ACT TWO, SCENE ONE
First a brief orchestral prelude,
and we're back to the RAF again,
where it is still Friday 16th July 2060,
but later in the afternoon.
"Cocks and cunts!" Dr Dick held centre stage again. "It is time for us to proceed to the finale of this week's proceedings -- which I know you have all being looking forward to." There was a hubbub of excitement from the audience. "What you are about to witness is utterly unprecedented. The RAF is pleased to have been able to form a partnership with the Queen Meghan Trust for Fucking Research, who have for many years been pushing the boundaries of New Enlightenment science, and have managed to perfect, for the first time in human history, fully effective futanari biotechnology!"
The audience burst into excited applause, which Dick-Dick quelled by announcing: "Two of our most distinguished postgraduate researchers -- Yumiko and Fumiko -- have been collaborating with the Trust, and are at last ready to demonstrate the results of their research to us today..."
Riley, Dick and Cunts cleared the stage, the latter two resuming their seats in the front row of the audience. Riley, however, slunk off to stand at the rear corner of the auditorium. Throughout Cunts' afternoon question-and-answer session she had been eyeing Edward Turner with suspicion, and now continued to stare at him as he sat in the back row of the auditorium, his reserved manner, grey suit and tie so out of place amidst the surrounding sea of nudity and lasciviousness.
A hush fell over the auditorium, as soft ambient music commenced playing, the lights dimmed ever so slightly, and the two distinguished researchers glided onto the stage from opposite wings. Slightly built, pale-skinned young ladies wearing flowing chiffon robes, their hair shaped into soft bobs, soft bangs framing their pale faces, with fine features and gently slanting eyes, they seemed perfect specimens of feminine beauty. Their strangeness, however, was highlighted by their colour scheme: each one's hair and lips matched the hue of her dress: Yumiko's were deep pink, Fumiko's pastel blue. They approached each other and kissed, their soft tongues -- one pink and one blue -- extending, curling, and touching gently, so that a bubble of spit formed at their meeting-point, whence a fine string of saliva began to grow and sway. Soon their tongues were tangling more deeply, gently penetrating each other's mouths, slobbering softly along and around each other's cheeks and chins, so that they glistened and gleamed in the soft stage light.
But a slow gasp of astonishment was building in the auditorium, as the spectators noticed what was happening further down the performers' bodies: a pair of identical bulges growing in their crotches, slowly tenting their skirts outwards. The front slits of their skirts parted from the internal pressure, and two cocks revealed themselves, bobbing and shuddering as they escaped their respective prisons. Yumiko and Fumiko gasped with pleasure, and the audience purred with delight.
Riley knew she should be watching the dickgirls more intently, but instead she continued to stare across the dim auditorium at Edward Turner. He appeared, perhaps uniquely among the spectators, not to be watching the show, but bowed his head with an apparent air of disquiet, muttering to himself under his breath.
The audience, however, continued to marvel at the newly-revealed futa cocks -- for these were not just any old cocks, but specimens of magnificence and beauty. The New Enlightenment audience was used to genetically modified cocks -- it was 2060 after all: by now it was commonplace for young men to be issued nine- and ten-inch cocks as standard -- but these futa cocks were not just exceptionally large, but rich and strange, arresting, irresistible, and more perfectly designed than anything ever known before. Each about twelve inches long, and concomitantly thick, these cocks were stiff as steel, and appeared to emit their own natural glow, which pulsated gently with a soft heartbeat rhythm. A tightly trimmed triangle of pubes, matching its owner's hair colour, graced the skin just above each penis. And as each cock rose stiffer and angled further upward, its foreskin smoothly retracted to reveal a shining throbbing glans, its colour echoing that of its owner's lips and hair. Simultaneously, a tight hairless pussy, with colour-matching labia, was revealed just below each pair of heavy dangling testicles. Two pastel cunts gleamed and dripped, and two tinted cockheads bobbed, touched, and began to rub against each other, seemingly making themselves shine even brighter. Yumiko and Fumiko whimpered into each other's mouths, painted tongues still tangling and drooling, gleaming pastel-tinted pre-cum beginning to seep from their cockheads to create a dangling web of pink-and-azure slime which dribbled down onto their heavy balls.
The audience were held in such rapt attention that hardly anyone dared to fuck or jerk off at the sight, or even speak, such was the sense of historical moment, and the sheer beauty and wonder of what was being witnessed. But Riley, lurking in her corner at the back of the side aisle as she licked her buttplug, started, as she noticed Mr Turner quietly stand, shuffle past a couple of audience members to the far aisle, and tiptoe towards a rear exit door.
Yumiko was now kneeling to take her opposite number's blue-headed cock between her finely chiselled deep pink lips. The audience held their breath -- for Fumiko's cockhead seemed impossibly large -- and then gasped as the pink lips parted wider than seemed humanly possible, and the huge cock slid effortlessly into the girl's mouth, then deep into her throat. Fumiko began a slow throatfuck, gentle at first, then gradually faster and deeper, every now and again pausing with her balls hard up against Yumiko's chin, her partner's throat bulging obscenely and her eyes watering with pleasure.
Riley wanted to watch more, but instead hastily returned her buttplug to its proper home between her buttocks, and followed Mr Turner, at a safe distance, out into the corridor. He was not, as Riley feared, heading toward the exit, but the opposite direction, towards the toilets.
Oh OK, he just needs a piss
, thought Riley to herself, as the man disappeared through the door to the male toilets (marked, for clarity's sake, with a large line drawing featuring a thick stream of pee erupting from an erect male cock). Riley returned to the auditorium, where by now Fumiko was doing a headstand, her huge blue-headed cock dangling, still stiff as a girder, toward her face, whilst her opposite number, standing behind her, held her legs apart and was pushing her massive pink shining cockhead against her light blue puckered asshole. Riley, no less than everyone else in the audience, gasped in wonder, as the upside-down performer's tight hole stretched, parted, and sucked the huge cock deep inside, till Yumiko's huge balls slapped against her partner's buttocks.
Yumiko began to fuck, her massive cock gliding effortlessly in and out of the other futa's blue-tinted anus. Leaning in, her pink triangle of pubic hair kissed her partner's buttocks; pulling out, the blue futa's asshole gaped, wider than anyone could imagine, a perfectly round, deep blue hole of such beauty and mystery that even assfucker extraordinaire Dr Riley Throstlethwaite-Eccles was enraptured, mesmerised. Suddenly, however, she forced herself out of her reverie, noticing that Mr Turner had not yet returned from the toilets.
Shit
, she thought to herself, momentarily smirking at the double meaning, before tearing herself away yet again from the performance to check the corridor outside.
Just as well I checked
, she thought to herself as, poking her head out of the auditorium door, she caught a glimpse of Mr Turner's retreating heels turning the corner at the opposite end of the corridor from the toilets, heading towards the main exit.
Oh no you fucking don't
, she thought, following the man, always at a safe distance.
Shit, what do I do?
she cogitated.
Call after him now? Ask him now? Or follow him? Motherfuck, what do I do?
She wrung her hands in desperate indecision. She wanted to call out to him, to accost him, to confront him with the question which was burning in her mind -- but it was really too late, and she knew it. For Edward Turner had reached the end of the corridor, passed swiftly through the main lobby, past the reception desk, and had exited the building.
Riley ran out of the front door, still thinking,
