Such Stuff

Part 4

Nick Chopper

Lizzie was out in town but not going to the bookshop. She had met up with her friend Lotte and they were clothes shopping. It had not been very successful. Lotte had done well but Lizzie had not seen anything she liked apart from a new bra and that was hardly an exciting purchase. Lotte had tried very hard to persuade her to get an Indian print dress that she said had really suited Lizzie but she had not liked the colour. The print was fine but the yellow colour had just not looked right on her.

They were walking to the teashop when they heard an odd squeaking be­hind them. Moments later the odious young man from the bookshop had gone past on an old bicycle. To Lizzie's annoyance he had turned and waved.

"He wants to oil that thing," said Lotte, "he needs to find an oil can. Do you know him?"

"Er, he works in the bookshop, odious little creep."

"That's a bit strong for you Lizzie. You never say a hard word about any­one."

"Well, it's the way he looks at me."

"Boys do that Lizzie, specially to you."

"Whatever. Yes but it's the way he does it and that hair and dress sense."

"What a yellow anorak and black cords?"

"You are observant Lotte! No, what he wears normally, it's just odd. He's odd and I don't like him, gives me the creeps. Keeps recommending books to me"

"Lizzie, you like books."

"Whatever. Tea?" They went into the teashop and Lizzie changed the sub­ject.

Lizzie knew she was dreaming the sun was shining through her eyelids and the birds were singing but it was not real. It was too perfect. She opened her eyes and saw two blue painted eyes looking at her, one bigger than the other. She was back in Oz.

"Hallo Scarecrow."

"Good morning Lizzie."

She was back in the little cottage built of logs and branches where she had left Oz last time she had dreamt she was there.

Now, she thought, what is the first thing Dorothy would do in the morn­ing. Yes she is a good girl so she would wash.

"We must go and search for water," she said to the Scarecrow.

"Why do you want water?" he asked.

"To wash my face clean after the dust of the road, and to drink, so the dry bread will not stick in my throat."

"It must be inconvenient to be made of flesh," said the Scarecrow thought­fully, "for you must sleep, and eat and drink. However, you have brains, and it is worth a lot of bother to be able to think properly."

They left the cottage and walked through the trees until they found a little spring of clear water, Lizzie drank and then took off her blue and white checked gingham frock. Standing naked she began to wash, splashing water over her smooth skin. The crystal clear water was very cold, though the sun was hot and quick to dry her. The cold water brought her out in goose pimples and made her nipples stand firm, all pointy on her pointy breasts. The Scare­crow looked on appreciatively, his yellow corncob sticking, rather rudely, out of the front of his trousers. Lizzie squatted and splashed the cold clear water on her sex; the sunlight shining on her golden curls and on the drops of water momentarily caught by the curls.

"Lizzie?"

"Yes?"

"When the Munchkin boy and girl were in my field they did something else."

"I knew it," thought Lizzie, "I thought this would come. Still I am a bit hun­gry and that corn milk certainly tasted fine that first time."

"Yes?"

"The boy put his cock in the Munchkin girl's mouth and she sucked on it for a mighty long time. The Munchkin boy seemed to like it a lot because he sighed a lot and said pretty things to the girl and stroked her hair. When his cock came out of her mouth it was all floppy like when she stroked him that first time and when he pulled it out of her the other times."

"How often did they come into your field then?"

Quite a lot, sometimes more than once a day."

"Hmmm." Lizzie got down on her knees in front of the Scarecrow. As she had found before the cob was rather big and she could only just get it in her mouth. It felt like a corncob not a penis; she stroked her tongue over the bumps of the individual kernels. It was a pleasing texture. Pulling off, she wet her lips and slid them over the cob, and drew them back and forth. The happy sighs and groans from the Scarecrow suggested she was doing the right things by him. She kept the motion up as the sun warmed her back and hair drying off the water droplets from her washing. She reached behind her for her hat and put it on her head.

Neither of them had noticed but a few steps away in the forest was the Tin Man. He was watching a remarkable tableau. A pretty pale skinned naked girl with fair hair in various and interesting places, wearing a sweet pink sun­bonnet, was sucking off a scarecrow's corncob penis. He looked and looked, completely fascinated, though he could not move, could not speak. If only he could call out for help, once the act was complete of course. He did not want to spoil the entertainment.

The cob really was very big. Lizzie's stretched lips were becoming rather sore. She flicked her tongue over the end of the cob trying to hurry the Scare­crow up. She was successful. He groaned and jet after jet of sweet, starchy corn milk shot from the cob and into Lizzie's mouth. She swallowed. It really was quite delicious, quite invigorating.

"Thank you Lizzie, thank you. That's was just like the Munchkins."

They were startled to hear a deep groan near by.

"What was that?" she asked timidly.

"I cannot imagine," replied the Scarecrow; "but we can go and see."

Just then another groan reached their ears, and the sound seemed to come from behind them. They turned and walked through the forest a few steps, when Lizzie discovered something shining in a ray of sunshine that fell be­tween the trees. She ran to the place and then stopped short, with a little cry of surprise.

One of the big trees had been partly chopped through, and standing be­side it, with an uplifted axe in his hands, was a man made entirely of tin. His head and arms and legs were jointed upon his body, but he stood perfectly mo­tionless, as if he could not stir at all.

It's the Tin Man," said Lizzie to the Scarecrow, "Did you groan Tin Man?"

"Yes," answered the tin man, "I did. I've been groaning for more than a year, and no one has ever heard me before or come to help me."

"What can I do for you?" she inquired softly, for she was moved by the sad voice in which the man spoke.

"My joints," he answered, "are rusted so badly that I cannot move them at all; if I am well oiled I shall soon be all right again. Normally I am self-oiling, an improved model you see, but I got caught by the rain."

"Oh dear, what can I do? Is there an oil-can on a shelf in the cottage or here on the ground?" Lizzie had read the book and seen the film so she knew what to expect.

"No, that would have been very helpful but I am self-oiling, you see, so there isn't. All you need to do is find a little oil from somewhere and grease up my self-oiling mechanism and I can do the rest myself."

Lizzie and the Scarecrow searched and searched. They could find water but no oil until at last Lizzie realized some of the trees were olives. She collect­ed some olives and mashed them to extract some oil. She came back with her pocket-handkerchief soaked in olive oil.

"Now where is your self-oiler?" she asked looking at him closely.

The Tin Man, groaned, "just below my stomach plate."

Lizzie looked and sure enough there was a little nozzle just below the Tin Man's stomach. She squeezed some oil onto it.

"You'll have to ease it with the oil, work it with your hand to free it."

Lizzie took hold of the nozzle between her fingers and tried to move it, it was rusted fast. She rubbed it with the oil and gradually she felt a bit of move­ment, the nozzle came out a little further. She squeezed more olive oil on and pushed the nozzle back in and out again. It got a little longer. Lizzie kept work­ing it carefully and gradually the nozzle extended further out of the Tin Man's body until it was quite six inches long curving out from the Tin Man's body.

Suddenly it occurred to Lizzie, who was kneeling naked in front of the seized up Tin Man, "I'm doing it again. This is the Tin Man's cock and I'm wanking it! These dreams really are not quite right. They are always so rude!"

Lizzie worked away at the Tin Man's cock; it was sliding freely now all cov­ered with olive oil. Lizzie's hand kept working it, though it was hard to keep a grip from all the oil on the self-oiler and on her hand. The Tin Man if anything was groaning more than he had been previously. Suddenly he gave a really big groan and oil started shooting powerfully across his tin body from his tin penis. Lizzie started back in surprise, though really she should not have been so surprised, it was after all what she had been expected. The tin penis shot oil onto the Tin Man's right arm joints, his neck, left arm joints then, quite remark­ably, rotating and shooting jets onto his leg joints before dribbling a last final spurt onto his pelvic joints. As his self-oiler retracted the Tin Woodman gave a sigh of satisfaction and lowered his axe, which he leaned against the tree.

"This is a great comfort," he said. "I have been holding that axe in the air ever since I rusted, and I'm glad to be able to put it down at last. He thanked them again and again for his release, for he seemed a very polite creature, and very grateful.

They started walking and a now dressed Lizzie was surprised to see they were walking through a great meadow of poppies. Her companions were now three, the Scarecrow, the Tin Man and the Cowardly Lion. Still it was a dream and she did not pay much attention to the sudden change.

Now it is well known that when there are many of these flowers together their odor is so powerful that anyone who breathes it falls asleep, and if the sleeper is not carried away from the scent of the flowers, he sleeps on and on forever. So presently Lizzie's eyes grew heavy and she felt she must sit down to rest and to sleep. She was not much worried by this, after all she was asleep, and this was a dream.

But the Tin Woodman would not let her do this.

"We must hurry and get back to the road of yellow brick before dark," he said; and the Scarecrow agreed with him. So they kept walking until Lizzie was nearly asleep and she could stand no longer. Her eyes half closed in spite of herself she fell among the poppies.

"What shall we do?" asked the Tin Woodman.

"If we leave her here she will die," said the Lion. "The smell of the flowers is killing us all. I myself can scarcely keep my eyes open."

But the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodman, not being made of flesh, were not troubled by the scent of the flowers.

"Run fast," said the Scarecrow to the Lion, "and get out of this deadly flower bed as soon as you can. We will bring the girl with us, but if you should fall asleep you are too big to be carried." So the Lion aroused himself and bounded forward as fast as he could go. In a moment he was out of sight.

"Let us make a chair with our hands and carry her," said the Scarecrow. So they made a chair with their hands for the seat and their arms for the arms and carried the sleeping girl between them through the flowers.

Lizzie was comfortable in the seat but was aware of the two hands sup­porting her beneath her bottom. It seemed rather odd that rather than sitting her on her dress they had slipped their hands under her dress so her bare bot­tom was sitting on their hands. Through her half open eyes to one side she could see the Scarecrow's legs walking along with his corncob penis sticking in front of him, she knew there was nothing he could do about his rigid cock but to the other side she could the Tin Mans metal legs walking but there was no obvious reason for his self oiler to be fully extended. The rubbing of the hands on her sex was pleasant and whilst she was drowsy she was not fast asleep like Dorothy had been. She began to get wet, dampening the Scarecrow and Tin Man's hands.

"Oh dear," thought Lizzie, "the Tin Man's hand will rust and I suppose that is why he needs his self oiler at the ready." The real reason was rather dif­ferent. They were enjoying the surreptitious feel of Lizzie's sex whilst they thought she was asleep.

"Do you think we might rest a bit?" said the Scarecrow. Carefully they set Lizzie down on the ground,

"Do you think Lizzie would mind if I fucked her just for a bit?" said the Scarecrow, "she looks so pretty."

The Tin Man was looking at his hand, which seemed to have rusted solid. "I wouldn't think so, she's asleep at present so she won't know. Go on, I'll watch." Carefully he picked Lizzie up and the Scarecrow pulled Lizzie's dress up under her arms and then off before setting her down again.

Lizzie was actually awake but too drowsy to resist as she saw the Scare­crow standing over her, his corncob cock standing proud. With his two cloth hands he pulled her thighs apart, his mismatched blue painted eyes peered closely at Lizzie's fair curls and sex.

"Look, Tin Man, look at this, just like a little open flower."

Lizzie saw through her half open eyes the Tin Man now looming over her. He seemed to be working at his self-oiler. The Scarecrow knelt and tried to push his corncob into Lizzie.

"It won't go in Tin Man, why is that, it did before? If I only had a brain I'd know why."

"Perhaps her self oiler is not working."

"Don't be stupid like me, Tin Man, girls don't have self-oilers."

They picked Lizzie up again and carried the still naked girl whilst enjoy­ing the feel of her bare bottom and sex on their hands.

On and on they walked, and it seemed that the great carpet of deadly flow­ers that surrounded them would never end. They followed the bend of the river, and at last came upon their friend the Lion just beyond the poppies. The flowers had been almost too strong for the huge beast but he had managed it and was now safe where the sweet grass spread in beautiful green fields be­fore them. He was still aroused. The sight of the naked Lizzie was too much for him, he needed release.

The Scarecrow and Tin Man were surprised to see the Cowardly Lion's penis as erect as the Scarecrow's corncob and the Tin Man's self oiler. But not as much as Lizzie. The Scarecrow and Tin Man had placed her on the ground again and from her low vantage point she could see not only the Tin Man's self oiler and the Scarecrow's ever ready corncob but the large furry cock of the Cowardly Lion, to her surprise she began to get excited, her sex moistening at the though of it being inside her, her dreams seemed to be taking a further odd turn.

The Scarecrow divined what the Cowardly Lion was thinking, it's no use, it won't go in, I've tried.

The Lion put his great mane close to Lizzie's sex and sniffed, "Seems ready to me." His great pink tongue came out and licked Lizzie. The feel of his very large, warm and wet tongue lapping at her sex roused Lizzie. Instinctively she got up on all fours and the Lion stood over her. She braced herself, ready for her sex to be invaded by the King of Beasts. The Cowardly Lion was not subtle, with a single lunge his cock pushed right into Lizzie. It went in easily aided by the Lion's licking as well as her own moisture. She gasped, pushing back against him,

"See, you do have courage," said the Scarecrow kneeling if front of Lizzie and presenting his corncob.

Lizzie was rocking backwards and forward on her hands and knees pro­pelled by the powerful thrusts of the Cowardly Lion. The Scarecrow held her shoulders to support her and with a degree of inevitability Lizzie's lips closed on the end of the cob. The Scarecrow was again happy.

The Tin Man watched his three friends on the ground, the rippling mus­cles of the mighty Lion's thighs as he thrust into Lizzie, Lizzie's conical shaped breasts with their pointy nipples swaying backwards and forwards beneath her as she moved and the Scarecrows bright yellow corncob appearing to get longer, then shorter as it moved in and out of Lizzie's mouth. His own hand, the one that was not rusty, worked at his self-oiler. He needed the oil urgently to grease his rusted hand. He was sure he could get it to work very soon.

The pounding on Lizzie's sex was starting to make it a little sore but she was very excited by it, she was in heat, anxious to come before the Cowardly Lion filled her and his marvellous hard cock softened, she was getting closer. The hot sun beat down on the four friends. Lizzie could smell the sweet green grass being crushed beneath her knees, hear the creak of the Tin Man's self oiler, the squelch of her sex being worked by the mighty cock of the Cowardly Lion and feel the rugged texture of the Scarecrow's corncob. She was nearly there, just a few more thrusts. Suddenly her mouth was filled with the sweet, starchy taste of corn, the Scarecrow was coming, another thrust, a roar from the Lion and her sex suddenly felt very hot and even wetter than before. Lizzie felt the spatter of hot liquid on her back, the Tin Man had managed to make his self oiler work and rocking on her knees, duvet piled on top of her, fingers in her sex the dreaming Lizzie came herself, reaching another fantastic, deeply erotic, nocturnal climax.

She lay, duvet thrown off spread-eagled face down on the bed, sweat shin­ing on her exhausted body, her bottom cheeks still faintly moving in the moon­light coming through her curtains. "I must need a boyfriend if I am this frus­trated and keep having these sexy dreams every night. Oh I do like the Scare­crow, he's so funny with his corncob. I wonder what it would be like if I bought one from the supermarket and... Lizzie, my girl, I am ashamed at you for think­ing such a thing! Now go to sleep."