The Book of Division Ch. 03bycauchemar80©
It seemed like Molly's alarm went off louder than usual. She opened her eyes and looked at the wall clock. 8:30. Half an hour until class. But she also felt incredibly tired as she rolled over. What had happened?
She'd dreamed about something... She remembered her head coming off. She remembered eating herself out. She remembered splitting herself in half. There was something else too. But it was all a dream.
"An interesting dream," she thought to herself. "Wouldn't mind having it again. It felt so real when I came, when I ate myself out. Don't really get that kind of service anymore."
She flopped over onto her stomach and waved her arm blindly at the nightstand, trying to hit the snooze button. She missed it once and hit the surface, but when she brought her hand down again, she hit something soft. At the same time, she felt like someone had kicked her in the groin.
Molly sat bolt upright, fully awake.
There, on the nightstand, lay her detached pussy. It was clearly hers; neatly trimmed, and evidently she could still feel it, but it was unattached and about three feet from its normal spot. Not as it should be.
She pulled out the waist of her pajama pants and tried to see her pussy. Worried, she glanced over at the fleshy oval on her nightstand. She couldn't see it looking down, so she felt around where she expected her pussy to be. Blank skin. Nothing.
"Stay calm, Molly," she told herself. "At least it's here. At least you've still got it."
She stood up and started pacing, running her hands through her hair. What the fuck had she gotten into last night?
Just then, she heard the front door opening and her roommate's upbeat voice.
"Come on in, Paul! Don't worry about your shoes, just leave 'em at the door! Here, lemme help!"
"I got 'em, Fran! Been getting them since I was five!"
"If you were smart," came the reply, "you'd have worn heels like me." There was a clatter, a shoe bouncing off the tile. "They just pop..." Another clatter. "...right off. Hey, you haven't met Molly yet, have you?"
Molly froze and looked, first at her pussy on her nightstand, and secondly at the door, which would burst open any second to spill an overeager Fran and a reluctant Paul into her room. Quickly, more roughly than she would've liked, she brushed her pussy into the drawer with her vibrator and felt it collapse on itself between the edge of the drawer and a box of batteries.
Fran nearly tore the door off its hinges. She stopped, surprised that Molly was still in her pajamas.
"Good morning, sleepyhead! Alarm didn't go off?"
"Nope," Molly said shortly. She waved weakly at Paul. "Hi. Listen, Fran, can I talk to you for just a second? Alone." Paul didn't need to be told twice. He smiled awkwardly and booked it to the living room as Fran shut the door behind him.
"Do you remember last night?"
"Do I? I'm surprised you don't; you're the one who lost your head."
Molly stopped at that remark, then dismissed it. "When I woke up this morning, my uh, my...pussy...was on the nightstand."
Fran laughed, a delighted squeaking laugh, and brought both of her hands in front of her mouth.
"You did it too? Makes everything easier, doesn't it?"
Molly hadn't expected that. "What the hell are you talking about? Yours comes off? Am I in fucking Legoland?"
"No, no – it's the book! The Book of Division. You probably just read a spell from it, the same one I did, about 'les genitaux.' You seriously don't remember catching me peeing this morning? I stuck mine to the bottom of the toilet so I wouldn't have to use those gnarley bar bathrooms. In fact," she reached into her pocket and moved her hand around. "That's better. Mine spent the whole morning folded in half. It was weird."
"Wait, that stuff wasn't a dream?" Molly sat on the bed for a second. "There's a book? Where? Can it reverse this?"
"Yeah, every spell's got a reversal. It goes back on, no problem. Where'd you put the book?"
Molly's blood ran cold. She hadn't even remembered that the book existed until Fran told her, much less where it was. "You don't know?"
"Nope," Fran said. "You had it last. Go to class; I'll look for it."
"Shit," Molly said. "Class is in 20 minutes. I can't miss the test in Intro to Hort. Fuck me."
"Can't," Fran laughed as Molly opened the drawer, took her pussy out and stomped past her to the bathroom to get ready.
Fifteen minutes later Molly waved goodbye to Fran and Paul and hopped onto her bike. The ride to campus was short and odd without her pussy in its proper place. She found that she could rest on the saddle much more comfortably without it between her legs, but she'd put it into her right pocket and found that every time she brought her foot up, it twisted slightly, pleasantly. By the time she locked her bike in the rack at the horticulture building, she was shuddering with every step.
The test came out of nowhere. Molly was pretty sure she'd bombed it. Not only had she not prepared at all, but having her genitals in her pocket proved far too distracting for her to concentrate. Whenever she put her hand on her thigh, whenever she bounced her leg out of nervousness, whenever she crossed or uncrossed her legs, she felt it on her pussy. By the time she was on the last few answers, she'd made up her mind to go back to the apartment and find the book.
Ten minutes later, she was coming in through the front door. For the return trip, she put her pussy into its own pocket; only when she hit a rough patch or went over a curb did she get any serious sensations.
"Paul, listen. You need to go find Molly." It was Fran. She sounded scared. "Don't come in. Just go get her. She's at Horticulture taking a test. Go! Can you not hear me?"
"Fran, it's me," Molly said. "Where's Paul?"
"Jesus!" said Fran's voice. "He's getting a pizza for lunch. Get in here, quick."
Molly took a step into Fran's room and stopped dead. Half on, half off her bed, and on the floor around her desk, was Fran. It looked like she'd come apart at the seams.
"I need to pull myself together, I know," said Fran's head. It was on the floor beside her left foot and her left arm. Molly picked it up and brushed the hair out of Fran's eyes.
"Is the desk okay?" she asked, pushing Fran's laptop out of the way and setting her head down there.
"Yeah, it's fine."
"How the fuck did this happen?" Molly asked.
"Well," Fran began, clearing her throat. Several of her parts across the room, including her chest on the floor – still clad in a t-shirt – and the upper sections of her arms on the bed, shuddered with the effort. "I opened to the page for putting every limb back on at once. It's page 140," she added, as Molly bent over to pick the book off the ground. "I wanted to be quick, so I figured I could just use that one, instead of flipping to the page about genitals. Apparently, La Bete has to separate everything first, before he can reattach it. Anyway, would you be my best friend in the whole world and stick all my bits back on? Except the obvious, of course," Fran said, grinning. "I can take care of that one."
Molly nodded and surveyed the room. "How many pieces are you in?"
Fran drew a deep breath, again causing several parts to move. "Well, let's see. Hands, forearms, upper arms, chest, stomach, hips, thighs, lower legs and feet. And head. And the other bit."
"That's not so bad," Molly said, reaching under the bed to grab Fran's left hand. It wiggled in her grasp.
"Hi," Fran said from the desk.
"Let's see. Which of these is your left forearm?" Molly held up two identical flesh-colored tubes. Fran closed her eyes, trying to conjure a mental map of her body.
"The one on my right," she said. Molly laid her hand on the bed along with her forearm and put the other one on the opposite side, along with her right hand.
"Alright, which of your upper arms is which here?" she asked Fran, turning around with another pair of slightly thicker cylinders, again flesh-colored.
Fran laughed. "Those are my thighs. And the one in your left hand is my left one."
Molly found her roommate's hips on the ground just beside the bed. Her chest, however, had rolled over to the desk chair. She grabbed it by the t-shirt, but Fran stopped her.
"Be careful with that," she said. "Don't bump it around too much; I'm pretty sure my uh...my girls detached themselves too."
Molly cradled Fran's chest section on its back and laid it gently on the bed between her arms and hips.
"You're still missing your stomach. Where the fuck did you put it?"
Suddenly they heard the sound of the front door opening. Molly shut the door softly and looked back to Fran's head on the desk, her face white.
"Fran?" Paul called. "I got the pizza."
"Fuck!" Fran hissed. "He got the pizza." Then she yelled to Paul, "Is it pepperoni?"
"Yeah, Fran, just like you wanted."
Molly flicked her roommate's detached head. "Focus, Fran, what do we do?"
"Paul!" Fran screeched abruptly. "Go get Molly!"
His footsteps headed down the hallway towards toward her room.
"For God's sake," Molly whispered. Thinking quickly, she slid the chain into the door and rushed back to grab Fran's head and left arm. She hurried back over to the door, ready for it to open.
The knob turned slowly, and Paul peeked in through the crack. Molly poked Fran's head out from the other side of the door to peer at him.
"Are you ok, Frannie? Did you hurt yourself?"
Molly stuck Fran's arm through the crack in the door and slapped Paul with it.
"Nobody calls me Frannie," Fran said. "At least, not until the third date. Just go get Molly, will you? It's a girl problem."
Paul sighed heavily. "Alright. Where's she at?"
"Taking a test in Horticulture. She's going to the Bio building after that, if she's not in Hort when you get there. Now GO!"
Molly slammed the door shut and listened as Paul's footsteps receded and the front door shut. Then she turned Fran's head to face her.
"That was close," Molly said. "But you got him out of here for a while. Where were we? Oh, right. I literally cannot find your right foot. Can you feel where it's at?"
Fran scrunched up her face, thinking. Suddenly the lamp on her desk fell to the floor.
"Sorry," she said, "I was wiggling my toes. I thought we might see them. But they caught the cord."
"It's ok," Molly said, leaning over the desk and picking up the foot, which wiggled its toes happily. "It's your lamp, anyway."
"Oh, wait," said Fran's head. "Can you bring that over here? I want to lick it."
"Come on, Fran, you can have all the fun with yourself you want when you're alone."
"No, just one lick. I bet Paul five bucks I could do it. Over breakfast he told me I was as flexible as an ash tree."
Molly sighed and brought Fran's detached foot over to her face. She stuck her tongue out and traced it along her sole. Her foot arched with either pleasure or ticklishness, and Fran gave a laugh.
"You're my witness. You saw it happen."
"Yup." Molly placed her foot and its sister on the bed, then turned back to Fran. "So I've got four limbs and have no clue which one is which," she said, laying four almost identical fleshy tubes on the seat of the computer chair.
"The fleshier ones are my upper arms," Fran said. "Touch them."
She poked one.
"That's my left one, so the other's my right." Molly put them in their respective places on the bed.
"That makes these your shins, right?" Fran's head toppled over and rolled onto its side.
"Sorry," she said as Molly righted her. "I was trying to nod. Yes, those are my lower legs. The one on the left is my right."
"Alright, that's it," Molly said. "Except your stomach. Where's that?"
"I have no idea. Wait, listen."
Molly stopped and listened with Fran. There was a growling from under the bed. It was Fran's stomach.
"God, I'm so fat," she said as her roommate brought it past her view. "And hungry. Luckily hungry, or we might've been looking for that for a while."
"You think you're fat?" Molly said, stopping. She turned the stomach over in her hands. There was a slight pudge that stuck out over the edge of the cut, where flesh capped Fran's division. She looked down at her own stomach. "It's no more than mine."
"Yeah, well, you can't see yourself as good as I can. Just put me back together, will you?"
"Sure, sure," Molly said, gathering Fran's head up in her hands along with her stomach.
"Don't think putting me closer to my gut will make me accept it," came Fran's voice, muffled against her stomach.
A few minutes later, Fran lay divided on her bed and Molly sat next to her with the book in hand.
"It's just this one, here, right? The one on page 140?"
"Yeah," Fran replied. "It should say 'Toutes des parties de mon corps' or something like that."
"Yup, this is it. All your 'parties de corps' are touching, correct?"
"Yep. You ready to get this ball rolling, captain Molly?"
Vous, bete, allez-y Et apportez mes parties.
Fran sat up. Immediately her hands snapped to her chest.
"We forgot those, didn't we?" said Molly.
"Don't worry," Fran said, grabbing her pillowcase and lifting her shirt, letting her detached breasts roll into it. "I saw a spell for breasts specifically. I'll put them back on myself." She leaned forward and threw her arms around Molly.
"Thank you. I would've been up Shit Creek without a paddle if you weren't here."
"You're welcome," Molly said. She paused, then, "This is really weird when you've got no tits."
"I've still got them, they're right here," Fran said, lifting the pillowcase to eye level. Two tiny nubs stuck out from the lumps at the bottom. She stood and headed to the bathroom, tucking the Book of Division under her arm.
"I'll be right back and you can use it."
Molly nodded and headed to her own room. She collapsed on her bed and threw her backpack onto the floor. A ringing pain shot through her crotch and she rolled onto the floor, crawling to the backpack and the pouch containing her pussy. She pulled it out and turned it over in her hand.
It was just an oval of flesh, with her vulva on one side and skin on the other. She plunged a finger inside experimentally and flipped herself over. Not even a bump appeared on the other side. Molly put her other hand to her stomach and felt, faintly, a pushing from inside herself – her other finger pushing from inside her pussy.
She looked out her door to the bathroom. The whole apartment was silent. She wondered if Fran was having a moment to herself in there. Probably. Now that she knew for sure that division was possible and reversible, now that she'd just helped her roommate reassemble her body, now that she was alone and holding her own detached pussy in her hand, she was a little more open to the whole thing.
Molly started playing absently with her pussy. She spread her lips and looked inside, much like she imagined a doctor would do. She pulled her lips back and touched them together behind her pussy – an impossible maneuver, but unfortunately one that didn't give her any intense feelings. She pulled on it and was surprised to watch it stretch about one-and-a-half times its size. She twisted it, so that her clit faced one direction and her vagina the other. And then, she had an idea.
She rummaged through her nightstand drawer for a second and withdrew her bottle of lube. She put a single drop on her lips and then folded her pussy in half, bringing her clit to her entrance and rubbing the lube between them.
The feeling was incredible. Molly would've joked about her pussy being a taco if she weren't biting her lip in pleasure. She ground herself from side to side, so that her clit swiped each of her lips and then reversed direction, hitting them again.
Then, she got an idea. An idea that made her open her eyes and looked down at the pussy in her hands. Was it even possible? It had stretched. She bet it was.
Holding her pussy in one hand, Molly folded it in half and pushed the end with her clit into her vagina. It raked against her wall until it hit her G-spot, and she nearly screamed. Her clit was by now completely erect, stuck out proudly from her hood, and her walls were ready and swollen. She scraped it slowly, back and forth against the rough patch that was her G-spot. Her legs buckled even though she wasn't standing up. Sweat beads formed on her forehead. Her nipples grew hard. Her toes curled and her fingers twitched.
Jesus, my pussy came off. I'm rubbing my clit against my spot and holding my cunt in my hand. I'm holding my fucking cunt in my hand. Sweet God, I'm coming.
Her eyes rolled back, and Molly launched across the cosmos in the most intense orgasm she'd ever felt. She shook, seizure-like, and dropped her pussy, which promptly unfolded itself and lay, lips up, contracting on the carpet. As she spasmed in ultimate pleasure, she heard the squelching sound of her entire pussy squeezing around itself, milking its own orgasm. Around it, her juices grew on the carpet. She twitched a final time, and then lay still, breathing heavily, basking in the afterglow, her mind not yet caught up with her body.
"Holy fuck," she whispered, pulling herself onto her desk chair. She felt the pang of a much-needed post-orgasm piss and looked out the door to the bathroom. The apartment was as still as it had been before.
Still feeling aftershocks, she rummaged in a desk drawer and pulled out a plastic bowl and a lid.
"I really didn't want to do this," she said to herself, dropping her pussy into it. It landed, lips down, against the side of the bowl. She closed the lid and let loose.
As she went, she looked down. She was still fully dressed, and hadn't even taken off her shoes. Molly looked back to the bowl. It was odd, hearing the unmistakable sound of someone using the bathroom coming from a container that couldn't possibly house a whole person. She shrugged as she finished and headed for the kitchen with the bowl in tow.
Maybe, she thought, as she rinsed off her detached pussy, maybe the Book of Division wasn't so bad after all.