Cockerelles & Posies Pt. 03

"The first one, silly. Josie mentioned there was a way I could surrender my ability to backpedal. And I just want to ensure you in every way that there will be no threat to the prestige you have gained from my gift to you."

"Let's not talk politics and posy rights now," she says. "Haven't you tired of all that pointless idealism?"

"Of course, I have. Now, let's put the last nail in the coffin," I croon. "I'll sleep better after I know your sleep is just as pleasant as mine."

I drag the specifics of my request out of Becka through fits of puppy dog eyes and that look children give when they show you they've mashed their thumb.

A touch of her seed placed on my posy with my kindred's finger is all it requires to break the spell which threatens her prize genitalia.

"And of course, I'll want to measure these phenomena too with my scientific instruments for the sake of posterity. The higher sciences require that we both be willing during the event if it is to take its effect. My colleagues will be stunned when I present these readings to them."

"Stunned?"

"Yes. That my anonymous subject has gone to such lengths to ensure not only that I keep my root but that she be forever marooned with her new posy. This will ensure me the promotion I desire at the Ambergale Institute. All of the latest equipment I will have at my disposal. It's making me feel lightheaded just considering it."

With great joy in my heart I maintain my insistence she go through with it when she warns me a final time that the piece of me I've given her can never be recovered afterward.

I use my own hand to force her decision, protecting her from guilt should doubts return to haunt her in the future.

#15

Convincing Maddie to accept my full surrender requires neither puppy dog eyes nor smashed-thumb looks to see it through. Her feelings on the matter are a moot thing I discover.

"I had to schedule a convenient time," she says, which is underscored by the load of new projects she's been asked to take part in since she was able to prove to her now-equals that she is no longer restrained by any flower.

I see the cockerelle pendant on her throat and am mesmerized by its design. There is nothing ordinary about it just as Becka's was stunning in comparison to the things the machines usually pop out at the hospitals.

The ID card on Maddie's jacket carries the acronym of her very recent promotion. My seed has put a title there which indicates she is now Head of Design in place of what used to be a generic security badge issued to interns.

I uncover myself to sit on one of the tall stools in her new office where she's been installed near the top floor. It's one of the taller buildings located within the heart of the city. Thinking there will be meaningful words exchanged to mark the occasion, we are cut short by a ring of the phone on her desk which she finds important to take. I then learn she has the necessary seed set aside already in a sealed container in her jeans pocket. Distracted by her conversation on the phone, she shifts just enough focus to plunge her index finger into the container and touch my posy before I'm able to make the hop to the top of my tall chair. Then we're waving goodbye as there are clients coming into the room moments later to take part in a scheduled meeting.

Days later, with Mother it is all the same, as she is getting into bed exhausted from another long night outing with her new posy friends when I catch up with her finally. I manage to close the issue with her mere seconds after our conversation starts as she is crashing for another day of intense bed rest. She sees no need to relight her new candle to extract the wax necessary to create the seal even the highest courts in Heartseed could never remove.

"There, Mommy's done it," she says sneaking a drop of her last fling's leftovers from where it still oozes under her panties on a finger and up my skirt to the target.

When I make it back to Josie, who's been too busy for weeks redecorating every detail of the vast wing she occupies, my mood has changed a lot from what it was after my first day of Fission.

"Have you even taken your new blossom into the sunlight yet to test it out?" she asks.

"I would if it weren't for gossip," I reply. "My sisters and mother all become cockerelles on the same day, and I'm announcing my posy to the busybodies right in the midst of your celebration."

A solemn nod tells me Sis appreciates my wish to dodge such suspicions.

"You're still a virgin then?" is how she exposes the next discovery in my list of frustrations.

"It's new," I say. "Having it has sent me on a journey retracing the many reasons I came to my epiphany."

A slight twist of her lips implies I haven't fully completed the homework assignment we'd agreed to.

"A hundred years of celibacy won't guarantee that you'll arrive fully satisfied at the end of a century."

"It's not a question of that kind of carnal gratification. That I generally love the many detours I take along my sensual journeys far more than I do the climax tells me I've made a perfect decision. My concern lays solely on our reputations."

"You're the last out of the gate in our race, aren't you? I'm sorry. It's easy to forgive them for their greediness though. It's all unintended. They don't share my experience in this coming of age kind of matter. Well, by experience I mean only in terms of the embarrassment one risks when attempting to change their sex the way I did. This is why I have been so careful with you, my love."

Her hands cup the bulging bosoms that pay testament to her exact meaning.

"Enlarging these was completely unnecessary."

"Curse these dreadful moles who snare our feet with misleading rules they tunnel beneath our paths," I whisper.

Josie appreciates my frustration with a sympathetic giggle.

She leads me into a sanctuary she has secretly prepared in the course of her fervent renovations. I'm made speechless by the revelation of her mutual opinion about the gravity that weighs so heavily on my heart's decision. She's carefully erected a monument in my honor judging by its stark color scheme. It's a beauty mark raised in perfect contrast to the harmony she's created in all the other areas of her living quarters.

"If you put this in my wardrobe I think I could wear it," are the words that erupt with a happy sigh from my heart.

"I see it as an altar that pays homage to your sincerity, lest either of us forget the day and time of your complete commitment to the legacy I intend to build in thanking you."

I revel seeing the luxurious pedestal containing soft pillows on which to sit and bearing the look of a terracotta flowerpot that cannot be missed. High spindles spaced around its perimeter gives the impression of a bird cage rising to the ceiling. These rods support a tent-like roof one would expect on the beach chair of a fairy sultan if such a monarch ever existed.

"I will keep it with me always," she promises, turning to reveal praying hands that remind me of a child pleading with her mother to allow a stray puppy into their home.

The gesture touches me in a way that exceeds my deep need for remembrance of this last hint of my former being I wish to entrust with her.

Still there is one more splinter to be pulled. The matter of continuing with my chastity until I find the right time to present my own transformation to the world.

"I would like to wait some time before coming out with my news," I say.

"Take all the time you like," she replies.

"But I would like it if I could, as you say, avoid a century of waiting to know for certain. Only for my curiosity, of course, as I have no doubt I will find it all lovely when I cross that threshold."

"It borders on perfunctory in our society," says Josie sounding as though she's presenting the obvious solution to a question before I even ask it.

"Yes, routine," I say, following her thread. "Yes, like pulling my root. It's not something glamorous to experience. Needs the right atmosphere of personalities and circumstance to make it memorable and cherished. It will take some consideration on my part to avoid my first experience being something ordinary I see when I look back on my memory of it."

"It would be silly of me to leave you starving while the rest of us are having our fill at the banquet. I should go as far to say rude of me. As if you should think less of yourself for what amounts to trying on a dress in the privacy of a changing room."

And it's as if she's read my mind, putting into words an answer to the waiting I was bound to endure.

"Are you proposing what I think you are proposing?"

"As long as we keep in mind that it is a common act which we can make special between us with the right approach. Let me show you if you are interested."

I am.

She leads me over to sit in that pillowed place she's prepared for me. While I watch looking up at her from my cozy spot, she floats about like a hummingbird feeding on every blossom 'round a flowery shrub. The flame she carries at the end of a long, thin stick ignites wicks who's heat carry the scents of aromatic wax candles through the air to my nose. These fragrant torches become the lights in a fairy forest aroused in my imagination.

Still I have not yet arrived at her state of clarity. It is only after she removes her dressing gown that I begin to appreciate the dauntless nature of her suggestion.

"I'll show no lack of generosity if our minds have come to meet on the significance of this moment," she says. "I live my life pursuing memories which gather pleasant reminders for the scrapbooks of my heart."

My heart agrees with her statement with such complete conviction that all my fears flee upon hearing the beats of its thumping gavel.

My hand goes to the spot where my posy hides beneath the soft fabric of my skirt.

"This would make it a day to remember," I say, touching the spot on my bloom which delights the nerves it represents.

"We'll keep this between us," she assures me.

"All the more special," I say.

Her outer garment comes off in her hands while mine remove my skirt.

I look up in relief after feeling a sudden tinge in my belly that I might have mistaken her intentions.

I find Josie's root cocooned on her belly beneath the sheer fabric that composes the midsection of her underclothes.

"Your root came in with quite the presence," I say. My amazement at its shape is entangled in my satisfaction at the thoughtfulness she invested in selecting her raiment's for our special moment.

She moves closer and says in a low voice, "I would have trimmed up my curves with charms, but I was saving myself for this event should it occur."

"You made my heart bleed just then," I say, pressing a hand to my chest. "I'm sure I'll cry if you add one more drop of sweet significance to this present you've saved for me."

"Stop now," she quips, "Too much enchantment and our magic begins to smack of incest."

I try to unburden her concerns of any unwanted taboos.

"Asking how much this will hurt my first time should draw our spirits towards imagery of the daily grind, shouldn't it?"

"Oh, yes, though pain is a part of pleasure," she confides, "it can protect the heart from love's bewitchment too if you use it properly."

"I will take all such precautions to keep this from becoming our lovemaking," I promise. "I will cherish it as I cherish the time you taught me to ride my bicycle with such tender care and attention."

Josie has come prepared, and her root is positioned to dive looking something like a well-fed sea otter on its belly.

I lean back on my hands, making certain not to lean too far and miss the view as she sends her root in to begin our exploration.

My tummy pangs pleasantly when I recognize the character of my heritage expressed exactly the same in the shape and color of her stiff timber. It acts as an assurance that it is in fact my own root in spirit as well as in form that will take me on my virgin cruise into the sensual world of my new posy.

"First planting for the both of us," we say together at her insistence.

"May this union mark the beginning of a new era in our relationship," she adds, taking my hands in hers.

I relax.

She stands like a soldier, head down in prayer, and I am cleaved through in one gentle stroke that buries her weapon to the hilt. Luckily, girls of Heartseed are born with bodies like bomb shelters, evolved to withstand barrages of the most passionate libidos. Otherwise the unleashing of Josie's years of pent up anticipation might have broken me on her first sortie in the pilot's seat.

My life flashes before my eyes as the abyss rises to engulf me under the heavy salvo which sends me to my early grave. But then I see that bright light in the distance which guides the way to my salvation, and my destruction becomes a blessing of heavenly ecstasy. I rise with Josie into my new kingdom as her seed spills into my body, ensuring forever our accord.

!!More To Come in ACT 2!!