Speaking in Boytongues

"Excuse me. Are you - are you two boys?"

Which was not the first question one would have usually expected to break this particular ice.

It was, however, a question that Hannah's tongue was quite unexpectedly happy to answer. To the point the boy himself was actually forced back into a confused approximation of clarity just so it could happen.

"Er- Yes. Yes I...?"

Having not at all expected nor experienced a sudden post orgasmic sobriety before, and still wrestling with a litany of remnant questions himself, Hannah tried to cast an uncertain glance at his boyfriend, assumedly still lying happy on linoleum somewhere below his ribcage. He failed, but still got a weak kick in the shin in response, which he naturally interpreted in the affirmative.

Though he did still think about denying it. There was a part of him that was pretty sure he could, somehow? Something about all this felt just a little less... fucky. Fading fuck. But its residue still rang true.

So after only a moment's hesitation, he gave a most certain nod instead. "Yes. Yes we are. Boys."

"Ah. Then do you..." The new lady squatted down a mite bit further. Hannah could see her eyes now. They were really quite focused, on him. "Do you boys need- god, but that's a lot of boy. What does that even...?"

Hannah blinked. Melinda blinked.

"Can I kiss you, maybe?" Melinda finished lamely.

She blinked, again. Hannah blinked as well. Isha blinked too, if you really want to know. But neither of the other two saw it and honestly he wasn't gonna be directly involved in what was coming anyway.

"You're a girl, right?" Hannah's tongue probed. Just to make sure.

"Right. Well- though I should think 'woman' more-"

Though Melinda of course did not get to expound on what she exactly thought woman was more of. Because entirely too much boy for her to handle instead took the opportunity to reach up, grab her, and drag her right on down into a kiss that wasn't that particularly boy just yet, but probably would be soon.

And when two tongues parted after a very wet session or two of getting to know each other? It was actually both of them that came away all pronouned. Which Hannah decided definitely warranted further field testing. Plus, the woman's boy tongue had an exciting bitter bite to it, when compared to Isha's. Yum.

"Ahhh... oh... oh my. That was... that was really. Boy. Your- My? Wait, why do I..."

Yeah. Really boy. So maybe just another little taste...

*****

On the fifth of April 2017, in the middle of an aging Minnesotan food court, and isolated to the near exact epicenter of a young woman too unfortunate for words - to her high and fore, more specifically - the fabric of reality kinked. Hesitated. Overcompensated. And just like that, got just a wee bit fucked.

So read the post-incident report, paraphrased, as compiled by select administrative bureaus in the months directly following April 5^th, 2017. Three months, specifically. By then eyewitnesses had been more or less contained, those affected returned to a state of near complete normalcy, and all involved in an administrative capacity, to a man, ready to wash their hands of the affair in full. It really was quite stupid.

But there were a number of very peculiar proposed edits to that report, as submitted in a universally unofficial capacity from some of the more prominent individuals involved, and as summarily rejected for what one would hope to be obvious reasons. Yet given the strikingly similar sentiment shared amongst them, particularly towards the latter stages of their rehabilitation, a mention of their submission has still been noted in the relevant case file. This sentiment being perhaps best summarized in ongoing research subject Hannah Bertrand's submitted verbal addendum, which consisted almost solely of the following*:

Suggested Edit: 'a young woman too *fortunate* for words', you mean. Just try. You'd be cute, I can tell.

The subject's tongue was then extended towards an on-duty containment officer. Which per policy was interpreted as a threat, and resulted in an additional week of manned supervision. Despite many protests.

*On release, subject also attempted to append her personal cellular phone number to the report. This too was rejected, however, and the subject furthermore reminded further public relapses could result in more extended incarceration. This incident is now considered closed.

Extra Notes for Conceptualized Epilogue

(In which two butts again turn boy, by request.)

*****

Author's note: This probably won't ever get written, since I don't think I can do anything all that conceptually interesting with "they turn boy again, then Isha's buttfucked", but I was a little sad I couldn't naturally transition into an anal scene and I was still riding the finished-story high long enough to have remnant creative juices for the below.

Use your imagination.

*****

*Five months post incident*

*Isha comes huffing in after knocking, but before being invited in, using a spare key of her own. Hefts a duffel bag onto the counter. Immediately and repeatedly demands to be boyed; Hannah acts extremely coy and teasing about it, because as it turns out she's the only one who can actually turn the boy thing on and off, and in turn spread it. It takes a lot of mental effort to make that first flare of boy tongue happen, though, and she doesn't really have a trick to it, so she just shoots the shit while thinking boy thoughts until the boy just kinda happens.

In the course of initial conversing Hannah starts amusedly sorting through it, and finding all sorts of male oriented dildos and assorted sex toys. Also finds a chastity cage and audibly wonders 'how does that make sense'; it doesn't actually get used in the story's course, but idea is to imply Isha's totally open intention to be sexually explorative.

Verbal shitposts, some given towards one of many conspicuously installed ceiling mounted security cameras: "Ask not for who the boy tolls; it tolls for thee." "But you, you took the boy less traveled, and that made all the difference." Stuff like that, to really tick Isha off.

"If you don't boy me right now, I swear to god I'm going to pee on your rug. Or... actually, that might be kinda hot. Boy pee..."

"Boy pee..." Hannah absently echoed, back turned and otherwise engaged but brain actually kind of seizing onto the idea in passing anyway. "Boy... wait, no. No. There will be no boy peeing here."

She paused. "Because I literally am not allowed to hire cleaners. Fuckers."