CAPTCHA Island Ch. 02

My phone fell down somewhere.

We all look at her, monitoring the eventual tense collapse betraying the secret debacle of her loins. I pray it happens before mine.

The twins hold me closer. So much skin feels like making love. I think. No, I can't think, I'm punched in the clit over and over.

I beg them to stop, I beg them. It feels so horribly good. I don't want to cum. I don't want them to see how much I like to cum.

From a long rasp inside mom's throat I visualize the fists molding her vagina into the immense form of our shared orgasm. I wanna beg them not to make us cum at the same time. But I don't want mom to know I'm going to cum at the same time.

From the rasp to a moan my lower body starts twitching. That's it. The embrace of Lucy, Mara, welcomes my giving out and every gush spurting onto our feet.

"You're a squirter! That's kinky!"

"Do you think your mother can do it too?"

I don't know, only the island can tell, she's cumming inside of it.

"Tell them to stop!" I whimper, thinking the opposite. The word stop echoes from mom, with the same voice, the same squirming cunt. But we can't, not until we're both done.

Slowly, the fire goes back to life as the punching dies out and we can see again.

We can hear too: the music, fading back in, has taken a grave tone, almost sad. A lingering melody of a few notes and, far from muffled by it, the cries of my mother.

Let me guess: we came for two full minutes.

Neitocris squats above her and literally uproots her with her bare hands, gently lays her down on the ground, caresses her hair, checks if everything went right.

I retrieve my phone.

"Are you ok? Mom?" I whisper, dulled.

She manages to mumble "H... hH...yeah... I'm o—I'm okay, I'm..." writhing, her weak hands trying to scrape off the damp earth still on her, like for bugs crawling on you but you're asleep.

Two of the three letters on her stomach have disappeared. Now they only say one or us.

Her vagina appears to be normal, protected by its patch of pubes. I couldn't help but zoom in on it.

Neitocris tells me to move aside. I step back into the arms of Mara and Lucy.

We watch Lauren pass out.

"She'll be out for some time. You should go get your equipment on the beach. It's daytime again."

9:56 PM. No way.

"No way I'm leaving her here for six hours."

"Time doesn't exist."

"Stop your bullshit! Why doesn't she have a penis?"

"Because it takes time."

"You're not making any sense!"

"I don't care."

"And what the fuck happened anyway? why did I have an orgasm?"

"You seemed to like it..."

And now, after her words denied the concept of time, her hands defy the concept of space: Coming from nowhere, she pops off an enormous bottle of champagne, the kind that costs twenty grand, not counting tip.

Dozens of corks pop around. They put an overflowing glass in my hand.

I'm tempted to chug it down when they start playing Kool & the Gang.

*****

Ana is walking ahead of us.

It's Tassia who applied the cast on her wrist. Turns out she was a nurse, before being a sex surrogate, before moving to L.A. and make in a week what her parents make in a year.

We're on our way back to the motorboat to get my equipment. It's daytime and doesn't feel 11 PM at all. I don't feel tired, don't feel like I've been excruciatingly horny for almost ten hours with two orgasms thrown in without a difference, don't feel like my life has changed to depths I'll still have to comprehend.

A dozen futa brings up the rear. They're too far behind to hear our conversation.

It was arduous but I opposed my apprehension and all of Tassia's sarcasms with a barrage of questions and answers about each other's background and it eventually paid off. Okumaru is for the naked truth.

"So she doesn't know you're a sexologist?"

"She knows I'm an MD with a bachelor's in biochemistry but I never let her read my thesis. It's not like she asked anyway."

"What's it about?"

"Models of Diffusion and L-shaped Responses during Sexual Prostate Stimulation."

"Wow dat's some crazy shit... so like you fucked a bunch of men in the ass for science?"

"Not exactly but yeah."

"I've never done bisexual scenes. They pay shit."

"I know. I mean I know you haven't done any."

"I bet it freaks out all your boyfriends."

I nod clumsily.

"What's that nod mean? Come on, how long you wait before you show them your fuckin strap-on?"

"I..."

"What?"

I could give her the usual answer. I made up a pretty elaborate timeline of my life for questions like these. But do I really wanna lie to her? Nothing stays hidden long here. There's enough distrust in her eyes as it is.

"I never had a boyfriend..."

"You're a lesb—"

"...or a girlfriend."

"Oh shit!" She cracks up. "Don't tell me..."

"I'm a virgin."

She laughs some more, not with a certain kindness. Ana has turned around, eyebrow raised.

"You fingerbanged the creepy twin girl though. I think it counts."

"You saw us?"

"Of course. It was very revealing..."

"I was too shy in high school, I was too busy in prep school—and too young, I was only 15—and then...I guess it wasn't really a priority. I never found the time, I never met the right person. And after a while it became a study in itself."

"You study being an incel?"

"Watch it!"

She wheels around just in time to dodge a root in the soil.

Ana has slowed down to listen to the novelty that is my life.

"Alright so you come out of high school a virgin, I can understand—not even second base?"

"No."

"First?"

"Of course first base, I wasn't this..."

you fucking piece of shit

"Yea anyways. So you bury yourself in work in university, I can understand too. But then during breaks?"

"Studied more. Not a lot of coupling at the library."

"What about the professors?"

"Gross!"

"And your test subjects? the ones you pegged."

"I have a work ethic! Too awkward anyway."

"Ok, but then you graduate, what happens then?"

"I was 28 at the end of my fellowship. I work easily a hundred hours a week. I have an apartment at the SS-P labs. I don't go out. I don't see my friends much..."

"Christ..." Ana sighs.

"I don't believe you. I mean you're a girl, you're pretty... doesn't make sense..."

"Why would I lie?"

"Forget it. So tell us about your vibrator, is he your best friend?"

"Heh..."

"Fuck me, you must flick it all the time!"

"Last year I came 2646 times."

Now they both laugh out loud, but it's an impressed laugh. I can tell they're calculating mentally. Don't expect them to be bright enough.

"Like, you count them?"

"I study them."

"Oh get real hon, you're totally addicted to porn. Hey if we get off this shithole, you take like a sabbatical and you find you a nice guy and you get dicked out properly! Or scissored! Oh fuck it's the best! the orgasm is shit and your hips get sore but oh shit, feeling a clit on your clit it's just...ggggh!"

There's a glint in Ana's eyes. She has done a few scenes of tribadism. I masturbated to them.

"The problem with sex studies is people lie," I explain myself. "I test on myself. I have all the equipment at hand." (they chortle at the possible pun) "This way I know exactly the "truth"."

"And look where your truth got you: you fuckin filmed your mom turn to a monster."

They keep cracking up loudly.

"All this for what?" she goes on. "Uh? Tell me! Where did all this fuckin shit got you?"

The laughs were never kind. Never impressed. Were they? Why did I tell them about me? I'm not an exhibitionist. And I sure don't get off to humiliation. Even here.

Tassia stops her walk, scrutinizing my face. "I know that look. It's the fuckin look I get from "fans" when I turn them down."

And I know that laugh, it's the laugh I got all through high school.

"I'm not like that," I retort.

"I guess, yeah. You're just a nerd. But I don't wanna call you that cause I don't want you to call me a whore. Now you stop playing friends with me. It's over. I thought you were a professional or you were in control or I don't know, but you're just pathetic, like your life. Go to your two weirdos if you want to fuck, alright? Cook them some Viagra with your little chemistry playset, you know for kids, d'you bring one with you?"

I just stare at her. And then don't. I'll always be surprised by the steep rapidity of the slip from attraction to contempt. I hate her so brightly right now. This I'm not surprised.

I wonder after how many failed relationships one starts to get hardened to it and the slip from hate to indifference gets as short a process.

Anyway, I have a wounded ego and I could glimpse a naked truth of mine inside the wound. So right now I'll just hate her, just to hide it from them.

Until Ana mumbles something softly to me, trying to be less spiteful than her colleague: "You don't get a crush on a sex worker, Дурак. You know, I read George Orwell and he said when he was a booksel—"

"I DON'T FUCKING CARE!!!"

Here it was.

Now I just hate myself.

Imperceptibly, we get back to our old configuration: Ana thirty yards ahead and Tassia and I walking side by side.

"Fuckin' nerd!" we hear faintly from one of the futa behind us.

*****

Whereas it should be 5 AM and we should be exhausted, we're back at the grotto with my equipment, perfectly fine after the six-hour walk.

Fine physically at least, but I hardly have the time to think about all the things a Xanax would do to me: the first thing I see arrived at the bottom of the slope is the futanari gathered in that same damn circle. I know Lauren's in the middle of it. No bonfire, no hole, just her. I knew I shouldn't have left her with them.

"Mom! Get away from her! MOOOOOOM!" I run until I bounce off the swarm. It's a tangle of torsos and limbs that doesn't care for letting me in but I thrash my way through rough enough that I get caught in. The spinning trampling web lets me glimpse Lucy in it. I glimpse Mara. I glimpse Pepascht, Rhea, Thméi, nameless faces, faces forgotten, faces who don't mind and faces who never stopped staring. And there's Neitocris. She lied to me. The ritual was another trick and the real one happened while I was gone. They changed mom, they took her from me.

"You didn't even let me say goodbye!" I throw aimlessly, hoping it will hit the queen.

Instead the whole of the attention (that includes mine) stays on this thing far away at the center, sticking out from a crotch, and on the hands and mouths and screams I thought I would never hear, the screams of someone who's been climaxing for so long so intensely she can do nothing about it anymore. My mother.

I fight to stabilize, to go against the current, and I realize I'm in the arms of the twins and burst out crying.

"What are they doing to her?"

"She's one of us now. Don't be scared, Ms. Bremner."

"What are they doing to her?"

"She's cumming. She's fine. They're activating her balls, they have to make her cum til she ejaculates something. We've been at it for an hour now."

I sob in their necks. "It's me who should be in her place! It's me!"

"Oh! you eager slut!"

"THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT!!"

"She's ok. You don't have to help her. You know... we miss our mother too, Sydney. And it makes us love you very much."

"You don't love, you're monsters!"

"You came here for monsters, that's what you get."

I've no idea who said this.

The mess seems to increase and their hug tightens into a comfort I delay accepting. They caress my hair. They drink my tears. I only slow down.

One of them gives me my first kiss. The other my second. I still don't respond at the third, both their mouths at the same time. I still need to push my way to the front, to be at the center, save mom. But they go with more skin, more mouth, they cover my ears so I can't listen to what mom took from me because she loves me, because she was stronger, and the others further flow their torsos and their limbs against my balance.

Near the end of my struggle, when I find myself only as slow as the wheeling of the circle itself and the strength of the twins keeps me standing, something strikes me. I'm overtaken by a revelation of a half second I store away in even less because it's the fiery middle of the worst fucking moment. The contact of Lucy and Mara, their naked skin, so much of it, the side of their breasts, their hips, thighs, toes, the life in their hands, have suddenly made it so very clear why human beings say making love.

It's just a few square inches of epidermis and I don't even like these girls, but it's my first time and I could foresee everything else from it. The tranquility. The unexpected lack of vulgar intensity. The unnecessity of words that I missed out all these years, too busy apprehending sex from another side, breaking it down differently, thinking I could bring a new light. It's so different from a clothed hug. Though I didn't get much of those either in my life. I get it now. My skin doesn't shrink from it, our warmths rest on one another, out of time, out of cleanliness, out of pages and pages scratched for no one but myself. It's this simple.

What's intense, what's burning, is somewhere else, in my straining legs:

Praying they both will forgive me for that, lifting myself on their unbreakable bodies, putting all my energy of despair into it plus a heel in their teeth, I leap over the mass, step on them, feet on skulls, knees on necks, I roll, hopscotch, rip their fingers from me, brawl forward and when I can I fall down into the empty center, right next to the cumming shape, within a thousand eyes that couldn't see it coming.

"Let me talk to her," I beg, getting back up.

Neitocris sighs. "Fine. Nephthys, take a breather!"

The futanari who was sucking off the body of my mother lying on the ground steps away. And the latter, her on the ground, her that I can see completely now, her she shouts "Wait I was about toAAAAAAnh—" as she strokes her absurd penis to a dry orgasm that I have to watch and hear.

The hand of Mara How do I know it's her? gets between my legs and wipes the grool off the folds of my oversaturated pussy.

"You were so wet. Now you're a little more decent to meet with your new mom."

Her middle finger penetrates me.

"It's the first time I touch a vagina."

First time I have mine touched.

But we hear "Hey Sydney, you brought your camera with you?"

The mom was finished cumming and saw me.

I escape the finger and take the last steps alone. Silence follows with me.

"Mom, are you all right?"

"I feel so good... you cannot imagine... Are the two idiots with you? I want them to suck me."

"Mom!" I hold up her head, force her to look me in the eye.

Her pupils are far away. Whatever hormones futanari produce when they climax, she's blind drunk on the stuff.

"Mom, what did they do to you?"

"They make me cum! It's so good! I don't want it to end, ever!"

"Listen to yourself! You're going insane! You promised you wouldn't... you promised me... mom..."

"Yes...It's like... like I'm going insane, but the insane part is fading away..."

Then what's left?

She rolls to her back, erection prancing. "We're gonna rule the world you and I."

Lucy has crouched by my side, a hand on my shoulder, the other ready to reach for the only hard cock on the island. It's as huge as a forearm, so engorged it looks muscular. It's their god now.

"More pleasure, Lauren?" she asks.

"Please!"

She grabs it and I shrug her hand off me.

"TASSIAAA!!" I hurl.

"The fuck you want?"

"Get my gear! You're filming! Let's get this over with!"

I turn back and the mass of futa parts into a guard of honor for me. As I'll walk through it, there will be loud moans behind me and I won't look back; there will be grins around me and I won't look up.

Except Mara gets in the way.

"Excuse my sister, she—" I slap her hand away from my chest.

Enough with the tears. I walk.

"You know, Lucy and I we wanna make love with you. Even if we can't get hard."

Lucy sneaked up from behind me. "Will you teach us how to make love with you?"

A commotion behind us, raised voices.

We spin around to behold, in the firelight, Lauren's first ejaculation. Her seed surges straight up ten feet into the air in huge jets, which she squeezes out with the help of Nephthys' hand, endlessly.

The futanari are like at the fireworks.

I remember how I was scared of them when I was little.

What the f...

Why can't I ever stop thinking?

Why am I like this? Why do I just stand looking at Nephthys massaging mom's emptying balls, leaning closer like she's about to take her cockhead into her mouth? Mom's quivering and gasping, already brought to a second ejaculation, even more profuse, overlapping the other. And I can't help looking, analyzing, comparing.

Why can't I never just turn off?

If I could just erase from my brain the connections I make straightaway with the people I've seen cumming this deeply before; in a moment like this why should I be so routinely reminded that in those gay or lesbian videos they sell in those artsy-fartsy sex-shops in New York, I've seen them, orgasms induced by hours of torture and denial and drugs, poppers and whatnot, mad fits just like mom is having right before me?

If I ignored it, I wouldn't be here today. And I think it's what I want the most right now?

If I couldn't notice how significantly mom is bucking her hips, I wouldn't be here today. But I noticed. It's the same way I buck mine sometimes when I squirt. And I can think about it in a flash because I already thought about it, thoroughly. It's how my cursed brain works. I think these sharp sensuous movements are not an effort to get rid of something bad, but to squeeze myself dry and fill the world around, to affirm my orgasm to it, to arm, to color my woman-cum of the most of my deep self possible and then reveal it. The hardest I push, the deepest comes out. I don't empty myself, I fill, I pervade, I offer.

When you think about it (and I wouldn't be here if I hadn't), people, parents, friends, enemies, from infancy to old age, see all your bodily fluids, I won't make a list. But sperm (or woman-cum for that matter) is not one of them. This one has too much meaning. They could love you or hate you they should never see it. Only lovers see this sole and unique physical manifestation of your...pleasure — love — surrender... call it what suits you.

That's why cum is so prevalent in porn, that's why we like to ejaculate on the things we lust after, that's why I dream of taking cum on me, on my face, my feet, the palm of my hands, in my holes, anywhere really...

So I—my brain—instantly spotted that mom is giving us this, a little visibility to her soul, despite the mind-bending pleasure rushing all through herself at this instant, she somehow stayed attentive enough to wring out her beautiful cum as nudely as she can for us, and because of these hours lost of mine, these writing downs and this verbose ever-thinking, I'm just standing there, watching, analyzing, comparing, snatched. And also getting horny.

Tassia arrives with the camera. She gives me the look, to which I respond: "That's what we paid you for."

We install a tripod and some lights around mom who's basking on the ground, covered in her own semen.

"It tastes delicious! I didn't know cum could taste like that!" she says while I put electrodes on her. "Do you want some?"

"No."

I won't get distracted.

it's Lucy and Mara I want to taste