tagHumor & SatireLesbian Heaven: The Side Show

Lesbian Heaven: The Side Show

byslitlicker69©

HUMOR/SATIRE: How a straight male ended up in Lesbian Heaven

(The idea for this story came from the original ¬LESBIAN HEAVEN by Celeste999. That was a real gem of a story and I suggest that you read it first as background before reading this. Bear in mind though, that while her story was a heart-wrenching, spill-your-guts type of story, mine is all light-hearted and tongue-in-cheek. My version of ¬LESBIAN HEAVEN¬ came to me one night in a dream during a time when Celeste was going through some tense times in her life, so I wrote this mainly to cheer her up and give her a few laughs to get her through her days of tension. After reading the story she insisted that I post it, so here it is. Hope the rest of you enjoy it as much as we did. I would like to also forewarn readers ahead of time, that there is no hardcore sex in this story.)


++++++++++++++++++

One day I was doing heavy bench presses by myself without a spotter (anyone stupid enough to do that deserves to die), and after working a set to exhaustion I tried to rack the bar but it bounced away from the rack just as my strength had given out. The bar crashed down to my throat breaking my windpipe, shattering every vertebrae in my neck and killing me instantly.

After dying I hoovered in the air a bit over my body staring down in wonder at the stupidity of being pinned to the bench by a barbell. Then I caught the elevator down. I'd heard that hell was where all the kinky women and (very) "hot" parties were and I wanted to be where the action was.

When I arrived at the obsidian gates to sin and perdition Old Saint Lucifer himself was there waiting for me. He sat down at his computer, tail sticking out behind the chair, and looked up my resume.

"It says here, Mr. Slitlicker," the devil said, "that you've written a little porn in your time, committed a little adultery, and taken the Lord's name in vain now and then. Those are all points in your favor, sir, but as I look over the rest of your portfolio I see that you neither drink, nor smoke, nor have you ever used drugs. You've never raped or beaten up a woman, you've never abused a child, never kicked your dog, you don't lie, steal, cheat, or murder. You don't even like violent video games."

"Besides," he said, a slight sneer creeping across his face, "you've even voted Republican a couple of times in your lifetime."

Satan turned from his computer screen and with great sadness in his eyes, and a shake of his head, he said, "I'm sorry sir, but your resume overall does not qualify you for a position in our establishment. I'm afraid you'll have to get back on the elevator and try your luck with the all the goody-two shoes up there." He nodded his horned head contemptuously towards "up there."

Crest-fallen and with slumped shoulders I ambled back to the elevator and pushed the "up" button.

Arriving at the pearly gates of the Christian heaven I was met at the entrance by St. Peter. I was in no hurry to spend the rest of eternity sitting on a cloud playing a harp, but I needed a place to stay real bad. They still do things the old fashioned way up there, so St. Peter, instead of using a computer, checked my background in his huge, hand-written book.

After checking my resume in his ledger, old St. Pete looked back up at me with sadness in his eyes. Scratching his long, white, and very ancient beard, he said. "I'm sorry, my son, but you don't belong to any recognized church, you've never been baptized, and you flunked a polygraph test once on planet earth. That's three strikes and you're out. "Besides," he said, a sneer creeping across his face, "you've voted Republican a couple of times in your life."

You just can't win I thought to myself.

"I regret to inform you sir that based on your resume we will not be able to offer you a position in our establishment." With that old St. Pete closed up his ledger, re-entered the pearly gates from which he came--and then slammed them in my face and locked them with a loud "click."

Something about the "Peter" principle I never did like, I thought.

Dejected, dispirited (no pun intended), and utterly alone, I floated aimlessly around the cosmos. I was amazed to learn how many different heavens there were. There were heavens for Gay Males, heavens for monks, heavens for nuns and virgins, Republicans and Liberals, heavens for Engineers (a very strange breed), heavens for lawyers(where they argue and nit-pick with each other for eternity), heavens for politicians(where they make promises to each other for all eternity), heavens for Dallas Cowboys fans, heavens for bud drinkers, heavens for Buddhists, and for Hindus, etc. In short there was a heaven for just about any and every life style on the face of the earth. But, since I never had much of a life--much less a life style--none of these places would have me.

So, I just floated and floated aimlessly through the cosmos. Eventually, however, I bumped into (literally) a few other misfits like myself and we decided to start a Pizza delivery business to serve all the various "Heavens" up here in the great unknown.

My first gig was to deliver a stack of Pizzas to Lesbian Heaven. So, I hopped into my flying saucer with the Pizza Delivery sign on top, put the Pizzas on the seat next to me and took off. Upon arriving at the very ornate, labia-shaped, coral pink and lavender gates, and balancing the stack of Pizzas in one hand, I pressed the clitoris-shaped buzzer at the top of the gates. While waiting for someone to open up the gates for me, I peered between the bars blocking the "vulvic" entrance.

Through the haze and mist I gazed upon a wondrous sight. There was my dear friend Celeste, who had been hit by a truck a few months previously, ensconced upon a golden throne. She was dressed all in white and was surrounded by a large number of gorgeous attendants dressed in nothing but bright red latex micro minis. Some of the them were manicuring her nails (feet and hands both), some waved fans over her face while yet others stroked her arms and legs with feathers. A couple of them were running their fingers through her long blonde hair. One was even dropping grapes into her mouth one by one, while another stood by with a glass of wine ready.

Just like Celly, I thought, always surrounding herself with beautiful girls.

Upon hearing the front gate buzzer buzz, Celeste wriggled her pinky finger in the direction of the gate and one of her little hotties scampered over to open it up. When I entered, Celly recognized me and rising up off her throne she glided towards me, her luxurious, celestial white gown trailing along behind her. We embraced, glad to see each other after this long separation.

Looking around the place and seeing all the gorgeous and kinky women going to and fro and doing this and that with each other, I thought, hey, this is a hundred times better than anything old St. Lucifer has to offer down in hell. I just had to get myself in this place somehow. I turned back to Celly. "Since you are queen of this place, do you suppose you could get me a gig in here? I'll be janitor, or anything, just to be able to watch. And you know how I like to watch."

Celly laughed and said, "yes Slitlicker, I know well how you like to watch. But sorry, dear friend, I'd love to help you but the girls here would all freak out if they saw a man and we'd have a rebellion on our hands."

"Well, maybe you could arrange to get me a sex change operation?"

"Sorry again," she said, "I can't help you there either, all the plastic surgeons and sex change doctors are down in hell with Satan."

"What if I lasered my body and facial hair and cross-dressed?"

Celly giggled. "That might work for a few moments, but as soon as your tool tented your skirt your secret would be out--literally."

"Ah, chucks," I said, turning away and shuffling despondently towards the exit.

"Wait, don't go yet," she said--and with a wave of her hand she dismissed all of her little playthings leaving the two of us alone in her throne room. "I think I have the solution. We have been experimenting with virtual reality technology up here, and we just might be able to help you out."

Celeste reached under her throne to retrieve a couple of boxes. "Since you are a close friend I'll give these items to you but it must remain a secret between you and me."

"You have my word on that," I said.

"In the larger box you'll find a helmet and some finger sensors you can attach to your virtual reality server."

"I don't know, that sounds a lot like a Polygraph. I hate those things."

Celly laughed. "No, this is not a polygraph at all, Slitlicker. You'll love this. Trust me." Then she went on, "The smaller box contains the software to run the program. If you have adequate computer power you will be able to not only hear, see, and feel what goes on in our world, but you will be able to project an incarnation of yourself right here into our front room. And, then you'll be free to roam around as you wish--but just be sure that you project yourself as a girl and not as a man, otherwise we'll have problems here."

"Oh, thank you so much, Celly. You have my promise on that. How much do I owe you for this?"

"Oh, nothing. It's on the house because we're friends--although a free Pizza now and then wouldn't hurt," she giggled.

"It's a deal!" I shook her hand, gave her one last hug, and turned to go.

She called out after me, "Once you're set up, just dial your virtual reality tuner to channel 69 and that'll beam you right over here to us."

Over the next few "days" I found myself a nice apartment in a nearby asteroid and using the proceeds from the Pizza business I purchased the most powerful computing technology the heavens could supply and hooked myself up to a couple of supernovas for power supply. Now, everyday after making my runs on the Pizza route, I return to my asteroid home, take off all my clothes and hook myself up to my virtual reality devices. I crank up the power, then concentrating real hard, and reaching down into my deepest, darkest fantasies, I assume the persona of an eighteen-year old girl. Then I dial up channel 69 and project this incarnation of myself into Celeste's Lesbian Heaven. Not only do I get to watch all the kinky goings on, but I get to participate in and enjoy 100% all of the Celestial and forbidden delights with Celeste's friends and subjects like any other eighteen-year old girl--and none of them are the wiser, with Celly and I sworn to secrecy on that account.

But, after all, aren't we all just disembodied spirits up here anyway?

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