Chapter 2

ACT TWO, SCENE ONE

First a brief orchestral prelude,
and we’re back to the RAF again,
where it is still Friday 16^th July 2060,
but later in the afternoon.

“Cocks and cunts!” Dr Dick held centre stage again. “It is time for us to proceed to the finale of this week’s proceedings – which I know you have all being looking forward to.” There was a hubbub of excitement from the audience. “What you are about to witness is utterly unprecedented. The RAF is pleased to have been able to form a partnership with the Queen Meghan Trust for Fucking Research, who have for many years been pushing the boundaries of New Enlightenment science, and have managed to perfect, for the first time in human history, fully effective futanari biotechnology!”

The audience burst into excited applause, which Dick-Dick quelled by announcing: “Two of our most distinguished postgraduate researchers – Yumiko and Fumiko – have been collaborating with the Trust, and are at last ready to demonstrate the results of their research to us today...”

Riley, Dick and Cunts cleared the stage, the latter two resuming their seats in the front row of the audience. Riley, however, slunk off to stand at the rear corner of the auditorium. Throughout Cunts’ afternoon question-and-answer session she had been eyeing Edward Turner with suspicion, and now continued to stare at him as he sat in the back row of the auditorium, his reserved manner, grey suit and tie so out of place amidst the surrounding sea of nudity and lasciviousness.

A hush fell over the auditorium, as soft ambient music commenced playing, the lights dimmed ever so slightly, and the two distinguished researchers glided onto the stage from opposite wings. Slightly built, pale-skinned young ladies wearing flowing chiffon robes, their hair shaped into soft bobs, soft bangs framing their pale faces, with fine features and gently slanting eyes, they seemed perfect specimens of feminine beauty. Their strangeness, however, was highlighted by their colour scheme: each one’s hair and lips matched the hue of her dress: Yumiko’s were deep pink, Fumiko’s pastel blue. They approached each other and kissed, their soft tongues – one pink and one blue – extending, curling, and touching gently, so that a bubble of spit formed at their meeting-point, whence a fine string of saliva began to grow and sway. Soon their tongues were tangling more deeply, gently penetrating each other’s mouths, slobbering softly along and around each other’s cheeks and chins, so that they glistened and gleamed in the soft stage light.

But a slow gasp of astonishment was building in the auditorium, as the spectators noticed what was happening further down the performers’ bodies: a pair of identical bulges growing in their crotches, slowly tenting their skirts outwards. The front slits of their skirts parted from the internal pressure, and two cocks revealed themselves, bobbing and shuddering as they escaped their respective prisons. Yumiko and Fumiko gasped with pleasure, and the audience purred with delight.

Riley knew she should be watching the dickgirls more intently, but instead she continued to stare across the dim auditorium at Edward Turner. He appeared, perhaps uniquely among the spectators, not to be watching the show, but bowed his head with an apparent air of disquiet, muttering to himself under his breath.

The audience, however, continued to marvel at the newly-revealed futa cocks – for these were not just any old cocks, but specimens of magnificence and beauty. The New Enlightenment audience was used to genetically modified cocks – it was 2060 after all: by now it was commonplace for young men to be issued nine- and ten-inch cocks as standard – but these futa cocks were not just exceptionally large, but rich and strange, arresting, irresistible, and more perfectly designed than anything ever known before. Each about twelve inches long, and concomitantly thick, these cocks were stiff as steel, and appeared to emit their own natural glow, which pulsated gently with a soft heartbeat rhythm. A tightly trimmed triangle of pubes, matching its owner’s hair colour, graced the skin just above each penis. And as each cock rose stiffer and angled further upward, its foreskin smoothly retracted to reveal a shining throbbing glans, its colour echoing that of its owner’s lips and hair. Simultaneously, a tight hairless pussy, with colour-matching labia, was revealed just below each pair of heavy dangling testicles. Two pastel cunts gleamed and dripped, and two tinted cockheads bobbed, touched, and began to rub against each other, seemingly making themselves shine even brighter. Yumiko and Fumiko whimpered into each other’s mouths, painted tongues still tangling and drooling, gleaming pastel-tinted pre-cum beginning to seep from their cockheads to create a dangling web of pink-and-azure slime which dribbled down onto their heavy balls.

The audience were held in such rapt attention that hardly anyone dared to fuck or jerk off at the sight, or even speak, such was the sense of historical moment, and the sheer beauty and wonder of what was being witnessed. But Riley, lurking in her corner at the back of the side aisle as she licked her buttplug, started, as she noticed Mr Turner quietly stand, shuffle past a couple of audience members to the far aisle, and tiptoe towards a rear exit door.

Yumiko was now kneeling to take her opposite number’s blue-headed cock between her finely chiselled deep pink lips. The audience held their breath – for Fumiko’s cockhead seemed impossibly large – and then gasped as the pink lips parted wider than seemed humanly possible, and the huge cock slid effortlessly into the girl’s mouth, then deep into her throat. Fumiko began a slow throatfuck, gentle at first, then gradually faster and deeper, every now and again pausing with her balls hard up against Yumiko’s chin, her partner’s throat bulging obscenely and her eyes watering with pleasure.

Riley wanted to watch more, but instead hastily returned her buttplug to its proper home between her buttocks, and followed Mr Turner, at a safe distance, out into the corridor. He was not, as Riley feared, heading toward the exit, but the opposite direction, towards the toilets. Oh OK, he just needs a piss, thought Riley to herself, as the man disappeared through the door to the male toilets (marked, for clarity’s sake, with a large line drawing featuring a thick stream of pee erupting from an erect male cock). Riley returned to the auditorium, where by now Fumiko was doing a headstand, her huge blue-headed cock dangling, still stiff as a girder, toward her face, whilst her opposite number, standing behind her, held her legs apart and was pushing her massive pink shining cockhead against her light blue puckered asshole. Riley, no less than everyone else in the audience, gasped in wonder, as the upside-down performer’s tight hole stretched, parted, and sucked the huge cock deep inside, till Yumiko’s huge balls slapped against her partner’s buttocks.

Yumiko began to fuck, her massive cock gliding effortlessly in and out of the other futa’s blue-tinted anus. Leaning in, her pink triangle of pubic hair kissed her partner’s buttocks; pulling out, the blue futa’s asshole gaped, wider than anyone could imagine, a perfectly round, deep blue hole of such beauty and mystery that even assfucker extraordinaire Dr Riley Throstlethwaite-Eccles was enraptured, mesmerised. Suddenly, however, she forced herself out of her reverie, noticing that Mr Turner had not yet returned from the toilets. Shit, she thought to herself, momentarily smirking at the double meaning, before tearing herself away yet again from the performance to check the corridor outside.

Just as well I checked, she thought to herself as, poking her head out of the auditorium door, she caught a glimpse of Mr Turner’s retreating heels turning the corner at the opposite end of the corridor from the toilets, heading towards the main exit. Oh no you fucking don’t, she thought, following the man, always at a safe distance. Shit, what do I do? she cogitated. Call after him now? Ask him now? Or follow him? Motherfuck, what do I do? She wrung her hands in desperate indecision. She wanted to call out to him, to accost him, to confront him with the question which was burning in her mind – but it was really too late, and she knew it. For Edward Turner had reached the end of the corridor, passed swiftly through the main lobby, past the reception desk, and had exited the building.

Riley ran out of the front door, still thinking, It’s not too late. I could grab him now, ask him now... But Mr Turner was hailing a taxi, getting in, shutting the door.

And then he was gone.

Fuck, cursed Riley. Fucking cunting fuck...

And as Riley stood on the front steps of the RAF, deflated, frustrated, and annoyed at her own indecision and cowardice, Yumiko and Fumiko were on stage approaching their money shot. They stood facing each other, each pumping her own massive cock with two delicate hands, each throbbing coloured glans angled upward toward the other’s face. Both women whimpered and panted as their moment of sweet climax approached, feeling their cocks throb, twitch, and stiffen yet further as their hot futa-cum boiled and charged up their shafts towards blessed release. And as their cocks exploded simultaneously, a great cry of wonderment arose from the audience. For both futas’ cum was bright and fluorescent, shining and sparkling as it shot through the air at its opposite number. Yumiko’s was of course pink, and Fumiko’s pale blue, and as each thick rope of enchanted coloured semen landed exuberantly on its recipient’s face it created what an Enlightened audience such as this recognised as the most beautiful thing on earth: two beautiful female faces decorated, adorned, drowned in a rich latticework of coloured fluorescent cum. Cum splattered across the two dickgirls’ eyes, pooled on their upper lips, webbed around their tongues and teeth, dripped from the ends of their noses, and formed on their dainty chins great beards which dangled, swung, stretched tantalisingly, and eventually snapped, splattering onto their tits below. As the audience sighed and wept in Enlightened artistic ecstasy, Fumiko and Yumiko approached each other, cum-coated tongues outstretched, and kissed passionately. They licked and slurped, dribbling jizz back onto each other’s faces and into each other’s mouths, so that shining pink and azure stripes of cum intertwined, mixed and melded, and their countenances became bearers of a glorious, gloopy, shimmering coating of multihued futa cock-cream.

Their peer review process thus duly completed, the two distinguished postgraduate researchers, their huge dribbling cocks now gradually softening, turned towards the audience, and beamed. In the front row of the audience, a delighted Professor Cuntslicker stood, tears of joy running down her cheeks, and led the audience in rapturous ovation.

But Riley Throstlethwaite-Eccles was left standing alone on the pavement on Maryleboner Road, cursing herself.

*

“What ever happened to Riley?” wondered Dr Dick out loud, as he and Professor Cuntslicker let themselves out of the Royal Academy of Fucking at the end of a very successful day.

“No idea,” shrugged Cunts. “She seemed very interested in that man, you know, the one in the grey suit. She couldn’t stop watching him.”

“Ha! Maybe she fancied him fucking her ass,” chortled Dick-Dick. “You know, that girl has a supernatural instinct for sniffing out guys with big dicks...”

Cunts laughed. “‘Coffee’?” she suggested.

Dick-Dick raised one eyebrow. “Is that with or without ‘inverted commas’, E. J.?”

“Oh, with, I think. Yes, definitely,” smirked Cunts, reaching out to give her colleague’s crotch an affectionate squeeze.

“Your place? Mine? Or somewhere else?”

“Oh, it’s a lovely warm evening. What about in the park?”

Ten minutes later, Cunts was seated naked on a low-hanging oak branch, her back against the trunk, her legs spread, while Dick-Dick stood, his face buried in her crotch. The early evening summer sunshine cast long shadows across the grass, as passers-by hurried on their way home, paying scant attention to the couple enjoying their crepuscular arboreal fuck.

“I’m going to miss you, you know,” mumbled Dick-Dick, as his tongue gently tickled the amethyst which took pride of place this evening in Cunts’ clit-ring.

“Oh, Dick, you can always find other cunts to eat,” answered Cunts breezily. “Even with gemstones on their clits...”

Dick-Dick’s tongue was now gently probing between Cunts’ pussy-lips, prising them open to release the fragrant nectar within. “You know that’s not what I mean, don’t you, E. J.?”

“Oh, Dick!” sighed Cunts, partly in affectionate exasperation at his persistence, and partly in response to the magic his tongue-probing was beginning to work on her insides. She decided to address the latter point: “That’s good, right there – and now just curl it up just a bit ... yes, there, oh fuck, that’s good!”

“You’re changing the subject!” remonstrated Dick-Dick.

“No, Dick – this is the subject. This is what it’s all about, remember? Fucking. Pleasure – and the building of a world where everyone can have that Pleasure, all the – oh fuckfuckfuck, yes, finger right there...” Dick-Dick had moistened the middle digit of his left hand with Cunts’ fuck-juices and was gently circling it around the tight pucker of her asshole.

Dick-Dick paused his pussy-licking to look up into Cunts’ face, even as the tip of his finger probed into the moistened space just within the rim of her asshole. “But what if that’s not what it’s all about, E. J.? What if there’s more to life than that? What if there’s something more important? What if I want nothing more than to spend time with you, to be in your presence, to hear your voice? What if, whenever I’m with you, I’m happy – and whenever I’m away from you, my heart aches?” Dick-Dick began to slide his middle finger in and out of Cunts’ ass, whilst the thumb of his other hand began to circle her clit-bud, making the amethyst on her clit-ring glitter in the early evening light.

“Well, then, Dick, you’d better enjoy me while you can...” smiled Cunts. “Oh, that’s good: love your finger technique! Now slurp that tongue of yours up and down: I want to feel your spit on my asshole, go on.”

Dick-Dick was finding it difficult not to be distracted. “Dammit, E. J.,” he sighed, momentarily losing control of both temper and technique, and ramming his finger into Cunts’ rectum in one slightly too forceful thrust. Cunts gasped. “Oh, sorry,” Dick-Dick apologised, but continued to speak: “I know you won’t let me say what I mean, won’t let me tell you the one word I want to say – but that doesn’t take away the reality. Losing you is going to be the worst thing in my life. And you don’t deserve it: you have so much more in you to give. This world, this country, needs you as much as ever before. Just because the Enlightenment says –”