Fuck Talk Too

"No no, you don't understand: this is serious. I've woken up this morning... with a cunt. What do I do?"

Grusha could hear Violet take a sharp intake of breath, before replying: "Oh my God, Grusha, really?! And I've just woken up with a cock!"

"What?!" exclaimed Grusha. "How the fuck?"

"Yeah," continued Violet. "And it's like, eight inches long, and I stroked it, and it got all hard. And then I jerked it, and I came all over my own face and tits. So fucking hot! And guess what, I've still got a cunt -- so I'm like a real futa!"

"Well, I wasn't going to say," said Grusha sheepishly. "But yeah, I schlicked myself off too -- at least, I presume I came: it was kinda different from what I'm used to, but it was fucking amazing! And I love the taste!"

"But hang on," interrupted Violet, "If you've got a cunt and no cock, what about the rest of you? Are you, like, female? Or just a guy with no dick?"

"Well, I've definitely got tits -- nice ones, too! And not much hair about, except my pubes, and my armpits. So I guess I'm..."

"A girl!" squealed Violet in delight. "Motherfuck, Grusha's a girl! Fuck yeah!"

"What are you so pleased about?" asked Grusha, who didn't share Violet's unbridled enthusiasm for the turn of events. "I know you always wanted to be a futa -- but I never wanted to be female. I like my cock!"

"Yeah OK," replied Violet. "But don't you realise? I'm a lesbian, dickhead!"

"Yeah I know you're a lesbian --'dickhead'! So what?"

"You are so stupid, Grusha. I'm a lesbian. I like fucking girls. And you're a girl now!"

Grusha was having trouble assimilating the full implications of all this. "Soooo..." He paused, waiting for Violet to spell it out.

Violet did: "So... Wanna fuck?"

Grusha paused. This was too much for him to take in, and he hardly knew what to say.

Violet's voice came down the phone line again: "Grush, you there?"

"Uh, yeah, I... This is kinda weird, Vi," he fumbled. "I mean, I've always wanted to fuck you -- but you're a lez, so I guess I got used to the fact that I never would. And even then, I imagined it might be me fucking you -- you know, my cock in your pussy. But now you're saying..."

"My cock in your cunt, wanker!" squealed Violet.

Grusha could only manage an inchoate mumble in reply.

"You scared?" pressed Violet.

"Of course I'm fucking scared, Violet! I'm a virgin... Well, no, I mean, not actually a virgin. But my cunt's a virgin, isn't it?"

"I'll be very gentle, cunty-pie..." Grusha could almost hear Violet grin. "Come on, this is an opportunity! This was meant to be, don't you think?"

"Okay..." replied Grusha, cautiously. "So, when and where shall we meet?"

~~~~~

And so, that very morning, Grusha and Violet set out toward the Grusinian Highway. Grusha forded the Mississippi, leaving the gates of Bilbao gleaming behind him, and soon the borders of the Republic also. Violet slipped out of her farmhouse, avoiding Mandalay for fear of the guards, and set off through the wild lands on the edges of the Grand Duchy. They traversed rivers and gorges, clambered across snowy mountain passes. Kind peasants gave them shelter and food on the way -- though they hid in ditches to avoid the Grand Duke's troops, who were extortionists dedicated to nothing more than lining their own pockets with gold. And as they travelled, they sang this song:

The poor and powerless have no gold

Or land, or capital.

Would that they possessed their own souls!

But the powerful have so poisoned the world,

That truth is hard to find,

Even in the soul of the most honest man.

(Actually, that's not exactly how their song went -- for they each sang it in their respective native languages, in both of which it sounds far more poetic. The above is the Mannheim-Rocket translation -- which is not too bad, considering...)

As the sun reached its zenith high above the Caucasus, Grusha and Violet spied each other on opposite sides of a deep gorge. Picking their separate ways gingerly down treacherous cliff paths, they met in a glade by a stream, where the flowers were blue and the butterflies golden.

And they fucked. They fucked as neither of them had ever fucked before -- her cock buried in his cunt, their bodies twisting, arching, curling, rolling across the soft grass. And when eventually they came, her sweet futa cum filling his virgin cunt with delight, they felt themselves doubly transformed, melded, joined, as if they could see deeper into each other's souls, and their own, than they had ever before.

And when they pulled apart, they found themselves changed again -- back to the way they always had been: she a pretty young woman with a happy juicy pussy, he a slightly flabby middle-aged man with a cock gradually going post-coitally flaccid. They looked at each other and laughed, tears of finely balanced embarrassment and self-knowledge leaking down their faces.

Their journeys home were uneventful. The Grand Duke had been overthrown by the people, his erstwhile troops distributing the ill-gotten palace treasures to all and sundry in celebration. The Captain of the Guard gave Grusha passage home on his horse; his Deputy commandeered a passing peasant to give Violet a lift in his bullock cart. And as they both crawled exhausted into their respective beds, their partners were still asleep. Before they lost consciousness, they softly hummed this song:

The rich and powerful own gold,

And land, and capital.

And they think they own our souls.

We know that is not true.

But they don't.

That is why the poor will inherit the earth.

And when Grusha and Violet woke up again, they both thought it had been a dream.