Juliette of Mars

"Every filthy rich lady whose husband is too busy to fuck her, every closet 'mo, and more than a few of us who are out of the closet, and lots and lots of other people are going to want these things. Every cock house in town is going to want two or three hidden away in a cupboard, just in case. But they're really cutting edge stuff, and if we've got the first...what, maybe 400...on the planet, just think of what we can get for them."

By now, he was stroking it and it was quickly stiffening and growing to a rather unnatural size. "Ummmm, lovely," he crooned, then tossed it back into the box. It was now fully erect and stood on its hands, swaying back and forth, as if looking for the nearest wet, warm hole to penetrate.

"The hard decision," he continued, "would have been, if we didn't have room for all 10 crates, what – or who – to leave behind." He replaced the lid and bent to grab one end of the crate. "My choice would have been Frankie, that worthless, drunken piece of shit. Anyway, he's probably passed out by now and would have been in no position to argue. Now, help me get this out to the truck."

Every second, I didn't like Boof more. But I knew he was right that we'd be in trouble if we didn't find a way to take all 10 crates. There's no way we could come back without the phro-mone. And, the way I saw it, if Thug Zero found out that these dildorks, or whatever they were called, had been here, which he probably would have, and that we didn't bring them back, that could also raise some real issues in regard to our future health.

On the other hand, I had the unhappy feeling that Boof was thinking about delivering the phro-mone to Thug Zero and trying to keep the dildrones entirely for ourselves. I was pretty sure that wasn't in our best interests. In fact, I thought it was fucking nuts. But I figured we needed to get everything into the truck now and argue about what to do with it on the way back to Marineris.

As we carried the crates to the truck, I realized I should know more about these limp little phony pricks. It might help me work out what to do with them. "So where are the legs, the head, the heart and lungs and all that other stuff?" I asked.

"The legs are so shrunk that they're internalized. These things don't need much food because they basically go dormant when they're not, you know, excited. So they come with small, implanted, replaceable nutrition packs, sort of like batteries. Also waste packs. They do need to breath, of course..."

"Of course," I echoed.

"So it's got a tiny nose somewhere. But it doesn't need a mouth, eyes, ears or brain, and they were engineered right out. Well, it does have a little brain stem for basic stuff, but that's it. The article I read described them as, 'Quintessentially male, a little bit of arm, no brain and a lot of cock.' The fluid dynamics are kind of cool, though. The ball-sack is filled with some sort of liquid. When the dildrone gets excited, it sucks air into the scrotum, which pushes the liquid out into the shaft and makes it swell up and get hard.

"They come in an incredible variety of colors, sizes, shapes and orientation. They make them big, small, thick, thin, black, white, 'tro, 'mo and 'tro-'mo. Something for everyone," he crowed, as if working up a sales pitch already.

"Except me," I pointed out.

"They're all sterile, of course" he went on, pointedly ignoring my observation. "No one wants these things going around and reproducing. But some of them make a flood of cum and some don't produce a drop. Some are even adjustable. You can stay dry, or get soaking wet, whatever you want." He paused. "I guess you don't read much, so maybe you haven't heard of them," he finished smugly.

"So, where did you read about these things anyway?" I asked.

"Interplanetary Sex-Sleaze Weekly," he replied proudly.

"Yeah, I keep forgetting what an in-tee-leck-chewul you are," I muttered.

Frankie was sprawled in the back of the truck, passed out. So we had to drag him into one of the seats before we could begin loading the crates. He woke up a little and chugged down the last of the gin. I have no idea why we were stupid enough not to take the bottle away while he was unconscious.

Juliette continued to keep watch while Boof and I loaded the truck. When we were done, we strapped Frankie in and headed for the airlock. The guards glanced at our papers again, looked the cargo over from outside the truck and waived us through the inside door.

Then, just as the outside door slid open, Frankie rose unsteadily from his seat and teetered into the cargo area.

"Lets go, Stones," said Boof. "We need to get out of here, get back to Marineris, unload our cargo and dump this truck before someone finds the security guard."

"Sit down, Frank," I ordered. But he ignored me. "Shit," I muttered and hit the accelerator.

The truck lurched out into the darkness. Frankie staggered and fell to the floor of the cargo area, then stood and pulled the top off the open crate of 'phro-mone. He took out a carton of 12 vials. "You know what?" he asked, way too loud, "This shtuff isn't the answer. Ish not the solution. Ish the problem. We all think we need thish artificial shit to enjoy sex, the most natural thing in the world. But we don't."

"He wants to go to Borealis and get all organic," I explained.

"Damn right," he said, "if I could fucking afford it. You know what I think? I think we should chuck all thish shit out and drive this buggy up to Borealis. This truck's gotta be worth a shit-load of shit."

Boof pointed out that the truck was worth a lot less than 100,000 docs, and that it wasn't designed for off-road travel and would probably break down within a half kilometer if we left the paved road.

At that point, Juliette, who had been eyeing the four extra crates, asked about them. I explained about the dildrones and how they might make us very, very rich, or might get us killed, and the argument began.

As I had suspected, Boof wanted to deliver the 'phro-mone to Thug Zero, but keep the dildrones for ourselves. Juliette and I were worried about that. I mean, we didn't even know who we'd stolen this stuff from. Let's say the "owner" figured out that Thug Zero was behind the operation and bitched to him about the dildrones. Then Thug Zero would figure out that we took them on a job that he'd planned and financed, and that we hadn't shared with him, and he'd sic The Flea on us. If he let us live, which was unlikely, it would be minus one or more significant body parts. I thought we should deliver everything to Thug Zero and ask, politely - very politely - for a 50/50 split of the proceeds from the dildrones. And then say "Okay, thank you, sir," when he offered 80/20 or 90/10.

While Boof and Juliette and me tried to work out what to do with the dildrones, Frankie listened. After a while, he tried to count the crates . The first time he lost track at five. The next time he kept his concentration, but his double-vision was so bad he came out with about eleventy-two. When he tried closing one eye, he was too drunk to manage it. He kept closing both and losing count. Eventually, he held a hand over one eye and came pretty close. "Why do we got nine crates?" he asked. "Thought you said s'posed to be ten."

We ignored him.

"Seems like those famous stones have turned to jelly," Boof taunted me. "Afraid to take a little risk?"

"Afraid to take a dumb risk." I answered. I was trying to drive and, at the same time, persuade Boof of the wisdom of my plan for the dildrones. It was dark and I wasn't doing a great job of either.

"Hold on," Frankie interrupted. He seemed to have suddenly digested the conversation that had been going on around him, and he seemed to have sobered up a little, too. "Wait a minute. Even if we get only a small reward from Thug Zero, it will be more than enough for Juliette and me to buy our way into Borealis."

Before the last syllable slipped from his lips, he knew how big a mistake he had made. He hadn't discussed Borealis with Juliette. He was pretty sure she wouldn't want to give up 'phro-mone and minglers to go there. He was absolutely certain she wouldn't do it to be with him. And he had just put her in a position where she had to say so.

"Borealis?" she asked tentatively.

"I knew you wouldn't want to go. I knew it," Frankie whined pathetically. He now seemed completely sober, as if his drunkenness had been an act. "All you care about is drugs and slutty sex and ... and....and," his voice rose as he continued. "And this," he said fiercely, waving the 'phro-mone 12-pack he was still holding. "Well, you don't need this. I don't need it. None of us need it," he screamed, and threw it to the floor as hard as he could.

The 'phro-mone packaging was designed to protect the vials from breakage, but not to stand up to the kind of violence Frankie had just inflicted on it. Five vials popped out and flew into the air. Boof leaned back and managed to catch one. Two of the other four broke when they hit the floor of the truck

Now, 'phro-mone is pretty potent stuff. At a typical mingler, you might use 2 or 3 ml, dispersed in a large room over several hours. Frankie had just spilled 50 ml all at once in the confined space of our little truck. And we couldn't exactly open a window to air it out. The recirculation filters would clear it out eventually, but long before that could happen, in fact in the next few seconds, we were all in for a super-megalust overdose.

I pulled over to the side of the road and held my breath to try to get time to think. But a little 'phro-mone must have been absorbed through the pores of my skin, because I sprouted an almost instant boner. Juliette, who hadn't thought to hold her breath, responded even faster and with more intensity. She immediately unbuckled her safety harness. One hand went to her crotch to stroke her stiff clit. She turned to reach for me with the other, her mouth open and tongue protruding slightly. Those nine tiny, glowing, pink vibrator-studs arranged in a heart shape, never looked more like a street sign on the road to paradise. But I had a real strong feeling that, this time, that's not where the road would lead.

Frankie and Boof dropped their trousers and leapt into each other's arms.

Still holding my breath, I knew I we were in big trouble and that I had to fight against my quickly growing need to stuff my stiff cock into Juliette's nearest orifice. I compromised and turned to kiss her, but as I did so, from the corner of my eye, I saw the top slide off the crate of dildrones which we had opened in the warehouse.

Several big, hard dildrones climbed out of the crate. They were obviously responding to the 'phro-mone and, within seconds, rigid cocks were cascading from the crate like pop-corn from a popper.

Using every shred of self-control I could gather, I pushed Juliette away and looked at the other dildrone crates. They were shaking and bulging and threatening to burst. I grabbed the truck's repair kit and pulled out the duct tape, planning to try to reinforce them.

Meanwhile, the dildrones from the first crate were hopping across the floor on their hands toward the four of us. Most of them seemed to be of the 'tro persuasion and headed for Juliette, but there were plenty of 'mo models scrambling toward Boof and Frankie and me.

Boof turned away from Frankie and eagerly welcomed the dildrones, grabbing one with each hand to lick them and suck on them, while several more pulled themselves up his legs, heading, I guessed, for his ass hole.

Frankie scooped up a couple of handfuls and lifted them to his mouth. Another dozen climbed on his calves and thighs. Boof sat down on the floor and let the little monsters climb all over him.

Juliette was now into serious sexual ecstasy. She was still in her seat, legs spread widely, writhing frantically as the dildrones began to swarm over her. Three or four were poking at her cunt and a few more at her asshole. She lifted two big black ones to her mouth. As scary as it was on one level, on another, it was sexiest thing I had ever seen. But I tore myself away, knocked the disgusting little buggers off my own legs and began wading toward the three intact crates, which were beginning, ever so slightly, to split at the seams.

I hadn't taken two steps, however, when I saw the first rigid hunk of genetically-engineered prick slide down Frankie's throat. He had been sucking on it, and then it just disappeared into his mouth, balls and all. His eyes bugged widely, and he obviously couldn't breath, but instead of trying to remove the dildrone lodged somewhere in his throat, he reached for two more and stuck them both in his mouth at the same time.

I rushed over to him and pulled the two out of mouth. I then moved behind him and wrapped my arms around his chest and squeezed real hard, hoping I might pop the first one out of his throat. It didn't work, and while I squeezed, he was reaching for more dildrones.

I glanced at Juliette and saw that she had three huge slabs of artificial meat deeply embedded in her pussy. Blood was oozing out between them. She had three more in her ass, one of which looked like it was about to perform the same disappearing act as the one in Frankie's throat. There were two wiggling in her mouth and she was grabbing wildly for more.

For the first time in my life, I froze. I couldn't choose between Juliette and Frankie or between trying to save one of them and taping up the intact crates. It seemed hopeless anyway. I couldn't hold my breath much longer, and wouldn't any use at all once I got a full dose of 'phro-mone.

A small army of dildrones scrambled up from my ankles, some outside my pants, some inside, and I started to pull off the ones I could reach. Just then, the first of the remaining crates exploded, showering phony penises all over the interior of the truck. A second later the other two crates blew apart and there were dildrones on my head, in my hair, on my shoulder, all over. I was knee-deep in them. They were climbing all over me and trying to force their way between my lips, but I clenched my jaw tightly. I still had the duct tape, so I ripped off a length and put it over my mouth.

I saw Juliette roll out of her seat and onto the floor where she quickly disappeared under a mob of frantic dildrones. Two or three of the pricks which had crawled up inside my pants were forcefully probing my sphincter. It actually felt pretty good, which was a little scary. I dropped my pants, to try to get them off me, but there were too many coming too fast.

My lungs were screaming for air. I looked down at Frank. There were already so many of the nasty bastards in his ass hole that his flesh was beginning to tear. Except for the fact that he was suffocating, he seemed to be enjoying himself. I couldn't look. Boof was in about the same condition, but that didn't bother me so much.

I couldn't hold any breath any longer and decided that, if we were all going to die, I wanted to be holding Juliette at the end. I inhaled deeply through my nose and took a step toward where I had last seen her. I don't know if I ever got there or not.

As soon as the 'phro-mone hit my lungs, the most vivid and euphoric sexual hallucination of my life came at me like one of the holographic tidal waves at the Atlantis Club. It swept me away to a place that I'll never completely leave until the cops carry out my sentence.

Juliette was there too and she was even more beautiful and sexy than in real life, as if that were possible. And I was incredibly, inhumanly well-hung.

I was tied, spread-eagled and naked, on my back on a huge, soft bed, my enormous cock so hard it hurt, so swollen it was a blotchy pink/white/purple. Juliette moved slowly and casually around the bed, dressed in a series of outfits so stunningly slutty, they excited me to the bursting point. As I writhed on the bed, twisting and turning so as never to loose sight of Juliette, the silken restraints slid smoothly around my wrists and ankles, and my back slipped sensuously on the satin bed covers.

Every time I blinked, Juliette changed her appearance and clothing to become even sexier than before. Tiny, pleated skirts, so short they didn't cover anything. Panties so sheer that I could clearly see her stiff, pulsing clit and the puffy lips of her gaping pussy. Tight, little tops that sometimes covered her nipples, sometimes didn't, but never hid them. Spike heels, stockings, boots, dainty lace gloves. All in luminous pinks, purples and greens which clashed gorgeously with her hair, which was usually bright red, but occasionally blonde, pink or rainbow-streaked with other colors which have no names and probably existed only in my fantasy.

She displayed a kaleidoscopic variety of makeup, hair-dos and accessories, too. Red lips, blues lips, earrings, pig-tails, hair ribbons. Big, bold, chunky bracelets. Little delicate ones. Jeweled chokers and chokers that said "FUCK ME". All the erotic, intoxicating, provocative, flirtatious things that she knew that men, and especially me, love.

It was like I could read her mind, like I was telepathic or something, and I knew she was wallowing in the power of being able to get any man, and again especially me, so excited he would need to fuck her instantly, any time, any place she wanted - so excited she could make him cum without physical contact. And I knew she was reading my mind and knowing that I, as always, loved being wooed and seduced.

Juliette reached out, as if to stroke my prick, but didn't. As I knew she would, she braced her hand on the bed, leaned forward and made kissy-face instead.

I could feel how badly she needed to get stuffed full of cock. It wasn't that she needed it any less than I needed to stuff her. It was just that she was a tiny bit more patient. And I experienced how much she was enjoying the tease. For her, it was almost the best part of sex. But I could also see through her eyes, which were firmly locked on the biggest, hardest, most exciting chunk of male flesh she had ever seen, and I knew that she was desperately waiting for the moment when even she couldn't resist it any more.

I barked a string of curses and thrashed against the restraints, trying to get my cock into my Juliette's mouth, trying to break free, and knowing I couldn't. I was already twice as excited as I had ever been in real life and still wasn't cumming.

"FUCK ME, FUCK ME, FUCK ME" I screamed, my cock twitching uncontrollably. But I knew she wasn't done torturing me yet.

"Why should I?" she answered.

"Because I can see that your clit is as hard as steel and your cunt is gnawing at your panties and drooling like an itty-bitty, tender, toothless mouth. And I've got a cock as big as my arm and I'll give you the biggest goddamn orgasm that any woman has ever had in the history of the universe."

"You're very persuasive. I'll have to think about it," she purred, and climbed onto the bed, kneeling on the edge, hands clasped behind her back to thrust her proud little tits up and out. "And you think about how you made me beg and beg and beg when I was tied up at that mingler." After displaying her breasts for a few seconds, she put her hands down on the bed and leaned forward until her glossy lips were almost pressed against my throbbing prick. But not quite.

"UUUUNNGH, UNGHH UUNNNNGH," I angrily tried to demand that the magical lips surround my manhood so I could unload my god-awful urgency into her pretty, little mouth, but I only produced a loud series of growling grunts.

And then I was no longer reading her mind. IwasJuliette, and she was Stones. We were the same person, somehow spread out between two perfect bodies. And both spirits lived in both bodies.

We opened our girl-mouth wide and repeated licked the air with our tongue, displaying the nine tiny, pink, glowing, battery-operated vibrators. We turned them on and tortured our boy-ears with their soft hum.