Tomorrow [Mf] [denial]

“Fucking no! Jesus, Nancy. How many times? That’s just … gross”.

Her eyes well up, “Gross, huh? Well how do you think I like it?”

“Oh come on, that’s not what I mean.”

She looks away, hot tears of frustration frosting her eyelashes. “You’re such an asshole, Ryan. Such a god damned asshole.”

I lose it, just completely lose my cool and I start shouting at her “Oh yeah? Well how many of your other friends are here every day to help you out and try to cheer you up, huh? And just because I don’t want to … do that with you, I’m the asshole here? What about you? Always taking taking taking, and never giving anything back, and when you don’t get what you want, then you’re *such* a bitch.”

Her eyes are wide open now, and I think maybe I’ve gone too far, but I’m in no mood for apologies so I storm out of her room and run down the stairs and out of the front door.

I’ve been friends with Nancy since the second grade. She took me under her wing on the day that Michael Harris pushed me over in the playground because he thought my hair was “stupid”. He stood over me for a long minute, hurling insults and prodding me with the mud bespattered toe of his shoe. I remember the fear and the sense that I had done something terribly wrong, that I had wronged him somehow. The memory still produces a childish urge to cry. I was spared that last humiliation by Nancy, aged 7, who came screaming in from a nearby game to shout “Leave him alone” and push *him* over. It was his turn to cower and be prodded, and hers to laugh, while I stood mutely by, awed by the presence of divinity.

From that day I was her shadow. We played together, had sleep overs, did our homework together. To be honest, she was bossy, and I was a wallflower, and we somehow accomodated one another. While I grew steadily more nerdy and intense, she grew slowly more beautiful and popular. I was 13 when I told her that I loved her, and she laughed in my face. I had to watch her that same day necking with Amit Patel. And Michael Harris. I think she enjoyed my jealousy. As she grew older, her relationships (manifold, varied, concurrent) became sexual and she would tell me about her conquests in great detail, apparently relishing the way my face burned slowly red.

That all ended, though, after she had the accident. It wasn’t even her fault, just one of those things. She was walking home from seeing a girlfriend when a sky car lost power and came screaming out of the sky to smash her into the ground. It’s a miracle she survived, they said. She was in a coma for a month, and when she came to, she’d lost her limbs. One of the new strains of Streptococcus, the ones they have to fight with nanites, had infected her wounds and gnawed away at her flesh. They removed her arms and legs, and replaced her kidneys and heart with implants.

Her parents are pretty well off, though, and they bought her a place on the EverLife list for total renewal. Some of her internal organs got pretty badly mashed up, although her brain is absolutely fine, so they’re going to give her a full body replacement, from the neck down. It’s amazing, really, just a few years ago this would have seemed like science fiction.

She calls me that night, and her voice is full of contrition. “I’m sorry,” she says, “I know you’re always so good to me, and I don’t deserve you, really I don’t. I’m just – ” she stops for a few seconds. “I’m just afraid of not having my body any more. Can you understand that? I feel like I’m going to die, Ryan. I feel like what comes out of the hospital won’t be the real me, but just some … *thing* … and I want to … feel me, just a little bit longer.”

I have no answer to that.

It’s a couple of days before I can get over to see Nancy again. When I walk into her room I can tell there’s something wrong. Her face looks drawn, and she’s sitting in gloom, curtains closed to the late afternoon sun. She’s staring blankly at the holo screen beside her bed, which soaks her in a blue light. I move some books off the stool beside her bed and sit down. “Hey Nance, what you watching?” I ask her cheerily.

“I don’t even know,” she answers, “just some … *drama* … like I need more of that”.

“Oh, um, hey I brought you some of that fruit mousse that you really like. You want it?” She approximates a shrug.

“Maybe later, thanks”.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“Yeah, I think so. The date for my surgery has been set is all. They had a last minute cancellation.” She laughs bitterly, “God that’s such a morbid term in context. ”

“Oh my god, Nancy, that’s fantastic news!” I say, “You’ll be up on your feet in no time!”

She shakes her head and pulls a wry moue, “Sure. *My* feet.”

I reach out to touch her shoulder and say, “Hey Nance, it’s going to be okay, you know? They do this a lot, and you’ll be able to play volleyball again, and get out in the sunshine, and spend time with your girlfriends, and whatever happens, no matter what, I’ll alwys be here for you.” She looks up at me, “You know I love you to bits, right Nance?”.

Her face turns mischievous, the elfin smile has that ruined so many young men, “you know, if you really loved me, you could do something for me.”

I sit up again, pull my hand away. “Not again, “I say, “I just don’t feel right with it. You’re like my sister and … honestly … it would just be fucking weird under the *best* of circumstances, which this most certainly is not”. Her expression flashes anger again, and the hot tears reappear.

“You have no idea what it’s like,” she says, “My body knows it’s going to die, Ryan, it knows that it’s going to stop *being* and it’s so hungry.”

“That must be really hard, Nance, I’m sorry.”

“Oh spare me your pity,” she shoots back, “I’m fucking *horny*, Ryan, all the fucking time. Just look at my fucking nipples, they’re like bullets, and the sheet rubbing against them is driving me wild. My pussy is literally *drooling* all day, and I can’t even touch myself. My parents have to pretend not to notice when they change my sheets. It’s so -” her face is red, a tear runs down the side of her face, “it’s just so humiliating. And it’s humiliating having to ask you, of all people, to touch me, to make me cum.”

Me. Of all people. That stings, and I bite my tongue. “I … can’t, Nance, ” I say, “I’m sorry. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

She just sighs, and looks away. We sit in mutual silence for a few minutes and then she suddenly turns her head to me as though remembering something. “Hey, um, I know this is super weird, but I, um…” she flushes, “I think I might need to pee.”

“Oh, ” I say, “Do I need to .. take you somewhere?”

She laughs out loud, “Sure, and just prop me up on the seat? No, I have a .. a catheter but Mom didn’t fit it before she left… I don’t want you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable …”

“Um… okay, I guess, but I don’t know how to do it. I mean … I don’t want to hurt you or anything. Are you sure I shouldn’t just call someone, I don’t min – ”

“No, it’s fine, ” she assures me, “it’s super easy, and I’ll walk you through it.”

“Oh, okay, I suppose.” I say. “Um, what do I do first?”

She beams at me, “you’re *so* helpful. Okay, there’s a box under the bed with all the stuff, get it out.” I reach down and pull out a large white box, and place it on the bedside table. Opening it I see a whole bunch of weird and uncomfortable looking stuff. I’m not sure I want to do this. Scratch that, I *definitely* don’t want to do this, but I don’t want her to, you know, wet herself, so I take a deep breath.

“First step is really easy,” she tells me, “all you do is pull back the sheets. There’s some absorptive cloths in the box, the white things. Just, um … lift me up and pop it under me in case of … you know … “.

I take a deep breath, and gingerly lift the sheet, keeping my gaze averted. She laughs at me, “Ryan, sweetie, you’re going to need to look. It’s cool, I promise, I don’t mind.” I giggle nervously and take a look. Under the sheet she’s wearing nothing but an oversized grey t-shirt made from cheap ersatz cotton. She’s right about the nipples, I can see them poking through the thin material. She looks weird, like a baby in swaddling cloths. “Okay,” she says, “are you ready? All you have to do is slide your hand underneath me and lift me up a little, then put the sheet under my butt. Can you do that?”

I take out one of the cloths and slide my hand underneath her. I’m surprised, for some reason, to discover that she still has the stumps of her legs, barely two inches. The skin on them is too smooth and hairless to be natural, shiny like a burn. They poke from the bottom of the t-shirt as I lever her up, trying to avoid the thought that my hand is on her pert backside, which feels just as firm and warm as I always imagined. I slide the cloth in and gently lower her back to the mattress. “That’s great, thanks,” says Nancy, and then looks thoughtful, “I guess you’ll want gloves for the next part.” She sighs. “They’re in the box too, uh, white cardboard box like for Kleenex.”.

Increasingly uncomfortable, I pull two latex gloves from the box and manage – after a couple of false starts – to get them on my hands. Nancy is watching me raptly. “Okay, now this next bit is really important. At the bottom of the box are some like … blue sachet things? Like tubes with jelly in. That’s lube. You need to lube me up so that the tube can go in.” My face is burning red, prickly heat around the nape of my neck, and she giggles, “it’s okay, silly. I’ll tell you how. First, you just need to get that lube between your palms and warm it up.”

I tear open the sachet and squirt it into my left hand, and start to rub my hands together. “Like this?” I ask, and she nods eagerly.

“Cool, so now you need to rub it like all over. Uh… the muscles need to relax so that it won’t hurt when the tube goes in.”

“Like, down there? You want me to … rub your … parts?” She laughs out loud at this, cackling at my discomfort.

“Yes, Ryan, I need to you to rub the lube into my ‘parts’. Please? It’s really important that the muscles are warm and relaxed.”

I take a deep breath and shake my head a little. Gingerly I lift the bottom of her t-shirt, pulling it up to expose her stomach. Her stumps look obscene. They shouldn’t belong to the girl lying in front of me, but to some other creature, some sea dwelling monster, something from the deep geological past. I force myself to look where her legs meet. Her bush is thick and dark, and I can see her labia jutting out like they’re kissing the air. I’m weirdly and creepily reminded of fish, like goldfish mouths, saying bob bob bob. I wipe my right hand onto her … vulva … covering it in the lube. “That’s it,” she says, “now you just need to rub it in, all over so that the muscles open up”.

I awkwardly rub at her, like I’m trying to wipe something from the kitchen counter and she grimaces. “Not like that! You need to go slowly, and, um … gently.” I frown, and look at her for approval, and start to massage her, squeezing her mound gently in my hand and rubbing the lube up and down her labia. The heel of my palm pushes firmly against her and she sighs and says “Oh yes, that’s it. That’s really, really relaxing.” Her eyes close and she chews the corner of her lip.

“Hey, um, Nance. I’m not sure this is – ”

“Shhhh”, she scolds, “you’re doing great. Now you need to get me ready for the tube… uh … oh yes …you need to …” her breath is shallow “you need to just slide a finger inside so that I’m lubed in there, too, and try to open me up a little.”

Hesitantly, I push one gloved finger against the entrance to her vagina and am surprised when it sinks in immediately to the first knuckle. The feeling of heat and wetness makes my cock stir despite my misgivings and I quickly think of something else. Math homework. Something dry. Not wet. Not wet and sticky and yielding and –

“Now just rub inside me, at the top there, to, uh, open me up” she instructs, and I start to stroke the inside of her vagina, crooking my finger as though beckoning her to me. She moans, and tosses her head and then suddenly croons “Oh fuck, yes. That’s it, Michael, fuck my little hole. Oh God I’m so hot for you.”.

Instantly, I snatch my hand away. A long thread of her juices dangles from the fingertip of my glove. “OH my God, Nancy. You *were* just fucking with me! I fucking knew it! You’re just using me to get off. That’s … twisted!”

She smiles her devilish smile again and says, “well, since you’ve started, you might as well – ” but I’ve already turned on my heel and marched toward the door, and I peel off the gloves as I storm down the stairs, slamming the door behind me and depositing them in a bin at the corner of the street. It’s only once I’ve left that I realise she’d called me Michael. Her ex. Michael fucking Harris.

That night I lay awake for a long time. I felt absolutely humiliated, so angry that she could use me that way. I felt violated. The worst of it was that, despite my anger, I couldn’t get her out of mind: how hot and wet she was inside, how tightly she gripped my finger, how perfect the ruins of her body were. Eventually I was driven out of bed and, sat in front of my console. Bathed in its weird shimmering light I browsed porn, endless porn, for hours. Usually I liked cute girls, lesbians, POV blowjobs. Tonight I delved, looking for something to fit my mood. Drooling fuckpig ruined. Hogtied young cunt stretched and fucked. Rape and abuse her tiny teen whore holes. Torture my tits and cum on my face. When I finished, the first slow rays of sunrise were peeking through my curtains and I was emptied, but not satisfied.

It was a few days before I went to see her again. I didn’t answer her texts or return her voicemails. The weather took a turn for the cooler, and my evening runs took me through piles of whirling leaves. When I eventually visited her again she lit up, beaming with pleasure. “Oh hey! It’s you! I missed you! How’ve you been?”.

I smiled and shot her a quick “Hey”, and settled onto the stool beside her bed. “I’m okay, Nance. How’ve you been?”

She does her semi-shrug and says, “Okay, I guess. Um, listen, I’m really sorry about what happened. That was a pretty shitty thing I did, huh?”

It’s my turn to shrug, “Yeah, pretty shitty. You made me feel pretty stupid.” I pause, remembering, “Like how is *that* a plausible way to fit a catheter?”. She bursts out laughing at this, and I can’t help but join in, and for a second everything is okay. When we’ve stopped laughing, I look her in the eyes and say “I guess I just don’t get it. Why me? You’re gorgeous, there must be thousands of guys just in this town who would love to help you out. Why do you have to pick on me?”

She raises one eyebrow quizzically. “Pick on you? Is that what you think?”

“Well that’s how it feels, I guess. Like I’m just some joke.”

She looks hurt. “I’m not picking on you. You’re not a joke.” She takes a deep sigh. “Look at me, Ryan. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m a quadruple amputee. I am literally a pussy, a pair of tits, and a mouth. That’s it. What kind of freak goes for that? Sure, I can post on Craigslist or something ‘Horny Teen Amputee Needs to Cum’ and who do you think will show up? What would they *do* to me? What would they take? It’s not like I can fight back. I’m … helpless. They could hurt me, or make videos of me, and I couldn’t do a thing to stop them.” She looks devastated, but I’m finding it hard to concentrate, because this conversation is giving me a really weird boner, and I find myself reaching out to stroke her hair.

“Poor Nance. You’re really struggling, aren’t you?”

She looks at me with her big, blue eyes and she puts on a breathy little girl voice and she says “Uh-huh… I’m … just so *horny*, Ryan, and I trust you… I wish you’d play with me.”

Against my better judgement, I find my hand running down her face and over her chest where my fingers find and stroke a hard nipple. I cup her breast in my hand. I have wanted this for so long, to touch her, to be wanted by her. She closes her eyes and purrs in satisfaction. “Mmmmm, I love that. My nipples are so sensitive right now. You can touch me under my t-shirt if you like.” so I slide my flat palm up underneath her clothing. She feels better than I could have imagined. Her skin is warm and plump, and I’m fascinated by the tiny bumps on her nipple. Her breast lays heavy and ripe in my hand, and I squeeze it slowly.

I pull the collar of her t-shirt down with my other hand, down past her breast so that the soft white skins is exposed, then lower my mouth to her nipple and suck gently, licking the tip with my tongue. She groans with pleasure. “Oh fuck, yes, I need this. Thank you so much. Keep sucking my nipples. I love that.” I nibble her gently, and my right hand snakes down over her toned, flat stomach to reach for her sopping wet pussy, and as soon as I touch her there she whimpers and gyrates her hips. “Christ, I’m so close already. I’ve been desperate to cum for weeks. Finger me, please, oh fuck yes.” and I slide two fingers all the way inside her and pump slowly while my thumb rubs her clit and she whines and pants and sobs.

I look at her, shuddering and needy on the bed, and I hear myself say “What’s it worth, Nancy? What’s in it for me?”

She groans again, low and guttural, and then speaks in her little girl voice, “anything you like, baby. You want to fuck me? Hmmm? You can fuck me in all of my holes. Think about how hot and wet my cunt would be around your cock, how good it would feel to have my sopping pussy milk you and drink your cum. You could fuck my tits if you like. I’ve caught you staring at them a thousand times. Well now you can have me, Ryan, you can use me as your cum rag. You can slide your big hard shaft in between my tits and I’ll suckle on the head of your cock until you shoot down my throat.” She moans, “ohhhhhhh, and all you have to do is make me cum with your fingers or your cock or your mouth. Please? I’m begging you.” Her breath is ragged now and she’s trying to push her hips up to meet my fingers, but the most she can manage is a soft wriggle. I take my hand away and pinch her nipple, hard, which elicits an “owww, fuck” and some more gyration.

And I sit up.

Her eyes fly open. “Hey, what the fuck? What the actual fuck? Oh my God, dude… oh fuck … I was about to cum!”

I look at her lying there, her left breast exposed, nipples engorged. I lick the juice from my fingers and smirk. “I dunno, Nance. I think maybe I like you more this way. You’re nice to me when you’re needy. Maybe I should just keep you tke this”.

She groans in frustration, “Come on, dude, I’m dying here. Just finish me off, please? God, I ache so much inside.”

Smiling at her, I move round to the end of the bed, kneel there, and lift her t-shirt, exposing her hairy pussy to the air. I lean in slowly and flick my tongue over the pink bud of her clitoris so that a shiver runs through her body suddenly and she closes her eyes again to concentrate on the feeling. My tongue softens, now becomes rounded and warm and laps lazily, over her hood and underneath the head and she whispers “oh Christ that feels good.” then catches her breath and says “I want to grab your hair, oh it’s fucking unfair”. My tongue wends downward then, separating her, opening her up, licking gently back and forward. When I reach the bottom of her slit my tongue points again and plays in the entrance to her warm, tight canal. I lap her there, teasing, darting in and curling out for a few seconds, then push in as far as I can. She has a rich, tangy flavour, alien but somehow familiar. She tenses up and shakes somewhere deep inside and exhales sharply, so I withdraw and my tongue is coated in her now and I stroke and paint all the way back to her clitoris, spreading her thick gooey juices along the edge of her lips.

I lift my head and suck my upper lip clean. “You are fucking delicious”, I say to her. She wriggles and tries to push her hips back to my mouth, but I move my head back by the barest fraction of an inch so that she can almost graze my mouth, and then purse my lips as though whistling to gently blow air over her clit. I watch it swell and emerge from its hood, then lean in and suck it gently, so softly, enveloping it between my lips. When it’s warm and wet again, I open my mouth, and suck air over the delicate nub, making it cold, then tease it around and around with the tip of my tongue.

I want to devour her, but instead I stand back up and pull the collar of her t-shirt up to cover her breast. I let go of it and it pings with a satisfying snap. I cover her back over with the sheet and breezily say, “maybe tomorrow, Nance”, and I leave, with her beautiful howls of anguish ringing in my ears all the way downstairs.

That night I’m so hard thinking about her. Porn again. Teased and denied by cruel master. Electroshock vibrator forced orgasm. Clothespegs on pussy and her ass is pounded. Innocent lesbo flogged and licked.

I jerk until I’m sore.

There are three days left before her surgery.

——

I’m Robin Goodfellow, I like words, and I like filth. I’m kinda chalking this one up as a failed experiment. I had to cut it short because I just couldn’t make the pivotal tit-fucking scene work on the grounds that it was just too absurd. Remember that I’m writing throwaway erotica about a virgin nerd and a quadruple amputee volleyball girl; there is a very low bar for absurdity, but I simply couldn’t clear it.

If you think you can do a better job, or you think my writing is hackneyed nonsense, or if you’re strange enough to actually like this drivel, drop me a line: I do this for the orange envelopes and the lulz.

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/7deuwd/tomorrow_mf_denial