Chilli breathed. “I love this,” she said. She looked down at Dave’s mouth at her lettuce patch and watched his tongue do its wonderful work. “Edge us as close as you can, loverman.”
Dave said, “Gluddle-luddle-luddle-luddle-luddle-luddle-luddle, mmmm.”
“Take it out of the earth and milk your huge cock off for me. I want to see it. Please milk it off.”
Dave pulled out of the crumbling earth hole and knelt close to her. “Here you go, sweet woman,” he said. “Haaahh!” Five days’ worth of sperm flowered out all over her stomach and breasts.
“Now me,” Chilli said. “Jab that wicked tongue back inside me — that’s the way.” She held his head and moved her cuntal hand in slow connoisseurial ovals, and then, making her fingers rigid, she DJ’d herself, as if her clit was a scratch record. “Nnnnn, nnnn,” she said, frowning down at her frigging self. Her hips lifted off the blanket. “Oh, that’s good! Oh, shit, Dave, I’m a pornstar! Oh, juice it, juice it, I’M COMING!”
Ned Undergoes a Voluntary Head Detachment
Ned the golfer had incurred terrible debts at the House of Holes, and he was called into the main office. “Let’s see your body, please,” said Lila.
Ned removed his shirt and pants.
“Very nice,” she said. “And the underpants, please.”
He stepped out of them with a smile, his jig swaying.
She looked at him for a long time, tapping a pen on the arm of her chair.
“Your body is adorable,” she said.
“My face is not so good, though,” he said. “Is that what you mean?”
“It’s a perfectly nice face. You mean well, you’re a nice man, but you don’t have that smoldering puffy-lipped look that a lot of women like.”
“I know. So what on earth do I do?”
“I would say that for you, with that body, the fastest way for you to pay off your debts is with the voluntary head detachment.”
“What’s that? I’d like to try it.”
“Think about it carefully. Your head will be removed and put on a wheeled pedestal. Kathy will roll you around and change your plasma bags and be sure that your electricals are all shipshape.”
“And my body?”
“Your body will go into one of the six headless rooms.”
“Okay, and what happens in there?”
“Your body and a woman will get to know each other.”
“How? My body won’t have a head.”
“No, it won’t. These are women who don’t want you to have a head.”
“Oh, I see, okay.”
“And your body will have a simple form of consciousness.”
“How?”
“We put a cap at the top of your spinal cord, and we redirect your nervous system. Your body will be able to think, in a very limited way, with your spine, penis, and balls. Your ass will serve as a neuronal proxy as well.”
“I see. Makes sense. Well, let’s do it.”
Ned took a pill and was able to remain conscious through the detachment procedure. He felt a faint tugging once or twice and then a powerful wave of vertigo. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them he was detached and positioned on the wheeled pedestal, his head strapped in a comfortable head-rig.
His body sat about ten feet away from him, in a chair. Where his head had been there was a low dome covered in artificial skin. Kathy, his pedestal pusher, was dressing his body, helping it to learn how to move with its limited neural resources. She rubbed the body’s arms, and it stood. She patted them. “Good bodyboy,” she said.
She tied a conservative tie around his body’s neck and then planted his body’s hands on her shoulders. She touched his leg, pulling, indicating that he should raise his leg, which he did. She held some khaki pants out for him, and the leg slid them on. Ned noticed that his body’s penis was unusually tumescent. This seemed not to trouble Kathy. She grasped his zipper, stuffed his equipment into place, and zipped him neatly up. Then she slipped a tweed jacket on him. “There we go,” she said. She turned to Ned’s head. “What do you think of your body?” she said. “Cleans up pretty nice, eh?”
“Kind of strange,” he said. “But I guess you get used to it.”
“Oh, sure,” said Kathy. “I used to work on a dairy farm. You just have to be patient and gentle, and sometimes they get excited. It’s just a whole other way of being. It’s very — bodily.”
“What happens to me?” Ned the head asked.
“My sister Cora, the headmistress, will take care of you for a while.”
Cora came in and put his head in a bowling bag. She carried him away.
Reese Visits a Headless Bedroom
“I want something where the man’s not always judging me and criticizing me and disapproving of how I dress and all that,” said the ethereal flaxen-haired girl, Reese, to Lila, in Lila’s office. “I guess I want a good-looking man for a fun brainless time in the sack.”
“Well,” said Lila, “we do offer the headless bedrooms.”
“What are they?”
“You choose a good-looking body whose head has been temporarily removed.”
“That’s horrible!” said Reese.
“Surprisingly it’s not, really. What you get is a nice friendly extremely handsome male body that is very responsive to any stimulation because it can’t hear or see or speak or think except with what it has, which is its spine and crotch.”
“I see, I see.”
“You and the handsome headless body are together in a furnished room for fifteen minutes, half an hour, or even a full hour.”
“Where’s the head during all this?”
“You never see the head. The head is safe in the headroom. Cora is the headmistress, she takes care of eight heads. We’ll put them all back on later.”
“And the heads have agreed to this?”
“Yep.”
“And the body can move and all that?”
“Yes, although some fine motor skills are not there. On the wall you’ll see some how-to posters that Kathy has made. They’ll help you handle these bodyboys, as we call them.”
“Let’s do it.”
Daggett led Reese into a room where there were eight headless men sitting on couches. They were wearing long Japanese-style bathrobes. Kathy smiled at Reese and offered her a seat in a comfortable chair. Then she touched each bodyboy, helping it stand and walk in front of Reese and then open its robe, showing off its chest and underpants. “I can have him pull down his underpants, if you’d like,” said Kathy. “He doesn’t mind.”
“Well, I’d kind of like to see his butt, if you’d have him turn around.”
Kathy guided him around and held his robe to one side. Reese nodded. “Very nice.”
She was disappointed, though. He was an extreme body-builder type with a tanning-bed tan and pectoral muscles that looked sort of like breasts except hard. She said, in a low voice, “Um, do you have any men who are more, you know, guy-next-doorish? Fit but not like a male stripper?”
Kathy smiled. “Ah, yes, there are a few. The first is Lonny, who when he had his head hung gutters for a living. Here he is.”
Kathy helped Lonny-body stand. Reese feasted her eyes on a headless man with a set of callused hands and a wiry strong build that had come about by work and not by working out.
“Then there’s Bosco,” said Kathy. “Bosco is a painter.”
“Hm, nice, trim, but too old,” said Reese.
“And then there’s Ned,” Kathy said. “He’s my favorite. Come on, Ned.” She cooed at him, gently nudging his arm so that he would stand. “Look at this,” she said. She pinched his nipple, and his arm flapped her hand away. “Ned doesn’t like that, see? He’s got a lot of personality left in his body. He knows how to move. Watch.” She stood behind him and put her hands on his hips, and Ned’s body swayed, his robe flapping.