I’ve no idea if she went through with it. At breakfast the next morning she seemed especially affectionate toward Harry, wrapping her arms around his neck for an impromptu hug during a short trek to the refrigerator for juice. He kissed her and watched her walk across the kitchen, but I didn’t get the sense that they had entered some dramatic new phase of their relationship.
In fact, if anything, Harry seemed more focused on hurrying through breakfast, shoveling bites of waffle into his mouth.
“Today’s the day,” he told all of us as Madison sat down with a bottle of pomegranate juice. “I reran the numbers last night to be sure, but we’re ready.”
I glanced at Madison, a bit confused.
“We’re done?” I said. “Was my end finished?”
“Sweetie,” Madison said to Harry, a nomenclature that seemed to throw him a bit. “I didn’t even know my organics were matured.”
“I’ve done a lot of the work myself,” he said. “but not to worry, you’ll both still get full credit.” He looked to each of us, then beamed. “Let’s go! She’s waiting,” he said. “History, I mean.”
Author: Arthur_Brash
Forever Hung (Part 13) [sci-fi] [slow burn] [all characters over 21] [MF]
No one regretted that night—indeed, we were all in a fantastic mood the next day—but there seemed to be a tacit agreement between the four of us to never acknowledge it. We made our usual small talk at breakfast, and even if I wondered for a moment what Maddie had done for Harry, what Harry had done for her, I pushed the thought aside. It was to remain one fleeting night, an innocent game which need not have any bearing on the rest of our lives.
I glanced at Madison across the table as she ate her toast, but she had eyes only for Harry, laughing as he talked about the early days of his research, stealing car batteries to power his home lab.
Maddie and I spent the day taking photos along the marsh. We found a spot along the water, the light softened by the shade of the cypress trees, and I asked her to wade into the reeds a bit. I took photo after photo. Her white dress, the water rippling around her legs, the trees behind rising from the flooded lowlands. She said it was her turn. She grabbed for the camera and took photos of me standing on the shore. She asked me to carry her piggyback because she didn’t like the feel of mud on her feet, and as I carried her out of the water, I tickled behind her knees and we both nearly fell over. We laid for a long stretch on the sand and she asked about my studies, my family, about all my previous loves.
This was life for a few days—the four of us enjoying quiet company.
Late one night, as Maddie slept next to me, I heard my bedroom door open. It was closed again before I could make anything out with the hallway light, but after a few seconds I felt Madison slip beneath my sheets.
“Can I talk to you for a second?” she whispered.
I turned onto my side to face her.
“Now?”
“Are you busy?”
I yawned and shut my eyes. “Not at all.”
“You’re not exactly my first choice to talk to about this, but it’s just us in the house and I’ve known you the longest and I could call someone but they wouldn’t understand the situation as well—”
I let out another large yawn.
“I think I’m in love with the professor,” Madison said.
I cracked my eyes open.
“Love? Love love?”
“I think so.”
“With the professor or just Harry?”
“Both, obviously, but mostly the professor? His mind, his ideas. How surprisingly silly he can be for such an intelligent man.”
“But—it isn’t just the sex?” I whispered. “Harry’s body?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Think or know?”
“Think, I suppose.”
“If Harry’s body was out of the picture, would you still want to be with the professor?”
“I think so because I’ve tried,” she said. “I’ve tried sneaking into his room at night, just like this, and—well, surprising him. But he turns me down.”
“Turns you down?”
“Well, he comes in with Harry and whisks me to another part of the house.”
“I see.”
“But that’s him, not me. I’m very much attracted to his original body.”
As my eyes adjusted to the dark I could see her holding the sheet up to her neck, but in the gap between us I could also tell that she was topless.
“So maybe you love him,” I whispered.
“But that’s not good.”
“No?”
“No, I don’t think so,” she said. “He’s world-renowned, he’s brilliant. And sure I think he likes spending time with me—”
“I can usually hear how much he likes spending time with you.”
“That’s what I mean,” she said, slapping my chest, then, worried it had been too loud, she glanced past me to make sure Maddie was still asleep.
“How do I know,” she began. “How do I know I’m not just his little 24-year-old plaything?” She pressed her hand against my chest, then began to slide it down across my abs. “His slut nymphet?”
“It’s seemed clear to me the last few weeks that he has feelings for you.” I swallowed as she cupped her hand across my soft groin.
“Yeah?” she said.
“Love is a big word, I couldn’t say yes or no about love.” She rubbed gently as I began to grow in her hand. “But he clearly cares for you.”
“How so?”
“He took care of you when you were sick,” I whispered. She stretched her forefinger along the length of my cock, stroking me with her palm.
“I suppose,” she said, unconvinced.
“He laughs with you. He talks with you like a friend.”
I heard her shift a bit and then felt her second hand around my shaft.
“He felt guilty when you were upset about me going through your underwear draw—”
“We don’t talk about that,” she said, and she stopped stroking me as a reprimand.
“No, we don’t talk about that,” I agreed, and she resumed, hand over hand.
“Should I tell him?” She asked
“Tell him?”
“That I love him?” She scooted closer, the tip of my cock brushing against her panties.
“You’re sure?”
“I’m pretty sure.”
I was having difficulty concentrating. “If you’re sure then I guess you should tell him,” I said, the words spilling out without much thought behind them.
Madison held both hands in place, pumping me back and forth.
“I’m wearing the ones you like so much,” she said, glancing down beneath the sheets. “With the cherries.”
I looked at her, trying to steady my breathing.
“Do you want me to go faster?” she whispered. I nodded.
She held my balls in one hand and with the other began stroking me vigorously. She looked me in the eyes, watching me react. I glanced down beneath the sheets. Her breasts shook against her arm.
“Shhh,” she whispered. I kept from moaning, but I was worried Maddie would wake from the shaking mattress.
And very suddenly it was over. I struggled to keep still as my body began to twitch, I felt a sensation of release, a visceral secret held deep, and then, secret no more, I came. I came across Madison’s panties, the front of her thighs.
She glanced over my shoulder to make sure Maddie was still asleep, using her thumb and forefinger to squeeze out every drop.
“I’ll tell him, then,” she whispered.
“I think you should,” I nodded.
Forever Hung (Part 12) [sci-fi] [slow burn] [all characters over 21] [MF]
“Maddie?” I asked as we walked, her wide skirt nearly brushing each side of the hallway. “Is it you?”
She smiled over her shoulder but didn’t answer.
When we reached my door, she leaned against the wall. She ran her fingers over my arm as I turned my key.
I flipped on my light and she walked toward the bed. She glanced around the room as if this were her first time inside, but of course both Maddie and Madison had seen my bedroom before.
Still wearing her mask with the red feathers, the girl turned to me.
“Will you unzip me, Charlie?”
I approached her . I ran my hand across her shoulder blades. I took the zipper and slipped it slowly down along her spine. A band of bright red lace laid across her back.
“Can you step back, please?” She asked over her shoulder, holding the dress to her chest.
I did as she asked, backing away without taking my eyes off her as I loosened my tie. And when she was satisfied that I was distant enough to take her all in, she pushed the top down to her waist and let the rest of the dress fall.
She stood with her back to me wearing a bright red strapless bra, the same color as the feathers of her mask, the same color as her lips. A thin silver chain hung around her hips, and below that she wore a pearl thong, a tiny black bow tied where the string of pearls met the matching red lace.
She stepped out of the dress, her red heels emerging from the black fabric, and leaned forward, holding her hands against the edge of the bed so that she was bent ever so slightly.
I approached, unable to look away from that little black bow, the delicate, firm beads plunging out of sight between her soft mounds.
She looked over her shoulder. “I heard you’re obsessed with this, Charlie,” she said, slowly shifting her behind side to side.
I dropped to my knees and kissed just below the lace on each side of the thong.
“Maybe I’ve said too much,” she said.
I moved lower, letting my lips savor each patch of soft skin as it gave beneath the pressure of each kiss.
“Or it’s a ruse,” I said. “Maybe you’re Maddie pretending to be Madison.”
I nibbled gently along the pucker of her cheeks, where her supple rear first began to rise away from the back of her thighs.
She moaned softly. “You are obsessed,” she said.
She wiggled, slightly ticklish. I held her hips to keep her still, then slid my tongue across the pearls just below the bow. She bent lower and I moved my tongue deeper, tracing the strand of pearls into her crevasse where they disappeared from sight.
“Charlie,” she moaned. I put pressure on the beads with my tongue. “Charlie,” she moaned louder. She reached back to rub a hand through my hair. She pulled my face more tightly against her bottom even as she pushed back with her pelvis against my tongue. She let out a short shriek, then gasped.
Moving my tongue lower, I found that the single strand of pearls became two, one draped like a summer curtain along each side of her wet lips.
I turned my body so that I sat on the floor, my back against the bed, and leaned back to lick between her legs. The pearls rolled against each side of my tongue.
“Charlie,” she moaned. “Don’t make me cum.”
I tasted her. I removed my jacket.
“Charlie, don’t,” she whispered, grinding against my mouth.
I removed my tie, unbuttoned my shirt. I licked slowly, pressing a strand between the sweet folds of her lips.
“Charlie no, no, no.” She spread her legs wider.
I removed my shirt. I rolled two pearls against her clit.
“I can’t…”
Then I took the lace band of her thong in my hands. I gripped it tightly, so she couldn’t wriggle away. Then I pulled the pearls taut as I licked. Her chest collapsed against the bed. She moaned into the mattress. I took her clit between my lips, along with two of the beads, and swirled them together as I rolled the single strand of pearls back and forth between her ass cheeks.
Her pelvis quivered against my mouth. Her legs tightened, and she suddenly thrust her hands between her legs to hold my head in place, to keep my tongue in place. Silent as she shook, she eventually gasped for breath as if surfacing from the Aegean, panting as she whispered my name.
I stood and spun her around. She fell against me, catching herself with both hands flat on my chest, and smiled beneath her mask.
“I told you not to let me cum,” she panted.
“You’re so sensitive,” I said.
She kissed me and squeezed her hands against my chest.
“You’ll just have to do it again.” She shuffled to one side, her heels clicking against the floor as she turned me to sit on the edge of the bed.
She pushed me back against the mattress. She undid my pants and, after struggling to pull the band of my underwear past my erect cock, she ran a fingertip along my length as if seeing it for the first time.
“This might be our only night together,” she said.
She straddled me. I felt the tip of my cock pass between the two strands of pearls and she began to ease herself onto me, though she had to pause midway down my cock to catch her breath.
“Charlie, god,” she groaned as she pulled the rest of me between her legs. “I assumed,” she began, but instead of finishing her sentence she started to glide her pelvis against mine, the double pearls sliding up and down along my shaft.
“Such an actress, Maddie,” I moaned, watching the light glint off her thin waist chain.
She leaned down, the lace of her bra brushing against my chest as she took my earlobe between her lips.
“The Blue Horn. Last semester,” she said, struggling to speak between breaths. “I fucked that guy in the bathroom.”
I threw one arm around her waist, holding her to me as I kissed her through her mask, and with my other hand I hooked my thumb beneath the top of the pearl thong, rolling the beads up and down between her ass cheeks as I launched my hips against hers.
“Don’t you dare cum, Madison,” I said, suddenly desperate to make her beg, to keep her awake until dawn. “This might be our only night together.”
Forever Hung (Part 11) [sci-fi] [slow burn] [all characters over 21] [MF]
The great benefit of my transgression was that Maddie was no longer a secret, no longer an apparition bound to the night. She helped clean the lab, swam with us in the sound, and joined us for meals. She enjoyed cooking, a task which Madison, oddly, did not, and spent time digging through recipes in the library. As Maddie thumbed through Le Repertoire de la Cuisine, Madison sat on the couch next to her reading the poems of Amy Lowell. As he tended the fireplace, Harry and I played gin rummy with his vintage pin-up girl deck.
We took the sailboat out on the water for a change of scenery. Harry was the only one who knew what he was doing, and he occasionally asked me to keep the tiller pointed in this or that direction as he adjusted the jib or, detecting a tear, replaced the main sail altogether. The girls watched as they reclined on the bow, Madison whispering to Maddie as Harry heaved and hoisted. When we were far enough out that no land was in sight, each couple decided to take time to themselves before heading back. Harry and Madison stayed up top, jumping into and out of the water as their suits remained dry on the deck. Maddie and I went below deck, where she immediately forced her hand up the leg of my bathing suit, and where I slid my hands into her striped bikini bottoms, too desperate to grab her bare behind to bother untying the cloth.
“I told Madison about this,” she said as she sucked my lip.
“Told Madison what?”
“That you’re obsessed with her bum.”
“*Your* bum,” I said. “Am I?”
“Mm-hmm,” she moaned, wrapping her arms around my neck and pressing against my groin. “I told her I only have to arch my back just a tiny bit and then you’re on your knees trying to fit my entire ass in your mouth.”
I squeezed both cheeks at the thought.
“And what did she say?”
“That Harry’s the opposite. Obsessed with her—my—tits.”
I pulled the fabric of her top to the sides, held her bare breasts in my palms.
“Difficult to choose,” I said.
“Is it?” Maddie pushed me away. She laid facedown across the small couch beneath the starboard porthole, raised her hips only slightly into the air, and began to untie each side of her bottoms. And, just as predicted, I was ready to tear the fabric away with my teeth.
In short, we were all suddenly friends.
The professor and I received cards one morning, slipped beneath our bedroom doors. “You are cordially invited to a masquerade in the ballroom,” they read.
Harry and I both arrived at the designated hour in our best suits, though mine, admittedly, was a bit academic, while Harry’s was a bit academic and also a bit small. A pair of black masks that covered only the eyes were placed for us on a hallway table. We put them on and glanced at each other, each of us still clearly identifiable.
But the girls, of course, were not. We entered to find a ballroom lit by at least four dozen candles scattered across the floor at various heights. A waltz played from speakers along the walls, and as Harry and I ambled toward the center of the room, we heard the door open behind us. Madison and Maddie entered, their heels clicking beneath their matching black evening dresses. Each dress was strapless, billowy below the waist, but tight around the torso, and each woman wore an elaborate Venetian mask—far more elaborate than Harry’s and mine—revealing only their brightly painted red lips.
One approached me, the other Harry.
“Handsome,” she said. She placed one of my hands snugly against the small of her back, held the other aloft, and bid me lead in a waltz.
“Try not to catch my dress on fire,” she said.
The four of us danced as the music swelled. I was a little rusty, but managed to stay mostly in time thanks to a class I’d taken a few years before for college credit. But Harry, for all his talents, was at a loss. He stomped across his partner’s hem, bumped against the candelabras, and frequently paused to acclimate himself to the rhythm. His body was too cumbersome, perhaps, but I also got the sense that the professor had simply never been too at ease on his feet.
“Triple time, professor,” I shouted, just happy to have one ability I could lord over him, and as we passed each other, I took his partner by the arm and folded her into our twosome, the three of us forming a small, giggling circle spinning around the candles as Harry watched.
“Poor Harry,” one of the girls said playfully, peeling away to help as he tried miming our steps.
I held my partner against me, unable to tell if this was my original dance mate or my second. I stared at her lips, trying to detect some subtle difference between Maddie’s and Madison’s, but I couldn’t, and she gave a knowing smile.
“What was the name of that bar we all went to last semester?” I asked. “Where that undergrad kept hitting on you?”
She didn’t respond, and instead gave me a soft kiss on the cheek.
“Nice try,” she smiled, and then spun herself away to take her turn with Harry.
He’d improved somewhat, and for that he had been rewarded with a smudge of lipstick on his cheek. My new partner crashed against me, laughed, and we picked up our pace.
“What was the name of that bar we all went to last semester? Where that undergrad kept hitting on you?”
“Nice try,” she said.
We took a break after Harry knocked over a candle. He opened a bottle of champagne and the two of us studied the girls as we drank.
“Their shoulders are the same,” he said. “Their necks, their lovely jawlines.”
They sipped from their glasses, refusing to offer any hints.
“They stand differently. She has an arm behind her back,” I said, nodding toward one of the girls. “And hers is crossed under her elbow,” I nodded toward the other.
“Behind the back is your Maddie,” Harry said. “Too demure to be Madison.” He waited for a reaction, but still they gave none.
“Their masks are slightly different,” I said. “red feathers for one, blue for the other.”
“Blue is Madison,” Harry said. “Then again—”
By the end of the night, the candles nearly exhausted, we were no closer to knowing Madison from Maddie. I had held both girls, dipped them, smelled the perfume on their necks. And both girls had kissed the corner of my mouth and grinned when I called them beautiful.
“A final dance,” one of the girls said. “Gentlemen’s pick.”
“And whoever you’re with when the song ends,” the other girl said. “That’s who you take home tonight.”
The piano began to play through the speaker. I grabbed the girl in the mask with the red feathers and ferried her onto the dance floor. Harry danced with the girl in blue.
But after a few passes around the room, he grabbed my partner, knocking over another candle in the process.
“No time, let it burn,” he shouted.
The song built, and this time I grabbed Harry’s partner by the arm, he mine. The girls laughed, just as unsure as we were at this point of who would leave with who. Harry took my partner again, I took his, then we swiftly exchanged again. He lunged for my partner’s hand on the next pass, but I pulled us away, only for him to succeed on the next go round.
The music swelled, surely approaching the end. I looked at the enticing girl in my arms and, desperate for one last test, I kissed her. I considered the taste of her lips, the way she tilted her head, the way her mouth responded, the way her entire body responded, and just when I thought I had it, when only a few more seconds with her lips would have provided an answer, Harry yanked her away. I held the girl in red in my arms, and the music stopped.
Even now they dragged out their reveal, each girl sauntering across the room to blow out the many candles. When they were done, they took our hands. Harry was led in one direction, toward a guest room in the east wing, while I was led back to my bedroom.
Forever Hung (Part 10) [sci-fi] [slow burn] [all characters over 21] [MF]
I began to take more chances with Maddie. As she stood gazing at the sound one morning, I opened the windows and let her lean against the sill as I reached between her legs from behind. I pulled her into the pantry one evening, knowing Madison could arrive any minute to make dinner, then buried my head beneath her skirt as Maddie grasped at shelves to steady herself. I even tried whisking Maddie into the walk-in freezer for a quickie while Madison was out for lunch, but we both found it too cold.
I realize now that I subconsciously wanted Madison to catch us, to learn the truth. Not out of some moral imperative or gnawing sense of guilt, but because a part of me thought she would be flattered. Or that she might see how well I pleased Maddie and take me for herself. Or, perhaps most rewarding of all, that seeing her double, her identical self, bent over the grand piano might trigger some kind of kink. That the two of them—twins!—would corner me in the shower and take turns soaping my lust-forgiven cock.
I became so enamored with the promise of this fantasy that I may have pushed things too far.
One night, after a long day of work, I was returning to my room when I noticed, through a hallway window, an unusual light out on the sound, not far from shore. It was a boat, I realized, and while I couldn’t be sure, it looked like the professor’s sailboat. I fetched a pair of binoculars from the library and, sure enough, peering from my bedroom window, I could just make out Madison in the last light of day, sipping champagne on the bow as Harry carried a tray of cheeses up from the cabin.
When Maddie came up behind me, wrapping her arms around me and slipping her hands into my front pockets, I turned to her. I looked her over. Black cotton panties and a red sweater hanging off one shoulder. She looked very enticing, but I decided it wasn’t quite right.
Madison’s room wasn’t locked. It looked as I expected from the mirror, but opening the door I could also smell the scent of Madison’s perfume, a girlish mix of cinnamon and lavender. I led Maddie in by the hand and asked her to have a seat in one of the wingback chairs.
Her underwear was in the top drawer. A layer of simple white and tan options was on the surface, but resting beneath was a dense collection of more playful lingerie. Matching sets in various pastel shades. Silk nighties. Lace stockings. Bright red straps barely connected to any fabric at all. Much of it I’d seen, much of it I’d not. I chose an outfit, set it on the bed, and told Maddie I’d wait in the bathroom while she tried it on.
When I emerged, she was admiring herself in the mirror. She wore a gray university t-shirt with a deep v and the tight blue jeans Madison often wore to work which so meticulously hugged her backside. I approached Maddie and cupped my hand against her ass, the curving mound of denim feeling just as I’d always imagined. I spun Maddie around, pulled her against me, and slipped my hands into her back pockets, squeezing each cheek the way I’d wanted to so many times in the lab. I spanked her lightly and she pressed against me; I spanked her harder and she leapt.
I ran my fingers around the inside of her waistband. I kissed Maddie, then looked down between our bodies as I undid the button of her jeans. Unzipped them. The hint of her underwear peeked through. I yanked the jeans down over her hips, and underneath, the frilly white panties with cherries, the ones Madison had worn on the day of our arrival. I got down on my knees and gently kissed the fabric between Maddie’s legs. Gently licked against the fabric. Wet, the panties adhered to the lips beneath, and I kissed Maddie there to taste her through the frills.
I stood. Maddie panted faintly, leaning back against the dresser. I ran my hands along her sides, ruffling the t-shirt against her skin. My hands rose higher along her back. Over her shoulders. I took each side of the v-neck in my hands and, glancing at the design on the cotton, the same university logo that had been on my sweatshirt, I ripped it open.
Maddie gasped, her chest heaving beneath a pastel orange bra, the same bra that had reminded me of a creamsicle.
I slid the torn shirt down her arms until, reaching the wrists, I used the remnants to tie Maddie’s hands behind her back. I stepped back. I admired her eager body. Then, realizing she needed one last thing, I reached around to dig through Madison’s jewelry box. I found a long silver necklace with a spherical amulet on the end. I clasped it around her neck. I held the amulet to my mouth, gave it a single kiss. Then I let the amulet roll against and into her cleavage.
And then I undressed.
When Madison opened her door, we were on top of her bed. Maddie on her knees, leaning forward with one shoulder against a bedpost. Me behind, holding the shirt tied around her wrists. And the white frilly panties pushed to one side, my pelvis thumping against Maddie’s ass.
Forever Hung (Part 9) [sci-fi] [slow burn] [all characters over 21] [MF, MF] [voyeur]
I’ve no idea when the professor found time between his lab work and his recreational activities to make a double of Madison. The benefits of having two bodies, I suppose. But I felt no differently about the situation than I did when he had first proposed it. I found it highly unethical, an extreme breach of Madison’s privacy and autonomy, and I had every intention of avoiding this new double.
She only came to me at night, emerging from some secret laboratory of the professor’s like a ghost from a dream. Showering after work, I saw her through the fog of the curtain. The mirage of a dress dropped from her body. When she joined me, stepping beneath the shower spray, her frail blue bra and panties became gradually drenched, gradually transparent. She looked down at herself and touched her fingers to the wet fabric, as if realizing an innocent mistake. Turning her back to me, she suggestively held the shower head pipe with both hands, then looked over her shoulder, expecting me to unhook her bra. Which I will confess I did. I draped it over the shower rod. Then she wiggled her bottom, expecting me to remove her panties. Which I will confess I did. I peeled the wet linen from her skin and draped them next to the bra. But I ended things here. I loofahed her lower back, watched the soap slide between her cheeks, then left her to finish washing herself.
After my shower the next night, I emerged from the bathroom to find her propped on her side atop my bed. Pink cotton panties hugged the knoll of her hip and her breasts rested beneath a thin, half-buttoned crop top. She watched me as I dried off, biting her lip, and when I was done, setting the towel on the arm of a chair, she rolled onto her back, arching her knees in the air, and unbuttoned the rest of her top. She waited for me, and while I confess that I couldn’t kick her out of my room at such a late hour, I rebuffed her every effort that night. We shared an innocent bed, though when I woke, stirred by the dawn light, I was still erect, her hand cupped between my legs as she slept.
On the third night I woke to Madison’s double slipping beneath my sheets. I felt her delicate weight on top of me, felt her mouth against my mouth, and as my body began to react, I felt her slip herself onto my cock, the same enveloping warmth as our first time in the bath.
I didn’t stop her at first; half asleep, my hips rose to meet her. But coming to, I was prepared to do the difficult work of stopping, of savoring one final descent of her body onto mine before pulling away and leaving us both unsated. But over her shoulder, as she took long, luxurious rides along my cock, I saw through the mirror into Madison’s room. The sheet had fallen from one corner, and in the moonlight I could just make out her figure. She stood, one hand holding a bed post for balance. All I could see of Harry were his arms wrapped around her stomach.
As her double sat atop my lap, her pelvis grinding against mine, I watched Madison’s body shudder with each of Harry’s thrusts. I watched her toss her hair. Watched her slightly bend one leg. As Harry’s hand rose to squeeze Madison’s right breast, I reached up and felt the breast of her double. As his hand lowered to reach between her legs, I pressed my thumb to her double’s clit. And when Harry held Madison’s arms behind her back, holding her upper body horizontal as he fucked her from behind, I surrendered entirely. I threw her double back onto the bed, pinned her wrists against the mattress, and drove my cock between her legs with the abandon of a lesser man.
As Madison squeezed her knees together, one slightly over the other, her double wrapped her legs around my waist. As the sounds of Madison’s moans vibrated through our wall, her double arched her back away from the bed. As Madison’s tightly hanging breasts bounced in time with her hips, the breasts of her double quivered like the gently shaken surface of a fair and virgin sea.
The four of us came at once, unwittingly together, and I kissed Madison’s double to keep us both quiet.
Forever Hung (Part 8) [scifi] [slow burn] [all characters over 21] [MF]
Madison came down with a cold. Nothing serious, just the natural consequence of having sex in a freezer, I assumed. She spent a day in bed to recuperate and Harry brought her warm chicken noodle soup, tea with honey, and lime sherbet with ginger ale. She was perfectly fine the next day, fixing her own breakfast toast with fig jam in the kitchen. Of course, owing to the nature of their relationship, Harry came down with the same bug. We all thought it best to switch off the transistor for a bit and let the double spend a few days mending in the hibernation bath.
Madison was in the lab first thing in the morning, midway up a ladder, cleaning one of the bronze cisterns. She glanced over her shoulder when she heard me enter, wiped her hands against her jeans, and climbed down.
“Nice to have you back,” I muttered, barely looking at her.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Put me to work. I can make up for the last few days.”
“The cisterns are a good start,” I said. “Drain them and you can wipe the insides, too.”
She nodded, though I could tell she had hoped I wouldn’t be too sour.
“There’s a phase two?” She asked from the ladder, stretching to clean the far end.
“That’s what I hear,” I said. “You probably know more about it than me.”
“We haven’t talked much,” she said, then corrected herself. “He hasn’t told me much about the project, I mean.”
“All I know is we need to get this lab cleaned and start a new batch of organics,” I said. “The professor’s supposed to help as soon as your new toy is up and running again.”
She climbed down and opened the cisterns release valve. Water pooled across the floor drain, and as she waited for the tank to empty, she walked over to where I sat and put her arms around my neck. She gave me a kiss—very platonic—on the cheek.
“Don’t be too sore with me,” she said. She walked back toward the ladder, tying her hair, her lovely blonde strands, atop her head.
“Do you sleep with both of them?” I asked.
She turned, surprised by my frankness.
“They’re the same,” she said.
“Both bodies at once, I guess I mean.”
“You want to know if I have threesomes with the professor’s two bodies?”
“Isn’t that the point?”
Madison shrugged and climbed to the top of the ladder. She looked into the empty cistern, made a face about the level of grime, then began to undo her jeans.
“We’ll, I’ve definitely tried,” she said, struggling to pull the tight denim from her hips. Those transparent white cotton panties were beneath and, snagged on the pants, fell a little lower than they should have before Madison pulled them back up.
“I told him I’m very good at multitasking, very good with—” she glanced at me then cut herself off. “But he seems completely uninterested.”
She climbed into the tank and crouched below the rim.
“It’s like he wants to forget about the existence of his older body altogether,” her voice echoed from inside the cistern. “Wants nothing to do with it. Even for…” she stood for a minute, holding out her arms like a pinup model, then crouched back out of sight.
After work Madison retired to the library. Said she was looking forward to a quiet evening of reading with a glass of wine.
Forever Hung (Part 7) [scifi] [slow burn] [all characters over 21] [MF]
Much of the work that needed done in the following days fell to me. I toiled in the lab, monitoring neural networks to catch any unexpected effects from the sync. I ran diagnostics to ensure a stable connection. I ran basic medical scans. Boring, thankless work.
The professor – his primary body, I should say – spent most of his time lying in bed. The old form all but forgotten in favor of his younger, virile self.
A vigorous body consistently occupied with its new playmate. I saw the carnal spikes—more of a plateau, really—on my monitor and frequently heard the cries of Madison’s bliss through the air vents.
I often saw them through a back window, sunning themselves on the pier. She laid face down, the straps of her bikini top undone. They both seemed asleep, except that Madison drew small circles around his nipple with her big toe. As she began to retie her top, the professor—Harry, I’ll say—suddenly sprung to his feet, threw her petite body over his shoulder as if she were light as a towel, and ferried her into the boat house, the top left lying on the dock.
I watched them leave for a bike ride around the estate one morning, Madison’s delicate white dress caught by an errant breeze, flashing the yellow panties beneath. Harry, with his minimal wardrobe, wore a tshirt and slacks. They were gone for hours, and when I at last saw them crest the hill of the driveway, both Madison’s bicycle and dress were missing; she wore Harry’s tshirt and rested, eyes closed against his bare shoulder, side-saddle across his lap, as he pedaled.
Walking past the billiard room one evening, I thought I overheard them playing an earnest game. There were the cracking sounds of wood on wood, then one would tease the other for either missing or sinking their shot. But walking past the open doorway the next day, I saw two empty martini glasses, a curtain and throw pillows spread across the floor, an overturned bucket of ice, and two pool sticks, one broken, one intentionally unscrewed. A pink bra hung from the chandelier, and the pool table itself, built of sturdy oak, was broken, collapsed on one leg. The balls were spilled across the floor.
In the laundry room, I noticed more and more of her clothes torn beyond repair.
And of course there was the torture of our shared wall. Madison had covered the mirror again, but with only the single sheet, leaving me with cloudy impressions of their bodies In frenzy. I saw Madison’s ardent silhouette bent over the bed, both feet lifted away from the floor. I saw Harry on his back, raising her entire body into the air with only his arching pelvis. I saw Madison with her legs wrapped around a standing Harry, only there was then a flurry of movement, a blur of the light, and then Madison’s ankles were crossed above Harry’s head, her hair dangling against his feet. At 3am the same night I woke to a great rattling and, realizing it was the mirror, rose to see Madison’s back against the sheet itself as Harry plowed her atop her dresser.
“I’m not sure I’m needed any longer,” I told the professor in his study. Our conversation was slow and stilted, distracted as he was by other unseen exertions. He smiled to himself at odd intervals, closed his eyes for extended periods, and more than once stopped speaking mid sentence to take a deep breath. “Should we talk another time,” I asked, though I knew this was as good a time as any.
“No, no, stay,” the professor said. “I’m sorry, to be young again—I suppose I have let it distract me from the project at hand.”
“I’ve been monitoring and it looks like everything is stable. I think it’s safe to say the project was a success.”
“Phase one of the project was a success. Phase two—” he threw himself back in his chair suddenly, then collected himself. “I’ll still need you for phase two.”
“This hasn’t been the most academic of environments lately,” I said as the professor mistakenly let out a soft moan.
“She’s a very lively girl,” he said. “Is that what this is about? Miss Lounds?”
“You called her Madison the other night while you were spanking her.”
“We’ll try and be a little more private, point taken,” he said. “But you know, Charlie, if it’s jealousy that’s bothering you, there are solutions.”
The professor leaned forward and suggested that, if it would convince me to stay, he could potentially create a double of Madison. It would have to remain disconnected from the real Madison, of course, but since this was outside the scope of the official project, I could feel free to ignore that pesky orgasm rule. He only asked that I keep her existence under the radar—getting a DNA sample would be simple, and he didn’t necessarily plan to seek Madison’s permission.
“That’s abhorrent,” I said. “Shameful, unethical behavior and I’ll have absolutely no part of it.”
“Then if not for the girl, stay for the research. We’re going to push my technology to its absolute limit, and I need your help, goddamnit.”
He seemed exceptionally agitated for a moment, then exhaled a large sigh and took a cigarette from his drawer.
“Get us both a glass of whiskey, will you?”
Forever Hung (Part 6) [sci-fi] [slow burn] [all characters over 21] [MF] [consensual non consent]
The three of us managed to calm him down—though the professor and I had to calm Madison’s appetite, as well. Then, wrapped in a bedsheet, she lured him slowly toward the lab as the professor and I held each of his arms. The temptations she used to motivate him—a quick flash of leg, a slow suck of her thumb, a tight hug of the sheet against her backside—it was a wonder we managed to control not only the double, but ourselves.
“It is absolutely imperative that the transistor become operational,” the professor said as we set the double to sleep in the hibernation bath. “Charlie?”
“A couple days,” I said. “It’s close.”
“One day,” the professor barked, but then, uncomfortable with his stern tone, he added “as soon as you can.”
“As for you, Miss Lounds, I cannot stress enough how vital it is to resist any and all temptations.”
“Me?” Madison said. “I didn’t have much say in the matter!”
“Orgasms can have wild effects on the brain waves of these clones, to say nothing of the ethical implications.”
“Did you see me rip my own clothes off, Charlie?”
“Well you raise a good point, Miss Lounds, and I’m sorry, but until the transistor is up and running I must insist that you sleep in my room.”
Madison laughed.
“With all due respect, sir,” I said, “I’m not sure that you’d be much protection. It might be better if Miss Lounds bunks with me.”
“Are you the one with a doctorate in biochemical cybertronics? Neoconscious psychology?”
“We’ve shared a bed before, I just think she might be more comfortable.”
“Excuse me,” Madison said. “I will not be sleeping with either of you. I may have let myself get caught up before, but if he comes back I will calmly, firmly tell him no.” She crossed her arms, crossed her legs, and that was that.
Forever Hung (Part 5) [sci-fi] [slow burn] [all characters over 21] [teasing]
“You boosted the R levels too fast,” the professor said in his study. “I did the same thing my first time. Still! A success!”
Madison and I sat across his desk in our wet clothes, drying our hair with a towel. She dabbed at her t-shirt, a black bra showing through.
“Partial success,” I said. “We’re still having trouble with the transistor.”
“It’s the age difference,” he said. “My…less-than-peak brain cells, we’ll say, are having a hard time meshing with his. But that’s the job we’re here to work through!”
“Late twenties, about?” Madison asked, brushing her hair back. “Twenty-eight, 29?”
“Twenty-seven,” the professor said.
“Ah. Just three years older than me.” Madison glanced down toward her lap, then exchanged brief smiles with the professor.
“Miss Lounds, you should be extra cautious until my mind is connected to his. These doubles tend to be extremely libidinous when left to their own devices. A young woman such as yourself…well, you shouldn’t wander the halls in wet clothes for several reasons.”
“Of course, sir,” she said.
As we left, I offered to help the professor to his bedroom.
“Did you used to play football, sir?”
“Oh no no no,” he shook his head.
“Wrestling? Boxing? Bench-pressing?”
“None of that, always the academic type.”
“With all due respect, sir,” I said, “those ‘tweaks’ you made could also be interfering with the transistor.”
He began closing his bedroom door. “That’s the job we’re here to work through,” he said and gave me a wink.