine two people who are only marginally acquainted with each other, but who nonetheless can’t wait to be alone together because they are filled with salacious curiosity and lust after each other in ways that approach biblical proportions to an extent that they can’t stop fantasizing about the next move, who will do what, etc. etc., all the while clairvoyant of each other’s thoughts, courtesy of a drug called The Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil (which more than lives up to its moniker), chaperoned by an equally telepathic Chimpanzee/Bonobo hybrid.

Anastasia drove a fully-restored, customized 1981 DeLorean DMC-12 that had been a wedding gift from her husband. She was not fond of leaving it anywhere, but the Sanctuary was about the safest place she knew of, and there was no way she could have driven herself, Stan, and Frederick to the Habitat.

Fortunately, Stan used a company vehicle (a midnight-blue Ford Crown Victoria…what else would you expect from a G-man trying to look inconspicuous?) that was adequate to the task at hand. Frederick sat in the back seat.

Anastasia slid in next to Stan, although he insisted she wear the center seat belt if she did. She was short enough that she did not obscure his view of the rear-view mirror, although he was somewhat uncomfortable with her stroking the top of his right thigh while he drove. She sensed that his entire body stiffened as soon as she touched him, although some parts stiffened considerably more than others….

(“Maybe I should put a little lipstick on his dipstick…”)

(“There’s no way I can drive if she does that…no way Bob!”)

(“You mean bob the knob?”)

(“No! I mean I don’t think I could concentrate on driving while you were doing that…not that I wouldn’t like a rain check as soon as we stop…”)

(“Well, then pull the car over before you pass out from all the blood draining from your big head to your not-so-little head…”)

(“You do realize I know everything that you two are thinking, right?), added Frederick (…but don’t hold back on account of me…I’m not one to judge or criticize…”).

Without turning around, they both knew he had “taken himself in hand”, so to speak, and Anastasia found herself a little bit turned on by the prospect of imagining a monkey jerking off in the back seat while she blew Stanley in the front, but Stan would have no part of any of that, which disappointed Frederick a great deal more than it did Anastasia, although he did finish masturbating before Stan could stop him. Anastasia was luridly fascinated and watched while Stan pulled the car over and made Frederick clean up the mess with a roll of paper towels he kept in the car.

(“Well, Dudley Do-Right…you really are prepared for everything, aren’t you?”) Anastasia jokingly replied. (So since we’re already stopped, I could help you with that stiff joint problem you seem to have developed…”)

“God Almighty already, Anastasia! I promise I will fuck your brains out as soon as we get rid of Frederick and get back to my place…OK? You can suck my cock as long and as much as you want, but I gotta get this monkey out of my back seat and delivered safely to The Habitat…” Stan was so flustered by Anastasia’s frank sexuality that he did not bother to realize he was actually speaking out loud, or that the guard at the entrance to The Center for Primate Research, aka The Habitat heard everything he said as they rolled up.

(“Hey! Who the fuck are you calling a monkey, you over-muscled jackass?!?!…It’s Bonanzee, in case you forgot….”)

“Sorry…” said Stan.

“Excuse me, Mr. Linderman?” The guard was trying very hard to keep a straight face as it was. “If you’re in a hurry, I can take Frederick the rest of the way to his habitat, if that will help, sir.”

“No, but thanks Williamson…” said Stan as he signed the list on the clipboard.

“Just trying to help, sir” said the guard as he winked to Stan.

“That will be all…but thanks.” Although Stan was more embarrassed than aggravated, he gave the guard a look that implored Williamson’s humanity not to repeat what he had heard but that nonetheless stressed what a bad idea it would be if he did. Stan was generally a very jovial, likeable man in many ways, if you were not the target for his role as Intimidator, but he also had the reputation of being a terrible enemy for anyone stupid enough to piss him off.

“Say no more sir…discretion is my middle name…you and your guest have a good evening.”

In less than five minutes time, Frederick was safely returned to his home, and Stan was “Expediting” his return to his abode with Anastasia at his side.

“…and by the way, Yes…” said Anastasia…“and No….”

“Excuse me?” said Stan.

“Yes, I can deepthroat and swallow, and it’s shaved as clean as a whistle, and eventually, I’ll probably let you do anal, if you’re a really good boy…and yes, I’ve been tested…negative by the way…and I’m very discreet…and no, I’m not wearing any panties and practically never do; no, you don’t have to worry about my husband…he’s not at all the jealous type and he’s out of the country for at least another month, so you don’t have to take me home until morning if you don’t want to…and yes, I intend to make sure you’re way too tired to even think about driving before noon, and yes I can make you the best breakfast you’ve ever had if I do stay, but no, I won’t get my feelings hurt if I don’t…remember…I can hear every thought you have.”

“OK, well…yes I am circumcised and fairly closely trimmed, but not shaved; no, I have never had a problem with premature ejaculation…yes I am sure you can make me cum several times before dawn…yes I’ve been tested…also negative, by the way, yes I love kissing, cunnilingus, and cuddling, and the scent of a woman. No, I don’t especially want to take you back any time soon…yes, I’d love for you to spend the night…two can play at this game, it seems.”

Stan was just then pulling into the parking space at his apartment building. He turned to kiss her before he even shut off the motor or the headlights, which seemed strangely out of character for him. They kissed deeply and passionately for several minutes and Anastasia unzipped his fly and started to stroke his cock before he could regain his composure enough to suggest they take the party upstairs, where he promised to show her a very, very good time.

He had barely finished locking the door before she had his cock in her mouth. He dropped his pants and picked her up, grabbing her ass and teasingly pushing his member against her sopping-wet cunt lips, parting them and pulling back just enough to spread them just a little more each time before he finally impaled her so deeply it took her breath away for a moment, even though she was well-prepared for the thrust that nearly made her cum right then and there.

She could feel the head of his generous manhood all the way back to that small pocket way past her uterus that felt like he was rubbing the base of her spine…there was no more room after that. She remembered the Tantric reference to the Kundalini Gland as she felt waves of pleasure cascading up her chakras. He had a wide, flared corona that was considerably thicker than his generous shaft, and she could feel him filling the pocket with it, stretching it open farther that she thought possible. She’d had three children and a very generous and accommodating, but tight pussy, but the majic pocket he found was bringing her over the edge quicker than she had thought possible.

He turned his back to the wall beside the door as she kicked her shoes off and placed her feet flat against the wall as he grabbed her buttocks and repeatedly slammed her down upon his cock. She began to push off from the wall with her feet and legs until he was almost completely withdrawn from her snatch before he forced his prick back into her all the way up to his balls, which she could hear slapping against her ass every time he thrusted into her.

She began to cum, and moaned with such a guttural animal sound that it surprised even her to hear it. He continued to violate her savagely, going even faster and harder than before…and she loved it.

She was cumming so hard that she knew he could feel it as her body was wracked with spasm after spasm. She was so wet that she could feel it pouring out of her and soaking his legs and his pants which were still around his ankles as she let go of her hold on his shoulders, arching her back as he held her aloft from behind her, fucking her furiously and continuously until she finally felt his throbbing cock spewing and gushing inside her as he held her tightly to him until he stopped, feeling his viscous semen flooding every nook and crevice of her cunt, flowing out of him and into her as it gushed past his slowly shrinking pleasure-pole.

He dropped to his knees and let her back rest on the floor as he slowly and gently stroked his cock in and out of her until it was completely flaccid as she spit it out of her with a final contraction.

He sat back and took off his shoes and pulled off his trousers. The next day they would have taken on the appearance of a heavily glazed French cruller, and would provoke a curious smirk from the dry cleaner who tried to pretend not to notice when he dropped them off on Monday.

Anastasia wanted a cigarette so badly she wished she could taste it, but she already knew Stan was a non-smoker. They rejoined to the bedroom, where she decided to slake her oral fixations on Stanley instead.

(“So what is ‘pegging’ I wonder?”) Stan mused as he recalled some random thoughts he intercepted shortly after their initial coupling.

“Yee Gads! You don’t miss much for someone only so recently clairvoyant…we can cross that bridge sometime in the future, OK? Now don’t make me start imagining old, naked lesbian nuns on the toilet just to get a little privacy….” Anastasia blurted out loud, realizing she was going to have to be more careful about her musings until she (and Stan) were better acquainted. She had a distinct impression that he would not be “down with that” (at least initially), and was somewhat surprised at how naive he was in such matters.

“OK, but we need to have a truce about a few things…I already figured out your husband’s name is also Frederick, but you call him ‘Rick’…I don’t want to know what agency he works for and you can’t ask for whom I work. I may be new to reading minds, but I was trained in how to block thoughts and ideas from my mind in case I was captured and interrogated…not even under sodium thiopental, and we need to find ways to focus our imaginations on other things or it will get too complicated to enjoy each other’s company.”  Stan spoke softly as he stroked Anastasia’s hair while she laid her head on his stomach.

(“OK…I was taught not to talk with my mouth full, but we don’t need to worry about now, do we?”) She knew well enough he got the idea, however.

And for the rest of that night, well past dawn they kept their minds well occupied with other thoughts they were only too happy to share.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THFWS&TTM’s: After the Reception

After the Reception
The rest of the wedding reception was not unlike watching a bullfight with Anastasia as the matador, and Stanley Linderman the bull.
She nuzzled his chest, and he thanked her for the dance, then tried to wander off so as not to seem too anxious, but she was unrelenting and he was grateful for that.
She ran off to get them each a glass of punch, which he initially refused on the grounds that he was “on duty” as Frederick’s “Chaperone” which was a very diplomatic term, but Anastasia surprised him by insisting that his was the non-alcoholic version that resided next to the real punch.
She explained that there were so many non-alcohol drinkers among the Home for Wayward Souls that everyone’s preferences had already been anticipated, including Stan’s.
He first smelled it, then gingerly tasted it before Anastasia finally said “Do I need to send it out for laboratory analysis?” before he shyly drank from it, although he did not finish it.
“I hope you won’t judge me for indulging, but I do like a nice Tanqueray Collins on really special occasions like this. It’s not that I need to drink anything, but it does help me relax and let my hair down when I want to have a good time…of course, I have to admit that although I don’t feel like I want this evening to end…well, it would be nice if it didn’t have to end here…I guess what I’m asking is do you have any plans after you escort your charge back to his dormitory?”
“You don’t beat around the bush much do you?” Stan asked.
“There’s no bush to beat around here honey…but if I have my way, you’ll find that out soon enough for yourself…” she quipped.
With that, Stan blushed furiously as she giggled.
“I’m sorry…I can get a bit forward sometimes…I don’t mean to sound crude or cheap…I just like to avoid the verbal counterpoint that usually gets too predictable…just to keep things interesting…I hope I’m not being too forward….”
There is a thin line between being too aggressive when men like Stan. Fortunately, she had a pretty good idea of the demarcation between just plain slutty and too provocative to ignore.
Stan did not yet know that her husband was also a classified non-entity but he did know that as long as he kept his proper decorum while on the job, she was not likely to take no for an answer, and he was not likely to give any negative responses any time soon.
If you have ever watched someone try to bear-bait a member of the Grenadier Guards or Queen’s Guards at Buckingham Palace, you can get an idea of the banter between Anastasia and Stanley. She is at once both coy and demure as well as enticing and provocative while he tries to pretend to remain unaffected….and he likes it.
Suddenly, Frederick showed up with two pieces of cake for Anastasia and Stan. He acts reluctant at first, but she coaxes Stan by trying to feed it to him, and he is no match for her considerable charms, and takes a few bites from her fork.
What neither of them knows is that Frederick has opened two capsules of The Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil over both their pieces of cake.
Anastasia is no stranger to the sacrament, but Stan has never even smoked marijuana before. Shortly after meeting Charles and Suki, she had willingly tried it, and found the experience to be exhilarating and life-changing and has never passed up an opportunity since.
There is no question that it was inappropriate for Frederick to “dose” the pair the way he did, but he already knew Anastasia enjoyed the experience and would not have said no, and as much as Frederick was fond of Stanley, he felt an obligation to free his mind from the chains that bound him in favor of helping liberate his spirit and his mind.
In the case of LSD, Peyote, Psilocybin, Mescaline, Changa, Yopo, or any other number of psychedelic or hallucinogenic drugs this would have been a clear-cut recipe for disaster. The onset of all of those drugs is disturbing, disorienting and generally dysphoric for at least the first twenty to forty minutes before the actual experience begins.
Sometimes there is vomiting. You may feel slightly sick, anxious and confused or even slightly febrile. Your hands may tremble. The onset of most mind-altering experiences is almost never pleasant, even for the zealots that consume them in anticipation of where it will lead.
Such was not the case with the Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. From one minute to the next, there is no real interruption of your consciousness…just insight…the likes of which you have never before even considered.
You may suddenly realize that you can now access every experience, every memory you have ever had. Yet everything about your new consciousness seems very normal. No scary monsters, no Gothic foreshadowing, no paranoia. No overload.
You just suddenly realize the way, the methods, and the techniques to achieve whatever you desire. You understand the difference between covetousness and real desire. The difference between what is important and what is not important. The difference between what is true and what is false.
It doesn’t really occur to you that much of anything has changed at all. You just feel more focused and aligned. You recognize the conflicts in your life for what they are and then just as quickly realize what you must do to resolve them, a little bit at a time, as each segment presents itself to you.
No overwhelming tsunami of realization or epiphany. It’s more like swallowing an entire elephant…only one mouthful at a time.
You may be suddenly surprised by the ease with which you anticipate long or complex series’ of events, step by step, or your ability to accelerate your own processes temporarily so as to achieve the effect of slowing down all the actions around you.
No dizziness, no blurred vision or speech, no limbic system depression or anything else to cause you to hesitate to drive a vehicle or vessel, operate machinery. For some, it takes hours or even days to recognize the effects that The Knowledge has on them.
Although The Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil was an analogue isomer that was a naturally occurring bi-product of one of PharmaCorp’s most recent explorations into a “fourth-generation of anti-depressants, The Knowledge bore almost no resemblance to MAO’s, Tricyclic, or even SSRI’s and SNRI’s.
MDMA (3,4-methylenedioxy-N-methyl amphetamine) is an empathogenic drug that was made categorically illegal in 1985, when the DEA placed it in the Schedule I category, meaning it is considered to have no accepted legitimate legal medical uses. It is commonly known as Ecstasy, X, XTC, or Molly (the form least likely to contain adulterants).
Prior to its demonization, clinical research indicated great promise in the treatment of mild psychiatric disorders and even severe presentations of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Other studies involving learning and perception were similarly encouraging.
Although many people were led to believe it to be dangerous because of its classification within the amphetamine and phenethylamine classes of drugs, it has become self-evident that no major world power would desire its population to be comprised of educated, sophisticated, fully rational, well-adjusted, self-actualized high-functioning adults.
Uninformed, fearful neurotics make the best consumers as they are much more easily led, lied to, and generally bamboozled by commerce, employers and politicians alike.
The first thing Merle did when he began his research for PharmaCorp was to re-arrange the MDMA molecule just subtly enough to shed the amphetamine and phenethylamine classifications.
Had Merle been some street-level chemist trying to dodge the DEA’s bullets, it might have gotten labeled as a designer drug, or copycat, but because of the veil of scientific research (as well as PharmaCorp’s ubiquitous political and economic clout) it managed to fly below the radar of government scrutiny.
Merle had a preternatural ability to visualize molecular structure as well as its anticipated effects. Once Merle discovered the even more dramatic and wide-ranging effects of the bi-product, he additionally “tweaked” The Knowledge to produce over five kilograms of pure product that required less than fifty micrograms to produce desired effects in humans and half that to achieve the level of sentience that Frederick had achieved through repeated doses and treatments.
Initial testing of selected primates that Frederick believed to be trustworthy, intelligent and deserving by virtue of their temperament were very promising, although he clearly was head and shoulders above all the rest, which was speculated to be a result of his genetics by virtue of his hybridization.
Although LSD is notorious for causing drastic visual distortions and outright hallucinations, Psilocybin for instance is much more subtle. You may notice a glow or sheen on certain objects that you never before noticed, or there may be a noticeable fluidity of background versus foreground images which may meld to produce two entirely different visual fields, much like several of Salvatore Dali’s paintings, such as the Bowl of Fruit and Saddleback Hound on the Beach for instance.
Sometimes objects may seem to step out of their backgrounds entirely. Candle flame meditation may also produce similar results, whereas sensory deprivation experiments more closely resemble LSD.
The Knowledge works very subtly and although the degree of visual effects is largely a product of the imagination of the subject, the simultaneity of experiences by several subjects, especially those in separate locations raises the supposition of hallucinations first to possible mass hysteria, and finally plausible alternative realities once enough randomized testing is done to give it the appearance of scientific method.
Kali and Suki, (both witches) needed less convincing in terms of scientific method than Darcy, who had come from an almost entirely clinical background ever since she left her tidewater birthplace. Ash’s agnosticism tended to incline him to more skeptical postulation. Merle and Charles confidently straddled both issues, since they had a family history of mysticism despite their extensive scientific pursuits.
Because Stanley was a realist, an agnostic and a quintessentially pragmatic man, he had learned to keep his whimsical and speculative longing for something more buried deep from view.
His colleagues for instance, knew nothing of his love of Mozart, Debussy, Charles Mingus, or Stanley Jordan, or that he grew up viewing prints by M.C. Escher, Aubrey Beardsley, Salvatore Dali and other graphic artists that his mother admired. His father was an omnivorous reader of everything from Robert Heinlein to Aldous Huxley, J.R.R.Tolkien, and William S. Burroughs, from Carlos Castaneda, to Hunter S. Thompson and Tom Robbins…and more.
Thankfully, although his parents had wallowed in the kind of liberal arts education that has become so déclassé of late; they had avoided visible social protest or involvement in the kind of radical political groups that would have made him a pariah to any three-letter agency requiring a top security clearance.
The seeds of imagination, speculation, whimsy and humor were planted long ago and so very deeply as to be occult to even scrupulous examination. Most people do not realize that any candidate who gets labeled as “excessively acculturated” is likely to be rejected, since free-thinkers often do not respond simplistically or reflexively to orders in the sort of knee-jerk fashion that law-enforcement and military agencies demand. Even the most complex circumstances require blind obedience and clear-cut actions devoid of ambivalence or interpretation.
Most people on the other hand, wouldn’t know higher consciousness if it jumped naked out on an airplane at ten thousand feet wearing a parachute and landed on their faces…well, on second thought, maybe then…because if we can’t feel it in our fingers, face or toes…it may well go unnoticed by even the best of us…(people much better than me I should hope) no matter if you need “something more….” or not, most of us question how the need for it seems to be a question of…well, let’s say “What’s in it for me?” Right?
And the truth is, that as long as we seek to define answers in such terms, the answer would not matter, because you would be highly unlikely to understand the meaning…no offense to anybody in particular. We all have the right to limit and rationalize ourselves in our own terms…of course.
And we all do it as a matter of course; without thought…Exactly.
At least until you come face to face with The Fruit of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil…because for some reason, eventually even the most rational discourse comes to embrace The Eternally Questioning Mind…voraciously…with no compassion for sentimentality nor sanction for the untenable.
The bleached bones of the ultimate truth…dispassionately neutral to any paradigm, parallel universe or other intellectual concept within the means of anyone with the understanding that the “N+1” is always an option.
And yet as much as your mind leads you to believe you are in a place where there are no philosophical “Axes to be Ground” nonetheless, you hear them squealing in metallurgic orgasms while an old familiar voice reminds you that “Every Day is Judgment Day and Nothing is guaranteed”.
Now if at that precise moment a butterfly, a Buddha, or an aboriginal Eve, for instance were to appear to you in a way that completely distracts you sufficiently to remind you of something so obvious that you can’t explain why you never thought of it before, and that timeless moment washes over you like a wave leaving you feeling forever changed…even if you are counting money, it will come to you on tiptoes, like lovers and assassins alike…then you will know…Something…for Awhile until The Next Time….
Imagine feeling like that and thinking like that without being able to Feel the cause of it…just coming to it all quite naturally, and thankfully so far having come to this place you’ve never been before within your conscious mind all the while knowing that these are parts of serial dreams we have been going through since we were children that we only recognized just now.
The Feeling of Connection. The Great Peace? Someplace where there is not always more? “Nirvana?” Not necessarily, but whatever it is, you will recognize it when you see it…none of it is everything….and none of it is everything….
Now while all this was going on in Stan’s Mind, he suddenly became preoccupied with how clearly he believed he could smell Anastasia’s snatch…he was convinced of it, and it appealed to him tremendously because it smelled so good to him, and he only wondered for a minute why it was that he had never noticed how sensitive his nostrils were.
And he could smell everyone else as well, but he was most attracted to Anastasia’s pheromones…like a heat-seeking missile to the tailpipe of a red-hot jet engine.
And because Stanley Linderman didn’t feel either drunk or drugged he did not recognize this enhanced version of…Exactly…Everything…Sentience as yet unknown or felt. An inescapable collision with beatific consequences that offered no prohibitions so far….
Which was about the time he visualized where and how the three of them (including Frederick) were going to facilitate each of their parts to this screenplay that was forming in his head going from the time they dropped Frederick off until they consummated this opportunity to get to know each other better.
It wasn’t until he started to believe he knew what Anastasia was thinking that he paused for just a moment to savor how blissful this line of thinking was getting to be for him…right up to about the point where he was very VERY VERY certain that what he believed she was contemplating was not anything about which he was likely to ever fantasize…at least not until just now.
And when the only physical sensation you can identify is this wonderfully light uplifting, joyous feeling in your chest you don’t suspect any drugs that you might be inclined to fear if all of this didn’t seem to be the most natural thing in the world during the very best day of your life…so far.
As he admired her face as she spoke to him in a voice that angels would envy, he saw her as all women, according to her nature which seemed to change like a glowing ember in a fire. She was alternately impish young girl, femme fatale, mother of Mata Hari, wizened crone and wicked co-conspirator and others….
She knew very well what this was, so it was just going to have to be up to Stanley Linderman to figure out as much as he could, given that she would be subject to broadcasting her thoughts before very long, no matter how much she tried to hide it…unless…who knows?
It was about that time that he found himself visualizing Anastasia as a very large female feline.

THFWS&TTM’s: The Reception

The Reception: THFWS&TTM’s
Anastasia arrived late to the wedding, and was sitting in the last row, behind and slightly to the right of Stanley Linderman, and the only one to notice when he wiped the tear from his eye. He was trying so hard to disguise the evidence of his emotional response he did not even notice Anastasia pretending not to notice at all.
But she did, and it intrigued her more than she intended to let on, at least at first. She could spot an MIB in a crowd in seconds…hell she was married to one, and she knew what they liked…at least the “right” ones.
She had always been a free spirit and had insisted that she be able to pursue her occasional romantic interests as long as they did not interfere with her basic commitment to her marriage. She hated the term polyamory for reasons she never bothered to explain, but it appeared that her biggest issue was with the idea of loving anyone other than your spouse. She preferred to regard her outside sexual adventures as more recreational than amorous.
Her husband knew better than to try to dictate too many rules to a woman like Anastasia, but they had mutually agreed upon a few. One of which was that she was not allowed to “cast her nets” in the same waters in which her husband fished, and preferably no one at DOD at all.
That wasn’t always easy but as sure as “rules are rules”, someone will decide to bend them without breaking them, and Anastasia was famous for being “bent, but not broken” herself.
Because of this, she demanded the utmost discretion from all of her lovers, especially the ones that worked for “three-letter agencies”. Most of them required equal discretion on her part as well, and that helped minimize the “tacky factor” of the actions and communications of indiscrete lovers who did not have at least as much to lose as she did, and governed their actions accordingly.
Her husband’s career required frequent travel, often outside the country. They had been married for over twenty years and a lot of water had passed under the bridge in that time.
Stanley was charged with taking Frederick back to the Habitat, once the reception was over. Usually, Darcy and Mark went with him after the services were over, but they anticipated this might stress Frederick to travel with Stanley alone, so they did it several times prior to the wedding, just to get him acclimated to the experience.
Frederick seemed to like Stanley, and he sensed that Stanley liked him, which he did. They both could be intimidating and they both seemed to admire each other’s power and confidence, but ever since Frederick had started to communicate with Stanley by signing to him when no one else was paying attention, Stan’s fascination with Frederick’s apparent ability to read Stan’s mind had not only gotten Stan’s attention, but his respect as well.
It had become a sort of cat-and-mouse game they played. Frederick would sign to Stan, and Stan would pretend not to understand, and then Frederick would respond to whatever Stan was thinking as if he had signed back.
Frederick continued with smug amusement as Stan began to purposefully try to test Frederick’s abilities until one day last week when he signed “I know why you can’t sign back…it’s OK…our secret…for now….”
Stanley Linderman was not a man who was given to “hocus-pocus”, “mumbo-jumbo” or even most forms of organized religion. His understanding with Frederick went considerably outside his comfort zone and there was no one with whom he felt he could confide on the subject, but he continued this game with his simian charge because for one thing, it amused and intrigued him and for another, Frederick continued to push the envelope whenever he was given the opportunity.
Sebastian had told Stan to remain at the reception as long as it seemed appropriate so as to be able to continue to gather whatever intel could be gleaned from his association with the members of The Home for Wayward Souls, and Stan was becoming rather fond of the experiences he was having at the Sanctuary, despite the necessity of his feigned disdain for the assignment so as not to become suspect of having gone “native” and having Sebastian remove him from it.
Frederick had developed a great deal of affection for Anastasia ever since she had met Charles and Suki, and tonight he decided to play matchmaker between her and Stan, as he already was aware of her attraction for him.
After the perfunctory toasts and assorted rigmarole associated with almost all wedding receptions, the real festivities got into high gear. Frederick never missed an opportunity to dance, so after dancing with all the brides (Darcy, Kali, and Suki) he enthusiastically insisted that Anastasia join him on the floor when the DJ played the New York Dolls’ recording of “The Monkey Dance” at Darcy’s suggestion. She had introduced it to Frederick some time ago, and it was probably his single favorite tune.
Anastasia had a wickedly playful sense of humor and she and Frederick put on such a show that soon the entire crowd had surrounded the two of them as the cavorted to the song.
When they finished, everyone applauded the couple as Frederick bowed and then pulled Anastasia by the hand over to Stan whereupon he placed her hand in Stan’s, signing “Dance…you two should get to know each other.”
Although he blushed slightly, as usual, Stan shrugged his broad shoulders in feigned ignorance of Frederick’s meaning until Mark volunteered “He wants you two to dance.” and Darcy chimed in “He also wants you to be friends.”
Stan noticed the subtle difference between the translation and what had been signed and pretended not to notice the difference, although Darcy had already suspected that Stan knew more than he let on.
“Anastasia, meet Stan, Frederick’s bodyguard…Stan, meet Anastasia, one of the most interesting women you may ever meet.” Darcy winked at Anastasia as she gave her introduction.
“You can say that again…” Charles and Suki chimed in almost spontaneously, and Suki giggled like a schoolgirl as they did.
The DJ played “The Lady Lies” by Genesis. Both Stan and Anastasia seemed slightly unprepared for a slower dance, let alone a waltz, given all the upbeat craziness of the Monkey Dance that had preceded it, but she was not at all shy and was glad to get the opportunity to get up close and personal with him, and he was relieved that he didn’t have to compete with the show Frederick and Anastasia had just put on. They were a hard act to follow, and Stan wasn’t really that much of a dancer and he would not have had the courage to approach her on his own.
That was one of the things she liked about him. Much like her husband, Stan had already proven himself to be courageous under fire and had distinguished himself many times in his abilities to handle even the most menacing forms of confrontation in his (classified) professional career (whatever that was), but he was a little bit old-fashioned and shy with women.
Most women found that quality to be charming; no lack of personal confidence in general and yet none of the arrogance and swagger that most women find repulsive…Stan was actually quite the ladies’ man once things got started (usually by them), but his career and the secrecy that accompanied it usually doomed his romances fairly early on in the relationship.
That made him a perfect fit for Anastasia.
“I’ve got a feeling it’s gonna be a tight fit,” she thought as she pulled herself a little closer to Stan as they danced. It had been her finding that many large, muscular men came up a bit short below the waist, and although she claimed to not be a “size-queen” her husband had occasionally joked about getting her a tattoo of a ruler on the inside of her left forearm, just because she seemed to be a magnet for well-endowed men.
Stan was well over six feet tall and Anastasia was about four-foot-fourteen, so when they danced together his belt line was almost up to her nipple line, and she could feel the growing prominence of his package as she coyly, but provocatively rubbed her body against his in a discreetly but very effective manner.
She sensed that a disturbance in her paradigm about sexual escapades was about to begin; that there was a foreboding of danger and excitement not usually found in her previous experiences that fascinated her, that made her heart race, her head spin, and nearly took her breath away, like driving past an accident possessed by the uncontrollable desire to look no matter how much you fear that what you may see could be something you may never be able to forget.
“Wherever this leads, I’m not sure, but it sure as hell is going to be very interesting,” she mused. “…and I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

We All Bring Something Different to the Table: THFWS&TTM’s

We All Bring Something Different to the Table

 

So consider for a moment what is represented by this primary union of individuals within the Home for Wayward Souls.

Ash is in his early thirties. He is handsome and physically fit. He represents a fusion of theologian and showman, an entertainer who desires to bring higher consciousness and spiritual union to an audience. He is as drawn to providing exposure to a diverse range of ideas and influences as he is to eschewing dogma and doctrine.

His wife Kali is a little older and in her early forties although she looks much younger. She is the Earth Mother; the high priestess of Sacred Sex and cunning practitioner of the knowledge and wisdom of Wicca. She is soft and feminine and her body is a lavishly lurid testament to the sexual superiority of women and the power of the Moon.

Merle is the preternaturally tall lanky, and enormous embodiment of all things masculine although he also possesses an occult fascination with women’s apparel, especially their undergarments. He is a shaman, a chemist, a botanist and archetypical prototype of the aboriginal peoples of what is now called America. He is predominantly Apache although he admits to a white Spanish ancestor far back in his lineage. He is the magician and medicine man of the family; the sorcerer and brujo of the chemistry of the body and mind. He is also in his early thirties and the third leg of the triad of Ash, Kali, and himself.

Suki is forty; the child-bride of Charles. She is the unlikely combination of a powerful Eastern-European warlock and a Japanese Tsukimono-suji (white witch). Once a lean and athletic hard-body, a seemingly endless series of health problems, childbearing and the complacency of a decade and a half of marriage left her overweight and out of shape as her libido took a nosedive.

Because of their parents’ association with each other, she had known Charles all her life and had a life-long crush on him despite the fact that he treated her more like a baby sister until years later when they met at a family reunion.

They both had been “swingers” both before and after they fell in love as adults until she seemed to lose all interest in sex.

Charles’ infatuation with Jennifer had reawaked her from her long winter’s hibernation as she exercised  and dieted her way back to fitness before she met Gerard, who reawakened her sexuality and vitality as well as opening her eyes to the benefits of Polyamory, despite his monolithic desire to possess her completely.

Charles was the worldly designated elder of their family of eight. He had a rapacious desire for all manner of knowledge with an uncanny ability to “connect the dots” of seemingly unrelated semantic memory  and vast personal experiences.

He had either received training or worked at one point or another in so many different and seemingly unrelated occupations that it was difficult to imagine how he had managed to acquire so much experience in his sixty-plus years, especially because few people would have guessed him to be over fifty. He looked distinguished and mature despite his compulsively iconoclastic and mischievous behaviors.

He was Ash’s right hand man and jack of all trades who not only helped engineer and bring to fruition many of Ash’s wildest schemes, but frequently came up with a great deal of creative inspiration of his own. He was a catalyst for almost everything that took place within the Home for Wayward Souls.

He often described himself as a “pervert’s pervert” and “something of an acquired taste like Scotch whiskey, Cuban cigars and anal sex” which was a marked contrast to Suki’s almost instantly likeable, outgoing and social nature.

For the last eight years he had worked as a telemarketer. It was supposed to just be a summer job until something better came along. Because of his involvement with The Home for Wayward Souls, he really didn’t care if something did…for the first time in many years, what he did for a living…for money…was not the most important work in his life, no matter how good he got at doing it.

Darcy was a thoroughly Southern thirty-something gal who had been around the block a few times, the sadder-but wiser woman who had risen above her working-class background of alcoholism, and the seemingly endless line of men who would limit and betray her until she got straight and became first a veterinary technician, then went on to college to become an animal behaviorist. She was still working on her master’s degree when she met and fell in love with Mark while working at the Habitat.

She was tall, blonde, thin and pretty. Even pregnant. Being almost six feet tall herself, she was very much attracted to Merle, who was the only man she had ever been with who towered over her. She became infatuated with his enormous uncircumcised cock and the way it made her feel like he was going to split her apart as she encouraged him to violate her savagely. Her advanced state of pregnancy lately had required considerable discretion on Merle’s part as well as hers.

And just to round out their perspective as well as teach them how to communicate without words we have Frederick, a Chimpanzee/Bonobo hybrid who insisted on being called a Bonanzee. His DNA structure had somehow crossed the abyss of non-human primates and closely resembled the first known hominids that later became Man.

Even before he was given The Fruit of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, he was the most sentient of primates other than man, and to all knowledge, the only one of his kind.

He taught them of the chimpanzee legend of the Origin of Man and how they had made the Great Eurasian Leap Forward during the Upper Paleolithic Revolution by way of interbreeding with aliens who came to Earth to give them something that resembled The Knowledge, thereby imparting sentience to “The Talking Monkeys”.

This group of eight had been a self-sustaining family of sorts for months now, long before their group marriage would have seemed to close the circle. As much as all of them had engaged in various polyamorous adventures on their own before they became The Eight, including a great deal of casual swinging, they had become a close-knit but closed society that had not been breached for nearly a year.

Once again, we see how rules are made to be bent, if not broken. For every absolute, there is an exception out there waiting to make itself known and with which there will come a day of reckoning.

Anastasia had described herself as “…bent, but not broken” as she had also described Suki, her new lover. Even before they met, they both sensed a chemistry between them that is not often seen in ostensibly heterosexual women that most definitely preferred men but were not afraid to acknowledge what seemed to come so naturally to them.

Perhaps not surprisingly, they quickly added Charles to the mix, although he jokingly remarked how he was simply there “to lend an air of respectability to this otherwise unsavory and disreputable group.”

Anastasia was a retired (disabled) ob/gyn nurse who was trying to break into free-lance journalism. Fortunately, her husband supported her efforts, lest she starve, as assignments were few and far between…especially ones that actually paid spendable currency of the realm.

She started doing “research” regarding the Kink/Fet community for a bi-line she was trying to sell to a magazine publisher because somewhere she had read that one should write about what you know, and what she didn’t already know she was curious and anxious to learn.

As they all lived in Florida and were close enough to represent less than a day’s drive, a “friend of a friend” had told her about Charles, Suki, and their activities and shenanigans and thought it might be a good way to “get inside” their community.

Her paternal grandfather was Sicilian and her grandmother was Lakota Oglala and Brule Sioux. She described her mother’s family as “a bowl of mixed nuts” from all over Europe and South America.

She had lived with her Sioux grandmother since she was twelve years old after her parents divorced and learned the ways of the medicine woman while in her care and considered her ethnicity to be Indian, but did not like to discuss her childhood except for her memories of her Grandmother.

She disliked ethnic labels and stereotypes in general and about Sicilians and Indians in particular, and for years was likewise very closed about sharing her knowledge and practice of Wicca, preferring to be an anonymous solitary practicing witch.

She had a lion’s mane of thick dark hair that she often dyed with henna because she liked the way it brought out the red highlights.

She had the deepest, darkest, most soulful eyes Charles had ever seen. They were kind, loving, sad, and mischievous almost all at once. You could lose yourself in them if you weren’t careful, and she frequently encouraged many to revel in reckless abandon, like the imp of the perverse she embraced.

She was ever-so slightly full of figure, the most mature of them, soft of heart and immense of soul, so much like Kali, that it wasn’t long before she had charmed the Dark Mother too . She was a woman’s woman in every sense no matter how much she liked “the boys” as well.

To watch her care for Darcy either as a nurse or as a mother to a mother-to-be was to give witness to something at once both beautiful and primordial enough to make you smile just to cover the lump in your throat (and if that’s not enough to bring a tear to your eye, I’d say you’ve got spit for blood).

Anastasia was the lioness of the pride, and Darcy was the cheetah with cub. To see them together you’d be convinced they had been cats together before in a previous life. It had been agreed she would serve as mid-wife when the time came.

Charles described Suki and Anastasia discovering each other as being “…like suddenly finding a ripe peach in your refrigerator that you never even knew you had when you were really hungry and would have settled for half a microwaved burrito if one had been there..”

The women encouraged and energized each other in a way that inspired and provoked Charles in ways he had not experienced in many years.

For the three of them, this was heaven. Since weekends were best for the three of them, it had become accepted that Anastasia was their mutual “plus one” for any activities at The Home for Wayward Souls, and she was instantly accepted by virtue of Charles and Suki’s endorsement with the understanding that at least for now, she was their guest.

When she would come to visit she would move in for no more than three days at a time. She said she had good reasons for her seventy-two hour honeymoon curfew, but never got around to really explaining them.

They were generally too busy until they were too exhausted to get around to such discussions, and by the time they were ready, she was already “gone like a cool breeze….”

“Leave them gasping for breath and begging for more before they even know where you came from or where you went…a little mystery is good for the both of them…they have security and familiarity, and I have spontaneity  and the enigma of all the women behind the all the veils.”

“I am the other woman that both of them seek because I know of what they dream and know that they will love me when I give them my very self, spun from the stuff of which their dreams are made.”

Anastasia was not boasting. If all went well, she would be back for good one day, and then they could discuss her former reasons at length. Once she had gotten “inside” she no longer wanted to go anywhere else.

And it was good…like the way God said at the end of each day when he said:  “… And it was good…” …it was very, very good.

No matter how much they brought to their table, there was plenty of room, with a place always set for Isaiah, lest no wayward traveler go hungry or without shelter during this their time of feasting upon all manner of things.