am only in it on special occasions, such as when I am doing Rufus a favor. I have detached
myself from the need for the ‘thing’ entirely. I can feel perfectly well without the help of some
material tool. They’re disposable, and I am not. I am incredible, though.
That is a word Steen chose for me, and it has lovely double meanings of needing to believe. And
I no longer believe that physical attachments of a permanent nature are necessary—to me.
It took me a while to reach this belief, and I did not always believe I was complete without it.
After all, you could say that my rubber body was kind of my mother. I was born in it.
But it also led to some of the absolutely worst experiences I ever want to be subjected to and do
not wish to repeat. Such as popping, and being helplessly chewed. Such as having an itch.
One night after the show I had been on the Internet looking at underwear. Perhaps it wouldn’t
have affected me the way it did if I hadn’t been trying to figure how it would be to have these
strategic bits of lace and satin and so forth on it, but the old rubber self was crumpled and dirty
under the pillow at the moment, and I was a bit nervous about its general welfare because of that.
It might be too interesting if Steen’s little menaces got loose. So I went to find the guys, and they
hadn’t bothered to go out to any pub crawl; they were quietly getting drunk in the green room.
something. A sweet smirk let me know he knew I was there. I imagined I had on some nice red
things that tied in bows on either side of my nipples and little mittens of matching lace with holes
for my thumbs to poke through. A film of red gauze flowed down from the cups of the thing and
red elastic straps framed my waist and hips, clamped to the tops of sheer red stockings. In these
clothes I didn’t mind having no toes.
When he glimpsed all the red his eyebrows waggled, but still he said nothing, only sipped at his
drink and kept writing. Steen and the drummer and the keyboardist were there and he wasn’t
about to draw their attention. I just lay stretched out under his legs and smiled up, feeling the
carpeting beneath me and looking at the sagging acoustic tiles above.
Suddenly I could no longer enjoy the tickle of the shag under my back. My surface felt as if it
was under attack! The microbes of my unwashed self were choosing this midnight to burst out
and make inroads into my molecular structure. I flung my red baby-doll up over my head and
began scrubbing at my midriff with the little red lace mitts. In my own hearing it sounded like
scritch scritch skreak.
But that was not the only place I was itching—perhaps it was the imagined feel of the laces, once
so pleasant, turning to torture? Once it caught my imagination it was everywhere at once—
breasts, buttocks neck arms, waist, even down my legs under the silky smooth casings.
The itch really had me. I rolled my eyes up at Rufus and he rolled his back. For crying out loud,
I heard him say in my mind, that’s disgusting.
increasingly frantic rubbing. I was disgusted myself, but I couldn’t stop. I was spreading misery
and didn’t blame him for being disgusted as well. Some of the newer infestations of bacteria
were like a line of tiny nipples for demons. Too high and painful to scrub loose, they protruded
maddeningly into my epidermal surface as if they would prick it. Rather than dislodging they
would crater me. I felt as if the ones I did loosen were just escaping to become dust under me.
But while an unscratched itch on my torso remained I couldn’t seem to stop. Rufus merely
grunted and tried not to watch.
grimaced. They remained on the carpeting like a red spotted oil slick of discomfort, but I would
not get up from under his lounging legs. It was his spunk that started this. How were we to know
it could turn to this?
When he finally folded closed the laptop and stood up, swaying from his mai tais, I stood too and
let him brush my sparkles down. He hadn’t stopped the carnage I’d done to my imaginary body,
but once it was over he wanted me to feel better right away, whether the others saw him patting
at the air or not! No, his compassion helped to dust away the scraps and flakes. I sent him hot
gratitude for his stewardship for my well being, as the skin of my swaying body of light burned
into nothingness the nightmare of itch.
Parts of me touched the shag carpeting, and like evil insects the itch ran up me again.
“Oh no. Not again.” Davey looked at him quizzically when he said that, but as Rufus seemed to
be staring at nothing, he didn’t reply.
Cunt, I said into his mind, deeply unhappy. Filthy cunt, that’s me. Rufus uses that for his
ultimate swear word. He called his ex that and said I was different. But I was feeling pretty cunty
now. My self-disgust consumed me like a match shriveling at the heart of its flame.
I can’t help being a filthy bloody cunt, I continued. Steen was looking this way, ever since the
latest collapse, but I didn’t care. Did Rufus know how much it worried me when he called his
enemies cunts? Too much of me is twat and too little of everything else. I ran my mind over my
own miserable surfaces as if I were scrubbing at myself again, an inventory of the Heidi
membrane—cunt cunt cunt bloody fucking filthy cunt.
I felt black misery pouring off me into the ether from my entire surface. It dimmed all my
sparkles to gray. Happy masters of their own bodies like him could play with dirt and then just
go wash it away, make artistic facsimiles of the misery, this wretched decay, this consumption by
minutiae, and then replace all their follicles in their sleep. They were not chained to inanimate
ephemera. I felt as if I Was this gunky body, this truly horribly filthy disgusting worthless piece
of cunt shaped plastic wrinkled in the linens. I didn’t know how to let it go. It was the only life I
understood. So I cried out to the darkness to take me.
my misery and filth as an offering. I felt the black streams of it going down the gullets of a
hundred thousand tiny astral parasites, running out from me like a spreading ink stain.
Rufus was wide eyed. It’s one thing to feel black, and quite another to feel somebody else’s
black. “Oy,” I heard him say aloud. “Heidi’s in a mood.”
“You mean your invisible girlfriend’s in a mood?” Ole Lindendahl snorted. He’s the drummer
and it takes a lot to ruffle him. “My man, you have either had enough or too much!”
Hopefully Rufus had the laptop open, to explain why he was asserting such a thing out of the
blue. I wasn’t even looking at him anymore, nor paying much attention to the others, even Steen,
who seemed suddenly focused and awake.
“She’s rolling on the floor and calling herself a filthy cunt,” Rufus reported, as if he needed to
convince himself. I no longer cared much about anything except how the little leeches of
darkness were draining away my misery, and my awareness with it.
“What’s she got on?” slurred Murray Lin, with bemused prurience.
“Not much,” said my man. “She’s got her nightie rucked up over her head and she’s giving us a
full frontal.” He didn’t mention the hideous scabby patches of misery leaking darkness. Idly I
wondered if he could see them.
“Sounds pretty filthy,” said Steen, and from the way he sounded about to weep I could tell that
he saw, really saw. Something in me rallied and did not want to be obliterated after all. But how?
Davey Munsch spoke up, drunk as a lord and in a mood I had witnessed a good many times
before this. It usually had to do with groupies, that is, female fans equally inebriated. “We knows
what to do wif a filthy cunt, the proper treatment. Set her up Rufus me man.”
There was a moment of silence during which Rufus looked down at the state of me, his
expression quizzical. “Well, what about it?” Steen asked in a ringing voice, whereupon Rufus
met his eye and smirked. He pretended to open his laptop again. They were up to something and
I wondered with what remained of my wondering faculties if I would regret it.
“I’m sending her a picture,” Rufus replied to his audience. Indeed, a black asshole was
superimposed prominently upon my inner vision, with legs kneeling below it, his pictorial
explanation. Clear enough, and I truly didn’t care what they did to me at the moment. Darkness
is like that. Then he snapped his laptop shut again and leaned it up against the back of the
I felt him hauling me upright by one arm and went with it. I knelt up on the chaise longue, still
bleeding blackness upward into the night.
Another nudge and I was on hands and knees.
“There,” said my keeper, and moments later I felt the abrupt abrasive penetration of a not very
large dick. A rhythm was set to which I reacted so as not to be knocked over. Rufus kept his arm
between my head and the back of the seat, which was where Davey had put his hands. Other
hands grabbed my hips to steady my access by Davey the penetrator—it was Steen.
Rufus rubbed it onto my dangling ethereal breasts and he and Steen laughed too. I suppose it
looked like he was gesturing with fingers full of semen at the rest of the band.
“Was not and you know it,” retorted Ole. “Not in Steen’s neighborhood.” He just kept shaking
Meanwhile Steen had kept his hold on me and opened his own trousers. Rufus’ face began to
flush the sort of red it usually only gets when exposed to the weather, but he let Steen take me.
One of his hands began to stroke inside Steen’s shirt.
I could suddenly feel everything Steen felt. I could suddenly feel the way Rufus was nearly bent
double against the inside of his own trouser fly. What was going on?
As for myself, when the black tide had finally run away down the sucking gullets of the last of
the little astral beings, they floated away like spots on the inside of your eyelids and I was still
there, still bright, and now filled with two men’s love.
but any idiot could see what was happening between Steen and Rufy, even drunk.
Soon I was a happy film of sparks crushed between them.
I was pressed to upright kneeling against the golden orange hairs on Rufus’ chest and clenching
my insides around Steen. Gigantic hands opened and exposed Rufy’s penis as well and they met
in me, kept from touching each other by nothing but me.
Rufus didn’t bother to fondle me! No, he had Steen by the beard and was savaging his mouth
above my tiara. Incidentally it was lit up like never before. Something about the run-in with
darkness had given it new shine, perhaps as bits of tarnish lingered in its crevices for contrast. I
had never felt so solid, and yet I was rolled thin as paper between my men.
Steen’s hands left Rufus and twined with mine. He crushed them in his giant ones until I could
feel every finger. Yes, I was developing into a true goddess. And as he raised my arms as high as
they would go, still rocking against me and the counterpoint set by Rufus, I felt it. I was the
Goddess. I was blessed. I was a balance between the oppositions embodied by these two males,
both so powerful. It was as if the whole night lit up in a flashing spot between the three of us,
subsiding into glittering precipitate of every hue. I made a very loud shriek that made both of
them laugh aloud, and then their hips danced in me until their release fountained out in me, on
me and each other.
Rufus bent and kissed me on my immaterial o of a mouth and I orgasmed just from that into
another display of rainbows. It drove my head back against Steen’s thudding heart and sweaty
skin. Then down Rufus pulled my face and rubbed himself with it, as he has so often before, so
that I can taste him all over. Hungry as always for the taste of his neck, and his nipples, and his
navel, and the stripe of russet hairs he calls treasure trail. His penis, though, he denied me.
And Steen gripped my hips from behind so that when Rufus withdrew I couldn’t reach it. What
were they up to now?
I began to perceive the room we were in again, as well as the prodding Steen was doing at my
insides again. He hadn’t subsided at all.
fallen, scanning blindly as a newborn kitten for the direction of my dear lord. Steen was lovely,
but he was never going to be Rufus, any more than cheese could be soap.
“She’s looking for you yar,” Steen murmured, even as he rolled with me down to lie upon the
lounger behind me, those commanding hands keeping me round him. His tone was just snide
enough to intimate that I was cowed by the mighty Herren. As if! It wasn’t that he was
fearsome, just foreign.
I had never been loved by Steen alone, without Rufus there. The times I came at his summons
would be in the future. That is part of our whole story yet for me to unwind. Now he was a great
unknown, and roused in me very primal fears. Since he had my hips so tight, I had put my hands
into my own hair, not knowing where else to lay them if they could not hold my Rufy.
My two hands were joined by a third, yanking my head up at a new vector toward what could
only be my love. My vision cleared from its obstruction of panic and I could feel a smile crease
my face under my sparkling brow. It was such a relief knowing he was still there. He hadn’t
abandoned me to the unknown, any more than he had abandoned me when I was covered in gory
My devoted look prompted him to send a mental snapshot of the scene through his eyes. Steen’s
shirt and pants were open but he was still fully clothed and sticking his uncovered dick into thin
air which contained the sparkly me, though for Rufy I tended to fade in and out as my mind
wandered, or was it his? He was pretty drunk! My hips and legs were mottled with red angry
spots where bacteria were still eating, like a week-old scald by the sun that had left blisters on
Rufus’ back once. But the inky darkness no longer leaked away from me. I had my sparkling
breasts heaving around shreds of red satin as well as some dangling from my shoulders, left over
from my unfortunate lingerie show. My face was turned up to him in pop-eyed, shining relief
beneath his fist in my hair.
Why leave me with Steen? I sent my thought, not really caring what he would answer, now that
he had returned. It had seemed like an endless few minutes. He gave me a mental nod,
noncommittal, informing me that he’d had to piss, and was now enjoying the show.
upon the fist in my hair, dangling from it like a veil of gauze and bliss. I felt the furnace heat of
my man’s desire rising at the sight of the both of us.
Steen felt me going diaphanous and plastered me over himself like a wet sheet, yelling ‘helvede’
with sweat rolling from his hairline to his eyes as he came straight up into the air, subsiding back
into the chaise with a shiver. He blinked, and rubbed at his eyes and his upper lip. With my eyes
swiveled backward like that I could see that detail quite well. His seed fell back upon him, even
as my man pulled me to my knees before him. Steen was left panting and envious, flat on his
I perceived that Rufus must be kneeling as well, with knees against the edge of the chaise. His
hot hunger for me surrounded me like an orange mist. My mouth’s first contact with his lovely
milk and rose skin fell at shoulder level. Eagerly I tasted my way along his clavicle to the sturdy
angle of his neck and jaw. At the back of my neck I felt Steen’s sharp gaze on us.
For a brief time he let me nuzzle in that vital cleft against his pulse and the tossing of his head
and small sounds let me know he was appreciative. Yet all too soon I felt his hand on my
shoulder guiding me lower. So lower I went, licking and mouthing with my everted ring of inner
surface the wonderful texture of his chest hairs, hoping for a nipple, but most certainly finding
his left armpit.
Once there I wallowed and snuffled to get a nice load of his scent. I could almost feel Steen’s
eyes landing upon us like brushes, egging on Rufus in his reactions. I got a groan from him and a
nudge further down.
As my head was lowered I could feel my ass rising up into the air behind me, the scrubbed and
stretched and inflated them in the direction of our audience. I wondered if he could smell leftover
traces of himself from where he was.
Meanwhile my face was being slid gently over my lord’s rock hard, vibrating abdominals along
the hairs that helped it glide. The tube of my tongue substitute provided little impedance even as
I ran it into his salty navel in passing. My elbows contacted the chaise when my head was finally
deep in his lap. He’d sat back on his heels on the floor during this downward glide. Now he
vertical, a bitch hound on the scent of him even as he slid backwards.
He must have hit a wall or something because suddenly my nose and mouth were full of his
fragrant dangles. If Rufus hadn’t been so drunk he would have let me expand my mouth until I
could fit them all the way in. But it didn’t occur to him, and I frankly didn’t care. I am a
worshipper of his crotch. Like the hound I was impersonating I inhaled and waggled my head,
rolling in the wonderful aroma. He still wasn’t what I’m used to as hard, but that didn’t concern
me either. I tickled and sucked and nuzzled and caressed whatever I met with. My nose dug in
deep; my mouth grazed the hairs of his inner thighs. I got one arm around his mighty fencing
hardened thigh and held on as if it were a swim buoy as he began to writhe. Rumbling and
roaring was coming from his throat now and it gladdened me.
Just as I was flapping my poly hair into the juncture of his legs and pubis he grabbed me and
flung me back bodily, then dived on me to flatten his whole body length against mine. His
forehead pressed against my forehead as if our brains might melt together all over my tiara. He
was trembling like a saucepan on the boil and about to lose its lid. You, I whispered, almost into
Then his massive tongue shot out and he was kissing me with it and fucking me and only the leg
thrown round my waist kept me from being shoved halfway back across the floor. Yes, we were
on the floor. Things lurking in the shag didn’t trouble me one bit. He hit spots inside me that
only he can hit and my glad cries sang out like bells and whistles before I could possibly stop
them, telling the whole universe it was him, him, him inside me, me, me.
What a show for Steen. I suppose that anyone else would think Rufus was having convulsions in
the corner. Who gives a flying fuck? We had made wonder out of something truly disgusting.
Later, I don’t know how much later, when we were motionless, having used up our desires
against the bulwarks of each other, Rufus noticed Steen again, at ease and regarding us. He
dragged us up to the lounger and Steen held us close with a sigh. He lectured Rufus on putting
me away dirty, but the nagging could not dampen our content.
think it was quite natural to include him. I should have known. The link between the three of us
was already as snug as the o ring on a canning jar.