PREAMBLE.
STOP!!
If you're looking for a BTB story this is not it. There are heaps out there written just for you, so let this one pass.
If you hate stories concerning alternative relationships, the ones involving sex outside of a monogamous marriage, then please find another story.
If you detest anything cuckold or hot wife related, simply proceed directly to the end of this fictional piece and do not pass 'GO'. Do not collect 200; just score the obligatory one star and tell me how much you hate me and therefore the first amendment of the United States of America's constitution and we'll all move on.
If you need to feel warm and cuddly, are desiring of lovable characters and romantic relationships, go find a Mills and Boon book. This one is perhaps not for you either.
If you like conventional real life stories this one might challenge. Better give it a miss. I stupidly thought 'Blackout' was more conventional than 'What the hell' and I was savaged over that comment so now I'm attempting to be clearer in the disclaimer.
If there's anyone left still reading, I hope you like your tales out of the box. All my stuff is over the top and hopefully thought provoking. As you may have already realised, I like to write about alternative relationships and try to push the boundaries supposedly contained therein. I had some anonymous dropkick tell me I was on drugs when I wrote 'What the hell...' and that was the best comment I've ever received, because, if you knew just how conservative I actually am, then you'd know how wrong they were. I just laughed and accepted the rant as a compliment to my story telling.
I wrote this piece some time ago and I hope that since then my writing style has slowly improved. My editing skills sadly have not. It's amazing how you can read a passage five times over and still fail to pick up on the bleeding obvious.
I've actually written more non-erotic pieces than erotic. Okay, I hear the obvious protests... that my stories fail to deliver the erotic... but in my defence I'm still learning the craft. As they say, Rome wasn't built in a day. Sometime soon I might try out the 'action adventure' stuff I've penned, but perhaps we'll do that on a different platform.
So, without further ado, and for the two of you still reading, I hope you enjoy the madness of Triple Treats.
P.S.
If anyone would like to help me with editing and story structure, or anything in general relating to my stories, please let me know... just hold the death wishes. Obviously a second opinion would help me see the many faults in my storylines and point out the lack of character development my critics so readily flag as a major flaw to my struggling endeavours.
One of my main difficulties, not being American, is to keep my prose relevant to all who read it. My word processor is 'mother' English Word and as you likely already know, I miss a lot of the alternate spelling. Color in my world is spelt colour... and so on it goes.
Anyway, happy reading.
Cheers...
Arch.
...And I give special acknowledgement to all of the multiples out there, and credit to the wonderful Dahm triplets who inspired this story.
*****
TRIPLE TREATS.
Intro.
Monitors beeped their slow and constant dread. The smell of ammonia and bleach filtered my nasal passages and the slow approach of inevitability hung heavily about us.
I clung to my two sisters and wept... we three wept for our loss, the loss of 'our' man, 'our' beautiful husband.
He lay there hooked up to sucking tubes and multi-coloured wires and he seemed lost to us. It was a loss not wholly attributable to his physical wellbeing.
I collapsed back into a cold vinyl chair and cried for him. What had we done! The distraught anguish etched into my sibling's faces surely reflected my own. I buried my head in my hands, and sobbed as my mind regressed.
***
There is an old proverbial saying that 'two's company, three's a crowd'.
We tend to disagree, you see; because three is in fact the perfect number.
Hi, let me introduce myself. My name is May and I have two sisters; April and June.
Yeah, yeah, our parents were real original naming us after those three months of the year. We do often refer to ourselves as number one through three in chronological order of our age. We have to do that sometimes, as a kind of secret code, so that other people don't recognise us. Being May, I'm obviously number two. April is number one and June is three. We have corresponding ink dots tattooed on our tailbones... just above the cleft of our bums.
Why all this kafuffle with dots and order?
My sisters and I were all born within a half minute of each other... fifteen seconds apart to be precise. (Can you get closer than that?). Yep, we're triplets, identical red haired, freckle brushed, 5'8" green eyed triplets born of the one original egg, but which had split into three.
I guess most people would consider us beautiful.
I have to say, it's a little weird knowing that when I'm looking at either of my sisters I'm in fact looking at an exact reflection of myself, like some weird hologram. People can't tell us apart, shit even we have trouble!
It's difficult to self-appraise, but I'm in the fortunate position that in appraising either sister I am in fact evaluating myself. What I see in either of them is a tall beautifully poised woman with vivid green eyes, a 36D bust sculptured into an hourglass figure and topped off with a nice bum, if I might boast. Think tall, leggy, full busted redheads with a pinch of Charlize Theron's lovely facial features. I must admit we've been blessed in both looks and intelligence, although you may dispute the later once you've read my story.
I have no intention of boring you with semantics but some investigation into what led us three to this point, sitting here in this squeaky bleached hospital room... holding our precious man's hand as he fights for life, may be worthy of exploration.
So, given our current dilemma, a little history may be in order.
We were born to perfectly respectable Catholic practicing church going mid-western parents of Irish descent who themselves were simple people born of the earth and dependant on Mother Nature and the seasons. We think that's how our names were derived, but we will likely never know. Our mother died giving birth to us. To be quite honest the little town hospital wasn't really equipped to carry out what turned out to be a frantic lifesaving (for us) C-section. My poor mother had been in labour for eighteen hours and the bloody doctor kept persisting with a natural birth... which was never going to happen. I guess we were fighting each other to get out; hell we've been competing ever since! So mom's heart finally gave out, mostly due to exertion and blood loss.
We three survived, were extracted and then correspondingly 'ink dotted' and tagged.
Dad sued the hospital's ass for malpractice, but on the eve of our first birthday, suffering depression and anxiety our dad put a shot gun to his head. He wasn't coping and the support 'system' had failed the poor simple farmer. Pity, because two months after his death the hard fought malpractice suit settled, this likely due to the fallout over his suicide and the ensuing media frenzy concerning three orphaned triplets and the stonewalling of the state's medical board. We three, being the only survivors of our family, received ten million dollars placed in trust. Dad could have hired as much help as he needed, but alas...
So we three, being a package deal, were not foster friendly. At least some pencil pusher understood that identical triplets needed to remain together. So we spent time as wards of the state before being eventually packed off to a boarding school for girls.
It was here however that life for us improved. We three sisters, as is likely common knowledge concerning identical siblings, kind of work and act in sync. If we were considered primarily intelligent singularly, then multiply that by three, because what one of us might lack, another could, and would, quickly make-up the shortfall. And we fed of each other... like we were almost telepathically connected. So some bright spark decided to have us tested, and yeah, I can boast, we each scored an individual IQ of 165. Actually I got a 166 and both June and April a 164, but hey who's gloating... Okay... so I do remind them constantly and they of course do gang up on me and slap me back down to size... but I love my sisters so much... and I'm sure my words will not convey the emotion I'm feeling right now, just to say that I'm a bit teary eyed. That might give you some idea of just how much I do truly love them.
So with those stated IQ's and sucking at each other's brain patterns, our intelligence was likely exponentially greater than tested. Again, you may dispute this having made your own conclusions at the completion of my psychoanalytic tale. A high IQ does not necessarily translate to common sense.
They say there is a fine line between genius and madness. That may also be very true.
Okay, so we're singled out due to our test results and sponsored through college. We each attained our PHD's and we three are now Doctors. I guess you've figured it out all ready, yep, April's a Gynaecologist... She's Doctor April McIntyre, me, I'm an Obstetrician, Dr May McIntyre and June is a Perinatologist, Doctor June McIntyre. We are all, of course, experts and fully qualified in the field of fertility and IVF and we now own a private medical centre specialising in human reproduction. We also have a passion in pursuing our hobby of genealogy and gemellology; the study of multiples. Yeah, I guess being somewhat freaks of humanity and given what happened to our mother, we were destined to travel down this preordained medical path. We knew that our mom had been struggling to have children and had been given help fertility wise, but to this day we have no idea what the drug was, however we don't think Thalidomide was involved, although our high IQ and unique bonding does suggest a possible 'glitch' in our genes. Thank god we are perfectly formed structurally, although looking back on decisions made; I seriously doubt our mental reasoning.
I guess our problem started when, as teenagers, we, like all girls, suddenly realized there was more to boys than the irritating pricks they all were. Our problem, being a package deal and developing somewhat early, was that any interested boy freaked out when, if he tried approaching one of us, he had to take on all three! Now you might laugh thinking that surely three identical hot redheads offered as a three for one deal would be any teenage boy's wet dream, but alas it sent them scampering. Added to the fact that we completed each other's sentences and were impossible to tell apart, the poor bastards had no idea how to approach us and certainly no concept of appropriate interaction. Added to our demise was our excited chatter about quantum physics, genetics and female reproduction systems, and the football savvy boys would just sit slack jawed and boggle eyed. I think the only reason they hung about as long as they did were the sight of three sets of 36d's jiggling beneath tight white tee shirts. Oh well...
So our early sex life was disappointing to say the least. At age eighteen we were still virgins! I mean we all wanted it, but as a team, we were denied. Now this is where I blame my less intelligent sisters. One of them, who will remain nameless, came up with an idea and to this day I doubt her sanity, but, hey, as they say in the court dock at sentencing time, 'it sounded like a good plan at the time'.
Here is our story, the story of how it all went horribly wrong...
****
1 DOT.
"Okay, so here's my idea!" The nameless one bounced excitedly on the bed in her tiny pink baby-doll and matching panties. We need our cherries popped, but what boy wants to bang the three of us together, and how would that work going forward anyway? Society demands monogamous relationships..."
The other one, the one in blue, interjected to finish the thought. "So what we need here are three different guys that we can all share! That way none of us misses out on what the other one has, and we all get to experience the same thing, only at separate times!"
Hmm... This sounded dodgy.
The pink one bounced and clapped. "Yeah, and that way we can all get a little of everything!"
"Please explain..." I, the one in the sheer green camisole enquired with raised eyebrows. This already spelt disaster.
