The Book of Division Ch. 04bycauchemar80©
Classes, meetings, fundraisers – Molly was spent when she came home at 5 that evening. She was also, evidently, alone. She hadn't noticed Fran's car in its usual spot outside, and the apartment was dark and still when she came home.
"Fran?" she called. No reply. Molly noticed the note on her bedroom door as she headed to the bathroom, though.
"At Paul's, took book, will return." Then, under that, "Suck it, Hemingway."
Molly's blood ran cold. She wasn't in one piece. Her pussy was still in the bowl on her desk, and her breasts were still warm under the covers in her bed. She was completely at Fran's whims. When, or rather if, Fran got home, Molly would be whole again, and no sooner.
"Looks like it's another night with myself," she said, going over to the bed and lifting the covers. Two perky breasts sat pushed together, protruding from the sheets, nipples attentive. Molly had a drawer full of C-cup bras, but lately they'd become uncomfortable and tight. She picked up one of her breasts – her right one, she felt – and rolled it around in her hands. It was probably time to upgrade to D-cups.
To avoid the awkward stares elicited by a complete absence of breasts when yesterday she'd worn a low tank-top with cleavage to spare, Molly had thrown on her frumpiest sweatshirt when she went back to campus. No one was the wiser, but as she pulled it over her head, she realized she could hardly wait to throw the itchy thing back into her closet.
She paused for a moment and looked down at her blank chest. Two faint circles of skin remained where her breasts had detached, but only if she looked hard enough, and knew where they were. Molly flipped over the breast in her hand. On the back of it, where it once attached to her chest, there was a faint circle. If she set it down, however, it collapsed into a perfect orb under its own weight.
Molly went over to her desk and grabbed the bowl, then headed to the bathroom. The bowl was heavy, probably with all the coffee she'd had earlier.
"You need to cut back on the caffeine, Mols" she reminded herself as she poured the bowl out in the toilet. "Doesn't do you any good except – JESUS!" She jumped about two feet into the air as her pussy slid into the toilet bowl. The water was freezing. She grabbed her vulva quick as she could and collapsed back against the wall.
"If I had flushed you..." she said, shaking it, which felt strange and looked more so, "I don't even want to think about it."
She douched herself in the sink; a very odd sensation, given that she was standing up and that the water going into her didn't go down, but staying inside, like a cup.
"This is just getting too fucking weird," she muttered, heading back to her bedroom and drying her lips off. It felt good, and as she plopped down on her bed, she realized that for all her efforts, it had only gotten wetter.
She laid it down on her sheets below her breasts, right where it would go if she were laying under them. For a moment, she leaned back and took in the scene. It almost looked like her bed had tits and a pussy. Molly couldn't help but laugh, yet the giggle had barely escaped her when she sat up, a thunderclap of inspiration rumbling in her mind.
"Oh, that's good. Fuck. That's the best idea yet," she told herself, grabbing her jacket and standing up. She leaned over to her breasts. "Don't go anywhere, you two." She kissed and lightly sucked her nipples, first the left one, then the right. Next, she moved down to her pussy, laying lips up on the covers. "Or you. Don't tell the girls, but you're my favorite." And she kissed her own clit. A tingle shot through her legs and she backed away, and shut her bedroom door.
Thirty minutes later, Molly was barreling back down the street as fast as her bike would move, and under her arm a discrete black plastic bag – a bundle from Sonny's Adult Comics and More. As she chained her bike to the building, she couldn't wipe the grin off her face.
"This is going to be good," she told herself as she shut her bedroom door. Throwing her clothes off, she picked up her left breast and her pillow and sat down on the bed.
She sat the pillow on its end and pressed her breast against it. When she let go, to her surprise, it stuck. She tried her right breast, and found that it worked perfectly. Molly lifted the pillow to her face and looked at it for a moment, smiling.
"Let's see why everybody wants to do this," she said, putting her face between her tits. As she shook her head from side to side, motor-boating them, she moaned softly. "That's not bad," she whispered, reaching for her pussy. She pushed it against the bottom of the pillow, on the end opposite her breasts, and let go. It, too, stuck to the fabric. She lay the pillow back on the bed and stood to admire it.
Effectively, it was a fucktoy; a torso with breasts and a pussy – her detached breasts, and her detached pussy. She let her gaze drift to the bag from Sonny's.
"You're about to make somebody very happy," Molly said, lifting the strap-on from the sack. She hefted it in her hand – it was a nice, thick replica – and stepped into the harness. It fit snug around her hips, a pair of panties composed of straps, and in the front, a socket for the dildo. She attached it and climbed onto her bed, hovering on arms and legs above the pillow.
"Where do I start, dear?" she said to herself, kissing her nipples, first one, then the other. She licked the outsides of her breasts, sighing as the tip of the strap-on brushed her clit on the pillow. "Everything in its time," she breathed as it twitched in excitement. She brought a hand down to her pussy and began to rub herself, continuing to suck her nipples, to roll them around with her tongue as they stiffened.
Molly braced the pillow with one arm and slid a finger inside herself, never moving far from her breasts.
"This is what it's like to be...ugh...with a woman, huh?" She grunted as she raked her G-spot and then withdrew her fingers, satisfied with how wet she was. "Except this is better."
She grabbed the pillow at its approximate hips and guided her pussy over the strap-on. She gave a strong thrust; it punched through her effortlessly, but she sucked in a sharp breath through her teeth. It was a lot bigger than she'd expected.
If her pussy had still been on her body, she would probably have been gentler, but something in the back of her mind justified the increased force.
Molly wasn't fucking herself. She was fucking the pillow. It had a pussy. It had breasts. And she had a dick. It was completely at her mercy.
But she was fucking herself. It was just a pillow. On it was her own pussy, her own breasts. She was just wearing a strap-on. She was completely at her own mercy.
She rolled the pillow over, as if she were taking it from behind. Humping it as if she really had a cock wasn't natural to her. Coupled with the fact that she still felt the strap-on sliding in and out of her, just inches behind the harness, it was difficult to get into the rhythm with herself.
Leaning over, she pushed the pillow against her chest and grabbed her breasts on the other side, tweaking her sensitive nipples. She leaned back to a sitting position and continued, pulling the dildo out slowly and jamming it in quickly. Each breath became higher in pitch, shorter in length, warmer on her skin, nearer in frequency.
"Fuck it," she muttered, pulling one of her breasts off the pillow and jamming it against her mouth. "This is way better."
Her lips pursed around her nipple and drew it in, dragging it past her teeth to be twiddled by her waiting tongue. She fell back on the bed, still humping the pillow, still fucking herself, but jamming her breast into her mouth. It hurt, somewhat, but she wanted it. She liked it.
She caught a glimpse of her other breast, still attached to the pillow, jiggling with every thrust.
"You need some attention, don't you?" she said to it, detaching it and brushing its nipple against her cheek. It was stiff as the strap-on. She pressed both breasts together, nipple-to-nipple, and gave them a twist. She gasped with excitement, moaning in exstacy. It felt dirty, but so good.
"God, Molly," she breathed, throwing herself forward and talking, muffled, into the back of the pillow. "You're a great lover."
Her breasts rolled onto the carpet in opposite directions. Normally it might've hurt, but she was past the point of no return. She could hear the sound of her own juices lubricating the dildo, the slight sucking sound as she withdrew it and an almost-splat as she reinserted it.
Oh God. I took them off. I took off my tits. I took off my pussy. Fuck, they just come off. And I can feel them. I'm fucking myself. Yes. Fuck me. Yes. YES. I'm coming.
Molly shuddered and screamed, pulled the dildo out and fell onto her side, twitching, as she came. The second the dildo left her, she squirted.
Registering the scene on a primal level, she turned the pillow toward her, and the stream of fluid went up her body, from her groin to breastless chest, to neck to face. With one hand she reached out and detached her pussy from the pillow, and with the other, she wiped her eyes.
For a second she sat there, panting, taking it in. She lay her pussy on her chest and closed her eyes, warm in the afterglow. Juices and sweat dripped from all over her body. Her sheets were soaked. Only her breasts, discarded on the floor, were still dry.
It felt like an eternity but was likely just a few minutes before Molly opened her eyes and sat up. She felt a sharp pain in her chest.
"Ow," she said, bending over to pick up her breasts. She'd just kicked one square in the nipple. Gently, she kissed it, then looked around for her pussy. She had it just a minute ago. Had it fallen on the floor?
She got down on her hands and knees, still wearing the strap-on, and peered under the bed. It was nowhere to be found. She stood up and threw the sheets off. Nothing. Then she looked down.
Her pussy was stuck to her chest, just between the blank spots made by the absence of her breasts. She sighed with relief.
"This," she said, grabbing a towel and heading for the bathroom, a breast in each hand, "is going to be a fun shower."