Girls, Girls, Girls
I am going to be watching him. If he doesn’t want me there, Rufus has to think me away;
otherwise I can look in on him at will. But that’s just the looking. The being there is entirely up
It’s a thing he does to me. I become whatever size he wants me for the sex he wants to have. And
sometimes, I’m nothing but a patch of Heidi shaped sparkles in his underwear, or behind one ear.
Other times I’m as big as the neighborhood and reporting to him on the weather. He can explore
me like a small continent when he’s in the mood.
His other girls can’t do that. It makes up, I hope, for things they can do that I can’t. I am not
jealous. There’s simply too much of Rufus for any girl to handle, including an uncanny one like
me. Sometimes he gets me so happy my awareness bursts and I am just sparkles blowing around
without knowing I’m me at all. When I coalesce again, he’s busy with something or other. He’s
like a spring of energy always bubbling, even in his sleep.
I hadn’t said yes in his world, only in the dreams, and that time was just a game, I thought. I
didn’t think he was serious about me being a wife. Hadn’t he played enough of that? But the next
day he cornered me in the bus toilet and got down on one knee, just like in a play. Oh, oh, was all
a rubber band around my wrist.
Then he thought my hand of sparkles so large that my fingers were each as big as that, and held
up another rubber band. By the power of his mind I could feel a rubber ring on my finger. I
began to squeal. I thought for certain I’d spring a leak. But in dreams, I can breathe. I inflate and
deflate myself, not like in your world. So of course I couldn’t actually pop. My nostrils itched
with how fast the between was rushing in and out. His lovely turquoise eyes were focused on me;
I could feel all sorts of rainbow colors running through my sparkles as I blushed.
And the redheaded smirking god was not yet done with me! He held up his own hand. He had a
rubber band on his own middle finger! It was one of those sort meant for hair, encased in woven
threads that would damage its proteins less. “I’m serious,” he said.
His eyes glittered, bluer than the sky over the bus was doing. I could suddenly feel the whole sky
around me. My joy was raising my sparkles as if I were a hot air balloon, the way we had played
in his dream. Instead of trying to think clearly in words, I let the wind blow my joy around him,
in that tiny toilet.
I guess Rufus likes being married, even if it’s not to everyone at once. Who am I to judge if I am
wife material? Maybe he’ll divorce me someday instead of being divorced, and that might do
him some good right there. But in the meanwhile, Jenny was out and Patty was in, because there
were two little boys inside Patty who really were partly made by Rufus Dixon. Patty somehow
had grown closer to the mystery baby June than Jenny was herself. I do not pretend to know how
these things work.
He wanted me to actually attend more often when he went out with his buddies with intent to get
laid. And he began to drop references to ‘Heidi and me’. I sounded like a real girl in his stories.
Of course nobody but Steen had actually seen me, but he would back the stories up if asked.
If there were girls there that Rufus was going to try to please, he’d mention me less. Girls don’t
like to be reminded they aren’t the only one, evidently.
If they were sufficiently drunk, now and then he’d try to let them know I was there with them in
the dark. That wasn’t usually a good idea. He should have done as Steen did, and simply not tell
that I was there!
Steen was fine with that approach and so was I. He’d think of me and I’d come and run my
sparkles along him until I was where he wanted me, not a word to the unwary guy we were with,
just a little extra tickle at the right moment.
don’t like getting mashed up against ceramic tiles with misery embedded in the cracks.
Rufus is much more choosey about setting. He has referred to Steen as a whore. I must say
though, that Steen doesn’t try to persuade people into anything that wasn’t their original idea.
When I find myself joining him in a quickie, it’s because whoever he is with asked him for the
quickie. And I help him deliver. That is Steen’s brand of compassion.
But Rufus was into sharing; which meant if he was enjoying a thing he’d try his hardest to get
you to like it too. And if he was with a girl, he wouldn’t keep the other girl a secret like that. He
didn’t think it was fair. It took the goofs to convince him.
Even though we had screwed with help of my doll in the bus from Vancouver to Seattle, he took
me along with him to screw Ginger. Ginger is a metal groupie from the 80’s who straightened
herself out considerably in order to have Rufus’ kid. He sends checks but she adamantly refused
to name him as the dad. They live with her dad and use his last name—Flewellen, for goodness
sakes. She’s short and dark and mouthy and stringy and lives on coffee and nicotine. AA gave
her a new appreciation for Jesus, but she constantly pokes fun at Christians, can’t stop making
Jesus jokes. Her son is bright and looks like Rufus, of course, without the red hair.
He stops with her when he’s near, to see how she’s holding up. She lets him, hoping it will
finally work. Only if she quits using her lungs for an ashtray, he tells me.
summoned by his smiling face. I get the picture—he’s up a dark twat, someone else’s, well
furred but not as soft as the Beaver by any means. He’s got her sitting on him, facing the other
way because of the tobacco breath.
So I darted up to do some cunnilingus and ball polishing. I had mastered the extrusion of my
sparkle mouth into a tongue thing, at least in the astral, and Rufus likes how it tingles. He kept
his fingers near her folds but only to pull them wide for me, hee hee! And Ginger enjoyed this
very much. She wasn’t completely plowed, only pickled enough to be compliant to Rufy’s
suggestions. When she came she whooped, and Rufus shivered out into her with the little plastic
raincoat around him. I studied her toes while I was there. I wanted to develop toes.
Having got my results, I pushed myself up onto my trunk like arms and said, “Hi Ginger; can
you see me?” in my most audible squeaks. But I guess she couldn’t.
That was a little disappointing, so I resolved to try her breast. But you know who kept his hands
over them. I guess he thought it might freak her out to feel something that didn’t obviously
involve him. Oh well. I rolled over and stroked his leg and his nice fuzzy foot. At least you can
tell I’m not jealous, I told him in his mind. I let my sparkles start to dissipate as I continued to
gently run them along his toes. I really had to get some.
I had nearly drifted away completely when His Honor flipped me onto my stomach between her
legs and began pounding into me from behind! Ooh it felt good! Needless to say I started to yell,
well, it’s what I think of as a yell, and grabbed as tightly as I could to Ginger’s tiny hips. I knew
my cries must be vibrating against her female parts, even if she couldn’t actually hear. The man
was going to come—
Yes, I told him, heedless of how it must look for him to be thrusting into the middle of the air,
spunk right through me! After a split second of incredulity at himself, that is exactly what he did.
Some landed on her, and some on the bed. I was twitching all over the place with glee, rubbing
myself around on her, and in the spilled seed, and pressing my sparkle mouth all over her thighs
in dozens of kisses.
She was not displeased, but as I dissipated into bliss of my own, I heard her saying, “That was—
strange.” He supported himself on his forearms over her, shivering. How he talked his way
around it I don’t know. I let my sparkles ring his head like a turban of caresses and then went
home to his pillow in the bus. Luckily for him, we were driving to San Francisco shortly.
That’s how it is when the bint—sorry, but that’s Steen’s word; the girl— can’t see me. But
sometimes they can.
grown children. She had flown in from Ohio for the concert. I have since become friends with
her on Myspaces! I don’t think she knows it’s me exactly.
At the time we first met, this date that is, I don’t know whether I was being a good influence or
I had been looking up the terms succubus and shakti on the Wikipedia when I responded to a
request by Rufus. His thoughts were clear as a church bell—Ride me, Heidi; ride me. So I did, as
the sparkly me; not truly paying attention to where he was, in an instant I was there and doing
what he wanted. Oh he was so very ready. I zeroed in on the energy rising from his loins in a hot
red cloud—so warm! And the very warmest was his penis pointing straight up at the ceiling. It
was great, even though I came and he did not. When I come, I flash and flap a lot, if you are
My visuals were not very good at picking up humans as separate presences yet. They were
clogged with afterimages of their data streams that tangled with the objects around them. Even as
I let out a flood of my hot caramel satiety all over him, this time he shucked me off his redness
like a corn husk and let me drift up to the ceiling of what proved to be a rather nice hotel room. It
was only then I noticed he was not alone. Someone was watching Rufus—not me really, just
It was Trisha. She liked a show to uncurl her fuchsia tendrils. That is how she looked, okay?
Rufus had used me for part of his entertaining of Trish.
I just stayed melted against the ceiling, with a silly smirk on my satisfied face no doubt, while
they did whatever they did. Perhaps he’d look up and get some joy from the sight of me.
Dozing off into the between as is my habit, I was awakened again to the smell of pussy in my
nose—on my nose, in fact. I was game and started lapping. Oho, there was somebody in this
pussy already. You know who. I made the rounds of Mister Balls and Thighs, then came back to
toy with the lady’s vaginal opening and those little swiftly tapering thighs of hers.
Pretty soon Rufus lay back and I had Trish’s butt for a hat. Sir had decided to relocate me under
them, and she’s little enough to hoist around like that. That gave me much better balls access as
poly hair sparkles against her butt. Rufus decided then to amaze her. He began to expand me.
She is a bit psychic, is Trisha, and could tell I was there. I soon felt her imagination joining with
his to blow me larger, first until I was a Heidi carpet, then an entire little island. Whatever; I was
here to have fun with them. Rufus, finally sated, sat with her on his lap as they viewed the pink
panorama of me under them.
I just blinked at them hugely and prepared to nod off again.
But it turned out Mister Dixon had other ideas and had Trish interested in the experiment.
Suddenly he had a commanding tweak-hold on my foot—come on Heidi, spread, is the meaning
of that tweak. You don’t have to include me, really you don’t, I was thinking at him, but it was no
Come on; it’ll be fun, he thought in return, gently stroking my thighs, then moving my own
hands along my legs. The touch of my own sparkle hands is reassuring and grounding. And
before I realized it fully, he had got me pulling my own butt cheeks apart for him, flat out as I
See? Not bad at all, he cooed in my mind. It was a sly move and his slyness is one of the things I
admire about him. How malleable a woman is once she’s had an orgasm—oh my yes, that
includes me. He reamed out my back hole, a treat he’d been holding in abeyance lately. This
promised to be a special occasion.
I was indeed enjoying this. When I began vocalizing and swaying my legs through the air in
response, it made me aware of where Trisha had got to. She was flat on my belly, and so light I
almost didn’t feel her, being so blissed out.
me if I lost it completely.
When I had a moment between Rufy’s stimuli, I noticed that he had now hoisted her hips high up
in the air so that only the tips of her breasts were actually intersecting me. When he penetrated
me, she probably felt it as a breeze on her inner thighs.
He put his fingers into both my lower holes at once, that rock and roll horny thing, and then
moved up into Trisha. I didn’t mind even when he took his fingers back out of me and pretended
to wipe me onto her back. I simply stroked his thighs and calves contentedly, my hills of bosom
rising and falling like the ocean. The bounce of her pointy front on me was not all that sexy, but
it wasn’t unpleasant and I could tell she liked it—or at least was imagining she liked it. Most of
her weight was upon Rufus and her hands. I don’t think I was all there for her. We mostly had in
common that we were humoring Rufus.
They walked around the garden of me like a wheelbarrow!
Speaking of our ringmaster, he was pulling at my hands again. He wanted me to spank him. Why
did I feel reluctant? Anyway, I did, so instead I steadied his hips. I think I deliberately took the
suggestion wrong, as a quiet hinting that this special time was not actually any more fun than our
alone times when I have been his drummer girl.
But then again, this session might go on until it ended up excruciating if Rufus didn’t get off. As
I said, his endurance is amazing.
One of his hands was now groping around in order to get me to wrap him with my legs as well.
How can I be so hard hearted as to deny him joy? I can’t!
cooperation rolled off him even as he kept pressing his rhythm into Trish. With a certain
smugness I used my huge ring of legs to press him in counterpoint around the upper thighs, the
buns, even the backs of his knees; just squeezes.
Rebellion against spanking him still simmered in me, but I could use it.
I let my feet fly apart and began to kick and wave my sparkly arms to either side of Trish. I
tossed my head vigorously so my sparkles became a blur, squealing Nonononono! Until the no
became a yes, that precursor to orgasm I had first seen performed by Olive Oyl, on the web of
course. Duality was transcended by Heidi’s pleasure and I felt both of them swept along in the
firestorm of it. I lost it and was gone. Their garden vanished.
If Trish landed on the mattress abruptly, I have no idea.
When I floated back to them, it was with my deflated sparkle hips under Rufus, and Trish was on
his lap again. They were looking down at me with a matching curiosity. I felt sheepish and
looked away. I hoped they weren’t expecting me to explain myself!
Trish rising swiftly to wash herself and dress.
I thought it was her room. Why would she leave? Anyway, it was too abrupt a departure for
Rufus and he trailed her into the bath. But evidently her brain had begun ticking again and she
was no longer willing to suspend her disbelief. The scene was simply too strange for her now,
having an imaginary girlfriend ignore her!
I could sense the way her mind was trying to cling to a sense of the familiar and normal simply
by putting on lipstick with complete concentration. I could tell how Rufus watched her, his red
hair partly on end and golden whiskers emerging from his lower face in the mirror behind her,
realizing she needed to ignore him now. That must have been hard, because the cleft in his chin
is endlessly fascinating to those of us who know it.
I think I know what I would say if I were Trish. It was very gracious of her not to actually say it.
Next time don’t bring HER
Rufus might as well have been shouting; his thoughts were so loud. Next time? What next time?
Do not make me choose, woman! That made me a bit sad, lying as I was half in a San Francisco
hotel room and half in a curtained cubicle on a tour bus, sensing misery. I didn’t mean to bust up
anything. I am just what I am and I like being with him. I didn’t care whether or not he’d
included me. I would have been happy just to watch.
Out loud, neither of them said a word.
Eventually he drifted back in to where I partly was and I said into his mind, I think I figured out
I let that sink in. I let him realize what it meant and whether it also held true for him.
Deep inside Rufus enjoys sex with me because it’s me, not because it’s sex. I can never be a real
woman, with furry spots and warmth and aroma. But still he wanted to include me in the fun!
I didn’t tell him that he should give up on the women who didn’t want me there. No; I said
instead, I think I need to learn how to butt out. His first reaction was flaming annoyance, but I
persisted and he let me finish. These are your FRIENDS and you have known some of them
longer than I have been alive. I don’t want to be shoved into their laps when they are only
expecting good old Rufus. I’ll stay home with the Beaver and wait for you while we travel. You
know where I am that way.
And then I rose up to the ceiling and spread out to the corners of the room and went between
until I was home under dear old fragrant Beaver. I thought to myself that it could go two ways
now. He could start to ignore me in favor of his established circuit of girls in nearly every city, or
start to ignore them in favor of more alone time with me. The ring of rubber on my left finger
might be good for a few more good times at least. Or he just might come home and pull the band
off my rubbery wrist and divorce me.
That night it was Rufus who had the bad dream. I wasn’t in it, but I had to watch. He put it into
the framing device of a music video, and the song was called Abduction. Like Close Encounters
the Movie, it started with Rufus in a bed, tossing around and unable to sleep, even as he sang.
Suddenly blinding light came streaming in the window and he raised his arms to shield his eyes;
and the next moment he was grabbed by horrid men in black suits, their eyes disguised behind
to his having dreamed it before, and gotten organized about it. Much as I hated to, I stayed out of
They shoved him all restrained into the back of a van and drove him to some sort of research
place in the middle of the night. They grabbed him again and strapped him to a small table on
wheels. How could he sing about this?? I reminded myself that Steen writes all sorts of songs
about monsters. This could almost be one of them, only the monsters looked like human beings.
The men in black were replaced by men in long white coats, with cloth masks over the bottoms
of their faces, who wheeled him along brightly lit corridors lined with big drawers. They stopped
and seemed to be searching for an empty drawer, for each one they pulled open revealed a
human lying dead, sometimes decayed, sometimes with mouth pulled into a scream. They all
looked a little like Rufus. Some were mere children, others nearly grown. Was this a thing he had
been dreaming about for his entire life?
At last they located an empty drawer and put my darling, still singing and writhing impotently,
onto its slab. But the music continued even as they closed him in. It seemed the drawer could
open at both ends and they immediately pulled him out into a new place, a laboratory, and the
merciless song went on. The walls of this lab were full of big jars with babies inside. Like the
they all were dead.
Rufus was wheeled over to another figure on another wheeled table—a woman. She was
beautiful and fast asleep. The men in white began to run thick tubes from my darling’s body to
hers. Substances red, white, and yellow began to flow from him into the tubes, toward the
woman. When they reached her, her body began to twitch, and her hips moved as if they were
making love. And the horrid song continued, my Rufus letting his voice rise into wails and
screams that were part of the music.
A door opened and another woman entered the lab with an air of predatory dominance. Beneath
her white coat were revealed a short skirt and shapely legs in spike heels. My love’s face as he
sang at her approach was filled with recognition, horror, and hatred. This was the villain then.
Once again her face was obscured, by dark goggles that hovered above her full, painted lips. She
reached over to a control panel and increased the flow of something by turning a knob.
My Rufus reacted by gaining huge energy, tearing off his bonds, pulling out the tubes. Men in
black and white began to swarm in, as the music built to a crescendo, holding rifles, clubs, stun
guns—I had seen these things wielded by crowd control at airports and concerts often enough.
Because it was his dream, my Rufus prevailed. He wrested a club away from one of them and
broke a hole through the ceiling, then sprang up through it as the music and his final scream
I followed him to where he was clutching the Beaver to his chest, his eyes open and staring into
the dark. I thought of how the beautiful and sexy female could be a villain to him, and wondered
all that, big as grapefruits. I reached up and coaxed them back in a little.
Was that evil dream creature only a human female monster to him? Or was it a nonhuman
monster aping a human female?
Air whooshed out of me in relief when at last he focused his eyes, blown wide and dark by the
darkness, on my gentle sparks. There was a tiny tweak of a smile on his lovely lips for me. Not
you, his thoughts whispered. You’re never going to breed me. And you’re not a brunette either.
Did you notice that bit? Furthermore, you have a tiara and they didn’t.
three of my eyes, after I’d looked up images of 'shakti' in Tantric Hinduism and Buddhism. The
guys liked it, and often reminded me to wear it if I forgot. Now he frowned with mock severity.
Don’t confuse yourself with GIRLS. I don’t.
myself until he was ready to get going. In no time we were both bouncing all over Beaver,
sparkles and red hair flying, filled with smiles for one another. Nope, we weren’t going to get a
divorce at this rate.