Juliette of Mars

But that humming seemed to buzz in our bone-hard clit as well. And, as we teased, the buzzing became a rhythmic thumping, then a fiery-hot pounding.

We were way too aroused to be able to form words with either body. "Oooohh...aaah...ooohhhhhh," our boy-voice groaned.

"Aaaahh...uuuuungh...aaaoooooh," our girl-voice answered in a sad, strangled whimper.

Finally, Juliette-me was so overwhelmed with the excitement of inflicting ecstatic agony on Stones-me that we could no longer play the teasing game. Our fat, shiny girl-lips, now trembling with passion and erotic desire, slowly closed on the tip of our rigid man-pole. As they grasped it tightly, the physical sensation of the incredible stiffness, thickness, and weight of the huge piece of fuck meat, the anticipatory gasp from Stones-me and the sharp taste of several drops of pre-cum instantly drove us to new heights of sexual passion. Our clit and nipples, already harder than they ever been before, felt like they were going to explode.

Without hesitation, we somehow swallowed the entire length, pink tongue-studs vibrating like crazy the whole way down. Stones-me let loose an out-of-control shriek of pleasure, but amazingly, didn't cum yet. We swung our Juliette-body around to put our clit within reach of our Stones-mouth, which jumped at it like a starving baby at its mother's oozing nipple. We sucked as hard as we could and finally, Juliette-me could resist being fucked no longer.

We blinked, and instantly our Juliette-body shifted position again, so that our dripping, quivering pussy lips now captured the tip of our gigantic erection. Our Juliette-juice dribbled thickly down the shaft. Our guy-eyes feasted on our lovely Juliette-face, delightfully twisted in glad expectation of the sexual release we were about to experience. Slowly, we sank down on our enormous boner. Slowly, we pushed up into the deliciously tight, slippery wetness of our burning cunt.

By now, Stones-me was many times more aroused than I had ever been in real life, but still wasn't cumming. As our excitement increased even further, we lost all control of the muscles of our Stones-body, which just lay there, shaking like it was having some kind of fit, waiting for our Juliette-self to free us from our suffering.

Juliette-me, also far more sexually excited than ever before, had only slightly more control. But, by reflex, or habit, or raw, demanding need, we managed to lurch up and down just enough to take us to the edge of what we thought would be the ultimate, heavenly orgasm.

Then, just as we got there, we realized to our infinite delight that our Stones-cock filled all three Juliette-holes. Cunt, ass and mouth were each stuffed full of stiff Stones-meat, filling them like they'd never been filled before, stretching them to their limit and beyond.

But just as sweet liberation arrived, just as the ecstasy started and we began to flood gallons of sticky cum deep into our girl-holes, our manhood began to swell and grow, getting even longer, even thicker, even stiffer, and the pain began. It was small at first, but quickly grew until it burnt like the fires of Hell and expanded to fill me and her and us with a suffering just as intense as our orgasmic pleasure.

"OOOOH, OOOOW, STOP!!!!! AAGGGH. I'M BEING RIPPED APART, TORN TO SHREDS. STOP, STOP, STOP," we screamed in a terrifying shriek. Blood began to run heavily from vagina, asshole and mouth, mixing with the sperm and turning it pink.

Juliette-me should have been able to get up, get off the bed and away from our cruel, monstrous cock, but didn't try. We just screeched and twisted helplessly. Stones-me was still tied down and couldn't have pulled out if we had wanted to. But we weren't sure we wanted to. We were paralyzed by having to choose between the overwhelming joy of orgasm and ending the unbearable pain.

It wasn't clear any more who had control of which of our bodies. All that we knew was that we were killing dear, sweet Juliette with sex and we couldn't stop.

We were locked in a motionless world of misery and lust, guilt, horror and ecstasy, and we floated there for a lifetime, rejoicing and despairing, cumming and bleeding, screaming with pleasure and howling with pain, thinking we had found a new kind of nightmare and that it was forever.

But when forever was over, I slowly became aware that I was alone, or more accurately, I became aware of the absence of Juliette. Then I realized that the agony and the pleasure were gone, leaving behind a flat, dull ache. I drifted in the dark for a very long time, on still waters which felt like the holo display at the Atlantis Club set on "calm".

Eventually, I heard voices speaking, but couldn't understand them. Then I figured out that they were outside me, not in my head. More time passed - I don't know how long - and I realized that my eyes were closed and I opened them. A fat, ugly cop face leered down at me. I was pretty sure that what I was looking at now was real.

I was strapped down to a dirty cot in a small infirmary. There were secure locks on the door, and I guessed I was in a prison or jail of some kind.

"Had a bit of fun there, did we?" the cop sneered. "Couldn't keep our hands off ourself, could we? Tried to beat off right through surgery, didn't we?" he chuckled. "You put on quite a show, you did."

I tried to focus my eyes a little better. "Surgery? How long have I been out?" I croaked.

"We picked you up five days ago," he grinned, "rolling on the floor of that truck, your hand on your cock and a small fountain of blood running out of your ass. The last five feet of your intestines...What is that, small intestine? Large intestine? Whatever, it was shredded, completely torn apart. We brought you here. The doctor cut out a big chunk of your guts. And don't go looking for your asshole, either. He sewed it right up. That's why you've got this," he smirked, as he lifted the thin, dirty sheet which covered most of my body and nodded toward a small plastic bag lying on my abdomen.

"Damn waste of public resources, if you ask me," he added. "We're just going to kill you soon, anyway. But they say we have to let you get better before we can execute you. What sense does that make?" He looked at me as if I might have the answer to his question. "Anyhow, the whole time the doctor was working on you, you were trying to jerk yourself off. That's why you're strapped down."

"Execute me?" I asked dully. "For what?"

"Having a planet's worth of 'phro-mone, stealing it, stealing the truck and fucking three people to death, including your girlfriend. You know, felony trafficking, seven counts of larceny over and three counts of murder two. What'd you think, driving without a license? That too, of course. But it's not actually a capital offense."

"Don't I have to be tried first?" I asked.

"That already happened," he snickered. "Two days ago," he paused and paged through a thin manila folder, "from 10:45 to 10:52 a.m. Says so, right here in your records," he said, waiving the file. "You have the right to read the transcript, if you want," he added, tossing it on my stomach. It landed softly and hurt like hell. But I was still strapped down, so it just sat there.

I realized, of course, that it was the duct tape which had saved me. The others had probably mostly died because the crazed dildrones had crawled down their throats and cut off their air. Still, I lay there wondering whether it was true that I had played some part in killing Juliette. Maybe I'd gotten to her. Maybe she'd still been alive when I got there. And maybe, in my 'phro-mone frenzy, I'd helped those nasty little fake pricks kill her. Maybe I stuck my cock down her throat and helped the unnatural little fuckers stop her breathing. I couldn't keep from thinking about it.

I asked the cop whether Juliette been suffocated by the dildrones and he didn't seem to know what I was talking about. "Is that what you call that thing between your legs, a what? A 'bildrome'?" he laughed.

"We took a lot of holopix at the scene," he cackled. "Want to see what she looked like? You wouldn't know it from the pictures, but I hear she was sort of pretty - in a Buckeye kind of way - before you and your friends biffed her up like that. But there's no way you'd recognize her from the pics. She was that torn up. Your brother and his friend, too. It's amazing and disgusting what you jerks managed to do to her and to each other."

Eventually, when the cops were convinced I could resist the sin of masturbation, they unstrapped me and I got to look through the folder. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, in the cop report, or the "trial" transcript, about dildrones. That told me that either the cops had them now, and were keeping them, and probably selling them, for their own gain, or that it was someone with enough cop influence to cover up their existence. It also told me that there wasn't much point in appealing my conviction or applying for a pardon.

The cop version of events was simply that the four of us went crazy on stolen 'phro-mone and fucked each other to death, except for me. I was the only living person that knew what really happened, and one of the few who knew about the dildrones, and who the hell was going to believe me?

Even though I had already been found guilty, the cops tried to get me sign some kind of confession. I have no idea why. Maybe there had never actually been a trial. Maybe they just needed it for their records. But I wasn't about to do anything they wanted me to do, so I just remained silent, which they kept saying was my right. And they kept beating the crap out of me, which apparently is their right. Anyway, their investigatory procedures played hell with my recovery, but I really didn't give a shit one way or the other.

After a while, they gave up on the confession thing and now they just take turns keeping an eye on me until I'm well enough to be killed. Most of them are complete assholes. But one's not so bad. I think he's got some weird political ideas about helping the lower classes or something. He must figure I qualify because he's sort of nice to me and brought me a pen and some paper. He said he might do something important with whatever I write.

I could care less what he does with it, but writing everything down has helped me make sense of some things. I understand now that I deserve to be executed. I killed those guys at the mingler. And if I hadn't, the Flea wouldn't have noticed me, I wouldn't have been asked to go on the Tokyo Sector job, Frankie wouldn't have approached me about a loan to take Juliette to Borealis, and maybe the rest of the stuff wouldn't have happened either. So, one way or the other, it was all my fault. I was responsible for six deaths, not even counting myself.

But what I don't understand is that Frankie and Juliette never did anything but try to survive and have a little fun. They never hurt no one. That part still doesn't seem right. Boof...well, who gives a flying fuck? Not me, that's for sure.

So now I'm almost healthy enough to execute and they feed me crappy food and change my bag a couple of times a day and I miss Juliette. Shit, do I miss Juliette. And I wonder if I helped kill her. And I go over and over it: what I did, what I remember, what I don't know, what probably did or probably didn't happen. It's driving me crazy, but I can't stop torturing myself.

Maybe what I thought was a hallucination was pretty close to what was actually happening. Maybe I couldn't stop fucking her, even though I was killing her. And maybe she couldn't stop either. Or maybe I was just lying on the floor of the truck beating off with ten or twelve dildrones up my ass. I'll never know, but there's only one way I'll ever stop thinking about it, and it's up to the cops when that happens. I just wish they'd hurry up and do it.