07

Chapter 6.

Academic Distinction.

The next day Coco received a message from Professor Flynn-May, asking her to come and see him after work.

"Maybe I'm in trouble now," she said to Hazel.

"Bound to be some comeback eventually ..." said Hazel, "... but it's been quiet so long they can't be too upset."

Coco walked over to the academic block, found the room and spoke to the Professor's receptionist. She sat, and was called in five minutes later.

"Please sit down Courtney ... may I call you Courtney?"

"Yes Professor."

"You were the talk of the hospital a short while ago... you probably realise that?"

"Yes."

"In connection with your appearance in a ... glamour ... magazine ...

...I was shown a copy by one of my colleagues ... slightly scandalous ... there was some discussion about disciplinary action."

"Oh ... really."

"Yes ... but then your interview in The Fitzrovia Community News ... putting it in the context of radical Christian and Nude Feminism ... won some colleagues over ... and the others saw the complications that disciplining ... radical Christian and nude feminism ... might involve ... also ... there was ... let's say ... popular support for your art."

"Thank God for that."

"Yes ... but I cast a professional eye over your work ... I'm Professor of Gynaecology you know."

"Yes."

"Since you're serious about your art ... I was wondering if you'd be interested in doing some academic work?"

"I would ... but I know very little about gynaecology right now."

"Oh ... it's not research ... I'm editing a new edition of Modern Gynaecology for Medical Students ... and I want to make it more modern ...

... In place of line drawings and grubby black and white photos ... I'd like to have full colour photographic plates ... the idea is to take high resolution photos and ... with the help of Photoshop ... use medical photos to give a vivid impression of what the professional should expect to see ...

... I could see you have very healthy generative organs ... and I wondered if you would model for the plates."

"How many photos would that be?"

"There are 240 illustrations in the last edition ... the new will have about 300 ... but we could do a few hours every week ... I'm authorised to offer around £120 per hour."

"120 quid an hour ... for pussy popping ...I'll do it."

"Pussy popping ... you appreciate then that the photos will be very intimate ... but they will be educational ... and viewed by professionals."

"My husband'll get a copy to put on the coffee-table ... just in case a medical professional drops by."

"Hu- huh- so you expect him to be supportive ... that's good."

"He's very ambitious for me."

"Excellent ... and the publishers are into multimedia ... there'll be a CD included in the paper edition ... and web-links in the digital version ... to explain structure and procedures ... would you like to do the video work?"

"I suppose ... I would ... I've never done video work professionally."

"I will all be very professional."

"And what do I get ... academically I mean."

"You'll be entitled to full credit for your modelling work ...

'The editors wish to thank Courtney Blyth, Registered Nurse, BSc(Nursing) etc...'

... you'll have graduated and been registered before it goes to press ... '

...for her cooperation in producing the outstanding illustrations which are a standout feature of this new edition and to which she has made a major contribution.'

... that sort of thing ... then there'll be a number at the base of each photo ... which relates to an index where you can look up credits for model ... photographer and digital artist."

"That sounds cool ... and how long will this edition run?"

"The last one was current for 25 years."

...

After the next weekend they met for a drink; Colin had word of a pop-up.

"It's going to take place in and old venue which closed down ... it's been vandalised inside ... had squatters at one time ... but the crew have access and will supply booze and drugs ... it kicks off at about midnight."

"Sounds hellish ... do we just turn up," said Nick.

"Yeh ... when we get the invite ... we pass it around and show it at the door ... get into costume first ... we can get the masks and costumes at a hire shop."

"I'm going to be masked for this ... and in my academic work only my pussy is seen," said Coco.

"What's the problem?" asked Jack.

"Sleaze."

"Why is that sleazy?"

"The point is ... it's not ... at least not supposed to be ... just because you can't see my face."

"Not because it's meant to be educational and artistic then?"

"Well ... if you could see my face ... see I was enjoying it ... then it would be porn ... wouldn't it."

"Well you won't be enjoying it ... will you," said Jack.

"Fuck yes ... I'm dribbling now."

'Want to go home ..."

"I don't think necessarily ..." said Tim, interrupting Jack, "... not if it was essential to the artistic statement."

"And it's obvious that some girls enjoy a gynaecological examination ... without looking at their face ..." said June, "I can hear something dripping on the floor."

"They're going to get a lot of drool from me ... but they want that ... that's gynaecological realism ... that's what they want ... realism," said Coco.

"Oh ... YOU DO get aroused," said June.

"Does he do it with his dick," said Jack.

"He keeps his Latex gloved dick in his pants and uses his Latex gloved hands ... heavily lubed ... slippery and sexy," said Coco.

"I'll try that tonight," said Jack.

"And I get an academic credit for that ... it's the icing on the cake."

"But you think a face expressing enjoyment makes it porn ..." said June "... what if the face shows it's not enjoyed ... does that negate porn."

"Rape ... then it's a statement of feminist resistance," said Coco.

"Or specialist porn," said Colin.

"Or Japanese porn," said Derek.

"The sort of stuff you collect then," said Fiona.

"Come over and we can watch my porn collection together ... I'll cook you dinner first."

"Have you got an expensive carpet I can throw-up over?"

"I've got silk sheets."

"Fuck off ... Anyway wank-shots have to be a bit sleazy..." said Fiona"... there must be something to jack-off over."

""That's ... must wank ... not may wank ..." said Colin, "... guys may wank-off over tasteful pictures of naked women ... but the wank-shot makes it mandatory ... you want to wank from cover to cover ... you've paid for all the magazine ... but there should be key shots you have to come back to ... to climax ... those are the sleazy shots ... the girls face seductive and provocative."

"Provoking a wank?" said Fiona.

"Provoking a convulsive ejaculation ...the tasteful shots are the foreplay ... the wank-shot creates a point of no return."

"Really ...there's so much in the art of publishing you're not really aware ... isn't there ... did you work in publishing."

"Yeh ... for a couple of years."

"Sub- editor."

"Nah ... they'd send me the proofs and I'd do the wank ratings."

"Thought you'd have liked that ... why'd you change jobs."

"Industrial injury ... but I'd prefer not to go into that."

"OK," interrupted Coco, "So art is a discretionary wank ... and porn is a mandatory wank ... well I like to think all my shots are worth a wank ... if you feel you MUST wank ... isn't it just a better shot in some way?"

"Do you want to be an art installation ... or do you want to be a porn model?" asked June.

"I just like to be appreciated ... I like to show off ... that is ... to create an effect ... but is it me showing off that makes it porn ... or is it the context ... I get a buzz from the thought of generations of students studying my pussy ... but that doesn't make it porn ... it's still educational ... and I hope loads of them jack-off over my gynaecological shots ... for some it'll be discretionary ... for some mandatory."

"Or jill-off ... what if the student is female," said Fiona.

"Cool ... I'll mention that to the Prof ... maybe he can make a video of Jack having a catheter inserted ... you see a lot of boners doing that ... 'it's just a reflex sir ... no need to be embarrassed ... and it's easier if your erect'."

"So you think the beholder can make it porn?" said June.

"Well I hope so ... there's loads of gyno-porn ... just not real doctors and patients ... but I don't think I'm sleazy even if I do enjoy it ... maybe it's porn for the med students who wank ... maybe it's dual purpose."

"Not sleazy ... just versatile," said Jack.

Author's Note:

I would wish to thank SpaderFly for his inspirational posts on Literotica. He is my Muse and I acknowledge his contribution to making me a better, less vanilla, person.

All or any restaurants mentioned herein are fictitious works of creative imagination and I imagine they have had the plumbing fixed by now. I know they no longer serve dog, I've just checked the imaginary menu.

Chapter 7.

The Rape of Prosperina 2021 Edition.

"It's 140 Old Gasworks Road E18 ... closed club called The Gasworks ... kicks-off at midnight ... parking around the back ... I'm sending the invite to all members," said Colin.

"This an underworld function then,' said Jack.

"Literally ...Yeah ... a guy called SpaderFly ... a total prince of darkness ... Ideal for the Rape of Prosperina ... into things you could only have nightmares about ... things you'd only whisper cringing."

"What sort of things ... no need to cringe?"

"Blood orgies ... any sort of blood play ... truly perverted stuff."

"Does he have a dog."

"Excuse me if I cringe now," said Colin, "I don't like the turn this conversation's taken."

"No ... I was thinking of getting something for the dog ... a present to ingratiate ourselves ... a chew-stick would have been nice ... you know how people are about their dogs."

"He's into blood ... what about blood-pudding ... that'd be a nice touch ... cheap as chips ... just hosed down from the abattoir flour ... small amount of urine and faeces as well ... evaporated and extruded into sausage skin ... very versatile."

"That'll do ... don't want to be thought an arse licker."

"To him... even licking his arse is too vanilla," said Colin.

***

Come the day, Jack, Coco and Colin were in costume sitting in the pub, with June, waiting.

"Been thinking," said Coco, "about this Indian Zeus ... African victim and European rapist ... thing."

"Yeh."

"I mentioned I'd done cultural sensitivity training ... well ... there are issues."

"Yeh."

"It's best if you get the African victim gig ... June ... you're the only black girl in the club."

'Fuck off ...you're claiming Honkey Privilege ... the black girl has to be the victim."

'What do you want me to do ... go Blackarse ... do you follow ... Did you see what happened to that Canadian guy ... the prime minister."

"Justin Beiber."

"Yeh ... almost cancelled ... for playing an African Prince with a black face ... with a black face."

Colin noted, "Some people will complain whatever ... look at Idras Elba ... plays a white detective with black face... his own face... not a victory for non-discriminatory casting ... he's criticised for playing Whitefood."

"No one will see your face ... you'll be wearing a Tragedy mask," said Jack.

"And that makes it OK ... you can go Blackarse so long as nobody can see your face."

"Should be."

"Yeh."

"Yeh."

"And we can play Chinesefood later."

"Good."

"Great."

"Yum yum."

"That's Thai."

"Fuck off."

***

As they approached the club they masked up. They applied luminous body paint to the masks to improve visibility in the dark lighting of a club

.

SpaderFly was leering on the door, giving every entrant the evil eye. Even amongst the drunks, drug addicts, students and young professionals who patronised these illegal pop-ups the Flash-Mob Photo group looked curiously weird.

SpaderFly held out his arm, "What brings you fuckers here tonight?"

Jack cleared his throat, "Uhhh ...Rape we're going to do a rape ..."

"Gangbang?"

"NO ... no ... just one-on-one ..."

"I hate you vanilla types."

"Oh ... we've brought you a gift ... "Jack grabbed something from his bag and held it out.

SpaderFly leaned forward and peered.

"Is that the big black dildo Harry Hatchet used to beat a snitch to death in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking barrels?"

"Shit ... better than that ... he dived back in his bag ... where the fuck is it," he was beginning to sweat.

Coco stepped forward, "Here it is ... it was in my bag ... it's Blood Pudding ... we thought you'd like it."

Placated and smiling his evil grin, he graciously accepted it, then held it under Jack's nose, "What's that smell."

"Ahh ... shit."

"You've an annoying habit of answering every question with 'Shit" ... I'm beginning to dislike you."

"I mean pig shit ... I believe small amounts of faecal matter are permitted under the Brexit deregulations ... they slaughter mostly pigs -"

"I know what we slaughter ... I own the abattoir ... lots of blood play in the abattoir you know."

He lifted the gift to his nose, inhaled and chuckled, "That's definitely human ... at least you've brought me a decent gift," he looked at Jack, "... but I still don't like you," then he looked the girls up and down, "but I do have a soft spot for black ass."

"Oh this is only make-up," said Coco, nervously.

"I'm not talking to you."

"We'll we're falling far behind schedule ... we'd better crack on," said Tim, grabbing June's arm and hurrying her inside.

Inside, the strains of 'Beaten to death with a big black dildo' filled the air and early partygoers were lying on the floor throwing up over themselves.

"Well how do we find our set," asked Tim.

"Like in The Dilo ... look for the staircase with urine running down it ... follow up-stream," said Jack.

"Can't fault the food though. Very authentic."

"Who knows ... since you don't know what you order 'cos the menu's in Chinese ... they could give you anything ... probably just hand plates out at random ... the refugees from rehab who wait aren't capable of much else ...that's why they're so fast."

"I've always had a good experience."

"Yeh ... everything goes better with Coke."

"We'll check it out later."

***

They found a toilet cubicle with no door or walls or seat, grafitti on the walls, unidentified adhesive matter spattered everywhere and a pan half full of previously unidentified forms of shit.

They began to strap Coco up under a notice some wit had put up saying, 'No Shitting Here'.

"Shurely shum mishtake," said Jack in an incredibly bad impression of Bill Deedes.

An hour later everything was set up.

Everyone was 'in part' and the cameras were ready to roll.

Coco, in her Tragedy mask, quivered on the toilet pan, fastened firmly into a full nelson.

Jack in his Comedy mask and Halloween devils horns hovered maliciously and his dick quivered before him, in deadly intent.

Colin smiled benignly, white scarf draped, priest style, around his neck, with his right hand raised in blessing.

Tim and June consulted. June cleared her throat to issue the traditional command, 'Cameras Roll'.

"Cameras ..."

A massive goth girl, must have been in excess of 200lbs, moving at a speed you'd think impossible for a human of that weight, crosses the curtilage of what at one time formed the boundary wall of the toilet and, at warp speed, heads for the porcelain to which Coco is secured, throwing back her head.

"Roll."

The goth girl screeches to halt and retches forward emitting a projectile vomit of titanic proportions, once, twice, three times.

Full credit. She's at speed and spot on. In another world, the Underworld perhaps, she could have been an Olympian. I know that under less pressure I've missed the bath and soiled the linen cupboard on a number of occasions.

Colin, totally nonplussed, but in part, recites his dialogue robotically.

When she finishes vomiting, the toilet area is hushed. The only sound is of feet splashing up the staircase and SpaderFly bellowing.

"Where's that fat cunt ... she's like a greased pig ... did someone set fire to her flatulence ... she's moving like she has an afterburner."

Everyone looks at Coco.

She looks like someone has taken the trash bin from outside JunkFoodIsUs after closing time and topped it off with 2 cans of Party7, 18 g'nt's, 4 bags of peanuts, more than that of pork scratchings and a pot of fingernail cuttings from a nail bar, then, for a laugh, thrown in three dozen golf balls, and stirred for 3 days before pouring it over her.

What an absolute fucking mess.

Every one except Coco irrupts into hysterical laughter.

It was a 'Death of Little Nell' moment: you'd have to have a heart of stone not to laugh.

It's short lived.

SpaderFly bursts in at speed, steps on one of the golf balls in its little latex coat, and falls on his arse.

Jack shoots out a hand to help him up.

"Who the fuck are you ... you strange looking fucker?"

Jack starts to explain, "Ohh ... I'm Pluto ... King of the Underworld -".

"Are you FUCK ... I'M the King of this underworld."

Jack bit his tongue and started again, "Shit ... I'm"

"I remember YOU ... YOUR that annoying little vanilla fucker who answers every question with 'Shit' ... get that mask off or I'll wipe the smile of your face."

Jack took off his mask.

"Is this miserable looking bitch the girl you're going to rape," he loosened his clothing and pulled out a remarkably harmless looking penis, "I fancy a little black ass ... let's get this done so I can get back to my business which you've rudely disrupted."

"NO ... no-one gets raped ... it's just a tableaux .. you know ... a depiction," said Jack.

"I remember asking you if it was a gangbang and you said 'no ... a one-on-one' and I let you in on that basis ... now you tell me it's not even a one-on-one ... it's a fantasy one-on-one."

"Technically ... that would be correct,' said Tim.

"You spineless little vanilla fuckers ... You could have dared to dream ... to recognise your true desires ... and I would have helped you achieve them ... you had only to say the word to me ... Instead ... you're in denial ... you lie even about being vanilla ... you're spineless little turds ... not even vanilla ... you lie your way in ... squat on the only forbidden site in the whole building ... fuck up my biggest drug drop in three years ... yes ... I'll show you what it means to dare to dream ... to grow a spine ... I'll show you a little blood play ... on the margin of life and death ... my taboo fantasies."

He quickly stripped and pulled the blood pudding from his back pocket.

"This is blood from my abattoir ... human blood ... I can smell it from here ... it's like a blood play take-out ... I'm going to smear myself with the blood of my victims ... who may have lived ... or died ... who knows ...who cares ... then ... in-so-far-as the rules of Literotica allow ... have this elephantine bag of recycled junk food ... s it on my face (Shurely shum mishtake) for nine minutes and twenty nine seconds ... the peine forte et dure ... with a twist ... if I live ... YOU'RE attaint of blood ... We'll visit the abattoir."

Jack, Coco, Colin, June, Tim and the rest of the gang, as is traditional, felt their blood run cold; they began to mutter half remembered prayers to a long abandoned God.

SpaderFly grinned and cackled as he ripped the blood pudding open and began to smear it liberally over his body.

Then a miracle happened.

First a mist, then smoke began to rise from the black slime, and a stench, that could be used to repel bears, filled the air. Everyone except SpaderFly began to flee down the staircase and out into the street.

Jack and Colin ripped Coco, with the porcelain and fittings still attached, from the floor and bore her down the stairs. The bodies that had lain motionless in pools of their own vomit for hours twitched, spasmed, rose, and, like zombies in a Korean movie, pursued the others.